Empty Bodies (Book 5): Damnation

by Zach Bohannon

  Timothy furrowed his brow. “What’s in the letter?”

  “The truth,” Will replied. “Or at least as much as we’ve learned about it.”

  Timothy looked as if he wanted to ask another question, but Will cut him off.

  “Please, just wait until we’re gone, and read it. Things are going to seem quite unreal. Hopefully you’ve gained my trust enough to where you can believe that everything I have written here is true. It should help you and your people understand this world a little bit more and help you to survive.”

  Licking his lips, Timothy stared down at the letter, and then back up at Will. He looked as if he had so many questions. Will knew that he would have many more once he read about Samuel drawing the demon out of him, but he’d tried his best in the letter to answer any questions Samuel or the others might have after reading it.

  Timothy smiled and said, “All right.” He extended his hand once more, and Will shook it. This time, Timothy pulled him in for a hug. They embraced, and Will pulled away and patted him on the shoulder, then walked to the SUV.

  Holly, Charlie, and Dylan were already inside when Will approached. He shook hands with Doug and Samantha, then hugged Maureen, thanking her for all of her hospitality.

  As Will loaded into the SUV, Timothy called after him and he turned.

  “You know where we are if you change your mind,” Timothy said.

  Will smiled and nodded. He loaded into the SUV, and they were headed North again, back on the open roads.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The scene played over and over again in Gabriel’s head. Everything from watching the two men walk out onto the field, as the crowd cheered at them as if they were animals, to both of the competitors’ lives ending in such a horrific way. They’d been eaten alive, and no one in the crowd aside from Gabriel had seemed to give a damn. Gabriel had always told himself that if he were in a position where getting eaten by an Empty was a certainty, he’d take as many of the bastards out as he could, before using the last bullet on himself. But neither of these men had been given that choice.

  Worst of all, Gabriel now knew why he was here. What he didn’t know was why he’d been given his own space, or why Ambrose had opted to take a one-on-one meeting with him. Gabriel was just a pawn in Ambrose’s sick game—a gladiator slave like in ancient Rome. What Gabriel had seen was the form of entertainment in a lawless land. Nothing more. And, now, he was part of the game.

  Back in his room, Gabriel sat on top of a desk, a sharp hunger in his stomach. He remained alone, still turning to thoughts of his family, to Dylan, and wondering what had come of Jessica, Thomas, and Claire. He’d looked for them at the stadium, but hadn’t spotted them in the crowd. He thought that perhaps they’d been in attendance, but placed in a spot where they’d been unable to locate Gabriel or each other.

  Someone approached, and Gabriel didn’t even bother to get up off the desk. If these people were coming for him, so be it.

  The sound stopped in front of the door, and the handle clicked. His elbow resting on his knees, Gabriel didn’t look toward the door as it opened. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Philadelphia Eagles hat.

  “Come on,” Lance said.

  Gabriel snorted. “What? You gonna drag me out there and let me prance around in front of all those fucking psychopaths?”

  Lance made a move toward Gabriel, but was held back by the guard with long hair.

  “Derek, let me go,” Lance said.

  “You insane, Lance? You really think laying a hand on this douche is gonna be worth it when you have to explain it to Ambrose?”

  Gabriel finally looked over and found amusement in looking at Lance’s face. His cheeks had turned beet-red, and his eyes looked like they might explode from their sockets. He breathed like he’d just sprinted two hundred yards.

  Lance’s mouth curved into a malevolent smile.

  “It’s all right,” Lance said. “You got plenty comin’ to you, you piece of shit.”

  Derek stepped in front of his counterpart and said to Gabriel, “Come on. Mr. Ambrose wants to see you.”

  Gabriel drew in a deep breath, and then he stood.

  ***

  They led Gabriel outside and, for the first time, he was able to see the front part of the school. It looked to be out in the middle of nowhere, as no major roads appeared to be nearby. There was no sign of any other buildings or even any residential establishments. Trees lined the perimeter of the property. Seeing’s how the school appeared to sit out on its own, he was surprised at just how big it was. The sign out front confirmed it was a high school. From the size of it, he guessed that the senior class of this year might have had nearly 300 students.

