Cities of Rust

by Ariel Bonin

  _____

  Lindsey trudged into the control room, Isaac pushing her along with his rifle. Her forlorn eyes widened as she saw Charlie, Ana, and—Zoey?

  "What the hell is she doing here?" she shot at Samuel.

  The man squeezed Zoey's shoulder and kept his pistol at her back. "Your girl here tried to escape, killing one of my men in the process. For the inconvenience she's caused me, I'm requiring her presence for this special moment. I never include children in this sort of thing, but I think watching Daddy die would be an adequate punishment," Samuel stated, vengeance flashing in his clear eyes.

  "You're a dead man..." Lindsey mumbled under her breath.

  Samuel raised his eyebrows and tilted an ear in her direction as a smile teased at the corner of his mouth. "What did you just say?"

  "You heard me," she said with a hateful glare.

  Now, the man grinned. "Good luck with that, honey."

  She watched Samuel turn back to the glass window, Zoey positioned in front of him. Isaac forced Lindsey to her spot between Samuel and Charlie. She'd kept her hand close to her torso, and was surprised when Charlie reached for her arm.

  "Let me see," he said.

  "My finger's all jacked up… I don't think you can do anything right now."

  Charlie held open her small hand—at least, it looked small in his own—and inspected her finger. "It's dislocated."

  "What can you do?"

  "Lemons," he said quietly.

  "Wha-?" Lindsey began to ask in confusion, but let out a sharp cry when Charlie wrenched her finger back into place. Once again, she cradled her hand, feeling a tinge of relief. "Thanks."

  Charlie gave her a nod. "How's your head?"

  "Hurts."

  He grunted in reply and stepped back into his spot. Lindsey followed suit, gazing down at the floor below. Andrew emerged from the side door, and she struggled to breathe. The lack of oxygen and grip of fear made her head throb. Andrew's competitor walked onto the floor, and Lindsey rubbed her eyes. Maybe the head injury was making her see things?

  "Dean?" she whispered.

  Samuel glanced at her. "You know him?"

  "Yeah… He was part of our group. We asked him to leave."

  He scoffed. "Why? A strong guy like that is good to have around in times like these…" He took in her uncomfortable expression. "Oh! You and him?"

  "No," she snarled. "Just him."

  Samuel released a howl of laughter. "Well, hot damn! This is going to be good."

  _____

  Loathing glittered in Andrew's blue eyes as he stared across the space between him and the exiled man.

  Dean smirked, rolling up his sleeves. "Didn't think I'd see you again."

  "I swore to myself that I'd kill you if I did."

  "It looks like we've wound up in the appropriate place then, wouldn't you say?" Dean glanced up at Lindsey in the control room. "I don't know what she sees in you, man. How much longer can you handle a woman like that? Won't you be needing a walker soon?"

  Andrew chuckled at the age jab, and Dean slid him a sideways glance.

  "I can still taste her on my lips."

  Instant rage swelled within Andrew and he surged forward, not even waiting for Samuel to commence the start of the fight. He slammed into Dean, knocking the broad-shouldered man to the floor. Andrew delivered a furious blow to Dean's brow and went to strike again, but Dean blocked him. As the two men struggled for control, Dean jabbed upward, catching Andrew in the jaw. Before Dean could grab him, Andrew rolled out of the man's reach and sprung to his feet.

  Dean shook his head as he stood. "You're faster than I give you credit for, Andrew. I guess I should actually start trying now."

  Andrew smiled and said, "Don't hold back at my expense."

  Dean cracked his neck side to side and put his fists up, immediately advancing on Andrew. He swung, but Andrew ducked, punching Dean straight in the stomach. Dean flinched, and Andrew chose that moment to swipe his leg across the back of Dean's knees, bringing his opponent to the floor once again. Andrew hovered over Dean, grabbing the man's shirt in one hand and striking him with the other. He repeatedly hit the man in the face, drawing blood from both of them. Andrew's knuckles were raw, but he barely noticed. He was finding too much satisfaction in watching Dean suffer.

