by Geoff Brown
“It-it’s not against her will. That’s where she lives,” Amos screamed in frustration.
“Why does she live there?” I screamed back
“The Rev won’t let her into the rest of the house. She’s crazy,” Steve said, eyeing Suzie nervously. “A total fucking nut job.”
I wondered now who he was talking about – Suzie or the girl – or both.
I strode over to Steve and squatted beside him. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about the house or Suzie here will pretend she’s Captain Kirk and you will take the full brunt of her wrath. Phasers set to kill. Photon torpedoes. The whole fucking nine yards.”
One glance toward Suzie, whose eye seemed to be screwing out of her face, and Steve was spilling everything he knew. We found out a lot. Maybe too much. When he mentioned the monster in the barn, that made us all stop and wonder what the hell was going on.
* * *
They hadn’t actually seen the monster, but they knew it existed because of its howling. Turned out Amos and Steve had only been with the Tribe for two weeks. They hadn’t suitably progressed far enough for the Rev to tell them everything. But the relationship between the girl and the Rev was definitely a strange thing. They weren’t allowed anywhere near the girl, but had brought her food on several occasions, which they left for her at the top of the basement stairs.
Rolando, last name unknown, was the barn master. He handled the horses and apparently the monster. Carl Upchurch was his assistant. Wherever Rolondo went, Carl was at the man’s side.
Emma Driscoll, Frank Spatz, and Sara Wong took care of the day-to-day runnings of the house.
And the Rev, well, he didn’t seem to do too much at all. He stayed in his rooms on the top floor and had his food brought to him, except for Sunday services. As it turned out, he was called the Rev for a reason. It seemed he had been an actual Catholic priest before the invasion. I was frankly stunned he was still practicing. After all, if one were to believe in a god, you’d have to figure that a total fucking invasion of the planet might be enough reason to show yourself and save your worshippers. But that argument was for another day.
“We just going to leave them here?” Crefloe asked.
It was getting on toward night. I’d stayed longer than I’d wanted. I stared at the naked prisoners sitting on the ground. I know what I should do to them, but I didn’t want to do it. Arguably, what was another stain on my soul? I was already a mosaic of what I’d seen and done. Still, killing them was unnecessary and I wasn’t going to do it.
“WWWSD,” Suzie said under her breath. Her hands were balled at her sides. Her entire body was rigid, punctuated by a single furious dot of hate that had once been her eye. She wouldn’t stop repeating herself. She’d performed her part of the plan admirably, but somewhere along the way she’d lost what little sanity she had. “WWWSD?” she hissed.
What would William Shatner do indeed? He’d let them live. He’d put them in a position where they couldn’t do any harm, then let them live.
“We’re going to leave them.”
Crefloe nodded. “I can do them if you want me to,” he said, meaning if I was too soft to do it. “Don’t mean shit to me.”
“No, Cref. If I wanted them dead, I’d do it myself. Let’s leave these two alive. It certainly won’t hurt anything.” I knelt and stared Steve in the eyes. “You don’t owe the Rev any fealty. You don’t owe them nothing. If you want to live, you need to go away. Anywhere but here, understand?”
Steve and Amos both nodded.
“I don’t want to see you again.”
They both nodded again.
I stood, adjusting the strap of my pack on my back.
I heard a twig snap in the growing darkness of the woods. I slammed myself to the ground right as a shotgun blasted, chunking the tree I’d just been in front of.
I rolled to my left and brought my M4 up. I fired three controlled bursts – left, right, and middle – then rolled to my knees and put a thick tree between me and whatever was out there.
Crefloe ran into the woods behind me.
I wasn’t worried about him running away. He was probably going to circle back and try and get behind my attackers.
The shotgun fired again.
But as I aimed toward the spot, automatic gunfire erupted from a spot ten yards away, peppering the tree, digging divots in the earth. I felt a warm breeze on the side of my head, followed by a burning pain. Blood immediately began to seep free. I stood and dove deeper into the woods, rolling first right, then backwards, then left. I low crawled toward a wide tree and pulled myself behind it. I touched the side of my head and felt warm blood. I’d been grazed.
Then I realized that I’d left Suzie.
Shit!
I waited for the sound of movement.
One minute.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen minutes ticked past with only the sound of the wind in the trees.
Thirty minutes later, I began to pick my way back toward the clearing. When I got there, I noted that Steve and Amos were gone, their cut zipties in a pile where they’d sat. As was Suzie. There could be only one place they’d take her. And I’d go there, even knowing they were expecting me.
* * *
The barn was lit up like a Christmas tree. Two guards stood sentry at the main door. What I hadn’t expected were all the people. There must have been a hundred filing into the barn. The only explanation was that they’d come from other nearby homes.
What day was it, I wondered.
Was it Sunday?
Was that what this was all about?
Was the Rev going to have one of his services?
I’d bandaged the wound on the side of my head and then grabbed some mud to blacken my skin so its sheen would be dulled even in star light. I’d also stashed my pack in a hide site. I needed to move fast, and its bulk could only hamper me.