  The two guards led Gabriel down a sidewalk. Up ahead, he saw the group’s gray haired leader, sitting on a large concrete slab near the school’s entrance. A flagpole rose from the middle of the structure, reaching thirty feet into the sky. It had been built as a large bench which the likes of thirty or forty students could have sat on. Nathan Ambrose sat on the second level of the bench, his back facing Gabriel. Smoke rose from the front side of him, spreading into the air to form a cloud. Once they had almost reached Ambrose, he turned around.

  Ten feet away from Ambrose, Derek stopped, and Lance came around next to Gabriel’s other side. Ambrose motioned to the bench beside him.

  “Have a seat, Gabriel,” Ambrose said.

  Nathan drew the last drag from his cigar, then ground the tip into the concrete before flicking it away.

  “How’d you sleep?” Ambrose asked.

  Gabriel snorted. “How do you think? You ever slept on a tile floor with no pillow or blanket?”

  Ambrose laughed. “Well, if you comply, there’s a chance you may not have to sleep on that tile floor again.”

  Gabriel didn’t respond.

  “I spent last night reading your girl’s diary,” Ambrose said. “Well, not your girl per se, but your friend, Jessica.”

  That’s how they know my name, Gabriel thought.

  Ambrose stood up, and groaned as he stretched. He stepped off the concrete bench, onto the ground.

  “Walk with me.”

  Gabriel joined Nathan at his side. Nathan glanced over to the two guards, and signaled for them to hang back.

  Ambrose put his hands behind his back as they started to stroll down the sidewalk.

  “You folks have been through a lot,” Nathan began.

  “You could say that,” Gabriel said.

  “You guys seemed to have a really good thing going for you at that hospital, and then also at those cabins. You were with other people. Why’d you leave?”

  “I guess you could say that we had a different agenda,” Gabriel said.

  “I see,” Ambrose said. “Headed to D.C.?”

  Gabriel didn’t respond.

  “That’s what I figured. A lot of the people we’ve picked up were headed to D.C. They all think they are going to find some kind of refuge there.” Ambrose chuckled. “Yeah, right. You’re dumb as hell if you think you’re going to find that there.”

  “How do you know?” Gabriel asked.

  “You think we haven’t been there? The government has fallen apart, Mr. Alexander. Washington is just as broken as anywhere else in the country. You’re not going to find peace there.”

  Gabriel hesitated. He thought to tell Ambrose about the real reason he needed to get to the D.C. area, but decided against it. The less Nathan knew about him, the better. And at this point, Ambrose already knew too much.

  “Not exactly feeling like I’m gonna find peace here, either,” Gabriel said.

  Ambrose smiled. “That, you will not. But, you can make things a lot easier on yourself if you want.”

  “And how is that?”

  “You agree to do as I say. For at least a time, I own you, Mr. Alexander. That is the case whether you like it or not, and whether you want to believe it or not. The sooner you accept that, the better a chance you have of living at
least a little bit longer.”

  Gabriel stopped and turned to face Ambrose. Lance started to come forward as if he might lunge at Gabriel, but Nathan stopped him with a raised palm, never allowing his eyes to leave Gabriel’s. The dull stench of dozens of cigars drowned out Nathan’s face. His yellow teeth flashed through his cunning smile. Years of tobacco abuse were settled into his stained, gray mustache.

  “Fuck you,” Gabriel said.

  Without hesitation, Lance leaned forward and punched Gabriel, landing a jab to his cheek. Gabriel fell backward onto the ground. Lance straddled Gabriel, bringing his hand back to throw another punch. Gabriel heard a click, and Lance froze, slowly looking back.

  Ambrose pointed a revolver at Lance’s face, who lifted the bill of his hat so that he could see easier.

  “I suggest you get up, Lance,” Ambrose said.

  “Boss, what are you—”

  Ambrose fired. The bullet blew into the concrete sidewalk, narrowly missing Lance.

