Hell Week by JT Sawyer (Seals vs. Zombies Book 1)

Author:JT Sawyer [Sawyer, JT]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

When morning arrived, James felt a sliver of sunlight on his left cheek, as awareness seeped back into his throbbing head. His wrists were sore; he was hanging from shackles and chains attached to a large wooden beam in the vaulted ceiling. The ends of his boots barely provided a toehold on the cement floor. He felt hung over and struggled to keep his eyes open. Before him was a corroded steel door. On either side were metal bars that ran from the floor to the planked rooftop twenty feet up. The ground was littered with beer cans, and blades of grass sprung up through fissures in the concrete. The entire setting smelled like armpits and whiskey.

Outside the barred windows to his left, he could hear the distant clawing and moaning of zombies below, where they were locked in animal exhibits on either side of him. There must have been hundreds of them, judging by the sounds.

The large door creaked inward, and a pear-shaped man in a green silk shirt swaggered in, followed by three armed guards. The stout man stopped a foot away from James and peered at him. He looked to be in his fifties, with a trim black goatee and slicked-back shoulder-length hair. His cheeks were pock-marked and on his right ear were two gold-hoop earrings. Standing a few feet behind him was the largest man James had ever seen. He was around six feet eight inches, with a bald head and a tribal tattoo on his massive bare chest. The man looked Samoan, with huge cheek bones that resembled hockey pucks, and arms like metal girders.

The portly man with the goatee walked up to James. “Do you know who I am?” he said with a slight accent.

James lifted his chin. “Are you that guy who owns all the Pollo Loco restaurants in town?”

The man smiled, looking back at his guards and then at James in disbelief. “A gringo with a sense of humor–I like that. Most of the men who are brought here are so scared, they just beg for mercy and weep endlessly.”

“Mercy can only be granted by those with the heart of a tiger,” said James.

The man circled slowly around James, glancing at the trident tattoo on James’ shoulder. “Ah, so you are a proud American soldier, holding on to a code of honor that you think still has a place in this broken world. A world which the devil has smiled upon.”

“The only devils are the ones who exploit the weak through terror and self-interest. I’ve met your kind before in other places,” James said.

“Even El Diablo fears me, amigo,” the man whispered into James’ ear, then looked him over. “I think you would make a fine addition to my nightly games. You seem fit and spry. I’d say you would last ten minutes in the arena, which is seven more than the rest.”

“Sorry, I’m going to a concert at the Hollywood Bowl with my lady tonight, then we’re gonna hop on my sailboat and head up the coast.

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