by Ariel Bonin
"I'm Lindsey. This is Ana," she said, prying the words from her mouth. She was so furious with the scumbag that she struggled to keep her composure.
"Ladies, it's a pleasure to meet you. You heard me say earlier that the men have to fight, so you're probably wondering what I need from you." He paused for effect. "You have a decision to make. It's really not a difficult one. You see, in this position, I have the power to make things easy for people—or not. So, you have the option of residing with me. The accommodations are far more comfortable than the barracks and you don't need to work on the factory floor. I can give you anything you want. All I need from you is complete loyalty." Samuel leveled his gaze on Lindsey. "Who's this man that you're with?"
"Andrew," Lindsey murmured.
"That means no more Andrew. Any contact with him would result in serious consequences." Samuel made sure she understood before he continued. "The alternate choice is the same as the men—you fight to live. If you win, you work in the factory like everybody else."
Lindsey and Ana swapped loaded glances. It was clear to each of them what choice they'd make. Samuel was crazy to think she would walk away from Andrew just to make her life a little easier.
"So, what'll it be?" he asked, looking to Ana first.
"I'll fight."
Samuel nodded sadly. "And you?"
"I'll fight, too," Lindsey whispered with barely contained hatred.
The man let out a heavy sigh. "It's a shame. I think you two would have been my favorites." He gestured to his men as he stood. "Take them to the holding area."
Once again, Isaac grabbed Lindsey, but this time she didn't care. As long as he took her to where she could see Andrew, she'd go willingly.
_____
Andrew and Charlie were escorted to an area that could only be described as makeshift holding cells; metal pipes were welded together to form seven-foot cages. As they were locked up next to each other, one of the men said, "Just hang tight. I'll let the boss know you're here."
Andrew exhaled a breath of frustration and collapsed into a chair in the corner. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face. All he could think about was Zoey and Lindsey. Worry ate at him from the inside, generating the sensation of being asphyxiated. His constant failures as a father weighed heavily on him. All he wanted was to protect his children, but no matter what he did, something—or someone, stood in the way of that.
"What the hell is this place?" Charlie wondered aloud from the other cell.
Andrew stared ahead, saying, "I saw this factory after I led away the horde at the housing development. I had no idea it was so close to the ranch." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache threatened to take ahold of him.
All of a sudden, they heard the sound of a door opening. Andrew moved from his chair and stood at the bars. He was shocked to see Lindsey and Ana as they were thrown into the cells across from him. The fact that his daughter was absent did not slip past him.
"Where's Zoey?" he hollered at Lindsey. She pushed up from the floor and looked at him miserably, making him feel bad for raising his voice at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone cut in.
"Your daughter is fine. She was given a cot in the barracks, a set of clothes, and something to eat. She is being well looked after." The unfamiliar man was about the same size as him, with slick brown hair and the clearest eyes he'd ever seen. "Whether or not you see her again, Andrew, that's up to you."
Andrew caught a glimpse of Lindsey, who was gazing back at him with devastation in her eyes. She knew something that he didn't.
"The ladies have already heard my spiel, so excuse the monotony," the man said to Lindsey and Ana. He directed his chilling eyes back onto Andrew and Charlie. "My name is Samuel, and I'm on a mission to produce one bullet for every deadhead that's roaming this wasted planet. We will rise up and take back what's ours. In order to do that, I need the best of the best. That's where you come in."
Andrew waited with bated breath.
"Tonight, each of you will face an opponent in a fight to the death. They will not be another member of your group, so you can rest easy there. If you come out alive, you will secure a spot in our rise back to humanity."
Charlie released a curt laugh. "'Humanity'? That's what this is? I've known assholes like you. You can't make us fight."
"If I tell you that I'll cut her throat, would that change your mind?" Samuel asked, pointing to Ana.
Charlie narrowed his eyes on the man, as if sizing him up. He remained silent, and Samuel smiled.
