Death Before Dawn

by Amelia Hutchins

  I could make out three men, but no sign of the person who was screaming. A tent was positioned a little ways back from the fire, which had something that smelled heavenly cooking in a Dutch oven. I shimmied down the tree, trying to decide if I should bypass it, or figure out where the crying and muffled sobs were coming from, because it sounded female, and there’d been no sign of one outside of the tent. My instincts told me to investigate, the same ones that had always been right before.

  I set my bag down, unwilling to fight with the extra weight attached to me, as I was still recovering from the stomach wound. I untied the thin metal wire that I had threaded through the belt loops of my pants, knowing that I’d have to get close before I knew the situation, and stealth might be my best option. I checked the knives at my waist, hidden beneath the shirt I wore, and started to tie my hair up, only to remember that most of it was gone. I swallowed and crept closer to the camp, securing my mask as I entered.

  “What the fuck,” one of the guys said; he was older, mid-forties, with a potbelly stomach and beady eyes. He had a gun draped over his shoulder, and a lustful look in his eyes as he took in my figure.

  “Mmm, new meat,” one of the other guys catcalled, a younger, mid-twenties guy who had greasy hair and food stuck in his goatee. “Kind of skinny, though.” He tilted his head to look me over slowly.

  “Guys,” another male called to them as he ducked out of the tent and looked at me. “Get her!” he snapped, and I smiled as I took in the blood and meat the man held in his hand. What the fuck?

  “You don’t want to do that,” I murmured, watching as fatboy advanced on me, as if he thought to overpower me. He swung out, expecting me to be slower than he was, and I dodged it, effortlessly moving behind him as I pulled the wire taut between my hands and wrapped it around his neck, dropping my weight as his friends watched. Normally, choking someone took time, but with a wire thread, it sliced through his carotid and soft tissue on his neck, killing him the moment I dropped my weight to the ground.

  I watched as he dropped, turning my eyes to the other two. The young guy moved swiftly, his hands darting out with blades I hadn’t seen him pull. I danced around them, listening as the air whooshed with each swing he took; I pulled my own blade and took a swing, slicing through his arm and then slicing him open from stomach to chest, and watched as he hit the ground.

  Once it was just me and the guy who’d emerged from the tent left, he whined like a bitch, begging and promising he could change his ways. I tied him up, using the wire to tie his wrists to the tree that was just at the edge of the camp. If he moved or tried to get away, he’d slit his own wrists. I made sure he knew it before I moved to the tent.

  What I found inside made my hope for humanity die. I stumbled from the tent, striding with purpose as I pulled the knives from their sheaths and shook my head. Tears blinded my eyes, and I had to fight to keep from throwing what little food I’d eaten back up.

  “You sick fuck!” I shouted through a sob that threatened to knock me to my knees; I was losing it. The little grasp of sanity that I still had was slowly slipping away. I felt like a monster. I wanted to slice him open, cut him to pieces, making sure he felt every fucking slice of the blade. “How could you!”

  “I was starving to death! I’m a doctor; I’m valuable! You need me alive. If you get hurt, I can help you!” His cunning eyes seemed to search mine as he tried different tactics for what he thought might work best.

  I pulled at my hair as I fought to not throw up. “If you’re a doctor, then you took an oath! Do no harm! Why?” I sobbed, and shook my head as I wiped my mouth off, trying to keep myself from losing it.

  He cried, shaking his head as he continued to beg and bargain for his worthless life. I left him there, tied to the tree, with only one option for escape: Suicide. I made my way back to the tent, my stomach churning with what I was going to have to do. This shit wasn’t fair.

  Once inside the tent, I pulled off my mask; sobs rocked my body as I struggled to contain them. The flap to the tent closed and the smell hit me. In the middle of it, laid out on display, was a woman who’d been badly mutilated. A propane lantern flickered, casting an eerie light on the macabre scene as her wild eyes looked at me. I shook my head; I couldn’t fix this. There was no medical way to fix the damage they’d done.

