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THE CLOSER IT came to Jethro’s flogging the faster the minutes went and then Rex was back. Now, that the time was here, he wanted to go back to waiting. His legs were heavy as he followed Rex down the hallway. A group of about twenty Guards joined them as they stepped outside into the Central Commons.
A huge crowd had gathered. There were always vendors, selling food and other wares, but today there were ten times as many. People were eating and laughing. It was like a party or a show, except the main event would be his pain.
“Get moving,” growled one of the Guards as he shoved Jethro.
He stumbled and laughter rang out from the crowd as cameras flashed and reporters pushed toward him, shoving microphones in his face. The urge to run, to kill those who blocked him from freedom made him tremble, but he’d never make it through the crowd. He was trapped—surrounded. He’d waited too long.
Rex’s grip on his arm tightened and he leaned closer. “Don’t let them see your fear. That’s what they want.”
He nodded, but didn’t move. Up ahead was pain.
“Keep walking,” said Rex. “It’ll be over soon.”
Another Guard clasped his other arm, forcing him forward.
He focused on moving his feet one after the other as sweat poured down his back. The crowd ahead of him parted, clearing the path to the gallows. His legs stopped moving and he leaned away from the post and the Grunt holding the cat-o-nine. He couldn’t go through with this. He had to escape. Flee.
“Walk.” Rex’s grip tightened painfully. “Now.” His voice was sharp in Jethro’s ear. “Do. Not. Give them the satisfaction. You’re stronger than this.”
Everyone was staring at him, their eyes gleaming in anticipation. They wanted to see him break, see him suffer. It didn’t make sense. He’d never done anything to any of them except fight to protect them and their way of life.
Rex and the other Guard forced him forward, closer and closer to the pole and his pain. The Guards’ grips were firm, helping his knees not to buckle and hiding his fear from the public.
“Stand straight,” whispered Rex. “Think of something else. Your girl. A favorite place. Your revenge. Anything but this.”
They stopped at the post. Rex removed Jethro’s shirt and hooked his hands in the straps above his head. Jethro stared into the crowd, panic starting to flood his senses. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d fight or struggle or beg for mercy. He couldn’t allow himself to do any of those things. They’d do no good except give the crowd—his enemies—pleasure. He tried to think of something else, but he could smell his own fear and the excitement of the crowd. The scent of blood clung to the pole and the whip. Soon, it’d be his blood.
His muscles bunched, straining against the restraints. If he fought, could he free himself? Tear through the crowd. He’d kill anyone who got in his way. He searched for an opening and his eyes landed on Conguise. The professor looked sad not triumphant. He snarled at the man, his mentor, another person who’d betrayed him. He looked past the professor but he recognized no one. Selfishly, he wished his mom or Kim were here—someone, anyone who cared about him. He scanned past Cal—whose smashed nose would’ve made him smile any other day—and some of the Guards from the army and then he saw Indy. The Guard pushed through the crowd to the front, his brown eyes locking with Jethro’s. Jethro’s muscles relaxed and he wanted to smile, to show his gratitude to the Guard for his friendship but his body was past obeying. All it did now was quiver in anticipation of the pain. He tried to steady his breathing. Rex was right. He could do this. Indy was here. He wasn’t alone.
Jason spoke but Jethro’s mind couldn’t process the words. All he heard was his heart pounding. All he smelled was his own fear and excitement from the crowd. The faces became a sea of images. He found Indy again and focused on his friend and then there was pain. Excruciating pain as the nine knots hit his back. His mouth opened, but he held back the scream as the crowd gasped. Another lash fell and his muscles bunched and twitched. His knees gave out, leaving him hanging by his arms. His body twisted, trying to dodge the whip but there was no escape as another lash hit and another. He fought the blackness that called to him, promising freedom from the fire on his back. He couldn’t pass out. He wouldn’t pass out. He stared at Indy—anger, sadness and disgust marred the Guard’s handsome features. Another lash landed and another, the pain never ceasing, just surging through him in wave after wave. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t deserve this. He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t forced her. He’d loved her and she’d betrayed him.
Anger flared in him, overcoming the pain. The crowd gasped again as he grabbed the cord tying his hands and pulled himself up until he no longer hung from his restraints but stood straight and tall—hatred and power surging through him. He looked at the crowd, curling his lips in a snarl as he stared down his enemies. Those closest backed away. The lashes continued to land and they continued to hurt, but that wasn’t important. Only his vengeance mattered. As soon as he was free, he’d kill the Grunt who whipped him and anyone he could catch. He scanned the crowd, choosing his prey. His eyes stopped on the professor. Him. Conguise would be the first to die.
