“We’re not out of here yet, if this turns into a huge gunfight, we want gunmen who know how to fight to help us get out of here,” Dana replied cutting off Cal who opened his mouth to respond but wasn’t quick enough. Dana shoved the pistol into the small of her back and strutted past Tommy and Kyle, stepping over Chuck and Tim’s bodies.
As she walked by, Tommy asked, “Ever consider joining Leviathan?”
She stopped, turned around and said, “Talk to me about it once we get out of here. If it’s anything like this, I might say yes, I’m rather enjoying my night.”
Tommy grinned, gave her a wink and faced Kyle, “A really like this chick and she’s hot too.”
“C’mon boys, let’s finish this,” Dana said walking out of the room.
FISHLAKE NATIONAL FOREST, UTAH, ROCKY MOUNTAIN REPUBLIC
Portia watched from her perch as the Generates lit three small separate fires in front of the massive bonfire that lit the night sky. A metal grate was suspended horizontally above each of the smaller fires, for what, she didn’t know. Back and forth different groups of Generates came and went. Having never seen one before, she had only the tales of others, to include Kyle’s stories to help give her an image of what these nomadic people’s looked and acted like. From everything she’d seen, they fit the description perfectly. They were filthy, with their hair pulled back tight into buns or tails. The men’s beards were dreadlocked with tokens and small trophies tied onto individual locks. They all wore necklaces adorned with shriveled ears. Just how humans could resort to such life was foreign to her. A little over nineteen years before they were probably normal people, going about their business with concerns or stresses related to their first world existence, now they were barbaric and preferred the life of a wandering horde.
To her left and right, the other women sat bound to the same metal cable that stretched between two large trees. The only sounds out of any of them were whimpers, cries and pleas for mercy.
Didn’t they know Generates showed no mercy? Portia would say to herself when she’d hear one of the women call out to a Generate passing by.
The heavy sound of footfalls came from her right, she looked and saw dozens of Generates appear out of the shadows and gather around the smaller fires. A lone man remained standing, no doubt their leader. He was average height, lean build, with a long beard and hair pulled up into a bun. Across his face, dark red stripes went diagonally from his temple to his chin. He was shirtless and his chest bore the same stripes. He patted several of his people on the head and said, “Good hunt, I am proud of you. We shall feast and fuck all night!”
The Generates sitting clapped their hands on their thighs, some grunted their approval.
“Bring our sacrifice,” the Generate leader said.
Several Generates appeared from behind Portia dragging Earl. “No, don’t, please.”
Portia searched her thoughts for the stories she’d heard about Generates and recalled a story from Kyle where he described witnessing a ceremony. He told her that they brought a man forward, tied him to a post, cut off his ears and gave them to the Generate who had been most effective on their hunt, then proceeded to skinning him alive. When they were done, they tossed his body onto a rack and cooked him.
Portia looked and saw the post. She put two and two together and assumed the fires and the metal racks had to be there to cook Earl on once he was dead.
Seeing Earl dragged to the post, crying and pleading, some of the women began to call out for mercy.
Portia kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
With Earl’s arms tied above him and to the post the Generate leader called out, “We sacrifice this human and from his body we shall nourish ourselves.”
The other Generates were getting excited. They rocked back and forth and were anxious to begin the savage ritual.
The Generate leader removed a long blade housed in a sheath on his hip and walked over to Earl. Without hesitating or saying a word, he removed Earl’s left ear.
Earl cried out in pain. Blood flowed freely from the wound and ran down the side of his neck and onto his shoulder. “No, please don’t, stop, please,” Earl blathered.
“God no, don’t hurt us, no!” Nancy unexpectedly cried out.
Portia looked at her and said, “Be quiet, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”
Sobbing, Nancy replied with her head hanging low, “We’re all dead anyway, they’re going to kill us and eat us. NO THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!” She wailed and sobbed heavier.
“Nancy, shut up,” Portia urged.
“It’s no use,” Nancy cried her mouth hanging open and spit and slobber dripping down.
A glint from something bright dangled from Nancy’s neck. Portia looked closer and recognized it as her locket. “That’s mine.”
Nancy didn’t say a word, she kept sobbing.
“That’s my locket, you took it,” Portia snapped.
Nancy lifted her head and looked at Portia. “I found it on the ground.”
“It has my picture in it and my name on the back. You found it and decided to keep it, you fucking bitch,” Portia barked.
Earl cried out in pain as the Generate leader sliced off his other ear and held it high in the air. The brutal display pulled Portia away from her confrontation with Nancy. She now prayed she’d live long enough to watch Nancy suffer the same fate.
The Generate leader gave away the ear then turned towards Earl. Blood soaked his shirt. The Generate leader cut the shirt away and tossed it into the fire. He then cut his pants off him and threw them into the flames. Naked, bloody and shaking with fear, Earl continued to beg for mercy. The Generate leader called out, “Jacks, Flint, Graves come forth with your knives and remove the skin of our sacrifice.”
“NO!” Earl screamed.
The three men summoned stepped forward with long slender knives in their hands. Portia couldn’t help but admire the blades and by their design they were made for fileting delicate flesh.
