by Joseph Zuko
Paul nodded at the group. “That is exactly what we are doing here today. Protecting each other in this unprecedented crisis. That’s all we can do. God once flooded the world to reset the stage. Have you ever thought, perhaps that is what is happening here?”
His words hung heavy in the military vehicle. The group contemplated this current information.
Before another question could be asked, Lisa pointed out the front window and said, “There’s the bus.”
Paul leaned to the center of the Hummer and followed where Lisa was pointing. A mile down the road sat the rig. Its body was at an angle and the rear tire dipped into the ditch. As they approached they noticed a thick layer of gore splattered across the front cowcatcher and windshield. From a distance, the red splashed around the frontend looked like a classic muscle car with a flame paintjob.
They entered the intersection with the bus and came to a stop.
Alayna crawled through the turret and readied the Browning.
Paul opened his door and stepped into the spring sun. He kept his assault rifle tucked to his shoulder as he moved for the bus. The busted side door grabbed his attention right away.
Paul grunted, “She’s not here.”
Out in the distance he heard tires screeching across the asphalt. A vehicle was heading their way in a hurry.
Lisa rolled down her window and asked, “What is it?”
“I think we’re about to have company.” Paul thumbed off his safety. “Stay sharp. Wait for my mark before you fire.”
Cooper jumped from the Hummer and joined Paul in the center of the street.
A van came into view.
Cooper pulled his rifle to his shoulder, “It looks like they’re doing a hundred. Why the heck are they in such a hurry?”
Paul wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead before it fell into his eye. “Something has them spooked. Let’s take cover.” He reopened his door and hid behind the reinforced metal. Cooper followed his example, opened Lisa’s door, and tucked himself behind the barrier.
The van skidded to a stop and a panicked woman jumped from the side door. She had bruised cheeks, a black eye, swollen lips, and she looked like she had been crying for days.
Some piece of crap knocked this pitiful thing around. Thought Paul.
She kept her hands high in the air as she approached the Hummer. Her nose was runny, nostrils ringed in red.
She spit her words in a flurry. “You’ve got to help us. Our children are trapped in a house down the road. Its overrun with those things. Please, you’ve got to come help us.”
The first thought that came to Paul was…
…this is a trap.
But if it was a con, then this woman was giving the most convincing performance Paul had ever seen. It was possible she was a dedicated and powerful deceiver, but most likely, her children really were surrounded by a swarm of those monsters and she was losing her mind with fear.
Paul spoke to his people first. “Everyone, stay calm.” He stepped around his door and headed for her. Two adult males occupied the front seat of the van. Their faces also looked like they had gone ten rounds with the heavyweight champ.
Brother Paul stopped in his tracks. A man climbed from the van, his movements slow and cautious. He was covered in blood and bandages, but Paul recognized him right away.
Paul lowered his tone and grumbled. “Jim Blackmore.”
Chapter 13
Sara wanted blood. She grabbed her spear, towered over Ryder and held the knife to his neck. She wanted to peel him apart slowly and feed the bastard his own chunks. Sara reveled in the idea of taking her time. Making Ryder’s last moments on Earth as painful as possible.
Ryder lay motionless on a stack of dead bodies. His chest raised and fell as he slept.
On the workbench next to her was an old mirror. She saw a monster in the reflection. Sara realized it was her. She was soaking wet with gore and looked insane.
She couldn’t identify with the person staring back at her.
That’s not me!
I’m an easy-going college student that works part time at a coffee kiosk.
I live with my parents and love to watch the movie ,Halloween, every year on Halloween.
I’ve never hurt anyone in my entire life! Well, she had never caused a single person pain until yesterday when she fixed Jim’s broken nose, then stitched his two cuts. But he asked her to fix the wounds, so that didn’t count.
Ryder was the only one to drive Sara to such extremes. He had it coming at the Hockinson Market when she kneed him in the balls and hit him with the fire extinguisher. He deserved to be punished, but she couldn’t bring herself to be the one to do it. Not while he was knocked out anyways.
She wanted him alert and restrained. Then she could unleash hell.
An overwhelming desire to go home and crawl into bed hit her hard.
Home was in the center of Portland, but it might as well have been on Mars. There was no way she could ever get back there.
She whispered to herself, “I’ve got to find my way to Troy and the others.”
Sara pulled the knife from Ryder’s neck. “He knows which way to go.” Her rage faded once she remembered she was lost.
Sara searched the officer’s utility belt. Unfortunately, the cop had used all her ammo and lost the pistol, but Sara found handcuffs and zip ties.
She picked up the taser and gave Ryder another zap. His body convulsed.
The layer of slick goo on his body made dragging Ryder from the garage to the closest bathroom a tiny bit easier.
Sara pulled his body next to the toilet and handcuffed him to the throne.
The bathroom was small and the pipes to the sink were exposed. She used the zip ties to string up his ankles to the metal tubing. Last she placed a length of duct tape across his mouth, in case he woke up as she searched the house. She didn’t want him to scream and attract zombies.
Sara opened a window to let some fresh air into the bathroom. She peered through the gap and investigated the side yard of the house. It was clear. No infected in sight.
