“This is going to be a real treat,” he whispered. “For me.” He placed a steady hand into the small of her back.
“Keep your feet planted.”
He reached into his coveralls and produced a little swiss army knife. He thumbed out a small blade. He quietly sliced the material in her panties on one side and let the remainder fall into a heap over her opposite leg. Never before had she ever felt so exposed. Violated. She knew the worst was yet to come. All manner of thoughts spiraled through her mind, her defense mechanisms screaming for a method of escape.
She cringed again as she heard him unbutton his overalls, the sounds amplified by the dark box they were in. He pushed them down over himself and leaned in against her. She felt the horror of him, braced and ready against her. She screwed her eyes shut. Her mind was already altering the event. This did not happen. None of this would happen.
The door burst open. The heat of the air was cut even as the rapist turned at the sound. A pathetic scream burst forth.
The man reached up to his shoulder but stopped before grabbing at the offending weapon. Blood dribbled out in think rivulets at the site of his wound. He stared hard at the cause. The business end of a samurai sword. His eyes followed in horror the line of metal all the way to the force that had launched it into him. Charlie stared down the line back at him, her lips scrunched in anger. Ellie limped away on all fours, finally permitted herself a scream. She stumbled across the tile, her dress making her slip and tumbling through the adjacent stall. She crawled into a ball and she wept.
Charlie pulled up on the sword with both hands. The would-be rapist wailed in agony.
“Walk,” she said simply.
She pulled back on the sword and pitched the man forward as she walked back out the bathroom door. Jace arrived just as they appeared in the door. His eyes widened as the man was drug out of the room, held like a dog on a leash by sword tip. Charlie swung the man around.
“What the hell…”
“Go check on your sister.”
Jace ran around Charlie and bolted through the door.
Charlie’s eyes burned a line straight through the man’s shoulder. Then she looked him in the eyes and took a step forward. The man’s face contorted in agony. The blade wound in his flesh was bad enough. She felt in bend of the blade as it struck bone.
She pushed him stumbling backward. He alternated hands trying to grab at the blade, stopping short before he had them cut as well. He was waltzed all the way back to the tents where Byron stood awake and ready.
“Charlie,” he whispered in shock. Fayte’s shadow stood in the light against the tent. She stayed still, listening intently, but was obeying Bryon’s call to stay put.
“Gimme a hand Byron.” Her face remained deadpan.
Charlie continued to guide the man until eventually they arrived at the entrance. Bryon joined her at her side.
“This man attacked Ellie.”
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know yet. Her brother is checking on her.”
Quick footfalls came up behind them. Jace was running up, sliding and nearly ran into Byron.
“She locked herself in the stall. She won’t even talk to me,” he puffed, trying to catch his breath.
“What the hell did you do? She won’t even talk to me!”
Charlie stared hard into the eyes of the stranger.
The man started to laugh, even through the pain. Truly, this was a man whose mind snapped a long time ago. He stared at the sword in his shoulder, trying to disbelieve that was even there. Charlie refused to let that happen. She gave her handle a slight twist. The next moment he had dropped to his knees. Still, it was not enough.
Jace walked to Charlie’s side. “What did he do?” The words caught in his throat like broken glass.
“He tried to take her.” She sniffed. “He tried to take her.” She could not bring herself to say the word rape. Her own memories bubbled to the surface. It made her sick all over again. She was boiling over now, her eyes red and aflame. Even in this empty world, there were still people left treating women like cattle, taking them and using them and discarding them like wrappers in the street. No.
Despite the berserker rage mode, she could not bring herself to kill him. Zombies were monsters. Monsters are meant to be slain. This monster was still a living person.
She gave the sword a twist and ripped it out. The man fell forward onto his face, busting his lip and nose on the tile.
The man giggled again. “I was just taking what I was due.”
“How long have you been holed up here,” Jace demanded.
The man sat up, adjusting his nose. “Since the beginning. Good digs here. Safe from them runnin’ around outside.”
“Well, you can’t stay here now.”
“You fucking stabbed me, you bitch!”
Charlie leaned in a bit closer. “I can still stab you again.”
That shut him up.
Jace looked past the man through the glass of the entryway, lost in thought. The shock of his sister. It had put the brakes on everything else, even his shakes.
“This man isn’t r-r-right, Charlie. We need to get him away from us. Away from all you girls.”
Jace’s eyes were lost in his head. He stared ahead seemingly at nothing. Everything. Charlie noticed, but waited. She had a bad feeling Jace was about to have a meltdown. After all, she did not know him. There was no telling how an attack on his sister would do to him, and still being an addict as far as she knew.
The man nodded appreciatively at Charlie. “If I knew you were here girlie, I might have chosen you first.” He licked his lips. It made Charlie’s skin crawl. She knew that look all too well. He would have taken her anyway he could. He thought he was lucky when he stumbled upon Ellie. She was an easy, weak target. He would have had to incapacitate Charlie, and he would have had his fun anyway. This man could not be left to his own recognizances.