  Without warning, Dean rose up, tossing Andrew onto his side. He rammed his knee into Andrew's gut, but the blue-eyed man reacted swiftly. He grasped Dean's leg and flipped his competitor into a position where he could lock his legs around the man's neck. Dean clawed at his thighs, trying to break free. Andrew smashed his fist into Dean's temple, stunning the man unconscious momentarily.

  When Dean came to, he somehow twisted out of Andrew's hold and recoiled back a few yards. Andrew got to his feet, not allowing his opponent any time to catch his breath. He dodged another punch from Dean. The man was clearly getting weaker. Andrew landed another jolt across Dean's cheekbone, spraying red droplets from the man's mouth. Dean stumbled back, and Andrew advanced on him. Andrew grasped Dean's shirt again and flung him across the floor, where he came to a stop after crashing into the wall.

  Unfortunately, Dean refused to give up. He scrambled upright and charged Andrew. The former Army captain twisted, grabbed Dean by his back and pitched him downward. In an instant, Andrew had him pinned. He pummeled his fist into the man's face, but could feel himself slipping as exhaustion threatened to overcome him in these last moments. He was about to take notes from Lindsey and finish Dean with a quick broken neck when a voice came over the intercom.

  _____

  "Hey, Dean! If you can hear me, I think I may have an incentive for you!" Samuel said into the black box.

  Lindsey looked between him and the two men below. Andrew had paused, much to her distress. Dean slowly turned his head toward Samuel.

  "What are you doing?" Ana asked, taking the words right out of Lindsey's mouth.

  "Making things more interesting," Samuel said in a conniving tone. "Dean, if you beat Andrew, not only will you get the glorious prize of living, I'll throw in Lindsey for you."

  The blonde focused her shocked gaze on the corrupt man, not wanting to believe what she'd just heard.

  "Y-you can't do that," she stuttered as overwhelming anxiety tore at her insides.

  "I can do whatever I want, honey," he countered with a wink, clearly trying to get back at her for the earlier threat.

  Lindsey locked eyes with Andrew just in time to see Dean pick up a chunk of loose concrete and slam it into the side of Andrew's head. She watched him go down, lying dazed on the floor as blood trickled across his forehead. She let out a heart-wrenching shriek and ran up to the window. Dean struck him again, and she banged her fist against the glass, causing it to splinter.

  "No! Please! Don't do this!" Lindsey screamed. "Andrew, get up!"

  Dean squinted up at her, wiping his bleeding nose on his shirt sleeve. His eyes were compassionless, now void of any warmth her might have held for her before. She knew he would kill Andrew without any regard for her feelings, and the thought terrified her.

  "Stop this, please!" Lindsey begged Samuel.

  He shrugged. "This is just the way it goes—begging won't help."

  Dean struck Andrew again, and Lindsey sobbed, "Please, don't let Andrew die! I'll do anything!"

  At that point, she really would. It didn't matter to her, so long as Andrew was still alive. He was her light, her hope, her everything. He'd saved her more times than she could count. It was up to her to help him now.

  "'Anything'?" Samuel asked. "Live in my quarters and I'll save your precious Andrew."

  Lindsey didn't hesitate. "Okay, I'll do it."

  "Stop the fight," Samuel ordered over the intercom. The two guards below came forth and tore Dean off Andrew.

  "Hey! What the hell? Get off'a me!" he exploded as they pulled him to the far corner of the room. One guard continued to hold him back while Miguel went to check on Andrew, who wasn't moving.

  Linds
ey pressed her hand against the glass and waited as silent tears streamed down her face.

  Please, please…be alive.

  He bent over Andrew and felt for a pulse. After a few moments of excruciating silence, he gave Samuel a thumbs up. Lindsey breathed out a rush of air and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. Miguel shrugged, as if to say, Now what? Samuel signaled outward with his hand, and the guard nodded.

  "Where are you taking him?" Lindsey asked, afraid that Samuel would back out on their deal.

  "To the barracks. We'll get him looked at and cleaned up." He studied her nervous expression, and then said, "Don't worry. You stand by your end of the deal, and I'll honor mine."

  Before Lindsey could begin to process that, Ana spoke up.

  "What about Dean?"

  Samuel looked to the far end of the room below. With a quick motion to his throat, the guard holding Dean lifted his assault rifle and fired a round into the man's forehead.

