Eternal Rains: A Dystopian Trilogy (BOUND Book 1)

by Doug McGovern

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  Chapter 20

  A shooting pain behind my eyelids stirs me. As I am thrown further into consciousness, the pain becomes nearly overwhelming and I force my eyes open and attempt to bring my hands to my temples, but they are tethered and unable to move. My body feels almost numb from my lack of consciousness, but with each heartbeat pounding through my skull, my body loses another inch of numbness, and before long, each of my aches and pains is prominent throughout my entire body.

  I attempt to pull my hands free from their restraints, but my luck runs short. I am dangling from my arms and I swing my feet to find the floor. The tips of my toes can hardly brush it. The pain in my wrists is excruciating, but the pain in my head is worse. It’s like when I was a kid and I lost my first tooth. My mom told me to pinch my arm and it would distract me from the pain in my gums. I didn’t believe her until it worked.

  But this is much more serious than a lost tooth and a pinch to the arm. I groan and plant the tips of my toes on the ground, attempting to relieve my arms from holding my entire body weight for however long I’ve been here. I squint my eyes and try to see through the darkness to determine where I am being held. I look at the floor first, and the immense concentration causes my head to pound much more prolifically than before.

  But I look down at myself and my pain is forgotten for the briefest moment. Not only am I tethered to an unknown object above me and suffering from a possible concussion, bloody feet, and tired arms, but my body is nearly completely stripped of clothing. I am left in only my ragged sports bra and equally unflattering panties.

  I look at my bare feet. If I would have put on my new boots, would they have been stripped from my body, as well?

  It takes me a moment to look at my wrist in fear. In the darkness, I can’t see anything, including my own wrist, but I need to be sure that my bracelet is still there. My bracelet that matches Charlie’s is one of the most important things that I have kept. It must be here. I concentrate on my wrist with all my might and attempt to ignore the caustic pain of the binds tearing into my skin, but I can’t feel the bracelet.

  “They took off all of our clothes, too.” My heart jumps in my chest and I squint through the darkness and search for the voice that came from my close left. It almost sounds like the girl is right beside me. “Don’t strain yourself to see. Your eyes will adjust to the darkness in a few minutes.”

  I take her advice and stare into what feels like nothingness. My headache doesn’t wane and I recognize the feeling from a concussion I had months ago, but the combination of darkness and my lack of focus quells the nausea that sits in the back of my throat. “Where are we,” I whisper.

  “I assume we’re in a basement or cellar. The pipes are metal and there aren’t any windows. From what I can tell, there is one door and it’s behind us. There are boxes all over the ground and he has to walk down stairs to reach us.” Her voice, a high-pitched, squeaky tone, is similar to that of a shy girl. She’s quiet, but her tone holds an absolute firmness that evokes trust.

  “Mary, your observation skills won’t help you in this situation,” another voice adds. Hers is firm and loud, much like that of a cheerleader. How many people are in this room? And how did I get lucky enough to come across two other women when it seems like our gender is nearly extinct?

  “My ‘observation skills’ have kept us alive this long,” she says in an irritated tone. “And it’s better than standing there helpless like some of us. When we get out of here, would you have known where to go if it weren’t for me?” I can sense the tension in the air and it feels almost familiar.

  “Are you sisters?” I ask absentmindedly. Charlie and I got into pointless arguments constantly when we were together.

  “Yes,” they shout simultaneously.

  “Who are these people?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I refocus my sight once again. My head throbs, but my eyes are finally able to adjust to the darkness of the room. “And why are they taking us?”

  The sisters silence and the tension in the room dissipates. “You don’t want to know that,” Mary’s sister says.

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

  “Janelle, we have to tell her,” Mary whispers. “She’s in the same situation as the rest of us.”

  “The rest of us?” I ask. “How many people are in here?” I ask, trying to look beyond the sisters. Another form protrudes from the darkness and I struggle to make out more than an outline.

  “Four,” Mary says without consent from her sister. “Janelle and I have been here the longest and there was a guy here before us. They took him and he never came back. Janelle and I are next. This guy came in right after you and I don’t think he’s conscious yet.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and my original question becomes significantly less important than the revelation that Hayden may be trapped as well. “Hayden,” I whisper, squinting at the figure surrounded by darkness. “Hayden,” I say louder. The odds that it is a man other than Hayden are slim and I go slack. I felt like Hayden was our last hope, but if he’s trapped as well…

  “Did you come here with him?” Janelle asks.

  I nod before realizing that she won’t be able to see me. “I did.”

  The words drift in the air between us, long forgotten with the sound of an opening door. The stairs behind us groan beneath a massive weight and while I’m tempted to look into the light, I instead turn to the man I assume to be Hayden. I peer around Mary and Janelle, who are dangling between us, but with a single glance, I realize that he is not Hayden—not by a long shot.

  I want to jump in glee, but my toes that barely skim the floor deter me from doing such a strenuous activity. “Who are you?” I ask. Everyone else’s silence causes me to question my words, but the advancing footfall is nerve racking and I need a distraction. Speaking seems to be my only option. “Why did you take us?”

  I don’t receive a verbal reply and I remain facing the other direction. The shadow of the man reflects on the far wall of the basement and grows until it overtakes mine completely. I feel him behind me in such a proximity that I shudder. The bareness of my skin is causing me significant discomfort as I watch the man’s shadowed head move up and down, considering my entire body. There isn’t much to me. The malnourishment and continuous walking has stripped my body of unnecessary bulk and maintained only the most intrinsic muscles.

  When the shadow moves between Mary and Janelle’s bodies, I nearly sigh in relief. If I were fully clothed, I wouldn’t feel so undefended. I twist my head toward the man when a grunt echoes from between his lips. He has just made his decision and I can’t do anything to stop him.

  “Who are you?” I shout once again, trying to draw his attention from the innocent girl quivering before him. His attention does not waver as he reaches for Janelle’s wrists as she thrashes around, attempting to put some distance between herself and the man. “Hey,” I shout. “Let her go.”

  My voice is lost in his ears and I try my best to jerk free of my binds, but with the inability to lever my feet on the ground, I can hardly move. “Janelle,” Mary shouts. She is thrashing as violently as her sister, but nothing can be done. “Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy. I told you about this,” Mary shouts. “He’s going mad and you can’t reason with him. He can’t balance. Throw him off balance. His left leg is twitching and he’s been shaking since he came downstairs. He could have an early form of prion disease.”

  Mary continues shouting useless information at her sister as if it will help her survive against the monster. I am unable to decipher any of it or understand what she is explaining, but Mary knows exactly what she is talking about. Her sister is drug from the room slowly and fights every step of the way. “Mary,” I try to shout.

  “—prion disease degrades neuron functions and makes it difficult for him to understand what he’s doing. His basic instincts to eat and sleep are the driving factors of his life right now,” Mary continues ranting. Her
focus is elsewhere, but she doesn’t stop.

  “Mary,” I scream. She stops talking and instead of words flowing from her mouth, tears begin streaming down her cheeks.

  “He’s going to eat her. He’s going to kill her and eat her,” Mary bawls. I want nothing more than to comfort her until her words process through my mind.

  He’s going to eat her.

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  Chapter 21

  It has been silent since we heard the scream.

  I’ve been so concerned about everything else around me, I have yet to check my wrist for my bracelet. I look upward and attempt to focus my eyes on my wrist. Is it there? I look upward and finally notice an object tied around my left wrist other than the bind. Upon further examination, I realize that it’s my bracelet. I take a deep breath and relax my tense muscles.

  As we sit in the silence of the damp basement, wondering if we will suffer the same fate as many before us, I can’t bring myself to imagine if I lost Charlie in the same way that Mary had just lost her sister. I would rather die than watch my sister be in this situation and I question if Mary feels the same way. “She may not be dead,” I had said before the scream. Once it echoed through the home, I no longer held the hope for her sister’s survival.

  I allow myself to swing back and forth as I dangle from the pipe. My arms are painfully numb, but the longer I hang, the less I feel them. After a few days, will I be able to use my arms again? Movement from the other side of the pipe catches my ear and I turn toward the boy who has been unconscious through everything.

  It takes him a moment to come to the realization that he is in an awful situation, but once he does, he jerks around in the same way that I once had. “Don’t bother,” I tell him gently. “You won’t get out of these.”

  “Where—”

  “You’re in a basement with two girls. Don’t worry about your sight right now. Your eyes will adjust to the darkness,” I say. Mary and Janelle had helped me through this, but neither are in any condition to help this boy.

  “How did I get here? I was just walking down the interstate,” he says. Something in his tone causes my blood to pump through my chest at an alarming rate and question the credibility of his story. His words sound so vulnerable, but he doesn’t. I can’t decide what is wrong, but something isn’t right.

  “Why were you walking?”

  He clears his throat. “I was just passing through. I was heading East. I heard that there is a town in West Virginia that didn’t suffer from the rains or the sickness. They are healthy and they survived. It’s my last chance.” His voice deepens when he finishes his statement and I want to shout that he’s being stupid and walking into the danger headfirst. I want to call him a liar and question each piece of his story, but I don’t. He’s in the same situation as me, and he will likely die alongside everyone else who has ever been brought into this house.

  “What’s your name?” I find myself asking.

  “Ross.”

  “Well Ross, you’re not going to make it to West Virginia,” I admit. “As of right now, you’re food to these people.” I pray that Hayden will find us before the man comes back for another meal, but I find it unlikely. In this entire town, what are the odds that he will check this house?

  I expect another comment from the man, but he doesn’t say a word. Mary dangles in between us, sniffling every few seconds and wiping her tears on her bare arm. I’m sure it’s doing nothing but smearing the tears across her face, but she deserves a time to grieve. It’s only a matter of time before she’ll need to fight to survive.

  A loud crash erupts from an upper floor of the house and we each jerk backward. I know that the same thought that’s running through my mind has also embedded itself into Mary’s. Is Janelle still alive and fighting back?

  Another crash echoes through the basement, but closer this time. “Hello,” I shout. My voice is groveling and it burns my throat to speak above a certain volume, but if I catch someone’s attention, we may get out of here—whether it be Janelle, another stranger, or Hayden.

  I hope it is not Hayden. I don’t want him involved in this mess along with us. “Hey, come help us,” Mary shouts. Unlike my dry voice, hers is wet with tears. Together, we all three shout to whoever is making a ruckus on the floor above ours. It feels like hours but it’s only been minutes. My throat is sore and achy and I refuse to stop screaming until we’re acknowledged.

  The basement door cracks.

  It’s not the squeaking sound that caught our attention. In fact, with all our screaming, a bowling ball could be thrown down the steps and it would be difficult to hear it crash. It’s the sliver of light that shines on the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Once acclimating to darkness, even the smallest tendril of light is easily detectable.

  We fall silent and watch as the cracked door swings open fully. Craning my neck is uncomfortable, but curiosity has overtaken my reasoning skills. I need to know who eases down the stairs, but I don’t need to see the person to know the dexterous footfall as it comes in my direction.

  “Hayden,” I whisper, knowing without a doubt that it’s him. I can feel his presence as he nears me. And I can feel his anger as it rolls from him in waves, but it doesn’t deter my comfort. It doesn’t matter if he’s angry at me for being captured or at the people who took me, but it’s evident that he is far from happy.

  “What did they do to you?” He asks. I feel him wrap an arm around my bare waist and pull at the binds with his free hand. My heart sinks with the knowledge that he won’t be able to free me, but with a simple flick of his wrist, the rope snaps and I feel myself falling, unable to hold my own body weight.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him, though I have a hard time believing my own words. “I’m okay.”