I’d also tried to call Crefloe but either his radio wasn’t working or he was intentionally ignoring my requests for conversation. He hadn’t seemed like the type to run away when things got tough. I could only hope that we could link up in time to try and save Suzie.
I shuddered as a memory shattered past, leaving me with a single image of a young girl, holding the hand of her mother whose body had been blown to bits. Everything completely unrecognizable as human except for her hand.
My damn memories were like old time South Central LA drive-bys, gang bangers drilling unsuspecting pedestrians with bullets. But instead of bullets, I got memories of all the shit I’d seen, my mind having taken snapshots, saving them for reliving later on. Lucky me. I’d trade them for bullets any day. A bullet was so much more preferable than a memory to the head.
Snapping myself out of my fugue, I moved along the inside of the tree line until the house was between the barn and me. I scanned the windows with my ACOG, putting the glowing reticle on each window, searching for movement. Seeing none, I crouched low and ran across the dark space until I was at the rear of the house. I pressed by back to it and listened. A minute ticked by. Nothing.
I slipped up the back steps and tried the door.
Locked.
I pulled out a roll of duct tape and placed an X on the window in the door. Then I applied a piece of tape to the window with my left hand to hold it and hammered the butt of the M4 into the glass with my right. A dull thud told me I’d failed to break the glass. I swung harder this time and was relieved to hear a crack. It took a moment, but I was able to pull the glass free of the window using the length of tape. I tossed the taped broken glass into the dark grass by the stairs, then reached in and unlocked the door. I moved quickly inside.
The air was redolent with the smell of onions.
I eased my way through the kitchen and into a living room. All empty, I padded softly up the stairs, listening intently for even the smallest sound. The master bedroom suite was indeed large. It smelled of medicine and sweat. The bedside table held a tray with various medic
ations including a syringe. Checking outside the window, I had a clear view of the barn. This had to be the window I’d seen the hand move aside the curtain. It must have been the Rev’s room. I vaguely wondered what was wrong with him?
I turned and my head erupted into a galaxy of stars. I fell sideways, my arm reaching out for balance, knocking over the meds.
A dark figure came on me, kicking me in the ribs.
I tried to bring my rifle to bear, but the strap was tangled around my right arm.
Another boot to the ribs, then I kicked out, catching my attacker on the side of the knee.
He stumbled back.
I started to climb to my feet, but he tackled me for my trouble.
He had a sheet in his hands and wrapped it around my face and head, then pulled me to the ground, positioning himself behind me.
My right arm trapped by my rifle, I flailed with my left, first trying to pull the sheet free. Unable to do that, I reached down and grabbed a knife from my belt. I stabbed at my attacker, but couldn’t get close enough. In desperation, I opened my mouth as wide as I could, then jammed the blade between my lips. The keen-edged K-bar parted the fabric which had been smothering me and tickled the tip of my tongue which I’d pulled as far back in my mouth as I could. I adjusted my grip on the knife, but felt a hand chop down on my wrist hard enough to make it go dead.
The knife fell free, clattering to the ground.
I began to kick frantically with my legs. Finding purchase on the stout wooden leg of the bed, I was able to push my assailant against the wall, pinning him there. I realized I had just enough freedom with my right arm that I could use the elbow, so I began to piston it into the man. He held onto the sheet, but I could tell his strength was waning.
I could breathe through the hole I’d made, but I was completely blind. All the while my right arm was elbowing him, my left hand was flailing for a weapon, anything I could use. Then my hand fell on the syringe. I grabbed it and was able to shift my body enough that I could slam it into soft flesh behind me. Once, twice, three times and buried the needle into my attacker’s soft parts.
He screamed and let go of the sheet.
I scrambled to my feet, ripping the sheet away. I fell once, but picked myself back up and got my rifle around.
My attacker lay in a fetal position, the needle stuck into his crotch. In the light from the barn, I could see that it was the narrow-faced man I’d seen earlier. His mouth was open in wordless scream.
I spied my knife on the ground and snatched it up. I slit his throat from ear to ear, listening for the escaping air as it began to bubble the blood.
Fucker thought he had me.
I spit on him, then walked out the door.
* * *
Once I’d cleared the upper floor, I went to the basement. I found her standing, chained to a wall. I shined my light on her using the lowest setting. She wore a football helmet. Her mouth was covered with a gag. What the hell was going on with this girl?
She watched me approach with wide eyes.
“Can you hear me,” I asked softly.
She nodded.
“Can you understand me?”
She nodded again.
I checked the windows. They had heavy shades across them, so I braved more light. I flashed the light on her face and saw that something wasn’t right. I got closer and noticed wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Something about her eyes bothered me.
I reached in and removed her gag.
She licked her lips and coughed gently, then blinked her eyes at me, the straight lines of her lips curling into a gentle smile. “And who might you be? My knight in shining armor?”
I blinked. What had I just heard? That easily wasn’t the voice of a child.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Old enough to know a few ways to make you moan.”
I shook my head. The juxtaposition of the young girl and the words coming out of her mouth were stunning. But then she wasn’t a young girl, was she? Part of the reason I’d thought she was young was her stature. She couldn’t be five feet tall. Flat breasted with elfin features, she could easily be mistaken for a child. But this was no child. This woman was in her late thirties.