  Lindsey was startled by the unexpected sound. She wanted to feel some kind of sadness for the loss of life, but remained unmoved. Dean would have tried to kill Andrew, with or without Samuel's influence. Deep down, she knew she should have shot him that day at the ranch. At least, now, she wouldn't have his death on her conscience.

  "This is what you wanted, right?" Samuel asked her as the guard left Dean's body to help Miguel lift Andrew. They each wound one of his limp arms around their shoulders and carried him out of the room.

  Lindsey stared at her feet. This was what she had wanted. She dared a guilty glance in Samuel's direction, and he smiled.

  "And I got what I wanted." He took a step toward her, sliding his fingers down the side of her arm. She shuddered and felt her skin crawl.

  "Lindsey, you can't be with him!" Zoey said. "What about my dad?"

  Lindsey attempted to give Zoey a reassuring smile. "It's okay. Just go to the barracks. I know your dad will want to see you." Her insides twisted painfully at the confused look on Zoey's face.

  Lindsey's head pounded and she closed her eyes on a wave of agony. Samuel noticed her discomfort and began to guide her from the room.

  "This won't do. I'll get you to Claire. She'll take care of you."

  Now that Isaac wasn't responsible for Lindsey any longer, he called out to Samuel, "What about the others?"

  Samuel looked over his shoulder at the three remaining survivors. "Take them to the barracks. We're done for today."

  _____

  Lindsey sat before Claire in Samuel's living quarters. The man had been right about one thing—this part of the factory was quite extravagant. So much so that she wouldn't have even known they were in a factory if she hadn't seen outside of this room. Individual twin-size beds lined two of the white walls, each one decorated differently than the others beside it. It was as if each girl could express her personality within that single space. It reminded Lindsey of what she'd heard about the Playboy Mansion. Claire had teal-colored, silk bedsheets, poetry books on the nightstand, and a print of Starry Night above her headboard. Lindsey thought it was a classy choice of decor, especially when situated next to a bright-pink bed accented with furry pillows.

  Claire pulled Lindsey's attention away by touching the bruise on her cheek. She flinched.

  "What happened to you?" the woman asked. With jet-black locks and almond-shaped eyes, Lindsey thought she was stunning.

  "I had to fight another woman. I, um..." Lindsey stopped, unable to say the words aloud.

  "I know," Claire whispered, "but why are you here? If you won, you should be in the barracks."

  Lindsey sighed, thinking of Andrew, missing him. "The man I'm with…Andrew. He wasn't going to survive, so I made a deal with Samuel."

  "I'm kind of surprised. Sam doesn't usually stray from the rules." She scowled at the bruises on Lindsey's neck, and applied an alcohol-dipped cotton ball to the scratches.

  Lindsey looked around the room and settled her gaze on Claire. "How could you choose this?" she asked quietly.

  Claire didn't look up from her task. "Don't be so quick to judge. Not all of us have men like Andrew in our lives." She got another cotton ball and hesitated before dabbing at Lindsey's neck again. "My camp got overrun. I was the only one who made it out. Sam's crew picked me up the next day. When faced with those two choices, it wasn't a tough decision. I had no one to lose, and I wasn't about to take another life. Sam may be," Claire cleared her throat, "eccentric, but he's done all right by me. He's not abusive—he takes care of us."

  That's debatable, Lindsey thought with revulsion. "Where is he right now?"

  The woman glanced at Samuel's bedroom door. "He's with Tia tonight. He told me you need to rest. You've got a mild concussion and some nasty bruises. Maybe I can put some makeup on them… He doesn't like marks on us."

  Lindsey thought about that statement. The man was crazy with all of his rules and ridiculous quirks. It only made her more fearful of tomorrow.

  "How do you know about this stuff?" Lindsey asked, changing the subject.

  "I was a nurse at a family medicine in Farmington. Comes in pretty handy now," Claire answered with a smile. She offered Lindsey some ibuprofen and noticed the blonde's swollen pinky finger. "That looks like it hurts. Can you move it?"

  Lindsey nodded. "It was dislocated. One of my group members set it for me. It still hurts, but not as bad as it did."