  She moaned with pain, and I felt hot tears burning in my eyes. They’d cut out her tongue to mute her screams and reduce the chance of attracting attention from miles away. The inside of her left thigh had been sliced open and cauterized after the meat had been taken; the other leg was gone from just below her knee. My eyes latched on to her thighs; tendons and ligaments had been removed and sutured with surgical precision. The ones you needed to…walk, or run away.

  “Ell me,” she moaned, and I lifted my eyes to her and shook my head.

  “I can’t heal this,” I rasped through the constriction of my throat. I couldn’t fix her legs; I didn’t know how.

  “Ell me!” she moaned again, trying to sit up, but her arms had been sliced open and sutured, just like her legs.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I cried. All of the fatty flesh was gone, missing; she had other patches of skin all over her body that looked crudely sewn, as if they were trying to keep her alive as long as they could.

  I sat back, my mind running scenarios because the one in my head just couldn’t be right. They’d strategically cut pieces from her and had used her for pleasure, judging by the way her legs were draped open, and the doctor had come out of the tent with his pants undone when I had surprised them.

  “Ell me,” she sobbed as her fingers stretched at odd angles as she reached for me. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. It knocked the wind out of me. I shook my head and left the tent, stumbling to get away from her. Once outside, I screamed with rage, pain, and the knowledge that I was going to go back in there to do as she asked.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?” The so-called ‘doctor’ sneered, having lost his need to beg. He needed to brag more, admiring his handiwork. He wanted praise for the monstrous thing he’d done.

  I fell to my knees as violent sobs tore through me. The level of fucked up shit they’d done to her was off the charts. I screamed with rage for every person who’d been assaulted from the start of the virus. Every inch of her body flashed through my mind on replay, and I doubled over and threw up. I heaved as tears ran down my face.

  When I was done, I stood up. I turned and looked at him, really looked at him. He was laughing. His eyes were wild, and he laughed as I could hear the woman moaning from the tent, broken and dying from what they’d done to her. I reached into my boot, pulled out a knife and walked slowly to him.

  “I could make you just as pretty,” he laughed.

  “Are there more like you?” I asked, needing to know. The three of them couldn’t have killed the people in the towns alone, not with how many people we’d found dead.

  “There are hundreds of us, maybe thousands; it’s a new world. The ones who hunt will get the best pick. I’m needed,” he cackled maniacally. “I can make them pretty, like her. Make them useful, live longer. They serve our needs, until they…don’t. Then we find new ones.” His voice trailed off dreamily.

  I bent down low, looking up at him as he watched me. “I don’t have a medical degree like you must have, but then again, I don’t intend on keeping you alive.” I sliced under his thigh just above the knee where the ligaments were, enjoying the scream that tore from his lungs. I matched it to his other leg, making sure to miss the artery. I took a few steps to the fire, picked up the metal poker that was red-hot, turned back to him, and closed the wounds. I listened as screams ripped from his lungs until he passed out from the pain.

  Once I was sure he wouldn’t bleed to death, I stepped back to the fire, threw the poker down, and looked back at the flap opening that hid the evil that had been done
to that poor woman behind it. I dropped to my knees, staring at the tent. I hadn’t felt anything while I’d sliced him open. Just cold, as if I’d become some kind of monster. Maybe this world belonged to them now, the monsters. Maybe I had to become one to survive this world.

  I fought to get to my feet as I slid the knife into its sheath and withdrew the 9mm. I entered the tent and sat down beside her, holding her hand as I looked at her. They’d torn her apart and sadistically abused her. She’d been their entertainment and dinner. I didn’t want to live in a world where people could do this to someone. I didn’t want my friends or family to live in it. It was sick. If these subhuman creatures were what was left of humanity, we were doomed.

  She didn’t moan again; she could see the tears streaming down my face as I looked at her. She wouldn’t survive what had been done to her for much longer. There was just no fucking way. She was broken; her arms were useless, and her legs would never allow her to carry weight again. If she even survived the infection that had probably already taken root in her body, she couldn’t protect herself from anything, and I couldn’t take her with me. There was no fucking way. I held her hand tighter as I brought the gun up and held it against her temple.

  “You’re sure? I can probably find help for you,” I whispered, seeing the resolve in her eyes. She shook her head and yet I still hesitated. It wasn’t like a mercy killing. She wasn’t crazy or violent. She was a fucking victim. She didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve to carry this burden. She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. The poor woman was in her late thirties, fit, and looked as if she’d been in good health before she’d fallen into this mess. “I hope there’s a heaven and hell, and I hope that when you get to heaven, you can sit in on judgement for those assholes. Know this: I killed them. They’ll never do this to anyone else again.” I pulled the trigger and flinched at the recoil of the gun. I’d lied. But it would be the truth, though, soon enough. I wasn’t letting the butcher of a ‘doctor’ die quickly; he didn’t deserve it.

  I didn’t cry. I forced myself to hold it together as I propelled myself backwards from the tent. The moment I was on my feet, I felt the muzzle of a gun against my temple. I expelled a shaky breath and allowed the tears to flow, because I couldn’t hold them back. I turned to look at the man who held the gun, noting he was decked out in a United States National Guard uniform, full body armor and gear. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, maybe a little older.

  “What happened here?” he demanded, and I let go of the sob I’d been holding and dropped to the ground, landing on my knees as I dry-heaved. There wasn’t anything left in my stomach to come up. “Jesus,” he said. As I retched, more of them converged into the camp. They all had uniforms on, all from the same unit. I hadn’t even known we still had army or any type of military left.

  “You find her?” a guy asked as he burst into the camp, only to stop cold when he saw the lifeless bodies, and then me, as I tried to pull myself together. “Is she here? Oh my God, that’s the guy who took her! Where is she?”

  “Don’t let him inside the tent,” I choked out, only to feel the gun as it rested against the back of my head. “It’s bad.”

  “You smell that?” someone asked, removing the lid from the Dutch oven. I retched, violently.

  “What the fuck is wrong with her?” the guy who was sniffing the pot asked.

  “It’s her,” I whispered brokenly as I lifted my eyes to the first guy. They’d yet to remove the gun from my head, and I wasn’t fighting them, why? Where was the fight, the will to live?

  “What?” the guy asked, bending down to look at me. I had weapons everywhere, which he noted, and his friend began removing them. I didn’t fight him. What was the point anyway? “What did you say?” he demanded, poking the gun harder against my temple.

  “The food, it’s her,” I rasped, barely able to get the words out.

  “The fuck you say,” he mumbled. Just as he did, someone entered the tent, and as he shouted, I dry-heaved violently. “What the…Chad?” he asked, but his friend had seen what I had, and he’d put it together a lot faster. “Got her weapons?” he asked the guy behind me.

  “She’s a walking fucking arsenal,” he complained, finding more as he pulled me to my feet and zip-tied my hands behind my back. “Look at this.” He dropped more weapons into the pile.

  “Is she here?” another guy snapped, which must have been the husband looking for the woman in the tent.

  “Don’t let him see her,” I repeated as I was roughly pulled away from the tent and hauled towards one of the trees, and I felt the bite of a knife as the guy changed his mind about my hands being tied behind my back, and secured me to the tree. I sank to my knees, and looked away from the chaos.

  As a man began screaming hysterically, I knew he’d discovered the remains. Instead of looking at the dead men who littered the camp, he rushed at me, kicking and hitting me. I didn’t try to block it, which the others noted as they pulled him off of me. I was tied to a fucking tree. I’d let it happen. Some fucking monster I was.

  “You need to tell me what the fuck happened here,” the soldier who’d held me at gunpoint ordered.

  “Humanity died,” I chuckled without any trace of humor. This was a fucking travesty.

  “Did you help do that to her?” His gray eyes met and held mine. “Yes or no?” he demanded as he grabbed my throat.

  My eyes darted to where children had just pushed through the bushes, and fresh tears filled my eyes.

