This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope

by James D. Dean

  He walked up to the bars, slipping his arms through and clasping his hands together. He leaned in, resting his elbows on of the cross bars and stared at me, his smile never waning.

  “That you, Jakey?” I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “Mr. Foster,” he sighed, shaking his head as he lowered his forehead to the bars. “I told you what you are to refer to me as. I would appreciate if you used my proper title.”

  “Ah yes, Mr. Professor sir,” I mocked his accent. “So, if you’re the Professor, then blondie over there must be Gilligan, right? Are the Skipper and Mary Ann hiding around here somewhere? Tell me, how did you get off that island?”

  “Show some respect dickhead!” the angry man shouted, his hand moving swiftly to his holster.

  “Relax Lawrence,” the man said. “Daniel here is new to our little tribe. Let’s not be rude to him while he recovers from that nasty bit of business he was involved in.”

  “Yes sir,” Larry replied through clenched teeth.

  “That’s right, Lawrence,” I mocked again. “Be nice to the man behind the curtain or you’ll be put in time out.”

  “He refused to eat,” Larry said, casting me a death stare through the bars.

  “Oh, now we can’t have that,” The Professor said, righting himself. “You need your strength. I’m sorry we can’t offer much. I hope you like bacon and eggs. The coffee is instant I’m afraid, and the orange juice is not as fresh as I’m sure you are accustomed to. But it is the best we can do, given the circumstances.”

  “Did you say bacon?” I said, trying to contain the drool.

  “Why yes, I did.”

  “I guess you can’t be all bad if you appreciate bacon,” I said.

  “Truthfully, I can’t stomach the stuff,” he replied. “But I know you mid westerners have a penchant for it.”

  “Never mind,” I said. “You are a fiend.”

  “You are quite the comical one,” he laughed.

  “Let me out of this cage and I’ll show you just how hysterical I can be,” I said, glaring at him.

  “No, no, no,” he started, with a hint of surprise in his tone. “Please, simple threats are beneath you Mr. Foster. I expect much better from a man who appreciates The Divine Comedy as I do.”

  “The what?”

  “The message you have scrawled on your weapon,” he replied. “Tell me you have not forgotten our little chat last week.”

  “Last week!” I gasped, trying to sit up only to have the pain in my ribs force me back down.

  “Oh yes, Mr. Foster,” he smiled. “You have been asleep for some time now. In fact, I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake at all. Your injuries were quite severe. I decided to force you back into consciousness today so that you might eat and try to regain some of your strength. I want you well.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I exhaled, dropping my head back on my pillow. My gut fell as my thoughts drifted back to my little girl and how scared and alone she must have felt. I wondered if Chris was out looking for me, and if he was, how long would he look before giving up and moving on. How long would Katie wait for me before she too gave up on the notion that she would ever see me again.

  “What are you thinking about, Mr. Foster?” Jake’s voice punched through my thoughts.

  “I’m trying to figure out how you manage to keep so clean hanging around a slop jockey like Lawrence.”

  Hey, if you’re going to poke a bear, might as well use a sharp stick, right?

  “Fuck you!” Larry shouted, ripping a large key ring from his belt. In one fluid motion, he slipped one of the many keys into the lock and swung the prison cell door open. Waving my gun in his hand he charged at me with murder in his eyes.

  “Lawrence!” Jake shouted, his accent fading slightly. “You know the rules! You can only have him when…and if I decide. Not before!”

  Larry stopped mid-stride as his nostrils flared and spittle flew from between his teeth with every exhale. He looked back at Jake, then me again, his face red with barely controlled rage.

  “Yes sir,” he growled. He slipped my gun around his back and tucked it in whatever he was using as a holster.

  Not one to let an opportunity to royally piss someone off go to waste, I shot Larry a condescending smile. He responded with an audible grind of his teeth. Again, I decided to push my luck, and blew him a kiss.

  “Lawrence!” Jake shouted again as the man drew my Glock and pressed it against my forehead. Stinging pain suddenly zipped across my scalp until it felt as if the side of my head was on fire.

