When Was? (Book 2): Who Are You Acquainted With?
Page 8
Walking over to the bed, Rachel fell on top of her and they began making out.
Rolling around, Billie sat on top of her and slid Rachel’s top off. “God I love those!”
Rachel laughed. “There so small though?”
“Yeah but they’re cute!”
Outside the house, Morgan was crouched down in front of the window. “Okay, so I’m gonna sneak in through here, I’ll search the house and if the coast is clear I’ll give you the signal. I’ll whistle and knock on the window four times- ONLY FOUR! Any less than that and it means my cover’s blown, any more than that means I’m trying to come up with a cool beat.”
John glared at him and exhaled. “Morgan?”
He busted out laughing. “Front door it is!”
Walking inside, they could hear music coming from Rachel’s room and saw Kesler crying on the couch while looking at photos.
“Fuck,” Morgan mumbled. Leaning back to John, he whispered, “For what it’s worth, a small part of the reason I killed Hershel was because of what he did to your woman and kid. I do not fucking tolerate that shit. Honestly.”
John nodded and turned his head to Kesler. “Thank you.”
Morgan smiled and patted his arm. “No problemo, Johnnyo.”
Walking across the room, Morgan stopped at Rachel’s door. “Kids... They just don’t understand,” he said as the music blared.
Kesler got up and joined them by the door. “What’s going on?”
Morgan laughed. “Watch this.”
He booted open the door, making Rachel jump. “That music should really be turned down! Off preferably.”
Rachel scurried back on the bed and covered up. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he said with a laugh. “And uh...” He leaned back and looked down at the bottom of her bed. “Do you know there’s a naked guy under your bed?”
Rachel watched him as he reached down. “M-”
He grabbed her shirt off the floor and tossed it to her. “Get dressed, kid, we’re going on a road trip!
“But first, let me take care of that little problem you’ve got with boys not taking no for an answer.” Morgan pulled out his pistol and aimed it down at the bed.
“Don’t!” Rachel screamed.
John took a deep breath. Dammit.
He charged at Morgan and tackled him through the window, sending them to the ground in a pile of shattered glass.
“WHAT IN THE FUCK'S GOTTEN INTO YOU,” Morgan shouted, pushing John off of him.
“She’s lost enough, I’VE LOST ENOUGH! I’m not lettin’ you hurt my kid, and killin’ her friends, that’s hurtin’ my kid.”
“First of all, you don’t LET me do ANYTHING! I DO whatever the FUCK it is I PLEASE! Second, it is taking everything inside of me not to kill you right now!”
“I feel the same way.”
“Is that so? Is that fucking so?” He gritted his teeth and yanked a shard of glass from his left forearm. “You are on some mighty thing fucking ice!”
“You’re not hurting my family.”
“Well now I’m hurting somebody.”
Getting up, Morgan pulled John up to his feet as Rachel and Kesler watched from the window. “Can you guess who that somebody is?” he asked as John punched him across the face, busting open his lip.
Morgan’s eyes were wide, and his mouth gaped open. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
John slammed his fist into Morgan’s mouth.
He grabbed John by the shoulders and pulled him down, kneeing him in the chest. He punched him across the face and slammed his fist down into the back of his head. “WRONG ANSWER!”
John reached for his revolver and Morgan uppercutted up.
Catching John before he fell, Morgan threw him against the side of the house, and kicked him in the stomach.
As Morgan grabbed the handle of his machete, Rachel aimed her pistol at him.
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her through the window, sending her into the pile of glass.
Getting up, she reached for her pistol and Morgan kicked her in the legs, knocking her over.
“DO YOU WANNA END UP LIKE DADDY?”
He lifted Rachel to her feet and grabbed her by the throat. “Let’s see you touch that fucking gun again!” He lifted her in the air and swung her down into the glass.
Kesler bawled. “PLEASE STOP!”
He looked at her and wiped his bloody lip. “What? You don’t wanna threaten me too?”
She shook her head and sniffled. “No, they’re sorry, please leave them alone!”
