by Arthur Stone
“Shut up, dumbass. Why the hell am I so unlucky, always running into zeroes, and dumb zeroes at that. Shit, shit, shit! Alright, let’s try this from the start. Call up the menu. Just say it out loud. ‘Menu.’”
“I know.”
“Oh hey, we’ve got progress! I guess you’re not a total moron,” the remarkably brash lady spat out, along with a bit of blood and teeth lost in her struggle with the wooden gag. “Do you know how to arrange the menu? Like, how to move things around?”
“Huh?”
“So much for that. Get our moron didn’t get any farther than the basics. Call up the menu and say ‘chat.’ Then move the chat window down, into either corner, and you’ll see a blinking chat window that says ‘Kitty – Zero.’ Zero is you, of course, and Kitty is me. Nice to meet you. Just kidding. I could do without another dumbass in my time here. So get rid of everything else, but leave that chat up. Then you can read what I write. And type your own thoughts and send them back. It’s basic. Very basic. Perfect for a basic bro like you. Well, come on. Open the chat up!”
Rock sighed indifferently. “If you need it so much, you open it.”
Agitated to the breaking point, the bag of human garbage grew so insolent that Rock found himself daydreaming of knocking out the rest of her teeth. That was surprising. Normally, he took a no-tolerance position against any violence towards women.
“Why the hell am I always stuck with the dumb ones?” Kitty said, almost howling, accompanied with blood and even a few coughs. “You really do want to die, don’t you?”
“I’ll live and die when I want without your permission. Go find yourself another moron, since it seems you like them so much.”
“You should’ve just told me you were an idiot who cared nothing for the chat box and even less for your paltry life.” Kitty was still choking on her own blood and clenching her teeth that remained. “Well, fuck you. You’re an illiterate idiot. But we have to get out of here, whether we use the chat window or not. You can’t go forward, but those idiots forgot that you can move back along that board. See that disc? The round saw just a short space away from the board you’re on? See if you can get to it.”
“You think you’re so clever.”
“Like you thought of the same plan.”
“Look, my unwashed spring chicken, it just so happens that I have. I can see better from down here, and my brain’s bigger than yours, whatever delusion you may be under to the contrary. No matter how much I twist, I obviously can’t reach the saw with either of my plastic ties. No sense making me laugh at how dumb you are.”
“Fool. Who said anything about your zip ties? Saw your arm. You should be able to reach it with your wrist.”
“What!”
“Saw your hand off. And it’s much easier to cut a limb off at the joint. Try to reach it with your wrist. It’s harder to saw your elbow or forearm. Then you’ll be free in a couple of minutes, and—”
Rock cut her off. “Screw off, you pervert. Sheesh. Saw your head off, why don’t you? Not doing you any good, anyway.”
“Goddammit. Hurry it up. That’ll give us a chance, at least! Listen, you have to do what I say. Now!”
Rock was tired of replying.
“Well, it’s too late now,” said Kitty as she went limp. “They’ve heard us. You were too loud, you poor fool.”
“Me? What about you?”
“Well, if you had just used the chat window like I said, they wouldn’t have heard us, but now...”
“What now?”
“Well. They’ll probably kill you. They’ll violate me first, before they kill me. This is all entertainment for these assholes.”
“What!?” Rock had a hard time concealing his happiness at the news. “I guess at least somebody around here knows how to have a good time. Best news I’ve heard all day. So you’re about to get a good screwing, and you won’t even have to pay for it? Man, those guys have it figured out! You know, I’d happily die a few times to see that, and then shake the hand of the hero who planned it all. Hell, I’d ask him for his autograph. That’s one seriously brave dude. I’d rather go out with a bag of shit than with you, to be honest. Oh, hey, there are two lovely bags right here. Imagine that.”
For the third time in their short conversation, Kitty noticeably changed her tone. She shook her head in exhaustion and said, with an almost pleasant timbre, “Poor fool. You’re not just stupid. You’re blind, too.”
