Deadweight | Book 2 | The Last Bite

by Forster, Paul

  “He calls the shots. Without him, we’d all be lost and alone,” Liam answered. He really didn’t have a good reason why they had fallen in behind Charles, it had almost been accidental, but now they were stuck enforcing his tyranny.

  “But what are you now, a team of thugs? Maybe if you helped people rather than hurt them, humanity might stand a chance.” With trained and armed soldiers, the farm might not have been overrun. She wouldn’t have lost her friends. Jack wouldn’t have raided the rescue camp on his own.

  “It’s not that easy,” Liam stated. He wasn’t comfortable with the conversation, bringing his shame into focus.

  “It is, he’s just one man. You don’t have to kill and kidnap for him. If you carry on like this, what happens? Where’s the future if you’ve killed everyone or imprisoned them?”

  “There isn’t a future, that’s the point. We might have a few years, then we’ll all be dead. At least Charles lets us go out on our terms,” Liam said. Charles had made the soldiers feel worthless, drummed into them that life would be over soon and they may as well enjoy themselves. Not one soldier saw a future beyond two or three years.

  “They’re his terms. You’re just too stupid to realise. Do you know what an armed force like yours could achieve? We had a community, a good one. With your protection, we would have lived many years, planting crops and becoming self-sufficient. Instead, you were out raping and murdering.”

  “I’ve never raped or murdered anyone,” he denied. Liam hadn’t, but if Charles had ordered him to, he would have killed everyone at the farm.

  “You let it happen, you’re just as bad,” she accused. Amy didn’t have the strength to continue talking.

  Liam turned away. She was right, Kenneth was right. He knew at least two of his fellow soldiers took part in the assaults, none of the others approved. The world had ended, societal norms ceased to be. They told themselves that they kept the women safe and left the settlements they raided largely intact. They never left them defenceless or took everything they had. They could have acted far more brutally than they did, but they could have helped. They could have defended and trained the survivors, armed them, treated them, helped them.

  The cars drove up the large driveway. The soldiers who defended the perimeter were eager to see what the latest patrol had produced and looked in the vehicles. The disappointment was nearly audible when a single female seemed to have been the extent of the haul.

  As the cars pulled up at the side of the house. The selection of the vehicles amassed surprised Amy. Besides the large number of four-wheel-drive cars, two army trucks and a Warrior infantry fighting vehicle, there were sports cars. Toys amongst the tools. Charles wasn’t a fierce leader, he was an idiot man child. He wanted to play with guns, fast cars, and shag a lot of women.

  The door opened, and they helped Amy out of the car. Looking at the house, it was grand. In the upstairs windows, maybe a dozen female faces stared down at her. Some in their teens, others a few years older, but all shared the same blank look on their faces. Charles greeted her with a smile, “Welcome to my home, one of my men will take you up to the other women. You can shower and change into something nicer up there.”

  Amy didn’t look at him, she was too busy studying her surroundings. For every soldier she had seen from the long driveway leading to the house, she could now see more, better hidden, ready to raise the alarm. There were too many of them. Escape past these trained soldiers would be difficult. Even if she wasn’t physically and mentally drained, it would be next to impossible.

  As they led her into the house, the opulence of the house again struck her. Beautiful artwork hung on walls, priceless statues and sculptures were in abundance. Even small things such as how clean everything was surprised Amy. This wasn’t a house at the end of the world, it was a wealthy abode that hadn’t changed one bit since people started eating each other.

  Upstairs, she was greeted by a blonde woman in her late twenties. Like the others, she looked like they had taken all hope from her. “You’ll find a bed at the end of the room with fresh clothes. There is a shower in the en-suite, he’ll want you to use it straightaway.”

  “I’m Amy, are you okay?”

  “Don’t worry, he won’t force himself on you for a few days. He’ll want to make sure you’re clear of infection first,” she spoke drily, devoid of emotion, failing to answer Amy’s basic question.

