Hunted

by Abi Ketner

  “Hi,” I say to the man. Cole peeks through the hole, and I whisper, “God, I hope he’s a man of his word.”

  “That makes two of us,” Cole says.

  A few minutes later, more feet enter the room, and Cole jumps up. From the sound of Zeus’s nails on the floor, he’s pacing and sniffing all around.

  “Wow. You have a lot of friends,” Cole says.

  “Not everyone is loyal to that imbecile,” the man says.

  People begin moving chunks of cement and whatever else fell through the ceiling. Everyone talks in whispers as they shuffle around. I press my back to the wall as the dust rises again.

  “Here goes nothing,” a voice says.

  I hear a collective grunting and then feel a breeze hit me in the face. Twelve pairs of eyes peer back at me as I count six men holding up the gigantic piece of cement that was covering me. I climb out of the space as they drop it on the floor. Dust poofs upward.

  “Thanks, guys,” I say hesitantly. Two of them smile, but the others frown. Their figures tower over me, and they’re better fed than most Sinners in the Hole judging from their healthy coloring. All of them have facial hair with beards of varying lengths, but even that doesn’t hide their brands. Three orange brands for gluttony, two black for sloth, one green for envy. The one branded green smiles shyly. It strikes me as interesting that the other smiling man has no brand at all.

  “It was nothing,” the unbranded man says, stepping forward. I recognize his voice as the man who first discovered us here, in his house.

  I take a good look at him and offer to shake his hand. Cole instinctively steps to my side. I notice the man hasn’t even removed his lab coat yet.

  “It wasn’t nothing to us,” Cole says. “Thank you.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask the man.

  “Hank.”

  “Nice to meet you, Hank.”

  “And it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Hey, by any chance have you heard anyone in the lab mention the name Sutton?”

  “Yeah, actually I have. If I recall correctly, they have him working in the medical part of the lab. But I’ve never seen him.”

  “He’s working? In the medical part?”

  “I don’t have a clue what goes on behind those doors, none of us do.”

  “Do you ever see any of them, coming or going?”

  “They don’t ever leave; they sleep there.”

  “But they have to let them out at some point, right?”

  “No, they don’t. We hand them cylinders via a pass-through, but we never get to actually see them.”

  “Oh, okay. What’s in the cylinders?” I ask.

  “Lexi, we need to go,” Cole interrupts. “Thank you, Hank.” He whistles to Zeus and signals for me to follow him, even as my legs feel like they are about to give out.

  “You’re welcome,” Hank says.

  “Wait,” I say, limping along behind Cole. “If you see Sutton, tell him I’m here and that we’re working with Roméo.” Hank gives me a funny look. “He’ll know what it means.”

  “I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything,” he says.

  “Thank you so much, and take care of yourself,” I say.

  “And you do the same. Whatever you do … don’t let Wilson catch you.”

  Cole shakes Hank’s hand. He practically shoves me through the doorway and into the alley before anyone can say another word. I have to rub my eyes to believe what I’m seeing.

  In the darkness, I see the silhouettes of bodies moving about on the street. I guess the guards don’t grab Sinners for the labs at night because I see more now than I ever did during the day. Cole rubs his chin and rocks on his feet at the crossway.

  Do we go right or left? I’m unsure. I rub my arms as a chill shoots through me. The shadowy figures of Sinners moving about the street unnerves me in a way I can’t explain. It’s like watching skeletons wade past in a sea of death. The whites of their eyes gleam in the moonlight. I hear screaming and clasp my gun tight.

  A woman streaks out of a doorway close to us, causing me to jump in my skin. She’s lucky I don’t shoot her. My hands shake, and my heart thumps in my ears. In her hands, I see a small piece of bread.

  Cole jerks to a stop as another woman, slight of build, stalks down the first and punches her. A feral look covers her face as she bares her teeth and narrows her eyes. She lands a thundering punch, and the first woman goes down to the ground. The second one plucks the bread from her hand and shoves it into her ravenous mouth. Only then does she see us.

  I freeze. She squints. Then she scampers back into the dark entrance of the house. I feel queasy. Moving around in the darkness will only get us so far. Pretty soon all of us, including Zeus, will be easy to identify.