She stretched her arms around the swords handle, but a hand on her own gave her pause. She looked up into Jace’s face, still staring out through the window.
“Bryon,” he called. “Go open the door.”
Byron looked at Jace, puzzled, but a sharp look from Jace put him into motion. Jace followed suit and grabbed the opposite side of the sliding glass, while Byron started moving carts.
“What the hell are you doing?” Charlie yelled.
“He can’t stay here.” Jace said simply.
The final cart was removed, and Jace motioned to Bryon to follow him. Jace grabbed the rapist from under him arm and Byron copied.
“Get up.” Said Jace.
“Ha. Like I’m gonna make it easy for you.”
Jace gave him a cruel smile which lasted only a moment, and then dug a knuckle into his fresh sword wound.
He screamed.
“Get up!”
The man struggled to his feet. “Hold him up Bryon.” He walked to the man’s side and sized him up. The rapist merely stared back at him brandishing his disgusting unkept teeth. “Watcha gonna do little boy? Arrest me?” He through his head back and gave out a belly laugh.
Jace smiled. “Well, for starters. This is for my sister.” Jace brought his foot up and kicked in the man’s ankle. The crack echoed through the store.
The man could not even scream, his laugh suddenly silenced. Before he could drop, Jace snatched him up from under the arms again and started to drag him toward the door. Bryon went with the flow and dragged him by the arm as well, just going with the flow of action.
“No! No! You can’t do this to me! Anything but this!” The man’s eye widened into the realization of what was happening. No slow and easy death would be coming for him. Death was in the bleachers, watching the show, and he would not come down until it was truly over.
Jace ignored the man slapping and punching him, even as he was slid across the floor. He panicked and tried to plead to Byron, whom he judged at this point to be the kinder of the two. Byron ignored him and marched
on, like a computer program that had to run its course. Outside the sliding glass doors, they tossed him and watched him collapse into a pitiful pile.
“Watch him for a sec. Don’t let him back in.” Jace turned and walked back to Charlie. He looked down at the sword still in Charlie’s hands.
“Mind if I borrow that? I’ll bring it right back.”
Charlie could not blame him. Her own rage was still ebbing from behind her eyes. She carefully flipped the handle and presented it to him.
The man had pulled himself back onto his haunches. He looked as if her was trying to find a god to pray to. His eyes tore open as Jace reappeared before him, wielding the offending blade. For a moment, Jace let his eyes burrow into the man, as if he was weighing the consequences of his next action.
He looked down at the blade, still bloody from Charlie’s first plunge. He lifted it up and gave it a quick flick, spraying crimson droplets all over the rapist’s face and into his open mouth. The man stared wide eyed in shock and choked. He had just known that Jace was going to finish him off, but what the hell was this?
Jace kicked hard into his chest toppling him over. The man’s head ricocheted off of the asphalt. There he stayed. His eyes rolled around in his head, trying to find their center.
“Let’s go Byron.”
They turned and left him there. The man reached out, but only found empty air. His eyes strained to see the two figures walking brisk back into the store. He mumbled, but it was in comprehensible. Jace turned around just at the doors and put his fingers to his lips. He whistled sharply and a half dozen walkers leapt up from various places around the parking lot. The rapist started to freak and he flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to get back on his feet. This only gave the zombies a target to lock in on.
Jace and Byron both dashed in and quickly closed the door. The carts were back in place, the barricade reinforced. Jace, Byron, and Charlie simply stared as the justice of the new world was dispensed.
The man managed to get up on one leg and a couple of haphazard skips before they were upon him. One caught him up from behind and made short work of his exposed neck. Blood shot in split streams coating the monster from head to chest. Others dive-bombed his legs and he went tumbling down again. In the mass of writhing bodies, only one living arm shot out to the sky, pumping it finger in writhing agony. It pulsed with such intensity, the muscles swelled to the point of nearly exploding. In the next instant, all of the power was spent. It flopped lifelessly down into the horde of hungry beasts, never to rise again.
Jace did mental count of the scene outside the window. He ran past Charlie mumbling.
“At least we know how many goons are out there now.”
Charlie averted her eyes. At least she did not have to kill him. She hoped in her heart she would never have to be put in that position again. She screwed her eyes shut, but the rapist still laid there on the asphalt. Only now he held the many faces of those who attempted to visit the very same act upon her and the one face that succeeded.
“Charlie!”
Charlie ran to the sound of Jace’s voice. She found herself back at the bathrooms, with Jace’s caressing the door frame. He was in tears. He pulled his forehead off of the wall and faced her. He looked so lost.
“She won’t let me in. It’s like he’s still in there with her. Every time I open the door she just screams,” he sobbed.
“Let me,” Charlie whispered. Jace stepped aside, backed up into the corner and slid down to him bottom.
Charlie cracked the door. Ellie started screaming again.
“Ellie. It’s me.” She tried to sound as feminine as possible. She did not want her to confuse her with one of the guys. Right now men were the enemy. All of them were guilty by association. It was not something that could be helped. Basic defense mechanism.
