AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Killing a little fucktard like that is nothing. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing more. Someone to alleviate the fury that is constantly bubbling under my skin, no matter how I try to deny it. The cheers around me don’t still the demons in my body, only the scent of blood and the feel of death under my hand can calm the fire.
The only person I can mildly tolerate strides up to me with a smirk on his face, as though he knows how close I am to ripping everyone in this crowd apart. Ethan and I have known each other most of our lives, so he probably does know.
“Quick match,” Ethan says as he stops in front of me. Even he knows better than to touch me. No one touches me. I grunt in response and grab the water skin that’s held out for me. Pulling it away from my face I squirt the lukewarm liquid into my mouth letting it pour over my beard and chest. This place truly is hell. Even when it rains, it’s hotter than Hades. You’d think after more than twenty years I would be used to it.
“Why are you here?” I ask, aware that Ethan doesn’t enjoy the Pit matches as much as many of the savages in this place do. He usually introduces a match then leaves.
“New arrivals,” he replies. I exhale deeply and prepare myself for another round of mindfuckery.
Three
Ana
The loud squeal of metal fills the air only a moment after we stop, and I don’t know whether I’m happy or sad this ride from hell is over. We’ve been back here for a few hours at least, bumping along in the back of a small moving truck. The heat is oppressive and muggy, making the already unpleasant smell of fear and unwashed bodies that much worse. I’m glad I haven’t eaten today, otherwise I’m sure I would have thrown up. A few fights have broken out and with about thirty people in this cramped space, I’d guess there are about five less now.
There is something particularly horrifying about hearing the sounds of death and rape in the darkness, knowing you could be next at any moment. Not to mention what would happen if they found out I was a woman.
My body shudders at the mere thought.
The truck moves forward a bit before the loud sound of the doors closing is evident and I breathe out, readying myself for what is next. Around me the reactions vary from cheers to sobs. The latter seems like a waste of time to me, but I’m certainly not excited to be here either, so who am I to judge?
When the doors open, I already have my hat pulled back down over my face, to shield it from the light I know will be brutal after so much darkness. Plus, it keeps my face hidden. I’ve made a lot of effort to hide my femininity these past years. As was obvious by the other man’s reaction, even a young boy won’t fare well in a place like this.
Shouts pierce the air and I wait as the rest of the truck empties, pushing myself into the middle of the crowd rather than remaining at the back. We are marched to the chain link fence alongside us and tied to the rings with pieces of rope. We’re in a small corridor, a funnel to the front gate I assume is for drop-offs. I frown at the ropes on my wrists, not understanding why they tied it so flimsy. It’s a decent knot around my actual wrist but attached by a rope to the chain-link itself. It wouldn’t take long to get out of this, and it’s clear many of those around me are already working on getting themselves free.
When the truck starts behind us and the gates creak open, I begin to understand these aren’t meant to hold us for long. I twist my head and see the truck back out as the giant gates slam shut behind it.
Shit.
I hear another noise behind us and a few more militia are behind us. My eyes peer up at the guard towers surrounding the outer perimeter of this place and I wonder how many others are constantly watching.
“Don’t move,” one of them says and I, for one, stop trying to twist out of the ropes. I suppose some of the others aren’t as intelligent and continue to try to get free when I hear a shot ring out somewhere to the right of me.
I freeze, as does the rest of the lineup. Other than the ringing in my ears the only thing I can hear is the thump as a body hits the muddy ground. I stay completely still and wait until a few minutes later, the rope attached to the fence is abruptly untied and I’m unceremoniously turned around. I stand with my arms out and the length hanging down into the mud while I wait for the rest to be untied.
Carefully raising my eyes, I glance up and confirm there are only eight militia, but they all have guns. I slowly drop my head back down and wait.
“Listen up, scumbags,” a voice finally calls out from the front of the gates. “I don’t care who you are. You’re here, so you fucked up. There is only one rule in D1219; you leave these gates after we put you in, I shoot you down like the miserable dog you are.”
Dead silence until another set of heavy gates open and we are led forward into a much smaller chain-link cage. One by one we are re-tied to this new fence, and I’m fairly sure the man who tied me was actually whispering a prayer under his breath. For who? Us?
When the doors shut again, I finally lift my head to see my new home and can’t help but gasp at the sight.
The Tomb is set up in levels, one level above us, with an open ceiling above the large muddy expanse outside of this insignificant cage. The entire thing seems to be made of stone and I can immediately see where it got the name “Tomb”. The long rectangular shape looks like nothing so much as a coffin.
The outer area seems to be a kind of metal walkway with stone walls behind. The walls vary in condition, some completely gone displaying the cells behind, others with holes and bars. It looks both solid yet like it’s falling apart at the same time.
There are people—men—on every level hanging down the walkways staring at us. Their faces are grimy, elation and savagery written across each one. Whoops and hollers rain down on us, a cacophony of chaos. Some of the words I know, others are unfamiliar languages, but all of them have the same mocking and sinister cadence.
I once again work to control my breathing, the panic finally starting to set in. I have been in some awful places the past few years, gotten myself out of some close calls. But nothing compares to this. Around me, the other prisoners have a range of reactions. Some are awestruck like me, taking in the vastness of this chaotic hell. Others are crying and a new sharp scent in the air indicates at least one has lost control of his bowels. I watch in amazement as a few of the new arrivals with me shout and greet men on the other side of the gate, apparently old friends from outside these walls.
The shouts from the masses die down as a man steps forward into the muddy courtyard outside the cage. He is tall, over six feet, and it’s obvious he has some power in here. He has long brown hair tied back to show a severe look on his face which is almost clean shaven. His clothes are slightly stained and dirty but still solid, as opposed to some of the rags I see on other prisoners. He watches the cage with interest as he lifts a hand forward and a dozen men come up to open the cage.
My eyes widen as the true nature of our situation sinks in. We are being welcomed to the Tomb by its prisoners while we are tied—helpless—to its opening gates. I turn to my wrists and start to wiggle them, trying to slip under the rope. The thought of being exposed like this, bound and discovered, fills me with more unadulterated fear than I thought possible. Rough hands come and start pulling us out, leaving our wrists bound. I stop struggling as I am dragged out of the cage and onto my knees in line with the rest.
Another prisoner from the truck doesn’t go easily though. I don’t see what happens, but I do hear the shouts and struggle behind me. I watch the man beside me rather than look back, and see his face deflate in the same moment I hear a thud behind us. It doesn’t take long for them to get the rest of us out.
Other than the one man who is still laid out on the ground, I’m not sure if knocked out or dead, we all wait on bated breath for what is next. After a moment, the tall man begins to pace in front of us.
