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

Not now.
    With all eyes riveted upon them, Wilson arches his back and swings a machete down
     to the table with all his might, attempting to slice off the man’s right wrist . A terrible, bloodcurdling scream escapes the man’s throat and splits the air. Thinking
     it’s over, I cover my mouth to keep from screaming, but then he swings again and again,
     chopping roughly through the wrist bones. Vomit rises in my throat when I see the
     blood spurt from where his hand once was. Splinters of bone, broken and uneven, lie
     limp on the table. A collective groan flows swiftly through the crowd like a wave.
    The guards lift up the man, who’s almost unconscious, and place him face-to-face with
     his lover. She cries and pulls him to her.
    “I love him,” she wails.
    Don’t they have any remorse? Any at all? I begin feeling woozy and sway slightly to
     the right, but Cole’s arm steadies me for an instant. And then it’s gone.
    Mac looks at Wilson, who now stands at the woman’s side with a red-hot iron as large
     as a bat. A sanguinary light forms in Wilson’s eyes and froth bubbles at the creases
     of his mouth like a hungry beast waiting for the final slaughter. Then Wilson torches
     her skin with the heavy iron as another guard restrains Mac.
    “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She shrieks in agonizing pain. The sizzle of her skin and smell
     of the burning flesh reaches even me. Her head flips back, the tendons tight, as her
     mouth opens to scream again.
    The sound of her shrill vocals snaps Mac from his bloodied stupor, and the next part
     happens so fast I barely catch the blur of movement. Mac breaks free and uses his
     remaining hand to pull a dagger from his boot. He lunges forward and throws it straight
     into her heart with a sickening thump. Instantly, her chin flops to her chest.
    “Oh my God!” escapes from my mouth.
    Wilson shakes his head, aims his pistol, and blows Mac away. Bits of brain and blood
     spatter those closest to the stage and they frantically try to brush it off. I bend
     over and heave at the sickening sight.
    “What a pity,” Wilson says. “I wanted to torture him a tad longer.”
    The people around us stand with grim faces. I feel their hatred, anger, and despair.
     The message is clear—the guards still own the Hole and no one, not even their own,
     is free from their judgment.
    I look at Cole, but he shakes his head as if saying don’t speak . I wonder if he knew the guard who was executed, but there’s no chance to ask him
     as he pulls me along while shoving through the crowd, dispersing with heavy feet.
     I feel hopeless.
    Cole leads me around the back of the hospital and past the stares of several groups
     of distraught guards. The eyes I want to avoid most are Wilson’s, but he glares right
     at me. His uniform is slick with the blood of his victims—a picture of Satan himself.
    “ID card and access code,” the guard says at the post. Cole hands over his ID.
    “Access code 0406.”
    “I need to see hers as well.” The guard motions to me.
    After checking the paperwork, he turns, eyes me with a hungry smile, and winks. “You
     may proceed.”
    I wonder what the paper says, but there’ll be time to ask later.
    We enter a garage filled with tanks and other military vehicles. No graffiti lines
     the walls, no broken glass littering the cement floor. It’s the cleanest place in
     the Hole. The incandescent lights of the training center brighten the garage, making
     it seem almost livable in comparison to everywhere else. Halfway in, I stop to throw
     up between two parked vehicles. I can’t purge my mind of the images of the executions,
     and my stomach won’t settle.
    “Pull it together. We don’t have time for this.”
    “I’m trying,” I say, trying to catch my breath. But then I heave again, making a loud,
     retching noise.
    Ugh, stop bringing attention to yourself.
    “Is that it? Geez.”
    “You could try being sensitive, you know.” I stand and wipe my face with