At the sound of Charlie’s voice, Ellie stopped, but her unmistakable sobs continued to echo out of the stall.
She stepped in and allowed the door to shut and cancel out the last shades of light. She walked over the the stall and laid down on the floor. There was no sense of trying the door. She knew it was locked. This girl’s heart, her very life was on lock-down.
She whispered under the door. “Charlie. Is that you?”
“Yes, hun. It’s me,” she answered. She tried to adjust her voice to compensate for the dark. She did not want to frighten the poor girl more than she already was. Her voice served to show where she was, practically at her feet.
“Can I come in?”
A slight pause. “Yes.”
Charlie pulled herself under the stall door. Ellie did not wait. She threw her arms around Charlie and broke down all over again.
“Where is he? Is he still here?” Her lips shivered in anger and fear.
“No, he is gone. He’s been taken care of.”
The words seemed lost on her.
“Is he gone? Is he really gone?”
Charlie held her tighter. “Yes, honey. He’s gone. Your brother took care of him.”
Ellie allowed a heartbeat of a break between her sobs.
“My brother?”
“Yeah.”
Ellie gave a nod, slowly coming back to herself.
“That man. He cut my clothes.”
“Did he . . ?”
“I don’t think so . . . I mean . . . I wouldn’t know,” she said shyly.
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Believe me. If he had, you would know.”
Jace found himself pacing outside when the main door opened. Charlie walked Ellie out, her shoulder around her.
“Give her a few minutes. We need to walk over to the women’s section for a bit and sort some things out.”
Jace nodded, the words stuck in his throat. He felt helpless. When they disappeared around the corner, he stomped back to their camping aisle. He hated feeling this way. There was nothing to do to get his mind unwrapped around it, except the cup of coffee he had left on the cooler. He set up the water to brew another pot. He slumped down into his seat and rubbed his eyes, upset at what had to be done. He wrestled with it realizing the only thing that was brewing was himself.
“What are we doing here?” Ellie was monotone, almost sounding like a zombie herself. All of the life that was once there was gone. She sat down on an office chair in front of the changing rooms, while Charlie was loading carts.
“What size pants do you wear?” Charlie asked. “I was guessing a five.”
“I’m a four.” She sounded like she was talking to herself. Her voice lacked any direction or focus.
“Well, we gotta go over some rules in the apocalypse, hun. And if we have to we’ll write them as we go along, okay?”
Ellie nodded, still fighting the dread in the pit of her stomach that would just not dissipate.
“Rule number one. No frilly dresses. Actually, no dresses at all.”
Ellie stifled a giggle. “Yeah, let’s start with the obvious ones.”
Charlie smiled. “With men, I learned one of the most important rules of thumb. Don’t you dare make it easy for them.”
She held up a pair of jeans and a packet of panties. “Let’s get you fixed up.
She pulled herself out of her dress and slipped into the jeans. They were a perfect fit, but still felt alien to her. She was so used to running around in skirts and dresses. She realized how little survival sense she had in this viral state of affairs. Any of those walkers could have grabbed her by the flowing fabric chasing behind her as she ran. She would have been caught like a fly in a spider’s web. That spider would not have wasted any time with her. She looked up at this Charlie. She seemed to know which way was up. She could learn a lot from her if she paid attention. She certainly seemed experienced enough. Wait a minute…
“Charlie have you ever been…”
Charlie stopped, frozen in her tracks. She did not want to answer, but felt compelled. She wanted to help this girl. Make her learn from her own personal mistakes.
“Once. Yes.” Her eyes were fierce in the dark. “But I learned how to protect myself.”
“I wish I was that strong.”
Charlie’s face turned grave.
“You see, that’s the thing about stuff that happens to you. It’s going to either make you strong or swallow you whole. But you have to decide.”
Ellie nodded. She wanted to be strong. She knew that if the world was going to keep dumping on her like this, she was going have to be strong. There was little choice in the matter. She pulled the T-shirt over her head that Charlie had just proffered her.
Yes, she would choose to be strong.
It was HOT.
The air burned in his lungs with each breath he took. The suns warmth increasing the closer he got towards the black and orange building which had been beckoning him from his perch on top of the hill. His throat had been parched for miles now and his stomach was growling ferociously for being denied the tasty flesh of the rotting corpse he passed a mile back. The hunger was growing exponentially. He needed to feed and soon...before his own stomach turned on him. He could imagine it now…the only death he wouldn’t be able to escape would unfortunately be by the hands of his own damn stomach growing what one would imagine as a set of ghastly teeth and feasting on his spine in protest.
The sound of a small engine racing towards him reached his ears at the same time a mirage appeared on the horizon. A flat top canopy was connected by a frame going down towards the main body of a cart. It was small and compact…whatever it was. The driver was arched over the steering wheel, hugging it as his only lifeline.
The smell of gasoline began burning in his nose, but a smell much, much sweeter hung in the air, tempting him to swipe his tongue out between his lips. Tingling the taste buds on his tongue, teasing him all the more. A growl of approval echoed from his stomach at the hopes of a fresh meal.
Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles Page 21