  “Thank you,” Amy replied. She was still examining her cage. A large room, no doubt it was once a grand guest bedroom, now it housed a dozen single beds and random, but exquisite, pieces of furniture. A small TV sat at the far end of the room, with several of the women transfixed by the DVD film playing.

  Amy followed her orders. She didn’t have the strength to fight, and if she had a day or two to recover, she’d use it.

  Chapter 54

  In nearly two days Amy hadn’t been allowed to leave the room, instead imprisoned with the other women. Soldiers would routinely deliver meals or pick up women to take away for a few hours. When they returned they would quietly take themselves to shower, then sit in silence watching the TV. Amy would leave them alone, no need to make them relive the trauma. It’s not as if she could take a statement, arrest the offenders and have them put behind bars for a very long time. She was feeling stronger, having been given the opportunity to rest. Her mind was filled with grief and concern for those who had died, and the others they had taken her from.

  The other women were numb, Amy wasn’t sure if this was through stress or if they were being drugged. Either way, she decided against taking her chances and only ate the sealed packets of food and drank water from the bathroom tap. Eager to keep her wits about her in case an opportunity, no matter how unlikely, presented itself. Her time was ticking down, she had shown no signs of infection, Charles would soon call for her.

  Dinner arrived, a selection of tinned vegetables, stewed meats and packets of crisps and chocolate. Amy went to collect the trolley, keen to pocket a greater share of anything sealed.

  Liam was the allocated delivery boy and was glad that Amy came to him. “You’re right about Charles, about this whole fucking situation. We didn’t sign up to serve this country to then become what we are now. I once saved an Afghani kid who got caught in the crossfire when we were ambushed by the Taliban. How the hell did I get here?” he vented. The regret in Liam’s voice was genuine.

  Amy believed him. “The same way we all did. We survive, he led down a different path, the wrong one. But you can turn it around. Help us, please.”

  Liam reached into his pocket and produced a small folding knife, the blade less than three inches. “It’s sharp, it will do what you need it to do.”

  “You want me to do it?” she asked. Amy was both surprised and annoyed by the idea.

  “You’ll be alone with him. You can do it before they realise, then we can protect you from them. We have the numbers,” he said. Maybe Liam was being a coward, but he was right. Of the soldiers, only a few were truly in Charles’ camp. Most hated him, but a handful would back him to keep the status quo. If that was removed, they wouldn’t side with the rapists.

  Amy slipped the knife into her pocket and wheeled the trolley away, taking what she needed before reaching the others. Even if they had seen her, she doubted they’d object. She sat on her bed and opened a packet of peanuts and deposited half of the pack in her mouth. As she crunched through the nuts, she slyly examined the knife. It was sharp, but it was small. She had slashed and stabbed so many of the feeders; she knew the damage even a small blade could do if it struck the right spot. The monsters needed the brain to be pierced, but Charles was a different kind of beast. He was far more susceptible to a fatal wound than one of the grey fleshed creatures she had often dispatched. He was big and strong, his frame would mean he would easily overpower her. She might only get a single opportunity to stop him.

  The advantage she had was that he had no idea who she was or what she had been through. Underestimation could be a
powerful weapon. In her former life as a police officer, many a taller, stronger drunkard looked at this smaller woman and didn’t deem her a threat. As she expertly put them on the floor and placed the handcuffs on them, they regretted their poor judgement. Amy observed her fellow captives. If they, as she suspected, were drugged, she would need to imitate them, put him at complete ease. That might buy her the time to get the blade into him. She quickly finished her food and sat amongst the women in front of the TV as they slowly began collecting their meals and eating.

  Maybe an hour of near silence had passed when the door burst open and a soldier stood in the doorway. “New girl. Make sure you’re clean and wearing this in fifteen minutes,” he commanded, holding out a small bag and waited for Amy to collect it.

  She gradually rose and fixed her gaze a few feet away from the soldier. Her walk was slow and lazy, she felt she had recreated the demeanour perfectly of the other women. She reached towards the soldier, holding her hands out slightly to the side of the where the bag was presented to her. The soldier dumped the small bag into her hands. “Fifteen minutes. Be ready.”

