No Room In Hell (Book 3): Aftershocks

by Schlichter, William

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some fresh gash. I catch a few alone, and I’m sure it will lead to an infraction. Going to have to work a few over soon. Put them in their place. Before they shut you guys down,” Alec says.

  “No way, man. My uncle’s on the city council and enjoys a few nights here,” the fat man says.

  Alec knows how he got his job. Poor girls who he…maybe they get lucky and he can’t find his dick. He slips a brown paper bag into Bob’s palm. “I was desiring something particular.”

  “This one’s my best. She’s fresh and a tight body. What more do you want?”

  Alec palms the key. “I heard about…” He lowers his voice so only Bob hears. “Paola.”

  Bob raises his eyebrows. “She’s a fighter.”

  Alec smiles.

  “Oh...I get it.” Bob peeks in the bag. “You can have her all night. We can’t give her snatch away.”

  Alec steps away from the lifeless metal detectors.

  “Do me a favor, try and not bruise her face. It seems to turn some people off. When we do have to use her.”

  Alec touches the tip of his Stetson in a half-hearted salute.

  Alec slides into a cell with four beds. Three women sit up. They don’t bother with modesty. Even in the dim light, Alec detects the fading bruises on their skin.

  “Paola.”

  Three women point at the short-haired, dirty-blonde refusing to rise. None of them hide their faces and the relief they have it will not be one of them tonight.

  Part of Alec wonders how this works. How three women remain in a room while the fourth is assaulted. They could fight back. Take the guy out while he… he can’t have any of them believing he’s here for anything other than a fuck. They’d snitch him out for any reprieve.

  “I want Paola.”

  This cues the other women, and they roll over, facing the wall.

  The pit of his stomach burns. Suspecting what occurred in here isn’t the same as knowing.

  He laces his fingers in her hair and jerks her to her feet.

  Alec drags her down the hall. Instead of pulling her into an interrogation room, he uses the key to open the fire escape. Jerking her inside, he pins her to the wall with his forearm to the throat.

  She struggles out of instinct.

  He gives her his best calm, non-threatening voice as his arm cuts off her air. “I know you don’t trust me. You’ve no reason to, and I’m sure every guard to pull you out of bed in the middle of the night uses you. I’m here to free you.” He releases the pressure on her neck.

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’ve killed. But I don’t force myself on women.”

  She belts him in the side.

  The impact stings. Instinct balls his own fist. “I’m going to leave you in the stairwell.”

  “This some game? Fuck you.”

  “No game. No rules. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t need the ‘shot while attempting to escape’ excuse. I’d blow your brains out, and let that fat fuck downstairs squeegee you up.”

  She laughs. “That fucker. I’m not sure it’s assault if he only got a thimble to push inside you. Fuck, I was more scared he’d roll wrong and crush me.”

  Alec laughs.

  She lifts a knee. He bats it away before she drives it into his crotch.

  “Easy, girl. I’m trying to get out of the city, and I need you to buy my passage. Your sister needs you and won’t leave Springfield without you.” Convince her with the truth.

  “You can’t leave the city anymore?”

  “Leave, yes, but where do I go? These people have a safe place. I want out. And I know you do. This is not what I signed on for.”

  “I can’t trust you,” Paola says.

  “Other than not raping you, I don’t know what do. Go down the stairs and exit. I have to go out the front door, or it’ll raise the alarm.”

  Paola stares at him—no trust in her eyes.

  “I could leave you here. You go on down the stairs. I don’t know about guards. Don’t kill anyone. Get across the street and move behind the building, head a block east. I’ll meet you and take you to your sister.”

  Alec fondles the second key in his hand. She’s fresh, echoes in his ears. He reaches for the door handle. “There was another girl I had a room key for. They offered her first before I paid extra to get you.”

  “I cost extra? I thought after the last guy whose ear I bit through I would be free.”

  “It’s risky, but I’ll bring her, too. You wait here. Don’t screw me.”