  “I will not tell you again,” Jake’s voice smoldered. “Distribute breakfast and remove yourself from these cells. We will talk about this later!”

  “You better pray that I don’t get time with you,” Larry hissed in my ear before pulling my gun from my head.

  “Looking forward to it,” I said, glaring back at him defiantly.

  He snarled at me before marching out of my cell, returning seconds later with a fold up TV table. He set it up next to my cot and placed a covered tray on top of it. Withdrawing from my cell, he slammed the barred door shut with enough force to shake my cot.

  I turned away from the two of them, looking up to the ceiling as I listened to them whisper harshly at each other. My stomach rumbled as the smell of hickory smoked bacon filled the area. My mouth watered, anticipating the smokey meat candy sitting mere inches from where I lay. My entire body began to crave the salty pork rashers until I felt as if I could leap from my cot and devour the entire serving in seconds.

  My mind wandered to the last time I’d savored the deliciousness of nature’s most perfect food, and my soul crashed. Images of that morning flooded to the front of my mind, when everyone laughed and spirits were high before Adam destroyed the mood…and my life. It was the last day I’d spent with Abby. The smell of bacon pulled me out of the last bed I’d shared with her. Had I known, I would have never left her side.

  As hungry as I was, I knew I wouldn’t touch that bacon.

  The heavy clang of another cell door flying open punched through my despair. It sounded like another breakfast had been delivered close by.

  “The next time we meet, you will tell me where your mind just went,” Professor commanded. “And you will not leave out a single detail. Now, it is time to eat. That is your breakfast. No one else shall eat it. What you do not complete will be disposed of.”

  “If you say so, Jakey.”

  “A word of caution,” he continued. “It is not wise to taunt Mr. Parker. He is an able bodied and loyal associate, but he is not mine to control. If you push him too far I cannot guarantee your safety.”

  “Right,” I sighed. “Don’t hurt blondie’s feelings.”

  “Do try to show some respect here,” Jake sighed. “It is in your best interest.”

  “Sure thing, Jakey,” I replied, tuning my head away from him.

  “My name is Professor,” he scolded.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Sure thing, Professor Jakey.”

  “I can see this is going to be an interesting arrangement,” he sighed again. “Soon enough, you will come to understand your predicament.”

  “Uh huh,” I said dismissively.

  “Jeffery,” he said, ignoring my attempt to get under his skin. “You may open your curtains now. Be sure to eat.”

  “Jeffery?” I asked. I turned my head back to where the two stood in time to watch them disappear back down the hallway. With a slam of a door and the clack of a large lock they were gone.

  “Who’s Jeff—” I started when a blast of sunlight poured in from across the hallway. I peered through the light as I waited for my eyes to clear. As the spots vanished, I found I was looking across a wide hallway and into a cell directly across from mine.

  “Who’s there?” I asked, only to be met with silence. Through the shafts of light I saw the silhouette of a man walking across his cell, taking a seat near his breakfast.

  “Who are you?”

&nb
sp; Crickets.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Nada.

  “The real talkative type, huh?”

  Needless to say I started to get a little frustrated at the guy and his apparent inability to form sentences. Especially when I was trying to talk through a very dry and sore throat.

  “Can you wave or something? Do jumping jacks? Fart the national anthem? Anything?”

  Again, the man said nothing, choosing instead to sit in his chair and stare at me like I was a zoo exhibit...which I suppose was not that far from the truth given the situation, but that was beside the point. My frustration finally got the better of me, which led to one of my more stupid decisions that morning.

  I sat up.

  My head spun instantly, my empty stomach churned until I felt the bile tickling the back of my throat. I probably would have started retching had it not been for the immense pain in my side. I grabbed at my ribs and found a large bandage wrapped around my midsection tight enough to limit my breathing.

