Empty Bodies (Book 5): Damnation (23 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The dull ache in Gabriel’s back had begun to vanquish about the time he entered the cafetorium. The guards led him toward a set of double doors on the other side of the large, open room. As Gabriel moved closer to the door, he began hearing shouting and grunting from the other side.

One of the guards opened the door, and the man behind Gabriel pushed him into the gymnasium.

“Jesus,” Gabriel mumbled.

Four pairs of men stood in the room, all engaged in combat with each other. Some of them held simple, blunt-force weapons, while others wore thinly padded gloves on their hands. Each of them wore a similar garment to Gabriel’s coveralls, and each man had at least a little blood on their front. In fact, most of the men had blood on their faces, as well. Two guards stood on either wall. Each of them were armed with AR’s, and they kept their eyes squarely on the combat.

Pacing back and forth in the room was one more man. His hands behind his back, he shouted at the competitors.

One of the trainees fell to his hands and knees, and when he didn’t get back up right away, the shouting man paced over to him.

“You better get on your fucking feet right now,” the man in charge said.

Gabriel noticed the fallen man’s shoulders bouncing up and down, and he stayed on the ground.

“Are you crying?” Shouting Man asked. He laughed. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

He kicked the fallen man in the gut, and the trainee toppled over, clutching his stomach.

“You’ve got till the count of three to get up, son.”

The trainee remained on all fours. “Please,” he mumbled.

“One.”

The trainee didn’t move, and Shouting Man drew a gun from his hip.

“Two.”

The shouting man cocked the gun, and upon hearing the click, the trainee started to his feet.

“Please, I’m getting up,” the trainee said.

The trainee stood, and the shouting man grabbed him by the collar. He held him within inches of his nose, and shoved the gun under the trainee’s chin.

“You pull that shit again, son, and I’ll blow your goddamn brains out. Or maybe I’ll shoot you in the gut, let you die slowly, and turn you into one of the munchers outside,” Shouting Man laughed. He pushed the trainee back towards the man that he had been sparring with, and then turned and faced Gabriel.

“I see you brought me some new meat,” the man said to the guards.

“We did,” one of the guards said. “This is the one that Ambrose was talking about.”

“Perfect,” the man said. He looked to Gabriel. “My name’s Stanley. But you’ll refer to me as Mr. Cochran.” Stanley looked Gabriel up and down, and chuckled. “Not sure why Ambrose thinks you’re so great, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Stanley walked over to one of the trainees. He was a thin man with sandy blonde hair who appeared to be in his mid-30s.

“Go have a seat,” Stanley said to the man. “It’s your lucky day, and you get a break since we have odd numbers.”

The trainee looked to Gabriel as he walked over to the wall. His face was that of a man defeated.

“All right, you’re up,” Stanley said, looking at Gabriel.

Before Gabriel could take a step, the guard nudged him forward. Gabriel turned back and scowled at the guard, but then he walked to the spot where Stanley waited.

“Turn around,” Stanley said. He pulled a large, black marker out of his pocket.

Gabriel did as he was told, and faced his back to Stanley. He felt something poke his back, which he could only assume was the marker.

“All right,” Stanley said, and Gabriel turned around to face him again. “You’re now, simply, Number 91.”

“Couldn’t at least let me pick?” Gabriel asked.

Stanley smirked. “Just get ready to show us what you’ve got.”

Gabriel faced his opponent. The trainee opposite him stood about a half-foot taller than he himself did. He was a slender black man who appeared to be in his mid-20s, his eyes glazed over with fear. Cuts marked various parts of his face, some of them only minutes old. Blood seeped out of the new cuts, dripping down onto his coveralls. Gabriel didn’t know if he’d ever learn this man’s name, or if he’d only know him as Number 54.

Number 54 licked his lips and stood ready for his confrontation with Gabriel. Something tapped Gabriel on the back of his leg, and he turned to see Stanley handing him a bo-staff. Gabriel accepted the weapon.

“Good luck,” Stanley said.

