Love and Decay, Volume Seven (Episodes 5-8, Season Three)

by Higginson, Rachel

  Raphael scared the ever-loving-hell out of me. I could relate.

  Except he didn’t point a gun at me. At least not right away. He opened the cell door and motioned me out.

  “No, thanks,” I told him. “I’ll stay here with the rapers.”

  “Out,” he commanded.

  “Let’s go,” Diego echoed. “Now.”

  Then the guns turned on me. Damn it.

  I looked up at the thousands of stars overhead. They sparkled like diamonds and stretched out as far as I could see. They weren’t going to help me.

  They were cold, distant and removed from my pain and suffering.

  I let out a resigned sigh and forced my feet to move.

  “You’re filthy,” Diego grumbled when I walked by him. “You should never have left. At least I would have let you stay inside. I would have given you water. I wouldn’t have treated you like an animal.”

  “Right before you handed me over to Matthias.” I clenched my fists and tried not to scream.

  “You’re right,” he chuckled darkly, “Raphael is a much better alternative.”

  “I hate that you speak English.”

  “In the house,” he snapped. “We have a deal to work out.”

  I followed Raphael and Diego toward the house while Raphael’s men pointed their guns at me. I could feel eyes on me as I trudged forward. The entire camp of slaves and prisoners had turned their attention on me, but it was the Parkers’ fierce gazes I felt the strongest.

  I walked by Harrison and King, who had been lucky enough to share a cell. King’s jaw was set firmly, but Harrison offered the smallest smile. I recognized his intention to encourage me, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was marching toward my death.

  Although, if I were honest with myself, the last three years of my life felt like a slow procession toward my end. I couldn’t survive this world.

  Nobody could.

  I passed by Vaughan too. His steely gaze bore into me. I could feel his anger vibrate through the air. “Reagan,” he mumbled in a low, threatening voice.

  I looked over at him and nodded with a tilt of my chin, trying to reassure him that I would be okay. He didn’t need to worry about me. He just needed to figure out how to save what was left of his family.

  He stared at me with haunted eyes. He had lost too much today. This was enough. This was too much for all of us. His shoulders were hunched as if the weight of the day and this world were pressing down on him in a very tangible way. My chest clenched at his filthy, rumpled body with those hardened blue eyes that would never soften again.

  I knew that.

  Vaughan had changed today. I could see the loss of humanity and compassion in his expression, see the way his body had turned to stone without forgiveness. I could see that he would never recover from today. And I couldn’t blame him.

  I looked for Hendrix but I couldn’t find him in the darkness. Panic flared inside of me. I stood up on my tiptoes and searched the cluster of cages, desperate to see one last glimpse of him. My feet moved slower and one of the guards jabbed his gun into my side to keep me moving.

  Out of my peripheral I saw Diego shoot me an impatient look, but I had to find Hendrix. I had to see him.

  Just one last time.

  Something dawned inside of me in that moment. Or maybe it awakened from its temporary slumber. It awoke with a vengeful, frantic need. It started to punch and claw at my chest. It lashed its body and bucked uncontrollably.

  It was primal.

  It was uninhabited.

  It was emotion so desperate and consuming I struggled to breathe through it.

  I recognized it immediately and the jolt of it made my feet stumble and my limbs tingle as if they’d gone numb.

  We reached the house and Raphael stepped through the opened door. Light spilled onto the hard ground and bathed the first few rows of cage in a soft glow. The men herded me up the steps, barking orders in Spanish.

  I moved as slowly as I could. I didn’t want to go in the house. I didn’t want to face this next obstacle. If they were going to kill me, I wished they’d just get it over with. If they were going to separate me from my friends, I wished they’d just kill me.

  I took a steadying breath, convinced myself not to start crying and turned around one last time to see the crowd of rapt slaves watch me walk to the gallows.

  There he was.

  Hendrix.

  The only man I’d ever truly loved.

