by Russ Watts
“By killing innocent people?” Her parents were dead. Everyone that Rilla knew was dead except for Victoria who thankfully was safely in Verity’s company. Rilla was all alone with this madman.
“Casualties of war,” said Butcher calmly. “I didn’t start this war, they did. All I’m doing is protecting my own. This is my land, my country, and one day it will be great again. Until then you play by my rules, or—”
“Or what?” asked Rilla. She knew the answer. It was what had made him murder her family.
Butcher grabbed Rilla by the back of the neck. “You really want to know the answer to that question?” he snarled. Butcher twisted Rilla around and shoved the gun into her back. He frog-marched her back up the incline toward the house, but before they reached it he pushed her toward the parked vehicles.
“Where are we going?” asked Rilla as they approached a black sedan with tinted windows.
“You wanted to know what happens when you don’t do what I want.”
Butcher pushed Rilla past the car, and on the other side was a rose garden. Surrounding it were ash trees and what appeared to be pieces of wood on the ground. They passed under a ramshackle trellis covered by ivy and through a pergola before reaching the center of the rose garden. Something tall and dark reached up into the night sky, and Rilla couldn’t understand what she was looking at. As they got closer she could see movement and heard the familiar sounds of the dead.
“What is this?” Rilla wondered if Butcher was about to feed her to a zombie. It was too soon. Victoria was still in the house. Rilla wouldn’t go without a fight and got ready to tackle Butcher. If she had to wrestle the gun from him she would. “What are you doing?”
“You wanted to talk to him, go ahead. Talk. Ask him anything you want.”
Butcher pushed Rilla forward causing her to fall to the ground once more. On her knees she looked up at the strange object that had been erected in the middle of the garden. A tall piece of wood stretched vertically up in front of her with another section nailed horizontally across the upper half. A body was nailed to the cross, its arms outstretched and guts ripped open. The body twitched but couldn’t free itself.
“Oh my God.” Rilla put her hands over her mouth in shock as she looked at the crucified corpse that hovered above her. “Is it... is that Attwood?”
“Bingo.” Butcher stood next to Rilla. “That asshole deserved nothing less. He wasn’t going to let us in either. My mother, Verity, worked for him for years. She did all sorts of work for him. She cleaned this place from top to bottom, and when the shit went down he turned her away. If it wasn’t for me and Tad, we’d still all be out there. So don’t go feeling sorry for him. He got what he deserved.”
In her peripheral vision Rilla saw Butcher’s gun. She could try now. She could spring up and grab it while he was off guard.
“So you just took his house and killed him. Why leave him here? Like this?”
“A reminder, so that people like you realize this is all mine now. If you cross me, you’ll end up next to him. Or worse I’ll feed you to my dogs to be eaten alive.”
Rilla jumped up and grabbed Butcher’s arm. He dropped the gun and together they fell to the ground. Rilla quickly punched Butcher in the face and in the gut, and then spun around looking for the gun. It lay next to an overgrown rose bush, and she reached for it. But with her hand only an inch from it, she felt a stinging pain in her leg and screamed out. Another pain erupted in her other leg, in her calf, and Rilla turned over to find Butcher kneeling above her with a long knife in his hand. Blood oozed from his broken nose, and he looked angry.
“You think it’s gonna be that easy? Have you not heard a single fucking thing I said?” Butcher plunged the knife down and stabbed Rilla at the top of her leg just below her hip.
“Stop!” Rilla cried out and clutched her leg. She felt blood flow freely through her fingers, and white hot pain racked her body. Butcher crawled up her body and shoved her arms beneath his knees, leaving her powerless to break free from underneath him. “Please.”
Butcher brought the knife to Rilla’s throat. She could feel her own blood dripping from it onto her skin and closed her eyes. She wished she had died with her parents. She couldn’t take on Butcher on her own. She should’ve have stayed with them and fought with them. She had let them down, and now she had let Victoria down. If Butcher didn’t kill her right now she was going to bleed to death.