“Why the helmet?” I asked.
“Keeps me from hurting myself,” she said. She waggled her wrists, causing the shackles to clank against the stone wall. “I’m not happy with these without a safe word.”
I shook my head again. This was not at all what I’d expected. My idea was to grab the girl in the basement and publically trade her for Suzie, believing they’d want to keep the girl alive. But this… this was something different altogether. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to do with her.
“Are you going to stand there and undress me with your eyes,” she purred, “Or are you going to unchain me?”
I approached and removed the helmet. Her blonde pigtails were mussed much like bed head. She hooked a leg around mine and pulled me to her, so I could feel her bony frame beneath mine.
“I want you,” she breathed.
I felt myself growing hard and hated myself for it. My hard on was stranger because it wasn’t until a few seconds ago that I’d thought she was a little girl.
I pushed away from her angrily.
She eyed my crotch and smiled. “Is that for me?”
Bonkers. Totally. Fucking. Bonkers.
I turned away, trying to figure a way out of this, but there wasn’t one. I just had to get it over as quickly as possible. Suzie’s hissed WWWSD klaxoned through my mind, only to be replaced by an image of Shatner kissing green-haired Shayna from The Gamemasters of Triskelion in a chaste embrace, then dissolving into Kirk face sucking with the drop-dead gorgeous Deela from Wink of an Eye, then to Marta, green-skinned seductress from Whom the God’s Destroy body surfing Kirk’s chest, then finally to a five-foot blonde woman in a football helmet who looked like a fifth grader.
A shudder rattled through me.
I turned back around. “What’s your name?”
“DeLorean.”
“Like the car?”
“Yes, like the car.”
I pulled out zipties from my cargo pocket. “Okay then, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take you out of your shackles, but put these around your wrists.”
“Oh please,” she begged. “Can we have a safe word? Pretty please can we have one? Huh? Please?”
I sighed inwardly. “Tiberius is your safe word. If things get too scary or painful for you, Ms DeLorean, just say Tiberius.”
She blinked happily.
I removed the shackles, barely managing to keep her from kissing me or touching me. My traitorous hard on lingered, but I ignored it. I managed to hold her arms behind her back and snap the zipties around her wrists.
“We’re going to the party?” she asked.
“Not sure what we’re going to. I guess we’ll find out together.”
We hadn’t gotten but three steps when she stiffened, her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and her knees bent, making her fall. Because I was holding one of her arms, I was able to keep her from hitting the ground. I was barely able to reach around with my other arm before her entire body began to jerk and spasm. As I held her, I glanced over at the discarded helmet. Now I got it. Seizures. It was to protect her from bashing her own head in while she was chained to the wall. I held her for a good five minutes as the spasms finally slowed. She’d gnashed her teeth the whole time. I was afraid she’d swallow her tongue. Eventually she stilled, only her heaving chest evidence that she was still alive. I took the moment to put the helmet back on her head.
Several minutes later, her eyes fluttered open.
She looked at me, not as a sexual object, but as a person. “Tiberius,” she whispered.
“Are you okay?”
“I had a seizure didn’t I?” she asked.
“Yes. It looked pretty bad.”
“I can tell because all of my muscles feel as if I’d been
in a wrestling match against ten people and lost.”
“Do they come often?”
“Only when I get excited.”
“Then let’s not get excited.”
She seemed about to respond, but then her face went blank for a moment. Her lascivious smile returned. Her eyes narrowed. “Now that you have me here on the ground with my helmet on, don’t you want to finish what we started before?” She rubbed my crotch. “You can bang my head against the ground as hard as you want. I see you’re still flying the flag for me.”
“Tiberius,” I said, more forcefully than I wanted. I stood and hauled her to her feet. “Come on. I want to get this done.”
“Take me to your leader,” she whispered.
“That’s my line,” I said, then marched her up the stairs and out the door.
* * *
The two guards saw me coming and lifted their rifles.
I held DeLorean with my left hand and pressed the barrel of the M4 into her neck. I’d taped it in place with a roll of duct tape I’d wrapped several times around her neck as well as the barrel of my rifle. Duct tape was also wrapped around my hand and the trigger well, so I couldn’t let go even if I’d wanted to. She still wore her helmet. She was whispering to me as we walked, promising to do things to me I didn’t know were possible.
The guards looked at each other, unsure of what they were seeing.
“Hello, boys,” I said. “Got room for two more inside?”
They nodded and stepped aside. Clearly I hadn’t been part of their guard shift briefing.
We proceeded through a small door inset into the larger barn door. The first thing I noticed was that the barn was far larger than it should have been. The rafters above were cloaked in darkness. Bright generator-powered lights speared the rest of the interior, bathing it in an almost painful light. Someone had removed the floor and dug down at least fifty feet, making it more into an indoor theater, something from one of those old eighteenth century doctors’ pictures where a single person was at the bottom operating on a body, while a host of dozens looked on. But in this case, a man sat in a wooden throne at the bottom while a hundred other people in all form of dress stared eagerly in his direction, each one seated in stone-made benches formed in concentric circles from top to bottom.