Chapter 11
Life Four: Confrontation
Rock did not particularly like the area next to their improvised prison. Not because of the breathtaking lack of beautiful women that he had also witnessed inside the prison. No, his revulsion was thanks to the behavior of the degenerates dragging him out. There were four of the freaks in total, one pair for each prisoner, and as they dragged them along they cared nothing for their comfort. To the contrary, they ensured plenty of kicks and punches to the teeth were granted their wards.
They showed all of this attention to Rock, ignoring Kitty even though the quarrelsome girl had greeted them with her typical moniker assignment, calling them “morons” and “fools” in her voice, which was unexpectedly thin for someone whose frame was so not thin. She apparently tried to escalate the situation, calling them “dimwits” and “dumbasses” and raising suspicions about their performance in the bedroom. Rock wouldn’t have let offenses like that pass, but these guys didn’t even lift a finger against her.
Damn gentlemen.
A fifth was outside, the same kind of miserable bastard as all the rest, dressed in the same camo-and-rough-leather military style. And armed, of course. There were other people around, too. Rock saw the same armored car who had greeted him so coldly, moving piles of wood around slowly and with surprisingly little noise. When it broke out of the tricky maneuvering, though, it roared in joy, a few seconds later disappearing into a thick, bushy forest. The narrow road that pushed into it could hardly even be called a trail. More like a wild boar path.
The forest had a stretch cleared of vegetation on all sides of the lumberyard, but it wasn’t very wide. Maybe an acre of cleared land in total. Rock, based on his minuscule experience, considered the place dangerous. Zombies and the beasts they grew into could creep up unnoticed. No good. The locals apparently thought the same and were making no moves to settle in here. They must have just been swinging by this woodworking warehouse for some special purpose Rock did not know and were planning to leave soon.
Each of their captors would be serious opponents. They were strong, to varying degrees, with clothing selected for survival. These were no guns up for hire for beer tabs. He doubted they were here just to poke him around. Even when his filthy female friend was added to the situation, it didn’t make sense. They weren’t enough of a threat for a team this big; something else was going on.
But why should he worry about these things as he was being dragged past piles of lumber, getting his ribs jabbed and kicked every few seconds? Because, as always, information was what he needed most.
One man looked stronger than all the others. He was sitting on a stack of boards. The man was short and battle-scarred and had no serious weapons on him, just a holstered pistol and a knife in his unbuckled vest. Even then, he looked more dangerous than the rest. His face was cold, an expression of hatred for everything living and dead frozen onto it. His eyes were hidden behind his narrow, odd-looking sunglasses, and he sported a black bandana.
Rock knew at a glance that this was the leader of these dogs. He would be the one to decide who would be shot in cold blood and who would get to rape whom. Too bad I can’t see under those glasses. Maybe then he could get some insight into the man. He fervently hoped that Kitty’s predictions were all wrong.
Or at least that the half of them concerning him were wrong.
He remembered to give the man a closer look.
Object: immune. Humanity: high negative. Unidentified. Weapon: CP-1 pistol, knife. No Continental skills detected.
Rock
had never heard of a pistol with that designation, but the unknown person who had written these descriptions apparently had decided that his single amateur’s glance was enough to immediately identify it.
“Stop that!” said one of the dogs, yanking Rock’s shoulder. “Freeze, arms at your sides, or I’ll break both of them.”
His threat uttered to his satisfaction, the lesser dog stepped back, turned, and held his gun at the ready, aimed at the prisoners. All of that despite the fact that the others did not bother to touch their weapons. Two had moved away and were watching the area silently, their backs up against piles of wood, relaxed. One stayed behind Kitty, holding the oversized piglet’s hands tightly, as if she were a miraculous, unparalleled beauty.
The boss was silent for a few seconds. Then, he slowly took out a crumpled pack from his vest, took out a smoke, placed it in his mouth, and then decided to play a sad magic track for his audience, lighting his cigarette with a flame from his index finger. He released a stream of smoke that seemed suffocating to Rock, even at five whole paces away, and asked indifferently, “What is this doing here?”
The dog who was holding Rock’s nerves on edge with his gun replied nonchalantly. “Globes, this zero bumped into Hassan when he was out. A raffler was on him. As they passed by they gutted it and picked him up. He looks strong. Took a rifle butt to the head but isn’t complaining much.”
“Easier to live in this world when you have no brains. But why do we need him?”
“What should we do with him? Drive him out? He’s healthy and built. Put him to work on the farm.”
“And who’s going to take him there? Me? What the hell do I need that for? Traveling is dangerous, and I don’t like the way this guy’s looking at me. There’s something cunning about it, and those types cause nothing but problems. I don’t like problems.”
There was a lot of the conversation that Rock didn’t understand, but he knew it wasn’t going his way. They were talking about him like a couple of fighting housewives making culinary plans for a frozen chicken carcass. Another sign that he was a nobody here. That they no intention of being reasoned with. That all the phrases he had at the ready were pointless.
No one sane talks with frozen meat products.
And Globes was already tired of discussing Rock’s fate. He rose and approached Kitty. Daylight hardly beautified the shapeless stumpy woman’s sad appearance, but it did reveal some unexpected details. The unpleasant and frankly unnatural bulk of her torso had a simple explanation. She was clothed in an odd poofy garment covered in patches and with straw and even leafy twigs sticking out of it. This was probably just what it looked like: a bunch of rags with tons of ugly, stick-filled mud dried up on them. Perhaps it was camouflage, but Rock couldn’t be sure. He didn’t remember, of course, but he had the impression that he had seen similar things before being worn by hunters and soldiers. Usually they were less intricate, though. But that had to be it. What other use could something like that have?
So Kitty wasn’t at fat as he had thought. Her face made more sense now, too. It was stained too artificially, with a pattern that looked intentional, painted on with an impossibly black pigment and patches of dirt. If he could only wash her down with a hose, sew up her ugly laceration running from her temple to her chin, and comb out the wool on her head—more tangled than the most ill-treated strands of Christmas lights—at least then she wouldn’t scare the children anymore. She’d be your standard graying, boring, middle-aged woman, like millions of others.
Unlike Rock, Kitty was not allowed to stand on her own. One of the dogs was holding her hands wrenched behind her. Why were they afraid of this smelly bitch and leaving him basically free? It was a little offensive, to be honest. Her wrists were also still bound by zip ties, so she couldn’t cause any serious mischief, but they were unwilling to give her even the freedom that allowed.
But only the edge of Rock’s consciousness was thinking this, as he was focused on his primary task of trying to follow Kitty’s unintelligible instructions to customize the menu. He strongly suspected that there were no bright prospects for his future, and that only one person in the world could fix that, or at least clarify a part of what was happening.
Perhaps Rock shouldn’t have prodded and mocked the girl. He should have overlooked her quirks instead of wasting time. But he doubted there was any time to make up for that now.
Globes, meanwhile, was breathing into her frowning face with his repugnant smokebreath. He spit juicily at her feet and said in a demented fashion, “Kitty, my dear, your face is filthy. You didn’t know, did you, child? No worry. We can spare some water for a beauty like you. And if you behave yourself, it won’t even be cold water.” The thug’s voice grew more threatening with each word. “Are you going to behave, or do we have to start breaking you here and now? Well? Nothing to say? Shy? Right, how could I have forgotten? You really are shy. You’re the last Continental virgin we have here! Sorry, my dear. I’m really out of it right now.”
Kitty broke her silence then. “You’re right. You were the second to last.”
Her words amused the lesser animals in the pack. They started neighing like a herd of horses in heat.
Globes did not neigh. His visage darkened, and with incredible speed he struck the girl, spraying blood from her already wounded mouth. Rock winced as it splashed on his shoulder. The prisoner nearly fell backwards from the blow; only the thug behind her kept her standing.
The flash of anger vanished immediately. With the same measured tone, Globes continued. “Please forgive me. I’m a little more anxious than usual today. You see, Kitty, your tone towards me is irrelevant. It’s the effect you have on my men that worries me. You shouldn’t have done what you did, crawling into that collector. All it did was turn you into some kind of filthy scarecrow. Romeo’s on this way, darling, and how can I present him with something so appalling? Didn’t you think about that?”
“So why the hell did you come after me at all?” Kitty had apparently learned her lesson from the slap. Her answer was not as harsh, though it was certainly still unfriendly.
Her voice was steadier than before, too. Didn’t seem as drunk. She must be having physical speech problems, what with the gag, her lost teeth, and the wound that cut across her lips. When she talked, it appeared that half of her mouth wasn’t working at all. There may have been other factors. Her sounds were so distorted.
Rock has been wrong in his assessment of this woman. Nothing about her was as obvious as it had seemed at first. Globes was right, though—she could use a bath. No one would dispute him on that point.
He continued, with the tone of a man who had just won a great victory. “You know, Romeo yearns to see you. Really. And when Romeo wants something, he pays a lot of money for it. And he wants you so much. You understand, I’m sure? No. You can’t imagine how much we’re talking. One hour ago we radioed him, and now he’s rushing here as fast as he can. Your sweetheart is wildly impatient, running, biting at the bit, calling out your name. Don’t you want to give him something in return? The guys have gone out to meet him. Maybe I can send them a message to give to him. Well?”
“Tell them to lose his corpse somewhere along the way.”
“Ah, Kitty, you’re a good girl, but you have too much venom! A girl like you just can’t be taught, I suppose. But that’s not my business. It’s Romeo’s. He’s a specialist in the arts of love, and he’ll sand those rough edges down. So be ready, Romeo—she might be a challenge even for you! By the way, he asked me to tell you that his love for you will be just like that movie 9 1/2 Weeks. Just as much diverse erotica. And just as long. Sounds like a solid romance!”
“Tell him the relationship will be more like Home Alone, OK?” replied Kitty without a moment’s hesitation.
Everyone liked that. Even Globes laughed along with his minions. The laughter was genuine, without any malice, since he wasn’t the one being insulted by his captive’s joke.
“You’re witty. Sharp tongue,”
he said with approval. “I like that. Too bad Romeo views his relationship with you as a matter of principle. And he never bends his principles. If things were otherwise, I’d hit you myself. Actually... Listen, darling, his 9 1/2 Weeks won’t last your whole life, you know. Maybe you and I could, you know, hang out afterwards? Whew, look at those eyes! If I was a haystack I’d catch fire! You should be nicer to people, Kitty. Especially people like me. We’re the type you want to be friends with. And a woman’s friendship includes affection as a matter of course. You know that, right? Well? Love to hear your perspective on this one, Darling. So will we be friends?”
“Look, if Romeo doesn’t like Home Alone, you can feel free to watch it after him. You might not mind it so much.”
“Wasn’t funny that time, Kitty. A good joke is precisely that because it’s unique. Repeating it ruins it.”
But Kitty was too busy with another occupation to be inventing new witty jokes. Rock, after mentally cursing the chat control system a hundred times, had finally figured it out and found the right one, and even placed it in a relatively convenient spot that didn’t interfere with his vision.
He ignored the old messages from the girl, hastily figured out how to input sentences, and managed to type out a short message.
“Let’s stop yelling at each other for now, OK? We have to figure out some way to handle these monsters. Any ideas?”
The answer came back immediately. Rock was shocked—it would have taken him at least a minute to type it out on the virtual keyboard.
“Don’t you remember what I told you? They don’t need you. You’re a beginner. You’re not even worth them dragging you off to their farm. They’ll just kill you. If you want to survive, you have to take a risk. First get your hands free. And for the love of the creators, don’t forget to watch this chat window! Click the little bell at the edge of it so that it turns green. Then it will jingle whenever you get a message. Only you can hear the jingles, of course.”