“You think you know everything. What were you going to do? Shoot me, shoot Conan, and Tad and Verity? Then what? Cut Attwood down and give him a nice burial? You’re wasting your time. You’re never getting out of here. Never.”
Butcher lowered his face and let his soft lips kiss her cheek. Rilla felt his breath caress her neck, and she could feel his beard on her skin, his breath mixing with hers as he leered over her, all the while holding the knife to her neck.
“Please don’t hurt me, don’t—”
“What?” Butcher pressed the knife firmly against her neck, nicking the skin. A thin line of blood trickled out.
Rilla screwed her eyes shut. “Don’t rape me,” she whispered. “Just kill me. Get it over with. Do it.”
Butcher laughed. “Why would I do that?”
Rilla said nothing. Whatever answer she gave would be the wrong one. Her arms and legs were going numb, and she could hear Attwood moaning above them.
“I can’t very well fuck you right now, can I? If you bleed out in the garden you could change right when I’m—well, you know.” Butcher sat up and took the knife away from Rilla’s throat. “So here’s what we’ll do. Verity can see to your wounds. I’m sure she can stitch you up. When you’re better, we’ll see if you’ve come around to my way of thinking. Me and Tad have been waiting a long time for someone like you to come along. Conan, well he’s a little different. He prefers his women a bit younger. It’s not my cup of tea, but who I am to argue with him? I think he and Victoria will get along just fine.” Butcher got up and stared at Rilla. He put the knife back in his jacket and scooped up the gun. He pointed it at Rilla. “Well. You want to come inside or stay here and talk to Attwood a little more?”
Rilla had no choice. If she fought back now, then Butcher would kill her. If she didn’t go with him, then she would surely bleed to death. The only way out was to go along with him. For now.
Rilla raised an arm. Her head swam with pain, and her leg was numb. She felt cold and scared. “Take me inside. Take me to Verity.”
“And you’re not going to fight me anymore?”
Rilla shook her head. The night sky was suddenly blacker than she remembered, and she couldn’t see the stars anymore. “I just want...”
As Rilla passed out, Butcher looked up at Attwood and sighed as he wiped his bloody nose. “Looks like it’s just me and you, buddy. Want to give me a hand getting her inside?”
Attwood’s dead body twisted around, but the nails held it firmly in place on the cross. His teeth clacked together, and he uttered a low moan.
“Is that a no?” Butcher reached down for Rilla and put his hands under her body. He lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder. “Fine. I guess it’s just you and me then, girl. Verity would tell me you ain’t good for nothing, and I should feed you to the wolves. I reckon there’s some use in you before we get to that.”
Underneath the moonlit sky, Butcher carried Rilla back to the house. Verity would have the younger girl tucked up in bed by now and would be able to stitch up Rilla’s cuts. Then they would finally be able to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day, and Butcher didn’t doubt he was going to need all the energy he had.
CHAPTER 11
It occurred to Charlie as she curled up into a ball that the dogs might kill them all, but would they kill them all? There was no doubt in her mind that her father was dead. She knew that Schafer and Magda were dead, that Jeremy and Lyn were dead, and that the dogs would eat large parts of their bodies. There was nothing she could do about that, as much as it horrifi
ed her. It was undignified and undeserved. But what if they came back? What if Kyler or Schafer came back? If they found her, they would kill her too. There was no way she could repel any attack from a zombie; certainly not one from her father. How could she kill him? How could she defend herself against anything? The cage was small and cramped, and the wire mesh cold against her skin. As she backed up into the corner, she stared down the long dark tunnel through which she had crawled. The dogs’ kennels led directly into the garage, and now she could hear them yelping and barking and running around, having killed everyone. The darkness was absolute. Blood and sweat kept dripping into her eyes, and even though she blinked it away, she knew she was covered in it. The smell of her body was like a beacon to them, and she knew it probably wouldn’t be long before the dogs finished up and returned for her. What would she do then? How could she get away from them—from any of this? Her left arm was numb, the bone broken, and the skin a shredded mess. She was bleeding badly, and the bites to her leg stung as she brought her knees up to her chin. She tried to control her breathing and focus. She had to focus on finding a way out. If the dogs returned, or if those men did, then they would finish her off one way or another.
