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!”
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.
Jessica stood up straight. When she looked over, she saw Claire, who was crying, holding a staff in her own hands. She stood square with the blonde that Stanley had paired her with.
“Now, let’s try this again,” Stanley said. “All together now. Let us see what you’re made of.”
A new focus appeared in Jessica’s eyes. She collected every emotion she’d usually pour onto paper, determined to use it as fuel. Every ounce of pain and sorrow.
Stanley raised his hand, and then brought it down in the chopping motion again. “Go!”
This time, Jessica didn’t hesitate. She lunged at 22, who was taken aback by Jessica’s sudden surge. Only, Jessica didn’t see the face of the aged redhead. Instead, she saw the face of Bruce as an Empty. She swung the staff, which 22 blocked with her own. But Jessica quickly struck again, connecting with 22’s knee. Much like Jessica had before, 22 doubled over and held her leg. Jessica raised the staff over her head, ready to bring a final blow down onto the back of 22’s skull. She looked over to Stanley, who smiled uncontrollably. Jessica waited, expecting him to give her the signal to finish 22, which she would not do. But it never came. Instead, he clapped his hands.
“Good,” Stanley said.
Jessica looked back down to 22, who cried through glassy eyes. She’d fallen onto the ground now, grabbing at her knee. Jessica felt a sudden feeling of remorse. She’d let this man get into her head, and had hurt someone who didn’t seem to deserve it. What the hell was going on here?
Stanley snorted. “You’re all a bunch of filthy whores. Hit the showers.”
***
Jessica had fully expected further patronizing and humiliation in the shower, but the captors had allowed the prisoners at least some dignity. Instead of the male guards inside the bathroom, gawking over the slave women while they bathed, four female guards had been assigned to the locker room. Each guard stood armed with an assault rifle, and none of the quartet seemed to have any remorse for the beaten women.
Her palms against the shower wall, Jessica stared down at the drain as a sea of red passed under her feet. The showers were open, each woman standing mere feet from each other, and the blood flowed off the other women’s bodies, creating a river that disappeared into the pipes underneath them. Jessica couldn’t bring herself to look up, into the faces of these other women. She so desperately wanted to ask them why they were here, but they’d been forbidden to speak to one another. Talking once would constitute a warning; talking twice would lead to corporal punishment. Jessica abided, assuming she’d understand in time why she was in this prison.
The guards informed the women when their shower was over, and Jessica pulled the lever over to shut off her showerhead. When she turned around, a towel hit her in the face. She caught it before it fell, and when she pulled the towel away, Bruce stood in front of her with that same perverted smirk on his face. His eyes did not look into hers, instead looking up and down her naked body. Jessica quickly covered herself, and Bruce’s eyes moved up to meet hers. He chuckled.
“That’s all right. I got me enough of a look to think about you later.” He wrapped his tongue around his lips and Jessica looked away.
One of the guards rolled a cart toward the women, fresh sets of coveralls sat stacked on top of it.
“Get dressed and we’ll file out,” one of the guards said.
Jessica picked one of the garments up and the guard grabbed onto her wrist.
“You’re number 41,” the guard said. She picked up the coveralls with the number 41 on them and handed them to Jessica.
The coveralls included a set of undergarments. The faded sports bra fit snug on Jessica, pinching slightly into her back. The panties sat baggy on her hips. She put the coveralls on next, all while ignoring the creep’s eyes that she knew were surely looking her up and down. To help block him out, she closed her eyes and tried to think of the mornings before school which she’d used to spend down by the pond near her house. While thinking of this, she wondered if she’d ever see such a thing again. Would she ever even set foot outside again?
“All right, ladies, let’s move out,” one of the female guards said. Two of the guards led the women out, while the other two followed behind the women.
“See you later.”
The voice was that of Bruce, and Jessica pinched her eyes shut and refused to turn around.
When they reentered the gymnasium, Lance and Derek—the two guards who’d brought Jessica and Claire from their room—stood with their arms crossed.