The professor watched with a look of pride on his narrow face. Conguise’s gaze met his and the professor took a small step backward, his face paling before he turned and left. Jethro jerked on his restraints. His prey was escaping. He yanked again, but the cords were tied tight. The crowd murmured and those closest moved backward a little more. The lashes continued as he stared after Conguise’s retreating form until it disappeared. It didn’t matter. He knew where the professor lived.
Someone stepped close and started unhooking his hands. The whipping had stopped but the pain still throbbed through his body. Blood was in the air and he wanted to kill someone. The professor was gone but the Grunt was still there. He’d have his vengeance on someone today. His hands dropped to his sides and his knees buckled from the pain in his shoulders and arms—the pain of freedom. He tried to turn and attack the Grunt, but his body refused to obey. Rex and Indy lifted him under his arms, careful not to touch his back, but the movement pulled at his skin and darkness once again threatened. He couldn’t pass out. Not yet. He wasn’t safe. His enemies still surrounded him. The other Guards moved forward, making an opening through the crowd. He leaned on Rex and Indy as they led him to a waiting carriage.
“You did good,” said Rex. “I’ve never seen anyone walk away.”
His legs were like jelly but he was walking, trying to keep his head high. The Guards helped him into the carriage, placing him on his stomach. Indy handed him a bottle of whiskey and he tipped it to his lips, swallowing in great gulps. A lot of it ran down his face and chin as the carriage took off, but he didn’t care. It’d take the edge off the pain.
“We’ll be home soon,” said Indy.
He had no idea where home was, but anywhere would do. His fear and anger had subsided, leaving only agony. He wanted to sleep, to die, anything to get away from this hurt. The carriage stopped. He handed the bottle to Indy and tried to stand. A groan escaped his lips.
“Get his arms,” said Rex.
Indy dropped the bottle and grabbed his top half. Jethro moaned, snatching the bottle from the seat and chugging. Taking the edge off the pain wasn’t enough. He wanted to pass out.
“We need to get him inside and get his wounds cleaned.” Rex grabbed his feet and began to drag him from the carriage. “The beating hurts but they don’t die from it. The infection...that’s what you have to worry about.”
When they carried him into the house, Tee was waiting. She led them to a room where they put him on a bed.
“Drink this.” Tee tipped the whiskey bottle to his mouth.
He chugged the liquor and coughed, turning his head as lightning ricocheted through his spine.
“Soon, you’ll sleep.” Tee ran her hand through his hair and the three left the room.
There were whispers and mumbles from outside his door. They moved farther away. The soft sound of running water and the clanking of dishes drifted into the room. He seemed to be drifting too. The throbbing in his back subsided to a dull ache. This he could handle. He closed his eyes wanting nothing more than to sleep but Indy, Rex and Tee came back into the room.
“Hold him down,” said Rex.
“No!” He tried to sit up but strong hands grabbed his arms and he was too weak to resist.
“It’s okay.” Indy tightened his grip. “We need to clean your wounds.”
Tee sat down on the bed next to him, her slight weight barely shifting the mattress. She placed her hand on his forehead. “He’s hot.”
“Always hot,” he mumbled, his tongue thick from the whiskey.
Her fingers caressed his scalp. “We’re going to clean your wounds and it’s going to hurt.” She held a bottle to his mouth. “Drink.”
It wasn’t the whiskey. He turned his head away. It stank of fish, earth and something vile.
“You should drink,” said Rex. “This won’t be pleasant.”
He frowned but took a gulp. It tasted like death and the flavor lingered on his tongue. He dropped his head to the bed, fighting nausea. “Fine now.”
“He should have more.” Tee put the bottle back to his lips, spilling some into his mouth.
He considered spitting it out but it was easier to swallow. However, he did shove his face into the pillow so she couldn’t pour any more of the nasty concoction down his throat.
“Leave him be,” said Indy. “He’s made his choice.”
“A bad one,” said Rex as he tied Jethro’s feet to the bed.
When they raised his arms, Jethro moaned as pain sliced through his drunken and drugged haze.
Once he was secure, Tee began cleaning his wounds. He bit the pillow to stop his screams. This was worse than the beating. He should’ve had more liquor, or even more of her liquid-death. He had to forget what they were doing. Think past the pain. He imagined Trinity’s face—her lips red from his kisses. She stood naked before him, waiting for him, wanting him. He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing. Her eyes pleaded with him but he had the power now. He had control. He loosened his grip on her neck and kissed her as he slipped into darkness.