One thought kept racing through Charlie’s mind: Why? Schafer had offered to help. He and her father had both been able to help, they all had. They were of no threat, and yet those men had taken in only Rilla and Victoria. It made no sense. The house offered protection from the dead, from the world that offered only death, and yet they had been turned away. Charlie hated them all. She hated everything the world had become, at what those men had become, and what had made them that way. Was it the corpses and the zombies that had twisted their minds into such hatred, or had they always been that way before the walls went up? Charlie was beat. Mentally and physically she just felt like curling up into a ball and giving up. Her energy levels were at zero. Charlie lifted her right hand to her face and gingerly felt along the tear in her cheek where one of the dogs had ripped it open. A hunk of skin flapped around loosely, and when she touched it the raw nerve endings sent shockwaves of pain to her brain.
“Fuck.” Charlie rested her head back against the metal cage. She kept seeing Schafer in that last moment before he succumbed to those dogs. She kept seeing his face and hearing his pleading voice.
‘Get away from here. Get Rilla.’
He had been a tough man; maybe as tough as her father. Yet those creatures had still taken him down. What chance did she have when they discovered where she was? Could she get away? Was it even possible?
Charlie drew in a lungful of oxygen and almost retched. The air tasted of shit and rotten meat. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she knew she had to find a way out. Staying here meant certain death. If the dogs didn’t get her, then the infection would. Her cuts ran deep and needed treating. She ran her hand over the wire and began to search for an exit. The kennel was in complete and total darkness. She felt around, and the wire cage was no more than four feet high, yet stretched as far as she could reach. Along the bottom of the cage ran a gutter. It was full of stale water and discarded food. She had hoped to find an exit of some kind, perhaps another lock or opening where the dogs got out for exercise. But she found nothing, and knew she was going to have to move. She inched forward and winced with every movement that sent shuddering waves of pain through her bites and mangled left arm. Using the wire for support, Charlie dragged herself forward, staying close to the edge of the kennel. The ground was cold and damp, and her clothes became sodden as she crawled slowly forward.
‘Get away from here.’
She wanted to stop, to rest, to grieve, and let the dogs take her into oblivion; yet something drove her on, and inch by painful inch she managed to crawl the length of the cage. In the corner she found the wire was looser at the base and she could even wiggle a few fingers underneath. The concrete was cracked, and she guessed that the dogs had attempted a breakout and dug the ground away. The gutter led to a drain in the same corner, and she ran her hand over the grate. It was slimy and dripping with the dogs’ waste. Charlie slumped back against the wire. There was no way out, no secret door, no passage to anywhere else; she could hear the dogs barking and waited. It wouldn’t be long before they found her. Was the best she could hope for a quick death? She remembered the dog she had half blinded and the others that had attacked her. She remembered how they had attacked so viciously. It wasn’t their fault. Butcher had clearly trained them to behave that way. He probably tortured them, and they didn’t know any different. He had raised them to be killers and done a good job of it.
Suddenly Charlie heard a creaking sound coming from down the tunnel. One of the panels was lifting up, and as it swung back into place, she heard the unmistakable padding steps from a dog. One of them was coming back already. She heard panting and wheezing, and then the footsteps stopped. It had realized she was in here in its home.
