by Stevie Kopas
“I refuse to just sit here. Ben wouldn’t want that. I don’t want that. You hear me?”
Catherine nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Just tell me what to do.”
II
Michelle followed Drake and his goons back down to the main lobby.
“Step into my office.” Drake pointed Michelle in the direction of what was once a General Manager’s office. The glass walls were covered by grimy sheets, hung haphazardly with duct tape. She crept toward the room, peeking back at Drake who was whispering something to his right hand man, Freeman. He noticed her watching and he waved his hand. “Get.” He pointed at the office.
She entered the room and scrunched her nose at the smell: a combination of latex, blood, and body odor. She felt the acid creep up her throat and she swallowed it back down, willing the contents of her stomach to stay where they were. It was dark; the windows overlooking the front lot had also been covered.
Drake flipped a switch on the wall and to Michelle’s surprise, harsh fluorescent lighting filled the room.
“Generator,” she said, “nice.”
“Have a seat.” He closed the door and motioned toward one of the leather office chairs. It was stained to kingdom come.
“I’m good, think I’ll stand.”
“I insist,” Drake ordered.
Michelle cringed as she sat, but figured she’d had worse on her clothes at some point in time.
Drake pulled two tumblers from a cabinet and a half-empty bottle of Cognac. He poured two drinks, the brown liquor sloshing over the sides as he brought one over to her.
“Cheers.” He raised his glass and she followed suit.
“Cheers,” she mumbled and downed the drink, hoping it would help dull her sense of smell.
“So, let’s talk shop, shall we?” He leaned against the large oak desk in the room, his arms crossed, eyeing her up and down again. His demeanor was different when he wasn’t in the presence of the other men. He still had an air of arrogance and authority, but more professional. He was like a quiet storm, cool and collected on the outside, but the threat of danger was just under the surface. “You’ve lasted this long, so, you clearly know how to handle yourself. I don’t see you as the type to rely on others. Definitely not the crew you rolled up here with, anyway.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”
“You were sure quick to turn on them, huh? What’d they do to you?”
“They were nothing to me. It was only a matter of time before they got themselves killed, or worse, got me killed. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”
Drake squinted and nodded, pouring her another drink. She accepted it, and downed it the same as the first. He chuckled and slammed the bottle down on the desk before her. He raised an eyebrow and pushed the Cognac toward her. She was making this too easy for him.
Michelle smirked and picked up the bottle, helping herself.
“So, opportunity, huh?” Drake sipped his drink. “Tell me a little bit about this opportunity.”
She swallowed the Cognac, savoring it this time. “You’re organized, you’ve got manpower. You’ve got a good setup here.” She pointed at the ceiling. “I saw for myself up on the roof.”
Drake nodded in agreement.
“You’re not sitting around playing house, hoping for the best and avoiding the worst,” she continued. “The world’s fucked. Ya’ll have accepted that, obviously.” She leaned back in the leather chair and crossed her legs, taking another swig from the bottle. “In fact, you’re embracing the dead, using them to your advantage. You’re not afraid of them. I stopped being afraid of them a long time ago.” Her eyes seemed to glaze over with a sort of sadness. “They’ve been the only people I like being around.”
Drake considered what she said. They’d get along just fine.
“Stand up,” he barked at her.
Michelle stood up, her cold eyes bore into his.
Drake stepped toward her and kicked the leather chair away. It flew across the room and tumbled into the wall. Michelle jumped slightly but didn’t take her eyes off him. He shoved her back into the wall, and she grunted as she slammed flat against it.
She shivered.
He placed his broad forearm against her chest and pushed. Fear briefly flickered in Michelle’s eyes as he leaned forward, his face only an inch from hers.
“Let’s get one thing straight, you and I.” He sneered at her, leaning slightly to his right and grabbing hold of one of the sheets covering the exterior windows. He tore it free and daylight flooded the room, the crowd of eaters in the front lot turned in unison once they spotted the movement. Their eyes fell on Drake and Michelle and they went hysterical; fists clamored on the shatterproof glass and they snarled and screamed. The window was barely chest-level with the eaters. They struggled against one another as they tried to raise themselves up in a futile attempt to get closer to their tasty meals.
Drake turned back to Michelle. “You ever turn on me like you did your friends, and you’ll be doing a lot more than watchin’ those flesh-eating fucks out there through a window.”
Michelle said nothing, simply nodding instead, a sadistic smile creeping across her face.
Drake grabbed her by the hair, pulling her mouth onto his. Michelle fumbled with unbuttoning her pants and their tongues danced as he pulled her away from the wall. He pulled her shirt over her head and turned her around, slamming her face-down onto the desk.
She cried out, whether with pleasure or pain, Drake didn’t care.
As he undid his belt buckle with one hand, he pulled her head up by her hair with the other, so that she was face-to-face with the savage undead just beyond the safety of the glass.
Michelle laughed as he entered her, her eyes upon the gathered dead. Even in her solitary moments with them back at the tower, she’d never felt this way.
She’d never felt so wanted.
Michelle laughed until she cried.