  He stood to my left, his arms propped through the bars of the cage. He looked relaxed, he looked unnaturally at ease. I sucked in a sharp breath and forced myself to meet those intense blue eyes that had pulled at things inside of me since the first day I met him.

  His body had that cool, calm demeanor he always seemed able to pull off despite our circumstances, but his expression depicted the opposite. He held a look of pure, unfiltered rage. And when our gazes clashed, I felt the connection like a jolt to my heart.

  It zinged through my body with high voltage electricity. It spun in my head like a dizzying cyclone. My skin erupted with goose bumps and a thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach.

  Hendrix.

  Why had it taken me so long to remember this?

  And now it was too late.

  I licked my dry lips and willed this moment to last forever.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. I couldn’t force my feet to move. Hendrix was suddenly my entire world, my complete existence, the beginning and the end of me, and I couldn’t make myself leave him.

  “Reagan,” Diego snapped. “Ven conmigo.”

  Raphael cursed something in Spanish that had to be rude. Diego turned back to him and retorted something equally nasty sounding. The men with guns helped me into the house.

  By pushing me with rough, cruel hands.

  I stumbled forward, my feet tripping on a rug. I fell, catching myself just in time. My knees cracked on the red floor and my hands slapped the cool ground painfully. The door slammed behind me with a finality that silenced the room.

  I lifted my head and tossed my ratty hair out of my face. “Ouch.”

  “Get up,” Raphael barked in a thicker accent than Diego.

  Raphael hadn’t spoken much English in the short time I had known him. I had wondered if he knew it. Guess that answered that.

  Diego’s men flanked him, while Raphael’s men kept their guns pointed at me. I crawled to my feet and brushed off my hands with as much dignity as I could muster.

  Raphael’s house was tastefully decorated. Colorfully designed afghans were thrown over the backs of comfortable looking couches. The house smelled clean and floral. I could see the kitchen from where I stood and my stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting the tense silence.

  Neither Diego nor Raphael held a gun, but they glared at each other with enough hatred that I expected one of them to drop dead from bad vibes.

  Once I was on my feet, Diego started speaking in Spanish. I didn’t know what he said and I could only pick out a few words and try to interpret the tone. Raphael listened intently until something that Diego said resonated with him.

  Raphael inclined his head and one of his men dropped his gun and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a pitcher of water. Whatever moisture was left in my mouth disappeared and my throat ached for the clean water.

  I tried not to look at it or reveal how very thirsty I was, but I couldn’t stop glancing at it. I nearly whimpered.

  I expected them to try to bargain something for it or demand I do something in order to get it, but Diego simply nodded at me and kept speaking with Raphael. The spindly looking henchmen held out the ceramic jug without a word.

  I took it with hands shaking and stomach clenched. He moved back into position and re-raised his gun.

  The water was mine.

  I nearly dropped it, the jug was so heavy and I was so weak. I lifted it to my lips and tried, as hard as I could, to drink slowly.

  But once the water touc
hed my gritty mouth and made its way down my burning throat, I couldn’t help but guzzle it. I lapped at it desperately. It sloshed over my mouth and chin, down my neck and all over shirt. I whined as I drank it. It had been so long. I was so thirsty.

  “Slow down,” Diego warned me, breaking out of his conversation with Raphael. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  I reluctantly pulled the jug away from my mouth, knowing he was right. I savagely wiped my chin on the back of my hand, feeling primitive and crazed. The water had revived something inside me. I felt like a wilted flower that had been nurtured to life again.

  My mind sharpened and my muscles sparked with energy. I was still exhausted and beaten, but I wasn’t useless.

  I cleared my throat and met Diego’s assessing gaze. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

  “I saw your amigos yesterday,” he explained.

  “At the auction?”

  “Si. I saw that Raphael has you, but I found you, so you are mine. I am negotiating your return.”

  “I’m not going with you,” I told him.

  “You are.”

  “I’m not,” I growled. “I won’t go. You’ll have to kill me first.”