"That's what I thought. I'll give you all some time to mentally prepare yourselves, because at sundown, it all begins…or ends." He began to stroll toward the door, but stopped, turning back to Charlie. "Oh, and tough guy? You're up first."
With one final disconcerting grin, he left behind the stunned survivors.
_____
When the last of the day's light receded from the room, Samuel summoned his guards and escorted the four prisoners down the hall. They reached the end, with the option of turning left or right. Charlie was pulled to the right, while the others were ordered to the left. After climbing a flight of metal stairs, they were led into, what appeared to be, a control room. One entire wall was lined with glass windows that overlooked an empty section of factory. The men brought Andrew, Lindsey, and Ana to the edge of the window and remained behind them, holding the three at gunpoint.
Andrew watched as a woman was brought into the room and escorted to the other end of the glass wall. She looked to be in her early thirties, with short black hair and an expression of dread plastered all over her face. He guessed that she was a family or group member of whomever was up against Charlie.
This is so wrong.
It was bad enough to kill another human being at the threat of your own family in danger, but to do it while the other person's family was watching? That situation was the true definition of horror. Andrew felt sick at the unexpected turn of events. He'd anticipated that they would each be held in the cells until it was their turn to fight. If he had to watch Lindsey, Charlie, or Ana die, he'd be ruined.
Samuel took his place at the middle of the glass window and pressed a button on a small panel in the wall.
"Bring them in!" he ordered over the loud speaker.
On the level below, a side door opened, and they all watched as Charlie and another man were brought to the center of the floor. Charlie's opponent was slightly shorter than him, but looked like he had the muscle to make up for it. The two men took a stance across from each other, fists up and ready to fight.
"Begin," Samuel said into the intercom.
The man shuffled forward and threw a punch, but Charlie dodged and swung his arm around. His fist connected with the man's jaw, knocking his competitor off-kilter momentarily. He used that opportunity to drive his other fist into the man's gut. After folding at the waist, the man backed up, not allowing Charlie to get close to him. Charlie advanced, ready to hurl another punch, but got caught off guard when the man kicked out a leg, striking Charlie in the thigh. His leg buckled, and then he immediately received a blow to the temple from his opponent. He fell to his knees, reeling from the unexpected hit.
When the man came at him, he swiftly recovered and hooked an arm around the man's ankle. Charlie yanked the competitor off his feet, and he landed on his back on the concrete floor. Charlie climbed on top of him and threw three quick jabs straight into his face. The man was hovering on the brink of unconsciousness, no longer fighting back. Using both hands, Charlie grabbed the man by his shirt and lifted his upper body off the floor. With a forceful shove, Charlie slammed him into the floor. His head impacted the hard surface with the sound of a watermelon shattering on pavement.
Lindsey's jaw dropped at the horrendous sound, and, with wide eyes, glanced at Andrew. The grimace on his face matched exactly how she felt. They continued to lock eyes as the woman on the other side of the room let out a scream of pure anguish. Like flipping some k
ind of switch, Lindsey instantly thought back to the night she'd watched her husband die. The pain this woman was experiencing was palpable, because Lindsey had felt it herself.
"I can't fight her," Lindsey uttered quietly to Andrew.
"Don't think about it. Just do whatever you have to do," he said in a low voice.
The men began to pull the shrieking woman out of the room, and she fought them the whole way. Lindsey was too distracted, watching the devastating scene unfold before her, to realize that she was also being forced from the room.
With surprise, her panicked gaze moved back to Andrew. "No, no, no!" she cried, digging in her heels. "Andrew…!"
He struggled against Miguel's hold on him. "It'll be okay, Linds!" he tried to reassure her. "I love you!"
"I love you, too!" she yelled before she vanished around the corner.
Ten minutes later, Lindsey appeared on the floor below, clad in her worn jeans and a black sports bra. Andrew wondered why both women were shirtless and figured Samuel had some sort of influence over that, the bastard. Even from where he was, he could see the dark bruise on her ribcage caused by Miguel's rifle. Anger burned inside him as he fought the urge to pummel the Hispanic man behind him.
