Least Likely To Survive

by Lisa Biesiada

  I stopped to consider its words. I didn’t say anything, just sat and stared as more drops of gelatinous condensation glided down its face. It wiped them away, leaving a smear of sugar in their wake that sparkled like diamonds clinging to blades of grass after the rain. It was right, of course, and I hated It that much more for it. I’d long suspected there was no real reason for the shit I kept encountering, and my ignorance and refusal to act were really just doing no more than letting the current sweep me along.

  It melted for a moment in a little umber puddle, and glided Its way closer to me. Caught up in the crystalline trail of matter left in its wake, I almost missed its next words. “You have to find your way back. You have to stand up and fight. Stop running from the demons battling within you, and starting fighting back. There is no greater glory than winning the wars we wage within ourselves.”

  I really hated when talking dessert was right. It just stuck the knife a little deeper in my chest at having all my short comings laid out bare in front of me by a complete stranger. It really wasn’t fair that this dude could see inside me so deeply, I was more exposed than I had ever been in my life.

  Running my finger along the surface of the rock I sat upon, I looked over at the sweetly sleeping curls of cords that sighed and chuckled in their dreams. Wishing I could sleep that soundly or deeply, but knowing that the nightmares that had been haunting me would never grant me that level of serenity. I felt a tear slide down my cheek as it all came undone. I didn’t know if it was the creature’s words, or just my sudden acceptance of all the things I had spent so long trying to ignore. Suddenly all the lies, and chains I had been weaving so carefully throughout the years started to unravel and I was left choking on the air coming into my lungs. How many lies and deceits had I been holding onto? Cloaking myself in the armor of the tragic and unfortunate events that made up the core of my memory, twisting me into something I didn’t even recognize anymore.

  “Do you see now?” Its words cut through the din of thoughts that had been screaming in my head, and I looked up, surprised it was still standing there.

  “Yeah,” Coughing, I cleared the lump from my throat, “yeah, I get it.” I had to get out of here. My class would start soon, and I hadn’t even started that stupid paper.

  Wait, no, that can’t be right… My thoughts turned again, and became muggy. Where was I going again? I couldn’t shake the feeling that none of this was right, and there was somewhere, and someone that I desperately had to get back to. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on any of it.

  Pushing myself down the side of the rock, I slid down the boulder until my feet touched the damp earth below. I straightened my shirt from where it had ridden up, and turned to face Mr. Jell-O. “So which way?”

  He melted into a little puddle and dripped down the rock after me, landing at my feet. Wordlessly he undulated across the forest floor, and just before disappearing behind a tree across from me, he stopped and turned to look back at me. “Find the door. The door will have the answers.” With that he continued around the trunk, slithering from my sight.

  I stood and stared at the empty space it had been occupying just seconds earlier; stumped. What fucking door? Fucking cryptic bastard. Shaking my head in irritation I started forward, taking myself deeper into the forest.

  The sunlight trickled through the canopy of flower blossoms and leaves above my head, and it cast strange shadows on the soil and dried leaves crunching under my feet. My head became muggy, and suddenly my limbs started to become heavy to the point I felt like I was trudging through mud. My focus blurred to where I could no longer recognize the objects around me; just their general shapes and colors. A wind glided around me, bringing with it the cloying scent of the Ramen that could always be smelled cooking in the neighbor’s apartment. Familiar and distant, I lost my footing for a moment at the distraction, and almost slammed into the large wooden door in front of me.

  Pushing myself back from the grainy planks in front of me so I could see it better, I realized this is what the creature had been talking about. Running my hands along its surface, I searched for a handle, or a knocker or anything giving a hint at how to open it. Nothing. I pushed my full weight against it in the hopes that maybe it pushed open, but still nothing. The damn thing wouldn’t budge. I stood and stared at it, as if willing it to open with my very thoughts. When it did nothing but stand there in all its High And Mighty Woodiness, I turned and leaned my back against it. Bending my knees, I let myself sink to the ground below my feet. I was just so tired. I decided I could take a nap right here, and when I woke up, I would figure out how to open the damn thing. I set my spatula across my lap, and took my cap off, setting it on the ground next me, closed my eyes, and drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 18: A Turn for the Worse.