He shrugged. “Here’s one!” He grabbed Rachel by the waist and swung her into the house, throwing her at Kesler.
Morgan laughed and looked down at John. “Do you still wanna play ‘my dick is bigger than yours’?”
John opened his mouth and Morgan kicked him in the head.
“DO YOU?”
“NO!”
Morgan licked his bottom lip, getting a taste of his blood. “Well I do. Sure as fuck, fuck yes I do!”
He picked John up by the shirt and stood him in front of the window. “Go ahead, so much as touch that fucking toy of yours.”
John reached for his revolver and Morgan knuckled him in the face, making John fall backwards through the window.
Morgan climbed back inside and grinned. “The show’s not over yet.”
He lifted Rachel and threw her onto his shoulder.
Kesler trembled. “What are you doing to them?”
“Well,” he said, grabbing John by the neck of his shirt. “Come follow me and you’ll see!”
Leaving the house, Morgan walked down the road and tossed John in front of him. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he yelled as he threw Rachel down. He pulled out his pistol and fired a shot in the air. “SHOWTIME!”
John’s face was covered in blood, and his arms were covered in cuts and scratches. Rachel’s bare back and arms were red and bloody.
John coughed and held his ribs. “Morgan, please-”
“I should pull out my dick, make you suck it, and spit the seed straight into her eyes,” Morgan shouted, kicking John in the stomach. “But I’m not Hershel, Ashton, Braun... I don’t do shit like that... Now tell me something, John, how are you feeling, right now? You still the big tough guy you think you are?”
As a crowd of Argentinians began to gather, Morgan took Carver’s knife from John’s belt and grabbed Rachel.
“Morgan, please,” John screamed.
Cutting off Rachel’s bra, Morgan whipped it at John, leaving a red mark on his face. “Might as well fuck with her too while we’re out here!” He laughed as Rachel covered herself. “How’s that feel, Rachel? All your friends and family seeing your itty bittys? Knowing that some of these sick bastard’s are gonna go home and beat one off to that mental image?”
Rachel scowled. “Fuck you.”
He laughed. “Aww, that’s the same look your Daddy gives me.” He looked to the crowd. “EVERYONE! You all know me, but for those of you who need a reminder. I, am, Morgan. Fucking. Williams. Leader of the Acquainted! Your owner!”
John slowly got up to his feet and wobbled as he stood.
“I can’t believe the guy whose arm I chopped off STILL needs to be taught a lesson. So here we go.” Morgan pulled out his gun and aimed it at a man. “Black guy important to you?”
John wiped the blood from his face and turned his head to the man. “JAY!”
Morgan blasted Jamal’s face apart.
“Bastard,” John screamed, punching Morgan in the face.
As he reached for his hatchet, Morgan swung his knuckles into the side of John’s head, knocking him to the ground.
Standing him on his knees, Morgan took Carver’s knife and pressed it against the side of John's head. “Do you hear that, John? It sounds like running water!”
Grabbing John’s right ear, he yanked the knife up, slicing it clean off.
John screamed in pain, and grabbed his gushing
wound as Kesler cried harder.
“PULL ANOTHER STUNT LIKE THIS AND I PROMISE YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO PULL SHIT! I, am Morgan. Fucking. Williams! I am your owner! Your boss! Think of yourself like a manager, you deal with this place while I’m away, but when I’m here, your job is meaningless! I know a lot of people who’d love to take your job. As a matter of fact, Gordon comes to mind!”
Morgan turned around and took deep breaths.
Rachel got up and Kesler rushed over, both trying to help John up.
Morgan glanced at Rachel and laughed. “A little thing like you, what kind of help are you gonna be? A crutch? Now put a fucking shirt on, who are you, Malig-tits?”
Kesler glared at him. “You think you’re better than people like Hershel-”
“HEY! DO YOU WANT TO LOSE AN ARM TOO?” he shouted, storming over and pushing them to the ground.
“YOU,” he yelled, looking at Rachel. “Cover up your tits and get ready! John, clean yourself up, change, and get the fuck ready too! And Ginger, you keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut and we’ll both be happy.
