Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) Read Free Page B

knowing there were others around him—others like him. When he’d first arrived, Adam had done his best to track prisoners as they came and went, but it grew increasingly difficult as the block’s population stayed in constant flux, with guards ushering ever-larger groups around the prison. Adam saw what little he did only by staring through a large window in his cell that looked out over the yard, the view somehow designed for his torment, trapping him in the dark even as he was bathed in the day’s brightest light. Like his glowing blue bracelet, the sun never quite warmed his body as he sat for long hours in his cold cell alone.
    On his ninth weekend, the other prisoners disappeared and never returned—and he realized they weren’t like him at all. Adam was led to another part of the prison that he had never known about, even as a Junior Watcher. The second cell was smaller, colder, and—impossibly—even more alone. He found himself surprised to miss his horrible view.
    It was then that he started hearing the whispers, from the few guards in this new area. They all wanted him to hear, and to be afraid, because fear in isolation rotted the body. There were whispers among the Watchers of a special edition of The Darwins brewing, with additional (or fewer) players, perhaps an extended play length. Different rules. New weapons. Harsher environments would make sense, but Adam was only guessing from the few snippets he was allowed to hear. It turned out that, for him, guessing without knowing made him sicker, as he waited to see what Keller—a vengeful man, moving his diseased breed of justice from father to son—was planning.
    After his move, Adam saw no one except his daily interrogators. Each day he stayed strong, giving them nothing and hoping to make his murdered father proud—a sentiment he would have sneered at just a few months ago. Regardless, they came in at different times, most often in the morning when Adam was still blurry-eyed, and ordered him to rat out members of The Underground. Other than for the interrogations, they only came in to bring Adam rancid food or drag him out of his cell for the occasional shower. He always trembled as the door cracked opened, certain that this time he’d see Keller instead of the guard and finally suffer the ugly man’s wrath.
    Now, in the back of the van and Halo bound, Adam wondered if he’d ever see Keller again . . . and realized that Keller could be watching him right now. Bile rose in his throat as the van came to a grinding halt and jostled the thought from his head.
    Adam’s heart started to race. Even though he’d been numb for months, the Halo’s “promise” poured fresh life into his body. After what felt like an eternity, the rear door swung open. The bracelet finally felt warm as it hummed, then shone a brighter blue. A speaker blared from the guard’s helmet.
    “Exit the van, Lovecraft! Stand in line and wait for the cannon.”
    Pointing a gun in Adam’s face, the guard yelled, “Now.”
    Adam stepped into the snow, boots sinking as he shivered and rubbed warmth into his arms. He looked around, wondering where in the hell he was. Somewhere he’d never seen: the center of a giant stadium, surrounded by ancient and mostly rotten seats.
    Games were usually confined to wilderness areas. It made for better shows to see contestants fleeing through forest to escape the swarming hordes of undead. Adam couldn’t remember ever having seen anything in an arena like this one.
    The guard spun him around and shoved him toward what looked like a hundred or so contestants—the most Adam had ever seen waiting for The Games. Four oversized hunter orbs buzzed overhead, hovering a few feet above the line. A pair of men—behemoths in black suits and mirrored helmets—stood at the line’s rear, rifles ready. Many more guards—they seemed more militant than those usually assigned to The Games—were scattered through the snow, black on white like a sickness