  Thump, thump. Thump, thump. I woke with the vague suspicion my heart was now pounding within the grey matter of my skull. I knew that couldn’t be right though, and cracked an eyelid. I was met with near darkness all around my cell.

  My cell… I was alive. I was suddenly accosted with the memory of Ian injecting me with whatever the fuck that was, and the ensuing acid trip it led me on. I’d done a lot of drugs, and been on a lot of trips, but that was by far the strangest fucking thing I had ever conjured up. I could still see the teeth of the flowers and Mr. Jell-O in my mind.

  Shaking my head, I threw my legs over the side of the cot, and heaved myself into an upright position. No sooner than I got vertical did my stomach decide to let me know it wasn’t pleased, and forced me to fly off the cot and land over the stainless steel toilet. All the contents of my stomach were spilled forth to the point where I was pretty sure I turned inside out. After the heaving ceased, I just sat there, with my head resting on the seat trying to remember how to breathe.

  I stared into the bowl, watching the bile swirl slowly to the bottom, led by the trail of spit still hanging from my lips. I let the tears fall in earnest at that point; facing the fact that I had just been grossly violated, and didn’t even know by what. I missed Jack and the kids, and was losing hope I’d see them again. I was stuck in a cell, with no way out, and no way to let them know I hadn’t abandoned them. The sobs continued to retch themselves from my body, as though I were being cleansed and prepared for a future ritual.

  Eventually the tears stopped falling, and I felt the dried tracks of salt left on my cheeks. I breathed in, and could only smell the bile still floating in the bowl, and the antiseptic the toilet had last been cleaned with. I sat up, and reaching for the roll of paper, tore off a piece to blow my nose and wipe my mouth with. I dropped it into the bowl and pulled the lever to flush. I pushed myself off the cold tile floor and using the toilet for stability, got to my feet. I shuffled to the nearby sink and turned the water on. After twisting the single knob, I discovered the water only ran cold; which suited me just fine. I cupped my hands under the drizzle and drank deep, splashing more of the icy stuff on my face until I felt almost human again. I stood leaning on the sink, gripping the sides so hard my knuckles turned white, as I watched the water drip off my face into the steel basin below.

  Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I grudgingly made my way back over to the cot. I sat down and focused on just breathing. I wanted to scream out my frustration at being caged, but knew it wouldn’t do me any good. What the fuck had I done to warrant this? Wouldn’t it be more productive to experiment on the actual zombies if Ian was really trying to find a cure for the infection? It seemed kind of obvious to me, but then again, maybe that wasn’t his intent at all. I wasn’t even sure why he viewed me as such a threat; I was just a girl trying to get the fuck out of the nightmare the world had turned into; what the fuck made me so goddamned special?

  I knew I wasn’t going to find the answer to that question with no one else around to comment. I leaned back against the cement wall and tucked my feet underneath me, while I considered my options. Now that my stomach felt somewhat better, I found myself once again inspecting my
little cell. Still just four walls, but the lights had been turned off and the only thing new were the shadows cast along the walls from the dim light streaming through the tiny window in the door. In the dark, the cell looked colder, and I couldn’t stop the chills that were trailing down my spine. I was tired and I was scared, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

  Giving a little sigh, I squinted harder and peered around the room. After a few seconds I relaxed my face and just stared openly. I could see! I could see perfectly and clearly and still did not have my glasses. Given the almost complete blackout of the room, I could perfectly make out every notch in the bricks lining the walls. “What the hell…?” Well I’ll be damned; Ian had cured bad eyesight. Too bad he would never know that for all his nefarious planning, his discovery could have changed modern optometry, but given the current state of world affairs, it was all for naught.

