[ WP ] Fantasy zombie apocalypse : The rich and powerful have grown bored . For entertainment they bet on the remaining survivors `` out there '' .

# Odds Are # 
 
 Survivor 10110, also known as Luke, had just gone critical, forced into an industrial building by a horde of well over a hundred undead. Pilots had seen the impending conflict well ahead of time-Luke's most recent looting hole, well out of the way of large, populated areas, had suddenly become home to a small horde, probably from the larger town across the way. His feed had been switched to the Pit several hours in advance, and, as predicated, a routine trip had now taken a disastrous turn. Seamus watched as former millionaires and celebrities began betting high end supplies, either brought with them to the Bunker or acquiesced by security men like Seamus. Cuban cigars, Rembrandts and Monets, cases of caviar, all useless and decadent items that had no bearing on survival, just comfort and bragging rights. But Seamus did n't particularly care. His own good fortune had led him to a sense of apathetic preservation. The Bunker was the safest place on earth. Besides the occasional run for supplies and luxuries, it was self-sufficient, self-sustaining, and nigh on impenetrable. As long as he was in here, and helped maintain the status quo, he'd ride this out like the rest of these fat cats. 
 
 `` Uh-oh. Not looking good for your boy there, Robert.'' 
 
 `` He's a snake, Arthur, a snake. He'll make it out.'' 
 
 `` I hope he does n't so you'll finally shut up about him.'' The elegant woman took a petulant sip of her champagne. 
 
 `` Oh do n't mind Lydia, she's just sore that her last bet lost her a nineteen eighty-four Brovia Barolo Monprivato.'' 
 
 `` Stupid bimbo.'' Lydia huffed. `` Even *I* knew the fire escape would break. Stewart's stupid, smug-'' 
 
 Her sentence was interrupted as a ball of fire suddenly lit up the screen. The entire industrial building was in flames, scattering debris and burning corpses across the compound. There was a long pause as the drone camera panned around the destruction. Then the speakers in the gambling hall announced in a clear, crisp tone: 
 
 *Survivor 10110 has been retired. * 
 
 There were more shouts of agony than of triumph from the Pit. Apparently he'd been a favorite. The massed group scattered to conclude their bets, as the feed switched to another survivor, a Hispanic female, traveling along a river with her small party. Robert continued staring at the screen in shock. 
 
 `` Oh, bad luck there. Honestly, I did n't see how he was going to make it out. What'd you lose?'' 
 
 Robert ran his hands over his face. `` A recording of Verdi's'Nabucco', and a water color by Moran.'' 
 
 `` Well, that's not so bad then, yeah?'' 
 
 Lydia snorted in a very low brow manner. `` You got off easy, I say.'' 
 
 Seamus watched as the three moved off, the smell of Havanas on the air making him crave his own smoke break. 
 
 `` How about you?'' 
 
 Seamus jumped. Fredrick Pierce had suddenly appeared at his shoulder, the older man's lean, slicked back figure quiet as a jungle cat in it's Armani attire. He smiled at Seamus' reaction. 
 
 `` Excuse me sir?'' 
 
 `` Did you think he was going to make it?'' 
 
 The question took Seamus a little aback. Unless they wanted a fling or a favor, the crust did n't talk to scrubs like Seamus. Seamus sincerely hoped this conversation would turn towards the latter if anything. 
 
 `` Um... I, I do n't really know sir... no, I did n't, not really.'' 
 
 `` And why's that?'' 
 
 Strange response. `` Well... There were too many, he did n't have any back up, or an out.'' Seamus shrugged. `` Odds were against him. That's what it's all about, is n't it, sir?'' 
 
 Pierce nodded. `` And that all makes sense, it really does... but I've been gambling for many years. And in that time, if I've learned anything, it's that people put too much stock in the odds.'' 
 
 Where was this conversation going? 
 
 Pierce was facing Seamus now, a polite smile still hanging on his face. `` In gambling I'll admit, odds do matter quite a lot, and their usually true to form. In life however, the same principle ca n't be applied. Life has too many variables to be a game, that's what most of these people do n't understand.'' He gestured at the room behind him, now empty of the people in question. `` They bet on life as if it were roulette or poker, but it's not, you see. Because their are so many of us, each influencing each other's lives, directly, and indirectly, with effects that can take years, even centuries to mature, that it really ca n't be calculated and deconstructed like a game of dice. For instance, poor Luke there could have just as easily have found a car in that building, fueled and supplied, ready to go, left behind by someone for whom all the odds were in favor until suddenly a variable turned those same said odds against him. Or take someone... someone like you...'' The tone in his voice suddenly changed. Seamus' eyes flicked anywhere but Pierce's stare. `` Me, sir?'' `` Yes, you. The odds have been all in your favor, Seamus; you got in as a private security grunt with some of the most powerful people in the world, in the most secure safe house in the world. You rarely have to work for your supper; most of the time you just have to stand around here as a bunch of rich voyeurs drink themselves into a stupor while watching the demise of people severely less fortunate than themselves. Yes, Seamus, the odds have been in your favor... and yet, one variable has thrown that all away.'' 
 
 Two of Seamus fellow guards came up on either of his elbows. He threw an elbow at the left ones face, but it was caught. A rifle butt hit him in the back of his knee, forcing him into a kneel as brawny arms restrained him. Pierce leaned down, his polite smile now gone as he stared into Seamus' panicked grimace. `` My daughter, specifically. Though, what variables culminated into that trist only God knows.'' He stood up straight again, and looked down on Seamus, a cold smile returning to his lips. `` I've read your file. SAS, tour of duty in the Middle East. The undead and savages outside will have a hard time killing you Seamus O'Hara.'' He gave him the smallest of winks. `` I'll bet on that.''