  "I'll splint it for you." Claire dug through her medical box, extracting a metal and foam splint. After positioning it around Lindsey's finger and taping it in place, she closed the box. "Let me show you which bed will be yours."

  _____

  Andrew slowly opened his eyes, attempting to overcome the sickening ache in his head. He groaned and lifted a hand to his forehead. After wincing from the lightest touch, he moved his hand and saw Zoey's face hovering over him.

  "Dad?" the girl whispered, hope flickering in her blue eyes.

  Andrew struggled to sit up, fighting dizziness the whole way. Zoey wrapped her arms around him, and he returned the hug.

  "I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered. When he pulled back, he locked eyes with Charlie, then Ana. He looked around the room. Rows and rows of cots spread in both directions, but Lindsey was nowhere to be found. "Where's Lindsey?"

  The three people before him exchanged uneasy glances.

  "She's okay. I mean, she's…alive," Zoey began.

  A tortured expression crossed over Andrew's face and he looked to Charlie to say what his daughter couldn't.

  "Do you remember what happened to you?" Ana asked him instead.

  "I remember fighting Dean, and I was about to finish him, but…" His head spun, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "The rest is unclear."

  The woman spoke again. "Samuel takes women to live with him, exclusively. He offered Lindsey and me the opportunity, but we chose to fight instead. When Samuel distracted you during yours, Dean hit you over the head with a piece of concrete—that's why it hurts so much. He was going to kill you, Andrew…"

  Slowly, the pieces were coming together. Andrew frowned. "What did she do?"

  Charlie answered now. "She made a deal with Samuel: she'd be with him, if he'd spare you."

  Andrew launched off the cot and grabbed Charlie by his shirt. The man put his hands up, not returning the aggression.

  "Why didn't you stop her?" Andrew fumed.

  Charlie shook his head. "She's a stubborn woman, Andy. She made up her mind—there was no changin' it. She did it to save you."

  Andrew's anger bubbled over and he slammed his fist into Charlie's face. A flash of pain surged through his hand and he glimpsed down at the bandage that covered it. Charlie remained upright, but made no move to fight back. Maybe he blamed himself, or maybe he simply knew that Andrew needed to get it out of his system. Either way, Andrew quickly realized what he'd done.

  "I- I'm sorry," he muttered, falling back onto the cot.

  Charlie shrugged it off. "I get it, man. I should'a done somethin'." He watched Andrew rub his injure
d hand. "The question is: will you?"

  Suddenly, Andrew was aware of the fading daylight through the window. "How long was I unconscious?"

  "Almost a whole day," Ana responded with worried eyes.

  Andrew's head snapped up. "Where can I find Lindsey?"

  "We asked around. Samuel has his living quarters on the second level. There's a guard posted outside the door…" Ana explained as Andrew jumped up and ran out of the barracks.

  _____

  Lindsey stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror in Samuel's bathroom. A few minutes before, he'd directed for her to put on the outfit hanging by the sink, and closed her in the small room. Now wearing said outfit, she was overwhelmed with nausea. Covered by only a lacy red bra, matching panties, and black stockings, she felt downright cheap. Things weren't supposed to go this far. Where was Charlie or Ana? Where was Andrew?

  She took shallow, panicked breaths as she sat on the edge of the tub. Lindsey buried her face in her hands and tried not to cry.

  Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit!

  She'd managed to escape horrible situations before, but if the others didn't come to help her soon, she didn't see how she could get out of this one. She'd never be able to look at herself again if she went through with this—and how would Andrew look at her? At that thought, tears of devastation fell onto her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away. Claire had covered her bruises and she didn't want to mess anything up.

  With a reluctant sigh, Lindsey stood and stepped into her shiny high-heels. Avoiding her reflection this time, she reached for the door.

  This was going to bad…really fucking bad.

  _____

  Andrew raced down the hallway and up the stairs. He made it to the door, but was blocked by Isaac.

  "What do you think you're doing?" the man inquired with hostility.

  Andrew began to push past him. "I need to talk to Samuel, right now!"

  Isaac tried to stop him, but Andrew overpowered the man with a single left-handed blow, and pushed open the door. Various women were scattered about the room. Some looked at Andrew with interest, some appeared scared.