This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope

by James D. Dean

  Everyone that comprised my little group of survivors flowed through my mind in a raging torrent. I wouldn’t be there to help keep Lexi and Jane safe. I wouldn’t be able to help rewire the bus with Joe, or sit and have a beer with Matt. I wouldn’t be able to thank Rosa for everything she had done for me, or give Anna grief for marrying into the Foster clan to begin with.

  I was stuck in a cell with two strangers for companions, waiting for the moment this Professor asshole decided to use us for his twisted enjoyment or for Larry to finally snap and simply shoot me. It wasn’t limbo or purgatory. I was in hell. My thoughts were my demons and my guilt was my torturer.

  “Oh Jesus,” I said under my breath. With shaking hands I counted out the days since Abby had died. It was the last time I knew exactly what the date was. I counted the time on the farm, our days on the run, and the weeks I’d already spent as Professor’s special guest.

  I buried my face in the thin pillow so no one could hear me weep. The tears flowed nonstop, still trickling from my eyes even after the morning sun poked back over the horizon.

  I’d missed Katie’s birthday.

  My little girl…was seven.

  Chapter 35

  “Daaaniel.”

  The voice dug into my restless mind like a parasite working its way through my ears to feed on what little gray matter I had left.

  “Mister Foooster.”

  Again, the smug arrogance of his voice weaseled into my semi-conscious mind. My smoldering anger rekindled as his mocking tone pulled me out of my restless sleep.

  “You better have some coffee waiting for me or you and I are going to have some serious words,” I said through a yawn.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Foster,” Professor said, his sickening smile evident in his tone. “You slept through breakfast, and nearly missed lunch.”

  “What do you want?” I demanded, feeling in no mood to humor the man that day.

  “Well, to chat of course,” he said with far more cheer than I felt like hearing.

  “Don’t you have your doped-up minions for that?”

  “I have workers, yes,” he admitted. “But they are not very interesting I’m afraid. They are more like worker drones, toiling away at whatever mission I set them upon.”

  “Like worker bees?” I asked. “So that makes you what? Their queen?”

  “Mr. Foster,” he chuckled. “Let’s not debase ourselves by attacking each other’s masculinity. You are far too interesting. You have no need to lower yourself to such base insults.”

  “Why?!” I snapped, rolling in my cot to face him. “What is it about me that has you drawn to me like a dog after a boner.”

  “You mean bone,” he corrected me.

  “I know what I said,” I smiled.

  “I see,” he said simply. “Honestly, when you first came to us I believed you to be a waste of my time. I was originally inclined to let Larry do with you as he pleased. But I saw your etching on your weapon and you suddenly drew my interest. I had hoped you were a man of better refinement. Someone who could appreciate classic literature such as The Divine Comedy. So I must know, did you find this weapon already inscribed, or was it done by your hand?”

  “I did it,” I said.

  “Ah, excellent,” he smiled. “Was I correct in thinking you know the story of Dante and his travels through the inferno?”

  “You forgot Paradiso,” I said.

  “Wonderful!” he clapped in excitement. “You have read Divina Commedia!”

  “Nope,” I grinned. “History Channel did a special on it. Call it the Cliffs Notes version.”

  “I see,” he deflated, his smile fading away with a scowl taking its place. The man did not like to be fooled. “What is the purpose of the message?”

  “I was bored,” I said.

  “Oh Daniel, can we please dispense with the lies?” he asked, the corners of his lips curling up slightly. “The letters inscribed were not done out of sheer boredom. They are too perfectly formed, too well defined. This was not done for a momentary break from monotony. You wanted people to see it. Why?”

  “It’s a warning,” I said coldly. “A warning for anyone who crosses me or someone I care about.”

  “And who is it that you care for?” he asked, his glistening teeth exposed as his smile crept back to his face.

  “I kind of miss the ice cream man,” I said, turning away from him. “I do love me some orange dreamsicles.”

  “Now, Mr. Foster—” he began as if readying to chastise me.

  “You know what!” I interrupted him. “I have some questions for you! I’m getting a little tired of these one sided conversations, Jakey. Like, what the hell gives you the right to lock people up like this and torture them for your own amusement?”

  “Simple,” he answered without any sign of change in his demeanor. “Really Daniel, the world as it is now has opened up unique opportunities for one such as myself, and people such as yourself. For example, you see a car on the side of the road that piques your interest. In the old world you would leave it where it was without any nefarious thoughts running through your mind. Now, you think nothing of just taking it. People are taking what they want whether they need it or not. Call it survival, call it living, or call it greed. The simple fact is that I am as human as anyone else when presented with this new world. I do what I do…because I can.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” I replied. “Most people still have morals that keep them from—”

  “Morals!” he roared, laughing until his face reddened behind his graying beard. “Who’s morals are these? Yours? Abby’s? Some clergyman out there who has spent his life fleecing the very flock he proposes to serve? Who’s to say that your morals should override mine? Who are you to question the morality of my search to understand the darkest part of the human mind?! Morals are very subjective, Mr. Foster.”

