She’s cute, young. Even if she’s too young, it has been a while since he has been with a woman. He had foregone carnal pleasures for a while. Emily has offered herself to him, but she’s confused, and as nice as it is for a woman to want him, he has to know she’s not just spreading herself in a prostituting gesture in order to be protected. He will protect her the way he protects all those in his camp.
In his conscious avoidance of watching Emily, he neglected to notice the small group gathering around the immediate inside of the gate area. A flaw he’d need to correct. If he weren’t inside his compound it could mean his death and it could end this flimsy community held together with the Scotch tape and bubblegum he provides. He has worked too hard to start this place and those who have joined him even harder to keep it. If they are to survive then they must be ever vigilant. And the modesty of a teenager has lost priority.
Emily finishes dressing before he swings open the door to the inside of the compound. “You going to be okay?” He asks her softly.
“You’ve seen me naked, so it wasn’t as bad as I first felt.” Her feet hop out of the cage. “Somehow I feel safer in here than I did at the military base.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
He adjusts his gun on his hip before joining the gathering crowd. “Always nice to have such a warm welcome home.”
A Native American, near seven foot tall, with raven hair braided with a feather embraces Emily’s rescuer. He has two red lines painted on his cheeks—a Sioux Indian battle tradition. Even without them he looks scarier than shit to those who don’t know him. There’s a gleaming silver tomahawk dangling from his belt. Emily eases next to her savior, putting him between her and the towering hatchet-wielding giant. Keeping her eyes from meeting the Sioux, she glances at the midriffs of each person gathered. All are armed with pistols, even the few that carry rifles have a handgun on their hip. It brings her back to the reality of how brutal life is even with the protection of the fence. There are too many biters, too many lumbering dead not to have a gun.
“Wanikiya is my second in command. He runs the compound when I go out to gather supplies or search for survivors, with the skills to keep the hot water operational.”
Emily knows she heard incorrectly. Hot water—something she would willingly whore herself out for after nine months of sponge baths and no pressure cold water showers.
She feels his remark should have been taken as a joke but this crowd, a mixture of workers, display faces of concern, anguish, and disappointment.
Emily keeps her eyes on his hands. They go nowhere near his guns. He brings these people items to add to their coffers, so their disappointment isn’t with their leader. He reminds her of a good Roman general with his sharing of the spoils ensuring his reign as sovereign over his people. He doesn’t give her the kind of vibe of a conquering hero, not having much experience with asshole champions other than her classmates winning state her freshman year. He could have brought back three times as many supplies if he were applying for Caesar.
He notes Emily hiding behind him. This group’s unknown to her and could feel imposing. What he does to keep this community alive is important, but what he won’t admit is it’s kind of a cheat. The end of the world reduced what’s necessary to live, and jobs become more manual labor intensive than working in the vegetable gardens. Scavenging the ruins of civilization is a far less menial task than tending to spring tomatoes.
This gathering isn’t about him. Something bad must have happened while he’s been foraging. Wanikiya nods in greeting at Emily.
What has now become instinct causes his hand to brush over the Beretta behind his .357, just in case. His quick evaluation of the situation reveals that at least five of them would have bullets in them before they could fire at him. Who knows, a lucky shot could be all he gets. He doubts even with his speed an expenditure of all sixteen rounds is possible against targets capable of shooting back.
He shakes thoughts from his mind. These people aren’t here for a coup. They have elected to have basic laws keeping them alive in here. The question becomes, what happened behind the fence while he was in the wilderness to bring them in such force?
“Once again, you’re welcome, sir,” Wanikiya’s barreled voice greets him.
He still expects the voice of Tonto with a what-do-you-mean-we-paleface drawl. Wanikiya has no such accent. In fact, his English is of someone highly educated. The Sioux man has become his trusted friend since the world ended, but he doubts Wanikiya was his given birth name before the undead walked. George or Bob or Frank is more likely. Wanikiya speaks little of his life before the end. Most people are better off not to. Despite the community and the trust grown here, there are those who would wish to destroy it, and using a person’s past effectively could work against them.
Several men unload the truck brought through the gate system.
“The spirit god smiled on you once again,” Wanikiya compliments.
“Some ammo this time, couple of renegades were considering using Emily for sport. And they had an arsenal. She’s a good choice for the farm.”
Their code for no useful skills. At least not in this world. Two CPAs, a lawyer, and a business executive for a dot com company all shovel pig shit now. Their old world skills don’t translate well to the apocalypse. People forget how capable they physically are when it comes to picking up a shovel or learning to shoot. Those who hit what they aim at work the wall as guards. Poor shots work in labor. One day the workforce at the camp will outnumber the guards but not until the geeks stop rising.
“Always good to be back, but this can’t be a social greeting.”
“No,” Doctor Baker addresses him. His nurse, Kayla, keeps an arm on seventeen-year-old Samantha.
Sam hangs her head so her long dirty blonde hair covers her eyes. Her clothes are too big for her skinny frame. Nothing in his imagination reveals how this scarecrow of a girl could have possibly done something worthy of an armed escort.
