Page 109 of Us Dark Few

Her heart beat furiously as Takeshi made his way onto the wooden platform and handed the Warden a large sheet of paper. The Warden nodded to him, and Takeshi stepped down, taking his place beside the guards.

His face was iron smooth—zero emotion emitting from him—and his incredibly hard gaze stared straight ahead.

“The following prisoners will serve at the Genesis Ball.”

The Warden began reading the list Takeshi handed him, yelling number after number. The austere moment felt like a graduation ceremony, except there were no diplomas or congratulations, and guns were pointed at the crowd.

The Warden’s loud voice permeated the air, but her focus was solely on Takeshi.

She hadn’t realized how much he meant to her until the dreaded voices in her mind spoke of his permanent demise.

It would’ve been her fault. Death creeping outside her door, waiting to expunge the ones she cared for the most

And the speed at which Takeshi went from being nothing to consuming everything terrified her.

Khalani flinched when the Warden yelled her number.

The clenching sensation in her stomach didn’t cease until Adan, Serene, and Derek’s numbers were called. They were fortunate. The dangerous plan to contact Hermes was still feasible, reachable.

This day may turn out okay.

The Warden slowly folded the sheet, seemingly done. “If I haven’t called your number, stand on the platform, and you’ll be given your new assignment.”

Prisoners around her grumbled but gradually shuffled forward. Fewer than half of the prisoners remained still while the rest—close to 200 people—made their way onto the wooden stage, faces marked with confusion and wariness.

The Warden hopped down, and the prisoners on the stage stood shoulder to shoulder, dirty and emaciated. Khalani couldn’t help but notice that most of the men and women who remained on the groundwere the strongest and youngest of the prisoners.

“Wonderful,” the Warden exclaimed, pulling another piece of paper from his pocket. “I shall read you this from the Great Governor Huxley.”

He cleared his throat. “To my Braderhelm constituents, while it is unfortunate that you all have committed various crimes for which you should be ashamed, we acknowledge the hard work put into making up for those atrocious deeds. Apollo is a parent to us all, and we must maintain that precious balance of life.

“In light of recent developments that have shifted resources, difficult decisions have been made to help preserve that balance, but we are proud to know that Braderhelm has volunteers ready to sacrifice for the greater good. Indeed, you shall be commended, and people will speak of your heroic deeds for years to come.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and she glanced at Takeshi, who whipped his harsh gaze to the Warden, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

The atmosphere was tense and still as the Warden nodded to the ten guards directly in front of the platform. In unison, they raised their rifles to the stage. The prisoner’s eyes widened, mouths open in horror, hands up in surrender. But it was too late.

As one, the guards pulled their triggers, and gunfire rang through the pit like an explosion.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Bullet after meteoric bullet.

Screams ricocheted faster than ammunition. Bodies dropped, one on top of another, like the rain she used to dream of as a kid. In a crimson wave, each prisoner on stage collapsed to the floor, bodies twitching, howls of agony rang in symphony until the next crash of bullets killed those cries.

Khalani’s mouth hung agape. Her whole body trembled like an earthquake.

She couldn’t speak.

Think.

Wails of horror emanated from the prisoners who remained standing, rough hands covering their ears to block the horrible sounds. People collapsed to their knees, shaking their heads in denial, unable to look at the bodies.

A few surviving prisoners fiendishly jumped off the stage, screaming in terror as they attempted to escape the bloodshed, but they were brutally shot down, falling face-first to the ground.

The flash of gunfire finally stopped when there was no movement on the platform. Mountains of dead prisoners, men and women, lay over one another, their eyes still open in panic and terror. Blood pooled across the wooden stage like a crimson blanket, dripping over the edge.

“What the hell is going on?!” Brock yelled from a couple prisoners beside her, and stepped forward as if to jump on the stage.

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