“We are NOT letting this ruin our fun family outing! GET MOVING, GET READY!”
Chapter 9:
In Cold Water, Freezing
Some hours later, John, Rachel, Kesler, and Billie arrived at the Ohio Base with Morgan.
The girls sat in the grey waiting area outside the infirmary as John and Morgan saw the doctor.
“He hit you pretty good, huh?” a woman with long blonde hair asked as she finished cleaning Morgan’s stitched lip.
Standing in the doorway, Davey scoffed. “It’s amazing that Morgan didn’t kill you on the spot,” he said, glaring at John.
Morgan smiled and kissed the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Lydia.”
“Mind if I get my ear taken care of while we’re here? Or Rachel’s back? We don’t exactly have any one qualified back home.”
Morgan laughed. “I know, right?”
Leaving the infirmary, Morgan led the group through the base.
“Where are we going?” Billie asked.
“I’m sorry, are you John’s kid? No? Yeah, I didn't think so. In that case, keep your lips the fuck zipped! The only reason you’re here is because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
John tapped Morgan’s arm. “Nothin’s gonna happen to the kids, right?”
“What kind of a monster hurts children?”
Rachel raised her brows. “You?”
“Loophole! You’re not children! You’re young women!” Stopping the group, Morgan grabbed Rachel’s face. “Now who on God’s green earth could hurt a face like that?” He rubbed his thumb over the scar on her bottom lip. “Cute scar, kid.”
“Thanks, I got it from Hershel.”
Chuckling, he patted her on the back and continued the tour.
Not long after, after visiting the jail, the armory, and the mess hall, they came out to the factory floor.
John and Rachel glanced at each other, both recognizing some of the people in the room.
Morgan laughed and clapped his hands. “These are the workers! They clean, they farm, and in worst case scenarios, they fight for us!” He looked to John and smirked. “Bare handed of course. Can’t go givin’ them weapons.”
John looked around the room at all the people he had chained up. Memories of the Harbor and the Wet Lock flooded his mind. “What is all this?”
“We got all of the Tribuals, one from Ecuador, Malignites, a couple Cascadians, some of those Harbor pricks... You name it! We got it! Ever heard of Woodrow? We have a couple from there too!”
John looked around the room and saw a small boy scrubbing a shirt on a washboard. “I thought you didn’t hurt kids?”
“Enemy kids, aren’t just kids. They’re the enemy. Now what do you think? Impressive isn’t it?” he asked, smiling at the group.
Rachel nodded. “That’s one word for it.”
Billie shrugged. “I guess so.”
“What do you mean you GUESS?”
Kesler grabbed John’s hand.
Morgan got down in Billie’s face, backing her against a wall and making her cry.
“Alright, Morgan, she didn’t mean anything by it,” John said, staring at Billie and instinctively holding his hand over his empty holster.
Morgan slapped Billie across the face. “SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO!”
“It’s cool,” Billie whined, holding her face.
“Damn straight it’s fucking cool,” he yelled, pushing her to the floor.
As Rachel ran to Billie’s side, Morgan leaned back and whispered to John, “If she isn’t on her feet when I count to five, she’ll never use her feet again.”
John hurried and helped Billie up. “Come on, you’re alright.”
Morgan laughed. “God DAMN I love you!”
About an hour later, after showing them around the base, Morgan took the group up to his living quarters to relax.
“Nice place you got here,” John said, looking around the room.
It was a large spacious area with an Alaskan King sized bed in the center. There was a kitchen off to the right and some showers to the left. The main area had a thick red carpet and the kitchen and showers had clean beige tiles.
“John, do you like vodka?” Morgan asked, walking from the kitchen with a bottle and red plastic cups.
“I actually can’t drink, I got a bad liver.”
“I thought there was beer in your fridge? I clearly remember me drinking one of those beers from your fridge.”
“Didn’t say I don’t. Said I can’t.”
Morgan rolled his eyes and held the bottle to Rachel. “How about you, kid?”
“No.”
“Whatever... BILLIE? How about you?” Morgan smiled and stared deep into her watery eyes.
