Empty Bodies (Book 5): Damnation (29 page)

Ambrose headed for the door. Before he exited, he turned back and said, “I'm going to give you one piece of advice.” He took another deep inhale of a cigar, and blew the smoke into the air before looking back down at Gabriel. “You just worry about yourself. Be selfish. Show no mercy. Think about your family. You do that, you’re gonna make both of us happy.”

He left the room, leaving Gabriel alone.

***

Half an hour had passed since the guards had come in and retrieved Gabriel. In that time, Claire and Jessica had not spoken a word to each other. Claire lay on the bed, curled up and crying, though less than before. Jessica sat in the corner of the room with her eyes closed and her legs crossed. Unable to find an escape in writing, she’d begun using meditation to center herself. She was still learning this new ritual, and only able to remain still for five to ten minutes at a time. Today had been especially difficult with so many things racing through her mind.

When she’d finished, she stood up. Claire still lay on the bed in the fetal position, her back facing the room’s only door. Jessica walked over to her. She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Claire’s arm. Claire didn’t look up, but she sniffled.

“I know you’re hurting, sweetie,” Jessica said. “But you—”

Claire flipped over onto her back, pushing Jessica’s hand off of her arm. “Do you?” she snapped at Jessica. “Do you know that I’m hurting?”

“Yes, I do. I—”

“My brother was murdered!” Claire sat up. She pointed toward the door. “They let those things slaughter him. Tear him apart. Right in front of me. You have no idea what that feels like.”

As Claire glared at her, Jessica thought about her own parents. The image of them lying on their bed together, holding each other’s hands. The pistols between them. It had been painted in her mind forever. Claire was wrong. While Jessica hadn’t seen her parents draw in their last breaths, she’d seen the aftermath of that tragedy. And it had been enough for her to imagine those final moments every day since.

And while Jessica wanted to spit back at Claire and tell her these things, she held it inside. She understood that Claire’s anger wasn’t directed at her. Claire hadn’t gotten enough distance from her loss. And she hadn’t exactly been in the best environment to grieve.

Claire’s face shifted from anger to sadness as she started to cry again. She fell forward into Jessica’s arms and Jessica accepted her, hugging the hurting woman. Jessica ran her hand up and down Claire’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said.

“It’s okay,” Jessica said.

“I just miss him so much.”

“I know you do.”

Both women turned when the door clicked. It opened, and two guards stood in front of a third person. The two guards entered the room. Jessica felt something inside herself die when she recognized the man behind them.

“Hello,” Bruce said, looking to Jessica. His face didn’t need much lighting for Jessica to remember how disgusting he was. She didn’t reply to him.

“You can’t even say ‘hello’ to me? That’s quite rude.” He looked to the guards and nodded.

The two guards, one a female and one a male, pulled Jessica and Claire apart. The two women fought it until the female guard slapped Jessica across the face. Jessica pulled back and the two guards picked Claire up under her arms.

“Let me go,” Claire said, fighting them.

“Where are you taking her?” Jessica asked. She stood up.

The three captors ignored her. Claire continued to scream, working to get free from the two guards’ grasps.

Jessica watched as Bruce drew a pistol from his side.

“No!” Jessica yelled.

Bruce reared back and slammed the butt of the weapon into the back of Claire’s head. She fell limp, and the two guards dragged her out of the room. Bruce holstered the weapon and looked up at Jessica.

“Please,” Jessica said. “Please, don’t hurt her. Where are you taking her?”

Bruce smiled and shook his head. “You should’ve just given me what I wanted.”

He exited the room, locking it behind him.

Jessica fell down onto the bed and wept.

***

After he’d eaten the ground beef and potatoes they’d brought him, Gabriel put himself through a light routine of bodyweight exercises. The regimen included push-ups, squats, lunges, and sit-ups. When he’d finished, he’d spent another ten minutes stretching. Now, he sat on the bench in front of a locker. Above the locker, written in permanent marker, it said: McDaniel (34). He wondered what position McDaniel had played on the football team, and if he’d had any chance of playing college ball before The Fall. He looked around the entire locker room, reading the names of each player. On a Friday night in September, this room would’ve been rocking with testosterone-filled excitement. Now, it had become the final place for gladiators to reflect on their lives before heading out into the slaughter.

Only, Gabriel would survive. He told himself this, over and over again, as he waited.

The wait ended when the door opened and two guards walked into the room. Only one of them held an assault rifle. The other, while armed with a pistol mounted to his hip, walked in with empty hands.

“On your feet,” the unarmed guard said. The other guard aimed the rifle at Gabriel.

Gabriel stood up and put his arms out to the side, and the unarmed guard patted Gabriel down, making sure he hadn’t gathered any weapons in the time he’d been left alone. There had been nothing to arm himself with; he’d checked.

“He’s clear,” the guard called out.

The other guard signaled toward the door. “All right. Let’s go. It’s time.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

A man stood in front of double doors alongside two other armed guards. He wore the same outfit as Gabriel. He was slightly taller, and slender, with auburn hair down to his shoulders. The number “77” had been drawn across his back. The two guards holding the man stepped back as Gabriel approached, and 77 looked over his shoulder. The guy couldn’t have been older than 25. A stringy beard wrapped around his chin from ear to ear.

