Epilogue
Porter's head hurt. He had been given another injection a few hours ago, but it had worn off and he was awake again.
He was spread on a metal table, the kind they use for surgeries. His glasses were on a table next to him and he stood to retrieve them.
There was only one window in the room. He walked towards it, swaying slightly. He stopped and grabbed the table to regain his balance. When he was sure that he would not fall over, he stepped forward and peered out the glass.
Old buildings rose high into the sky. The streets below were dirty and full of people. They were dressed in rags and trying to sell things from stands off the side of the street. He seemed to be high up; the ground was far below him.
The door opened behind him and he turned to see a man with short black hair and was wearing a black suit. "Porter Rydell," his voice was clipped and crisp.
"Where am I?"
He looked out the window before facing Porter. "New Las Vegas."
"What?" Porter looked out the window and back at the man. "You're joking."
"I assure you I am not," he man smiled a little. "You were brought here by Barton. Apparently you're one hell of a medic and your friend is an exceptionally good fighter."
The events of the previous day seemed to wash over Porter all at once. "There was a kid with us. Tatum-Eric Steele Jr. He had just been shot. Is he alive?"
The man nodded. "Yes he is. But not for long. Unless you agree to help us."
"What do you want me to do?" Porter asked quickly. Tatum was his friend. He would do whatever it took to keep him alive.
The man smiled, "We need a medic to patch up the Glades after the gladiator fights."
"The what?"
"Gladiator fights. Things in Los Vegas are a little different than they are in Los Angeles," The man leaned against the table, arms folded over his chest. "Here we have weekly matches. Fights to the death. People love to gamble on them. The Lee girl has already consented to fight in them as long as the Dashner boy is alive and remains with her. Mr Steele will be returned to you three if you agree to the terms."
Porter absorbed the information for just a few seconds before he asked, "what are the terms."
He smiled. "Well Mr Rydell, Jared will explain those to you soon enough."
"And who are you?"
"Charles Mason." The man held his hand out, "I run the gladiator fights. And practically all of Los Vegas."
Porter took his hand and shook it firmly. "Now," he stood straighter, "Where are my people?"
THE END
No comments:
Post a Comment