  Normally, I would have been elated that I no longer needed glasses to see, but couldn’t muster any excitement about it. I closed my eyes and lay back down. My head was still pounding, and I had no idea how much longer I would have to rest before they came back. Rolling onto my side, I put my back against the cold stone wall and replayed the events of the last few hours.

  Thinking back on my fun little acid trip, I evaluated what I’d been doing and what Mr. Jell-O had said to me. It was pretty obvious it was my subconscious’ way of rehashing the apocalypse up until that point, and the symbolism wasn’t lost on me. I knew the things the creature had said were true, and all stuff I needed to own up to and face, but damned if I just wasn’t ready to do that now.

  Thoughts drifting, I mulled over the horrible ache in my chest at missing Jack. In just a few short days he had come to mean everything to me, and the idea that I would never see him again twisted my insides to the point I couldn’t breathe. Picturing his crooked smile in my mind, I felt the tears start to slide down my nose and puddle onto the musty mat below me. I had been alone so long I didn’t even realize how much I needed someone around. I found it somewhat ironic that it was only at the end of the world that I discovered the benefits of human companionship. His face was still at the forefront of my mind as I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  I felt more than heard the sound of footsteps approaching my cot. I kept my breathing even as I opened one eye. I again had no idea how long I had been asleep, but figured it couldn’t have been too long as the lights were still out.

  In the dim light I could make out the shape of a large, stocky man creeping towards me. Peering into the darkness, his shape was a hulking silhouette, and it was only when his face was inches from mine that I recognized him as one of the guards who had been there when Ian was poisoning me.

  “You’re not very pretty, but you’ll do,” He whispered into my face as he stroked my hair. Bile rose into my throat at the stink of his breath on my skin, and I felt my stomach bottom out at the intent of his words. My pulse sped and for a brief moment I thought I might puke again. I knew what this fucker was going to do, and the blind panic set in.

  I sat up so fast I banged my head against the wall. “Get the fuck away from me!” I spat into his face while scrambling as far into the corner as I could.

  His features twisted in anger, he growled something I couldn’t make out and yanked me back by my hair. Even in the dark, I could see he was nothing spectacular. Brown hair cropped short, and eyes the color of mud. He wasn’t attractive, or ugly, just plain. The only thing notable was the horrible glint in his eyes, and the smirk on his face. I knew what he was going to do; hell, it wasn’t the first time I had been in this situation, but I definitely wasn’t going to go without a fight.

  He grabbed my shirt and tried to twist me around while I continued to fight him. “This will be a lot easier for you if you don’t fight me,” he growled as he struggled with the button on my pants.

  For all my kicking, I couldn’t land the right angle, so I half turned and punched him right in the face. I wasn’t sure how effective it had been until the blood started pouring out of his nose.

  “You fucking cunt! You’re going to pay for that!” He wiped his arm across his face, smearing a trail of blood across his cheek. Before I could wind up for another hit, he pulled his arm back and a giant fist came crashing at me. Shooting, blinding pain exploded across my cheek from where he hit me, and I almost blacked out from the impact. I was pretty fucking sure he had broken something, but knew the moment I stopped fighting, I was done for.

  “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” I half screamed, half cried as I reached towards his face again, this time with fingers bent. I felt my nails find purchase in his greasy flesh, and dragged them down, trying to cause as much damage and pain as possible. He pulled my hand off his face with a grunt, and twisted my arm so hard behind my back I wondered if my shoulder would relocate. Pausing in his attempt to undo my zipper, he pulled his other arm back and hit me again, this time landing a direct hit to my mouth. My lips caught my teeth, and my mouth filled with blood. There was so much of it trying to run down my throat, I started to choke. The choking forced me to briefly stop struggling against him, and terror welled up as he finally managed to get my pants down past my knees, while flipping me all the way onto my stomach.

  I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t cough; all I could do was try to spit out as much of the blood pulsing from my mouth as the horror of it all set in. My muscles froze up from fear, and I started to sob when I heard him spit on his hand. “Not again, this can’t be happening again…” I thought desperately until I felt him shove his cock so hard into me that I felt something tear.