  “Shit,” I gasped. I lowered my head into my bandaged hands as waves of nausea washed over me. The pain returned across my head as my fingers fell upon a long line of stitches. Carefully I traced the gash, following it from where it started above my left eyebrow all the way to where it ended above my left ear.

  “What the hell,” I exhaled as I continued to fight back the gut churning nausea. I pulled my hands away from my head and noticed the gauze Rosa had wrapped around my palms had been replaced with clean white bandaging.

  I tried to focus on anything that would distract me from the sickness in my stomach. Pain shot through my body in never ending waves until I began to believe that if something didn’t hurt, it must not be working. Which can be pretty frightening if you really think about it.

  Doing my best to push aside all the fun times my body was going through, I tried to focus on my cell. It was slightly larger than most I’d seen in the past. (Don’t ask, I’m not telling!) The cold gray concrete floors stretched from one wall of bars to another. A stainless steel toilet and sink sat against the block wall below the barred windows. Stretched from one of the bars to a plastic hook on the wall above the toilet was a plain green shower curtain, meant to offer a little privacy while one is forced to handle nature’s call.

  Small favors I guess, I thought.

  Glancing at the sink I was filled with the desire to splash my face with cold water. I would have tried anything to shut down the merry go round that my brain hopped on while I slept. I stood, which was stupid thing number two that morning. My knees cracked in protest as I put weight on my wobbly legs. That’s when I realized I was wearing nothing more than a hospital gown covering my front, and pretty much nothing on my backside.

  Yet I wasn’t freezing. In a concrete room with steel bars for walls, I should have been shivering like Jell-O in a paint shaker, but I was warm. More than warm, I was actually toasty.

  “Generator,” I said to myself when my brain finally decided to form a coherent thought. “That hum, it’s a generator isn’t it?” I asked my silent neighbor.

  Swing and a miss.

  “Oh, look who I’m asking,” I said. “You and I have to work on your communication skills.”

  I stood still for a few minutes in silence, leaning against my cot to let my body stop yelling at me for being a moron. As I did I noticed the sunlight streaming into the cells had dimmed. I looked up to see The Silent One closing his curtains just enough to where the sun no longer blinded me.

  There were three holding cells that I could see. The cell adjacent to mine was empty save for two cots and some rolled up blankets. My neighbor’s cell sat directly across from mine, our cages separated by a large hallway. The construction was similar to the one I occupied, the same awful paint job, the same stainless steel toilet, and the same privacy curtain.

  The man I assumed was this Jeffery guy sat in a fold up chair against the wall under his barred window. He rested his elbows on his knees, head turned down with his eyes to the floor. It was apparent even as he sat he was a tall guy, easily topping six feet with inches to spare. He was lean, but not starved. His unkempt brown hair was matted down to the top of his head, a long goatee running from his chin. Weeks without a razor led to facial hair that threatened to overrun his goatee.

  In the cot next to him lay what I thought was a pile of old bedsheets, until I noticed the sheets were breathing. I watched the sheets shift around until a woman’s pale face appeared from beneath.

  Her thin, almost skeletal face turned to me and her dark circled eyes met mine. Immediately the suffering she was enduring became apparent. Her shoulders were nothing more than skin stretched across bone, the skin itself holding a deathly white pallor. She reached her twig thin arm up to brush away brittle light brown hair from her face.

  She was starving to death.

  Yet, she smiled at me through delicately thin lips. Despite her agony, she still smiled a happy smile at me.

  “Is that your wife?” I asked angrily. “Your friend? Girlfriend?”

  His eyes turned toward mine, and for the briefest of moments I caught a deep despair reflected in them before that too vanished. No other emotion could be read on his features. His face was as blank as the creatures walking around outside. He stared at me for a second before returning his eyes to the floor.

  “Hey!” I snapped. “What’s going on over there!? She’s starving!”

  The woman simply shook her head at me, her smile fading as she pulled her sheet back over her head. She shivered violently under her blanket despite the heat. Though it was apparent she was trying to muffle them, her cries flowed from beneath the pile of blankets.

