I come to a barrier and grasp the side, using my legs to push me over. Glass crunches beneath my feet when I land on the other side. Strips of rubber, from what used to be tires, lie in the street. Out of habit, I look both ways, but there are no cars. It’s as if I’m looking down a black hole. I heft myself up over the next barrier and make for the darkness and safety of the buildings.
Once I get to the alleyway between my old building and the next, I’m enveloped by the shadows. The only things I hear are my steady breaths and the dull sound of clumping feet on cement. As I catch up to Grace, she stops dead in front of me. I almost trip before skidding to a halt, my hands grazing her taut back. She wavers just slightly forward on her toes. I place my hand on her shoulder, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. I step around her. Her jaw drops open, and she stares straight ahead.
“Grace, what’s wron—”
She points in front of her.
I step back slightly, eyes wide with shock. The stench of stagnant blood, bodily waste, and decomposing bodies hits me like lightning. I bury my face in my elbow and try to block it. Without a doubt, it’s a smell I can never get accustomed to. The shrouded shantytown is three times larger than I remember. I used to be able to see where the huts stopped, but now it’s endless. Glancing to my left, I notice Cole taking it all in as well. His lips are slightly parted, and his eyes gleam with some unspeakable emotion. I swallow hard.
“What’s happened?” I ask Cole.
“We’ll find out,” he says in a low voice. His jaw twitches, and he doesn’t meet my eyes.
Torn fabric covers tin and crudely constructed huts that seem to run into one another. By the looks of it, they might even be holding each other up. An endless expanse of gray, tan, brown, and crimson cloaked with poverty greets us. The narrow pathways are covered in dirt and filled with glass, garbage, bodily fluids, and some with words of discouragement written in blood. Sinners walk around with visible injuries. Some have ragged clothing and some only wear underwear. Their hair’s greasy, and a thick layer of filth covers them. One looks toward me, her eyes empty and almost lifeless. She holds her arms against herself, scratching at already bloody sores. Blood slips down her arms like dark red streams of paint.
Oh my God, my cell was a hotel compared to this. At least I was fed. Guilt overtakes me. Even when I saw the center of the Hole before, it never seemed this expansive. There were never this many starving people wandering around aimlessly. My throat closes up as I struggle for words. I walk to Cole and reach for his arm. I cannot speak. Instead, I pray silently to wake up from this nightmare.
Dead bodies are piled on top of each other in a pit to the right of us. I watch as a man tosses the next body toward the pile. When the corpse lands, bones clank together, breaking and tearing through skin. The body’s nothing more than a skeleton. Most of the dead are all the same, severely malnourished and stiff, thrown away like garbage.
Life is precious, but in the Hole … it’s a curse.
Two women stand together at the edge of the pit, their hands clasped together. They’re crying, and I want to cry for them. Cole shivers next to me, but I don’t think he’s cold. He remains silent, and even when I grab his hand, he doesn’t look at me.
Others moan, cry, and some scream, their cries piercing my ears, making me unsure of whether I want to drop to my knees or pick up a gun. My entire body heats with fury. Wilson just lit another flame under me. He must pay for this. One way or another, he’s going to pay.
“Take a deep breath, guys. Breathe through your mouth, and wipe the shock off your faces,” Bruno says from out of nowhere. “Remember, we need to blend.”
Like that’s possible. We’re probably the healthiest people in here.
We move deeper into the rows of shacks. Sinners lie on the floor, some asleep and some rocking back and forth with nothing but blank stares. It’s almost like they’re in a trance or something. Many have scars across their faces and on their arms; they look so diseased. We swat flies away from our faces as we continue to move slowly and deeper into the Hole.
“No please; it’s all I got,” a woman’s voice calls from over my shoulder. Cole and I turn around.
A man shoves a frail and sickly woman to the ground and kicks her in the stomach. The woman lets out a groan, and before she falls, the man grabs her bag then takes off running.
“Zeus, attack,” Cole says, his fists clenched at his sides.
Zeus charges, catching the man in seconds. As Zeus pounces on the thief’s back with his front legs, the man plummets to the ground, and Zeus ferociously rips apart his clothes.
“I’ll check on the lady,” I tell Cole.
Cole takes off running toward the man, and I sprint to the girl who’s curled up into a ball. Dropping to my knees, I place my hand on her back. She recoils from my touch.