"I left you alone" I started, my tone rising as I spoke. "Maybe if I had stayed in that cabin with you, we wouldn't be in a situation like this-"
"If you had stayed, they would have killed you first." Olive stated her demeanor suddenly cold. Her sudden change of attitude took me back, but I lept up to lash out again. "You don't know that. I could have helped you, prevented this somehow." I yelled, clenching my fist.
Doug sighed. "No, ya couldn't have. There was just too many of them, Bub. And they don't know ya," He halted. "Ya would have been shot on sight." He ended, as if the argument was won.
Grinding my teeth I tried to stand, clutching the nearby bars for support. Olive watched me struggle and lent out a hand, and I seriously considered swiping it away. "You came back for us, Sara." She murmured. "You didn't leave us for dead. You don't need to ask for forgiveness for something you didn't do."
"But I did." I drawled out, resisting the urge to bury my face in my hands. "I left you to get captured; I killed people to get here, and for what? To get captured myself?" Hoisting myself up, I looked them dead in the eye. Doug was on the end of his nerve, while Olive looked ready to collapse from the weight of the situation. "How can I help you if I'm stuck in here with you?"
Doug sighed, standing tall dispite his weekend state. "Now listen here Bub, I'ma say this once and I hope it's understood. Ya ain't done nothin wrong but holler and whine just cause an old man lose an arm that wasn't no good anyways. Ya been kicking ass ever since I dragged ya out from the city but you can't do nothing if ya keep moping around feeling sorry for yourself. Yeah, we got caught but if ya had been there they wouldn't even have let ya live another second. They shoot first, ask questions later." He took a breath. "To tell the truth, I ain't sure how ya even figured we had been brought here anyhow. Anybody else would have just thought we disappeared off the face of the earth."
The sudden rise of authority in the room was off putting. I wiped my wet face until it was dry, hating on how my shirt's sleeves were now covered in hell knows what. "I met…" I paused, sniffing. "People, in the forest that day. They told me you were taken here." Doug nodded. "And?" "They wanted me to come with them, but I didn't. I just took their map and…" I hesitated, my mind following back to Tanya's death. The image of her hollowed out throat filled my mind and I shook it away.
Olive narrowed her eyes. "Why? Why would they want you?" Doug too, furrowed his brows, as if to ask the same question. I shrugged, shaking my head and working to sooth my now raw throat. "I-I don't know. They just snuck up on me and ask me I was and there was two of them and they saw Aaron so I guess-"
Aaron. Oh holy fuck, Aaron.
An audible gasp from Olive was heard. Doug nodded grimly. "They mistook ya for a tamer, huh." He thought for a moment. There was a familiar feel of the urge to vomit creeping up my throat, the thought of me leave Aaron alone and in danger was sickening. I hunched over, hands on my knees, fighting back a sob. It's with my head down in this position I see Doug's last hand, and what's written on the back of it.
Slowly, I pointed at it. "How did…" Doug followed my finger's direction, lifting up his head to examine. "Oh this?" He rotated his palm, staring dully at it. "They've been doing it to everybody that's come in contact with the infected, their own little way of determining who's immune and who's not." He stated, as if it was just a casual fact that everyone should know. As if to further prove his point, Olive lifted her own right hand, and on her delicate finger's the word CLEAN.
I glared at the print, unsure of how to make of it. Suddenly aware of my own hands, I fumbled with them clumsily. Cracking my knuckles, rolling my wrist until I heard a small pop from each bone. I swallowed thickly when I realized that it wasn't just their skin that had been printed on. "…Clean means immune, right?" I asked nervously.
The couple glanced to each other. "Yes…" With their response, I held the hand up for them to see. "Then what does the Biohazard sign mean?" I inquired, my heart plummeting for the millionth time that day as I watched their faces drop. Doug began to stutter, before hushing up. Olive was the one to finish for him. "We…don't know." She babbled. It was clear that she did not expect for me to have it, which wasn't necessarily a good sign.
Panic invaded me. "Is that bad?" I asked, my pitch a little high. "I don't know, sweetie, I just don't know." She repeated, clutching her husband's shirt for emotional comfort. Doug, noticing both his wife's and my own state of distress, blew a puff of air. It seemed like he hasn't been able to smoke in a while. "Bub, where's Aaron?" I shook my head, doing my best to remember.