  Cole maneuvers through alleys and over trash, inside a concrete jungle of gutted houses and crumbling buildings.

  The pungent smell of feces mixed with tepid water, sweat, and the burning stench of old blood seems to penetrate us everywhere we turn. I wrinkle my nose. No matter how many times I inhale it, it never seems natural.

  It’s taking longer to get back to the underground, and for a moment, I think we’re lost. The timid light of the sun is creeping up toward the horizon when I tap Cole on the shoulder. He looks behind him and holds up his fist. Zeus’s lips curl up, and he stands rigid. I freeze in place.

  “Turn around,” Cole says.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shoves me back behind him, but in my confusion, I stumble to the side. His hand catches me, and he looks me directly in the eyes. His voice comes out in a desperate, pleading whisper.

  “You don’t want to see this.”

  I wrinkle my forehead and push his hand off my shoulder.

  Zeus’s ears stand straight up, and his hair raises as he lets out a low growl. Something’s not right. I glance around Cole.

  The crude wooden stage’s stark outline settles against the pink of the morning light, taking my breath away. I blink back the memory of Claire and Mac, executed for loving each other just a few months ago. This is the exact place where I witnessed their murder at Wilson’s hands. Cole tried to protect me even then.

  Now, the faces of the people gathering around the stage wear tightly pressed lips and fearful eyes. I can’t stop myself from clenching my fists in anticipation. Outside of the staging area, even more Sinners congregate, and guards stand at the edges, patrolling with their weapons raised. As much as I want to run the other way, I’m more curious. I take a step toward them, but Cole’s hand catches my elbow.

  “No,” he says. I yank myself away from him. “We’re not chancing it.”

  “I have to see what’s going on,” I say.

  I push my hair around my neck and face, and slowly edge toward the crowd. Cole grunts behind me, but I can’t stop myself from moving toward the large group of people. If something’s happening, I want to know what it is.

  I can’t tell exactly how many people have shown up, maybe a hundred or more, but I find an opening at the rim and work my way in. No one seems to notice since their eyes are all glued to the stage. Their whispers carry though, and I can’t ignore them.

  “First execution since … ” a voice dies off.

  “When they brought Keegan’s body here, that was the last time he showed up in person,” another voice says. I watch as the person leans over to her neighbor. “And they stripped him of his clothes; it was a sad sight.”

  “I hear he was bloated as a balloon by the time they … ”

  “Wonder who they’re bringin’ in this time. Must be somebody important.”

  Bile burns its way up my throat, but I force it back down with a hard swallow. I attempt shuffling to the right. I don’t want to hear anymore. But the words ring painful, dangling in my ears despite it. My heart feels like someone’s ripped a hole through it.

  Suddenly, an SUV pulls up in a cloud of dust. The brakes squeal to a halt. Every guard around the perimeter stands ramrod straight and sal
utes. Usually, a musical anthem would play, but not this time.

  I press my lips together and feel my muscles stiffen. The crowd goes silent. The people seem to cower in place, lowering their eyes. It’s hard to swallow the lump in my throat when I hear the loudspeaker on the SUV turn on.

  With a bang and a groan, the driver jumps out and opens the back door. A shorter man steps out, his face turned down and his posture rigid, while the driver drags a crumpled figure out of the backseat.

  My heart stops.

  A hand rests on my shoulder, but I cut my eyes toward the vehicle, noting the familiar gaits, the heights and temperaments of the people exiting. My hands feel clammy. I turn back to see who’s touching me and find Cole off my right shoulder. He grits his teeth and stands completely stiff.

  The shorter man climbs up onto the stage first. The sun rises behind him, forcing me to squint. I’ve been up for days, and the rims of my eyes burn like acid. The Sinners seem to inhale one collective breath as the crumpled figure is pulled across the stage and forced to kneel.

  He looks up, and his green eyes catch the light. His gray hair is all but replaced by tufts of white. His hands are tied behind him. The bloodstained lab coat he wears hangs off his fragile figure, and his pants look five sizes too big.

  Suddenly, I want to scream.

  Sutton.