  As I tried to puzzle through what I was seeing, I watched the man stand and lift the cover from his tray, a puff of billowing steam encircled him as he set it aside. He picked up his orange juice, and drank it down greedily before he dove into his plate of eggs. He shoveled them into his mouth without pausing to take a breath, occasionally glancing at the pile of shivering blankets beside him.

  “You greedy asshole!” I snapped, appalled at his wanton disregard for the woman’s suffering.

  His angry glare bored into me as he snatched his steaming mug of coffee from the tray and downed it in a few massive gulps. He slammed the mug down before shoving rashers of bacon into his mouth.

  I couldn’t watch anymore. I pushed back all my pain and grabbed the covered plate, leaving the drinks on the tray. I made it only a couple steps before I was forced to sit on the floor or risk a swan dive onto the concrete. I pushed myself harder still as I slid myself over to the bars and dragged my tray with me.

  Jeffery silently pleaded with me, violently shaking his head while he shoveled the last of his breakfast into his mouth. His face filled with dread as he stared, yet he remained silent.

  “Fuck you!” I raged. “This is for her! I’ll get out of here, and if you so much as sniff this I’ll kill you!”

  Turning the plate sideways and holding the cover down tight to prevent anything from spilling, I fed it through the bars. With all the strength I could muster, I shoved it across the hall, bits of scrambled egg bouncing on the concrete as it scooted across the floor. The metal plate hit the bars with a clang, sending the cover flying.

  “There’s plenty of food there! Pick it up and feed her you ass!”

  The man stared at me, and did something I did not expect. He dropped to his knees, hands clasped in front of him, and wept. He shook his head, lips quivering as shuddering sobs wracked his body.

  “Why?” he mouthed.

  The loud clack of the lock echoed through the cells and interrupted me before I could speak. As the clomp of several footsteps rapidly closed on us, I heard Professor’s all too familiar voice again.

  “That was your breakfast,” he said, strolling up to my cell. “No one else shall eat it. Those were my exact words, were they not, Mr. Foster?”

  “I said I wasn’t hungry,” I snapped.

  “I don�
��t remember giving you that option,” he said. “Mr. Parker, I believe you know what must be done.”

  “I love this part,” Larry said as he walked up to my bars, a large set of bolt cutters in his hand. “You make sure you watch real close. I want you to see everything.” He grinned, his yellow toothy smile dripping with malice and utter elation.

  “What are you doing?!” I demanded.

  “Only what you have forced upon her,” Professor smiled. “My rules are to be followed without question. There are consequences for disobedience.”

  “Her? She didn’t do anything! Leave her alone,” I shouted as Larry opened the cell door across from mine.

  “Get up, Lover Boy,” he snarled. “Against the wall!”

  “Robert,” Professor called out. “Please assist Mr. Parker.”

  “Yes sir,” a nasally voice came from down the hall. A skinny teenaged boy rushed down the hall and into the cell, a chrome pistol much too big for his lanky figure seated in his hand. The telltale puncture wounds and track marks of an IV drug user marred his arms.

  “Make sure he doesn’t move,” Larry barked over his shoulder. “Don’t screw this one up, Bobby.”

  “I won’t,” the teenager snapped. “Ain’t that right, bitch?” he said, scowling at Jeffery. He grabbed Jeffery and shoved his face to the wall, pressing his pistol against his temple. “We gon’ fuck up your girl real good, right Larry?”

  “Shut up, Bobby!” Larry snapped, turning his attention to me. “You watching, smart-ass?”

  “Stop!” I pleaded. “She didn’t do anything!”

  The Professor simply smiled at me, his eyes filled with joy as he listened to me beg for the woman’s mercy. His eyes all but danced with excitement as they darted between the scene in the opposite cell and my own.

  “Watch close now, or I’ll have to do this again,” Larry laughed as he dropped his knee onto the woman’s cot, a yelp of pain bellowing from underneath the shivering sheets. He turned the bolt cutters in his hand, pointing the sharp end downward, and snipped.