by Nathan Ward
“You’re a good man,” she promised him.
As she walked away to join Enrique outdoors, Murdock was still laid comfortably on the ground, his eyes focused on the roof of the barn, fresh water trickling down the sides of his lips – he had never been acknowledged as such a man before and it made him feel appreciated for the first time since he had been a small child. Someone had finally approved of him, which sent all the mind numbing negativity of his past flurrying back to hide in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.
Once again the sound of silence fell - silence and harmony.
By midday the group was ready to set off, leaving the faultless barn behind and taking their first steps in to the unknown, following the forest path through the deep and gloomy woods. The foliage seemed ever so familiar it was like being home again for Sasha, who had spent months traipsing in the dirt, sheltering from the world’s chaos.
Murdock had never stepped foot inside this particular kind of surrounding, he had always been based in Urban combat, so the transition took a little longer to adjust to compared to Enrique and Sasha. Enrique also knew the drill when wandering through this land; he took it upon himself to take a lead, shifting from tree to tree observing the entire perimeter to make sure they were alone in the woods.
It was then Sasha noticed something up ahead, it had caught her eye for a few meters now and she couldn’t resist any longer, so she ran past Enrique and reached up high until she felt the juicy sphere in her grasp, she yanked it from the branch and held it, protecting the precious find like a mother shielding her baby from the cruel world surrounding it.
“It’s a fucking apple, mate!” she yelled excitedly.
Murdock caught up, followed by Enrique who had begun to shake his head in disapproval.
“You could of gotten yourself killed.”
“Lighten up, Enrique. This place is deserted!” she replied, hoping her wild guess was correct. Enrique just sighed, then turned his attention to the apple tree that sat before them, covered in glistening juicy apples. Each of them reached up and pulled down a few more, not wasting any time – needing to take a bite of out them and indulge in the sweet, tender juices.
“This is the first thing I’ve eaten in about five days,” said Murdock as he chomped down on his rosy red apple.
“Seven days for me, sir!” Enrique replied, followed by Sasha who added, “Eight for me, I got a bit bladdered on the wine, the sight of food made me vomit and all that was being eaten was bloody cod, the stench was bad enough!”
“You had wine?” Murdock exclaimed.
“Maybe…” she replied.
Suddenly the distant sound of an alarm system flooded the forest, and it was one that seemed ever so familiar to Murdock.
“The UNA!” Murdock shouted, before dropping his apple and taking off through the woodland path, followed by Enrique and Sasha.
As Murdock emerged from behind the trees he crept on to the ground and began to crawl his way up a small hill that he was facing. Enrique and Sasha followed his lead, slowly approaching behind him.
The alarm sound had begun to increase in volume as the group got closer and closer until they were in direct contact, Murdock pulled his body up with one last heave keeping his head low to the ground, he peered over the ridge of the hill followed by Sasha then Enrique, whose eyes both widened simultaneously as they caught sight of what sat ahead of them:
It was a large complex controlled by what seemed to be the UNA, this complex looked distinctively like the ruins of an old fort, surrounded by a moat and drawbridge leading inside the facility.
Sasha drew her rifle taking a glance down the scope.
“There are UNA soldier carriers now exiting the building, heading over the drawbridge.”
Murdock armed himself with a tiny pair of binoculars from a back belt pocket.
Looking through the lens he watched on as two UNA soldiers emerged from the inner building and began to reel in the drawbridge.
“I wonder why it’s not ash and dust?” he said.
“I can’t answer that one, perhaps there always was another motive behind their plan, maybe... something different happened here and we were just the unlucky ones to get given a nuclear testing program? I don’t know!” Sasha replied, her gaze still fixed on her rifle lens.
“What’s done is done, we know what they have which leads me on to the next question,” Murdock said.
“Go on,” said Enrique as he listened intently.
“Can we take them?” Murdock asked, “Should... we take their supplies?”
“We come all this way and now you’re questioning your motive?” Sasha said as anger flashed in her eyes.
“Don’t forget I was once one of them,” Murdock reminded her, “And you managed to convince me to see the light, we just have to do the same for them. Then we get what we need and no one gets hurt.”
Murdock looked over at Sasha, who still had her eye firmly placed against the lens of her rifle. He understood her anger - to think he was just about to debate walking up to their front door and murdering them all. Now he had remembered he used to be one of them, he realised at once that they may have been ordered to do god awful things - but it didn’t make them evil, it didn’t mean they deserved any less than the respect that all human life still deserved. This had to be fair. Everyone understood that the people controlling the land were to be held accountable for all the crime affiliated with the virus outbreak...
“There’s a high chance one of them is inside there,” he said.
“Then we kill it,” replied Sasha as she removed her face from the scope and turned her gaze to Murdock. Then the colour swiftly dispersed from her face, leaving her pale, as shock and disbelief of what she was witnessing now hit her:
Murdock suddenly felt the sharp, cold tip of a barrel being forced slowly against the back of his neck. His neck remained stiff and his head held high, he looked down at the ground and watched as the shadow of a human silhouette was cast in front of him.