She stepped out of the bathtub that sat below the window and headed for the door. She paused at the entry and looked back at her prisoner.
Sara smirked, “I didn’t know a taser would make someone sleep for so long.” Then she remembered he had been knocked unconscious twice today. Perhaps that had something to do with his midday slumber. Either way she was happy to have a moment of peace.
Sara worked quietly and searched the house. First on the list was ammo or another gun. She found neither. Second was a decent change of clothes. She was sick of her disgusting garments. Sara tugged at the dresser drawers and searched through the socks and underwear. Framed photos sat on top of the furniture. A married couple in their mid-thirties happily clung to each other. The guy reminded her of Troy. She couldn’t wait to get back to him and climb up into his thick arms and broad chest. Her fingertips hit something at the bottom of the drawer. She lifted it from the folded cotton. It was a new hunting knife and sheath.
Score! Sara thought to herself as she grabbed a fresh bra and panties, too.
In the master bedroom, she found the lady of the house’s wardrobe to be very outdoor sportswoman themed. Camouflage, Carhartt and Levi’s filled the racks.
“The woman does live in Battle Ground,” said Sara as she yanked a few items from their hangers. A backpack sat on the closet floor. She stuffed the clothes into the bag and headed back to the garage. On her way out of the bedroom something on the nightstand caught her eye.
“I haven’t seen one of those in a long time.” She picked up the device and placed it in the bag.
She headed for the garage. There wasn’t much left other than tools. The couple must have taken all the good stuff and hit the road.
She did manage to find an old battery-operated lantern and her Berettas.
Sara raided the kitchen next, loaded a few bottles with water and tossed them in the pack. She found a box of pro
tein bars in the pantry. They were going to be a challenge to eat since Ryder decked her in the face and her jaw was killing her, but she took them anyway.
She carried everything back to the bathroom. She leaned her spear in one corner of the room and set everything else on the counter. She turned on the lantern and the dark room filled with light.
Ryder was right where she left him. He snored softly through his broken nose. When she secured him to the pipes, she made damn sure the cuffs and zip ties were tight as hell. Circulation was getting cut off to his limbs. It gave her a surge of joy when she thought about how angry he was going to be when he woke up to discover his hands and feet were asleep. Even though it hurt her jaw, she managed a smile.
Sara stared at her reflection. She was still unrecognizable. Her hair was matted to the side of her skull and she was covered in slop. The black blood and gore hid her alabaster skin. Every inch of her outfit was doused in zombie juice. Her face was misshapen and swollen from Ryder’s punch.
She ran the faucet. The water was warm, but never got hot. She worked the mess from her hands and arms. Then she cleaned her face and hair.
On the counter next to the lantern were the Berettas. They were empty and useless for the moment but held some sentimental value. She planned to clean them and the harness when she was done with herself.
Ryder groaned from the floor.
She toweled her face and hair as she checked on him.
“I’m not looking forward to waking your ass up, but I need to know how to get back,” said Sara as she rung her red hair out in the towel.
With the blood removed from her face she could finally see the bruise forming on her cheek.
Sara stepped out of the room and undressed in the hallway. Her old clothes fell to the linoleum with a wet thud. She wiped the rest of her body with the damp towel. Two bruises were growing dark purple on her ribs and stomach. One was the size of Ryder’s boot. The other was shaped like his fist.
Sara toweled her body dry and slid into the undergarments. She couldn’t believe she was about to wear some stranger’s underwear, but she was long overdue for a new pair. She pulled the jeans to her waist. Everything was a few sizes too big. She worked the knife and its sheath onto her belt. Then fed the leather through the Levi’s loops. After she cinched her belt tight, everything fit fine. She put on a t-shirt that was a smidge baggy. Sara wasn’t trying to impress anyone and any clean clothes were better than what she’d been wearing.
She slipped on her boots and reentered the bathroom. The stink of the man hit her first. When combined, body odor and zombie guts made for a stinky cologne. Sara filled a glass with water and tossed it in Ryder’s face.
The blast of cold woke the sleeping giant. He blinked away the droplets, tried to move, but the restraints kept him in place. He raged and thrashed. He cursed through his gag. Eyes bulged. Veins popped. It took Ryder a few seconds, then reality set in. He realized he was in big trouble. His expression changed from enraged bull to scared puppy. He tried talking through his gag. Sara couldn’t make out a word.
Her face remained blank as she picked up the shoulder harness with a towel and used it to clean the leather. “This belonged to a friend of mine.” She rubbed the straps thoroughly. “He was killed today.” When Sara was satisfied with her job she slid her arms through the harness loops and strapped it to her torso. “You know what happened to the guy that did it?”
Ryder shook his head.
“Our group killed him.” Sara lifted one of the guns and got to work wiping the blood from the steel surface. “The guy was a real asshole. He kind of reminds me of you.” Sara released the slide on the gun and kept cleaning. “I mean the guy we killed was an asshole, not my friend.” Her nerves were getting to her.
