Free Sinners 01 - Branded by Abi Ketner, Missy Kalicicki Page A

those who violate
     our laws would be quite beneficial.”
    Of course there are laws when their safety’s at risk. Freaking hypocrites.
    As he speaks, guards parade four men up the stairs with pistols pressed to the back
     of their skulls. Their faces remain shrouded underneath blindfolds and their hands
     are tied securely behind them. Wilson commands them to kneel, so they do in a row
     across the platform. Even though the stage sits approximately fifty feet away, I see
     their bodies quivering.
    Then it dawns on me… Holy crap, it’s an execution.
    “By order of the great Commander, you are all charged with the possession of unauthorized
     weapons. The penalty is death.” Wilson pauses for effect as an evil smile splits his
     pale face. The silence disconcerts me. Never have I heard the Hole so deliberately
     quiet.
    Wilson stands in front of the accused and yanks off each blindfold, one after the
     other, tossing them off to the side of the platform. Starting from the right, he takes
     aim, pointing the barrel of his pistol at the first man’s forehead. Without hesitation,
     he pulls the trigger, sending a bullet right between his eyes. Then he fires three
     more shots and finishes the others.
    I gasp with each blast.
    “Don’t watch,” Cole says.
    But no matter how hard I try, I can’t rip my eyes away. Wilson forces the spectators
     in the front row to carry the bodies off the stage. They struggle under the dead weight,
     so minutes pass before they pile the bodies in a heap. Their blood leaves a sickly,
     foul trail behind.
    I feel a small raindrop hit my forehead and roll down my face, but I’m too afraid
     to wipe it away. It’s as if someone hit a pause button, and Cole and I stand frozen
     in place.
    Once the stage is cleared, Wilson announces with disgust, “The next punishment is
     reserved for the worst offenders.”
    “There’s more?” I ask in a whisper. I know Cole stands next to me by the familiar
     sounds of his breathing, but he doesn’t reply.
    A young woman with long, golden hair and fair skin is shoved onto the stage.
    “She’s a model,” the same lady says behind me. “I guess being beautiful isn’t always
     a good thing.”
    Bruises mar the woman’s neck on stage, making her purple brand barely distinguishable,
     and her right eye bulges, dark blue and swollen almost shut. She possesses no blindfold
     and wears only her torn underclothes, stained red and clinging to her body. Her eyes
     stay glued to the floor, but her terror is evident even from where I stand.
    Then to my surprise, two guards drag another guard in full uniform up the stairs,
     casting him next to the woman. He reaches over, taking her face between his hands.
     Tears track down his cheeks as he stares only at her. His lips move, but I can’t hear
     what he says. She nods her head and he kisses her.
    “Guard Mac!” Wilson shouts. “Evidence has been set before us that proves you have
     been consorting with this sinner—this disgusting, worthless, prideful leach.” He pauses
     for effect. “The penalty awarded those who proclaim to love the branded is”—he licks
     his lips—“death!” he screams and points at her with his thick, sausage-like finger.
     “And you, my friend, will watch her die.” The kneeling guard cries out, but a sharp
     blow lands upon his head, silencing him. “But first, you need to learn to keep your
     hands off these filthy sinners.”
    Wilson motions for others to come. They carry a small wooden table to the platform,
     set it down, and proceed to secure the concussed guard’s right hand to the table with
     solemn faces. The once guard—now prisoner—struggles against the restraints.
    “Stop! You’re the lowest of the low. You bring shame to the guards,” Wilson says.
     The pitch of his voice rises to a squeak and his eyes focus on Mac with unwavering
     intensity as a crude smile makes its way across his face. In another life, I might’ve
     laughed at him but not here.