by K. Webster
The name Emily was on one of the graves before I stepped into this fucking nightmare.
“Being chosen is the highest honor,” she clips out as if his words are blasphemous.
He growls and snatches both of her biceps. “You’re not getting chosen. A man can only wait so long to fulfill certain needs. It’s high time I’m allowed those needs.”
She gapes at him and confusion is written all over her face. “Jude, I don’t understand.”
The man yanks her to him and smashes his mouth to hers. I’m already sitting up, fighting the stars that dance in my vision as I attempt to stop the man from mauling her. Everything grows black so I lie back, only being privy to their voices.
“I ought to take you right now, Willow. It would ensure your place as my wife and you’d be out of the runnings for the ceremony,” he murmurs in a menacing tone. “I believe your body is tighter than my hand could ever squeeze. I bet with every thrust into you, your sex would milk my erection, much like I watch you milk your cow, Bertha. My seed would impregnate you the moment it coats your perfect body from the inside.”
She gasps and I itch to help her. “Jude, you are despicable. Leave my presence before I scream for my father and tell him everything.”
The man laughs coldly at her. “And believe some naïve child? They’ll blame Jordy for placing impure thoughts into that head of yours. I can assure you, wife, they will never believe you.”
I’m able to focus on them again as the darkness dribbles away. His stance is that of a lion about to devour his prey. But Willow is fierce and with a fury never before seen on her pretty face, she slaps him across the cheek. The room freezes for a moment and I realize this is the moment I’m going to have to heave myself out of this bed and kill him. I’m readying myself to do just that when the door flies open again.
“Willow. Jude.” The voice is tight and angry. “I heard a commotion and thought to check on things.”
Willow’s voice quivers. “Jordy, you shouldn’t be here. Alice is contagious. I can’t have you growing ill.”
Jude turns toward the man that isn’t much older than me. “Keep the impure thoughts out of her head or I’ll see to it that the council punishes you accordingly. She’s to be my wife and I won’t have you tainting her with your treasures you find from The Farrow.”
The two men standoff for a moment before Jude stomps out of the building. After a moment of silence, Jordy storms over to Willow and gathers her in his arms. I’m thankful he arrived to get the handsy motherfucker away from her.
“My beautiful ray of sunshine,” he murmurs into her hair. “It’s not true. We both know the matching happens the day after the ceremony. You’re safe from him until then.”
She sags in his arms and begins to cry. “I hate him!”
He strokes her hair and hugs her to him. “Hate is a strong word, Wil. You know our people frown upon feelings that cloud judgment and confuse a person.”
“I would rather die than marry him,” she tells him with a sniff of the air.
His eyes wash over her tearstained face in an adoring way that sends a pang of jealousy knifing its way through my chest.
“And I would die if you died. I love you and won’t let him take you from me. We’ll leave and take our chances in The Farrow if we must.”
I watch with disgust as his face descends upon hers and he brushes her lips with a soft kiss. She seems to melt in his arms and it ruins any chance of me seducing the girl into freeing me from this shithole.
“Love is a strong word too, Jordy,” she whispers after their kiss.
His thumbs swipe away her tears. “That’s why we should be matched. Our hearts beat stronger than any other two in this village. Without you, the green of the grass would be faded. The orange of the sunset would be dull. The chill of the winter winds would be colder. Despite what the council agrees upon, we both know in our hearts we belong together. I swear to you, Willow, that I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
ABOUT THIS STORY:
Wanda Willis was made for reality TV…but is reality TV ready for weird Wanda?
Skip to Track 6
Intro…
Dearest Reality Television Producer,
Hello. I’m Wanda Willis. As much as this pains me to say it, I am not in fact, related to Bruce Willis. Hold your tears. I am, however, the twenty-six year old daughter of Charles and Yvonne Willis. They’re famous in their own rite—talk show hosts on our most watched local news show in Piedmont, Oklahoma.
Before you cast my application for your show aside based on the sole fact of where I’m from, take time to consider these bullet points that make me an excellent candidate for TV, especially your program.
I’m cute. At least that’s what the men here in Dallas say! (Yes, I left that Podunk town in Oklahoma…I should get extra points for that). I’m kind of like Carey Underwood’s less beautiful cousin…but still cute. Totally TV worthy.
I am one of the most resourceful women you’ll ever meet. Put me in a show about living in a house for three months to become the last one standing and I’ll rock your socks off. I’m like the Godfather of Gossip. You can guarantee I’ll shake things up and watch the pieces fall where they may. This fact can be confirmed with my high school principal and also my prior boss from when I had a brief stint at Denny’s.
When I get hungry, I’m kind of a bitch. My best friend claims I become “hangry.” That shit makes for excellent reality TV since you people find it hilarious to starve your contestants.
I love to travel and wish I could do more of it. My job is flexible, meaning I can go whenever, wherever, and for however long. I’m kind of perfect in that sense.
Well, hell, there are just too many bullet points to name which is why I also included a video titled, “More on Wanda.” My Marilyn Monroe impression singing “Happy Birthday Mr. President” is spot on. I left that part for the end as a little present for you.