  “Understand the human mind?!” It was my turn to roar. “You don’t try to understand anything! You play Mother Superior, looking down on us like we’re lower than dirt, yet instead of trying to learn something about us you sit back in your chair smiling like a school boy getting his first hummer while the people you kidnap suffer and die! You’re like a kid with a new toy! You play with it until you get bored, and then you break it…Professor!” I snapped, mocking his chosen name.

  The room grew silent as I waited for the man to call his goon patrol to come in and start cutting off things I wanted to keep where God had placed them. I glanced beyond the man see Jeff sitting straight up in his cot, staring at me with wide eyes, his jaw nearly in his lap.

  Instead, ole’ Jakey leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in front of his face, his eyes poking out over his knuckles. His laugh started slow, rumbling from deep within his stomach, building until the prison chamber resonated with his maniacal merriment.

  “Excellent Mr. Foster!” he all but shouted, launching himself forward and clapping his hands. “You do not fear me. You speak out against me despite the knowledge that I could have your life snuffed out with a wave of my hand. You will not be broken easily. You…are going to be so much fun!”

  “I can’t wait,” I said sarcastically.

  “I’m sure,” he said settling back into his chair. “Now I know you speak your mind. So I will make this offer to you. You say you are unhappy with our one sided chats. I must admit it does get tiresome. I believe that a bit of quid pro quo is in order. For every answer you give me, I will allow you one of your own.”

  “How very generous,” I mocked. “Are we going to prattle on over a merlot and moldy cheese?”

  “I am making a very generous offer, Mr. Foster,” he said, somewhat taken aback. “It is not one I have ever made before, nor is it one I shall make again.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to make my false apology as convincing as possible. The truth was if I ever wanted to get out of Dr. Lecter’s fun house, I needed as much information as I could get. “I shouldn’t have been so hast
y. I happily accept your offer.”

  “Very good,” he said. “I will even allow you the first question.”

  “How do your worker bees handle the dead without getting bit themselves?”

  “Interesting choice,” he said. “I’ve been able to develop a treatment of sorts with the help of the…mutations.”

  “Mutations?” I asked. “You mean the black-eyed screamers?”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s as good a name as any.”

  “How does it work?” I demanded.

  “Now, now,” he wagged his finger at me. “You have already asked three questions, you do not get a fourth. Let’s not be greedy. I will say that you will see how it’s done soon enough.”

  “It was a follow-up to my actual question.”

  “A follow-up question is still a question, Mr. Foster.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Don’t pout,” he scolded. “It’s unbecoming. Now, what was it that caused you so much anguish that you spent the night sobbing into your pillow?”

  The look on my face must have telegraphed my surprise to the man. Despite the fact that I had some idea that he had been watching us, getting slapped in the face with the reality of it still caught me off guard.

  “I was thinking about Abby,” I answered, which was not a full lie. It was partial truth, which was better than no truth at all. Right?

  “Oh?” he responded, lifting an eyebrow questioningly. “I thought you would be thinking about your dear daughter Katie. She’s seven now according to your phone’s calendar. She is a very lovely child, I would love to meet her one day.”

  “She’s dead,” I blurted without thinking. The fact that he knew so much about my family terrified and sickened me. I’d forgotten he had my phone, and with it came intimate knowledge of my life and family.

  “She was trapped in the house when we left. Almost everyone died trying to save her. When we got away, I split from the rest of my group. That’s why I was out there alone,” I replied, trying to convince myself of the lie. The man was no moron, and I would not get away with deception if I didn’t fully commit to it.

  “I am sorry to hear that,” he said smugly. “I am curious though, why so much sadness for your spouse who I fully believe has passed, but none for such an adorable little child?”

  “Because I didn’t want to hear her name come from you or anyone else here,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back in his chair again, the material crunching underneath him. “You are, or were, her father. It’s your duty to protect her from people like me.”

  I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, feigning anger when all I felt was unbridled fear. I couldn’t allow him to see through my lies. I had to protect my daughter in any way I could.

  “Though I do have a question,” he said after letting me stew for a few moments. “All this time you have not spoken of your brother and his death. I can see from your photo album that your brother had a family too. His wife Anna and his own child, Faith.”

  “They were in a car that got overwhelmed by the same horde that attacked the farmhouse,” I snapped. “I told you, almost everyone died, and I haven’t talked to anyone else since I left the others! I didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to relive it!”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” he said. “It must have been horrible. Did Katie scream when she was eaten? Can you imagine the pain and absolute terror she must have endured when her young mind suddenly had to come to grips with watching her own tender flesh be ripped from her bones by monsters that you assured her did not exist when you tucked her in at night?”

  “Fuck you!” I screamed in white hot rage. Despite the pain that wracked my body, I launched myself out of my cot toward the man. Slamming into the bars, I reached out to grab any part of him that I could get my hands on until my broken body gave in. I slid to the floor in defeat as I leaned my head against the bars.

  He simply stared at me, his toothy grin plastered across his face. He had not moved, knowing he was safely outside of my reach. Watching my outburst followed by my acceptance of defeat only served to add glints of elation to his dark stare.

