This is the End (Book 2): Not Dead Yet
Page 18
I tried to smile in apology as I dried myself with the scratchy fabric but she turned away before I could. I could actually feel the hair on my legs growing as I waited impatiently for her to turn back around, arms full of something that truly terrified me.
Taking the pile of clothing from her outstretched hand, I held it up and wondered if going naked would really be such a bad thing. It was a too-long shift dress like hers in a god-awful gingham print that reminded me of ‘Little House on the Prairie’.
I was about to tell her I’d just wear the towel as she handed me another bundle of clothing and this time I was relieved to see the set of clean bra and panties that had been in my backpack. I quickly put them on and continued to stare at the sack of fabric with derision. Her features twisted with impatience and I bit back a sigh and began swimming up through the bottom of the hideous thing until my hands emerged from the sleeves. Looking down at myself, I bit back a shudder. It was a shapeless rust colored sack that vaguely resembled a dress and I thought hard about just making do in my underwear.
The girl grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the tiny bedroom, sitting me down on the bed and picking up a brush to work through my hair. She didn’t use detangler, which was painful to say the least. The beast on my head fought her at every turn and I bit my tongue more than once as she worked out the knots and deftly braided it up onto my head. Reaching up to inspect her work, I was impressed at her ability to tame my curls and yet horrified at the braided crown of hair on my skull. It was the first time I was glad Jack and the others couldn’t see me; I knew I looked ridiculous.
She reached up to start to take the stud out of my lip and that was where I drew the line. I smacked her hand lightly and pulled back, determined to keep my jewelry. We conversed entirely with our eyes and I knew I’d won when she stood to leave.
I watched her open the door and pick up a bottle of water and yet another bowl of gruel, bring them in and set them on the table next to the bed. She shuffled soundlessly back out and I waited to hear the lock click before I let out the breath I’d been holding.
When I was sure she was gone, I ran back into the bathroom and relieved myself before turning my attention on escaping. She’d taken my old clothes and my shoes, leaving me the sack I was wearing and barefoot. It was probably on purpose; they probably didn’t think I’d try anything without shoes but they underestimated my determination to get the fuck out of here. I’d run through the woods barefoot and naked if it meant I could get away.
The bathroom was windowless, but there was a tiny window above the bed. I climbed up and balanced on the lumpy mattress, trying to see through the dingy glass. The window was small and considering it was still night, I couldn’t see much. The barn I’d been in the night before was off to the left and men were milling about the property on patrol.
I was facing the front of the house so I couldn’t see the entrance to the underground cells we’d been in previously which left me still wondering how the others were faring.
The compound was large, but the buildings were sparse and there weren’t many trees, which left a lot of open space between me and the fence; escaping quietly likely wasn’t an option.
There wasn’t much else I could do tonight, so I resigned myself to laying down on the lumpy mattress and trying to sleep. I picked at the food on the table but I was still so cold from the bath all I wanted to do was wrap myself up in the threadbare blanket and try to sleep it off.
The Preacher’s words haunted me and I started to wonder if maybe he was on to something. Could I have really been chosen for all of this? If there was a God, why would he pick me and what for? The logical side of me knew this was brainwashing at its finest and yet the hunger and the cold must’ve begun to play a factor as I actually started to consider his point of view.
Overzealous religious types have been screaming about the end of days for so long that maybe they’d been onto something. Was this it? Was this our comeuppance for the centuries of forward thinking and a burgeoning disregard for religion?
I stared at the shadows dancing across the ceiling from the light of the lantern and thought hard about that. No, this couldn’t be God. This was man made, just like every other travesty in history. Sure, wars were fought in the name of religion and people were persecuted for pretty much just being different but something told me that if religion were founded in reality; this was all man and God was probably shaking his head at the lot of us.
Rolling onto my side, I pulled the blanket over my head and tried not to think about it anymore. I missed Jack and the kids and Roscoe so much it hurt and although I was still mad at Austin, I was sorry for what they were doing to him; to us. For all our good intentions, every plan we had to try and make it out of this alive only got us deeper into trouble and I had to wonder if maybe I should just give in and let it happen.
Chapter 11:
Ugh, what the fuck was in that stew? I thought to myself as I tried to escape the sunlight streaming in through the window over my head. The room was starting to feel like an oven and sweat was already beading up on my skin as I kicked off the blanket and threw an arm over my face to block out the light.
I’d been awake long enough to use the bathroom and crawl back into bed and listen to the noises of the house around me. I’d dreamt that Marilyn Manson had descended upon the compound in a fleet of helicopters preaching about The End while smearing lipstick on the Preacher’s face before breaking a beer bottle and handing it to me so I could stab him. We then boarded the chopper and flew off into the sunset, guitars raging in the background over the fires below. I’d had weirder dreams, but this had been one of the strangest and best. Of course it made sense that my subconscious would fight a cult with the only person I knew to be the polar opposite. I could only hope he was alive so I could someday find him and thank him for making me smile at the destruction of this awful place.