This concludes my cover letter to my application. I do hope you consider me for your show. If not, be prepared for more letters and videos because I’m a persistent bitch. Just sayin’.
Sincerely,
Wanda Willis
Six months later…
I did it. After two years of annoying every reality television producer I could find on the internet, I finally made it onto a show. They’re calling it something top secret but I’m excited nonetheless. They also told me to pack light.
I pull my small bag closer to my body as we bounce down a small road.
ABOUT THIS STORY:
When an infection spreads like wildfire throughout the world causing people to become violent and unhinged, an unlikely duo are paired together. A former spoiled child television star turned adult actress and a military man just home from Afghanistan join forces to survive against a terrifying evolution of a new world.
Will there be room for love between this untraditional match of two people?
Will they even live long enough to find out?
Skip to Track 7
Day One
The injection
Subject A:
0905: Subject was intravenously given NSAN3 Flu serum.
0907: Injection site is red and swollen but subject remains normal.
0914: Subject begins coughing uncontrollably and spits up blood.
0918: Subject coughs to the point of vomiting. This vomit is nothing but thick blood.
0924: Subject demands to cease testing and wants medical attention.
0933: Subject assaults nurse Callahan whom attempts to inject the subject with sedative and must be physically restrained.
0947: Subject snaps ankle straps and kicks Dr. White in face while nurse Callahan attempts to inject the subject.
0952: Subject is finally injected with sedative.
1001: Subject responds negatively to sedative and convulses on table.
1011: Nurse Callahan slits subject A’S throat with scalpel. Subject A bleeds out and is DOA.
1
018: Nurse Callahan is physically restrained and is now referred to as Subject B.
1020:Subject B begins same uncontrollable coughing fit as Subject A and now vomits blood as well.
1027: Subject B snaps both wrist and ankle restraints.
1029: Subject B assaults and kills three medical personnel.
1031: Subject B escapes.
Chapter 1
Giovanna Allman
Three months. Three fucking months I have sat my ass in my humongous house as I wait for Richie to return. Richie is my bodyguard. Richie is fired.
“Princess, are you hungry?” I purr to my sweet little Pomeranian.
Princess yaps and runs circles around my feet. I love my sweet pup. She goes everywhere I go. Although lately, the only place I go is to my pool. I haven’t been outside of the gates of my house in three fucking months.
“Gio, I’ll be back. I need to check on Stephanie and the kids. I’m not sure what the hell is going on but you need to stay inside. Keep the curtains drawn and the doors locked. Do not let anyone but me in. I’ll come back as soon as I know things are safe.”
Three months later, I’m still sitting in my home, bored as fuck. Every single one of my staff left me to check on their families. Three weeks after Richie left, I lost electricity. Life has been rough from the moment my bodyguard walked out my front door. In the back of my mind, I know they’re never coming back.
“Princess, we’re out of dog food but I know you love crumpets,” I chirp in a British accent. She yaps in agreement. The British dialect is second nature to me. At fourteen, on television, I played a character on the show, Sassy Frassy in Tallahassee. It was a show on the Disney channel about a British teen trying to fit in at a Florida high school. When the show was cancelled after a five year run, HBO picked me up to play a college female that ran a prostitution ring called, Madam R. Four seasons and an Oscar later, I am one of the highest paid and sought after women in Hollywood. Madam R is a hit and solidified my stardom. That show pays my bills. Well, it was a show.
Who the hell knows now.
“It’s their loss,” I tell her as I toss her a stale cookie from the pantry. I try not to think about the fact that my super stocked pantry has dwindled more and more each day. I’m not sure what I’ll do when the last of it is gone. I might have to open the cans but without electricity to use the can opener, I’m not sure how to get them open.
Princess yaps happily and proceeds to munch on her cookie.
I pick up my cell phone from the counter and stare at it. For a woman that has relied heavily on her phone for her career, not having the daily access to people, Twitter, my agent, and everything else I used to look at has been incredibly difficult. I also miss my boyfriend.
James Locke is Beverly Hills’ most notorious bad boy socialite. His father was the creator of Locke Technologies. They’ve created products that have nearly put Apple out of business. James will never have to work a day in his life. I caught his eye on the red carpet at the fourth season premiere of Madame R and we’ve dated ever since. When I wasn’t on set, we spent our time fucking and partying. There was never a dull moment.
Now, every day is as dull as hell.
“Princess, are you ready for a swim?”
My sweet dog loves sunning by the pool and barks as she hauls ass to the back door. I ignore the grumble in my belly as I snatch up an old magazine off the counter. I’m really going to have to figure out how to open those cans. I’ve eaten everything that is perishable except the stale cookies I’ve been feeding Princess. Living off crackers, chips, and other bullshit has not helped with my figure. Once this all blows over, I’ll hire a nutritionist to restock my pantry so I can get my body back in shape. I’m pretty sure I’ve gained a little weight which is not acceptable in my industry.
Sliding open the door, I try not to trip on my pup as she scampers through the opening. Today is a beautiful day—perfect for getting a tan. I walk over to my lawn chair and pull off my cover up, revealing my red shred of a bikini. James loved this swimsuit and always pulled on the strings to get a sneak peek at my tits. God I miss him.