  My face was shoved into the mattress so violently, I was having a hard time breathing past the blood and tears. With every thrust, I felt him grunt his triumph, as the fire in me slowly died. The pain was so intense, I wanted to pass out, and would gladly give up consciousness to not be in my body right now. I wanted to float up out of my skin and fly so far from this place that I would never find it again. I had been here before, and I swore to myself I would never let it happen again, but found that for all my fight, there wasn’t anything I could do; he was stronger.

  With a final shove, I felt the warm sensation of semen filling my insides, and he pulled out of me. All I could do was lay there and cry as I felt the leftovers mixed with blood trail down my thighs.

  I heard his zipper behind me as he pushed off me and stood. “Fucking whore, you know you loved that,” the hatred poured out of him with his words; this was a man who hated women. I thought that he would just leave now that he was finished, but I was wrong.

  He dragged me off the cot to the ground and started kicking me anywhere his boot could find purchase. Still crying, I curled up into a ball, using my arms and hands to protect my head and face as much as possible. Kick after kick rained down on me, and I actually wished for death. He didn’t say anything, just kept kicking and kicking, and each time his boot made contact, I wondered if that was going to be the hit that ended me. After a while, I started to go numb and hoped to God that I passed out soon. Just as I was sure he was going to beat me to death, he landed a kick to my head so hard, I actually watched the blackness fade in around me, and thankfully, finally, lost consciousness.

  “Angela, wake up.” The words trickled to my ears in a whisper soft as a gentle breeze. I felt hands rubbing my back as I started to wake. “Angela, are you still with us?” without opening my eyes, I recognized the voice belonging to Dr. Fields. Still lying on the cold tile of my cell, I curled further into a ball and the tears started again. There wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t screaming in pain; I knew things were broken, and was sure one of my eyes wasn’t going to open even if I tried.

  The memories of what had happened swarmed around me, still visceral and as real as if they were still occurring. I could still feel his hands ripping my clothes as I fought. I fought. Crying harder, the idea sickened me that for all my strength, for all the zombies I had killed, I couldn’t fight off one determined stranger. Foolishly thinking that the dru
g I had been given was the worst violation; I was terribly wrong. That was the frosting on the fucked up cake of what had been done to me.

  Not the first time. Not the first time I had been beaten and raped, but the last time I was so far gone I was hardly aware of what was happening. Last time the drugs were flowing freely through my veins, subduing my awareness to the point I didn’t care. And here I was thinking that I never wanted to be that high again; leave it to some villainous Neanderthal to prove me wrong.

  I couldn’t say anything, just lay there sobbing quietly while I felt the doctor cleaning me up. She dragged a cold rag between my legs to mop up the evidence of my assault. She poked and prodded my ribs and limbs, and all I could do was whimper. I had never felt so defeated, and wanting to die; every ache that became apparent solidified my need to leave this world. Fuck this; I didn’t want to live in a world where even during an apocalypse, people still felt the need to turn on each other. I hoped the zombies stormed this place and ate every last motherfucker in here. We all deserved to die for our sins; myself included.

  Apparently finished with her examination, Dr. Fields yanked and twisted my pants back up, and set me to rights. She ran a hand down the side of my face, and it was then I decided to meet her eyes.

  Opening the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, I glared up at her from the floor. I knew it wasn’t entirely her fault, but as she was the only person around, I aimed all of my hate into that one look.

  Her face looked tired and old; deep lines were etched around her eyes and her mouth, and I couldn’t help but notice the look of defeat she held. This woman had been beaten into submission as well, although probably not in the same fashion as I had been. There was a faded greenish-yellow welt on her cheek, and tears had started to pool up in the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Angela. This was never supposed to happen,” she whispered as she gently caressed my face. I wanted to hate her, but couldn’t find the strength. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and rolled back over.