***
Veronica watched Michelle and the skinheads emerge from the stairwell. Michelle entered a private office as Drake spoke to Freeman, their captor. Both men looked their way and sneered. Veronica felt her blood start to boil again. She glanced at Catherine, who’d witnessed the exchange, as well. A look of disgust came over her face.
“Motherfuckers,” Catherine said, brushing a lock of red hair from her eyes. “They’re out there talking about us.”
“They’re doing it on purpose,” Veronica replied. “Tryin’ to get a rise out of us.”
Drake disappeared into the office after Michelle and shut the door.
Freeman leered at Veronica and Catherine. He licked his lips and called out to one of the other men. “Cage!”
A stocky man with no shirt, his face covered with tattoos, emerged from one of the rooms that held the unconscious women and sauntered over to Freeman.
“What’s up?” He pulled his belt through its buckle and fastened it, lighting a joint.
Veronica could no longer hear the men or read their lips as they leaned close to one another, speaking in hushed voices. Whatever it was, they discussed it in great detail and Veronica soon grew bored watching them. She went back to her seat on the desk, crossing her legs. She leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing herself out of the room.
A few moments later, Catherine jumped from the floor. “They’re coming, what’s the plan?”
Veronica hopped down from the desk, facing the glass again. The smug men strolled toward them. “Keep it cool, we’re gonna get out of here. We just need to get past them and out that back door, whatever it takes. Everybody else seems preoccupied. We can handle the two of them.”
Catherine wringed her hands, “God, you sound so sure.”
Veronica bit her lip. “I’m not.”
The lock clicked and the door opened inward. Freeman and Cage stepped inside.
Catherine instinctively wrapped her arms around Veronica, as if trying to shield her from an unavoidable danger.
Freeman
snickered. “Don’t be scared, ya’ll. Cage and me just wanna show you around, make you feel… more at home.” The words rolled off of Freeman’s filthy tongue in a manner that sent shivers down Catherine’s spine.
“You’re not touching her.” Catherine stepped in front of Veronica; her short stature didn’t come close to shielding the taller teen, but it was all she could do to put as much space between the skinheads and Veronica as possible.
“Ah, now that ain’t fair,” Cage chimed in. “We’re a real close group around here. We share everything.” He sucked his meth-rotted teeth and moved forward, placing a firm hand on Catherine’s shoulder.
Catherine pulled away and instinctively shoved Cage back. The man stumbled slightly, but countered the shove with a hard slap. Catherine’s small frame impressively bore the blow, and she shoved harder this time, with all her weight. Cage fell back into the glass wall and stumbled.
Freeman reacted quickly, lunging for Catherine, grabbing her by the throat. Veronica, even quicker than Freeman, delivered a swift kick to his balls. The skinny man doubled over in pain, whimpering like a puppy. Cage rebounded off the wall and caught Catherine by the hair, snapping her head back as the woman attempted to run from the office. She fell hard to the grimy carpet and let out a cry.
The commotion in the office had piqued the curiosity of the other men in the building, but rather than join in an attempt to subdue the two captives, the men cheered the fight on. Some whooped and hollered while others whistled and clapped.
Veronica kicked Cage in the face, sending three rotting teeth flying from his mouth. She grabbed Catherine and pulled her to her feet.
Catherine pulled Veronica toward the door. “Now’s our chance!”
Veronica stopped and looked down at Freeman, still reeling from the blow to his nethers. She kicked him in the side, hard, just as he’d done to her in the parking lot. The rage inside insisted that she give him another kick. So she did.
And that second kick turned into a third, and then a fourth.
“Veronica!” Catherine cried.
She saw a flash of movement to her right and it was followed by a harsh blow to her face. Veronica saw stars as she flew backwards and landed on the desk behind her. She quickly regained her composure and saw Cage upright, blood dripping from his fetid mouth. Her head throbbed from where he’d punched her and her rage intensified. Catherine screamed. Cage charged toward Veronica and she grabbed the closest thing to her left.
A pen.
Veronica let the man’s heavy frame slam into her, sending them both soaring over the desk and crashing to the floor on the other side. Veronica struggled, but finally rolled atop the stout man. Cage gurgled as she pulled the pen from his neck, sending an impressive jet of blood up the wall. She plunged the pen into his neck again and again, until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he lay motionless, the gurgling finally subsiding.
Before she could move again, there were hands on her, pulling her from his corpse. She kicked and screamed. She was an animal.
The men who had her in their grasp dragged her from the office and threw her to the tile floor of the lobby. Catherine landed next to her in a sobbing heap.
Veronica felt a sharp pain in her side as a boot buried itself in her frame. She thought she might black out as she felt her ribs crack under the weight of the boot.
A door slammed open somewhere.
Drake was screaming.
Veronica, covered in Cage’s blood, looked up at him and laughed.
III
“What in the fuck is goin’ on out here?” Drake hollered as he charged from his office, the buckle on his pants swinging as he struggled to zip his jeans.
Freeman, battered and breathless from the struggle, pointed at the two women on the floor. “This bitch attacked us! She killed Cage!”
Veronica giggled uncontrollably on the tile. Catherine, tears streaming down her face, urged Veronica to stop.