"I don't know." I answered, and Doug gave me a look telling me to continue. "We came here to find you, we were hidden, you know, disguised. But we got caught, and I was thrown in here and I don't-" I caught my breath. "They used some sort of tranquilizer on me, the last I remember he was being chased down by a shit ton of armed men." My rubbed the bags under my eyes. That refreshing hours of sleep I had to keep me energized were gone now, replaced by a dose of exhaustion and stress.
"Well, they used a tranquilizer on you, why not on him?" Olive said, attempting cheer me up, even if just by the slightest. I shook my head. If he's already killed someone, who says Paradise is suddenly going to have a heart of gold and forgive?
"Sara…" Doug began, his tone of voice serious. I piped to attention best I could, he never used my actual name. "Are you are carrier?" Olive turned to stare at her husband, as if he just asked something extremely rude. It became silent in the jail cell. I took a deep breath and prepared to explain myself.
The door open and I shut my mouth immediately. The same pudgy man from before walked in, carrying something in a white plastic cup. The smell of coffee rushed through my nose, sending a burst of alertness through my senses. I can't remember the last time I had coffee. Needless to say, back in the day I was a coffee addict, drinking the caffeine every chance I got whether it be morning or in the middle of the night. I went through terrible withdrawal when the apocalypse began.
The man, noticing how my eyes followed the cup, smiled and waved it around, parading it. I snapped my attention from the coffee to him, debating on whether or not I should reach out and flip the cup over in his hands. My arms were skinny enough to reach through the bars, but not long enough.
He laughed, taking a victory sip. Suddenly, he spat out the liquid, panting and holding out his tongue. It was a red, swollen color and a bit of steam came from his mouth, as well as the coffee that was now sadly spilled all over the floor. A small smirk danced on my lips as I watched him fumble to cool his burning mouth.
He glared up at me with beady little eyes. "And just what are you smiling about, bitch?" He sauntered up to the edge of the bars, leaning in closer to my face. "Wipe that shit grin off your face before I come in there and smack it off ya." I leaned backwards, disgusted by the smell of his breath. The coffee had done nothing for him. He smelled of alcohol and something else I don't even want to describe.
The look of repulsion on my face replaced the smile, and I guess he took it as me being obedient. The man grinned, backing away from the bars. Olive hid behind Doug, who simply stared at the man, waiting. I covered my mouth and nose, trying to dispel the smell of his breath away from my face. The stranger eyed this. "What's the matter, eh?" He cooed. "Feeling a bit sick?" He chuckled, eyeing the Biohazard sign printed on my hand. "It's what you get for hanging around filthy, infected, scum."
"It's your yuck mouth teeth that made the poor girl sick."
The stranger whirled around to face Doug, keys jingling in his pocket with the movement. I sent a questioning glance towards the couple, hoping for an answer, but Doug had locked eyes with our keeper and Olive looked as clueless as I was.
The man appeared to huff, and assume what I guess was his 'tough and big man' stance. In reality, he looked similar to a puffer fish. "I suggest you shut your mouth, cripple, before I make sure you have no teeth." He threatened. Though his threat was macho, his body language was not. H
e took a step back away from the cage, small, but not unnoticed.
"And I suggest ya hush up, boy, before this 'cripple' kicks your ass." Doug taunted, a smirk daunting his features. I have no idea what he was planning, but whatever it was he seemed confident that it would work. I gulped, hoping and waiting to see where this goes.
Olive, still unaware of what was going down, patted her husband's shoulder in attempt to calm him. I pulled her behind me, furthest away from the bars and the two men. Putting my index finger over my lips, I made the universal 'shhh' sound. She seemed to take the hint pretty quickly.
"Shut your fucking mouth, you lowly piece of scum. Don't you know who I am?"
"Somebody who's bout to get his fat ass kicked by an old, disabled man. Pathetic."
The sharp suited man, now visibly enrage, took large booming footsteps towards the cage. He leaned forward and pointed a finger at Doug's unimpressed face. "Now, listen here you little piece of shit. You and your little whore are going down to trail, while this bitch-" He swung his hand and pointed at me. "Is going to be fed to the new livestock, you hear?"
