The entrance was through tunnels.

I had to admire the craftsmanship of the stonework. The walls of the tunnels were brick with a small hole in the wall about waist-high every few feet. There were thick metal doors that slid into the wall with clasps where it could be bolted closed into the wall. After we passed through the third door that they bolted behind us, I began to feel like I was walking into a vault.

“Isn’t this a little extreme?” I asked.

Silence was the only answer I got.

Since our escorts didn’t seem to be in the mind to chat, I took a closer look at them. The dim torchlight wasn’t very good, but I could make out general features.

The group was made up of one woman and three men. Each of the men was wearing leather armor that was very similar to my own. For weapons, they each had a sword at their hip, but that wasn’t what they carried. Two had two-pronged spears and the third had a bow. As a guard, the bow would work, but the spears were impractical. Particularly ones that looked like they had been pitchforks at one time. Those would be better suited for pinning their opponent to the ground, but the tines were too close together to use on a citizen and not kill them. Unless they stuck the eight-inch long tines through a leg or arm.

An idea started to form. I looked over to Val, who was obviously their leader. She was dressed in leather like the men. The same mark less leather. City guards would have emblems on their armor or some metal to protect them. This group had none of that. In fact, their entire wardrobe seemed to focus on not standing out.

Their skin was dark, and by the dim light of the torch, I had assumed that they had darker skin. I took a second look and discovered that one of the men did actually have naturally black skin, but the rest were covered with some kind of black grease. The men had buzzed haircuts and no facial hair. Val had short hair as well, but hers came just below her ears.

This group wasn’t part of the city guard. They were zombie wranglers.

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It made me mad. The whole purpose of the Bokor was to fight the zombies and protect humans. It was true that we didn’t stop humans from venturing outside their walls. We did our best to protect them, but if someone wants to touch a flame, they’ll keep reaching until they get burnt. Or in this case, bit.

Zombie wranglers were the worst of the danger seekers. Instead of sending a horse or even a runner to the island to ask for help, these fools would go out and trap the zombies until we came around to clean them. A long time ago, the wranglers just killed the zombies and burned the bodies, but that destroyed the heart stones. We had convinced them to instead keep the zombies in pens outside the city by telling them that only magic fire would fully cleanse the zombie. It stopped most of the wasted heart stones and the number of zombie wranglers dropped to almost nothing. The job became too dangerous and people didn’t like knowing that zombies were penned up nearby.

As mad as I was, I had to admire their setup. The tunnels would allow them to retreat without getting swarmed. The multiple doors allowed them to wall off a horde and keep the city safe. Scorch marks near one of the holes in the wall was all I needed to see to realize their purpose. If zombies made it past a door, then the fire could be sprayed through the hole. It was a waste, but a good way to reclaim a lost tunnel. I began to wonder just how many tunnels there were down here.

I dropped back so I could share my new information with Max.

“They’re zombie wranglers.” I whispered under my breath.

“I know.” Max replied.

“How?” I asked. I had thought I was going to have to explain everything to him.

“Guards don’t leave the walls.” Max replied, “You need to be careful with them.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t like your kind,” Val replied.

I straightened up. I hadn’t thought she could hear us.

“What’s wrong with my kind?” I asked, “Are you jealous? Is that why you’re acting like one of us?”

She started to answer but was cut off as the door we were in front of creaked open. On the other side of the door was a short older man. He was barely five feet tall and was completely bald. His clean-shaven face was weathered and his dull gray eyes begged to be allowed to go back to sleep. His clothes resembled a suit of the upper class. It was the only thing about him that didn’t betray that he had been pulled out of bed.

“Welcome to our city!” The old man spread his arms wide.