The Dead Saga: Odium 0.5 (Nina's Story)

by Riley, Claire C.

  Once again I can’t help but be grateful that Ben and I had not stopped to have children. Because I don’t think I would cope in this world with children. I already feel fiercely protective of Lucy and Adam, and they aren’t even mine, but as each day passes and I welcome myself back from the dark depths I had sunk to, I recognize how fiercely I would defend these children if I had to.

  I can understand the sacrifices that Amanda is willing to make for her children, the things she is willing to give up just to keep them strong…to keep them alive. I understand it and I respect her for it.

  I spoon another mouthful of stew into my mouth, jumping as gunfire sounds from outside and pierces the silence that had descended over the room of hungry people. I flinch, dropping my spoon into my bowl and sending hot splashes of liquid over my hands. But I barely notice; my sole attention is on the guards that look at each other and cursed. The gunfire sounds again and they both drop the trays of food at their feet and take off running outside to join in whatever fight is breaking out.

  There is a split second of total silence as we all stare at one another in a tsunami of mixed emotions—fear, anxiety, and then hunger as all eyes turn to the spilled food on the ground and every civilian within distance of it dives forward with eager grabbing hands. They snatch up bowls and scoop at tipped-over contents, swallowing the food down as quickly as possible and ignoring the burns to their mouths and tongues.

  The greedier people get, the angrier others become, and what started as a frenzy for food rapidly begins to develop into something else. More and more people move forward, pushing and shoving each other to get to whatever scraps are left, until eventually, from somewhere within the mass of writhing people, a fight breaks out. Everyone here is desperate. We are desperate for everything—for warmth, for life, and for more food. We are starving; I can’t blame them for being this way, but as the violence takes hold of them panic swells in my chest.

  People surge forward; some cry out in pain from being trampled on—fingers trodden on and ribs kicked. Men begin to fight men, and all the while the sound of guns firing continues to ring loud and true in the background.

  I feel the bump of a body next to me and look over as Amanda scoots closer, both of her children squeezed tightly to her side, bowls of hot food now forgotten about. I don’t have to think twice about it, but instantly discard my own bowl of food and embrace them to me. There is no way any of us are going to get into a fight over food. Not like this; so weak and vulnerable—not to mention unarmed. I would willingly let them take our food if it means they leave both me and this family alone.

  Lucy is squeezed between Amanda and me, and her little shoulders bob as she cries silently, as the room continues to erupt into further chaos and anarchy.

  “What should we do?” Amanda yells against the growing noise.

  What should we do? What can we do is more the question. We are two unarmed, malnourished women in the middle of madness. There isn’t anything we can do other than protect Lucy and Adam as best we can by shielding them from as much of the violence as possible.

  I watch in horror as a man tussles a woman to the ground, her hair already covered in blood from a head wound. The sight of the blood makes my veins turn cold. Stew is spilled down the front of her sweater and a child, presumably hers, watches on with tears in his eyes as the man punches her over and over and over until the fight finally leaves her fragile body, and she lies still and silent.

  It seems absurd, for us to be fighting and killing over food, especially when this energy could have been going to better uses—like helping one another break out from under the heavy weight of Lee’s dictatorship—and yet here we are. Reduced to our most animalistic ways in the search for a stomach full of fulfilment. People are so blinded by their own selfish needs, never seeing the bigger picture.

  To the left I watch as the old man from the other day stalks forward, his eyes on Adam, and I feel my gut clench in equal parts terror and anger. In the midst of everything going on, both inside and outside of this room, he is using this moment to try and take what he wants.

  My chest heaves with the heavy burden of panic, and I glance quickly at Amanda. Her own head is bowed down low as she kisses the tops of her children’s heads and whispers reassuring things to them. She is oblivious, completely oblivious of the devil stalking his way toward her child. But I am not.

