“Strip,” one of the guards says.
I’m already shirtless, so I take off my dirty boots and socks, then my pants and underwear. I’ve been wearing the sameclothes since the day of the ball, and I hope somebody burns them after all of the sweat, blood, and dirt they have endured.
“Stand against the wall and face us.”
They grab a pipe and exchange a smirk before a torrent of freezing water hits my torso. I plant my legs firmly in the ground so I won’t slam against the wall. The water is freezing, making me grind my teeth and hold my breath.
“Wash your pits and your balls!”
I can barely hear them above the torrent, but I do as they say, telling myself that getting clean is more important than wounded pride.
“Turn around and wash your crack!”
I mutter a curse as I turn and wash between my butt cheeks, using the opportunity to empty my bladder on the ground.
They finally stop the torrent and throw a towel at me. A pile of clothes is waiting on a nearby table. I dry myself quickly and hurry to get dressed, noticing crusty stains on the fabric that are likely from dried blood.
Another guard comes in with a plate of food and a jar of water. I sit down and stuff everything I can into my stomach, not minding how bad the food tastes.
“How long have you been a Defender?” one of the guards asks.
“A while.”
“You’re giving me attitude?”
I am, which is dumb. “Sorry. Ten years.”
He whistles. “Talk about commitment. You must’ve killed a ton of our disposables out there.”
I swallow the food in my mouth. “Disposables?”
“The small gangs that live in the wild. Meat for the grind.”
“Aren’t you all fighting out there?”
“Why the hell for?”
I take another bite, wondering if the most trained Raiders are the ones I’ve been fighting against for years or the ones who remain in Denver. I assumed every Raider was out there fighting, with occasional stops to Denver for supplies, but it seems I was mistaken.
“Where does he sleep?” one of the guards asks.
“We’ll keep him here tonight and tie him down in one of the stalls. Let Master Trainer decide tomorrow which group to put him in.”
I welcome the idea of sleeping by myself after the hellish days with Jay’s gang. I wonder if he’s already fucking fat Linda from behind. He better make it a fuck to remember, because I’ll be coming for him as soon as I can. We have a debt to settle.
I finish eating and follow the guards into an empty stall with a thin mattress. They shackle one of my hands to the wall, as well as my ankles. I’ll be able to lie on my back, though with a limited ability to shift my body. But sleep is sleep, and I can barely keep my eyes open.
As I lie on the mattress, the three guards tower over me, their faces shadowy in the dim stall. One puts his dirty boot on my chest. “We don’t give a fuck about what you did before you got here. From now on, you belong to House Powell. Make us look bad in or out of the arena, and we’ll leave you hanging by a streetlight for the crows.”
After seeing bodies hanging earlier, I have no doubt about the sincerity of their threat. I can’t help but wonder if Hector will allow that, but I clearly don’t know shit about his plans.
They finally leave and turn off the lights. Alone in the dark, I let out a long breath until my lungs are empty of air. I try to make sense of what happened, but I can’t. I’m a pawn in a game whose rules I don’t understand. If Finn were here with me, he would have done a better job figuring things out, but the last thing I wish is for him to be at the hands of the Raiders again.
With my mind still heavy with thoughts, sleep finally claims me.
*
“Get up, maggot!”