  No. No. No. Please, God, no. I gasp. My feet move before it even registers. I push people aside and attempt to swim through the mass of bodies separating me from him. He doesn’t even know I’m here! I’m breathless. My heart races as I try to push my way through.

  Cole snatches me back, jerking me to a halt as Sinners glance my way. What the hell? I give him a dirty look and am tempted to pound him with my fists. I rip my wrist away as he grabs me back with his powerful grip, wrenching me to my senses.

  “Hold still.” His voice comes out in a hiss.

  This is my only shot! He’s right there! I have to save him!

  Before anyone recognizes me, the loudspeaker blares to life. The shrill voice on stage steals my attention. Guards file in behind the short man.

  “You all know this man, but you might not recognize him,” Wilson says. He delivers a swift kick to Sutton’s broken body, and it takes everything within me not to cry out. My hands cover my mouth, and I bite down on the skin of my palm, drawing blood.

  Sutton’s head snaps up as he absorbs the pain. He falls forward onto his hands. For a moment, I don’t think he’ll get back up. God, please help him. His jaw tightens before he pushes himself back up, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down.

  My stomach wraps itself into knots. I step backward for a moment, clutching my core. This isn’t the first time they’ve roughed him up by the look of the cuts and bruises all over his face and neck.

  As the sun breaches the soulless, dark walls, Sutton’s eyes wander up to the clouds, and I wonder who he’s thinking of, or if he’s praying like me. I glance around quickly, trying to come up with some sort of plan, but there are too many guards and they’d see me before I ever reached him. Unable to use my gun, I stand helpless in the face of pure evil.

  “The mighty Dr. Sutton. The untouchable brother of the Commander,” Wilson says. He gives a thin, wicked smile. His eyes turn into slits. “He led the revolt against his own brother, leading insurgents and ingrates to their death. But now he bows to me.”

  Wilson winds up and delivers another kick with the toe of his heavy boot to Sutton’s side. Sutton grimaces as he collapses to his right, his hands flying to his ribs. The crowd is deathly silent as Sutton’s rasping breaths fill the void. As the light flows across his face, I take note of the way his hands tremble.

  “Ms. Hamilton, if you don’t turn yourself in within forty-eight hours, I will kill your precious Sutton. Right here on this stage.” Wilson spits on Sutton, who still grasps his ribs. I recoil with disgust and horror. “I will pluck out his eyes. I’ll rip out every individual fingernail. You will watch as I make him suffer.” Wilson’s high-pitched threats draw me in. All I want is to kill him. I can’t stop my hands from clenching and unclenching.

  Then Sutton’s head rises. His eyes meet mine, and they widen with shock or fear. He shakes his head back and forth ever so slightly. He’s losing weight, and his hair has turned white seemingly overnight. But the very force of his stare makes me stop.

  I need to save you.

  “No,” he mouths.

  You’re the only father I have now.

  “Leave me,” he says. He coughs, and I watch as he grimaces.

  “I can’t,” I whisper.

  He mouths something else.

  “What?”

  He peeks at Wilson, who drones on about ruling the Hole and bringing Sinners in for “check-ups.” He’s so caught up in himself that he doesn’t notice Sutton communicating right in front of him. He paces to the far left of the stage.

  But then a guard, who’s staring at Sutton, stops to glance in my direction, squinting; I duck behind a man in front of me, and slowly, I look over his shoulder as the guard turns back to Sutton.

  “Get … records,” Sutton mouths.

  The guard swings back around, and I duck again, praying he doesn’t see who Sutton’s trying to talk to.

  I bite my lip. I know exactly what he said this time, and my shoulders slump. Even if I don’t stand a chance at rescuing him with all these people around, I can’t bear the thought of leaving him. Not like this. Not in the shape he’s in.

  “You work for me!” Wilson shouts.

  He punches Sutton’s face. Blood pours from the corner of Sutton’s mouth as he lies on the platform, spitting and coughing. A squeal escapes from my mouth. Everyone looks at me. Wilson glances up. His eyes scan the crowd as he motions for his guards to search.

  Sutton’s sea-green eyes plead with me from afar. Leave me, he’s begging, but I’m having a hard time breathing.

  “Go!” he yells this time.