  “I guess if you were going to rape me, you’d do it. I’ve no trust for you. But it’s been a dull evening. If she’s new, they keep a few VIP suites. Private.”

  Alec checks the cell door numbers with the one on the key, seeking a match. He slips the key in the lock.

  Tied with a leather belt to the end of a four-poster bed is a young girl in a see-through teddy. She’s clean, washed and done up in makeup. He’s unable to avoid checking out her breasts after Bob’s remark.

  “You want to get out of here?” Alec asks.

  “And become some in-house whore servicing you instead of a slut here?”

  “You get a lot of offers?”

  “Fuck you, cowboy.”

  He uncinches the belt. “I’m here for another girl. We’re leaving the city.”

  “And if I blow you, you’ll bring me along.”

  “If you shut the fuck up, I’ll bring you. Do you have shoes?”

  She points her toes at a pair of six-inch heels in the corner.

  “You’re better off barefoot.”

  Finding Paola in the stairwell surprises him.

  “You increased your trust factor by one percent, cowboy,” Paola says.

  “What does that put me up to?” Alec realizes Paola has no shoes either.

  “One percent.”

  “One block east and wait. I’ll have to find you girls some shoes before we meet up with your sister.”

  “And maybe some clothes for us,” Paola adds.

  “It’s freezing,” chatters the girl in the teddy.

  “Do you have a name?” Paola asks

  “Sonya.”

  “How did you end up here?” Alec asks.

  “I was a freshman at MSU,” she says.

  “I think he meant in jail,” Paola clarifies.

  Sonya shakes her head. “Some pot-bellied politician asked me to work in his office. I said I thought I could be more effective helping people on the streets, and the next day, I was arrested.”

  “Are you sure he’s bringing my sister?” Harley asks.

  “I hope Paola plays along.” Karen checks her shotgun. It’s been months, and she has yet to get used to how dark night is without the constant glow of city lights.

  “A few months ago, when I did a wellness check on the inmates, we agreed that would be how we knew I found a way to get her out. Plus, sister was safer. The fanatics don’t care for gays.”

  “You did a wellness check on the inmates in the prison?” Kalvin says.

  “They needed blood work and STD checks. But that was months ago. They haven’t let anyone into the prison. Only the jail. And they only have me check certain girls they bring to me.”

  “And no one has asked about the inmates?” Karen asks.

  “Too much going on for people to care about the inmates. Most have forgotten they exist. I only push for the welfare of those in jail to visit my sister. And then not too often.”

  “Karen, I’m sleepy.” Grace hugs her teddy bear.

  “I know, sweetheart, but we’re leaving soon. We need to head to my home where you’ll be safe.”

  “And no more shaking?”

  “I hope not.”

  “When we sleep on the ground, it shakes all night.”

  “I haven’t noticed,” Kalvin says.

  “You’ve had rough nights sleeping on the ground since we got here,” Karen says.

  “Some people are more sensitive than
others to the ground shifts. Babies have the worst of it,” Harley says.

  Karen hugs the little redhead girl. “I know this much—my home has a real bed and no biters have ever been inside the walls.”

  “What about bad men?”

  “Ethan protects us from them.” Karen hugs her tighter. “He keeps the monsters out.”

  “Teddy keeps the monsters away.”

  “Cute,” Harley says.

  “Not so much.” Frank adds, “The little girl’s packing.”

  “You let a five-year-old carry a gun?” Aghast, Harley slides behind Frank.

  “It’s her gun,” Karen says.

  “How is your place safer than here if you allow in children with guns?” Harley demands.

  “People at our home must be certified to carry a gun,” Kalvin says.

  “The only person to assault a woman at home was punished.”

  “They punish rapists, and they get out and rape again,” Harley says.

  “Not without a dick,” Karen says.

  Harley loses any motivation to argue.

  “I know you’re worried about Paola. Alec’s retrieving her.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll go get her. Frank will escort you out of here, and we’ll catch up in Joplin. Now’s the time to move. The biters have been drawn southeast.”