“You think this shit is funny, do ya?” Drake stomped up to Veronica and grabbed her under her arms, pulling her up to face him.
Veronica bit her lip and stifled another laugh. Drake, outraged, grabbed her by her throat and launched her back to the floor. Veronica landed hard on her tailbone and winced, collapsing to the tile. Catherine gathered her in her arms.
Movement caught Veronica’s eye from the office behind Drake and she looked up. Michelle peered out at the unfolding scene in the lobby, her eyes meeting Veronica’s. Michelle tried to hide her slight smile.
Veronica glared back at Michelle and screamed, “Skank!”
“Seems we need to teach you two a lesson.” Drake folded his arms across his enormous chest and cocked his head. “Whaddya think, boys?”
Drake’s men hooted and hollered as Freeman pulled Veronica out of Catherine’s arms. “Looks like this is a first for us, ya’ll. Two feedings in one day!” Freeman egged on the crowd of men as he manhandled Veronica toward the stairwell.
“Get this one up to the roof, King.” Drake barked at a muscular man behind him. “Show her what happens when you misbehave around here. I’ll be up in a minute.” He motioned toward the stairwell.
Catherine shrieked as King grabbed hold of her. She called out to Veronica but was met with a slap by her captor. He hauled her off, following closely behind Freeman.
Drake reentered the office, grabbing Michelle by the waist, pulling her into him. “Damn girl, you sure know who to bring to the fuckin’ party.” He kissed her hard and shoved her back when he was through. “I ain’t finished with you yet, but I got business to take care of.” He pulled on a clean shirt, a size too small, and turned back toward the door. “Come on, lemme show you how real men solve problems.”
Michelle nodded and followed him from the room. Her head swam from the Cognac and the brief sexual encounter with Drake. She attempted to smooth her wild curls back before tying them up in a ponytail. Her heart raced and she could feel butterflies in her stomach again as she climbed the steps to the roof. They were different butterflies this time, not the nervous ones she’d felt before.
She felt excitement.
She hadn’t felt this alive in a very long time. Michelle felt like maybe she’d finally found the perfect home at the end of the world.
***
Up on the roof, Freeman held Veronica tightly by her wrists, forcing her to look out into the front lot at the wailing dead below her. Veronica’s mouth was a line as she stared into the vacant eyes of the eaters. A grisly pile lie at their feet. Veronica refused to cry as she came to the realization that was all that was left of Ben.
After everything they’d all been through. That was all that was left.
Veronica felt a burning in her chest, thinking back on that pile of remains in Emerald Park.
Samson.
She thought of the lifeless shell, lying in the streets of Columbia City.
Isaac.
She remembered the dead eater on the floor of her living room.
Dad.
The burning in Veronica’s chest became unbearable and she screamed. Freeman, startled by the outburst let go of one of her wrists. Veronica swung her fist up and it connected with Freeman’s jaw. Freeman countered with a strike, splitting Veronica’s bottom lip.
“Stop it!” Catherine screamed.
Veronica attempted to hit Freeman again, but he twisted her arm up behind her back, bringing her to her knees. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed it forward. “I can’t fuckin’ wait for you to meet your new friends.”
Veronica touched her tongue to her swollen lip and winced. The eaters screamed wildly, staring up at her. She wished they’d get it over with. She wished she could leap from the roof and feed the dead herself. She had reached her limit, she was tired of this disgusting world.
Freeman greeted Drake as he finally made his way onto the roof followed by Michelle.
“She’s just a girl,” Catherine pleaded with the men. “You can’t do this!”
Drake sighed,
ignoring Catherine as he approached Veronica. She looked up at him and he brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face. She scowled.
“What a damn shame,” he said, shaking his head. “You probably would have been real useful around here.” He chuckled. “But you killed one of my men and trashed my fuckin’ house. That shit don’t sit well with me.”
“I don’t really care how that sits with any of you.” Veronica fired back, spitting on his boots.
Drake’s nostrils flared as he looked down at her. He clenched his teeth and balled up his fists. Catherine continued to scream and beg behind him, only making matters worse. Enraged, Drake shoved Freeman out of the way and grabbed Veronica by her shirt, launching her backward. She rolled on the gravel and was once again in Freeman’s grasp.
“Get her ass over here so I can shut her up!” he yelled to King, pointing at Catherine.
“Catherine.” Veronica’s voice was barely a whisper as she watched King drag her friend over to Drake.
“You want her alive so goddamn bad, then so be it, lady.” Drake grabbed a fistful of Catherine’s short, red hair and she yelped in pain. As Drake lifted the petite woman in his arms, ready to launch her into the growling mob of eaters, Michelle interrupted.
“Wait!”
Drake turned to her, his face twisted in anger.
“She’s a doctor.” Michelle put her hands up, defending her statement. “She’s more useful alive than she is dead. Both of them are.” Her eyes flicked to Veronica, the teen shooting her a look of contempt. “Use this one as leverage—” she pointed at Veronica, “—and the doc will do whatever you need.” She nodded, reassuring Drake to trust in her words.
Drake sighed, tossing Catherine back toward King. He pulled her face toward his and raised an eyebrow. “Is this true? You a doctor?”