It did bring Andrew some relief to see her hair pulled back into a tight braid. While he loved her long locks, they could prove to be a downfall in a fight if the other woman got a hold of them. Her physical appearance gave off that of a beautiful warrior, but he could tell that her mentality didn't match. She had it in her, she'd just have to find it—and fast.
Lindsey took her position and looked up at Andrew, hesitation obvious in her large brown eyes. He subtly nodded, urging her to get focused. She glanced away and concentrated on the woman in front of her. Her chest rose and fell quickly as adrenaline flowed through her veins. The other woman was still distraught from her recent loss, and Lindsey felt a tinge of empathy for her.
While in the middle of that thought, Samuel announced the start of the fight. Lindsey barely had enough time to process what was happening when the woman's fist slammed into her cheek. The blow sent Lindsey to her knees. She'd never been hit so hard in her life, except for maybe that time in high school at softball practice when she'd caught a ball in the face. This, though, was on a whole new level. She gasped and tried to shake the stars from her vision, but the woman drove a knee under her chin, throwing her back onto the concrete floor. Her head connected with a smack and everything went black for a moment.
Andrew heard her head hit the floor, even from where he stood. His heart plummeted into his stomach. After what he'd just seen with Charlie, he thought this could be it for Lindsey.
"Get up, get up…" he muttered as panic threatened to consume him.
Initially, she didn't move, but came to right as the other woman charged at her. The blonde kicked up her leg, tossing the woman over her. With noticeable effort, Lindsey rose to her feet. Blood dripped from her open mouth as she got her bearings. Quickly, she lunged at the woman, tackling her to the ground.
Lindsey struggled to remain in control as her head pounded and her vision continued to waver. She raised her fist and punched the woman as hard as she could. Alarming pain pulsed through her hand from the impact. She'd never punched someone before, and it hurt a lot more than she had anticipated. However, this wasn't the time to think about how much agony she was in. She struck the woman again and heard a pop. She was hopeful that she'd made some kind of headway on crippling her opponent, but made the realization that the sound had come from her own hand. Lindsey glanced down and saw her pinky finger pointed at an unnatural angle.
"Don't stop!"
A distant voice broke through the haze in her mind, and she recognized that it was Charlie yelling at her. Unfortunately, that moment of distraction from her injured hand was just enough time for the other woman to get her hands around Lindsey's neck.
"You're going to pay for what was done to my husband!" she snarled, flipping Lindsey over. The woman's hands constricted with crushing strength, and Lindsey desperately grabbed at her own throat.
"I'm not the enemy," Lindsey croaked.
The woman squeezed harder. "You are right now!"
Lindsey's eyes wandered up to the control room and her gaze connected with Andrew's. He saw that she was focused on him, but the light in her eyes was beginning to fade.
"Dammit, Lindsey! Fight!" he roared.
Darkness crept at the edges of her vision. Feeling weak, but not giving into it, she squeezed her eyes shut and found the strength from within to keep fighting. She thought about Andrew and Zoey. She needed to keep living for them. She also thought about Jared and her parents. They were gone, but at peace, waiting for her. She wanted to see them so badly, but not today.
Not today.
Remembering a self-defense move her father had taught her, she rammed her palm upward, breaking the other woman's nose. Blood poured from her face as she stumbled back. In doing so, Lindsey was able to get behind her. She wrapped her arms around the woman's neck and pulled tight, cutting off her airway. The woman wriggled in her grip, and she braced herself with her feet.
As much as she hated to kill a living, breathing person, she needed to finish it; her body couldn't take much more. She'd always had some kind of weapon when it came to turners, so she found herself grasping for an alternative. Suddenly, her reoccurring dream about Jared forced its way to the front of her brain. Just like she'd done night after night in the murky reaches of her mind, she gritted her teeth and fought the weightlessness in her tired arms. With a hoarse cry, she wrenched the woman's head to the side, breaking her neck. Instantly, her body fell to the ground like a rag doll. Lindsey staggered backward and looked down at her shaking hands. Her finger was still out of place, and that was the only reminder she needed to become aware of the pain coursing through her entire body.