  My eyes flit both left and right in search of something, anything that I can use to protect us, but all I can find is my half empty bowl of food. He is within ten feet of us now, and his gaze collides with mine, his lips pulling back in a snarl as he saw the hateful look on my face. I will myself to stay calm, to still my nerves, to think of a better plan other than the one I have in mind. Because my plan sucks.

  The stamping of feet from outside draws my attention for a second, but they are gone before I even have the chance to focus on them, the noise of their heavy steps drowned out by the sound of more gunfire. Bile and panic rise in my throat as the unknown horror of what is happening out there flashes images in my mind of possible scenarios.

  The old man is almost directly in front of us now, and Amanda has finally looked up, aware of the terror that stalks her son. Her soothing hushes die to nothing as she sees the intent on his face, and a single tear slips from her eye.

  “Please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. I can give you anything that you need—” The panicked words fall from her lips as she pleads over and over with him.

  I curl my hands into fists, and when the man takes another step forward I spring at him like a wild animal, intent on doing only one thing—killing him.

  My body collides with his legs, and I wrap my arms around them and slam him to the ground. He is stronger than me, but not massively so, and I have the added advantage of rage burning through me. All the anger and hatred I have held inside of me for the past couple of months—I release it. I finally, mercifully, just let it go…

  “Get off me!” he yells in my face, his huge fist connecting with my cheekbone, and the sound of something cracking in my face makes me see stars. But I don’t relent. I climb atop his body like one of the undead themselves, and I pin him to the ground by my knees, my hands finding their way to his head and cupping either side of it.

  “Get off me, you crazy bitch!” He spits in my face, his body still writhing under me in an attempt to get free from me. And I almost let him go. I’ve scared him shitless, surely that is enough? But then his gaze slips away from mine for a split second, looking toward Adam, and the fragile sanity that I’m holding onto disappears.

  I grip his head and slam it hard against the concrete ground.

  “You won’t hurt him!” I scream into the man’s face as I slam his head again.

  Tremors from the impact run up my arms. They sicken me and yet in some deep dark part of me, I welcome them. I slam again, his body bucking and nearly throwing me off of him, but I grit my teeth and slam over and over and over until blood oozes from his ears and his eyes grow dazed and far off.

  I slam and slam, the burning rage still rushing through me like a bushfire that refuses to die down, that refuses to be extinguished. Because in this cold, hard world, I have nothing else left but my rage. My rage keeps me alive. And I refuse to be extinguished.

  I slam his head down, willing his vile perverted brain to leak out onto the floor beneath him, soaking us both in the glory of his death. It is sickening but I want it. I want to feel his life drain away. I want to hold his head in my hands and know that I have killed him—this pathetic excuse of a man, of a survivor. Because of all the good people in this world that had died, this piece of trash had lived, and he didn’t deserve to.

  I am his god and I will right this wrong, right here, right now.

  I need to show the world and myself that I still have some control in this so-called life. That I’m not weak, but I am strong and I can protect if protection is needed. That I am something to be feared.

  I just need to feel someth
ing other than anger and hate for one brief moment. And my elation begs to be felt in the form of someone’s death.

  “Nina!” Amanda’s cries bring me out of the darkness and I look across at her, tears blurring my vision. “Stop, just stop,” she begs, her trembling hands covering both Adam and Lucy’s faces as their cries tear out of their sweet mouths.

  The man’s limp body lies beneath me, his blood on my hands, his accusatory stare looking blankly up into my face, and I cry as I looked at his crumpled skull. Just like the fury that I had finally allowed to come, now I allow the tears. Because like the fury I had kept tightly inside of me, so had the tears been kept at bay. But now I let it all go.

  I cry and wipe at my face as the tears bleed over my cheeks. I can’t look at her—Amanda—nor her children. I have become a monster, just like the men that keep us here, just like the dictator that rules this place, and just like the deaders that roam the earth.

  I am the monster to these children now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five.

  “Run, Nina, you have to run.”

  “I can’t leave you, I can’t survive on my own, not without you/” I cried, my tears hot on my cheeks.