  “Did you find Mommy?” The little girl’s eyes were filled with hope. “I want Mommy!” she sobbed uncontrollably. An older boy, who looked to be about thirteen, reached down and picked her up, comforting her.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sadie Mae, we’ll find her.”

  “Stop them,” I pleaded, tugging on my wrists as I watched them near the tent. “Don’t worry about me, stop them!”

  “Guys, come sit on the logs,” he directed, and nodded as the other soldiers took positions in front of the tent; one of the National Guardsmen tried to comfort the woman’s husband. His eyes slid back to mine as I watched the kids. “Do not even fucking think about it,” he warned.

  “Children have no place in this sick world,” I whispered and turned my eyes back to his.

  “You didn’t do this to her, it’s in your eyes,” he murmured as he sat beside me, and rested against the other tree. “What’s inside that tent?” He turned to look at me.

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I closed my eyes as the one man started to scream again. Full grown men, soldiers, couldn’t stomach what was inside that tent.

  “I killed her,” I whispered, turning to look at him. “I ended it.”

  Why I told him that, I didn’t know. I felt the butt of his gun as it smashed against my face. When I woke, it was to the man staring at me, the woman’s husband. Someone else was digging a hole, and the children cried silently.

  “Why?” her husband demanded, and I knew the other soldiers listened.

  “Because she was dying, and she asked me to do it,” I said evenly. “They cut her legs, severing the tendons, and removed the ligaments so that she couldn’t run. They cut her tongue out so that she couldn’t scream, and they had been taking parts and pieces of her for supper. Her arms, and her legs, they were probably infected, seeing that this isn’t the most sterile of places. I couldn’t carry her. I couldn’t save her,” I expelled a shaky breath. “I ended it because she knew that she wouldn’t survive, or hell, maybe she had me do it so that you didn’t have to. I’m a stranger, no one. She was in pain; it was in her eyes. No one deserves that kind of torture, no one.”

  “You killed the men?” the first soldier asked, his eyes leveling me with a look of unease. “Little thing like you couldn’t have done this alone.”

  “I was trained well,” I replied. “I had the advantage because they un
derestimated me, just as you’re doing now.”

  “He was fucking garroted,” he snapped as he pointed to the fat man’s corpse.

  “Indeed, he was. He was sloppy, ill-trained. I wasn’t. Is the National Guard running?” I asked, noting the way he stood; it was taught, ingrained into them right after they enlisted. It wasn’t something a civilian would do when his gun was resting, and he held it correctly, too.

  “Nah, it went down when the CDC did,” he stated, his eyes on me as blood continued to ooze from my nose.

  “We need to find food,” another soldier stated, his eyes looking me over as if I was a wild animal he was afraid to get close to. “Kids are starving.”

  When the little girl whispered how hungry she was to the older boy, I groaned. I had food; MREs that tasted like shit, but it was nutrients. I didn’t want to offer what I had and be left with nothing, and I didn’t expect help anytime soon.

  My eyes lowered to one of the guys’ boots, which had his blood type on the back. I narrowed my eyes on it, and asked, “Why put it there?”

  “Why put what, where?” the guy asked; according to his uniform, his last name was Bernard.

  “Blood type, it’s on the back of his boot,” I replied.

  “In war, they don’t have time to look shit up. Just easier to look at the boots, ya know?” he answered as he crept closer. “Where you from?” he asked.

  “Not around here,” I answered. “Untie me.”

  “No can do, wild thing,” he stated, sizing me up.

  “Scared?” I asked, but his eyes didn’t scream fear; they were looking at me as if he was impressed.

  “No, just not as sloppy as these guys were,” he smiled. “How’s a wild thing like you survive out here alone?”

  “Who said I was alone?” I smirked as a little blood trickled over my lip. He went to alert immediately. Searching the woods, another thing that was military training; not many knew the signals, but he did, telling the others with his fingers and hand, to watch their six; I knew what he was doing, my dad taught me.