Hamlet didn't have his sword, but he had a femur.
The tattooed Cat who'd taught Valentine some basics of hand-to-hand combat always made Valentine recite the first rule of unarmed combat: Arm yourself.
Or in this case, leg yourself. He wrenched the leg loose, spun and spun and spun it on its wire until the link weakened, then pulled it free. He went to one of the cement benches and broke it off at the knee end, giving himself a sharpened spike.
Several paths led off the courtyard and the buildings. Valentine could see the lights peering at him from across a vast, brushy field,
bisected by cover. It was tempting to plunge into the bushes, but he suspected they thickened with what looked like Devil's Foot farther in. Even with a machete and thick clothing, he'd hesitate to hack through spiky Devil's Foot.
He chose one of the paths through the trees, and found it joined the path he'd discarded in order to get at the buildings.
To get to the trees he passed through a vaguely Oriental garden, at least judging from the architecture. The plants had mostly run wild, but there was still a bubbling, attractive-looking fountain.
The water smelled clean.
He reached forward.
A fortunate, foreshortened step saved him. He felt something brush his leg hairs, froze, looked down, saw a length of fishing line passing in front of the fountain. Valentine followed the wire to the trigger, then up to the overhanging trees, saw a big latticework like a spiky flyswatter ready to fall and cripple a hand dipped in the water. It looked flimsy; obviously it wasn't designed to kill, just to injure and cause pain.
Valentine decided to forgo the water, and stepped carefully onto the wooded path, every nerve alert. He willed his eyes into picking up every twig, every branch, every trap that might or might not be along the path.
There'd once been a sign, probably an explanatory map, at the beginning of the tree-flanked path. Now a human skin, face and hair still attached, was stretched between the posts.
DON'T RUN! YOU'LL JUST DIE TIRED
read the helpful tattooed warning.
The crotches of the trees held human skulls with glowing eyes. Valentine glanced at one as he passed; the "eyes" were golf balls painted with luminous paint. Valentine decided to parallel the path
after he found a shallow pit filled with sharpened wooden spikes smelling of fresh blood. Poor Co...
Reaper!
Valentine crouched, tried to lower his lifesign, tried to box up the cold and his sore knee. He gripped the splintered femur in both hands, left steadying it, his right on the ball joint, ready to drive it...
He heard panting and saw Colin running wildly down the path, feet muddy, favoring one leg, but fear driving him through the pain. A cloaked Reaper, its face white-painted with eyes and lips blackened to imitate a skull, thin chest similarly decorated to enhance the ribs, skipped along behind him, raising first one long arm and then the other in a sort of dance.
"and i run and you run and i run and you run ...", it sang as it hopped.
Could he catch it unaware?
The Reaper halted, pointed a long black-nailed finger at Valentine, "you! you wait your turn! gimpy's first!"
Colin sprawled, tripping on the same hole that had injured him earlier, "oh, you've tripped, get up, you're not finished yet. run run run little silly man".
They disappeared toward the buildings, the Reaper harrying its prey like a dog driving a lone sheep.
Valentine angled toward the western wall. Twelve feet of brick, with trees well cut back, was topped with electrified fence.
"Don't even think about it", a megaphoned voice from the trees called. Valentine searched the timber, saw a hunting blind. "He's busy with the others. If you hurry, you'll make the finish line easy".
Valentine trotted back into the woods.
He ran faster as he saw the two red lights, broke out of the trees and up a long meadowed path, thick with night dew. Valentine saw more lines of fencing, angling toward the finish line. A couple of New Universal Church robed types stood before a candlelit table with food and bottles and a trophy cup.
But there was a cold piece of evil lurking just on the other side of the victory tape.
Valentine sensed a Reaper under the table, alive and pulsing. A final shock for the winner?