  “I was thinking about that. What about those from KC?”

  “We should miss them in the direction we travel.” Karen won’t give away her destination. I’m sure there’ll be stragglers, but by the time we head north and turn, we should be behind them. It’s Ethan who I worry about.

  SANCHEZ SHIVERS, EVEN under two wool quilts and between the two shirtless men on either side of her in the tuck. They were decent enough to flip the heat on full high. She doesn’t blame them for stripping off their tees in the makeshift sauna, her wet uniform drying on the bed. Somehow, the trip was not the way any porn director would have fantasized it.

  They reach the farm house. Ethan’s first fenced-in home. Once secure, it allowed the original Acheron residents to build a community. With her bedroom in the same house as their leader, she knows rumors abound. Rumors, to her dismay, with no grain of truth to them. Ethan’s presence excited her, but he never would indulge with those living behind the fence. Whatever woman broke his heart must have been a goddess.

  “You going to be okay, Amie...Private Sanchez?” asks the driver.

  She doesn’t recall his name. He smells of manly sweat and gunpowder. Better since you brought Combeth home with me. Hell, you two boys are willing. Must be the adrenaline to fuel my urges. Combeth would be discrete, and you two would turn me into the camp tart everyone already thinks I am with Ethan. Better to make coffee and soak in a steamy tub.

  “Thanks for the ride.” She slides out of the seat.

  Combeth leaps from the back of the truck bed. “I’ll have to give you guys five stars on Uber.”

  “Funny, Private.” The shirtless guy holds the passenger door open for Sanchez.

  Combeth almost jumps the guy for his slurring of her rank, but considering the day, he says, “Thanks for the ride.” He takes Sanchez’s clothes, neatly folded, from the truck bed. “This baby’s going to need a scrubbing.” He tilts the stack of clothes, displaying her undergarments like a trophy, and nods at the man.

  The truck backs from the driveway.

  “I need a scrub,” Sanchez says.

  “Your offer still stand?” Combeth asks.

  “As long as we start in the shower. I taste nothing but gunpowder, even after my swim.”

  “Anyplace you want.” Combeth reaches out and honks Amie’s breast through the blanket.

  “We’ll have to work on your technique.” She reaches her hand and touches his face. “You have to work your way down—and slow.” She leans in, closes her eyes, parting her lips for a kiss—

  Dartagnan’s screams shatter her moment.

  In the second before her legs propel her to the porch, her brown eyes flutter the “can’t we catch a break” glare.

  Combeth drops her clothes, unslinging his rifle. He checks the magazine on the run.

  Sanchez reaches the door, blankets trailing behind her.

  A dirty man repeatedly slams Emily’s skull into the floor.

  Dartagnan, fetal, screams, his model creation shattered on the floor.

  Combeth tosses her the rifle. She catches the weapon, unbothered by losing the towel. Her finger secures the trigger as she takes aim. Before the man slams Emily’s bloody mass of a head against the wood again, Sanchez sends a bullet through his throat.

  Little blood flows from the hole as he chokes on his own fluids.

  Combeth unsheathes his knife.

  “Let him suffer.”

  “Not a good way to go.” Combeth accepts his rifle.

  Sanchez kneels to check Emily’s pulse. “Get a medical team.”

  Combeth closes the toilet lid to place his towel.

  Sanchez adjusts the water temp in the shower. “I hope you don’t mind scalding.”

  Steam fogs the mirror.

  “Do women take showers any other way?”

  Her eyes flicker as if she were peering over the top of invisible glasses, coming off playful instead of annoyed. “What are you doing over there?”

  “I thought I’d watch you lather up.”

  “Your smile is missing the pedo-stash.”

  He rubs the emerging whiskers on his chin.

  “I need to fuck, not give you a show.” She slides her arm under the pulsating streams of water.

  “I’ve got some ones.”

