“Touch me again and I will murder you,” I warned in my most threatening growl.
This incited a low chuckle from him and my heart started hammering in my chest for an entirely different reason now. Fear was replaced with white, blinding anger; panic was replaced by clear purpose and compliance was easily substituted by a stubborn rebellion that raced and sprinted through my veins.
The bastard didn’t listen.
He grasped my hands that hung tight and fisted at my sides and with shocking gentleness pulled them behind my back. I felt the biting cold of the metal as he snapped the cuffs into place. My shoulders and biceps were already pulling against the restraints and I knew I needed to relax, or my arms would be completely useless by the time I could have access to them again.
“Walk,” the guy behind me ordered.
Vaughan didn’t move. And neither did I.
The guy behind me put his two hands on my shoulders, their size and strength completely eclipsing my seemingly petite frame by comparison. He gave me a mild push forward and warned, “Walk or I’ll carry you.”
I walked.
Vaughan was next to me in an instant. His shoulder brushed and bumped against mine as he made an effort to walk as close to me as he could while our arms were awkwardly tied behind our backs.
My attention fell to the forest floor. My body was now off balance and it took my full concentration to navigate the uneven terrain. And it was for this reason alone I saw one of the young gunmen stick out their foot and trip Vaughan.
He fell immediately forward and without the brace of hands to catch him, went down heavily. I stopped and gasped in outrage. He somehow managed to keep his head and face away from the ground, but his body bowed in the mud and I could physically feel his seething anger.
I paused to wait for him, to help share in his frustration and powerlessness, but the guy behind me urged me forward with another hand on the center of my back. “Keep moving,” he demanded.
I had no choice, at least in this moment, but to obey. But I did so slowly, very, very slowly. After I listened intently for Vaughan to struggle to his feet and when I was satisfied they were close behind us I turned my attention back to the path I was walking and the captor now at my side.
“That was on purpose,” I observed. “To separate us.”
“To separate you,” he confirmed.
I glanced over at him and took him in for the first time. He was as tall as any of the Parker brothers but more thickly built. Where Hendrix and Vaughan were lean, sculpted muscle, this guy was thick, bulking power. He shoulders were insanely wide and his biceps and forearms bulged with unquestionable strength. He was obviously well fed, not that he was fat, he was the opposite of that, but only a steady supply of nutrition and protein could accomplish a physical form like that in today’s day and age. He had a dark, thick mop of wavy hair that was kept shortly cut and styled.
His face was cleanly shaven and showed off a strong jaw, angled cheek bones and thick, black lashes. His crooked nose was the only imperfect feature on his face, a notch at the top signaled he had broken it at least once. He was gorgeous.
And that surprised me.
But in the kind of way that made me sick to my stomach and want to vomit. Cold, distant, serial-killer kind of beautiful. It was hard to reconcile. His looks were just obviously perfect, but he had this effect…. like he was going to murder your puppies or cut out your heart and eat it.
“Where are you taking us?” I asked in a level voice. For some reason knowing he was beautiful made me relax some. It shouldn’t have, especially since nothing outside of his physical features was reassuring, but I calmed a little anyway.
“To town,” he answered easily.
I took another steadying breath. This had to be the same town that Hendrix and Nelson were “visiting.” So whether they’d been captured like us, or were still working out a way to find medicine for Page, we would most likely run into them.
“You look… well fed,” I commented dryly. I didn’t understand my need to talk to him, but it seemed to rattle my nerves; by starting conversation and forcing him to answer I felt like I had some control of this situation.
“I am.” Another answer. He wasn’t very secretive.
For some reason I imagined cold killers to be secretive. He was throwing me.
Although he wasn’t very forthcoming either.
“How?” I asked incredulously. “How are you well fed?”
We had come to the edge of the forest. A high school spread out before us including a football field and track with metal bleachers on both sides. Beyond that stretched a soccer field and baseball diamond. The school itself was completely brick, with no visible windows on this side of the building.
The sun was finally a presence in the sky and early morning light spilled across the school property bringing the empty silence that surrounded us into sharp display. Two years ago this was probably brand new, or relatively new. The bleachers were still shiny, the buildings still intact and the grass almost green.
My stoic captor shot me a grave look and admitted, “We eat our prisoners.”
I had no idea if he was serious or joking. It seemed odd that he would joke with me, but then it seemed worse that he could be serious. I stared at him, deep into his gray eyes and looked for truth. There was nothing but a challenge meeting me and it unnerved me worse than his gun to my head.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” his friend hollered from behind, his drawl thick and heavy. “I never heard a one of Kane’s prisoners complain!”
“Oh, god.” My stomach roiled and convulsed.
Kane cleared his throat but didn’t offer an explanation. Two things were clear in that moment. The first was that neither Kane nor his friends actually ate people.
The second was that Kane was used to getting his way with girls.
Shit.
We were quiet the rest of the way. I could practically feel Vaughan’s protective shield as he walked behind me. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to us.