The Generate leader stepped away and allowed the three to begin their work. Not hesitating and showing their skill, they began to cut, but they didn’t remove the skin. The one in front of Earl inserted his knife and slid it horizontal from left to right, from collar bone to collar bone, then turned the blade down and cut along the side stopping near the hip before cutting horizontal again from the waist across and up to the where he began. The others were cutting around the circumference of his arms and legs.
Earl screamed and shook uncontrollably.
Portia wanted to feel sorry for Earl but she couldn’t, though it was a brutal way to die, she felt he deserved every second of pain he was receiving.
The three Generates stepped back when they were finished carving on Earl’s body.
The Generate leader approached, nodded and said, “Remove the flesh and put it on the fire.”
The three Generates shoved their fingers deep into the top horizontal cut and together pulled. At first the skin barely gave, but on their second hard pull, it peeled back.
Earl shrieked loudly then passed out from the pain.
The Generates continued pulling until the front panel of skin was removed. One took it to the far left fire and placed it on the scalding hot grate which served as a grill. The flesh sizzled when it made contact.
The other Generates grunted and began to grow agitated.
Portia was mesmerized by the barbaric ritual, it was grotesque, beyond anything she’d ever seen, but for some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. With her attention fully on what they were doing see didn’t notice that several of the women had passed out.
The three Generates pulled the skin from his arms and legs and put it on a grate. They continued to do this until most of Earl’s skin had been removed leaving his muscles, tendons and bones exposed.
Portia could see Earl’s chest gently rise and fall indicating he was still alive. It was awful but skill she couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy for
him.
With the skin removed, the Generates went to attend to the cooking of the flesh.
The Generate leader came forward, removed his knife from its sheath and cut off Earl’s genitals. He held them up high and offered them to a woman close by who devoured them raw.
Finally, Portia pulled her gaze. She had reached her limit. A crippling fear came over her, this was how she was going to die. How could this be? She asked herself.
“Children gather, come,” the Generate leader called out.
Unable to control her curiosity, Portia looked and saw a gathering of fifteen children assemble at the leader’s feet.
“Claw come forward,” the Generate leader said motioning to a boy about ten years old. The boy stood up and came to him. The Generate leader put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and held out the knife. “Take the blade and cut the man across the belly, there,” he said using his own torso as a guide. The boy nodded, took the knife and stepped in front of Earl. The Generate leader stood behind Claw and said, “Do it, Claw, open him up for us.” The boy raised the knife, pressed it against the exposed abdominal wall and slid it across. Instantly, Earl’s intestines poured out and fell to the ground with a plop. Claw stepped away, handed the knife back and sat down. The Generate leader said, “Children, take the bowels of this man and pull them out. Take them and put them in the bucket; the women will clean them for later.” The children did as he said. The grand finale was now here. The Generate leader faced Earl’s dead body, raised his knife and plunged it deep into his sternum. From there he sawed until he had a foot long incision in his chest. He sheathed the knife, reached in with both hands and pried open Earl’s chest.
The sound of cracking ribs made Portia cringe.
Nancy continued to sob while others were still unconscious and even more cried knowing their fate would soon follow Earl’s.
The Generate leader reached into the chest cavity, grabbed Earl’s heart twisted it hard and pulled it out. Being the leader of this tribe, the heart was his to take and that he did. He held it high then brought it down level with his face. He examined the bloody organ and clamped his jaw around a ventricle and bit down. Using his incisors, he twisted and turned his head until he was able to bite off a large chunk. He chewed repeatedly, breaking down the fibrous tissue until he could swallow. Blood ran down his chin and dripped onto his bare chest. Not finished, he took another large bite.
The tribe grew increasingly agitated due to hunger. They longingly looked at their leader then to the Generates cooking the skin. They were waiting for the word to go eat.
The Generate leader finished the heart with one last bite. He swallowed hard, licked the blood from his fingers and raised his hands. He looked to the Generates cooking the skin and ordered, “Done. Prepare it.”
They did as he ordered and removed the charred skin and began slicing it into hand sized portions.
The tribe began to grunt and moan as their hunger was increasing.
A wind whipped from the north and washed Portia in the intense smell of charred flesh. She gagged and dry heaved, trace amounts of bile coming up gave her mouth a bitter taste.
The Generates finished cutting the skin and signaled with a nod to their leader.
“Go eat!” the Generate leader hollered.
Like a pack of wild and ravenous animals, the tribe raced towards the table stacked high with charbroiled skin. They kicked, punched, scratched and clawed to get their hands on a piece.
With the tribe busy eating, The Generate leader motioned towards the body of Earl.
Knowing what came next, the three Generates who had carved Earl walked over, took the body down and placed it on a long table feet from the last fire. Using cleavers, hand saws and knives they began to butcher Earl’s body. As manageable pieces were cut off, one of them would toss it on the grate and began cooking it.
Portia began to wonder if she should find a way to kill herself. Dying the way Earl did wasn’t something she wished to experience. She thought about taking a knife from one of them and slicing her own throat and even leaping into the center of the bonfire. Both would be painful but only for a brief moment compared to the torturous death she’d just witnessed.