Doug nodded. "Loud and clear." With one swift movement, he reached out from the bars and grabbed the back of the man's head by his hair. The man, too much in shock to do anything simply flailed his limbs as his head was bashed against the cage. Each impact against the metal created the same ringing sound I awoke to, and hence returned the dreaded headache.
Olive, obviously not used to such brutality, hid her face in my shirt. I placed a hand on my back, comforting her until Doug was finished.
Blood was flowing freely down the bars now, creating a small pool on the floor. Doug held it upright and motioned me to the body. "Bub, the keys." With one hand still wrapped around Olive, I reached down into the suit's pockets, and pulled out the first metallic thing my fingers wrapped around.
I pulled it out and eyed it carefully. It wasn't the keys, but still something worth keeping. It was a knife, probably my knife that was taken from me when I had passed out. I clipped it to my belt, searching again in the other pocket. The body dropped as soon as I pulled out the keys.
Letting go of Olive, I fumbled with the lock and keys until one of them fit, and the door opened. Doug, now having access to the man's body without the restraint of the cage, looted him for all he was worth. I stared blankly as he pulled off the two pistols off the man, the same one I had before. He handed one to Olive, settling one for himself. "Think ya can handle a blade, Bub?" He asked me, "We got your back, of course."
I nodded. They needed the guns more than I did right now. Though I wasn't sure how well Olive could fire a gun, something tells me that she just wasn't the kind of woman who would do well in a close combat fight. As for Doug…
I bit my lip, a habit I thought I had planned on stopping. He was at a 'disadvantage'.
We gathered around the steel door, unsure of our next course of action. "So" I began. "What do we do now?" Olive seemed to relay my question with a glance. Doug checked the condition of his gun, blowing out imaginary smoke. "We're leaving."
Chapter 20
There was an uncertain pause. "Leaving?" I repeated, slightly more accusing than questioning. Doug raised a brow. "Ya rather stay, Bub?" He asked. I shook my head. "No…." He made for the door handle. "Then why the hell we just standing around here for?" His tone rose in the slightest. Olive attention sSirened from him to me.
"Aaron came here with me, and both of you already said that there was a chance he was tranquilized." Not killed, yet. "We can't just leave him here. I mean, he has to be close by." The couple shared unsure glances before casting them onto me. "That it, if he was even caught in the first place." I quickly added.
Doug sighed, pulling a face that could both be put off as sympathetic and urgency. "If he's been caught, he either dead or thrown in with the rest of the tamed infected. From the looks of how you and him made your entrance, I don't think anybody with a gun would have hesitated, Bub." Doug bluntly said. Something crawled inside my stomach, and threatened to force its way up my throat. A mix of both fear and anger.
Olive gave a smile. "There always a chance that he was never caught" The pity in her voice overlapped the comfort she was trying to give. I looked away from them. Doug turned to face her. "If he was never caught, then he's been long gone. Got no reason to stick around here." His eyes flicked towards me for a brief moment. "If he did, he'd be dead-"
I cut him off. "Alright, I get your point." I muttered, clutching the handle of the knife tightly. "He either dead or gone, you could of just settled for that, you know?" I place my hand over Doug's, turning the handle and opening the door while they backed away. The door was heavier than it looked.
Olive looked down apologetically. "I'm sorry, Sara." I ignored her, leaning my head out of the doorway taking in the surroundings. It was a wide, hallway with a sharp turn at the end of it, and from an educated guess I could say it led into the same library where I was brought to my knees. "I know how much he meant to you."
I gave her a sharp glance, only softening when I could see the genuine emotion in her features. "It's fine." I muttered, flipping my knife around and holding it vertically. "I've lost people before, everyone has. It's nothing I can't get over." Motioning for them to follow me, we began to make our way slowly down the hallway. "It doesn't matter now anyway." Sure, these last few weeks meant nothing. Just let me throw every hurt and comfort I've had and forget about it.
