Survival Games

by J. E. Taylor

  JET-Fueled Fiction

  Survival Games © March 2014 J.E. Taylor

  Second Edition

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For additional information contact:

  www.JETaylor75.com

  Cover Art © 2013 Cora Graphics

  http://www.coragraphics.it/

  Edited by Lorelei Logsdon - LoreleiLogsdon.com

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This book is for sale to Adult Audiences Only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes, graphic language and violence that may be considered offensive by some readers.

  Survival Games

  by

  J.E. Taylor

  Chapter 1

  Jessica Connor woke chained to a chair in a dark room. Her heart thudded and she strained to look around, but her head refused to move. The lights slowly brightened revealing a video screen.

  Hands descended onto her shoulders and a low voice whispered, “Relax and enjoy, I think this is my finest work yet.”

  A video remote appeared, and with a click of a button, the screen filled with a highway scene.

  Her car passed by the video camera and cut in front of an eighteen-wheeler, within a blink, the front tire burst and the little car swerved out of control. The truck driver had no time to react before he barreled into the little Scion XA, sending it rolling down the highway where it skidded to a stop on its roof.

  Jessica caught a glimpse of brown hair covered with blood against the driver’s side window. The scream of brakes filled the room and the truck hit the demolished car again. The little vehicle exploded and the truck pushed the flaming car another hundred yards before both came to a halt.

  People swerved to the side to view the wreckage and sirens wailed in the distance. The car taping the accident passed by the excited crowd gathering on the highway and Jessica saw the charcoaled remains of the driver in the wreckage that was her car.

  “Oh God,” she gasped, glancing down at her legs, fully expecting to see burnt skin. Her legs were bare and unmarked, no sign of harm from the fire, from the accident she had no recollection of. “I, I, I don’t understand.”

  She twisted her wrists in the iron bands holding her to the hard chair. Straps held her head in place and when she tried to move her legs, hard cold metal around her ankles stopped them. She stared at the screen in confusion. “I…I…,” she trailed off and the memory of being attacked at her car came flooding back. Jessica’s heart rate tripled and uncontrollable tremors gripped her bound frame.

  “Mmm, the death of Jessica Connor.” The smooth edge of his fingernails trailed down her bare arm. “They all believe you died in that crash. It was all over the news this evening.” The husky voice laughed and he came around the chair to stand in front of her. The man frightened her more than the video had. He squatted down from a height of a little over six feet to her level, and rested his arms on his knees. He was fit, like a quarterback, lean and powerful, with light chestnut hair slicked away from his face. When he smiled, his perfectly straight teeth seemed unnaturally white in contrast with his eyes, which looked black in the dark room—black and devoid of any hint of humanity as they breezed over her. A hideous scar ran from just below his eye to under the jawbone, breaking the left side of his face. Under normal circumstances, she would have described him as handsome, even with the scar on his face, but the lack of emotion in his eyes made Jessica recoil farther into the chair.

  “Unfortunately that’s not really how your life will end,” he said. “But until that time comes, we are going to have a world of fun!” He sat back on his haunches and smiled and their eyes finally met.

  His eyes flashed, revealing the striking blue irises for a brief moment, becoming almost iridescent in the dark room. Something clicked deep inside her and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her skin screamed as if doused in flames and terror gripped her, along with something else much more frightening.

  She yanked her mesmerized gaze away from his, bringing it back to the blank screen, understanding slowly seeped in and her fear turned to rage.

  “You bastard!” She struggled to free herself.

  He put his hand on her bare leg and slid it up her thigh. “You will be begging me for it before this is all over,” he said, his breath hot and foul.

  “Never!” She squeezed her eyes shut.

  The man laughed and pulled his hand away. He stood. “That’s what they say at first, but I always win.”

  Her eyes snapped open and she clenched her jaw in defiance. “Not in a million years.”

  He stepped back and pressed a button on the remote.

  Burning pain filled every cell and she screamed through a clenched jaw, her body rigid from the electricity passing through her. The buzz in her ears nearly drowned out a distant voice crying, “No!” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling and her body convulsed in the restraints.

  “I always win,” he said and released the button. “Always.”

  His declaration followed her into the darkness.

  Chapter 2

  An urn, a picture and dozens of yellow roses graced the alter. The organ played solemnly as people shuffled into the church.

  Daniel Connor sat in the front pew staring into space with his arms around each of his children. His daughter, Emily, cried softly while his son, Eric, played with little Star Wars figures. But he sat stoic, his emotions locked inside since that first phone call, the words yanking the air out of his lungs and turning his bones to gelatin. The wall supported his slow descent to the floor, the words of the officer jumbled, warbled in his ears like he was submerged in water. When he regained the ability to breathe, that’s when he realized his heart had been torn from his chest and what remained was an endless hollow cavern.

