Kira Malone Chronicles: Vol 1 (Slaughter USA)

by Mandi Konesni

  Kira Malone Chronicles

  Vol 1

  Slaughter USA Series

  Mandi Konesni

  Copyright © 2018 by Liliom Press

  Cover Design by Mae's Wicked Grafix

  All rights reserved

  This one goes out to my sister, Katie Sloan. We've had our ups and downs, as siblings do, but through it all I know you will always fight for me. I'm so proud of you and the things you've accomplished in life. You've fought incredible odds, and like Kira, you've survived no matter the struggles, becoming so much stronger in the process. I love you dearly, and will always be your biggest champion. ♥

  Table of Contents

  Prey

  Rogue

  Relic

  Prey

  Chapter One

  The last thing she remembered, she'd been walking. Hazy summer heat left vapors rising from the cement on the walking trail. She recalled how she'd paused to share a bit of water from her bottle with a stray dog as it was so ungodly hot. The pup looked older, but relatively clean. He'd either just escaped his yard or was taking good care of himself. Either way, it didn't hurt her to share a sip or two.

  If she could have found a way to sneak him into the dorm without arousing suspicions, she would have. The student representative that lived in her dorm was a stickler for keeping to the rules, and would have a fit. Instead, she resolved to go out there a few times a week and leave food. Small things, really, but even small things added up.

  She was so used to the path she took she tended to tune out, her mind going over the events of the day, things she needed to do for tomorrow. It was a bad habit of hers, one she'd been reprimanded for most of her life. It drove nearly everyone around her nuts, but once she was going through the motions and doing things by rote, she tended to get bored and started withdrawing inward.

  She'd been told over and over again by nearly everyone that staying so late at the lab by herself was dangerous. That she should leave when others did, or at least before the last bus did, that way she'd have a safe ride back home. The way she figured it was... she spent so much time cooped up behind a microscope, the nightly walk 15 minutes to and from the quiet dorm at the far end of campus was good for her. It wasn't that far, and the entire pathway was lit by old-fashioned lantern style lights.

  Though it was late enough that she was normally alone, the lights of the dormitories blazed, reminding her she was never actually by herself out there. She'd never particularly felt nervous or scared, even as the nights got darker and the hours got later. It was her quiet, peaceful time, where she was able to unwind from the day before she arrived at her door.

  She was in the rural Midwest, where the only exciting thing that happened was the fairs and festivals of summer, ending with the Apple Butter Fest in October when the leaves began to turn into fall jewel tones. The normal cliche of "It's so safe, everyone still leaves their doors unlocked!" fit the town well. No one worried about things like strangers or girls being kidnapped. It was simply unheard of here.

  If only she'd listened, or left a little earlier tonight. If only the dog lingered to warn her, so she appeared less of a target. So many different scenarios. So many things she could've, would've done differently if she'd known. How does one sense evil lurking in the dark? How do you know when everything is about to change? Simple answer? You don't.

  The clang of a door slamming shut somewhere above jerked her out of another restless sleep. Blinking blearily, she peered out at the darkness around her, attempting to find something to focus on. Since she was in an unfamiliar and terrifying situation, she wasn't comfortable enough to actually rest, so she ended up taking little cat-naps. The slightest sound or sense of movement would have her eyes flying open as she curled in on herself for what little amount of protection she could muster.

  Straining her memory far beyond what she'd thought possible, a vague recollection of an echo of footsteps came back to her. How she'd even remembered that, she wasn't sure. The steps were quiet, but something must have been just enough out of place to draw her attention for a moment. Someone had been on the path with her after the dog ran off sated, but who?

  Staring at the dingy gray and broken ceiling tiles, she shifted to try to find a more cushy spot on the mattress to lay. There really wasn't one, but she continued every hour or so to test it. Never know, the foam may decide to pop back every now and again, and she didn't want to miss a little bit of comfort. There was no pillow or blanket, just a lumpy foam mattress set on a bare metal frame with uncomfortable springs underneath.