Gabriel stopped next to number 77. He could see the taller competitor out of the corner of his eye, looking him up and down. Gabriel glanced over at him for a moment, and then re-focused on the double doors in front of him.

Outside, a crowd had gathered. They cheered, likely anxious for the upcoming bout.

One of the guards stepped in front of number 77 and Gabriel.

“When the doors open, you’ll step out together,” the guard said. “Side-by-side.”

This was different than what Gabriel remembered from before. When Ambrose had brought him here to see one of these fights, the competitors had come out separately. He remembered the crowd cheering and booing each of the competitors, depending on who they had bet on.

The guard continued. “Walk to the guard standing in the nearest end zone. He’ll tell you where you’ll start, and give you further instructions on how to play the game.” The guard smiled. “Good luck. You're going to need it.” He turned to face the doors.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel could see number 77’s hand shaking. He looked over and saw that he was drawing in breaths at a rapid rate. His eyes showed Gabriel how scared he was. Gabriel was fearful too, but he wasn’t about to show it.

The guard standing in front of the competitors had a walkie talkie on his waist. It made a noise and he grabbed it as a voice came through on the other end.

“Ready?” the voice asked.

“Ready when you are,” the guard said.

“Let them out,” the person on the other end of the walkie talkie said.

The guard looked over his shoulder and smiled at both Gabriel and number 77. He put a hand on each door handle.

The door opened, and the sun blinded Gabriel as the roar of the crowd hit his ears.

Gabriel stood frozen in the doorway until someone behind him pushed him.

“Move your ass,” the guard said.

Number 77 walked ten yards ahead of Gabriel and the guard demanded that he catch up. All the while, the crowd continued to rumble. Gabriel looked into the stands. The crowd appeared to be smaller than last time. Last time, there had been about 100 people in the crowd. Now, there appeared to be a little more than half that. He wondered how much this would upset Ambrose. After all, Ambrose had depended on Gabriel to bring him home a big payday. With less people there to bet, the purse would be smaller.

When he caught up to 77, Gabriel kept his focus forward. He could sense number 77 looking at him again, working to try and intimidate him. Gabriel ignored it.

Ahead, he saw the guard waiting for them. Beyond him—a hundred yards beyond him, in fact—he saw the lone ax hanging on the upright. This was the weapon that he and number 77 would be fighting for. When they reached the guard at the starting line, he put his hand up.

“Stop here,” the guard said.

The guard who’d led Gabriel to the starting line stepped in front of him and unlocked the handcuffs. Gabriel massaged his wrists, with the steel no longer rubbing against his flesh.

The guard at the starting line stepped in front of both of them.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen up,” the guard said. “You both will remain behind this line until you hear a gunshot.” The guard pointed to a line drawn at his feet. “If either one of you jumps across the line before you hear the gunshot, you will be shot. Once you hear the signal, you’re both going to run like hell to that goal post.” He pointed a hundred yards down to the ax. “That’s the only weapon out here. So, I suggest that you get to it before your other competitor does if you want any chance to live.” He smiled. “But before any of this, that fence you see over there is going to open. A truck is going to come out and unload hell on you guys. Your objective? To kill as many of those things as you can, and be the last one to survive. And I do mean the last one. There will only be one winner.”

Gabriel knew the game. In fact, he knew the chances were slim that either he or Number 77 would survive. But he couldn’t tell himself that. All he could tell himself was that he would be the one to survive, at any and all costs. And by any means necessary.

The guard continued. “There will be rifles aimed directly at you at all times. If something seems funny, you will be shot down immediately. Do you understand?”

Gabriel nodded, and could see out of his peripheral vision 77 doing the same.

“Good,” the guard said. He looked into the stands at the restless crowd. “No sense in making them wait any longer.” He turned back to Gabriel and 77, that same crooked smile on his face. He patted both men on the shoulders and said, “Good luck.” He nodded to one of the other guards, who pulled a two-way radio from his belt.

“Let’s do this,” he said into the radio.

All the personnel surrounding the two competitors scattered.

Gabriel now stood alone with 77.

Still looking forward, focusing on the lone weapon, Gabriel said, “We should work together.”

He sensed 77 looking over at him as the man said, “What?”

“Don’t look at me,” Gabriel said. “Don’t let them think we’re becoming friendly.”

“Believe me. With the face I’m making, they won’t think we’re becoming friendly, because we
aren’t.
”

The fence opened in the corner of the field, and the same box truck, armored with scraps, drove out onto the opposite end zone. The crowd roared. Four armed guards followed the vehicle. It turned around to where its rear faced Gabriel, and the standing guards hurried to the back door.

“Do you want to stay alive or not?” Gabriel asked. “They are about to unleash hell out of the back of that truck, and they want us pitted against one another. They want us to think that our only chance to win is to be the last one standing, but that’s bullshit. If we can work together and take down these things, I’d bet you that we could win the crowd over. If we do that, there’s no way in hell they would kill us.”

77 scoffed. “You’re crazy, man. Even if that were to work, how the hell am I supposed to trust you?”

“Because I’m not one of them,” Gabriel said. “I’m a prisoner—a slave—like you.”

The guards slowly moved to the back of the truck, readying to open it up and unleash the Empties.