  He tipped his head back, revealing a smooth neck. For all of Diego’s faults, he was obnoxiously well groomed for the Zombie Apocalypse. He laughed at my defiance. “I’m not going to kill you. And I don’t plan on giving you to Matthias.”

  I didn’t believe him, but I also couldn’t figure out why he would lie. “What do you want, Diego?”

  His eyes narrowed and he glanced surreptitiously at Raphael before asking, “The girl that you helped escape, from my village… Is she still alive?”

  My heart thumped aggressively in my chest. How to answer that? I decided to deflect. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Your pregnant friend told me that she died.”

  I took another slow chug of water. Haley told him that for a reason, but why? Ugh. Sometimes it felt like Haley and I had a telepathic connection. It would be easier for everybody if we actually had one.

  “Haley would know better than me,” I shrugged.

  “Reagan,” he emphasized irritably, “I am losing the patience. Tell me what happened to her. Now.”

  “What happened to who?” Raphael barked, his words connecting like cursive. “Who are you talking about?”

  Diego whipped around to face him and launched into a verbal attack. I heard Adela’s name tossed around from both men, both of them gesturing wildly. Raphael’s face turned eggplant purple and he took a step toward Diego. The men around me bristled with the tension and snapped into focus.

  Raphael’s young wife appeared in the doorway wearing a white nightgown. Raphael barked something at her and she retreated, wide-eyed, back into the house.

  Diego growled something that made Raphael’s eyes bug out of his head. I clutched my water, positive I was about to be caught in the middle of a gunfight.

  I made a squeak of surprise when Diego flicked his wrist and there was a knife at Raphael’s throat. Diego took a step into him, the sharp blade nicking Raphael’s Adam’s apple. Diego snarled something threatening and Raphael’s men backed off.

  Raphael stood there, his chin raised and a stubborn set to his eyes. He inclined his chin just barely and one of his men stalked off further into the house.

  My heart hammered in my chest. I wanted to run out the door and never look back. Fight or flight had kicked in and this time I was pro-flight. And fast.

  The henchman reappeared with Adela. She was bound and gagged. Tears streaked her wet face and blood drenched her clothes. Oh, my god. What happened to her?

  As soon as she appeared, Diego started freaking out at Raphael. The knife pressed into Raphael’s neck as Diego gestured animatedly with his free hand.

  Adela looked between the two men before turning her terrified gaze to me. I felt her fear from here. She looked awful. One eye was swollen and a huge bruise bloomed across one side of her jaw. She shook her head at me. I heard her muffled voice fight against the gag, but I couldn’t tell what she wanted.

  “Go with my men, Reagan,” Diego commanded in English. “Wait for me in the car.”

  I wanted to tell him no. I also wanted to listen to him, since I could feel how ugly this was about to turn. I didn’t want anything to do with Diego or Raphael.

  “Now!” Diego shouted.

  Someone pulled on my arm. Their fingers twisted my bicep in a painful grip and jerked me backward. I let out a yelp and struggled to get away from him. The jar flew from my hands, crashing and breaking against the red tile. I knew that if I got in that car with Diego, I would never get away from him again.

  I knew it.

  I could feel the crazed control he wanted and instinctively I knew he had a plan to pit me against Matthias. I could not get in that car. No matter what.

  The man, who had my arm, pulled me backwards and shoved me through the door. I stumbled down the steps, still fighting.

  “Get off me!” I screamed.

  The men chuckled at my fight. Their laughter echoed over the cages and bounced off the house. They weren’t going to help me. And they weren’t going to be easy on me.

  Whatever Diego had planned was not an escort service out of Mexico.

  They kept hold of me and half-carried, half-dragged me toward the sedan Diego showed up in. The car was unassuming at first, but this close, I could see that it had been outfitted with bars over the back windows. There was also a cage between the front seat and the back. The entire body seemed to be reinforced with armor. This wasn’t a simple ride back to his village.

  I would once again be a prisoner.

  Or maybe not.