He notes Sam has no gun. She was slated to be instructed while he was gone. He found her along with two others sleeping in a school bus some two weeks ago. They had no skills, but working cattle and throwing hay bales is quickly taught.
Two men escort Kyle from the guard tower at the end of cargo containers. There are three, maybe four, Kyles living in the compound. This one’s 22. Most likely a pothead, at best, but he was with a group with two EMTs. He couldn’t have passed them up. He could hardly reject one person on a feeling and convince the others to accompany him. Besides, Kyle could use a shovel.
He thought Kyle wasn’t on farm detail. He was on new fence patrol to expand the compound. Whatever happened was between these two. He has an idea, but hopes he’s wrong. The world has fallen apart outside the fence. Inside civilization, at least the best version of it, will remain as long as he breathes. Kyle’s been handcuffed behind his back and has a black eye.
He feels Kyle’s stomach as if he were seven months pregnant. Kyle’s eyes scream what are you doing, homo?, but he keeps quiet.
Nothing’s broken. They didn’t beat him, he speculates, at least not beyond the eye.
Wanikiya begins, “Kyle skipped his work detail.”
They must deal with loafing swiftly. There’ll be no slackers fed, and they don’t need his approval to punish laziness. Kyle’s guilty of something grander.
“If he was still on building fence detail then he had to be checked in at the gate.”
He confirms procedure was followed with a simple glance from Wanikiya.
“Sam also missed her shift,” Wanikiya continues, “and was found asleep in the barn. She claims Kyle assaulted her.”
“Rape will not be tolerated in this community,” he stresses. “Accusations of rape won’t be tolerated, either. This crime’s serious and requires swift action if we are to remain a community.”
Emily witnessed firsthand how he dealt with rapists.
Dr. Baker offers, “Physically, she shows the trauma of forced inte
rcourse.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Emily watches the man who saved her violate Sam’s personal space as he lifts her chin gently and peers into her eyes. Emily feels sick at the taunt he gives Sam next.
“Maybe she likes it rough. Some girls get off on a hardcore slap then a solid fucking.” He never averts his eyes from hers.
Emily observed him being harsh and mean to her as his way of toughening her up, but he was never this way about the rape. He’s treating Sam like she asked for it. Emily understands from staring into her eyes that this girl did anything but ask to be violated.
Her eyes, the windows to the soul, reveal she didn’t ask for this. Now the humiliation he’s subjecting her to is just as horrible as Kyle pinning her to the straw-covered floor and thrusting himself repeatedly inside her, and making her tell him to moan she wanted more.
Emily spots truth in Sam’s eyes and realizes her rescuer recognizes the truth.
But his knowing and confirming it are not the same. “He get off forcing you to beg to be violated?”
“What the hell, dude, you can’t ask her stuff like that!” Kyle protests.
Sam’s eyes well with the memory—the pain. She fights hard within herself not to cry. She won’t shed any more tears because of Kyle.
He hates to make Sam feel worse, but he has to know. He has to be sure, because what will transpire in the next few minutes will be done to keep his community safe. This trial will reveal that to have heaven there must be a devil.
“Tell me what happened, Sam.” Comfort consumes his voice.
“Kyle…” her pause is long. “He followed me into the barn. He’d been asking me to be his girlfriend for a few days. Said if we were a couple, we could request a house once the new area he was helping to fence in was completed, and maybe I could be assigned to a new task. He knew I don’t like feeding pigs. I told him I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want a boyfriend.” She holds in her tears. “I watched the last one be eaten by those biters.”
“What happened in the barn?”
Emily sees a caring man in her rescuer. More so than he wants to let on.
“He wouldn’t leave me alone. He made me. Made me touch him. Then…” She collapses under her own weight. Kayla helps her to sit on the ground. Sam cries, scrunching into a fetal ball.
“Dude, you going to let her railroad me with this display of little girl crying?”
He holds up one finger which stops Wanikiya from striking Kyle.
“I’d have to say without more lab equipment the vaginal tears were from forced entry.”
“Don’t I get a say? I have rights,” Kyle protests.
“Under what system? It’s survival of the fittest now,” Barlock snaps. The linebacker guard holding Kyle would pound the kid if he could.
“Not here. Not behind this fence. We’ve a community here, and the rules we have keep us from becoming like out there. Anyone who doesn’t want to live by these rules, pack a single bag and step outside the fence right now. I will have order. This is my house.”
Stern and angry, but not yelling, he reminds Kyle of this, and since everyone here’s alive because of him, Emily notes they all agree.
He keeps his concerned tone and asks, “Kyle, what happened to your eye?”
“When they arrested me I got hit.”
“No other beating?”
“They wanted to.”
“You resist the cuffs?”
“You’re damn right, dude.”
He ignores the eye. He should praise his men for only the one hit, not an unreasonable action in an apprehension. The kid should be thankful they didn’t beat him.
“Well, I’ve always the notion you’re innocent until evidence to the contrary is presented.”
Kyle jumps to his defense, “She wanted it. She begged me. When she got in trouble for missing her shift she said I forced her.”
“Plausible.”