Olive nodded, not saying anymore. I heard a small squeak coming from the floor. Looking down, I wrinkled my nose. Blood from the man before had somehow covered my combat boots. Wait, scratch that. My stolen combat boots, leaving a very evident bloody footprint on the clean wooden floor. Doug caught the action too. "So much for leaving discreetly." He muttered, cursing quietly when he noticed his own shoes doing the same.
I rolled my eyes, startling myself a little when they watered up as I did so. I wiped it away before they could notice. "Yeah, like the dead body wasn't enough of a trail." I snarked, the sentence full of sarcasm. Doug caught up to my unusually quick pace. "Oh hush, he ain't dead." He replied. I whipped around to face him. "You practically smashed his head open" I commented, my tone of voice surprisingly calm.
Doug shrugged almost innocently. "Shouldn't of back-talked. Fella looked like he ain't never worked a day in his life." The hallway was getting noticeably shorter now. While my body kept its pace, my mind paused for a brief moment. Had we been too loud? Were there twenty heavily armed soldiers waiting around the corner, ready to fire the second when come into view?
My thoughts weren't able to continue as Doug interrupted them. "Hush…you hear that?" Olive and I halted, listening carefully for whatever Doug seemed to have detected. Aside from our own heartbeats, the air was quiet. Furrowing my brows, I turned to the couple. "I don't hear anything-" Olive pushed a finger to her lips. "Shhh, listen."
A little irritated, I obeyed. We stood in unmoving silence. Seconds rolled by and I impatiently sighed, the sound echoing through narrow hallway.
Suddenly, I heard a faint noise, and my ears immediately tuned in on it. It came from the direction of what I had already assumed the library. Olive shuffled nervously in her spot, and Doug seemed to tense. Whatever this noise was, it didn't mean well to them. How could they pick it up first when I couldn't? Was I too lost in my own thoughts? Damn, I really needed to stop distracting myself.
The faint noise grew louder, and Doug spoke in the middle of it. "C'mon, let's get moving." He ushered, taking the lead. I frowned at the action, not sure whether heroism or desperateness to leave, but I let pass as well as his wife. I glanced at the gun she was holding, shaking in her hands. She was terrified, as if she had never even hurt a fly before. I wonder what she thought about all of this.
Peering passed her, I glared at the spot where Doug other arm should have been. It's my fault, nothing can convince me otherwise. They might not think so, or lied to avoid any more unnecessary fighting, but it
's the truth. I interfered with their peaceful lifestyle. They took me in as a show of kindness and I left them when they needed aid. Why didn't they just wish me away?
Shaking my head, I pulled myself out of my musing. Now was not the time, not with what's at stake. The hallway was getting shorter with every step and the sounds at the end of it where getting louder and louder until I could distinctively make them out. Finally rounding the corner, Olive gasped and Doug's look hardened, leaving me to gaze in horror.
The room was, for lack of better word: Trashed. Desks were overturned, bookshelves had toppled over, leaving many books scattered across the floor. Part of the railing from the stairs had been broken and seemed to be hanging off by a splinter. The worst of it was that every five feet a body lay, bloody and slashed hollow. In a corner, a Siren chained to a pillar sat, crying out the same sobs we had heard in the hallway. I took a glance at her bloodied claws and gulped.
In the middle of the room, two men stood, both equipped with officer armor and weaponry. I clenched my knife, keeping quiet. They haven't noticed us yet, and if we were careful enough we could either sneak by them or take them out without a hassle. Preferably the latter, since any racket of a fight could possibly attract reinforcements.
I weighed the options and mentally sighed. The room was two open to fully sneak past them and bolt for the door without getting a few bullets in the process. The other option: try my best to eliminate them while Doug and Olive watch from a distance. Something tells me that in their state, they be caught in a heartbeat.
The two men seemed to talk amongst each other, one poking a corpse with his weapon, as if to check if it was dead. I'm going to take an educated guess and say that they were Paradise's cleanup crew. They didn't look to happy, but they didn't look like they were grieving either, like the job was an annoyance to them.
Doug turned to me and we nodded, silently understanding the situation with no need for verbal communication. He slowly held his arm out in front of Olive, telling her to stay behind him. They watched as I crept slowly against the wall, the two men facing the opposite direction. Once I got it where their backs were fully facing me, I slowly made my way to them
Walking Bodies Page 22