“Not if we kill you first,” said a voice from behind Murdock.
The barrel of the gun remained firmly in place, pressing against his neck. It felt as if time had slowed and this moment was a freeze-frame locked in a standoff for the whole of eternity, but Murdock knew that one slight move would mean the difference between success and failure.
“We can work this out!”he responded quickly.
Then he closed his eyes tightly, expecting the worst but knowing the gun man couldn’t see his expression. But instead of a spoken response, the man with the gun slowly broke out into a sinister chuckle which quickly spiraled into a hideous burst of laughter, a constant continuous outburst that bordered on insanity.
And then one single thought dominated the minds of Murdock, Sasha and Enrique:
“This man is a lunatic, this man is going to kill us...”
Chapter 10: The Dungeon
Crunch went the drawbridge as it returned to its upright resting place, concealing the residents of the grand UNA fortress. The two soldiers reached for the long rustic levers and yanked them down, locking the heavy ropes in place.
Once both were satisfied with the fastening of the entrance they turned away and returned to the courtyard, a circular plot of land positioned at the center of the fortress, surrounded by the tall solid walls that housed the front line soldiers.
The guards were positioned on top of those walls, they would spend most of their days overlooking the land, watching and waiting for anything that may be of help to them - or most commonly - a threat, which was easily dealt with.
The guardsmen had been hand picked and only the best sharpshooters would man the defense, each unit armed with UNA 101 rifle elites – The utmost reliable sniper rifle to be manufactured in the country, but importantly, it was also the most powerful. With such a deadly aim none would want to be on the other end of that weaponry. They stood at the helm of the fortress, day and night - in life and in death. The structure had stood for hundreds of
years so with its deep and longing history came many tales – but none as terrifying as the one to be told...
On the opposite side of the courtyard stood giant wooden gates and beyond those gates was a dark, torch lit corridor. The flames would cast a path of light until reaching a dark blood stained wall, at the foot of this wall was a dark abyss, a square of blackness that if looked into long enough, it almost seemed as if a black mass were rising from the pit of hell – it was a dungeon that housed the most dangerous of prisoners, the most vile and disturbing beings in existence. The use for it ran out in the early nineteenth century when laws were raised objecting to their use, but now was the time to put such a place back into use - because no matter what had changed, the good men, as always, were not without the bad.
The thud of thick rubber soles sounded as they stomped down the stairwell slabs, one after another, with each stepping movement there followed the sound of metal clanging together, but only a subtle rattle. Perhaps just a boot chain or even a set of keys jolting and clattering, as a dark mysterious figure descended in to the pit.
There was a faint orange glow around the top of the stairwell and as the figure reached the bottom he had become almost impossible to identify, the room fell in to an unsettling silence – only the sound of a delicate draft could be heard swooshing in and out of the stairwell mouth.
From within the darkness came the sound of a matchbox, as it was distinctively removed from a jacket pocket. The match sticks were given a thorough shake before finally, the soggy sounding cardboard draw was pushed open and a match removed. The figure's face was finally illuminated by the sudden swipe and igniting flame, revealing a shaven round head and a red cloth bandanna pulled up and over the mysterious figures nose, hiding his face.
“I know who you are, you don’t need to hide away!” came a shaky voice from behind the shadows.
“I’m not hiding,” replied the mysterious figure with a deep and powerful voice, as he still kept hold of the burning match stick, “I’m avoiding the stench of you disgusting fucks!” he added, as he turned and approached the nearby wall.
From where he stood, he could just make out the shape of a mounted torch leaning out from the stone wall. The man raised the match stick and threw it into the cage that covered it, the torch suddenly ignited in to a roaring rich flame that abruptly illuminated the pit.
The mysterious figure was no longer hidden by the darkness and the light had engulfed him, stripping back the mystery, revealing his white UNA leathers and thick black boots. His suit carried many scars of battle, equally so did his mixed race flesh, multiple deformities had now become prominently visible upon the mans face – some scarring more recent than others.
As he turned his head the light momentarily exposed a faint milky tint of his right eye, a blindness conceived by the animal bitch chained to the foot of where he stood. He lowered his gaze and stared in to the unnerved eyes of a woman, who was detained by thick steel chains that were locked on to her wrist and ankles.
The mans presence was quite overwhelming to the other three quivering prisoners who had also been chained down against the cold brick wall, but the woman who had been positioned closest to the powerful embodiment that stood over her seemed not even the slightest bit unhinged, in fact they traded a merciless glare as a statement of their strength – the bitch wasn’t scared...
The dominant figure began to walk down the chamber, passing by the crippled bodies that had been imprisoned against the wall, each of whom were wearing tatty rags for clothing and the smell that was originating from them was sickening, it was a mix of feces and urine rolled up in to one thick cloud polluting the dungeon.
The man continued until he reached the quivering soul at the end of the pack, then he took one final step, landing his boot in a fresh puddle of golden urine that had had formed from the trickling river escaping from the prisoners pants.