  Ben cupped my face in his hands, his brown eyes staring into mine. “You can, you have to, baby. You have to do whatever it takes to live—”

  “But—”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  He leaned over and pressed his lips to mine and I fell into him, getting lost in his love, in his strength, in him.

  “Wakey wakey, rise and shine.”

  I open my eyes, slowly blinking against the grit that has dried on my lashes over the past couple of hours. My hands are tied behind my back, and have been for over twenty-four hours now. My shoulders ache from being in the same position for so long, but it’s my head that hurts the most. My head that had had the butt of a gun smashed into it.

  I stay lying down, blinking away the blur as my eyes come back into focus. I am in a small room which is being used as a makeshift cell. My arms are tied behind my back and my feet are tied together at the ankles. I am lying on my side, feeling groggy and aching all over, but Tash comes over and drags me up to sitting, leaning me back against the cold wall so I have to look up at him.

  He stares down into my face, a sadistic grin on his mouth. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  I don’t answer him but he continues talking anyway.

  “I was there, the day you arrived. I was just a boy then, I’d only been in the army a week or so when the world went to shit. It was the best thing that ever happened to me—the world ending.”

  I hold his stare, keeping my expression neutral, but I’m not really listening to him.

  “I saw you pull up. You were so sad because you had lost someone and you didn’t know whether to stay here or not. I bet you’re glad you did now, huh?” He laughs. “I know I am.” He trails a hand up my arm and bile rises in my throat.

  I don’t care what happens to me now. I had been over to the side of insanity and when I returned, there had been something missing. A part of me stayed there, in hell, and I don’t care to have it back.

  I had killed—murdered—and with my bare hands no less, his blood still crusty and dry under the beds of my nails. My reasons may have been justified, but my mind is still struggling to accept what I had done. The look on Amanda’s face…on her children’s faces. They had looked at me like I was a monster, and perhaps I was. When did I think it had become okay or acceptable to kill someone by crushing their skull? They would never forgive me, and those children would never look at me with innocent eyes again. I had destroyed that.

  Tash’s hand make contact with my cheek, harder than necessary but not a full-on slap by any means. It’s enough to get my attention, though. I blink up at him, my expression still impassive though my mind is wrought with my crime and running riot with different scenarios of what will happen next.

  “Hey, look sharp. You’re off to see Lee. He has a little surprise in order for you.” He bends down, unties my ankles, and drags me up to standing.

  I swallow, run my dry tongue over my cracked lips, and allow him to pull me out of the room, all the while my fury growing in the depths of my belly.

  This is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening, not to me. I am a good person. This isn’t me. I don’t kill people—smash their skulls in and cry over their bodies. Psychos do that, not me. How did I get here? These are the things I have been asking myself for the past twenty-four hours, and I still have no way of answering them.

  The hallway is cold, but it’s colder still as Tash pulls me outside and into the frigid night air. The wind howls and blows fiercely around my body. My sweater and coat were stripped from me before my hands were tied, and now all I wear is a thin T-shirt and bloodstained jeans.

  Somewhere in the distance I hear crying, the distant wail of someone’s anguish. But I can’t pinpoint where it is coming from; their misery bounces around the confines of the compound and rattles inside my brain. The tears, the pain, it all burrows deep within me until I can feel this person’s pain as if it is my own.

  “Where are we going?” I manage to get out of my parched mouth, but Tash doesn’t answer, barely registering that I have spoken as he continues to pull me over to the far wall, where the main entrance is.

  I stumble after him, my toes already feeling numb from the cold. On the far side of the compound is the main entrance, large, wide doors that keep us all inside, safe, and protected…I laugh at the sentiment. Lee is standing under a small shelter with several other people, and as we get closer my brain begins to register who they are: Amanda and Adam, Carter, and at least three other guards.

  But there is no Lucy.

