The door slowly opened, and in the darkness, she could make out the silhouette of the young man who had taken care of her.
“Shhhh,” he said, lifting his finger to his lips and shooting a quick glance behind him. “You don’t want to get them riled. I’ll go tell them that you woke up. When they come in, don’t say anything to get them angry.”
“Get THEM angry?” Angela said, her irritation growing. “They’ve got me strapped to a fucking bed!”
The boy didn’t say anything but, “Please,” quietly, as he backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. A few minutes later the door opened again, and three men entered behind the teenage boy, who led the way.
One went to the curtains and yanked them open. Dust puffed out and spread throughout the room, and Angela covered her eyes from the sunlight that suddenly flooded the room.
“Who are you? What do you want with me?” she said, clearly annoyed despite her condition.
One of the men walked to the edge of her bed carrying a shotgun and nudged her side with it. “Why didn’t you turn?”
She recognized his voice as the man who had first approached her in the airfield. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man nudged her again, but this time lifted the gun and pointed it at her head. “I saw you get bit. You should have turned, and yet you’re still talking.”
“No thanks to you,” she said bitterly. “I’m lucky I didn’t die. Some kind of bedside manner you’ve got.”
The man shook his head, keeping the gun pointed at her head. “You think I’m some fucking doctor? The only thing that kept me from having my way with you was fear that you’d turn. Now that I know you won’t, it might be time to have some fun.”
One of the other men snickered at the comment, and Angela felt something funny happen inside her.
“I’ll ask you again. Why didn’t you turn?”
“I don’t know,” answered Angela. “I just don’t know.”
The man lowered the shotgun and stared at her for the longest time. “If you’re trying to tell me you’re immune, we’re gonna have to figure out what makes you that way.”
The other two men began whispering to themselves as Angela pulled again at her restraints. “I’m not immune. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Feeling her anger building, she tugged at the ropes harder. “Untie me so I can go pee.”
The man turned and nodded towards the teenager, who she could see clearer now. He was in his mid-teens, maybe seventeen, and had a boyish look to him. The rest looked to be in their forties, and rough. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of this situation.
“Go ahead. Untie her and let her go squirt. If she tries to run, shoot her.”
The boy moved nervously towards her bed, avoiding eye contact with both the man and Angela, where he pulled out a knife and started sawing through the ropes closest the bed posts.
The men began walking back towards the open door, except for the boy, who was still working on the ropes. The man who had done all the speaking stopped when he reached it, turned around, and addressed Angela. “You’re gonna tell us what we want to know.” He turned his gaze towards the teenager. “Tie her back up once she’s done.”
Once they’d left, Angela started speaking to the boy in whispers. “Please, just let me go. You could just say I took off.”
The boy didn’t look at her. “They’d kill me.”
“What’s your name?”
He looked up at her. “Zane. I’m sorry, I can’t let you go.” He looked back down and cut the last rope holding her right leg before moving back and showing her the gun. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
Angela thought about rushing him, but as soon as she tried to stand, she realized just how weak she had become. She could barely hold her own weight and sat back on the bed. “Damn.” She took a few deep breaths and stood again, her legs wobbly, and moved slowly forward. “Why did you help me?” she asked, locking eyes with Zane.
“I couldn’t just let you die.”
“What would happen if they found out you gave me those antibiotics?”
“They wouldn’t be happy.”
“Well then, maybe I should tell them,” she said as she grabbed the dresser to steady herself.
Zane’s mouth dropped open. “Why would you do that?”
“They’re either going to rape me, kill me, or cut me open. Why the hell shouldn’t I?”
Zane started getting fidgety. “Because I tried to save your life. If it was up to them, they would have just let you die. If you say anything about what I did, then they’ll kill me.”
“Yeah, and then we’ll both die. Stand up and be a man.”
“That’s messed up.”
“No, what’s messed up is you acting like some pussy to guys that would kill you in a second.”
“Yeah,” Zane said, nodding his head dramatically. “That’s why I don’t stand up. Don’t you get it?”
“How many bullets you got in that gun?”
Zane’s eye twitched but he stayed silent.
“How many?”
Growing tired of the game, Angela pushed off the dresser, snatching the gun out of his hand. She glanced at him before popping out the magazine. “None. Just brilliant. Does anyone have any bullets?”
“The others.”
“So why are you carrying a gun with no bullets?”
“I almost shot Jeff by accident.”
“Which one’s Jeff?”
“The one that was talking to you.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “So, you’re such a moron you almost shot your leader and now you’re completely reliant on them for everything. Does that pretty much cover it?”
Lowering his eyes to the floor, Zane held his hand out. “Could I get my gun back?”
Angela looked around quickly and decided to risk information. “There is a compound a couple of miles from here. A safe zone. If we can get out of here and away from them, we could be having a hot meal and a shower in no time.”
Zane’s mouth dropped open again. “What?”
“Yes, you are all so moronic you somehow missed the two mile compound just down the road.” Angela felt her blood pressure rising, and it somehow made her feel horny.
She leaned in closer and whispered, “Do you know how we can get away without them knowing?”
She could see a light emerge in Zane’s eyes, and she felt hopeful they might be able to escape.
She could hear footsteps in the hallway and said, “Shit, help me get back in bed.” She handed Zane the gun back. “Here, take this.” She crawled back in bed and got under the filthy covers, disgusted by the crud all over it.
“Well? You find out anything?” Jeff said as he entered the room.
“They’ve got a compound a couple of miles from here,” said Zane, shooting a nervous glance at Angela.
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I got played by this retard?” Angela rolled her eyes, feeling hope sink. “Now what?”
“Now we have some fun with you,” Jeff said. “Then you tell everything.”
The anger Angela felt ballooned into a sense of outrage, and she yelled out, “When this is all over I am going to cut your pecker off, you know that?”
Jeff chuckled as he took off his belt. “I have different ideas about what you’ll be doing.”
“I’ve got great skills with a paring knife. Trust me, you’ll wish you hadn’t done this.”
Turning towards Zane, Jeff said, “Out. You’ll get your turn later.” He moved towards the bed.
Despite her weakness, Angela still had some fight in her. She stood up, waiting to fight for every last inch. The odd thing was the angrier she got, the more excited it made her feel.
~~~
Back at the compound, the search for Angela was officially called off. Knowing how badly Shawn would take the news, Bo had invited him and Mace over for a drink. Shawn had been fervently searching for her every day.
It had taken an additional
three hours after Shawn first reported her missing for them to discover that she had actually left the compound. Jim, who was beside himself for not reporting her behavior at the time of her departure, made sure he was part of the initial search. The first place they looked was the airfield, thinking she might have returned for payback.
“Mace, check this out,” said Shawn on the first day of the search, as he bent down on one knee to look closely at a knife stuck in the head of a dead infected. Peering up at Mace, who was walking up quickly, Shawn looked rattled. “It’s Angela’s. That’s an ox-bone handle. I’d know that knife anywhere.”
“Shit,” replied Mace, as he scanned the area. “She came back to finish them off.”
Shawn put his hand against the infected’s head, yanking the knife free. He wiped it on its tattered clothes and then tucked it in his belt as he stood back up. “She’ll want that back.” Looking at the dead infected, Mace could see the worry on his face. “Hand to hand combat,” Shawn said, his voice a bit shaky. “Damn, what the hell happened to her?”
“I don’t know.” Lost in thought, Mace was recalling the terror in her eyes as they’d run towards the airport tower. “It looks like she got them all. At least we know she’s been here.”
The search continued daily. There was no trace of her. On the sixth day, however, they came within a quarter mile of the house where she was being held. A six-man search team was going door-to-door when they kicked in a door to find an assembly of old and decomposing infected feasting on the body of a small child. After lighting up the room with gunfire, they called off the search. It was just too dangerous and sickening to continue, especially without anything more to go on.
Sitting in Bo’s living room, Bo poured out three shots of Manny’s special brew, made from the compound still. Manny had been a good friend of Bo’s who had perished in the mutant zombie attack months earlier.
Handing the glasses to Shawn and Mace, Bo lifted his glass. “I guess you know why I’ve called you here?”
“You’re calling off the search,” replied Shawn without emotion, taking the glass. “I get it. It’s okay.”
Bo slowly lifted his glass and the others followed. “I’m sorry, Shawn, really. She was my friend as well.” He lifted the glass higher, looked at the ceiling, and said, “To Angela, a good friend and soldier. I hope she still somehow makes it back.”
“Amen,” said Shawn.
“To Angela,” replied Mace.
They all shot down the brew, grimacing as the fiery liquid traveled down their throats. Shawn gasped as it burned, his eyes watering as he tried to overcome the effects. “Holy shit,” he croaked. “It’s gasoline!”
Bo’s eyes had already taken on a coat of gloss. “You saying you didn’t taste the apples?” he laughed hoarsely.
Shaking his head to get past the effects, Mace whispered through the burn, “I don’t know how you get used to it.” He wiped his watering eyes with the back of his hand.
As the numbness spread, Shawn relaxed for the first time in a week. “Let’s have one more. For Angela.”
“Oh shit,” said Mace. “This is how it starts.”
Bo wasted no time, retrieving the bottle of hooch and refilling the glasses. “I haven’t tied a good one on in a while. I’d say we’re overdue.”
“I feel like getting hammered,” replied Shawn, taking the glass and shooting it straight down. His face contorted again, but this time he recovered faster. He slammed the shot glass down and nodded to Bo for more. “I forgot to toast,” he said gruffly, his eyes growing glossy and his speech developing the hint of a slur.
Bo refilled the glass and Shawn lifted it, waiting for the others to follow suit. “I loved her, you know. I thought about having kids with her.”
Bo and Mace stayed quiet, sobered by the depth of feelings behind the declaration.
“To Angela,” said Bo, staring with empathy at Shawn. Mace seconded the motion and said, “May she come back home.” They all emptied their glasses.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The bus rolled down Hwy 65 at over 50 miles an hour. Inside, the talk and chatter was at a fever pitch.
