Cole jerks to a stop as another woman, slight of build, stalks down the first and punches her. A feral look covers her face as she bares her teeth and narrows her eyes. She lands a thundering punch, and the first woman goes down to the ground. The second one plucks the bread from her hand and shoves it into her ravenous mouth. Only then does she see us.
I freeze. She squints. Then she scampers back into the dark entrance of the house. I feel queasy. Moving around in the darkness will only get us so far. Pretty soon all of us, including Zeus, will be easy to identify.
Cole maneuvers through alleys and over trash, inside a concrete jungle of gutted houses and crumbling buildings.
The pungent smell of feces mixed with tepid water, sweat, and the burning stench of old blood seems to penetrate us everywhere we turn. I wrinkle my nose. No matter how many times I inhale it, it never seems natural.
It’s taking longer to get back to the underground, and for a moment, I think we’re lost. The timid light of the sun is creeping up toward the horizon when I tap Cole on the shoulder. He looks behind him and holds up his fist. Zeus’s lips curl up, and he stands rigid. I freeze in place.
“Turn around,” Cole says.
“What?” I ask.
He shoves me back behind him, but in my confusion, I stumble to the side. His hand catches me, and he looks me directly in the eyes. His voice comes out in a desperate, pleading whisper.
“You don’t want to see this.”
I wrinkle my forehead and push his hand off my shoulder.
Zeus’s ears stand straight up, and his hair raises as he lets out a low growl. Something’s not right. I glance around Cole.
The crude wooden stage’s stark outline settles against the pink of the morning light, taking my breath away. I blink back the memory of Claire and Mac, executed for loving each other just a few months ago. This is the exact place where I witnessed their murder at Wilson’s hands. Cole tried to protect me even then.
Now, the faces of the people gathering around the stage wear tightly pressed lips and fearful eyes. I can’t stop myself from clenching my fists in anticipation. Outside of the staging area, even more Sinners congregate, and guards stand at the edges, patrolling with their weapons raised. As much as I want to run the other way, I’m more curious. I take a step toward them, but Cole’s hand catches my elbow.
“No,” he says. I yank myself away from him. “We’re not chancing it.”
“I have to see what’s going on,” I say.
I push my hair around my neck and face, and slowly edge toward the crowd. Cole grunts behind me, but I can’t stop myself from moving toward the large group of people. If something’s happening, I want to know what it is.
I can’t tell exactly how many people have shown up, maybe a hundred or more, but I find an opening at the rim and work my way in. No one seems to notice since their eyes are all glued to the stage. Their whispers carry though, and I can’t ignore them.
“First execution since … ” a voice dies off.
“When they brought Keegan’s body here, that was the last time he showed up in person,” another voice says. I watch as the person leans over to her neighbor. “And they stripped him of his clothes; it was a sad sight.”
“I hear he was bloated as a balloon by the time they … ”
“Wonder who they’re bringin’ in this time. Must be somebody important.”
Bile burns its way up my throat, but I force it back down with a hard swallow. I attempt shuffling to the right. I don’t want to hear anymore. But the words ring painful, dangling in my ears despite it. My heart feels like someone’s ripped a hole through it.
Suddenly, an SUV pulls up in a cloud of dust. The brakes squeal to a halt. Every guard around the perimeter stands ramrod straight and salutes. Usually, a musical anthem would play, but not this time.
I press my lips together and feel my muscles stiffen. The crowd goes silent. The people seem to cower in place, lowering their eyes. It’s hard to swallow the lump in my throat when I hear the loudspeaker on the SUV turn on.
With a bang and a groan, the driver jumps out and opens the back door. A shorter man steps out, his face turned down and his posture rigid, while the driver drags a crumpled figure out of the backseat.
My heart stops.
A hand rests on my shoulder, but I cut my eyes toward the vehicle, noting the familiar gaits, the heights and temperaments of the people exiting. My hands feel clammy. I turn back to see who’s touching me and find Cole off my right shoulder. He grits his teeth and stands completely stiff.
The shorter man climbs up onto the stage first. The sun rises behind him, forcing me to squint. I’ve been up for days, and the rims of my eyes burn like acid. The Sinners seem to inhale one collective breath as the crumpled figure is pulled across the stage and forced to kneel.
He looks up, and his green eyes catch the light. His gray hair is all but replaced by tufts of white. His hands are tied behind him. The bloodstained lab coat he wears hangs off his fragile figure, and his pants look five sizes too big.
Suddenly, I want to scream.