  Amanda is crying, her arms clinging to Adam. But it’s Carter that I’m drawn to. His face is a swollen bloody pulp, the front of his jacket soaked in dried blood and his hands tied behind him like mine. He has been stripped of all his weapons and anything and everything that made him a soldier. One eye is completely swollen shut and the other is a mere slit, but he focuses that one eye on me.

  And still I can’t see Lucy.

  I stumble, tripping as my legs begin to give way underneath me, but Tash continues to pull me forward regardless until we are standing in front of Lee. His face is harsh, older-looking than I remember from the last time I saw him. He almost looks weak in my eyes. Just an angry middle-aged man who wants to rule the world. Yet deep down, I know he is everything I have to fear.

  “I won’t waste anymore of everyone’s time. Instead, let’s get straight to the point: the man you killed, I needed him.” Lee steps forward, his gaze on mine. “He was helping me with things…things you can’t even begin to fathom, and now he’s dead and I’m at odds with what to do with the little progress we had made.”

  I strain to hear what he’s saying above the wind and Amanda’s crying and my own heart hammering in my chest like a drum. Tash’s hand on my arm is tight, purposefully so.

  Where is Lucy? my mind screams.

  “He was about to—” I speak, my words soft and shaky.

  “I don’t care! What I was trying to achieve was more important than whatever rancid greedy thought he was having,” Lee yells, his voice booming and drowning out all other thoughts.

  Tears spring to my eyes, and I grit my teeth together hard to stop them chattering from both the cold and fear. My eyes focus in on Amanda, but she has her face buried against Adam’s hair, her arms wrapped so tightly around him that I fear she might crush his frail body with hers at any moment.

  “Now, with that being said, punishments need to fit the crime.” Lee’s gaze finally met my own. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” He nods once to Tash, who pulls out his pistol and shoots Amanda in the head.

  She slumps to the ground, pulling Adam with her, blood trickling out of the hole in her forehead. Adam screams and yells for his mama over and over, covering her lifeless body with his small one. A scream catches in my throat as Tas
h fires again and Adam stills, the back of his head a mess of blood and bone, and then I collapse to my knees, the cold sludge of thawing snow pooling around my freezing legs.

  Tash doesn’t try to stop me. His hand releases me to the earth as a scream tries to break free of my lips. But instead of noise, all that escapes is silence. My mouth hangs open in horror as tears fall from my eyes.

  I can’t cry out.

  My voice has vanished, fled from this useless body that allows people to die all around it while it grudgingly continues on. I stare at both mother and son, at their dead bodies and the blood staining the earth around them, and something inside of me breaks and dies. I will never be whole again.

  “Now that we have that dealt with, we can focus on the other matter.”

  I look up at Lee as he turns away from me, focusing his attention on Carter. My gaze moves to Carter, whose one good eye is locked on me.

  “This silly bastard tried to be a hero, tried to start an uprising of some sorts to out me and my soldiers.” Lee laughs, and from my right I hear Tash laugh too. “Unfortunately, he trusted the wrong men and now look at where we are.” He walks toward Carter, blocking my view of him, and I strain to hear him over the wind.

  Lee walks away from Carter, glancing over at the two soldiers flanking him, who then drag Carter over to the main doors. A soldier yells down something and the doors begin to open, and I get my first glimpse of the world beyond these walls.

  Everything is dead and gray, the horizon a bleak canvas of destruction. Carter is dragged over to the doors at the same time that Tash drags me back up to standing, my teeth now chattering freely.

  “You need to watch this.” He grins down at me.

  Lee stops pacing and stands in front of Carter. “There are no heroes. Not anymore. There are only the weak or the strong. Only those who live and those who die. And you, my friend, have chosen to die.” He turns to face the rest of us, and I wait with baited breath for the crack of the gunshot. “I sentence Carter Andrews to life outside of these walls…to a death outside these walls.” Lee smiles almost proudly at me. “This community is under my watch, my protection, and my rule! These men, that protect this community, they do so because of the choices I let them have, the control that I give them. Don’t ever try to take that away from them or me, because if you do…this is what happens.”