  Someone brought a stale sandwich hours ago, possibly even yesterday. It was unceremoniously shoved through a slot in the metal door she hadn't noticed until it'd popped open with a grating clang. The seal was remarkably well hidden. Yelling and pleading hadn't done her any favors. Heavy thudding footsteps retreated quickly as soon as she'd tried attempting to bargain for freedom, but there'd been no sound of movement after that.

  The relative quiet enticed her into an uneasy stupor. Aware and awake, yet unfocused. Hunger gnawed at her belly, but she knew there was likely no chance of getting anything palatable to eat here, wherever here was. Especially not after she'd overstepped whatever boundaries they had by begging to be released last time.

  As dim light began to steal over the small room, she was able to make out more of her surroundings. The window near the ceiling was covered with heavy bars, but let in just enough light to keep her from being in darkness once the sun rose high enough. Concrete floors were cold and slightly damp under her bare feet if she stood too close to the cinder block walls. Everything was gray and drab, the smell of mildew lingering in the air. Some sort of basement or crawlspace, then.

  Pressing her ear to the door as quietly as physically possible, she closed her eyes as she focused all of her attention on attempting to use the ambient noises to figure out where she might be. A low growl, deep with menace, emanated too close for comfort as something thudded against the door hard enough to send her skittering backwards in fear. The door was thick, and whatever that was outside had shaken it to the foundations.

  With a yelp, she scurried to the back of the pitiful mattress, her eyes wide as a terrified female scream echoed around her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she curled into as small of a target as she could in order to hide from whatever was out there. Her back against the cold wall, she drew her knees up to her chest, attempting to protect as much of her body as possible.

  Barely realizing it, she had begun to rock herself back and forth, reminiscent of the way patients in asylums used to do long ago. The repetitive motion gave her some illusion of control over herself as, for the first time since she'd woken here, the prison she was in came alive. High-pitched feminine screams rose above the guttural, animalistic noises, the cacophony all around her increasing the sheer terror she felt.

  When she'd woken here, all she'd wanted was to break free. Now? She prayed to a God she didn't believe in that the door stayed firmly closed on this nightmare until she was able to wake up warm and safe in her own bed.

  Chapter Two

  She had no idea how long she'd been here. She was judging the days by the periods of light she had in between the darkness, as well as the one or two meals her captor brought each day. Her entire world had narrowed to this 8x8 cell. She only knew the rough size because she'd paced it more than a few times whenever things were quiet and she felt safe enough to move, to work out pent up frustration.

  Every once in a while, the screams would start again after a few hours of peace. The noises echoed through the small space, making her cover her ears with her hands in a desperate effort to keep her sanity.
She had no idea what was going on, nor did she truly want to. Yet she knew if she had been snagged with these other women, her time would come.

  She crouched in the corner again, miserably eating a few pieces of dry toast with some disgusting fruit spread on it. It wasn't appetizing in the slightest, especially as she'd been given a water bottle with only a few sips of water left in it to wash it down. She'd never really cared for jams or jellies. However, she'd realized quickly that she had to eat whatever her captor shoved through the grate, because it was the only thing he'd give. She'd be lucky to get a second meal each day, sometimes he forgot to bring anything else down. She would continue taking in nourishment no matter what it was, because she was damn well going to survive this.

  She'd given up believing that it was a nightmare. She'd tried so hard to hold on to the illusion, to keep it in her head that she'd wake up and laugh, wondering what she'd watched that had caused such a strange thing. She'd pinched herself, pulled her hair, even dragged her arm across the rough cement in an attempt to shake herself free of this dream, but nothing worked. No, she had to face the fact that this was likely entirely too real.

  Each time she noted the terror happening outside, she found herself wondering who the women were. How many were here? Did they have families that were missing them? Was someone, somewhere submitting police reports, showing up on the news to ask for help?