  I peel the broken restraints from my wrists and rub the raw skin, though it doesn’t do much to relieve the burns. It merely reduces the pressure of my bones grinding against one another as they hold the entirety of my body weight from the ground. “I asked what they did to you,” Hayden says. It’s too dark to see his expression, but as he grabs the bottom of my chin and crouches in front of me, pulling my face to look into his shaded eyes, I can only imagine the firmness of his jawline and hardened expression of his face.

  “I don’t know. I woke up tied to the pole and… stripped,” I admit. I pull my legs to my chest and attempt to hide from his view, though it’s unlikely that he can see anything in the darkness. His hand tightens on my chin before pulling away with a violent jerk. “Please untie them,” I beg Hayden.

  I am too weak to stand without assistance, let alone untie intricate knots made by skilled killers. Without question, Hayden feels around the darkness until feeling Mary. She jerks away from his touch with a small squeak. “Trust him. He won’t hurt you,” I say to her. She stiffens, but allows him to do the same maneuver with her has he had done to me. He sits her on the ground just as he had me.

  I stare at the rope around her wrists and find myself reaching for it without much thought. It’s thick—almost as thick as my wrist—and Hayden had broken it as if it was a piece of string. “How?” I whisper under my breath. Mary doesn’t notice the thickness of our restraints and I don’t mention them out loud, but it shouldn’t be possible for his to so easily break this rope.

  He makes his way back in my direction after releasing Ross. Unlike Mary and me, he hadn’t been so gentle, but I don’t dare scold him after everything he has done. “We need to go,” Hayden says firmly. A shudder runs down my spine at the tone of his voice. The message in his tone is clear: we may not be bound, but we are far from safe. “Can you walk?” He asks.

  “I can,” I say. Mary nods her head hesitantly. I bring myself to my feet and take a deep breath. There is so much pain in my body that it all feel numb, but that doesn’t make walking simple. I allow Mary to anchor herself to my arm and pull herself to her feet. Her arms fall slack at her sides, rendering themselves useless. Mine ache and tingle but are more than usable. Ross is somehow
able to walk as confidently and quickly as Hayden, which draws uncertainty.

  We follow Hayden to the steps and he stops when there is enough light to see one another’s faces. He pulls my Glock from his waistband and pushes it into my hand along with keys. “The car is right outside. Shoot anything that comes toward you and leave if I’m not back in ten minutes. Find your sister, Jo Leigh.” I nod my head and grasp the keys and my gun.

  “Follow me,” I say to Mary and Ross before shoving the basement door open, gun drawn and ready to fire. In my last glance at Hayden, I notice him smiling at me, and despite all that is happening, I want nothing more than to stay with him.

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  Chapter 22

  Ten, nine, eight… I count down in my head as Hayden runs closer to expiring his ten minutes.

  Seven, six… If he isn’t out, I have to leave him. My sister will be caught in the crossfire if I don’t leave immediately. She’s the most important thing in my life and I must remember that.

  Five, four, three… If I don’t see him in three seconds, I should put the car in drive and leave. It doesn’t matter what he has done for me. We made it out of that house without a shot fired and I am not going back inside.

  Two… How does he expect me to leave him?

  One… I place my hand on the transmission and my foot on the break. I grip them tightly and will myself to put the car into drive.

  Zero… I remove my hand from the transmission and grab the door handle instead. “Wait here. Don’t leave me until you have no other choice, but keep yourselves safe,” I say to Ross and Mary as they sit in the backseat of the car. “I’ll be back.”

  I grip the handle of my Glock in my hand and make sure that there is a bullet in the barrel of the weapon. I slam the car door shut and prowl around the house, looking for an ulterior entrance. If they have Hayden incapacitated and expect me to return for him, I won’t walk back in through the front door. I instead enter through an opened window along the side of the house.