Chapter 15
Caden
By the time we reach Denver, I can no longer stand the stench of my own unwashed flesh.
I’m starving and dehydrated, my mouth is gagged, and my hands are bound behind my back, making my shoulders numb.
It’s almost a relief to finally reach our destination.
Dozens of armed guards stand at the gate, wearing dark green uniforms. I spot machine guns and flying drones, though they’re too high for me to see if they’re armed or just for surveillance.
Jay knows most of the people on duty, and they let us through quickly.
When we cross the gate, the streets seem cleaner than I expected, but it’s still the Raiders’ capital, so it doesn’t take me long to spot bodies swinging from streetlights.
“Home sweet home!” Jay calls from the driver’s seat. He’s driving slowly since people constantly cross the street without looking, some obviously wasted. As we drive deeper into the city, I hear a loudspeaker reminding people to book their spots in tomorrow’s games. You won’t want to miss it!
I know I’m being taken to see Hector, and as much as I dread that meeting, I can’t wait to get rid of Jay and the other two assholes. They’ve grown even nastier since we escaped Buck, leaving my body feeling like a giant wound.
When we finally stop, I look around in confusion. The Raider next to me chuckles. “I bet you’re gonna sell fast.”
They pull me out of the buggy, and I try to make sense of what seems like a human auction taking place up ahead, in the middle of a wide piece of land covered in grass.
A sign says the place is called Civic Center Park.
People shout and wave their hands among three separated platforms, though only two have people being bought by the highest bidder.
There’s no way in hell that Hector brought me all this way just to sell me off the minute I arrive. He wants to scare me. I get it. Fear makes anyone obedient, and it’s definitely working now since I’m about to shit myself.
Jay tells his men to keep an eye on me while he goes to speak with someone.
I look to the ground, blocking the sights as much as I can, though I’m powerless against the sounds of people bidding on people.
Some offer weapons and ammo in addition to nova, and one even offers his horse.
Once someone is sold, another one is brought to take their place.
It’s sickening, especially witnessing how well organized this whole thing is.
Jay returns with a fat man who smokes a thick cigar, his face sweaty even though it’s rather cold. He whistles and asks, “Where the hell did you find this one?”
“Special delivery that almost got me killed.” Jay pulls me forward. “This here’s the auctioneer. He runs this show, so you better show respect.”
I try to speak through my gag, because I’m starting to realize this isn’t just about scaring me.
“Let him speak,” the auctioneer says, puffing out smoke from his cigar.
The moment they pull out the gag, I tell Jay, “Hector sent you to get me. Take me to see him.”
The auctioneer gasps. “What the fuck does Hector have to do with this?”
Jay gives me a warning look. “Relax, I’m not doing anything he didn’t tell me to. He was very clear about bringing him here first thing.”
“Why would he do that without seeing me first? You’re not making any damn sense.” I get a punch to my ribs as an answer.
“He’s got a mouth on him,” Jay tells the auctioneer. “My orders were to bring him here and let the highest bidder buy him, as long as it’s for the arena.”
The auctioneer gives me a once-over. “You sure? I can probably get more on him from one of the whorehouses.”
“I’d love to see that, but orders are orders.”
“Well, most of the houses have representatives here today, so it’s gonna be interesting. Nothing like a good bidding war to get the blood pumping.”
“Take me to Hector!”
This time, I fight back when they hit me.
I tackle the Raider to my right, making him fall on his back.
Before they can pull me back, I smash my boot into his face enough times to either kill him or leave him in a coma.
More Raiders come to assist, shoving me to my knees while a crowd gathers.
I know better than to call for help while surrounded by enemies, but the word still itches at the tip of my tongue.
“Get him to his feet,” the auctioneer says. When they do, he grabs the front of my shirt and tears it open so he can pull it off of me. “This can be over quickly if you do what I say. Just walk up to the platform over there and let me do the talking. We should be done in—”
I spit at his face. “Take me to Hector now!”
“Hold the bitch.”