  “I swear to Christ, I won’t waste another bullet. The next one goes right between your goddamn eyes, so you better get the fuck up, right now.”

  Without looking back toward Gabriel, Lance stood. Just as he made it to his feet, Ambrose grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed the butt-end of the revolver into his nose. Gabriel heard the crunch and saw a splash of blood spray from the side of Lance’s face. The Eagles hat fell off of his head as he cried out, doubling over to hold his nose.

  Ambrose looked down to Gabriel, who still lay on the ground holding his own face.

  “We’ll see who does all the fucking around here.” Ambrose looked at Derek. “Get Mr. Alexander back to his room, and then take your fairy friend here over to medical to get that nose checked out.”

  Ambrose put on a pair of sunglasses, took one last look at Gabriel, and then walked away.

  Lance cussed Gabriel all the way back to his room. If it hadn’t been for the pain in his own face, Gabriel might have laughed, and especially since he knew that Lance couldn’t touch him. Instead, he chose to ignore him all together.

  Derek uncuffed Gabriel, pushed him into the classroom, and locked the door.

  A bowl of soup lay on one of the desks. It was in a small Styrofoam bowl, and had a plastic spoon inside it. Gabriel took the spoon and shoveled the first scoop into his mouth. It was cold and bland, but he didn’t care.

  As Gabriel ate, he reflected more on what he’d seen earlier in the day and what Ambrose had told him. He wondered what exactly Nathan had in store for him, and more importantly, what it had to do with the sadistic spectacle on the football field. He hoped that, if they were going to throw him out onto that field, he’d be served a real meal first. Gabriel didn’t see a scenario in which he would survive if he hardly had enough energy to stay on his feet.

  He wondered, again, where Jessica, Thomas, and Claire were, and if they were okay.

  All these things raced through his mind until he fell asleep on the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sometime, in what Jessica guessed was the middle of the day, people marched down the hall toward her and Claire’s room. Jessica sat on top of a desk while Claire stood up from the floor. She cowered, stepping back into the corner of the room, her arms across her chest, trying to keep herself warm.

  “Just stay calm,” Jessica said.

  A familiar face appeared in the window, and Jessica hopped off the desk. The two guards, Lance and Derek, appeared in the doorway, each holding a rifle. Derek reached down to his belt, grabbed a set of handcuffs, and threw them to Jessica.

  “Put these on.” He looked over to Claire, who’d slid down the wall and now sat down in the corner of the room. “And you, get over here.”

  Jessica held the handcuffs in her hands, staring at them.

  “Did you hear me?” Derek asked.

  “Where are you taking us?” Jessica asked in return.

  In the corner, Claire started to cry. Lance, who Jessica had learned was the more ill-tempered of the two guards, let out a frustrated sigh and marched over to where Claire had sunk onto the tile floor.

  “Please, don’t hurt her,” Jessica said. “She’s just scared.”

  Lance apparently hadn’t heard Jessica or just didn’t care—likely the latter. He bent over in the corner and yanked Claire off of the ground, pulling her up by the baggy shoulders of her jumpsuit. She fought it, bucking like a spoiled toddler, until Lance slammed her into the wall.

  “Bitch, if you don’t stop this fuckin’ horse shit right now, I’m gonna be draggin’ your ass out of here unconscious. You got that?”

  Claire nodded, unable to control her sniffling. Lance cuffed her, then grabbed her by the back of her jumpsuit and led her over to the door.

  When Jessica turned around again, Derek was just a couple of feet from her.

  “I suggest you put those on like I asked, and that you don’t ask anymore questions.”

  Jessica put on the handcuffs.

  The two guards led Jessica and Claire down a familiar path. Jessica remembered the cafetorium from when she’d been taken to the disgusting man, Bruce, for processing. She pleaded in her head that she wouldn’t be returning to him now. There were few places they could take her now that would be more terrifying than looking into his predatory eyes again.

  Then the doors to the gymnasium opened, and she saw such a place.

  ***

  Not being forced in or pulled by either of the guards, Jessica stopped in the doorway and simply looked. Her brain lagged behind her eyes, and she couldn’t exactly process what she was seeing.