The Generate leader approached the women. He slowly walked past each of them, stopping in front of a couple. He reached the end of the line, turned around and began another pass. He stopped in front of Nancy, who had become hysterical, and said, “You’re next.”
“No, please, someone help me!” she cried out.
He pulled out his knife, cut her away from the cable and lifted her to her feet.
A combination of fear and shock made it hard for Nancy to stand. She went to take her first step but her legs wobbled and buckled. She collapsed to the ground and began to cry.
The Generate leader didn’t need her to walk. He’d get her to the post any way necessary. He bent down, took a handful of hair and pulled her behind him kicking and screaming. When he reached the post, he secured her to it like Earl was and pulled out his knife. He went to go remove one of her ears but stopped when he spotted the locket. Curious, he ripped it off her neck and opened it to discover Kyle and Portia’s pictures. With no real value, he tossed it on a table near him.
“God please, someone help me.”
He got in her face and smiled broadly showing his brownish yellow teeth.
Repulsed she turned her head away.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Unable to control her bodily functions, she wet her pants.
Taunting her, he said, “I’m going to enjoy eating you later.” He took her left ear in his hand and with a single precise slice, removed it.
BATCHELOR GULCH, COLORADO, COLLECTIVE PROTECTED ZONE
Dana stopped at the corner in the hallway and peered around. The three remaining guards stood talking as she had left them, unaware that their comrades were dead. She looked back at the men and said, “Its show time.”
Cal reached up and touched her arm, “Be careful.”
Her face scrunched and with a tone signaling her annoyance with his persistent concern said, “Calvin, I’ll be fine, stop always saying that.”
Cal nodded.
Kyle watched the two interact and could tell they must have a romantic relationship or at the minimum he cared for her more than she did for him.
Before Dana stepped off she gave Kyle a look and winked. This wink didn’t go unnoticed by Cal, but before he could say anything, she was already heading down the hallway.
Cal scooted up to the corner and listened for her cue, with Kyle just behind him.
A guard named Mat saw Dana coming first and asked, “Where are the guys?”
“They’re coming, I thought maybe I could entertain you guys too. They weren’t enough for me,” she said seductively.
One of the guards raised a brow and asked, “I smell bullshit.”
Mat turned to him and asked, “What do you mean, Brad?”
By this time, Dana came to within a few feet of them and stopped.
“That I don’t trust her,” Brad said skeptically.
“Oh, come on, Brad, I know your wife and I bet she can’t take care of you like I can,” Dana said.
Mat ignored Brad’s skepticism and approached Dana, he went to touch her but she backed up just out of reach. “Where you going?”
“No touchy until we get back to the room,” Dana said.
The last guard stood in front of the door, he was young, about seventeen and this was his first detail working the Lair. He’d seen the older guards play around and violate their oaths but he was too scared to do so.
Mat spotted something unusual on Dana’s white shirt. “What in the hell is that?” Mat said pointing at the front of her shirt.
Dana looked down and saw blood splatter. Fear gripped her. She stuttered, “Oh that; it, it, its pasta sauce I’m preparing for dinner tonight.” While she spoke her right hand slowly drifted towards her back.
Brad stepped forward, leane
d in and looked, “Pasta sauce, that looks like…” he said but was unable to finish as she pulled the pistol from her lower back and shot him in the face.
Mat watched in shock as his friend’s head exploded. He began to raise his rifle but was too slow. She turned the pistol on him and shot him twice, once in the chest and once in the side of the head. He dropped to his knees and fell to the ground dead.
Dana swiveled to confront the last guard but this time her luck had run out. He had his rifle trained on her. “Drop it!” Dana could see his hand was shaking. He was terrified and rightfully so, he had just witnessed two of his colleagues get gunned down.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, we’re both going to put down our guns and talk about this,” Dana said, her pistol still pointed in the direction of where Mat had stood.
“Put it down!” he yelled.
Back at the end of the hall, the others heard the commotion. Cal peaked around and said, “Shit, she’s in trouble.”
“Did she give the cue?” Kyle asked.
“No, trust me, she’s in trouble,” Cal said and bolted from around the corner.
With no other choice, Kyle and the others had to follow. They cleared the corner and began to race down the hall, covering the distance quickly.
The guard saw them and yelled, “Everyone fucking stop, freeze!”
“You’re outnumbered. I’m sure you don’t want to die!” Dana said.
“Please put down you gun!” the guard urged Dana, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
“You’re a young guy, I’m sure you don’t want to die. If you put the rifle down, I promise my friends won’t hurt you,” Dana lied, she had no intention of keeping him alive.
Cal and the others were closing in fast.
The guard stepped away from her until he walked into the door. His eyes darted between her and the men coming fast. In his head he debated what to do. If he surrendered and they killed Number One, he’d forever be known a traitor and a coward but if he fought back and died, he’d be hailed a hero of The Collective and there was no greater honor than that. He stiffened his back and said, “For The Collective!” He squeezed the trigger and unleashed a burst of rounds directed at Dana, striking her in the chest. She reeled back and dropped to the floor. He pivoted to engage the men but Kyle had the guard sighted in through the Trijicon MRO on his rifle and shot several times.
Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel Page 17