  Amy drifted back to her bed and opened the bag. Skimpy underwear that was a size too small and a silk nightie which was a two sizes too big. Nothing with pockets, nothing much at all really. She remained emotionless as she obeyed the order to clean herself up and dress in the nightwear. She looked at the small knife, now thankful it wasn’t any bigger, and then slid it between her buttocks. She wiggled to make sure it stayed in place. The underwear being too small held it firmly, the oversized nightie covered the small bulge perfectly. Carefully, she walked to the door, and the knife didn’t budge. She stared at an imperfection in the door frame’s paintwork and waited to be collected.

  She wasn’t sure she could murder this man, no matter how much of a monster he was. He needed to be stopped, and no one else was willing to try. It didn’t give her the right to be judge, jury and executioner, but would she be any better if she let herself become another victim and let him carry on his disgusting cycle? If he tried to assault her, it would be self-defence. Amy felt comfortable with that justification. She had no choice but to go into this situation. If he attacked her, anything she did would be in the name of defending herself and not an execution.

  The door opened, and a soldier looked her up and down with a wry smile and pulled her out of the bedroom. Liam watched from the end of the hallway. He hoped she would do what was needed, and if it all fell apart, not implicate him. He made sure to have his rifle ready and had jammed a few protein bars in his pockets in case they needed to shoot their way out and flee. They led Amy down the corridor and she passed Liam. She gave nothing away.

  Chapter 55

  The room was unlike any other in the grand house. Gone were the antiques, fine art and expensive furniture. The bed was from a high street store, the single set of drawers made of laminated chipboard, the carpet removed and unloved floorboards exposed. This room wasn’t setup to impress, it was basic, but it served its sordid purpose.

  Charles had his own routine before he had a girl brought to him. He undressed, neatly folded his clothes and placed them into the set of drawers. His pistol was removed and carefully placed under the bed, ready should he need it. Two sets of handcuffs were attached to the headboard. He had only needed to use them once, but he checked them to make sure they were ready to use and the key was close by. The last detail was the machete. It was stained with red, not grey blood, and it sat on top of the drawers. If a woman had any fight left in her when she entered, he would make sure she didn’t have it for long. The large dirty blade would often be enough to scare the fight out of them. Combined with his powerful frame and unashamed aggression, he rarely found resistance a problem.

  Naked, he sat at the end of the bed, the machete within reach, and waited for the new girl. He was looking forward to breaking her in. He enjoyed having an excuse to get a little rough. Before society fell, he’d had to pay off many a prostitute for taking things too far. He detested the victim for it, but he couldn’t have his reputation or that of his family dragged through the mud by a whore.

  After waiting perfectly still for several minutes, the door opened, and they pushed Amy through. The door locked behind her. He smiled, she scrubbed up nicely.

  She tried her best to remain emotionless. He was naked. That was jarring enough, but the stench was barely tolerable. It smelled liked nearly every cleaning product created had been used recently to scrub this torrid room. She clocked the handcuffs, the machete and wondered just how far this animal takes his desires.

  “Come on then, step a little closer. Let me get a good look at you,” Charles said and motioned for Amy to come closer. She stepped forward and stopped a few feet short. “Yes, lovely. Now, you know everything that happens here is your choice. You can do what I want and say, or I can cut you into a dozen chunks and feed your parts to the first grey bastard I see. Do you understand?” he threatened and Amy nodded. “Good, now I want you to undress, slowly. We have all the time in the world and I want to see what you have to offer,” he said. A dirty smile spread across his face in anticipation of the show.

  Slowly? She was only wearing two items of clothing. Amy started by dropping a shoulder down of her nightie as she moved a step forward. She followed with the other shoulder and as it dropped she turned around, shielding her breasts from his view. Charles adjusted himself as he became aroused. She was another step closer as she turned back around to face him. The silk nightie glided off of her body to the floor, revealing her chest. Charles approved as Amy moved closer. Her hands clutched her own buttocks as she pushed out her breasts and retrieved the blade. If she dropped it, there was little doubt in her mind she’d add to the bloodstains on the large blade.