“How do we know what to do once we get there?”
“It’s a place with grownups. They’ll try to control us!”
“Maybe they’ll take care of us like Jacqueline.”
“No, they’ll think we killed her.”
“They’re gonna want to kill us!”
The discussions continued for miles until Woody shouted for everyone to be quiet. Slowing the bus down, he finally stopped it in the middle of the abandoned freeway. He stood, turned, and faced them. He had been plotting the best plan for their survival ever since they’d left. “We’re going to find the place that Jacqueline told us about. When we get there, we are going to tell them that Jacqueline got sick and told us to go there before she died. We’re going to act like good children. We’re not going to talk back.” A mischievous smile appeared, and he started getting more animated. “Then, when they think we are good little children who are going to do whatever they want, we’re going to take the whole place over.”
A few kids cheered, getting excited at the thought of it.
“Jacqueline took the time to understand us. She knew who we are, and she didn’t treat us like little kids. We’re not going to go to some place where they push us around and we’re just expected to do what we’re told.” Woody smiled as he thought about Jacqueline’s words to them. “We are survivors. That’s what Jacqueline always said. We are also soldiers. And once we get there, we’re going to make a brand new Neverland.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Angela wanted to die. It wasn’t so much what Jeff had done to her but what she’d felt during it that made her feel so dirty and disgusted. There had been a part of her that enjoyed it. She couldn’t fathom that fact, and she sure as hell couldn’t live with it.
The fear and anger that had surged through her during the fight with Jeff had turned to something else, and she’d actually experienced orgasms during his violation. She’d bitten her lip to keep him from knowing, and she swore that she would kill him for it. She’d have her vengeance, and then she’d take her own life.
As much as she wanted to cry, she turned the pain inwards and allowed it to make her harder. Fifteen minutes after Jeff left her room, Zane crept in quietly, shutting the door silently behind him. She cringed as he approached her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Fuck you, retard.”
“You don’t understand. Jeff would have killed me if I didn’t do what he said.”
“I offered you a way out, remember? You fucked me over. Get lost.” Angela rolled over and winced, the pain from the welts against her skin fresh. Jeff had whipped her repeatedly with the belt buckle.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” he whispered.
“Yeah, get me a gun and a bigger gun.” She rolled back over and stared at his form in the darkness. “Where are the others?” she asked bitterly. “Aren’t they going to take their turn?”
“Jeff said he wants you for himself.”
“So, you’re all a bunch of pussy retards.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know him.”
“What I do know is that there is a safe zone a few miles from here where you idiots could be comfortable and safe if you had any balls. I will die before I will tell you anything more as long as Jeff is alive, and if you think you’ve got a shot of getting in there without me, you’re delusional. There’s a trained army that will be all over your shit once they find out who and what you are.”
“I don’t want to keep living this way,” Zane whispered, appearing almost despondent. “You don’t know what it’s like. He hurts me. In many ways.” He lifted his head, but it was too dark to see the expression on his face.
“I don’t trust you, and I want you to leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Is there really a safe zone close by
?”
“Not without me, there’s not.”
After Zane left, Angela stared long and hard into the darkness above her, and in the blackness, she could see strange images floating across her line of vision. Her thoughts were a disturbing mix of paranoia, anger, and lust. The toxin, while not fully active in her system, still disrupted her cerebal cortex and increased the activity of circuit neurons in her prefontal cortex.
In her mind, she could see the compound. As it materialized in the darkness above her, bitterness began to invade her mind like a cancer spreading its diseased cells throughout her body. The compound had been her home, but it had abandoned her.
She had no idea how long she’d been here, but surely they must have known she had left. No one came looking for her.
She felt ill as her thoughts turned to Shawn. He had abandoned her as well. She had fallen in love with him, and he had let her be assaulted and raped. Worse, he had been one of the newcomers: The ones responsible for bringing the antidote. If it hadn’t been for that damned antidote, she’d at least be dead right now or walking around not knowing any better. Anything was better than what she felt about herself now.
All of a sudden she remembered Jason: the perfect child. The perfect cure. Her mind turned from thoughts of bitterness to thoughts of hope and revenge. If she could get her hands on him, maybe he could cure what the antidote had done to her. At the same time, it would be payment for what they had done. They had made her unclean. They had left a part of her infected. And they needed to pay for that. Every last one.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Woody pulled the bus to the side of the freeway. He was the only kid still awake and was starting to nod off himself. It was the middle of the night with nothing but open space around them. As he set the parking brake and rested his head back, he started dozing almost immediately. In the darkness, beyond the scope of the bus headlights, infected roamed aimlessly.
The map on the side of the bus glowed deep into the night, and the walking dead altered their random wandering to zero in on the source of light. Like moths attracted to a glowing bulb, they rustled through the dead grass, shambling slowly towards the sleeping children. Unaware of the presence of living flesh, the deep craving of their being was about to be ignited.
Children of the Apocalypse (Mace of the Apocalypse #3) Page 9