Soft footsteps echoed outside the door and I sat up expectantly. The heartbeat told me it was the girl from last night whose name I still didn’t know. My suspicions were confirmed as she poked her head through the door and seeing me awake, proceeded into the room.
She stopped when she reached me and started to unravel the pile of chains she’d been carrying.
“Is this really necessary? How far would I possibly get without shoes?” I whined as she wrapped the thin chain around my waist and secured it to my hands. She left my feet free and I had enough chain that I could move my arms without much issue, but still it was uncomfortable.
Without a word, she stood and brushed off her dress, looking at me expectantly. I was starting to wonder if she could speak as I stood and started to follow her out of the room.
The house was quiet but I could hear people outside on the property going about their day. On the bright side, having super hearing meant it would be really fucking hard for anyone to sneak up on me ever again.
I giggled inwardly at that as I padded down the stairs after the girl and right into a large old-fashioned kitchen. It had modern appliances, but there were two large fireplaces with giant pots hanging above them. I looked around at the three other women running around cooking. They were all wearing the same style dress as I and all had hair braided into crowns atop their heads.
No one said a word as the girl led me further into the room; they just stopped and stared at me in derision for a moment before going back to chopping and peeling.
She led me over to a large basin with an even larger pile of dirty dishes next to it and I started to back away. “No, no fucking way. I don’t do dishes. Period.” I crossed my arms in defiance and she just stared at me helplessly.
One of the other women came bustling over and before I had a chance to react, slapped me hard across the face and pointed to the dishes. She was older and I got the distinct impression she was very much in charge as far as women were allowed.
Her steel gray hair had flyaways which only made her look even crazier and her unibrow was a force to be reckoned with. I
took her for Mrs. The Preacher.
She reached up to smack me again and I held my hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’ll do the damn dishes.” I started to turn towards the sink when she backhanded me again, this time hard enough to make me stumble.
My cheek felt like the bone had exploded and all I could do was stare up at her in confusion. Scowl still in place, she put a finger to her lips telling me to shut it, then crossed her arms over her chest just waiting until I needed to be hit again.
I took that to mean we weren’t supposed to talk and turned towards the sink, rolling my sleeves up past my elbows and got to work.
Satisfied I wasn’t going to cause any more trouble, she turned back to lording over the kitchen and I watched the women work silently out of the corner of my eye.
The basin was situated in front of a large window which gave me a better view of the property. I watched the activity outside as I washed and washed and washed. If there was a Hell and if I was going there, this was it; it would be me in a horrible dress doing dishes by hand for eternity.
Dishes kept arriving at my work station and I just kept washing. My fingers had long gone pruny from the repeated water exposure and my feet were starting to ache but after a few hours in front of the window, I was grateful for the positioning as it gave me a great vantage on what the outside routine was. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had my IPod with me, but considering how quiet the women in the kitchen with me were, I got the feeling music wasn’t permitted. It was a damn shame; they really needed some Korn in their lives.
The day carried on like that, with only a brief interlude so we could eat some gruel for lunch and then it was more dishes. They did let me go to the bathroom every few hours which was nice, but air conditioning would’ve been nicer. I was glad that I wasn’t covered in the dirt of the last several days anymore but the sweat seeping from my pores was becoming sticky and uncomfortable.
After dinner, I finished the last dish and stood back, enjoying not having my hands in dishwater for a moment. It was brief; before I could even take a breath the Kitchen Wench grabbed my chains and escorted me roughly back to the sitting room where the Preacher was once again seated by the fire reading from a bible.
He stood at seeing us enter and nodded to the evil Wench. She dragged me to the middle of the room and forced me to my knees in front of the Preacher. I thought about tripping her with my chains but the urge was quickly replaced upon seeing her pick up a mean looking cat-o-nine-tails. Holy fuck, this day just took an unfortunate turn…
“Have you found God yet, Angie?” I looked up at the Preacher standing over me and thought about how the fire raging behind him made him look an awful lot like Satan but decided to keep that to myself.
“Was He in the sink? ‘Cuz dishes are the only thing I found today,” I replied sarcastically holding up my dish hands as proof.
I knew it was an unfortunate word choice when I caught sight of the Wench swing the weapon behind me and strike my back. My flesh was instantly on fire with pain and I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. It was like being whipped if the whip were made of several strips of leather with spikes attached. I could only hope the wound healed before I bled to death.
The Preacher nodded to the Wench and opened the bible in his hands, flipped a few pages and started to read.
“The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God. Galatians 5:19-21. I ask again, have you found God, Angie?”