  “Funny.” She steps under the water. “So you like to watch.”

  “I’ve seen those things bounce inside your uniform forever. Now I yearn for you to soap them.”

  Amie’s nipples harden as she works the lathering bar into her palms. “I’ve never done this for any man.”

  “A woman?”

  “No.” She extends her middle finger. “No interest in it. I like a stiff cock.” She brushes the soap over her coffee-colored areolas. She twists so the water doesn’t wash away the foam.

  “You’re going to get one if you keep rubbing yourself like that.”

  “I noticed. Impressive for a white boy.”

  “I’ll give you impressive.” She allows his firm grip on her hips to turn her to face the wall. He slaps her ass, which releases a playful whine. Combeth presses against her, shoving himself inside her. Sanchez yelps, not ready for the pressure.

  “Slow down, cowboy! I need you to last.”

  “If I don’t, I promise I’ll be ready to do it again—quick.”

  “Don’t pop off inside me.”

  Amie lounges on the bed, not bothering to cover herself. Any hint of hypothermia was worked out during her 5K with Combeth. All Acheron citizens have changed clothes in the sally port. She exposed herself in the middle of the road to prove she was not bitten. Combeth and her have changed clothes in front of each other a dozen times. But in the sally port, they’re professional.

  She’s never noticed much ogling after the first time. A casual glance is to be expected. It’s normal, but no perverted eyeballs. Nudity quickly became no issue among the survivors. A year ago, the whole country shut down over which bathroom people used. In the military, on a hike, you popped a squat. Now, seeing a naked person has no bearing on life issues.

  Combeth sits on the edge of the bed. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

  “It was what I needed.” She draws her big toe down the bumps of his spine.

  “Needed? Does that make me your piece of ass?” he asks.

  “I needed to be with someone who comprehends what I went through. No one else will ever appreciate today, other than someone who was there.”

  “I didn’t think screwing you would bring up emotions. You don’t…it’s not that…I don’t need to cuddle, but…I think we should be causal. I don’t want a girlfriend.”

 
; “You wish to play the field?” She teases, not mentioning how he behaves more like she did after the first few guys she slept with. “I’m flattered you find me attractive. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to date. I wouldn’t mind us fooling around for a while.”

  “Until you get a better offer. Or until Ethan gets back?” Combeth says.

  That was a punch in the tit. “Maybe we should have this conversation tomorrow. After today, we don’t have clear heads,” she says.

  “Not to be emotional. When we’re outside the fence, love makes a person weak.”

  Amie’s sure her mouth hangs open. I didn’t want to marry. But maybe have sex on a regular basis.

  She rubs her big toe against the side of his calf. “You satisfied me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Would there be any doubts?” Macho bravado consumes his smile. “I’ve desired to fuck you.” His admission melts into insecurity. “That day at Orscheln’s. And you were bleeding.” He touches her leg scar. “I thought you were bit. I thought, ‘please, God, don’t force me. I can’t shoot her.’ I can’t shoot you, Amie.”

  “I don’t need you to shoot me.”

  “See, that’s it. We must be able to. If we’re outside the fence, you must be ready to shoot. No hesitation. You cause me to hesitate,” he says.

  “That might be one of the sweetest things a man has ever said to me,” she says.

  “But it will get us killed.”

  “We lived through tens of thousands of undead and a few humans who got over the fence. They would have killed Emily. Hell, I swam the river to escape a herd. And I thought I do a damn good job in the sack.”

  “I didn’t want to get off you, but I can’t shoot you. I mean, isn’t that what we’ve become? Teammates, friends, lovers—executioners.”

  God. Ethan’s reason for never committing, because he worked outside the fence. Does he feel this same way? Is this why he refused to take a lover? Say something. I mean, I care about Ethan. But I did desire a pounding. Living through all that, I needed it. No wonder Ethan said no pregnancies. Wow! I never thought… “Feelings aren’t an issue. I’ve no problem popping you.”