  She held the small folding knife in her right hand behind her back, Charles was too busy staring at her tits to notice anything suspicious. She unfolded the blade with her left hand, the blade now ready. Amy wasn’t. He undoubtedly deserved what was coming to him, but she couldn’t just kill him in cold blood. She eased off her panties to her audience’s delight and took the step forward. She could smell his breath and see he was fully aroused. “Shall I start?”

  Charles nodded enthusiastically.

  Amy dropped to her knees. He spread his legs a little to give her better access. She cupped his testicles in her hand and squeezed them gently, and ever so carefully pulled them towards her. She didn’t think, she hadn’t planned for this. Within the blink of an eye, Charles was screaming in pain. His balls were still in her hand, now severed from his body. Her small blade had taken them clean off with a single fast slash.

  Charles was in a panic and dragged himself backwards onto the bed towards the headboard. Amy threw the testicles at him, freaking him out further and allowing her to act before he could compose himself. She leapt across the room to pick up the stained machete; it was larger and heavier than the one she was used to.

  “Kill her, kill her! The crazy bitch has stabbed me!” Charles pleaded for help. His excitement only made his blood pump faster out over the bed. He began reaching under the bed but struggled to reach the pistol.

  Amy held the machete in her right hand and the small blade in her left. She was prepared to fight her way out, or at least take a few of them with her. From the hallway outside, she could hear shouting, followed by a gunshot. Then several more.

  A moment of silence, then the door slowly opened, Amy hid behind it as the barrel of a rifle rounded the corner and edged into view.

  Charles had got his handgun and pointed it towards Amy. He struggled to hold it up and keep it trained on her. The trigger pull was far heavier than it should have been and as he squeezed it he moved off of his target and slammed the round into the soldier entering the room. He dropped to the floor, clutching the wound to his throat as he struggled with the blood entering his lungs. Amy crouched on the ground as Charles fired two more times before the weight of the pistol became too much for him. The pistol dropped to t
he bed, “Kill her,” Charles quietly ordered.

  Two more soldiers burst into the room. The first, Amy slashed the machete towards him, missing by millimetres. The second soldier pushed Amy to the floor. “Stop, it’s over!” Liam shouted at Amy. He checked on his colleague, who Amy had narrowly missed, but paid little attention to the final jolts from the soldier choking on his own blood.

  “Charles had two steadfast supporters, this one and his mate outside. Anyone else was with us or on the fence. It’s over,” Liam assured her. He had blood dripping from his ear, a small piece missing, more ran down his arm from a wound to his shoulder. He picked up the nightie and threw it to Amy, who quickly slid it back on.

  “Kill her, kill her.” The words were barely audible.

  The two soldiers approached wearily, staring at the bloody mess. “Jesus, you were supposed to kill him, not cut his dick off,” Liam said. Both looked shocked at the extent of the wound and the amount of blood.

  “It was his balls,” Amy replied, still in shock herself.

  “Balls, dick. I just wasn’t expecting that. Are you okay?” he asked. Liam hadn’t failed to notice she had blood over her, he assumed correctly it wasn’t hers.

  “Yes. Are you?” she asked him. Liam’s wounds were obvious.

  “I’ll get checked out when he’s fucked off down to hell. You’ve done a good thing, you have,” he replied. Even Liam could see Amy was struggling, he could tell she was hard, but not cold-blooded.

  “There was a time I’d have been able to arrest him, he’d have had a day in court and served a very long sentence. That was justice. This doesn’t feel like justice.”

  “Maybe one day, we’ll be back to law courts. At the moment, justice is whatever we can do to right a wrong,” he said. Liam had a lot of wrongs to right, but was glad he could get back on the right path.

  Amy shrugged, unsure of who was right. “When can I get back to my people?” Amy questioned. She’d done her job, her friends at the farm were vulnerable and needed her.