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“Well, that will be an interesting one, for sure,” he replies, and I nod in agreement. Marco is well known among The Tomb as being one of Emilio’s top bodyguards. I’m a bit surprised Emilio would risk him in a Pit fight, but I suppose he feels confident. Unfortunately, I do not share this optimism, knowing Cole as I do. I am honestly surprised he hasn’t challenged me yet and know it’s only a matter of time. I’ll kill the fucker when he does, with relish. I clench my fists as we walk, the fire building up in me once more.
“Think Cole will challenge you?” Ethan asks, pulling the thought from my mind.
“Likely.”
“Well, aren’t you chatty today. Is it to do with that boy you seem suddenly obsessed with?” Growling, I turn and thrust Ethan against the wall, my forearm over his neck. We are almost the same height, though I am the stronger of the two of us. He huffs out a breath but doesn’t struggle. We stare at one another for a moment until I finally drop him on a growl, watching as he gasps for breath.
“Fuck, man!” he exclaims, a hand on his throat. “I was just fucking asking.”
“Well don’t,” I reply shortly, waiting for him to recover. He gives me an accusing look and I glare back, daring him to argue.
When he says nothing, I keep walking to make the rest of my rounds.
Fuck.
Eighteen
Ana
The rain stopped sometime overnight and all throughout I hear drips and squelches. Peering up I see blue skies though, and even at this early hour it’s already warm and I know it’s going to be a hot day. I’ve long since gotten used to wearing bulky layers but never in what effectively amounts to a giant stone oven. With no windows to the outside, I can’t imagine how bad it gets. I wonder how much more testy these inmates get when it’s over a hundred degrees. It’s May now, I can only imagine how much worse it will get in the coming months. Thankfully, I don’t intend to be here for long.
Fuck, that reminds me. I really need to start thinking about that. Really, escape is my only option. Nothing else ends with any chance of me living. I need to focus.
Eyes follow me wherever I go, and I do my best to ignore them, keeping my head high as I navigate the halls of The Tomb. I have a feeling Axle’s warning to Cole has gotten around and I’m thankful for it when I see the faces of others in here.
Most of the cells I pass have had their iron barred doors removed long ago with pieces of fabric and other textiles used as barriers. In other cases, the inhabitants clearly don’t care and glare at all those who pass. Then there are the obvious addicts, emaciated men lying around in a daze. A sickly-sweet sort of smell surrounds their cells making it that much more obvious, a scent that is uniquely addiction.
Luckily, I have an excellent sense of direction and remember easily where Theo’s home—err, place—is and walk quickly to get there. As I turn the last corner, I see Theo walking with his back towards me and run to catch up to him.
“Hey,” I say as I come up alongside him. Theo turns to me, his bushy eyebrows raising almost to his hairline in a comical expression of surprise.
“Hey yourself,” he says after a pause, not stopping his stroll, “didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”
“You underestimate my phenomenal cosmic power.” I smirk and he chuckles.
“I’m going for breakfast, have you eaten?” My stomach grumbles, telling me it could happily eat more, but I know I can easily get more when I get back to Axle’s.
“I’m fine, but I’ll join you if you don’t mind.”
“Only if you agree to tell me what happened yesterday while we walk.”
“You got yourself a deal.”
Theo gives me a smile and continues walking. “Food in the yard,” he tells me. “So, you leave to take a piss and I hear some crap going down, yet here you are today.” I don’t fail to notice the lack of a question.
“Well,” I tell him, “I ran into some guys and they gave me a hard time, so I broke one of their noses then got away.” The noise I get in response is somewhere between a snort and a bray.
“Idiots,” he mutters. “Who was it, do you know? How’d ya get away?”
We step onto the dirt yard where there is a line of about half a dozen people. Nodding my head towards a post on the outskirts, I lean back and wait for Theo. At the front of the line is a large steaming pot I assume to be some kind of stew, and those waiting move forward eagerly.
I’ve already begun to notice how you can tell a bit about the residents here by their clothes and stance. The addicts are easy, I don’t need half a brain to figure them out.
Bloody men, as Josh used to call them, are always easy too; the manic gleam in their eyes is a dead giveaway. I notice most of the men in line for food look older and, like Theo, have grimy lines worn into their face. One man stands out, towering over the rest with a blank look on his face. I get the sense he isn’t all there and I wonder how he survives somewhere like this. I guess his size really counts for something. In my mind, I dub him Brutus.
Theo is only two away from the front and I watch Brutus walk away with a bowl of something steaming in his hands. He looks almost reverent as he stares at it, and it actually brings a small smile to my face. I’m a bit lost in thought, as Brutus is lost in his stew worship, and almost don’t see another inmate stick out a foot in the big man’s path.
The flip Brutus does would be comical, if not for the look of absolute desolation on his face when he lands, stew lost. Two men stand to the side laughing like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever seen. A third literally spits out a chunk of an apple he’s eating to laugh in a very unattractive manner. Another older inmate from the line runs up to Brutus and pats his back, staring daggers at the instigators.
