“Do you know any martial arts at all?” Mitch asked as they moved to the center of the room, onto the big square of mats.

“Sure,” Cal said. “I’m an expert in the way of the knee to the balls and the eye gouge.”

“A dirty fighter, eh?”

“Fighting with rules isn’t fighting; it’s just a rougher version of ballet.”

Mitch chuckled, then realized Cal was entirely serious.

“Look, man,” Cal said. “Why are we doing this? Who the hell fights hand to hand with a zombie?”

“I have,” Mitch said. “And yeah, I wouldn’t want to if I can possibly neutralize it before it comes close. But you might have to. Anyway, it’s not only zombies. You know that. What about that group that took you prisoner?”

Cal nodded. “Okay, I guess you’re right.”

“Do you know how to fall?” Mitch asked.

“Yeah, mainly for men who aren’t good for me.”

“I mean fall without hurting yourself,” Mitch said, not biting.

“Of course. Slap the mat. I’m not an idiot.”

“Then let’s go.”

He pounced, enjoying the moment of panic in Cal’s eyes as he grabbed him and took him to the mat. Cal didn’t slap it, taken by surprise. Well, that was more like the real world. Cal was down and on his back, Mitch’s weight pinning him before he could react. Mitch grabbed him around the throat, not hard, not throttling him, but making a point. If he closed his hands, Cal’s struggles would start to weaken quickly. And Mitch wasn’t that big a guy. They’d encountered bigger on trips ashore. Cal had to know how to get away from them and fight back.

“Fuck you,” Cal snarled, and he raked his fingernails along Mitch’s bare left arm.

“Shit!” Mitch grabbed at the bicep, stunned Cal had really scratched him. Cal’s fist smacked into his ear, and as Mitch fell away, Cal scrambled out from under him, rolling away, up onto his feet and coming at Mitch fast, raising his arm.

And stopping. Mitch looked up at him from on his knees, heart pounding with the thrill and shock of it.

“Cal,” he said. His voice came out as a croak, and he cleared his throat. “That was pretty good. Though we might want to talk about the rules of sparring.” He rubbed his ear. “The ear punch was good, but there’s a better way to attack the ears. Come here.” He sat and then lay down. “Get on top of me. Ah ... straddle me, I mean, like you’re going to strangle me.”

Cal looked down at him, frowning like a man unsure if he was in a dream. Then he shrugged, stepped over Mitch, and dropped to his knees, lowering his weight carefully into Mitch’s body. He didn’t rest it all there, instead supporting himself on his knees, holding back, not really pinning Mitch. He couldn’t pin Mitch for long anyway; Mitch had a good twenty pounds on him.

“Okay, imagine you’re in my position. Your hands are free because he’s trying to strangle you. Lean forward; put your hands around my neck.” Cal leaned forward, and his hands briefly touched Mitch’s throat, but then he let go with one and rested it on the floor. The other stayed lightly in place, not squeezing. So he did have a problem with sparring. He was an all-or-nothing guy. “From this position you can grab his ears and twist them.”

“This is for human attackers, right? Not zombies.”

“That’s right.” Mitch reached up and touched Cal’s ears. One of them had a small silver cuff in it, on the curve of the top of the ear. Nothing in the lobes. He resisted the urge to stroke the ear. Cal’s hair tickled his fingers. It was newly trimmed, neater than when he’d arrived. He’d obviously found one of the hairdressers among the residents. “Zombies wouldn’t feel anything,” Mitch went on, trying to concentrate on something other than how good Cal’s hair looked. “And their ears would probably come off in your hands.”

Cal’s eyes widened. “Thanks for that image. Right, ear grab. Anything else?”

“Box the ears. Keep the hands flat and stiff and slap them hard over the ears, both together.” He demonstrated the move, slowly, not striking, just bringing his hands close. Cal flinched as if expecting Mitch to hit him. “Another move: sides of the hands, chopped into the neck.” He demonstrated the position again. Cal didn’t flinch his time, though his body was very tense. “And my personal favorite. Break the little fingers.” He reached up with both hands, though Cal only had one hand resting on his neck. “Grab them and twist up as hard as you can. You’ll almost certainly break them. That one works from behind too.”

“Sounds like police brutality to me.”

“If a man has his hands around your throat, you be as brutal as you like.” He’d trained all the women, not only the soldiers. Almost anyone could effectively put a guy off his stride and get away, if they knew the moves and had the confidence to use them. Knowing the moves gave them the confidence to use them. It was a virtuous circle. People froze when they didn’t know how to deal with the situation. Mitch taught them to deal. Nobody would hurt any of his group again without consequences.

“Mitch?” Cal said, leaning closer, both hands flat on the floor. “What’s next?” He moved, his hips sliding slowly over Mitch’s belly and groin, making Mitch moan and start to harden. Cal’s eyes glowed softly in the dim light. He licked his parted lips and leaned closer still. “What’s next?”