They tighten their grip, and the auctioneer pulls my head sideways by the hair. With his other hand, he brings his cigar to my neck. “Don’t!” I scream a second before I’m hit with scorching pain.
“Now you behave,” the auctioneer hisses. “I can sell you off in a much worse state than this.”
Through the piercing pain and the smell of my own cooked flesh, I think of what I would have said to one of my squad members if they were in this situation. It would have probably been to shut up and play along until they find a chance to strike back and escape.
I swallow what little spit I have left in my mouth and say, “Okay.”
The auctioneer pats my cheek. “Glad we understand each other. Take him away.”
They drag me toward the platform while Jay calls from behind, “By the way, I forgot to mention he’s a Defender! Make sure everyone knows that!”
*
“A Defender!” the auctioneer roars into his megaphone.
Raiders hurry closer, booing and cursing.
Things fly in my direction and some hit until the auctioneer puts a stop to it.
The people in the crowd stand around three lines of chairs where only a few people sit.
They seem different from the rest, elegant and composed.
Their clothes differ in color, seemingly on purpose.
Despite the cold air, I’m sweating heavily, which makes the burn on my neck hurt even more. I hope to be done with this auction as fast as possible, even if it means leaving as somebody’s property. I'll be able to better think and plan away from this madness.
One positive thought manages to shine through—at least Josh isn’t here. I’ve no way of knowing what happened after Buck chased his buggy, but for the sake of my sanity, I choose to believe he’s safe.
I somehow block most of the auctioneer’s words, only catching parts when he promises glorious victories in the arena to whoever bids the highest. Then the bidding starts—a back-and-forth that keeps getting higher.
It starts with seven different parties competing until only two bidders remain: House Fernandez and House Powell.
The jumps between sums get smaller as they reach ridiculous figures, but both bidders seem stubbornly determined to win.
I look around, trying to spot Hector in the crowd of hateful faces.
If he’s going to put a stop to this at the last minute, now’s the fucking time.
“Going once… going twice… sold to House Powell!”
Before I can digest what happened, I’m dragged down from the platform and away from the cheering crowd. We stop close to the street, and I’ve never been dizzier and thirstier in my life.
The auctioneer comes over looking smug and already smoking another cigar. The man who won walks next to him. He seems to be in his mid-forties, his groomed hair and beard graying, and his fancy burgundy suit complements his lean frame.
“Caden the Defender,” he says in a deep voice before standing close enough for me to smash my head into his nose, but the hardness in his blue eyes keeps me frozen in place. He holds my chin and tilts my head from side to side. “How did you get him?”
The auctioneer hesitates, likely not wishing to reveal that Hector had something to do with this. I wonder if I should bring it up, but that might make things even worse.
“He and his squad ambushed us,” Jay says. I didn’t even notice him standing close by. “They took out a few of my men, but we kicked their asses and snatched this one as a trophy.”
“And such a fine trophy he is,” the auctioneer says with a clap of his hands. “Elijah, we can settle the payment tomorrow. I’m sure you’re eager to take your new possession to start his training.”
Elijah gives me a once-over. “He’ll need some water and food first. Is this a burn on his neck?”
“He misbehaved.”
“I see.” He tilts his head at two men in similar-looking burgundy suits.
They grab my arms and lead me away, and although my instincts are to fight them off, I tell myself that staying in this auction any longer is the last thing I need.
They lead me to a parked car. I’ve never seen one of these in working condition.
It smells of expensive leather, unlike the horrible scent of gasoline in the buggy I came here with.
Once I’m seated in the back seat, the other two slide in from both sides.
Elijah enters the passenger seat, and the driver immediately starts to drive.
Unlike earlier with Jay and his buggy, people hurry to move out of the way as we drive between the city streets. I should be asking questions like where they are taking me, but it might cost me another beating.
The man to my left sniffs. “We’ll need to hose him down; he smells like shit.”
“Open a window,” Elijah says, and the man next to me does, letting in a much-needed breeze.
After around fifteen minutes, we reach a different part of the city, with open plains and large private houses; each one seems to have its own piece of land. If Denver truly is this massive, I understand why they need drones to patrol the sky.