Suddenly Bam-Bam was freeing Nix from the main chain and fastening what looked like a ten- or twelve-foot lead to the slave’s rag-padded collar. That was when Capelli realized that Inkskin’s sword-swallowing routine was over—and Master Jack was about to announce the main act as Nix was led out into the makeshift arena.
“Laaadies and gentlemen… Children of all ages… Please welcome the brave warrior who, armed with nothing more than a knife, is about to face the fearsome El Diablo in a full-bore, no-holds-barred, battle to the death. If our warrior wins, he will be freed. And should El Diablo win, he will be fed!”
The whole thing was so barbaric, Capelli expected some of the townspeople to object, if not put a stop to the one-sided battle. And a year or two earlier they probably would have. But many of those who had survived the invasion were inured to violence, had been forced to kill many times themselves, and had come to regard strangers with suspicion. And Nix was a stranger. So rather than demand that the slave be released, they applauded instead. And Capelli was shocked to see a scattering of children in the crowd.
El Diablo screeched in pain as Bam-Bam and Inkskin used pole-mounted cattle prods to force the Hybrid out of its cage, down a ramp, and into the arena. The Chimera had been fitted with a neck collar similar to Capelli’s.
The slaves came to their feet as Leena made her way out to where Nix stood, took one of his arms, and raised it above his head. The audience had grown to at least sixty people. Capelli was reminded of the stories he’d heard about Rome’s Colosseum as the crowds cheered the man who was about to die.
Then the yelling stopped, and there was a mutual inhalation of breath, as Leena took hold of the chain that was coiled near the center post and began to drag it out to El Diablo. And as she came within reach of the beast’s arms, the crowd waited for the Chimera to kill her. But it didn’t. Why?
The answer could be seen standing in the shadow next to the circus wagon. Alfonso was aiming Capelli’s Marksman at El Diablo. A safety precaution? Yes, Capelli thought so, as the chain was secured to the beast’s collar. Then Leena turned her back on the Steelhead and walked away. The act of bravado earned a burst of applause.
By then both Nix and El Diablo were chained to the center post so neither one of them could run. Capelli didn’t know Nix. Not really. But he felt sorry for him as the other slave was given a large, single-edged knife. Nix tested the edge with a thumb as he turned to face the Chimera.
But in spite of the sympathy he felt, Capelli was a survivor. So as El Diablo screeched and shambled towards Nix, he was determined to learn whatever he could from the impending slaughter.
Nix reacted the way most people would—he backed away from the Chimera. But that meant his chain was gradually wrapping itself around the thick center post. And as it became shorter, the distance between the combatants grew shorter as well. Capelli could see that eventually Nix would be forced to go one-on-one with El Diablo. At that point he would slash the Chimera a few times, and having survived dozens of such battles in the past, the Steelhead would charge the human. The end would come quickly.
Capelli wanted to shout a warning, to give Nix some advice, but knew the other slave wouldn’t be able to hear him over the crowd noise. But then, just when it appeared that the deadly dance was about to come to its inevitable conclusion, Nix did something entirely unexpected.
Nix did not keep backing away. Instead, he put the blade between his teeth, and turned towards the vertical center post. Then, with the agility of a monkey, he swarmed up it. The weight of the chain slowed Nix down, but failed to stop him, as he pulled himself up onto the flat surface above. Then, having taken control of his chain, Nix passed it over his head three times. That gave him some additional slack and a momentary advantage. The crowd reacted with a cheer.
El Diablo roared its anger, but was plenty tall enough to snatch Nix off his roost, so the human’s situation had only marginally improved. The Hybrid was shuffling forward, clearly intent on sweeping Nix off his perch, when the human launched himself into the air. Nix had extended the knife point down. He was a real threat if he could manage to drive the blade into the Steelhead’s neck.
And the plan might have worked except that as Nix landed on the Chimera, the tip of his knife hit El Diablo’s iron collar and skidded off. That was the only break the monster needed. It wrapped Nix in a stinking embrace and proceeded to crush the life out of him. Bones crackled like broken twigs, a horrible farting noise was heard, and the battle was over.
Capelli, who had been hopeful up until the last moment, uttered a groan of disappointment. It was echoed by the men around him. And it seemed as if the crowd felt the same way, because as the Hybrid began to feed, most of the people booed and got up to leave.
“Nix had balls,” Bar said admiringly, as the spectators began to file out.
“Yeah,” Capelli agreed. And sadly enough, that was the only memoriam Nix was likely to receive.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HOLE CARD
Susan Farley awoke hundreds of feet up in the air. As the first rays of sunshine slanted down to splash Level 12 of Defense Column Five with golden light, Susan resolved to enjoy the cozy warmth of her sleeping bag a little bit longer.
And why not? The central elevator that served DC-5 back before the top fifty feet of the tower had been blown off was no longer operational. The only way to access her lofty perch was a series of flights of switchbacking stairs. And, thanks to the booby trap she had left down on Level 10, no one could sneak up on her using the stairs. Not without setting off a Chimeran hedgehog grenade.
Drones were a danger of course, but having done nothing that would attract them, Susan had been free to enjoy her first good night’s sleep in many days. A couple of weeks had passed since she’d killed Warden Brewster and his bodyguards. After arming herself with weapons stolen from Brewster’s quarters, and exiting the mine via the emergency bolt hole the warden had provided for himself, Susan found herself partway up a mountainside.
From there she scrambled down a scree-covered hill to a trail that took her halfway around the mountain. After a short hike to a logging road, she’d come to a paved highway. She had to decide which way to go. And that was a tough decision. Because, with the possible exception of her adopted brother, Susan’s entire family was dead. And, since Nathan had chosen to work for a corrupt government, he was as good as dead insofar as she was concerned.
So with no family to seek out, Susan resolved to hook up with Freedom First, the underground resistance group that opposed the Grace administration and the stinks. Their base in Montana had been destroyed. Susan had heard that much before she and her fellow prisoners were transferred to the mine. But the organization had other cells, one of which was in Concordia, Kansas.
It wasn’t much to go on, but with no better destination in mind, Susan began what she knew would be a long walk. She had weapons, including a single-action Colt .45, an Army-issue Fareye rifle, and a lightweight Reaper carbine. All liberated from Brewster’s private quarters. She kept the Reaper handy day and night because of its capacity to provide a heavy volume of fire. Something neither one of her other weapons was capable of.
Susan also had a good knife, plus the green Hudson’s Bay blanket from Brewster’s quarters that now served as a poncho. But what she lacked was a pack, camping gear, and boots to replace the ones on her feet. Both of which had holes.
So as Susan made her way down out of the mountains, she’d been on the lookout for an opportunity to buy what she needed. And thanks to the silver dollars taken from Brewster’s desk, she had the means. There must have been a stash of gold somewhere as well. The Buckle was a gold mine, after all. But rather than take the time to look for it, and be forced to deal with the guards, Susan figured the silver would be enough to get started. If not, she could sell the Colt.