I sit down on the chair and stretch out. My long, golden legs are smooth. Even though I have to take freezing ass showers in the dark, I make sure to shave my legs each time. Something weird might be going on outside those walls, but Giovanna Allman always looks her best.
I’m honestly terrified to think about what’s going on beyond those walls. Right before the electricity shut off, the news stations were begging everyone to stay inside to avoid a deadly flu epidemic. No problem there. Ever since, I’ve been waiting for someone to come back and tell me things are back to normal. I’m waiting to be rescued. From what, I’m not sure. At this point, boredom.
My ears perk up when I think I hear something. Princess’s head snaps in the direction of the sound and her ears rise. She might yap when she’s excited but when she’s scared, she hides. I see her warring with whether or not she should hide under my chair.
“What is it, girl?” I whisper.
She whimpers and scampers under my lawn chair.
But after fifteen minutes of complete silence, I decide it must have been a squirrel. I’ve always enjoyed my quiet secluded home, but even being off the beaten path in the hills, I still heard sirens and traffic daily. For months now, though, all I hear is silence.
The temperature rises as the afternoon sun makes its way directly above me and I feel sweat begin to bead on my back and neck. I brush my fingers through my long, blond hair and thread it into a thick side braid, tying it off at the end to keep cool. Tugging at the string at the neck of my bikini, I release it, freeing my breasts. I fumble with the back and manage to pull the top off. On Madam R, I frequently show my tits and no tan lines are a requirement. Looking down at my breasts, I grin. After Sassy Frassy in Tallahassee was cancelled, I rewarded myself with a boob job. Gone were my B cups and now I sport beautiful DD’s.
I wake up to something licking my face and giggle to see Princess resting on my bare chest trying to wake me. My lack of food, dehydration, and the sun must have wiped me out. Now, though, the sun has fallen behind the trees and darkness is quickly descending upon us.
I fucking hate the dark.
The worst part about this entire “where the fuck is everyone” situation I’m in is night time. At night, my mind and ears play tricks on me.
“Come on, Princess,” I hiss as I scramble out of the chair with her in my arms and slip on my flip flops. A wave of dizziness washes over me but it quickly passes. I’m almost to my door when I hear shattering glass. It is not too far off, maybe my neighbor’s home, but it scares the shit out of me.
More racket echoes through the trees and my heart feels as if it will explode from my chest. The sounds don’t seem like people are on their way to help me. No, the noises sound like people are breaking in.
Shit!
Once inside my house, I slide the door shut behind me and draw the curtains so that Princess and I are cloaked in darkness. After setting her down, I hear the jingle of her collar and the scratching of her toenails on the wood floors as she hightails it to my room upstairs. She’s going to our safe place.
When I first started hearing things and would become really spooked, I made myself a safe room of sorts in my massive closet. On one end, a gigantic mirror about five feet wide and eight feet tall leans against the far wall. Long ago, I made a makeshift fort with a folded blanket behind it and my emergency bottle of water. It’s just big enough for Princess and I to crawl behind and hide when we’re scared.
I fumble my way through the darkness and hurry up the stairs toward my room. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and pad over to my closet. I’m still topless, so I reach blindly along the wall until I find what feels like a shirt. Once I pull it off the hanger, I realize it’s just a zip up jacket but it will have to do, even though it feels like it’s a hundred degrees in this closet. I finally manage to figure out the zipper and zip it up to cover my tits. Ear
lier, I left my jean shorts in the middle of the floor, so I kick my foot around until I find them and pick them up.
I pause when I hear what seems to be a commotion going on outside. Seconds later, I hear banging. Moans and shrieks can be heard from beyond the walls. Every hair on my fairly smooth body stands on end. Yanking on my shorts, I fasten them and dash over to the mirror. It’s a tight fit, but I crawl under and scoop Princess into my lap. The poor dog is shaking like a leaf.
“Shhh, everything will be okay,” I whisper and kiss her head. It is so fucking hot in here, but I don’t dare move. Sweat trickles its way between my breasts and down my back. Early on, I packed a suitcase in the event I ever needed to bolt in a hurry which sits close to the mirror. I reach out and slide my expensive, rolling Louis Vuitton suitcase to hide one end of my cave. Inside, I’ve packed some clothes, necessities, a little food and water, and toiletries. When I had packed it, I’d hoped it would be the bag I took with me to a hotel to recuperate from roughing it—I even had gym clothes because the first thing I was doing once I got there was hitting the treadmill. Right now, though, I feel like it might be my survival kit.
A loud smash startles me from my thoughts, and Princess and I both whimper. Someone is in my house. I try to still my breathing so I can listen better. My poor dog is so terrified, her entire body shakes. With each of her quivers, her collar jingles loudly. Blindly, I grope around her neck to look for the snap to release it. Loud pounding up the stairs can be heard as I attempt to get her collar off before she gives our location away. I’ve just unclicked it when my bedroom door is kicked in with a crash. Softly, I ease the collar away from her and sit it down beside me.