She nodded. “Alright, yes. Thank you.” Taking the bottle, Billie tipped it up and chugged some.
Morgan laughed. “It’s good shit, ain’t it, kid?”
“Yes,” she said, wiping her mouth. Her hand trembled as she passed him the bottle, spilling some of the vodka on him.
He grinned. “Oh you poor thing, you’re freezing. Do you need me to build a fire?”
“I’m alright. Thank you,” she said, holding back tears.
“Smart answer.”
In an attempt to change the subject and get Morgan’s attention off Billie, John pointed at a photo of a woman and boy, taped on the wall. “That your family?”
Morgan silently stared at John for a moment before walking across the room and ripping the photo off the wall. “Ray’s,” he mumbled as he crumpled the photo and slid it in his pocket.
“The boy kinda reminds me of this kid I had to put down, De-” Ohhh. His eyes widened and he felt sick to his stomach. Fuck.
Morgan turned. “DAMN! I just got the sickest fucking idea,” he said with a big toothy grin.
“Yeah?”
“How fucked would it be,” he said, walking up to John and getting in his face. “To force a man to fuck his own daughter?”
John got quiet, afraid of what to say next.
“To have some boys hold a man down, and force him to shove his dirty old dad dick inside his little bundle of joy?”
John gulped, staying silent.
“Think about it, John. Having people hold them down, making the dad slide his dick up inside that. It’s pretty fucked, right?”
John grabbed Kesler’s hand to keep him from doing something he might regret.
“I want you to picture it. Some of my boys forcing a man to cum ins-”
Kesler slapped Morgan across the face. “Be thankful John doesn’t have his gun!”
Morgan grabbed his crotch and laughed. “Je-zuz FUCK, woman! You got me so hard I think I broke something!”
John eye seemed to pop out of his head as he stared at Kesler.
Morgan slid off his jacket and tossed it on the bed. “Fuck, maybe I should cu-”
She slapped him again, her nail ripp
ed on the fresh stitches in his lip.
“YOU’RE PUSHING YOUR LUCK!”
John grabbed Morgan’s arm as he clenched his fists. “I- I- I'll...” He gulped. “Morgan... She.... It’s her...” He stopped, not sure what to say, unable to come up with something.
Morgan pushed John to the floor and stared at Kesler.
“Maybe I should bring Johnny’s old friend Pat in here. Make him fuck you while he watches... Or.”
Pulling out his machete, Morgan sunk it into Kesler’s stomach.
• • •
Day Three after surgery, the Argentina hospital.
“Hello?” a woman asked, knocking on John’s door and peeking in the window.
John looked at his empty lunch tray and sat up. “Nurse?”
Opening the door was a pale, red haired woman. She wore a dark green tank top, her white bra straps visible, and her dark blue jeans covered in dirt. “Hi, I’m Kesler.”
John glanced at the other end of the room to the empty hospital bed where Rachel slept the night before. “Where- Where’s my kid?”
“New girl? She’s off in the gardens talking to Parker, one of the farmers here.”
“What do you want?”
Kesler shrugged. “I just thought I’d stop in, see how the new guy’s holdin’ up.”
“I’m fine.”
Kesler looked around the room and clacked her teeth. “So... Mind if I sit down?” she asked, pointing to the chair beside his bed.
John nodded. “Go ahead.”
Sitting down, Kesler introduce herself. “Kesler Monroe.”
“...John Miller.”
“So you came from out there?”
“Out there?”
“The wild!” She smiled. “Or are you from a community?”
John let out a little chuckle. “I guess I’m from the wild.”
“Have any stories you wanna share? I think I’ve heard all of Wallace’s war stories a hundred times or more by now.” She laughed. “I’m always lookin’ for someone new to talk to.”
John looked back at his empty tray. “Tell you what. You get the nurse to grab me a bite to eat and somethin’ to drink, and I’ll tell you a few of my own war stories.”
“I’ll do you one better.” Getting up, she grabbed the tray and headed for the door. “Give me a few minutes.”