Chapter 120: Arena Interrogation
The crystal chandeliers in the lobby of the International Hotel still shone brightly.
Yet beneath the thick haze of cigar smoke, their light appeared dim and gray.
On the second floor, drug lord Diego Sanchez sat leisurely on a leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other. A half-smoked cigar rested between his fingers.
There was no anger on his face.
Only a faint smile.
But that smile alone was enough to make the man standing before him tremble.
Mr. Wang, the hotel's former general manager, stood with his head lowered.
He was an Asian man in his forties. His hair was neatly combed, and his suit remained perfectly pressed despite the apocalypse.
Before the world ended, he had served the hotel's owners.
Now, he served Diego Sanchez.
At this moment, however, his composure was gone.
Sweat soaked the back of his suit.
Drops of perspiration rolled down his forehead.
His lips trembled uncontrollably.
"Boss..."
Diego placed his cigar on the edge of the ashtray and spoke calmly.
"Those traitors were hired by you, weren't they?"
Mr. Wang nearly collapsed.
His knees bent instinctively before he forced himself to remain standing.
"Y-Yes, Boss. They were hired before the apocalypse, but I truly didn't know they would—"
"You didn't know?"
Diego smiled.
The smile made Mr. Wang's legs weaken even further.
"You're the general manager."
"The people were hired by you."
"And you expect me to believe you knew nothing about them?"
Mr. Wang wanted to cry.
How could I know?
I'm not a mind reader.
Unable to bear the pressure any longer, he dropped to his knees.
His knees struck the marble floor with a dull thud.
"Boss, I swear I didn't know!"
"If I had known they would betray you, I never would have hired them!"
"I'll replace them immediately! I'll recruit new people—loyal people—"
Diego rose from his seat.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He walked over and looked down at the kneeling manager.
Mr. Wang pressed his forehead against the cold marble floor.
He didn't dare raise his head.
Diego drew a silver pistol from his waist.
The metal gleamed beneath the chandelier.
He spun it casually before pressing the barrel against the back of Mr. Wang's head.
Mr. Wang froze.
Even his breathing stopped.
I'm dead.
This is the end.
Then Diego spoke.
"Your hotel management skills are excellent."
The pistol disappeared back into its holster.
Diego patted him on the shoulder.
"The service quality you've maintained here is unmatched."
"It would be a waste to kill you."
"Get up."
"Hire new staff."
"And make sure something like this never happens again."
He didn't need to say more.
The smile on his face said everything.
Relief flooded through Mr. Wang's body.
Tears mixed with sweat as he scrambled to his feet and hurried away without daring to look back.
---
Soon, only Diego, his men, and the prisoners remained.
Marcos and Anna hung from ropes tied to separate pillars.
Their wrists had turned purple from the restraints.
Their toes barely touched the ground.
Nearby, Victor and Elena knelt with their hands bound behind their backs and rags stuffed into their mouths.
Diego returned to his seat upstairs.
A subordinate handed him a fresh cigar.
He lit it and took a slow puff.
Then he looked down at the captives.
"Tell me."
"Where did they go?"
Anna slowly raised her head.
Blood stained her lips.
Bruises covered her face.
Yet her eyes remained bright.
Fearless.
She looked directly at Diego and smiled.
"A horrible death is waiting for you."
One of the guards stormed forward.
The butt of his rifle slammed into her stomach.
Anna doubled over.
Blood spilled from her mouth.
Yet she refused to scream.
Marcos struggled violently against his restraints.
The ropes cut into his skin.
Blood dripped from his wrists.
"Come after me!"
"Leave her alone!"
Diego casually waved his hand.
The guard stepped back.
Smoke drifted from Diego's nostrils as he exhaled.
"I like your spirit."
He looked at Marcos with amusement.
"You've got guts."
"But I have ways of dealing with people like you."
He gave a subtle nod.
Several thugs immediately surrounded Marcos.
The beating began.
A fist smashed into his face.
Blood burst from his nose.
Boots crashed into his ribs.
Each impact echoed through the hall.
Marcos gritted his teeth.
Not a single scream escaped him.
Diego flicked ash from his cigar.
"Ready to talk now?"