At the door to the school, we paused while Kane took a moment to pull out a large set of keys. I looked up and took note of the men patrolling the roof and swung my gaze wide, realizing there were armed men everywhere. The front of the school sat on a little plot of property but beyond that was a tiny, closely-built town with an adorable downtown. Neighborhoods sprawled to the sides of the main street and extended beyond my visibility.
Just as he pulled up the right key, someone called out Kane’s name and grabbed his attention. While the guard walked over with two more in tow, Vaughan’s guards turned to the other men too and I took the opportunity to have my own meeting with Vaughan.
“What the hell!” I mouthed.
“Reagan, listen to me,” he whispered sternly. Apparently, he saw the same precious seconds as I did. “Whatever happens, you need to meet me tonight. Under those bleachers.”
“Why are you-“
“I don’t know what they’re going to do to us, or where they’re going to keep us. But if I had to guess….. Kane is…. I don’t think they’ll keep us together.” Vaughan’s words were bitter and hard steel. He glanced over at the man in question and back to me, imploring me to listen. “Whatever happens, you need to get there. By midnight. Can you?”
I nodded. “Can you?”
“Whatever it takes,” he agreed.
“Whatever it takes,” I echoed. “And Hendrix and Nelson?”
“I’ll find them. Don’t worry about them.” When I snorted as if that were impossible he bit out. “Just worry about taking care of yourself, yeah?”
New fear built like a raging volcano inside me, “Yeah.”
“They’re going to ask questions,” he dropped his voice to barely above a whisper and I had to read his lips to understand him. “Have you ever played that game, Two Truths and a Lie?”
I looked at him like he was crazy. “Yes.” I finally admitted, feeling like we would be ripped a
part at any moment.
“That’s the key to interrogation,” he explained quickly. “Remember that. Give them more truth than lies. Always.” I nodded but that wasn’t good enough for him, “Say it back to me.”
“Two truths and a lie,” I whispered with my heart in my throat.
“You got it, Babe,” he winked at me.
I almost smiled at his inside joke, but then Kane and his henchmen were back and the door to the school was opened. Inside the building was dark and cool and after the brightness of day outside, I felt blind as I stumbled around inside.
“Careful of the walls,” Kane murmured.
The door slammed with a bang behind us and three things became obvious; the dim candlelight that illuminated the hallways. The tortured keening of the undead. And the lack of smell.
As my eyes adjusted to the light I took in one of the most horrific scenes of my life. In my life, my life that was filled with killing and rotting flesh and death daily.
The school was set up so that it split into two hallways in a V-shape away from the front doors. There was an office of sorts directly to my left with glassed walls and a swinging door. Immediately my eyes fell on Hendrix and Nelson; I only briefly registered the barest hint of relief.
Then my eyes went back to something so vile and disgusting I actually gagged. Zombies lined the hallways. Lined the hallways. The lockers, that were originally used for students, had their doors removed and replaced with steel bars like a jail cell. And stuffed into each, individual locker, so that their arms were able to reach out into the hallway was a Feeder. They moaned low and high at the same time with their faces pressed up against the bars. The space between was wide enough for their bone-thin arms but not big enough for them to stick their face through.
Their paper-white skin peeled off in places until all that was left was either tendons or bones. They clawed and grasped at the air in front of them as if they could reach the humans that walked in between them, as if only one more inch would get them the meal they seemed to so desperately need.
Speechless and disgusted I just stared. The feeling was something like watching dog fighting; I knew they were animals, not humans, but the cruelty was staggering.
Through the haze of my thoughts I heard Kane order, “Take him in with the others. I’m taking her to my father.”
Panic infused my boiling blood and my head snapped to Vaughan. It was good that they were putting him with his brothers.
But what about me?
Kane put his arm on my bicep and started to pull me down the opposite hallway. I struggled just a little and his grip tightened. Leaning down so that his mouth was next to my ear again, he whispered, “He will be a hell of a lot safer if you come easily.”
“Reagan,” Vaughan said in a low voice. Our gazes collided with emotion; he was promising that everything would be okay and I was begging him to make it that way. And then, shocking the ever-living hell out of me, he shouted, “I love you.”
I think my mouth unhinged almost permanently and I stumbled backwards as Kane pulled me down the hallway. I stuttered over what to say back when he held up two fingers and then just one. Two truths. One lie.
“I love you, too,” I lied back.
And it was a lie, on both our parts. Because while there might exist some kind of friend-love between us, there was so far none of that deeper stuff.
But then my eyes flickered over to Hendrix who was standing in front of his side of the glass, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle was popping in and out. His hands were crossed tensely over his heaving chest and his livid stare was fastened on where Kane’s hand gripped my arm.
I didn’t understand why Vaughan had put us together but I assumed, by taking one glance at Hendrix, it was something to do with protecting his brother. And I would do anything to protect any of those boys so I went along with it, easily. There wasn’t a question in my mind whether I trusted Vaughan to do what was best for this family, including me.
I willed Hendrix’s eyes up to mine and when we finally connected after agonizing seconds my heart slammed into my chest and stopped beating completely. He was tortured behind the glass, utterly pained and distraught. His lips pressed into a thin line and the muscle in his jaw started ticking again.