She turned away from him. “How are your hands and feet? Can you feel them or are they asleep?” She put the clean gun into its holster and snagged the second one from the counter.
Ryder squinted his eyes.
“I’ve got to tell ya. I really love that gag.” Sara released the slide on the gun. “You’re probably wondering, ‘Why am I still alive’?” She removed the last bit of blood and put the gun in its harness.
He grunted.
She moved closer and squatted next to him. “I have no idea how far away we are from Desiree’s house or which direction to go and I was hoping you’d tell me.”
He moaned.
“I realize you might lie to me, but then I remember how you said you didn’t want to die. So here is my offer.” She reached for the tape on his face. “You tell me which way to go. If you tell me the truth, I’ll find my people. Then we’ll come back here and set you free. If I don’t find my people, you stay here. It could be days before a zombie stumbles its way inside here and decides to end you. What do you say?”
Sara peeled the tape from his lips but left it hanging on his cheek.
“Here’s my offer.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you suck my dick. Then I’ll tell you how to find your friends.” His crooked grin went ear to ear. “Here’s the truth, Red. You won’t survive on your own out there. You need me to protect you. So, quit this tough girl act and let me go. Before something nasty takes a bite out of your fine body.”
She forced the tape back across his lips. “I’ll be right back.” Sara stepped from the bathroom.
In her absence Ryder thrashed against the porcelain and pipes. The bitch was right, his hands and feet were asleep. When he yanked at them the pain was intense and forced him to stop after a few seconds. He wasn’t going anywhere.
It dawned on him, he had completely misread this woman. Her slight physique had made him think she was mousey. Yet, she had proved him wrong at every turn.
She had bested him and now he was at her mercy.
Fear crept into his heart.
Where was she going? Ryder freaked.
She left her spear and she said she was coming back.
What’s she going to do to me? Ryder replayed his counteroffer.
Shit!
I shouldn’t have told her off. This bitch is psycho.
Sara reentered the bathroom with a set of yellow rubber dishwashing gloves and tugged them to her forearm.
“I just got clean and don’t want to touch your filth.” She moved to his side and reached for his belt buckle. She unlatched it, unsnapped the button on his jeans and unzipped the fly.
No way is she about to do what I said!
Before he could get remotely into the scene she said, “Don’t get your hopes up. Trust me you’re gonna hate this.”
She dug her fingers into the waist band of his jeans and underwear.
“Let’s see this thing you’re so proud of.” She ripped his pants and underwear to his knees.
Ryder was flooded with shame.
She was right. He did hate this.
With the back of her forearm she covered her mouth in disgust.
“How did you run after me? Those things are crazy swollen. They look like water balloons about to pop. They’re so dark. You should see a doctor.” Sara snapped off a rubber glove and extracted the hunting knife from her hip. “You want my medical opinion?”
He shook his head and mumbled through the gag.
“We have to amputate.”
Ryder violently shook his head.
This bitch is bluffing, He desperately tried to convince himself.
She held the knife above his privates. “The way your thighs are mashed together and hiding some of the injured areas, will make the surgery a challenge, but luckily this blade is insanely sharp. I should be able to cut around any extra tissue in the way. You want to see how sharp this thing is?”
He shook his head and tried to angle his body away from her, but there was nowhere to go.
“Sure, you do. Here, see for yourself.” She poked the tip of the blade into the fleshy end of his man stick.
She’s not bluffing! The searing pain was like someone holding a flamethrower to his crotch. Ryder couldn’t
breathe. His body went into a full flop sweat.
She slapped the flat side of the blade against his enlarged balls a few times as she said, “When I’m done cutting. Hey, are you listening to me?” She slapped him again.
Intense aching throbbed through his stomach.
Sara reached out with her gloved hand and cracked him in the face. Then grabbed him by his broken nose and shook his head. The cartilage crunched. Ryder was close to passing out from the sheer agony.
She released his nose and said, “Are you listening? I was saying when I’m done cutting off these things I’m gonna ask you where my friends are if you still don’t tell me then I’m cutting the dick. I know, the dick doesn’t work without the balls, but it’s more… I don’t know… a psychological warfare thing if I do it this way.”
Ryder couldn’t stop the tears. This was not the way he saw his day going. He let his anger get the better of him and now he was about to lose the only thing he cared about. This woman was beyond anything he had ever experienced.
Sara couldn’t believe she had gone this far. She only planned on waving the knife around. Here she was with his pants down and blood dripping from his little head. Now that she was in full on torture mode Sara couldn’t stop.
She pointed the bloody tip of the blade at Ryder’s face and said, “I’m not this kind of person. You drove me to this. I didn’t ask you to insult, kidnap and threaten to rape me. Everything that happens to you is your fault.”
She put the razor-sharp edge of the knife next to his scrotum. “Here we go!”
Ryder huffed garbled words through his gag.
“What? I don’t understand. Let me finish cutting this off then you can talk.” She pushed the meat of his thigh out of the way and drove the knife all the way to where the scrotum attached to the body.
He screamed louder through the gag.
“What? I can’t concentrate on what I’m doing. Tell me what you want.” She ripped the tape from his face.