Charlie held her breath and waited. She waited for the inevitable attack and curled her right hand into a fist. Her left arm was useless, and the hand was a mess. But as she sat there waiting to die, she knew she could put up a fight, maybe even try to blind another dog. She vowed she would fight to the end and not give in. Would Schafer give in? Had her father given in? Had Rilla meekly surrendered to these evil men? No, they had fought back. It dawned on Charlie that not only could she do the same, but that she should do the same. Why should she be forced to die like a pig? Why should she let some evil bastard take everything from her—take her family, her friends, her life? Charlie brought her fist up to protect her face as the invisible black dog came closer. She was going to fight if it took her last breath.
‘Get Rilla.’
A growling sound came from somewhere up ahead, and Charlie tried to find the dog but it was impossible. Her eyes found nothing. The cage was devoid of light. The dog was closer. She could smell it just as she knew it could smell her.
“Come on then, you bitch. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Charlie pushed herself back into the corner of the cage and prepared to fight. As she did so, the grate beneath her legs moved. She had dislodged it from the opening below, and she realized she was sat almost directly above the drain. The huge dog was running now and barking. Quickly, Charlie turned over and pulled at the grate. She sensed there was still time to remove the drain cover and perhaps slip into it and avoid the dogs. It could be a way out, but as she removed the drain cover she felt the slavering jaws of one of the dogs rip into her back, and she screamed in pain.
The dog ripped open a huge chunk of her shoulder, tearing through her clothes and skin as if they were made of feathers. Charlie screamed and brought the grate up with her hand, cracking the dog over the head with it. She didn’t know where she had connected with the beast, but it seemed to stop it, even if only for a moment. The pain surging through her back was indescribable, and it felt like she had been hit by a truck. She lifted the grate again and held it in front of her face just as the dog attacked again. Its jaws snapped at the metal and clamped around the grate, threatening to pull it from her grasp. She knew that if she lost it then she would not physically be able to stop the dog. Charlie roared at the dog to back off and pulled the grate from its mouth. Before the dog could back away, she smashed the heavy grate over the dog’s head again, and it yelped in pain. Charlie knew she had hurt it and whipped the grate through the air again, hitting the dog once more on the top of its head. She became aware that the dog had fallen to the ground just in front of her feet. She could hear it breathing and whining pitifully.
“That all you got?” Charlie smashed the grate down on the dog’s head again and again and again. She could feel the bones in its head breaking, and the soft fur eventually gave way to the hard ground. She obliterated its head completely, and when she was sure the dog was dead, she dropped the steel grate. Her arm ached and yet it wasn’t over. The barking from the other dogs was still echoing down the tunnel from the other room, and she didn’t have the energy to fight more of them. I
f they attacked all at once, she would have no way out and knew there was only one chance now.
Charlie climbed to the lip of the drain and reached down. The walls were wet and oily, and she couldn’t reach the bottom. The opening was about two feet across, just about wide enough for her to squeeze through. There would be no going back, and she had no idea if it would lead anywhere, but she knew if she waited any longer, then the others would come. She pulled herself over the lip and lowered herself head first through the opening. The foul smell was worse than up top, and she kept her mouth closed as she lowered herself into the drain. It was better to breathe through her nose than have the taste of it in her mouth.
With her right arm in front of her, Charlie felt her waist on the lip and reached out. The ground was still not within reach and she was going to have to drop and hope it wasn’t far. She wriggled forward and closed her eyes as she pushed off. Better to die quickly by falling and breaking her back than being savaged by those dogs.
When she landed at the bottom of the drain all the breath was knocked out of her body. Every bite and cut on her body seemed to protest and scream in rage at her, and her back stung as if a thousand bees had attacked her at once. The fall had only been two or three seconds yet it had felt much longer. Falling through infinite blackness, Charlie had landed at the bottom of the drain and not managed to break her neck or anything else. There was a good four or five inches of water at the bottom of the drain which had softened the landing. As she sat up, Charlie heard the dogs above her scrambling around the top of the drain. If they were brave enough to come down, then they could have her. She knew they were unlikely to, but wasn’t sure. They had obviously discovered their fallen comrade and were sending an uninterrupted series of loud barks down the opening to her.