Again, Gabriel faced Number 54, who looked like he knew about as much about handling a bo-staff as he did about using a tampon. Gabriel readied himself, not having any idea how to use the weapon, though it didn’t matter. Gabriel had the will to survive, the push to keep going and to never lose. Number 54 would be no exception.

“Everyone, ready?” Stanley asked. He had his hand raised in the air.

Gabriel bent his knees and tightened his grip on the staff.

Bringing his hand down in a chopping motion, Stanley yelled, “Go!”

Number 54 didn’t hesitate. He immediately went on the offensive, coming at Gabriel and swinging the staff. It caught Gabriel somewhat by surprise. As far as he knew, they were all prisoners here. He’d figured that they’d somewhat look out for each other.
Apparently not
, he thought. Gabriel ducked the initial swing. When he finally swung, Number 54 blocked it, and then turned around. The two men went back and forth, clanking the sticks against each other. Though Gabriel had never used a staff, the weapon felt comfortable in his hands. Fortunately, he’d been correct about his opponent’s lack of experience with the weapon.

But 54 connected the first blow, striking Gabriel on the knuckles. Gabriel yanked his hand away and waved it in the air, feeling as if, at least, one of his fingers had been broken. Trying to take advantage, 54 swung again, going for the kill-shot. But Gabriel reacted, ducking the swing. The miss turned 54 around and Gabriel gripped his staff as best he could with the hurt hand. He jammed the butt-end of it into a disoriented 54’s ribs.

Number 54 doubled over and clutched the place on his side where the staff had struck him. Gabriel then brought the staff down across 54’s back, and the man tumbled down to all fours.

Gabriel’s attention moved away from his opponent when he heard clapping. He looked over to see Stanley slapping his hands together, a smile on his face.

“Good,” Stanley said. “Now, finish him.”

Gabriel looked down to 54, who remained on all fours, one hand still massaging his rib. He glanced up to Gabriel, his eyes filled, reflecting the look of a man drawing his final breaths. He clinched his eyes shut, and looked back down to the court. Under his breath, he murmured something—perhaps a prayer.

Continuing to stare at Stanley, Gabriel dropped the staff.

Stanley scrunched his face in anger. “You better pick that up right now and finish him off.” When Gabriel turned away and reached down to offer his hand to 54, Stanley approached him and grabbed him by the collar. “You pathetic son of a bitch.”

The back of Stanley’s hand struck Gabriel across his cheek, grazing his nose, which was still sore from the auto accident. Gabriel clenched his fist. When he turned to counter Stanley’s attack, he paused after hearing rifles click from each side of the room. He looked up and saw the guards aiming directly at his chest, and he froze.

With the defense of four armed guards, Stanley intruded into Gabriel’s personal space.

“When you’re in here, you’ll do as I say,” Stanley said. “I could give two shits what Ambrose thinks of you, and what the reason is he thinks that you’re special. This here is my house. If I say to bark like a dog, you’ll bark. If I say to stand on one leg, then onto one you’ll go. And if I tell you to finish your opponent, then goddamn, you will strike him down. You hear me?”

Gabriel glared at Stanley and his mind wandered. He wanted to do nothing more than to grab the man’s head and twist it like a bottle cap. But would it be worth it? Killing this man would serve a short-term need, but it would also end his own life. And he’d die not knowing whether his wife and daughter were out there somewhere, waiting.

Gabriel nodded. “I’ve got it.”

“I’ve got it,
sir.
”

Again, Gabriel waited, sneering at Stanley. Growing impatient, Stanley grabbed him again by the collar, and he reared back his fist. Gabriel flinched, awaiting the blow. But instead of the sound of Stanley grunting and throwing a punch, the door opened.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Gabriel opened his eyes and looked over toward the door. Entering the gymnasium, with Lance and Derek at his side, was Ambrose.

The grip on Gabriel became nonexistent as Stanley let him go and stood up straight, facing Nathan Ambrose.