“I think you missed a few of my sins there,” I answered while trying to catch my breath past the pain in my back. Again, a poor word choice as the Wench brought the whip down harder and faster this time. She didn’t stop there; she just kept whipping me over and over and the Preacher just kept reading more versus from the book.
The pain was exquisite and it was all I could do to remain upright through the blows. Blood was trickling down my shoulder and I watched with interest as it made its way down my arm and formed a little puddle on the floor.
After more blows than I could count, he finally stopped reading and looked down at me. I was on all fours by that point just trying to stay alive. “Have you found God, Angie?”
I coughed and spit onto the rug at his feet. “Ya know, converting people would go better if you used cookies and tickling.”
I tried to laugh but only ended up in a coughing fit as I watched the rage play out over his face. Evil. I was staring into the face of evil as all of his hatred for me twisted his normally calm features into a loathing sneer.
“I guess we’ll just have to work harder with you, won’t we?” He grabbed my chin and spit the words into my face, grinning like the madman he was then nodding at the Wench.
She grabbed my arm roughly and yanked me to my feet and out of the room. I tripped enough that the Ogre had to grab the chains from her and drag me through the house. He pulled me down a flight of stairs into a basement, making sure my bones hit everything they could on the way down.
We reached the bottom and he picked me up and threw me against a cement wall in the corner before grabbing my chains and looping them through rings in the wall. He chained me standing to the wall, not leaving enough give for me to even kneel. The pain was such that I ended up projectile vomiting all down the front of his shirt, which only earned me a few punches to the face.
The last thing I saw was a fist coming at me and then there was nothing.
Moaning. I could hear moaning although I wasn’t sure if it was coming from me or not. The only light was coming from a few small windows high on the walls but there was enough moonlight for me to get a better look at the basement through my swollen eyes.
My entire body hurt so bad I had to fight not to throw up again as I looked around trying to place the sounds. Panic exploded through me when I realized there were fucking zombies chained up on the other side of the room to the walls like I was.
Oh fuck, this was bad; really bad. I started yanking on the chains in earnest looking for even a little bit of slack but the damn things were infallible. I focused on taking deep even breaths and taking stock of the situation at hand.
There were four zombies chained to the wall across from me, all in various stages of decay. I counted two men, one woman and one child, which really made my skin crawl. They were all wearing the same sort of clothing all the other freaks around here were so I figured they were family who’d been infected but instead of putting them down like a normal goddamned person, they kept them chained up down here like animals.
The smell of my blood was driving them into a frenzy and I couldn’t contain my fear as they fought vigorously against their restraints in their pursuit of my blood. If they got lose and bit me, sure, I wouldn’t turn but I could still die while being eaten alive which was the exact reason I didn’t camp or surf; bears and sharks.
After a scary-assed eternity, they settled back down to just moaning and hissing at me, which was leaps and bounds better than trying to break free, but it still meant I was in for a long night. The adults weren’t so bad; they were just dirty and bloody but the little girl, she freaked me out to no end.
I’d seen my fair share of disturbing things up to this point but she looked like several things had used her as a chew toy before giving up. I doubted she’d been more than 8 or 9 with rosy, cherub cheeks and golden hair. Now part of her cheek was gone, exposing bone and her skull hung open, giving me a great view of the circus of insects feasting in her cranium. A beetle scuttled out of her skull and down her face and I threw up all over again.
Everything was already out of my stomach so I just continued to dry heave, which made the pain worse, which made me heave harder; it was a vicious cycle but I didn’t dare pass out with corpses so uncomfortably close to me.
Hours passed in a haze of pain and delirium. I could no longer tell if it was night or day and frankly didn’t care anymore. I watched the dead in front of me still focused on making me their next meal and giggled at our fate. I fell into complete hysterical laughter when I looked down to see blood dripping down my ankle and onto the ground below. Either my period had chosen that very moment to start or I had some relatively serious internal injuries. On the bright side, at least I was pretty sure I definitely wasn’t pregnant, which was always cause for celebration.
A fever raged through me making the blood still spilling from my veins feel like liquid lava, but it meant I was still alive, which meant there was still hope.
To pass the time, I’d been singing to the zombies, which only fueled their rage. I sang the entire soundtrack to ‘South Park: The Movie’ and apparently they weren’t fans. I was just finishing up the score to ‘Hello Dolly’ when I heard the door at the top of the stairs creak and the sound of heavy footsteps descending into my Hell.
The Ogre stopped at the bottom of the stairs with something large in his hands and stared first at me, then the zombies. He must have finished his visual inspection because he started towards them without further ado.
I watched as he held something that looked suspiciously like a dead cat up to their mouths and started heaving all over again as they tore into its flesh like rabid dogs. Grinning over his shoulder at my discomfort, he made quite the show of feeding them.