  “Shhh,” Daniel cooed into his daughter’s hair. A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to find his in-laws entering the row. They shared the same shell-shocked look and Daniel could relate. His world plummeted into turmoil with that phone call and the hole in the center of his chest blasted a hundred times wider when he had to identify his wife’s burnt remains.

  They sat in silence and the memorial service began. The priest shared inspirational words for the family about their loved one being at peace with God, but it did nothing to fill the hollowness in his soul. He didn’t want to know Jessica was in heaven, he wanted her here to help raise their family, to watch them grow, to rejoice and celebrate year after year together. He wanted his wife, and as family and friends shared stories, Daniel listened with a bitter and empty heart.

  Twenty years together.

  Twenty years gone in the squeal of tires and exploding gas.

  Twenty years and now, he was alone.

  A tug on his sleeve caught his attention as they were walking out of the church and he looked down at his son.

  “Daddy, don’t be sad, Mommy’s just sleeping. The bad man isn’t hurting her,” he said and then resumed playing with his Luke Skywalker figure.

  Slicing through the bitterness, his son’s innocent wor
ds struck hard and the empty cavern flooded, hot burning tears choked him and for the first time since getting the call, Daniel cried, a harsh rasping sound like sandpaper on steel escaped and the words croaked from his throat. “Eric, your Mom isn’t coming home.”

  “Yes she is.” Eric smiled and went back to playing with his toy.

  Daniel stared at his son, catching his breath and wiping the tears from his face aware of the people filtering around to pay their respects. He wished he shared the same delirious oblivion. Instead, he swallowed the bitter taste that filled his mouth and burned his throat, blinking the last of the stinging tears away and focused on the people in front of him, extending their hands and condolences.

  Chapter 3

  Ty Aris paced back and forth watching his stepsister work on his latest acquisition. His bright blue eyes swept over his prisoner’s body. Anticipation thrummed through his veins. He licked his lips and checked the IV in her arm before resuming his hunter’s pace.

  “When can we have her?”

  “Be patient,” Marian snapped and continued the tedious task of administering electrolysis to Jessica’s legs. “You want her to be perfect, that takes time. Besides, you don’t want to give someone else a razor, now do you?” She diverted her eyes from the magnifying glass to meet his gaze.

  Ty shook his head. The last time they gave someone a razor to shave, they found her dead in the bathroom.

  Marian let out a huff. “I probably would’ve done the same considering the alternatives.”

  Jessica stirred, her eyes fluttered open and she struggled against the bonds.

  “Shit,” Marian swore and grabbed a needle. She filled it and pushed it in the IV line, slowly releasing the sedative into her system.

  Jessica’s eyes closed and the taut muscles relaxed once again.

  “You’re gonna have your hands full with this one. She’s a spitfire,” Marian said. “Anytime she is remotely conscious, she fights.” Marian went back to the task of permanently removing the hair from Jessica’s legs.

  He studied the slight form, inhaling, her last defiant words echoing in his ears. Not in a million years. “We’ll just see about that,” he muttered under his breath.

  The first time their eyes met, it jolted him, like the surge from a bolt of lightning. Every sense heightened, tingling, overwhelming like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart stopped beating, his lungs closed for the fraction of a second their eyes locked, and then a rush of pure liquid fire engulfed him. He wanted that instant high again and couldn’t wait until she was conscious.

  This one, this little wild cat was his and his alone.

  “When will you be done?” Ty asked again.

  “Another month or so.”

  He ran his hands over Jessica’s bare breasts and smiled.

  “Go play with your other toys,” Marian barked and slapped his hand away. “I’ll let you know when she’s ready.”

  Ty nodded and slipped out of the procedure room. Periodic locked steel doors broke the gray concrete halls. Strolling past the doors and into the control room of the complex he had built from a large underground bomb shelter, he glanced up at the monitors and grinned.

  Who am I going to play with today?

  Chapter 4

  Jessica vaulted out of a nightmare, sitting up with her hands covering a scream that never quite made it. Her entire body ached but she thankfully had clothes on, unlike the last time.

  Random images flashed through her mind. Walking through the shadowy parking lot at work and shivering from the cold with the feeling of being watched. A cloth covering her face, then darkness. The terrifying encounter in the electric chair. An IV bag. Being strapped to what looked like a hospital bed and feeling pain in her face, arms and legs. She shook her head, erasing the images, and glanced around.

  The room was a perfect rectangle made of gray concrete except for a single mirrored wall. Cold. She shivered, catching her reflection before studying the lumpy mattress she sat on. It certainly had seen better days but at least there was a sheet on it. A treadmill sat in the far corner facing a screen attached to a swivel platform allowing a view from any angle in the room. And right smack in the middle of the room was the electric chair.