“Just going over some training, sir,” Stanley said.

‘Don’t give a shit what Ambrose thinks’, my ass
, thought Gabriel.

Ambrose approached the two men. It was as if the rest of the people in the room had vanished. When he reached the men, Ambrose looked Gabriel up and down. He took Gabriel by the chin and turned his head. A bruise had begun to form where Stanley’s hand had struck him, and a trickle of blood dripped from Gabriel’s nose. Ambrose let go.

“You roughing him up?” Ambrose asked Stanley.

“No, sir, I wasn’t ‘roughing him up’. I was toughening him up.”

“I see,” Ambrose said. He put his hand on Stanley’s shoulder and said, “Good work.”

Stanley smiled. “Thank you.”

Ambrose patted Stanley on the shoulder. He turned halfway around then before ramming his fist into the trainer’s stomach. Stanley doubled over, and Ambrose grabbed the trainer’s shirt and stood him up straight.

“I told you to put him through a training session,” Ambrose said. “I didn’t tell you to hit him. If I’d wanted you to rough him up, I’d have told you to do so.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ambrose backhanded Stanley and said, “Don’t talk.”

Stanley nodded.

“Now,” Ambrose said. “You’re going to tell Mr. Alexander that you’re sorry, and then you’re going to send everyone to the showers. Is that clear?”

Again, Stanley nodded. Ambrose let him go.

His hands still on his stomach, Stanley said to Gabriel, “I-I’m sorry.”

Gabriel nodded, using his forearm to apply pressure to his bleeding nose. He felt no remorse for the asshole trainer, but he also didn’t appreciate the bullshit sympathy from Ambrose. He still didn’t know why Ambrose thought he was so special. Surely at least some of these other men standing in the room had had to survive out in the world after it had gone to shit.

“Everyone, hit the showers.”

Gabriel had turned to head to the showers when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned back to Ambrose.

“Have a good night, Gabriel. Because tomorrow, you’re up.”

He patted Gabriel on the shoulder, then headed for the door.

After Ambrose had turned to leave, Lance made eye contact with Gabriel. The man in the hat smiled and winked, and Gabriel knew he had to be cackling on the inside.

And all Gabriel could think was that every one of these men was going to die. Even if that meant he had to go down himself to see it happen.

***

After a shower, two guards led Gabriel back to his room. The time in the shower had been awkward when it should have been one of his more enjoyable experiences while stuck in the prison. The entire time, he had not only felt Stanley’s eyes on him, but many of the other prisoners’. They’d likely been wondering why Gabriel had been given special treatment.

Halfway back to his room, he realized the guards were leading him the wrong way. He noticed when they took a left down one hallway when he could’ve sworn they should’ve taken a right. He was just about to say something when one of the guards went to a door and unlocked it. Feet shuffled on the other side.

The door swung open, and two silhouettes faced him from the middle of the dark room. His eyes veered from the shapes and drew to the beds on the floor. He sighed, thankful that he’d have somewhere to sleep.

“Gabriel?”

The female voice came from inside the room. When the figure moved closer to the door, Jessica’s face appeared in the light.

Gabriel smiled and hurried into the room.

Her hands unbound, Jessica wrapped her arms around Gabriel. He leaned into her, his wrists still bound by steel cuffs. Looking over Jessica’s shoulder, Gabriel noticed Claire, now sitting down on one of the beds.

“Break it up and give me your hands, 91,” one of the guards said.

Gabriel turned to face the guard, who unlocked the cuffs. He then retreated from the room, and shut and locked the door behind him, leaving Gabriel, Jessica, and Claire in darkness.

Alone now, Gabriel focused his attention on Claire. He went to her, leaning down to hug her.

“I’m so sorry,” Gabriel said. Though he couldn’t see her, it made no difference. She sniffled, and he could feel how wet her face was from crying as it ran up against his own. She didn’t respond with words. Gabriel held the embrace for several moments before letting go. Claire lay down on her side and curled up, signaling she wanted to be left alone.