  Whenever her mind wandered down that road, her throat tightened, eyes watering as she fought back the breakdown that wanted to happen. Was anyone worried about her? Had anyone noticed she was missing at all? She had to believe there was. There wasn't another option, her mind needed to feel like rescue was on the way, and she just had to survive until then.

  She'd been dozing, halfway between reality and dreamland, when the "click" of a lock turning echoed. Instantly awake, she scooted back against the chilled stone, knees drawn up protectively again. She knew that sound. She'd caught it often, before the terror of the noises she couldn't place started. This time though, it was her door. Ignoring it, she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. She wasn't going out there. She'd been party to the attacks and growls. The high-pitched terrified screams that rang through this stark prison.

  At least in here, she was relatively safe. Whoever kidnapped her hadn't stepped foot into the room. He simply shoved food through a slot once or twice a day and so far had shown no signs of wanting any contact with her, which suited her just fine. As she sat, darkness starting to steal over the area, doubts began to creep in. If the animals were out there, and her door was unlocked, they could push their way in since the lock was manual and the door opened inward. Her cell was too small to run in, with nowhere to hide. As petrified as she was of what could be out there, the thought of being trapped in here with whatever made those sounds was infinitely worse.

  Reaching beneath the bed, she pried loose the one spring with her fingertips. During one of her searches for anything she could use as a weapon, she followed eerie scratch marks on the thin edge of the metal frame that held the mattress. Surprised, she found someone had been slowly working on sharpening a metal prong they'd pulled from beneath the springs. Every night, she continued the work, prying up the spring to remove the prong that held it, sharpening it on the concrete wall until she felt ready to pass out of exhaustion. Before she fell asleep and succumbed, she always made certain to tuck it back out of sight. Just in case.

  Finding it had served to push her determination further. Knowing a woman had shared this same space and wasn't here now, it made her realize how precarious the situation was. Those women whose screams were burned into her brain would have others to replace them, just as she'd replaced whoever had been in this room.

  She refused to be another statistic in the papers or to think about what had happened to the others, or how many had come before her. It wouldn't do to dwell on hopelessness, not when she needed her wits to escape. She would make it out alive, no matter what she had to do to achieve it.

  Her work seemed to have paid off since she wasn't going out unarmed. The metal blade was small, and wouldn't do much damage. She'd have preferred something larger, but at least this fit in her palm, so it wouldn't be easily noticed. It was better than nothing, at any rate. Tucking it against her skin, she tentatively pulled the door open a scant inch, putting her face to the crack to see if she could see anything. She kept her body just behind it, so at the first sign of movement, she could slam it shut and brace herself against it.

  Bare industrial bulbs swung from metal cages hanging from the ceiling, cobwebs stubbornly clinging to the frames as they moved. It cast disconcerting shadows across the walls. From what she could see, the place was shaped like some sort of tunnel, with rooms like hers on each side and a corridor down the middle. When she couldn't see anything, she pulled the door open further, waiting to hear something... anything from the other side.

  There was nothing. The silence caused almost as much dread as the screams. She wouldn't have thought it possible, but it was true. Letting out a breath, she closed her eyes. Well, she could die cowering in a room alone like a scared rabbit, or she could attempt to escape and die fighting for her freedom. Of the two, she'd much rather choose the one that at least had a 50/50 chance of her getting the hell out of this nightmare.

  Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door all the way, glancing down both sides to see if she could spot anything. To the left, the narrow hallway ended in another cement wall. To the right, it looked like it had another light source that seemed as if it was coming from higher up. Stairs?

  She took a hesitant step, then another. With each step she paused, listening for someone to come running. Blade palmed, she carefully made her way towards the stairs. One foot in front of the other. Quiet as a mouse to not arouse suspicions. She'd even shut the door to her cell behind her, so if someone did look, her absence wouldn't be noticed as quickly. Or so she hoped. Her foot had barely touched the first step when she heard a snort from behind her. A growl. Every instinct told her not to look back. To simply run. