Red Eye | Season 3 | Episode 2

by Riley, Claire C.

  Before I knew it, we were in front of a building I didn’t recognize. Barrett knocked sharply and seconds later a woman opened the door. She was tall and thin, with shoulder-length brown hair. A crop of freckles spread outward from her nose. They gave her a frail, innocent appearance.

  “Sandy, get me underwear.” Barrett barked the command and the girl’s eyes went wide.

  “Sure, Barrett. Just give me a second.” She glanced at me as if sizing me up and then disappeared into the belly of the building. With the door open, I could see a sofa and chairs. The interior was decorated nicely, almost a waiting area…for something. Through another doorway, I saw a table heavy with snacks and drinks.

  “What is this place?” I murmured quietly, Barrett’s grip on my wrist beginning to ache. “And can you let go of my arm?”

  He released me, eyes still focused through the doorway waiting on the woman he’d called Sandy. “Nathan’s place.”

  “Oh…” I let my voice trail off. “So she’s a…” I didn’t finish the question.

  “I’m a whore,” the woman came back, and though her words were ugly, her voice and expression were not. She handed me a pair of white lace panties. “They’re just one more layer of see-through, I’m afraid, but they’re something.”

  I smiled, gratefully taking them. “Anything helps.” Awkwardly, I moved away from the building to lean against it and thread the clunky combat boots through the holes. I pulled them up, wishing I could clean myself before putting on the panties.

  “You done?” Barrett called my attention to him. He wasn’t even looking at me, his gaze instead now focused on the near distance…toward where a dull roar of voices was beginning to grow louder and louder.

  “I’m glad I don’t have to be there tonight. Always gives me the creeps,” Sandy spoke, her arms crossed as she looked nervously in the same direction as Barrett.

  “Should be used to it by now,” Barrett said, flicking her a glance.

  “The minute I get used to it is the minute I lose the last bit of humanity I’ve got left,” she responded sadly. And then she looked at me again, giving me a small and hopeless smile. “Surviving comes in many different forms. You’ll find that out.” Her eyes left mine. “I’ve got a customer. Be seeing you, Barrett.” She shut the door to retreat back into the brightness of Nathan’s domain, and Barrett and I were left in the dimness of late evening, with only the glowing of a few outdoor lamps to keep us company.

  Barrett started walking away without saying anything to me. He moved like a shadow, his form disappearing in between sprays of light. I hurried after him, still having to pull down the dress, but at least knowing there was something covering me underneath now.

  The further we walked, the closer we got to the growing commotion. I stopped in my tracks as the heady scent of blood hit me square in the face. I felt heat rise in my chest, forcing its flame into my throat. It burned and my vision went pink, hunger growing in my belly.

  I recalled what the woman had said—how she’d been grateful she didn’t have to be there tonight. Be where?

  I thought back further—to Jackson and the stranger’s voice. Charlie said to get to the arena.

  The arena.

  Smiley.

  A lump formed in my throat and I was back in the pit of zombies, crawling my way between legs, the stink of pungent, rotting flesh all around me. I don’t know why I hadn’t connected the dots earlier. Maybe because I was too focused on not being left behind. I never once considered that the destination might be worse than the risk of being alone.

  Stopping in my tracks, I tried to swallow. The promise of what I was about to see stuck in my throat like a bitter pill. “Barrett,” I called his name as bile joined the fire in my throat.

  “What?” He turned around, face blank. But he knew.

  “They’re fighting tonight, aren’t they? Smiley’s zombies?”

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “Zombies against humans?” I didn’t need to ask the question, because I could smell the different blood in the air—it was like wine. An aged, good merlot will have that deep burgundy hue; it will carry floral notes and taste sweet before the tang of bitterness hits your tongue. But a bottle that’s gone bad, that’s overheated and expanded and turned a brownish hue—it will be noxious and chemical.

  I’d tasted the flesh of the monsters, the way the rot was just this side of sweet before it turned brown and inedible. I remembered digging my finger into an eyeball, watching it burst like a too-juicy grape.

  The memories roiled in my brain, waves crashing to shore. The pink in my vision grew deeper, responding to the smells around me and the things I remembered. My stomach rumbled and a small groan spilled from between my lips.

  “Whoa now, girl. Ain’t the time for that.” Barrett was next to me. He smelled like soap and sandalwood and sex. His voice, and his presence, pulled me from the brink. But the pink in my eyes didn’t completely leave, nor did the racing of my pulse. “We’re about to go into the belly of the beast. Pull it together or you’ll get us both killed. And I’m not dying today.”

  “You wanted her earlier,” I choked out, realization hitting me and almost laughing. “That’s what you meant, right? When you said ‘there she is.’ I get it now.” I sounded bitter, angry and upset as Barrett stared at me with that nonchalant look he always had on his face.

  Barrett said nothing, his gaze continuing to be that blank canvas that was so handsome, yet so goddamn frustrating too.

  “Took you fucking long enough.” It was Jackson’s voice that broke through our standoff, and I stiffened.

  Barrett slung an arm around me, painting on a different mask—one of cocky self-awareness—before turning us both to face the newcomer.

  “Goddamn Charlie sent me back out to find your ass. I’m missing the end of the first round, thanks to you.”

  I didn’t want to look at the man speaking. Panic warred with the monster inside, so badly that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run for my life or attack. Run for my life won. It won, and my vision cleared and my tear ducts decided to water and I was going to stand there and cry like an idiot. I forced the emotions down, swallowed them so that they’d sink into my stomach and be destroyed by the acids there.

  Jackson’s face was battered, a dark bruise over his eye like a pirate patch, and his bottom lip was scabbed over. I’d split it, apparently, in my desperate fight to get away from him. He bristled at the sight of me, his mouth contorting as he snarled.

  “That’s the bitch that did this to me.” He stomped forward. “You owe me, bitch.”

  I tried to cower away, but Barrett kept me firmly in his grasp so that I had to face what was coming. I flinched, feeling sick, but I couldn’t run no matter how much my mind screamed at me to.

  Barrett’s choice was obvious.

  He wouldn’t choose me over a fellow Sin.

  “Now, now, Jackson. Are you admitting that a woman fucked you up? And not a burly, giant woman, but this little bitty thing?” He quirked an eyebrow and I wanted to scream at him not to poke the bear, not to make it worse.

  Jackson’s face turned beet red; anger and embarrassment mingled like reluctant bedfellows in his expression. “Don’t fucking patronize me, Barrett.”

  “Thought you told everyone one of the cage fighters tangled with you when you were trying to help Smiley. But now you see my woman and decide she did that to your face?” Barrett pointed lazily, chortled, and cocked his head back slightly. “I think you just want a piece of the action.”

  Jackson took another step forward, and I huddled against Barrett’s body. A coward. A damn coward. The monster inside had decided to bury itself. Traitor, I thought irrationally. You’re in my body. I should be in control. And I need you right now. There was no spark of adrenaline to keep me alive, and though the smell of blood and wetter things from the arena was tempting my nostrils, it wasn’t strong enough to override the sight of the brutal Jackson in front of me. The only thing coursing throu
gh my shell of a body at that second was pure, unfiltered, human fear.

  “Goddammit, Barrett,” Jackson snarled, holding his ground but no longer advancing, at least. Though that fact didn’t untie the knot in my chest.

  “Let me be real fuckin’ clear. This is my woman.” Barrett shrugged. “If she did something, you’re welcome to take it up with me.” His voice grew more serious with each word.

  “You’d protect a bitch?” Jackson’s lip curled, eyes narrowing. “Protect a bitch and not believe your goddamn brother?”

  “Ain’t got no siblings.” The man holding on to me—the unpredictable, sexy-as-hell criminal of a man holding on to me—gave my body a little squeeze and I could feel the tension flowing through his arms. If Jackson wanted a fight, he’d give it to him.

  “We’re Sins, Barrett.”

  “Well, now. That’s true.” Barrett released me, and the hope that he was going to protect me sunk away like an anvil in the ocean. I’d been too quick to judge his actions. I’d been wrong. “But I’ve never particularly liked you, Jackson. You’re dead weight in my book. Charlie wouldn’t bat an eye if you and I tangled. He’d figure you deserved it.”

  “Charlie wouldn’t—” But the confidence quickly seeped from Jackson’s face.

  “I’ve been around a lot longer than you, kid. Who do you think Charlie would side with? A two-decade Sin that’s brought in more revenue than any other fucking person, or one that’s been around a couple years and still doesn’t know his place?” Though his voice was steady and unassuming, the threat behind Barrett’s words was so heady that it even stole the air from my own lungs. By the way Jackson’s face had gone pale, I knew he felt the same way.

  “And let me be real clear,” Barrett continued, taking a step toward Jackson so that he was towering over him, bristling with anger. “You belong under my boot.”

  “Hey, man.” Jackson held up his hands, finally backing down. “No need to bring Charlie into this. It wasn’t her, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Barrett took another step forward.

  “No. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t fucking her.” Jackson threw me one last glare that told me that this wasn’t over and then turned tail and jogged away, heading toward the arena.

  We stood for a moment, with Barrett and I both staring after the other man. Finally, I cleared my throat to thank Barrett, but he held up a hand, not looking at me.

  “That wasn’t for you. There’s a hierarchy, and that son of a bitch doesn’t understand it.” Barrett started walking away from me, and the knot in my chest, which had just decided to unravel, knotted back again—this time tighter than ever.

  *

  The roar of the stadium was almost deafening now. Whistles sounded from between cracked, sunburnt lips. The smell of beer, blood, body odor, and tobacco assaulted us as we walked between rows of bleachers. People were stomping their boots against the metal platforms, and the rhythmic beating shook the surroundings like earthquakes.

  My heart thumped; my pulse was thick in my mouth.

  My eyes found the arena cage in the middle of the madness: tall walls of metal fencing topped with razor wire separated the onlookers from the blood-soaked earth of the fighting grounds. I saw a few people, all so damaged that they looked seconds from dying. I recognized the beaten man from outside the showers. It was hard to believe that he was still alive... The ground at his feet was littered with inert zombies, their heads caved in and brain matter mushed across the pitch-dark dirt.

  There was a second, shorter wall between the seating and the cage, and perched between the rows of bleachers was an observation deck, solidly built and housing a group of people that could only be described as the “royalty” of the raggedy bunch of bastards.

  They were all waiting for something. For someone.

  A morbidly fat man in the large throne-like seat at the center of the raised dais called for Barrett. Barrett held up a hand, a stoic wave, and then he directed us toward the head honchos. I followed slowly, until Barrett growled to stay close and keep my mouth shut.

  “So this is the cunt that’s got you in thrall.” Jabba—or so I chose to call him in my head—looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my body as he licked his lips. Spittle dripped down from his mouth, wetting his chin. He patted his belly, the thick folds jumping like gelatin as he moved. “I can see the appeal, Wolf. She’s...” Again he licked his lips, eyes growing wide with thoughts I wasn’t privy to. I didn’t want to know them. “She’s delicious.”

  “I’ve always had good taste,” Barrett joked, sexual implications heavy in his tone. “What can I say? One good fuck and I was hooked.”

  “Bitches are disposable,” Nathan cut in, his arms slung over the shoulders of two women, one of which glared daggers at me as if I’d made moves on the nasty man next to her. He glanced at me, a twisted smile on his face. “When you’re tired of her, you know where to send her.”

  “Our Barrett’s never been sweet on one pussy before,” Jabba laughed out, tilting his head back and showing off a fat, pale tongue and yellow, cracked teeth. “She might not make it to you before he breaks her good and proper.”

  I tried not to squirm, but I couldn’t help shuffling my feet and taking a minute step back from the horrendous men.

  My mind was whirling. How did I end up here? How did everything get so fucked up?

  Nearby, I heard a voice yell a name. And the voice was familiar. And the name was familiar.

  But I was too caught up in the reality of what my life was becoming.

  Barrett. Nathan. Jabba. Jackson.

  “I can’t,” the same somewhat familiar voice called out, and it was weak and heart-wrenchingly sad, and I almost turned to look. Barrett’s grip found me then, keeping me glued to the sight of the Sins talking about my body, about using me until I was nothing.

  “Yeah you can, Rose,” a new voice called back... No, not new. Familiar again. “You have to,” it said again. A man’s voice.

  Rose.

  This time I did turn, enough to see the fighting ring and the broken people inside.

  A newcomer was in the belly of the arena now. A woman, her hair trailing down her back in mussed waves. And behind her, a younger man stood at an open gate. He waved his hands forward, telling her to do something.

  In her grip was a large sign. I blinked at it, reading the words.

  Round 2.

  I could tell the woman didn’t want to be there; she was visibly shaking. Though I couldn’t see her face and she was turned away from me looking at the human fighters, I knew that her expression would be one of fear and horror.

  Slowly, she lifted the sign above her head and started walking.

  The whistles grew louder. The men told her to “lose the shirt,” “give us a show,” “shake that ass.” I felt sick for her, hollow in my middle like everything I’d wanted in this world had finally died away completely.

  And then she turned and began walking the circle toward me.

  And I saw her face.

  And I knew why the two voices were familiar earlier. It could have been another woman. A woman with her same name. But it wasn’t.

  My eyes darted to the fighters, to the man who was battered and bruised and purple all over. Why hadn’t I recognized him earlier? Why hadn’t I known? I’d been so stupid...so fucking stupid. It was Nolan. Oh my God, it was actually Nolan, and the woman was Rose.

  My friend.

  My ally.

  My family.

  “Rose!” I screamed, her name like shards of glass ripping up my throat as it exited. “Oh my god! Rose!” The words erupted from me painfully.

  The sign nearly fell from her grip as she frantically looked for the person screaming her name, her stride faltering as she scanned the seating area frantically.

  “Rose!” I pulled myself from Barrett’s too-tight grasp and moved from his side, my vision bleeding red and my body lighting on fire, the flame of the monster inside hotter than it had ever been as my emotions too
k over.

  Rose’s gaze finally met mine and I watched as she choked on a sob.

  She saw me. She saw me!

  “Sam!” she screamed, looking hesitant to move away from her place in the ring. Fear filled her face, her gaze moving between me, Nolan, and the man behind her.

  But I wasn’t scared. The monster inside me was growing and I bolted for the stairs that exited the raised platform. Red. Everything was going red. Desperation, fury, relief, and love for the girl beyond the cage wall—all driving me forward in a blaze of movement.

  My foot hit the first riser; my pulse pounded, and my blood throbbed through my veins. No one had stepped in to stop me yet, which was good for them, because I’d kill anyone who got in my way. Nothing would come between me and Rose ever again. It was me and her forever. From this second forward.

  There was so much fear and longing, so much terror written all over her face. I just wanted to hold her in my arms again. I just wanted us to be okay. Rose, Nolan, and me.

  I took another step down and felt a sharp pain against the back of my head.

  And then the world went black.

  Chapter Five.

  Rose

  “Sam!” I screamed as Barrett hit the back of her head and I watched the light go out of her furious red gaze. She began to fall, but he was there to catch her and scoop her up in his arms and take her away.

  He took the steps two at a time, throwing some words to Charlie and Nathan as he left, and then I was alone in all of this again.

  “Rose,” Elias rumbled my name from the edge of the arena, but I couldn’t stop staring at the place where Sam had just been. “Get moving. Round two still needs announcing, despite your little meet and greet with your BFF,” he said sardonically.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  I just couldn’t do it.

  I finally tore my gaze away from the stairs and back towards Nolan. He was holding on to the cage bars for support like he just didn’t have the energy to stand up anymore, never mind fight, and that was it. That was all it took to push me over the edge.