He glances at Wanikiya for his contribution to the event.
“We found her asleep in the barn. Discipline was going to be administered—a few days reduced rations, but she was naked, bleeding, and her clothes were torn.”
“Menstrual flow?”
Emily finds the question strange even after he asked her about her own monthly. She used to watch Matlock with her grandmother and he never asked witnesses such questions.
The doctor shakes his head no.
“Kyle, did you rape Sam?”
“She wanted it.”
“Stand her up.”
The nurse, along with a guard, hold Sam on her feet.
He looks at Sam, “You understand the seriousness of this?”
She nods.
“I’ve a zero tolerance for this. Penalty will be swift and severe. So, I ask you, one last time, did Kyle, this boy standing right here.” He grips her chin with a firm hold and twists her face at Kyle. “Look at him. Did he rape you?”
Seconds.
Maybe a minute passes and she blurts, “Yes.”
He snap turns on his heel facing Kyle. “Does anyone have any evidence, anything to show Kyle’s innocence?”
He nods at a guard by the watchtower. He disappears into the building.
“No one. This is a man’s life here and the life of our community.”
“She wanted me!”
Emily notes the swift and speedy trial is nothing like Matlock, but it’s effective and the boy has been given his chance. Whatever happens she feels safe here with the man who saved her.
The guard from the tower wheels out an acetylene torch and carries a butcher knife.
“What are you going to do?” Kyle struggles against his escort.
They tighten their grip.
The pop of the acetylene igniting makes some of the group jump.
The guard heats the metal cleaver to red.
“Strip him.” He pulls on a leather work glove from his duster coat pocket and takes the white hot cleaver.
Wanikiya wraps his fingers into Kyle’s hair and shoves him against a stump before pulling his body back. Kyle’s junk sprawls onto the stump.
“I won’t tolerate rape in this community. Doc?”
“She was forcibly entered. I have no doubt,” Dr. Baker confirms.
“The evidence has been reviewed. Convicted rapist…”
Kyle screams and the putrid smell of cooking meat and singed hair sickens the group. Wanikiya allows Kyle to collapse to the ground. A smoldering nub replaces his penis.
Emily turns her head. She hears the cleaver sink into the stump. The annual rings blacken from the heat.
“Dr. Baker, when you feel Sam capable of returning to her duties, release her. Wanikiya, Kyle’s now assigned to protection duty outside the fence. The rest of you pass along the penalty for forcible rape. We won’t give in to what’s going on outside our community. Our newest member, Emily, was being attacked by rapists when I found her. It won’t happen here. We keep our humanity.”
Emily wishes he hadn’t shared her attack with these strangers.
“I’ll see he’s found a new duty. What about the new girl?” Wanikiya asks.
“I’m going to introduce her to Dar. Send someone to get her later.”
The group returns to their duties all queasy from what they witnessed. Dr. Baker remains.
“Doc, he doesn’t need your attention. They’ll take care of him at the outer guard station.”
“The area of shipping crates, about a half mile past the east end of the compound. You have no medics there,” Dr. Baker protests.
“Kyle will continue to serve in the protection of his compound, but he’ll never set a foot back inside.”
“You sealed his urethra. He will be unable to urinate.”
“Take care of your patient, Doc. Make sure Sam heals, and after she’s processed, check Emily over. Most of her trauma is mental, but she was attacked, too.”
“Processed?” Doesn’t sound pleasant. Emily contemplates but the doctor asks first.
/> “Are all criminal penalties this severe?”
“You’re free to leave any time, Doc, if you don’t like it. But the dead don’t distinguish between people who maintain morals of the old world and those who don’t. Neither will most of the survivors out there. This’s the only place we’re not meat for the grinder, and at first, at least for now, punishment must be harsh and swift. There will be no rapes within these walls.”
Emily notes the farmhouse was once elegant, but due to neglect it has slipped into disrepair. The dilapidated building structure remains stout despite shutters falling off the windows. The twelve foot high fence surrounding the home, small yard, and garden area make it invitingly safe.
“Do you reinforce all your buildings with a second row of fence?” Emily asks.
“This was the colony’s first home. We secured this building and lived in it for a while until we could build the larger fence and take over other buildings and secure the area. I keep it as living quarters. We moved our headquarters to an elementary school. It works as a community building. The school’s the only place big enough to hold our Sunday meetings now.”
“Church?”
“More like town hall.”
A young boy about Emily’s age, maybe a year younger, eyes them suspiciously from the front porch. Emily’s eyes meet with his. He’s not eyeing them, he’s staring at her with distrust.
“Manners, Dartagnan,” he snaps at the boy. The tone feels harsh. Nothing like the way he just spoke to Sam.
Dartagnan peels himself from the column. “Not time to plant yet.” He shakes his head longer than necessary.
Retarded? Emily wonders. No, he doesn’t look special. He appears normal, except decorating his left arm are six watches, each of a different color.
“When?”
“Next full moon. I’ll plant the garden.” He gets excited as they cross the threshold of the chain length fence. “Did you bring?”
No Room In Hell (Book 1): The Good, The Bad and The Undead Page 8
