by Marie Dry
"How can anything be my father's fault? He died two years ago," she said while a terrible dread settled over her.
This all went back to her father's notebook. He'd tried to tell her something the day he died and the desperation and fear on his face had stayed with her.
Murdoch balled his fists and paced in a curious uneven rhythm in front of her. Natalie kept a wary eye on him. There was something off about the way he moved, as if he was wound up so tight he'd explode at the slightest provocation. Fury gathered on his face, his fists now clenched so tight the skin over his knuckles turned white as if the bones wanted to push through his flesh.
"It's his fault! His fault!" he suddenly screamed. "He developed the formula and then refused to perfect it."
"You experimented with one of his drug formulas?" she asked, horror clawing at her.
If it was the last formula her father worked on, all manner of things could've gone wrong. From what he'd told her, the company was so eager to develop it, they were taking shortcuts, without her father knowing about it. That was why he destroyed his research and returned to his family's survivalist ways. She'd always had the impression her father thought the company would come after him. And he'd been suspicious of Andre from the beginning.
"It was supposed to cure anything. Instead, it nearly killed me."
He paced again, his strides still curiously uneven, as if his mind was fragmented and couldn't even concentrate on the simple function of walking.
"Is that why you had your goons kidnap me? Why you had them destroy my house? You think I have a formula that works?"
"I know your father developed another formula, which is a cure to the one I took." His fingers briefly touched the sores on his face.
"He never worked on another formula after he left the company."
"I know he did, and you will tell me where it is, bitch, or suffer the consequences, like your father did."
There was a roaring sound in her hears. It couldn't be. This monster couldn't have destroyed her father, her life. "What do you mean?"
"He refused to give me the formula and I sent some of my boys to teach him a lesson." He scowled. Kicked at the legs of a table. "Those idiots killed him. Do you know the side effects of that nightmare your father developed?" He stopped pacing to lean over her, spittle leaking from his mouth. "I shit myself if I'm not careful, and I feel things crawling all over my skin." He scratched frantically at his chest.
Natalie recoiled from him farther. "There's no cure. Really, there's no formula because he never finished it." She had no way of knowing if the formulas in her father's notebook had anything to do with what Murdoch took, but she wasn't about to hand it over to him.
He gestured to his face again. "What do you think this is? A figment of my imagination?"
"No, I think it's the evil in your heart, taking shape on your face."
The words left her mouth before she could think better of it. He'd always been vain about his appearance and she'd have pitied him, if not for all the people he'd tortured and killed.
He threw back his head and laughed hysterically, only to stop as abruptly as he'd started. Moving like a snake, ready to strike, he slapped her so hard she fell off the chair. The air left her lungs and she gasped for breath for long moments. Her cheek throbbed and her ears rang. She lay there dazed, too scared to move, not even sure what had happened.
He swaggered up and down in front of her. "Watch your mouth, bitch. In my kingdom, you treat me with respect."
Natalie dragged herself up until she could lean against the chair like a limp flower. If only she had the courage to tell him she'd show respect to whoever killed him and saved the world from a monster. She could've said that to Zacar. He would roar and argue, but he would never think of lifting a hand against her. At least he hadn't yet. How long before he came for her? Was he even coming? Or had he determined her to be weak and not worth the effort?
She lowered her head. Surely he would at least want his little warriors.
"Get back on the chair," Murdoch said in an eerily calm voice that scared her almost as much as his violent outburst had.
He looked crazed, cruelty overlying even the terrible sores on his sunburnt face. Although, compared to Zacar, he wasn't that impressive. Zacar knew how to intimidate, but this creature in front of her was simply mean.
"I know you're waiting for your protectors to come and save you, but this time, you can't hide behind them. Or should I say, beneath them." Once again, she shrunk back from his cacophonous laughter. "The men that attacked your precious mountain are only the tip of the iceberg. I've got hundreds of thousands of men at my fingertips."
He'd said protectors. Did he not know he dealt with aliens? If so, how on earth did he manage to steal that spacecraft? Maybe his men were in such a hurry to kidnap her, they didn't realize it was aliens and not humans who rushed from the cave when they grabbed her.
"Where did you get the hovercraft?" She had to be careful not to give away what she knew, but it was difficult to think with her cheek throbbing, her head aching, and her stomach roiling from morning sickness.
He laughed again, eerie and maniacal. Zacar's weird scary laugh was nothing compared to this.
"It crashed in the woods nearby. We killed the purple alien then took his woman and his ship." He swaggered past her again.
"Where is she?" And where were they? How fast did the craft the raiders brought her in go? The trip didn't feel that long. And purple? It couldn't be Zacar's people because he said only warriors were on their ship.
"What happened to the alien's woman?"
"She was weak," he said with a careless gesture. "She died after about only a fifth of my men had her."
Natalie's stomach turned in horror. If it was one of Zacar's men, he'd have wiped the floor with Murdoch. If it was another unknown alien, his people were going to come to Earth and wipe them all out. They were doomed. Who knew what kind of doomsday weapons they possessed?
"Did she suffer," Natalie asked, sad at the thought of the alien women coming so far only to crash. To have to go through hell in a raider camp.