  Spread across the gymnasium floor, a group of around ten other women stood in pairs. They wore almost identical jumpsuits to what Jessica and Claire wore, and each held a different weapon in their hands, none of which were firearms. Most of the women had blood on their faces, and they all appeared to have stains on the front of their jumpsuits. Two men stood guard on either wall, each holding their own weapons—assault rifles. Another man walked back and forth with his hands behind his back as he shouted instructions at the women.

  Derek grabbed onto Jessica’s arm, pulling her attention away from the scene.

  “Well, you’re not just here to watch,” Derek said. “Get your ass in here.”

  As Jessica and Claire walked into the gymnasium, the man in charge stopped shouting at the women. Everyone watched the two new women enter.

  “We’ve got some new trainees for you, Stanley,” Lance said.

  “Excellent,” Stanley said. He looked over to two of the women next to him. Pointing to a blonde, he said, “You, go with her.” He was directing her to Claire. This meant Jessica would be paired with the other woman. She was a redhead who stood two inches taller than Jessica and appeared to be twenty pounds heavier.

  Stanley approached Jessica. He grabbed her arms and squeezed, then smiled.

  “We’ve got a strong one here.”

  “Why am I here?” Jessica asked.

  Stanley stepped out of the way, and Derek removed the handcuffs from Jessica’s wrists. Stanley turned around and linked his hands behind his back.

  “Why are you here, you ask?” Stanley answered. He snorted, then turned back, glancing back and forth between Jessica and Claire. “You’re here to learn how to fight.”

  “For what?” Jessica asked.

  Stanley smiled, and then turned around. “Ladies, why don’t you show these newcomers what we do here?”

  Jessica looked over to the redhead standing across from her. She pinned the woman at ten years her senior. Her hands trembled on the staff that she held, and fear filled her eyes. Jessica winced when she felt a sting in her calf, and turned to a smirking Lance, holding a staff in his hand.

  “Here you go, darlin’,” Lance said.

  Jessica accepted the staff, then turned to face the redhead.

  “Ready?” Stanley asked. He looked back and forth between the two women, and then brought his hand down in a chopping motion. “Fight!”<
br />
  Redhead seemed startled after the command, as if Jessica would come lunging at her. But Jessica didn’t. Instead, she glanced over to Stanley and dropped the staff down to the ground. Stanley smiled, and then looked over to Redhead. He nodded toward Jessica.

  Redhead froze. “Y-you want me to still fight? She’s defenseless.”

  “That’s her goddam problem,” Stanley said. “Fight!”

  Jessica held her ground. She simply sneered at Stanley, standing her ground. Impatient, Stanley marched over to Redhead.

  “22,” he said, calling Redhead by a number. “If you don’t fight right now, I swear to Christ that you’re going to regret it.”

  22 looked to Jessica again, and clenched her eyes shut. She drew in a deep breath, then stepped toward Jessica.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She swung the staff, cracking Jessica in the ribs. Jessica doubled over, and then 22 grunted and struck Jessica in her knee. Jessica fell to the ground, moaning as she rolled on her side and grabbed her knee. 22 backed up, wiping a tear from her eye. Stanley grabbed her by the collar.

  “Don’t fucking cry! When you’re out there with those beasts, you won’t be crying. You won’t be remorseful when you knock them down. No mercy!”

  Stanley then bent over and picked Jessica up. She still held her knee, and did her best to keep weight off of it as Stanley lifted her up.

  “You ready to quit being a fucking hero, or do you want me to have her take your other knee out?”

  Jessica breathed heavily, but kept herself from crying. Her knee ached, and she felt her rib scream at her with each breath she took. Stanley picked the staff up and put it back into her free hand. She used her other hand to massage her side, where her rib ached. She wanted nothing more than to swing the staff as hard as she could and break it over the top of Stanley’s head. But she thought better of it, looking past him to remember the armed guards standing against the wall. One move toward him, and she’d be dead

  Stanley lifted her head by the chin. “You will do this. You will complete your training.” He turned away.