  “What kind of monster are you?” I asked just above a whisper.

  “Ah,” he clapped. “I almost forgot. It is your turn isn’t it? And what a fantastic question it is! What kind of monster am I? I am the kind of monster you never hear of, and only meet when it’s too late. I am the kind that hides in plain sight, wandering from junior college to junior college to teach young, innocent minds. At one school I was a philosophy teacher, and the next I was a chemist. My last one, and you will find the humor in this, I was an ethics professor. Every move brought a new name and a new identity. Do you have any idea how easy it is to enter the myriad of junior colleges when they realize they have an Ivy League educated man willing to take up the reigns? It’s marvelously simple. Once a few of their brightest fall into my web, I move on, leaving the authorities scratching their heads wondering why these bright children would suddenly decide to leave home for parts unknown. I’m that kind of monster, Mr. Foster.”

  I had no words. His eyes bore down on me, as if waiting for my reaction. I was exhausted, enraged, and filled with icy terror of what this nut job would find in my phone.

  “Silence, Mr. Foster?” he said at last. “I’m somewhat shocked. It seems as though you always have a sharp tongued retort for me. Please tell me I haven’t broken you already?”

  “No worries, Jakey,” I said through the turbulent emotions waging war within me. “I’m still here to kick you when you’re down.”

  “I have another question for you before I go,” he said, standing and stretching, his arms raising high above his head as pops and snaps emanated from his joints.

  “Gettin’ a little long in the tooth there gramps?” I snarked.

  “I’m afraid not,” he answered as he finished his stretch. “I am quite fit, more than capable really. I sat for a long time waiting for you to awaken.”

  “As if you weren’t creepy enough,” I said, pulling myself to my feet with the heavy steel bars. “Now you watch me sleep too? Next you’ll tell me you watch me pee.”

  “I’m always watching,” he said matter of factly.

  “Ah,” I replied, limping back to my cot while fighting off the ever present dizziness. “You’re the dirty old man of the neighborhood then.”

  “Back to the insults again,” he sighed, lifting his chair and moving it back down the hallway to whatever place he stored it when not picking my brain and sifting through my thoughts. “I’d hoped we’d moved beyond that,” he finished as he returned to my cell.

  “Yeah, well fill one hand with hope and the other with crap. See which one fills up faster.” I lay back down, attempting to rub away the building headache that lurked just behind my eyes.

  “Interesting,” he mused. “But as I said, I had one more question for you.”

  “Shoot,” I said. “But can you keep it under a few syllables, Jakey? You have one of those voices that can grate on one’s nerves, you know?”

  He sighed deeply. I looked over to see his face reddening, jaw clenched. His fists balled up and shook, his eyes locked on me as if he was trying to will me dead from a distance.

  I got under his skin, which is definitely in the strong column of my known talents.

  “Mr. Foster,” he hissed. “I told you to call me Professor.”

  “That’s right,” I feigned concern. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting…Professor Jakey.”

  His head dropped, eyes to the floor. His fists reddened, knuckles turning ghostly white. He took several deep breaths as his whole body trembled.

  Jeff shook his head wildly at me, eyes unbelievably wide. Tanya peeked out from under her sheet, her hands clasped in front of her mouth. Her eyes looked like they were screaming in terror, and I had no doubt she expected to watch me die in the next few minutes.

  Professor inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly as the
tension in his body appeared to melt away. He lifted his head, his gaze falling back to me as his wolf like grin spread across his face once more.

  “You do like to test me, don’t you Daniel?” he asked, a tinge of building frustration seeping into his words.

  “It’s a gift,” I replied, my own tension slowly leaving my body. Tanya might have been terrified for me, but I will easily admit I had shit a pile of ten ton bricks waiting to see what the man would do.

  “Well,” he said, his condescending blue blood accent returning in full force. “I have a gift for you then. Jason would like you to know he is on his way to the farm.”

  “What?!” I snapped, shooting up in my cot as pain rocketed through my midsection. The room took another tilt-a-whirl ride for a moment before it calmed back down to the normal merry-go-round speed. “You’re lying! He’s dead, just like everyone else!”

  “I’m afraid not,” he returned, holding my phone in the air for me to see. “He’s very much alive, or at least he was the night after you became my guest. I told him you were in good hands. I will refrain from repeating the rather despicable comments he made at me afterwards. There are ladies present,” he smiled, waving his hand towards Tanya’s cell.

  “You better hope he doesn’t find you,” I warned. “Those dead cannibals outside will be more merciful with you than he will.”

  “You know, he did say something interesting,” he returned, ignoring my threat. “He said he and Chris would find me.”

  Bladder emptying fear tore through my chest and spread like a cancer through my body. I’d foolishly thought I could hold my own against the man through our entire conversation. He’d played me, and I fell for it.

  “Isn’t that an odd thing to say?” he continued, clearly reading the fear in my face. “Now how else would he know you were taken from all the way in Arizona unless someone told him? So I would assume he would know that Chris had died as you told me before. I’ll be more honest with you than you have been with me. I know your brother is alive, along with your daughter and the rest of your party.”