"You serious?" Murdoch asked."
She clasped her hands around her middle and, leaning over, desperately fought the bile rising in her throat. It had been a stupid question. She breathed deep and sat up again. He'd stopped pacing and her stomach turned even more at the way he stared at her, almost avidly enjoying her suffering.
"What are you going to do with me?" She had a pretty good idea but she wanted to give Zacar time to get here. No matter what this monster in front of her said, she knew no amount of raiders were a match for Zacar and his warriors if he brought all fifty.
"Maybe I'll keep you for a while. Maybe I missed you," he said mockingly.
Natalie glared at him. "We both know you never missed me." She realized what a really narrow escape it had been the day he packed up and left. She should never have shed one tear over this creature. "What happened to you? How can you do these things?" Her face throbbed where he'd slapped her and she could feel her lip swelling.
A maniacal light lit his eyes and drool escaped his mouth. "Don't be naive. I am the most powerful force in the country. Pretty soon, I'll have the same power all over the world."
"How're you going to do that? You can't broadcast around the world. You can't even get off this continent. There aren't any flights to Europe--all those planes crashed a few years ago."
He cracked his knuckles. "How I do it is none of your business. Now, tell me where I can find the antidote to your father's formula."
Natalie flinched at the sound. "If there is a formula, I don't know what--"
He slapped her so hard her neck twisted awkwardly. The chair toppled over and she crashed to the ground with a painful thump.
"Get up, bitch," he snarled. "Answer the question." He was almost dancing around on the balls of his feet.
She curled up into a small, defensive ball. It hurt more than she ever thought a slap could hurt. Mor
e than the ones she'd endured at the raider camp the day she met Zacar. In all her life, no one had lifted a hand to her until the raiders came to her mountain. Her mind didn't want to accept that it was happening now.
"Get up, or I'll give you more where that came from," he taunted.
Slowly, as slow as she dared, she dragged herself up, righting the chair with shaking hands, then sat down. She knew he would only slap her again. She wanted to remain curled up on the ground until Zacar came for her but she didn't have the courage to defy this crazy monster.
"The formula," he said, his voice sounding eerily sane, like the man she used to love.
But she knew now that the man she thought she loved never existed, except in her imagination. "I don't know where my father--"
His fist shot out. The next moment, she was on the ground again, her lip bleeding. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth and gingerly touched the wetness there. Dazed, Natalie shook her head and waited for the ringing in her ears to stop. She wanted to beg him to stop, offer him anything if he'd just stop hurting her, but she knew he'd kill her the moment he had the notebook. Or worse, she'd disappear into one of his camps.
"Get up. Get up. Get up, bitch!" His voice grew high and hysterical with each word, and he still bounced around the tent.
Please. Please let Zacar be on his way. She couldn't take much more of this. Slowly, painfully, she dragged herself into the chair again. What if Zacar didn't come for her? Would a warrior with honor let his breeder go and just replace her with another? With a woman that didn't have asthma?
Murdoch leaned over and grabbed her hair in his fist. He twisted until she thought he'd tear out her hair and her neck would snap. "Where. Is. My. Formula?"
It shamed her that she wanted to tell him the exact location of the notebook to avoid getting hit again. Would Zacar despise her for being such a coward? For showing fear in the face of Murdoch's brutality? She wanted to tell Murdoch anything he wanted to know, as long as he stopped hurting her. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and forget the world around her.
What else did Murdoch want her father's formula for? She could just imagine him mass producing the drug and forcing it on his innocent victims until they too were dying of some horrid condition.
"My father burned all of his research shortly before his death. He said it was too terrible to keep."
"Where's the antidote? The formula that cures all the side effects of the original drug?"
"He never developed anything like that," she said, but she wasn't one hundred percent sure, as her father rarely talked about his work. After they came to live permanently on the mountain, all he talked about was surviving the end of the world.
"I don't believe you," Murdoch snapped, but the look of shock and dismay on his face said otherwise.
Her father had been working on a cure for her and her mother's asthma when he developed drug ANQ41 by accident. When he realized that there was unhealthy interest by certain persons, he'd disappeared from the medical world and followed in the footsteps of his survivalist father and grandfather. Maybe that was why he blew up the mountain pass, to ensure no one could come looking for him. Except it hadn't kept her safe from Murdoch.
"I have no way of proving what I say is true, but my father told me it never--" It was difficult forming words with her swollen mouth.
"Told you what? So you don't know for sure what he did." The feverish fanaticism in his eyes intensified until it glowed brighter than a bonfire.
"No, but I know he destroyed all his research. And he never developed any antidote that I know of." She tried to look earnest. Had he made up the story of the antidote in his crazy head?
"Where did you get the money to hire protection?"
Protection? For a moment, she couldn't follow him. Then she realized he thought she had sold the formula and hired mercenaries to protect her. She opened her mouth to deny it but stopped herself. He didn't know about Zacar. Let him think some mercenaries protected her mountain. Please let Zacar care enough for his unborn children to come for her.
"What happened to you? When you left you were on your way to a bright future in Washington."
He threw back his head and laughed maniacally again. "You stupid bitch. You still don't know?"
"Know what?"