Nausea rolled in her stomach, either from the atrocious throbbing in her head, or the disgust with herself for what she'd just done. She dropped onto her hands and knees, drawing in deep breaths. She touched her forehead to the cold floor and wanted nothing more than to close her eyes for an extended length of time.
Andrew watched Lindsey wallow in the aftermath, his heart aching for the mental and physical anguish she had to be experiencing. Lindsey wasn't a cold-blooded killer. She'd proven over and over that she was a survivor, but not at the sake of murdering innocent people. He loved that she was such a warm, caring individual, but every person had a breaking point when they were pushed in the opposite direction. He'd reached his before.
Would she?
One of the guards dragged away the deceased woman's limp body, and Andrew glanced at the floor, repulsed by the sight.
What a waste.
The human race was at risk of becoming extinct, and this monster was throwing people away like they were expendable pieces of trash—and for what? Samuel's reasoning was complete bullshit. He was sure that Samuel just wanted to watch the fights for some form of entertainment.
Andrew peered through the window as the other guard tugged on Lindsey's arm and pulled her upright. She swayed and faltered in her steps to the door. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd suffered some form of a concussion when her head hit the floor. Concern knotted in his gut as Samuel turned to face him.
"You've got quite the fighter there. Lucky man," he said, echoing Dean's statement at the school. "Or perhaps your luck just ran out, because you're up."
As Andrew was led out of the room, he knew he would not make the same mistake he'd made with Dean. After he survived the fight, he wouldn't stop until Samuel was no longer breathing.
Chapter 24
Miguel ushered Andrew down the hallway that led to the factory floor below. Much to Andrew's surprise, Lindsey and Isaac materialized at the other end, heading toward him. Lindsey didn't see him at first, her gaze cast downward. He noticed she was holding her right hand close to her middle, as if to protect it. He knew she'd injured it during the fight, but not to wha
t extent.
As they got closer, she finally looked up. Her face gave off the appearance of overexertion, covered in a pale sheen of perspiration, with tired, sunken eyes. While initially her expression was neutral, the moment she laid eyes on Andrew, her face twisted in pain.
"Andy…" she whimpered as he drew near.
He slowed his steps and Miguel urged him forward.
"Give us a minute, will you?" Andrew snapped.
The Hispanic man sighed in reluctant agreement and Isaac rolled his eyes, but allowed Lindsey to stop. Andrew wrapped his arms around her slumped shoulders and pulled her close. She burrowed her face into his chest and began to weep. He backed up enough to hold her face in his hands, and she stared up at him in misery. Neither of them spoke—there were no words. Nothing he could say would make her feel better. He closed his eyes and gently touched his forehead to hers. Lindsey's warm, shuddering breaths ghosted across his lips.
Just as he moved in to kiss her, Miguel dragged him away. "Let's go!" the man ground out.
Andrew watched her over his shoulder as she reached for him. Isaac pulled her back, causing her to stumble to the side, and he hauled her upright. She looked at Andrew one more time, and then disappeared around the corner.
When the two men reached the door to the factory floor, Andrew looked around for his opponent. Since the couple from before were the only people he'd seen, he had to wonder who he would go up against.
Out of the blue, Miguel's radio crackled to life.
"We got one. Heading down now," the voice said.
"Copy that," Miguel answered, and glanced at Andrew. "Looks like you've got someone after all! We weren't sure for a minute there."
Footsteps echoed from somewhere out of Andrew's view and his heart quickened. When his opponent finally appeared, he almost laughed. It had to be some kind of joke! Really, what were the odds of this happening?
Suddenly, Andrew Flynn wasn't so worried about his fight to the death, because he would gladly kill the man in front of him.