  “Find her,” Wilson orders loudly. “She’s here.”

  It’s a trap.

  I shuffle backward, and then slowly attempt to phase out of the crowd. The guards push their way through as the people around me begin shoving and screaming. Their bodies block me from finding my way out. All my blood rushes to my ears. I pull my gun out from my waistband and grip it as I dive into the sea of arms and legs. I can’t see Sutton anymore. Or Cole. Or Zeus.

  Gunfire rakes the crowd, and I slam to the ground. Now, everyone’s clamoring, and people claw at the dirt to get away. I’m like an animal, covered in dust, on all fours, as bloody flesh scatters in bits around me. I feel the splatter of blood on my face, but I keep going.

  Wilson’s yelling over the banging of the gunfire. As I get to the edge, a guard turns toward me, pointing the muzzle of his gun at my chest. My hair hangs over my neck, but his eyes widen when they meet mine.

  I’m screwed.

  He reaches up to signal to his men, but before he can, blood pumps from his chest. He’s been shot. I launch myself forward onto my feet and sprint away from the cacophony surrounding me.

  Next thing, Cole’s behind me, firing off shots. His M4 bangs away in bursts of three. With his support, I focus on what’s in front of us, my nostrils flaring as we bolt down the street, through alleys, and push our way through shacks that topple onto each other like dominoes. Guns burst behind us, chewing up the dirt, but they don’t follow for long.

  Soon, all I hear is the faint sound of guns and screams. Everything within me wants to go back, to rescue Sutton and kill Wilson, but that’s not what Sutton asked of me. I can’t stop picturing the way he pleaded with me to go, the way his green eyes stood out against his swollen, broken skin. I stumble to the side and heave. When I begin running again, Cole’s waiting for me, his face bloodied and tight.

  I wonder where Zeus is, when he hops in front of me. His haunches appear out of nowhere, yet a bone dangles from his mouth. I slow to a jog and examine him. His fur’s matted with blood, but he’s not wounded. I
squeeze my eyes closed and then stop. He sits and looks up at me, the bone hanging from his teeth.

  I want to barf. Again.

  Even Cole stops. He leans into a crevice in the walls, and I hear him getting sick.

  The bone’s not a ham bone at all. It’s not even an animal bone. The bottom half has flesh hanging off of it. While I gag on my own spit, I reach out to him. He whines and dances in a circle. Bits fly off, landing in the dirt.

  “Zeus, drop it,” I say. My voice breaks.

  He drops the bone on the ground, and my hands fly to my mouth. The bloodied flesh lands with a splat as the bone rolls inches away from my dirt-laden boots. I kick it away, afraid of losing my entire stomach if I look at it again.

  “No!” I say. “Leave it!” Zeus hangs his head, and his tail droops. I watch as he backs into a wall and lies down with his head in his paws.

  Cole’s head pops up, and he looks slightly green. He glances toward Zeus and then back at me, but he says nothing. Judging from the creases on his forehead, he’s worried. He fingers his trigger and looks eagerly at the street.

  I’m too afraid to talk. Every muscle, tendon, and ligament in my body is wound so tight, I can barely flex. Yet I can’t stand still. I bounce on my feet. I’m ready to get the hell out of here.

  A movement catches my eye, and my insides twist. My hand automatically goes to my gun as the hairs on the back of my neck feel electric. A few feet away, a female in the street stops and stands up straight. I think she’s looking at us, but I can’t tell. Then she starts walking toward us.

  Cole puts his hand on my wrist and shoves me behind him. Zeus bares his teeth, and I hear a slow, deep rumble from within his belly.

  “Cole?” the voice asks.

  No freaking way is this happening.

  Her voice sounds familiar. It’s coy, and as she comes closer, I see the auburn tint of her hair in the sunlight.

  No way. Not now.

  “Amber?”

  “I knew it. I knew I saw you.” She smiles, and some of her teeth are gone. Her stringy hair wafts in the breeze, and her bony hands stretch out to hug him. He shakes her hand awkwardly instead. I can tell by her eyes she’s hiding something, and I don’t like it. Zeus woofs at her, and she steps back, the smile fading from her hollowed cheeks.