Bounty Hunter

Chapter 32

The Devil's Dance Floor.

Joe knew that the worst of the worst were sent to the Devil's Dance Floor to fight for their lives in a cage pit while the wealthy gambled on who would win and who would die. He knew that a few prisoners volunteered to fight on the Dance Floor in hopes of winning their way out of a life sentence. That was the deal: Survive twenty fights and you went free. Joe had never heard of anyone going free, not since the mutants were introduced.

Yeah. Real mutants.

Abominations produced from mixing DNA strands that had no business being together, they included the Elephant Man, Wolf Man, and Rhino Man. Joe had once seen a picture of a mutant—a hybrid of human and crocodile DNA. It wasn't pretty, and he never would've believed mutants existed if he hadn't seen the picture. But he shouldn't have been surprised. Humans thrived at pushing limits, and the urge to push often surpassed the logic of restraint and morality.

"Looks like you've heard of this place," Terry said.

"Yeah, I've heard of it."

Terry motioned to the tattooed man. "I just learned about it when Bobo filled me in." He leaned closer to whisper in Joe's ear. "I think Bobo's loco, though."

Joe's jaw was tight. "Whatever he told you about this place isn't nearly as bad as what it's really like."

Terry stared at him for a moment, fear holding his eyes open wide.

Joe squeezed his shoulder. "Relax. You don't need to worry about it."

"I don't?"

Joe forced a smile. "You don't." He didn't tell Terry the reason why he didn't need to worry: Because you'll be dead in under a minute once you walk into that cage.

Joe glanced across at the other three faces in the cell. "Any of you see the dance floor yet?"

They shook their heads.

"I have."

Joe turned to see a prisoner in the next cell over watching him. Joe stepped up to the bars so that they faced each other. The other prisoner was as beat up as Joe felt, with bruises and cuts covering his face and arms. The man stood a foot taller than Joe and weighed at least one hundred pounds more, which was saying a lot. Joe was pushing six feet tall and was in good shape.

"Those mutants aren't human," the prisoner said. "I barely won. And look at me." He glanced down at his bulky muscles, then looked back at Joe. "Look at you. You don't stand a chance in that cage. Sorry, pal."

Joe took a step closer, within inches of the bars separating the two cells. "You see, friend, I have this mental condition that causes me to get these weird ideas, and there's nothing I can do except to turn those ideas into reality. You know the condition I'm talking about?"

He shook his head.

"It's called optimism, and I wouldn't bet against me in the cage."

He laughed. "Then you're an idiot."

Joe shrugged. "Half of all the people in the world are idiots."

The other prisoner stepped closer to the bars and sneered. "At least you have plenty of company."

Joe rammed his hand between the bars, careful to avoid being shocked, and chopped the man in the neck. The prisoner grabbed his throat and stepped back in a coughing fit.

"The other half of all people in the world know how to take advantage of those idiots," Joe said and stepped back.

Terry gave him a dry look. "You're off to a great start making friends here."

Joe remained quiet. Terry didn't need to know he wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to make friends.

Several pairs of bootsteps echoed through the hallway, and Joe turned to see four armed murcs approach his cell.

"Back to the wall," one murc ordered.

Terry skittered back to join the other three near the stone wall, and Joe joined them.

The murc who'd spoken stepped forward, waved a keycard, and the door unlocked. He clipped the keycard on his belt, grabbed a bar, and pulled the door open. Joe eyed this; likely, the lock was engaged purely by electrical current, meaning that all the locks would fail should the power grid fail.

"Bobo Neche and Joe Ballast, step forward."

The tattooed man scowled, tossed a quick look at Joe, and walked to the front of the cell. Joe joined him. Trepidation throbbed in his sore muscles.

The murc smiled. "It's your lucky day, boys. You're next up for the Devil's Dance Floor."

"Wow," Terry said. "Last in, first out. You must've really ticked off the wrong guy, Joe."

Joe shot a wild grin at his cellmate. "I sure did."