“What’s your point?”
He smiles, as though he was waiting for me to ask that. “My point is you guys obviously have something in mind. Somehow you don’t seem like the kind of chick to sit and take shit lying down.” I glare at him, but he continues. “I’m just saying, you don’t need to tell them your plan, just tell them that there is one. They’re a fucking mob, a bunch of degenerates. Tell them you have a plan, rile them up against the fucking pigs outside, and you’ll buy yourself enough time to do whatever the hell it is you are doing.”
Honestly, it’s pretty much what I had in mind anyway, except for telling them I had a plan. I need the inmates to be on my side.
But I’m new here and a woman. And they are going to get thirsty, very quickly.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask him finally.
This time, he’s the one who hesitates. After a moment, he gestures down to the Nazi tattoos covering his arms.
“People look at me and assume this is who I am,” he starts, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “No one trusts me with shit, the only people who listen to me are the fucking useless skinheads. When I got in here, a lot of shit became clear about the stuff I’d been fed my whole life.”
His face looks like he tasted something sour before he stops and looks into my eyes. It’s unnerving. It doesn’t feel even remotely sexual, but it does feel way too raw, too real.
“You came in here and by all fucking rights, you should not have lasted a night. Despite this short hair and fighting and shit,” he gestures his hands at me, “but people underestimated you, assume shit about you, and now you’re here.”
I’m not sure what part of that statement was a compliment versus an insult, so I say nothing and deliver my best resting bitch face.
“Point being?” I ask again, raising my eyebrows in exasperation.
He sighs. “My point is that there’s more to you than meets the eye, and I’m sure you’re used to having to prove yourself to people. I get that.” He pauses a moment. “I get what you were doing by putting me on Pit Fights. It was a good idea. I guess I respect you enough to want to give you the benefit of the doubt. From one underestimated individual to another.”
I’ve never heard so many words come out of his mouth before, and I have to stop my own mouth from hanging open. I guess it’s true what they say about books and covers.
“I was planning on saying something else before or after the Pit Fight,” I say, posing it somewhere between a statement and a question. I hadn’t decided which would be more effective, with the anticipation of bloodshed in the air or the aftereffects. If John means what he is saying, then he’s probably got some great intel on this place.
While Ax of course runs it, he doesn’t really fraternize a lot. Ax even told me that he usually spent a few days a week hanging out on the platform during the week. Just being present, really, available to the inmates. Other than that, he’d always been a bit of a loner from what I can tell. Even though he’s been here longer, John could know as much or more about the problems I’m about to face.
“Do it after,” he says firmly after thinking about it for a moment. “There’s a sort of euphoria after a fight that lingers. They’ll already be riled up.”
I nod and turn back to Brutus whose current picking his nose by the pillar I left him at. I grimace and let off a short whistle. He immediately straightens up, wiping his finger on his shirt. I shudder. Behind me, John imparts one last bit of wisdom.
“And Ana?”
I stop but don’t turn.
“Let yourself be vulnerable to them. Implore their help against the common enemy, but seeing you are a person, a woman, will help.”
I keep walking and don’t reply but consider his words. I’ve tried so hard all this time to set myself apart from my gender, to be strong enough to lead men, but I get what John is saying. This may be a time being a woman in The Tomb will help. If I was a man, and the guards made these threats, they would have tossed me on my ass already.
Time to own this shit.
And fill a lot of water buckets.
Fifteen
Axle
We make our way out of the lower levels carefully, not wanting to attract anyone’s attention to us being down below. In the distance, I hear familiar shouts and realize the Pit Battle must be right now.
Perfect, no one will be looking this way.
When we finally step out even the dim natural lighting of the yard is blinding. Blinking a few times, I look over and notice the electricity is still working, for now. My eyes immediately scour the yard until they land on Ana, who’s on the platform looking down on everyone. I’m surprised to see John standing near her and immediately I feel a rise of anger and jealousy building in me. Ethan steps out beside me and nods before making his way around the outer level. We already made plans to meet in a few hours.
As I step out into the yard an inmate to my right turns to me, wrinkling his nose in disgust before stepping away. Frowning, I look down at myself. Considering most of these guys don’t even bathe, I must smell pretty bad from those sewers. Oh well.
The violent shouts increase as I make my way through the crowd, parting it easily with the cloying stench surrounding me. I smirk to myself and ignore them. I’m used to people avoiding me but usually it’s because they’re afraid of me and not because I stink. Making my way to a raised pillar, I jump up to get a better vantage.