The woman on the other end of the room become more visible as the torch flames became more and more energetic, catching the draft that was flowing down the stairwell:
Her hair was no longer than an inch in length, slicked back and always ready for whatever was thrown at it, never standing between her and those she opposed. She always saw it as a weakness when it was long, impairing her vision – so she had chopped it away. Her face, like the mans, was also covered by scars - but these marks she had grown to live with and she had now openly welcomed them to live on her face, reminding her of every struggle and every fight in the battle to simply survive, those scars reminded her of the strength she had to pull through, and she wore them with pride. It was plain to see she was a strong woman to still exist in this hellish world - but now all of her freedom seemed to have been ripped from her grasp.
“Why have you returned, Captain?” asked the woman, making sure she was heard by the figure stood at the end of the room imposing over the other three prisoners,
“Come to have your other eye gauged out?” she added, hiding a subtle smirk of confidence.
The man reemerged in to the light, edging closer to the chained up woman.
“You know why I’m here,” he replied.
Defiance shone in her eyes.
“What makes you think today is going to be any different? I will not offer any help to you!” the women yelled, ending her sentence with a discharge of saliva that launched itself on to the boot of the imposing figure.
“See… that’s where you’re very wrong because you really will want to help, in exactly five minutes time you will BEG to be able to help me, I can promise you that,” the figure replied, retaining an imposing stance.
Now fury blazed in her eyes.
“I've been here for four days, four freakin' days with no food or water! And you want me to help you? Nothing you say can convince me, nothing you do will change a thing. You and your UNA whore of a wife can go fuck yourselves!” she exclaimed fearlessly as she knelt at the foot of the man she had just insulted. He paused for a moment and took a long, deep breath and even with the bandanna covering his nostrils he could smell that stench of urine and feces seeping through the cotton.
“Ok, Joy. We shall see about that,” he responded, remaining extremely calm – unnaturally calm...
The man who Joy had identified as the Captain began to reach down in to the pockets that sat on either side of his thighs. Both hands clenched and withdrew two long metal poles.
“You see, you all know why you’re here. Witnessed sex offenses, child abuse, assault, attempted murder...” He began to slowly screw the two halves together, combining them to form an extended pole, “And I don’t appreciate that happening within MY community, not after everything I put myself through to get you here!”
The Captain shifted the pole into the warm glow of light, revealing the piercing sharp tip that had begun to glisten as he took a ragged cloth from his suit pocket and rubbed it against the cold stainless steel.
“Joy Thorn, leader of the … what was it again?” he asked
And Joy looked up at him slowly, meeting his gaze and struggling to maintain it, being distracted by the motion of his hand rubbing up and down against the gleaming steel javelin.
“The Hopefuls?” he continued, “You and your band of rebels - you did well. I’ll give you that, Joy. You did a good job. But you see, there is only so much I can accept in order to make this new way of life work.”
Then he raised the javelin to his side and stood it on its end.
“Now you fuckwits listen here, Joy has chosen not to help. She doesn’t want to fix what she damaged and she’s the only medic we’ve all seen in a long fucking time, so in a moment when we get started, you’re all going to beg for Joy to rethink what she’s saying, you’re going to beg for her to help you!”
The man turned back to Joy with a blank expression.
“All I ever asked was for you to correct your wrongs, to fix the wound you mercilessly inflicted upon my wife like any humble, decent human being would.
But you just love to com
plicate things don’t you!” stated the Captain as his grip tightened.
“She attacked me!” Joy roared, unable to contain her rage any longer.
“No Joy - you provoked her, you laughed in her face and you impaled her. Taking the life of our unborn child in the process.”
His words had finally managed to do something that all the starving and the lack of water and the physical threats had failed to do – it had wounded her. Joy began to tremble, trying to hold back tears as she thought of what he claimed she had done...A baby? That was too much to bear…
“I didn’t... know,” she began, “I didn’t mean for it to happen I just reacted, I always act on instinct and you were both opposing UNA, you’re now changed people!”
“We are,” he confirmed, taking a step back towards the shadowed corner of the room.
“Joy… will you aid us?” he asked again as he stood with his back turned.
She looked down at herself, eyes tracing a path down her body to where pain throbbed from her ankles bruised black and blue from the chains, the rags covering her body were drenched by the rain that had leaked down in to the dungeon the previous night. Cold and aching and restless, Joy raised her head and confirmed what the Captain was waiting to hear, as her own suffering had reached near breaking point.
“I will.”
The captain turned with a psychotic grin fixed to his face as victory shone in his eyes.
“Then attend your patient!” he commanded with his dark stare glued to Joy, who returned a look of confusion.
“Attend… your…. PATIENT!” Roared the Captain as he launched the javelin from his hand and into the skull of the prisoner beside Joy, it hit with an unsettling crunch as the pole drove its way through the victims head and into the brick wall, impaling him.
Joy stared, wide eyed in shock at the sight before her, and then she drew in a breath and let out a scream that echoed about the dungeon as she ran her hands down her crimson soaked face, blinking blood from her eyes as she watched on as the victims face fell apart, chunk by chunk.