With a meaningful look that hit me in the center of my being he mouthed, “Be careful.”
And in reply with as much emotion as I could convey, I mouthed back, “You, too.”
Not exactly the most profound thing between people who might potentially, one day in the future…. like each other. But it was the most important thing right now.
I turned back around and followed Kane down the darkened hallway. The sound of Feeders reaching out for me in the dim light was alarming. Their keening drifted around me in and out of my head like razor blades on soft flesh. My hands were still behind my back, but I desperately wanted to press them against my ears to block out the sound. My heart didn’t slow its rapid rhythm and my skin felt itchy and wrong as it stretched out over my body.
“They don’t smell,” I commented in a rasping voice.
Kane glanced down at me and then at his hand that still held my arm. Slowly he removed his grip and I stumbled without his support. His frown deepened but he didn’t attempt to touch me again. I regained my balance and wondered if he heard me.
“We’ve learned that if they don’t eat human flesh, they don’t emit that noxious smell.” His voice was quiet and lilting with that southern accent, but I heard him clearly.
“But why would you keep them like this? It’s cruel!”
“Are you siding with the Feeders?” he asked in amused disbelief.
“No!” But then my chest ached at the idea of prolonging this kind of life. “But it’s unnecessary. Why would you make them live through this? They’re starving and emaciated.”
“They only eat human flesh,” he emphasized. “What would you suggest we feed them?”
“Don’t feed them anything! But don’t leave them like this either. Shoot them. Kill them. Help solve the problem!”
“In one breath you share compassion for them and in another you suggest genocide,” he pointed out sounding surprised that I would have either.
“It’s not that,” I argued. “It’s disgust for a creature that should not exist. It’s revulsion for humans who should know better.”
“You’re revolted by this?” The disbelief resounded in his voice.
“Aren’t you?” I demanded.
But he didn’t reply.
He stopped walking and I turned to find out why. He looked down at me, his gray eyes black in the dim hallway; the only light came from low-lit kerosene lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Light flickered over his face and cast the angular planes of his jaw and cheekbones into shadowy contrast.
“My dad is going to ask you a lot of questions,” he explained and for the first time I noticed a heavy wooden door behind him. “It’s better if you answer…. all of them. And if you answer them truthfully.”
“Is this how you treat everyone that stumbles on your settlement?” I asked with more bitterness than I wanted to show. “You handcuff them and order them around? Are you going to let us go at some point? Or enslave us? Or eat us like you said?”
His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile and my insides burned with hatred. I despised that he found me amusing.
“We don’t actually eat people,” he assured me carefully. “And we don’t have slaves.”
“So then why am I handcuffed?”
“It’s temporary.” But I didn’t believe him. When my eyes narrowed and I pursed my lips he continued, “We’re taking precautions. You could have been bitten. You could bring the virus to us.”
“We didn’t even know this was here,” I lied. This was my lie. And I realized how terrible telling more truth than lies was going to be for me. “You found us, not the other way around.”
“And can you imagine what that is like for us day in and day out? People w
andering through? Potentially carrying a virus or stumbling upon us and hoping to relieve us of our food and guns? We have a permanent settlement here, we have to protect it.”
All of that made sense and it bothered me. “You don’t need to treat us like prisoners. You didn’t need to separate us.”
“Was that your boyfriend you were with?” he asked in a low, irritated voice. I nodded because I didn’t want to explain and his jaw clenched and unclenched before he continued, “His brothers showed up late last night, sneaking around our camp. They had my little brother with them, my rebellious, tenacious, disobedient little brother with them. Then we find you and your… boyfriend this morning. You’re obviously in the same traveling party. You obviously knew they went ahead of you last night.”
Ignoring the bulk of his accusations, I asked, “How did you know they were brothers?”
“It’s fairly obvious by their looks,” he gave me a sarcastic eye roll. “And even if it weren’t, they carry the same gun. I made an observant guess.”
I didn’t respond verbally. What could I say? It was kind of obvious they were brothers, or at least related in some way. Besides, that wasn’t information that I had to be worried about giving up. Two truths. One lie.
Realizing I wasn’t going to add anything to his hypothesis, he said, “I’m not trying to be the bad guy. But I will protect what’s mine.”
I leveled my stare with his and promised, “Me, too.”
He nodded slowly and issued one more warning, “Do not leave my side. Do you understand?” When I didn’t say that I did, he continued, “I will say this once for your benefit and I will not say it again. This camp is low on women. But we have an abundance of men. And we do not share our women. Once you belong to a man…. he keeps you. You might not like me, but what is inside that room is worse. Stay by my side.”
I still didn’t respond. Men had saved me often enough so I was a little less feminist than when I first started this sojourn and after running my Zombified boyfriend over for cheating on me. But I wasn’t submissive enough to believe I would or could become a man’s property. My thoughts were free, my actions were defiant and my life plan did not involve twenty-one children and a husband that kept Zombie pets starved and tortured in his hallway.
Love and Decay (Season 1): Episodes 1-6 Page 27