  I struggled for thirty seconds to figure out an escape plan before the first explosion went off. When the second explosion followed closely on its heels, I stopped worrying about trying to escape. Survival was more important.

  Because once the explosions started, they didn’t stop.

  Chapter Two

  Another explosion tore through the night, lighting up the darkness with flashes of light and fire. It pushed me to the ground with its brutal heat and pressure. My face scraped against the harsh gravel and my palms burned as they tried to catch my weight and failed. Debris smacked my back in tiny little pings that seared through my threadbare clothes.

  I only lay on the ground for a second or two before rough hands hauled me to my feet, their tight grip biting into my tender flesh. The world tipped as I tried to find my equilibrium and clear the sharp ringing sound resonating unforgivably in my head.

  Someone pushed me forward and my feet tangled together as I tried to keep from falling again. My head cleared in a rush of sound and immediately the ringing was replaced with shouting, crying and the rapid pop of gunfire.

  I realized three things at once. Raphael’s compound was under attack. I was caught in yet another battle for territory. And my shoe was untied.

  Probably I could ignore the untied shoe for right now.

  The door to the house burst open and Diego appeared, flanked by Raphael’s man. He had Adela over his shoulder, her butt sticking up in the air and her bound fists beating his back. She was no longer gagged. She struggled like a crazy person, completely unconcerned with the raining explosions.

  Diego shouted orders at his men and pointed his knife at the car. Continued dragging me to the armored sedan. My own panic set in with heart-stopping urgency. My chest ached as I desperately grappled for coherence. I couldn’t let them put me inside that armored car.

  It would be my death sentence.

  I had to fight.

  Something like a missile sailed just over our heads, whistling through the night air. It landed behind me, in front of the house. The bottle crashed against a window and the eruption of fire and heat came next.

  I screamed out as once again I was propelled forward. My knees hit the ground with a cracking impact and my shoulder skidded along the rough dirt. My hands were pinned at
my sides, underneath the two men that had been charged with me. One of them hit his head on the corner of the sedan, right at the temple. His dead weight did not budge once we landed on the ground.

  My arm bent awkwardly underneath him and with a heaving effort I pushed up on my opposite shoulder and leveraged it out. The other side of me wasn’t as lucky. Henchman numero dos did not get knocked out. Instead, the explosion seemed to really piss him off.

  He hopped to his feet while I shook away the high-pitched scream that invaded my head with every new detonation. The blasts weren’t huge and they didn’t completely obliterate anything they touched, but they happened so close to me that I couldn’t help but be affected by them.

  My body was already sore and bruised from the thugs beating me earlier. Now this.

  I needed a vacation.

  Or a sick day.

  Possibly a mental health day. Or three hundred and sixty-five of them.

  Something rushed by me and dove into the house. The world had started to grow fuzzy around the edges. My breathing wheezed in and out of my chest and I wondered if I was having a panic attack. I couldn’t seem to suck in enough breath. My head swam and my vision blurred.

  I needed a tangible escape plan. I needed some glimmer of freedom. I could feel death creep along the ground around me. The ice-cold tendrils of an ill fate licked at my feet, lashed at my legs, whipped at my bruised back. If it wasn’t an explosion, it would be Diego.

  The hopelessness of my situation became a physical weight that threatened to crush me. I blinked up at my latest captor and realized that I was doomed.

  Doomed.

  I’d never used that word so literally before.

  Diego hovered over me. His face doubled before settling back into one version of his twisted mask of fury. “Get in the car, Reagan. It is the time to leave.”

  I narrowed my eyes and stared up at him from the ground. “You’re going to have to kill me first.”

  A deep sigh rumbled out of his chest and his eyes shot heavenward, “Dios mios,” he cursed. “Why are the women in my life so difficult?” With Adela still over his shoulder, screeching at him while her fists pummeled his back, he swooped down and yanked me up by my wrist. I yelped at the surprising strength of his grip and just barely managed to land on my feet. “For the last time, get in the car,” he roared. “Now!”