"Where did they go?"
Marcos spat blood onto the floor.
Then he slowly lifted his head.
"I don't know."
"I only helped them escape."
"I never asked where they were going."
Diego sighed dramatically.
Then he crushed the cigar into the ashtray.
"Stubborn."
"Very well."
"Let's ask somewhere else."
He stood.
With a wave of his hand, he gave the order.
"Take them to the Arena."
"Maybe that will loosen their tongues."
---
The room exploded with excitement.
Men wearing floral shirts and gold chains cheered loudly.
Some whistled.
Others pounded the tables.
Several raised bottles and drank greedily.
The Arena.
That was what they called the basement.
Before the apocalypse, it had been a banquet hall.
Now it was a brutal death pit.
Iron walls surrounded it.
Heavy gates sealed every entrance.
No windows.
No escape.
Every Friday night, prisoners or those who displeased Diego were forced inside.
Then walkers were released.
The fights were bloody.
The deaths were gruesome.
And the spectators loved every second of it.
---
The iron gate slammed shut.
Marcos and Anna were shoved into the Arena.
Their ropes were cut.
A metallic rattling echoed through the chamber.
Chains.
Heavy chains.
From the opposite gate, several walkers emerged.
The first one Anna saw was the smallest.
A child.
The faded remains of a T-shirt hung from its body.
Bare feet dragged across the concrete.
Its face had rotted away, exposing bone and teeth.
It only reached Anna's waist.
Her entire body froze.
"No..."
The words escaped her lips as a whisper.
Her knees gave way.
"No..."
"No..."
"It's him..."
The walker shuffled forward.
Gray eyes.
Empty eyes.
Yet she recognized him instantly.
Her son.
Before the apocalypse, he had been eight years old.
He loved drawing.
He loved soccer.
Whenever she cooked, he would wrap his arms around her legs and say:
"Mom, I'm hungry."
Now he staggered toward her with his mouth hanging open.
Anna's voice shattered.
"My son..."
---
Marcos grabbed her arm and dragged her backward.
He tore a loose wooden board from a nearby barricade.
Several rusty nails protruded from one end.
Above them, cheers echoed from the viewing gallery.
"Fight!"
"Let them bite you!"
"I bet on the woman!"
Marcos stepped in front of Anna.
The first walker reached them.
Not the child.
An adult male.
Half his face was gone.
Rotting gums and exposed teeth glistened beneath the lights.
Marcos swung.
The nailed board crashed into its skull.
The walker collapsed.
Another came.
Then another.
Marcos fought desperately.
His arms trembled.
Blood seeped from beneath his fingernails.
Still, he kept swinging.
One board shattered completely.
He used the remaining half to drive a nail into another walker's eye socket and pin it against the wall.
The creature continued struggling.
Its claws scraped against the concrete with an ear-piercing screech.
Marcos struck again.
And again.
Until it stopped moving.
---
Eventually, only one walker remained.
The child.
Anna's son.
He limped toward her slowly.
One damaged foot dragged across the floor.
Anna knelt.
With trembling fingers, she touched his face.
The flesh was cold.
Rotten.
Pieces threatened to fall away at the slightest touch.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
They dripped into the empty eye sockets.
"I'm sorry..."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm so sorry..."
Marcos handed her the wooden board.
She gripped it tightly.
Her entire body shook.
The child opened his mouth.
Its broken teeth came closer.
Closer.
Only inches away.
Anna closed her eyes.
Then brought the board down.
---
For a brief moment, the spectators fell silent.
Then the cheers became even louder.
People laughed.
Shouted.
Cursed.
Collected their winnings.
Above them, Diego lit another cigar.
He watched the two broken figures huddled together in the corner.
Both were covered in blood.
Anna clutched the small body and wept.
Marcos sat beside her silently.
Diego flicked ash onto the floor.
"Lock them up."
He smiled.
"Especially that man."
"He's entertaining."
"It would be a waste not to use him again."
---
The iron gate closed.
The lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the Arena.
Only a few thin rays of light slipped through the cracks beneath the door.
Marcos leaned against the wall.
Anna leaned against him.
Neither spoke.
The silence of the darkness was heavier than any words.