Backs Against the Wall (Survival Series) by Ward Tracey

Author:Ward, Tracey [Ward, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-02-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Ryan is led away by two of the guards, ushered out flanked on each side by them as though he were a flight risk. I watch him go, my stomach dropping out, my heart pinching in my chest. He doesn’t look back and I haven’t decided yet if that makes it better or worse.

Trent and I are given the rundown with the maps. We’re instructed on where exactly the Vashon’s island is and the best way to get there. Apparently everyone and their mother knows where this thing is but no one attacks it. No one bothers them. That’s very telling right there. Like this aquarium and the stadiums. Who are these people? What are we getting ourselves into by going to them? By going somewhere The Hive doesn’t dare to go.

I let Trent examine the maps, his crazy eyes absorbing every detail and committing it all to memory. I’m too distracted to deal with it. I keep thinking about Ryan, about where they’ve taken him, about what exactly this Blind business is. I really hope it’s not what it sounds like.

Finally, Trent and I are released. That’s it, just shoved out the door. Thanks for stopping by, get the hell out. They tell us the boat will be waiting at the end of the pier and we’re welcome to take it at any time. I’m relieved when Trent leads me through the entryway toward the shoe filled fish tank. I was worried he’d take me out of here, that Ryan told him not to let me see him fight. It would have killed me and I would have fought him tooth and nail to stay. No part of me believes that I could win in a fight with Trent, though. Even if I was fully healed and armed, he’d lay me on my ass.

He silently takes me back behind the tank, down another long, dark hallway, down a cramped flight of stairs lit with emergency red lights and straight into the freak show.

The Arena is my worst nightmares made real.

It’s a large dark room full of makeshift risers that creak and groan as people walk on them. They form a circle around a dome in the middle made of concrete with squares punched out to see inside. And what’s inside is what’s horrifying. Risen. Several Risen tethered to benches around the outside rim of the dome.

“It used to be a huge fish tank,” Trent tells me. He has to pull me gently along because my feet have frozen to the floor. I do not want to enter this room. “The part we’re in, the outside, is actually the tank. There used to be glass in those squares between the concrete so people inside the dome could look out at the fish.”

“Now we’re doing the opposite,” I mutter, staring at the Risen that shuffle and groan down on the main floor.

“No,” Trent says darkly. “Now we’re just fools dancing with Death, begging to die.”

I look up at him in surprise.

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