  A short wall beyond the monstrosity caught her attention and she stood, crossing and entering a small private bathroom that included a separate tub and shower along with the standard toilet and sink. A closet adorned the corner and she opened it, finding towels, shampoo, soap and feminine products, but no razors or anything that could be used as a weapon and no medications of any kind.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, she inspected the ceiling, noting three cameras and wondering if there were any more that she couldn’t see. Slow icy fingers tapped their way up her spine and she shuddered.

  He was watching.

  Panic threatened and she took a seat on the mattress with her back to the mirror, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on her folded arms. Her long brown hair cascaded around her, shutting off any possible view of her face. She didn’t want him to see, didn’t want him to know how unnerved she was. She closed her eyes, willing the terror away, willing herself to relax.

  She inhaled and exhaled, continuing to take deep cleansing breaths, concentrating on counting each one, taking herself into a state of meditation.

  The room slowly evaporated around her and she went deeper into herself. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on her son’s bed in her house.

  “Hi, Mommy.” Eric’s voice filled her mind even though his lips remained in the closed smile she adored.

  “Hi, baby.” She reached out to touch his face.

  The physical sensation of touching his skin startled her and her eyes flew open to the barren jail.

  She stared at her fingertips in awe, her heart raced, throbbing in her ears. Her fingers still carried the sensation of his soft skin. Uttering a startled laugh, she glanced around the room and back at her hand. If she could reach her son with her mind, she would eventually reach him with the rest of her being.

  “Get up!” the voiced boomed through the room and Jessica jumped.

  She hopped to her feet and turned toward the mirrored wall unwilling to show a hint of the fear tainting her veins. Instead, she flipped her hair, squaring her shoulders and glared at the mirror. She stared at her reflection, petite, deep brown eyes, high graceful cheek bones, full soft lips and the shocker that made her blink a couple of times; a perfect hourglass figure accented by the faded remnants of a deep summer tan. She hadn’t looked this good in years, the small bulge at her belly that she carried since her son was born was gone along with any hint of extra weight she carried on her hips and thighs. When her eyes locked with her reflection, she shook the shock off her face.

  “What,” she barked at the mirror.

  “It’s time for your workout,” the voice thundered in the room.

  “Yeah, right. And if I refuse?”

  “We will have another turn in the chair,” the voice said.

  Jessica turned her head in the direction of the chair and then at the treadmill trying to keep the fear at bay. “Fuck you.” She returned her gaze to the mirror.

  “That can be arranged.”

  The low purr of his voice both terrified her and deeply turned her on. Heat flushed her cheeks and she glanced back at the treadmill, rubbing her arms against the chill in the air. She cast a weary glance at the mirror before heading in the direction of the exercise machine.

  Sitting on the floor next to the tread were a pair of running shoes in her size. She slipped them on her feet and took a closer look at the treadmill. Her heart jumped into her throat and her gaze shot back to the mirror.

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.” There were metal wrist shackles on the handgrips.

  The cackling came over the speakers. “Perhaps. Now I’m going to give you to the count of ten to get on the machine or we’ll be having another unpleasant session in the chair.”

  Jess
ica’s gaze alternated between the chair in the middle of the room and the treadmill, debating. She made her choice and stepped onto the machine.

  “Now, put your right wrist in the restraint.”

  “I don’t think so.” Jessica shook her head.

  There was silence for a moment. “Then I guess it’s the chair.”

  Goosebumps glided over her skin and she shivered. “Shit,” Jessica swore under her breath and begrudgingly put her right arm in the restraint. The shackle closed painfully around her wrist.

  “That a girl,” the voice said. “Now the other one.”

  Jessica glared at the mirror muttering a ream of swears and put her left arm in the restraint. The shackle closed around her wrist with the same painful grip. The treadmill began to move slowly at first and increased, pulling on her wrists painfully as she tried to keep up the pace. “Not so fast,” she gasped, “I can’t…keep up…this pace.”

  “You will keep up the pace,” he commanded through the loudspeakers. “Here are some motivational tapes to help.”

  The screen lit up and she watched in horror. The videos assaulted her senses, alternating between scenes of women and men being tortured, raped, maimed and murdered. These videos were the real deal and Jessica struggled not to vomit at the glimpse of what her future held.

  Her heart slammed in her chest with the frantic beat of her feet on the tread. Her thighs burned, like red-hot irons stabbing her with each step. Buckets of sweat rolled off her, making the treadmill slick in the spots where it stained the belt. The metal shackles cut into her wrist and she fought to catch her breath, to keep pace. Her eyes filled with tears, tears of frustration, tears of pain, tears of fear and she caught herself, violently shaking her head, blinking them away.

  I will not cry!

  She clenched her teeth, determined not to let her captor see her falter.