not that he gave a shit what Lola thought anymore. Bitch!
The boys stared down at him for a moment, then the older boy opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of the bolt locks cut him off.
After the three loud cracks, a man Michael hadn’t seen before stepped into the room and grabbed Josh by the top of his arm. “You’re coming with me, boy.”
Forcing his body between them, the older boy shook his head. “He ain’t going anywhere without me.”
The thick-framed man ground his jaw and silence held for a few seconds before his stony expression lifted. He spoke with a level tone. “Just so you know, boy, we do what the fuck we like here. I’m going to let you come with him, but know that I’m letting you. It’s nothing to do with your little tantrum; it’s because I’m a super fucking nice guy. Got it?”
The older brother didn’t reply.
The guard and Michael stared at one another. Deep bags hung beneath the man’s eyes and his glare was stone cold. When he continued to lead Josh from the room, his older brother followed behind.
Just before closing the door, the guard looked at Michael again. “Someone will be over for you soon to take you to the warehouse.”
Cocking an eyebrow at him, the older boy said, “The warehouse doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Michael said. What else could he say?
Once the boys were taken out and the door bolted again, he added, “Although it’s a damn sight better than where you’re going.”
Escapee
If anything, the corridors were dirtier than before. In the few weeks that he’d been away, the funk of the place had increased, grime coating not only the floors but the walls too. The smell of sweat and farts hung thick in the air. Another shove in his back spurred Michael forward as he made his way down the dimly lit passageway.
They’d said he'd be heading to the warehouse. Please let that be true. The warehouse was grim, but he’d escaped it once before, so he could do it again—especially if no one recognized him.
Searing pain ran through Michael’s left bicep when one of the men grabbed him and steered him through several sharp twists and turns. Wincing, he tensed up but tried not to overreact. Annoying the guards never turned out well. If he could get to the warehouse, he could wait with the other boys and plan to get out. If he got under the guard’s skin, he’d stand out as a nuisance and they'd target him. Maybe they didn’t have any say over who Julius picked, but there seemed no point in risking it. Whatever happened, he had to avoid Julius.
Several empty beer cans clattered at Michael’s feet, their aluminum rattle amplified by the enclosed space. The guard pushed him on.
The closer they got to the warehouse, the worse the smell. The tang of sweat had as good as vanished. Now, it reeked of shit. Beneath the predominant stink were undertones of urine, alcohol, and vomit.
Just before he stepped on her, Michael noticed the naked woman on the floor. She lay across the narrow corridor, bent like a discarded rag doll.
When he passed over her, Michael glanced down. Her chin glistened with vomit, a needle hung from one of her skinny arms, and her eyes had rolled back in her head. Her mouth hung wide, and she twitched occasionally.
They stopped in front of the large, steel door to the warehouse. The guard pulled a jingling ring full of keys from his pocket and unlocked the padlock. There was just one bolt on this door; it was huge and took a lot of wiggling to get it free. After a few seconds of the dry scratching of metal on metal, there was a loud thunk and the guard pulled the door wide with a yawning creak.
Michael gasped when the guard grabbed him harder than before. When he spoke, his gravelly voice ran icicles down Michael’s spine. It was the man who usually wore the sack over his head but it was too dark to get a proper look at him. Whatever the devil looked like, Michael always imagined it would be the same as this man.
“Welcome to the warehouse,” he said and shoved Michael forward.
After several stumbling steps, Michael stopped and looked around the room. Nothing had changed from before. The poor light made it hard to tell how many, but between thirty and fifty filthy boys stared at him. Hopefully, they wouldn’t remember