"There is no government. The army consists of a few thousand ill-trained idiots that don't even have weapons. Marshall law is their last ditch effort to pull things back together, except they don't even have the resources to get the word out to everyone."
"No. That can't be." Could Zacar have been right all along?
"Your safe little world is collapsing around you and you're too stupid to realize it."
"No." She didn't want to believe him.
"Oh, it's true, my dear fiancé. Or should I say, ex-fiancé. Law and order is a joke. All that's left is a bunch of sheep, too stupid to defend themselves. Your only hope for surviving this is to be very, very nice to me."
"And you're determined to prey on them." She didn't try to hide her disgust. Zacar might not love her, but he had honor.
Murdoch laughed, as if she'd said something extremely witty, then slapped her hard across the cheek. Reaching down, he pulled her up by her jacket then raised his fist and hit her full in the face.
She hadn't even recovered from the first punch before the next one came. Then another. And another. He went into a rage, screaming, hitting, and kicking her. She curled into a protective ball, shielding the babies growing in her belly from the assault.
As suddenly as the attack started, it stopped. She heard his boots thump against the ground, crunching something, as he stepped away from her. Crying hysterically, she stayed curled up, cowering, waiting for the next wave of attacks. It hurt, but slowly she realized that the jacket Zacar had given her had protected her to a great extent. Without it, her ribs would have surely been broken, as opposed to just aching.
"Shuddup, and get on the chair."
Her body was too sore, she couldn't move. Something was wrong with one of her eyes. It felt like it was going to burst from its socket. Afraid he'd start assaulting her again, she slowly crawled back onto the chair, though it was impossible to sit up straight.
"Not so proud now, huh? I'll ask you one more time. The formula."
Maybe she should tell him about the notebook. Zacar could defend the cave and Murdoch's men would never be able to breach it. It might give her a reprieve.
"It's in the cave somewhere. My father said he hid it there but I've never found it." She was ashamed of lying and pointing his viciousness at Zacar and the others. But she knew that if more raiders were sent to the cave, the aliens could defend themselves.
"So that's why the mercenaries are defending the cave," Murdoch said.
Her trembling and choppy breath didn't sound so good. Zacar had said he implanted her with a tracking device and she prayed it was true. If she got out of this alive, she'd never complain again about being tracked. Up to now she'd hated it, feeling like a tagged animal. But right this moment, she was praying with every fiber of her being that he'd been telling the truth. That he was on his way save her.
Sitting there, aching and bleeding and unable to see much through her swollen eyelids, she decided that if Zacar came to rescue her, she would be a good little breeder. No longer would she bemoan her fate. No more yearning for him to declare his love. Faced with this monster, she would settle for protection for herself and her unborn babies. That was, if her children survived this. She resisted the urge to run a protective hand over her belly, afraid the gesture would give her away. Who knew what this monster would do if he learned she was pregnant?
"Mercenaries can be bought, you stupid bitch." He seemed to have calmed down a bit, but still she watched him warily. He was unpredictable and she didn't know when he would start hitting her again. "You think they wouldn't rather be part of my outfit than protect some frigid bitch in that cave?"
"You don't know what you're getting into," she warned
. "This is one war you're going to lose." Maybe she was braver than she thought, because only a very brave person would say something like that to this crazy man.
His thick lips curled in scorn. "You're the one that'll regret ever being born. I found a few interesting gadgets in that spaceship. My men are working on weapons that will make me king of this dump." He laughed, high and hysterical, the sound strange coming from such a large man.
Pity coursed through her, even though, in barely a half an hour, he'd managed to beat the spirit right out of her. She recognized his illness now. It was drug-resistant pox, and it had already affected his brain. Her father had assured her that, by an accident of nature, she was immune to most of the new drug-resistant illnesses and she prayed it was true.
At least, Murdoch didn't realize that he was dealing with two alien ships. Let him think Zacar was a mercenary. He'd find out his mistake soon enough.
"Tell me how many mercenaries you hired."
"I've only ever seen four of them. The, uh, commander keeps the rest busy doing things all over the mountain." It was true enough, she'd never seen the rest of Zacar's warriors.
"You expect me to believe he took on my camps with only four men?"
He stared at her then laughed, as though he didn't want to believe her.
"It's true. I only ever saw four of them but I know there's more w--soldiers," she slurred, her lips so swollen she could barely form the words. .
He screamed and fell on her, slapping her off the chair again then pummeling her with his fists. She'd somehow expected it to be easier to bear this time, but it was worse. She covered her stomach with her arms and screamed, crying and begging for him to stop. She knew if she lived through this, she'd never be able to look Zacar in the face again. He despised weakness and her pleading and begging was weakness of the worst sort.
Most of all, she feared for her babies. She hunched her body and covered her stomach with her arms, even when he kicked her in the face.
When he finally stopped, she thought he would tell her to get up on the chair again. But instead, through her muffled sobbing, she heard him walk away. As her sobs slowly petered out, her body too sore and exhausted to even continue crying, she became aware of gunshots firing, men yelling, and the shrill screams of women. She even heard dogs barking outside the tent. Every now and then, amidst the chaos, she heard a child scream.
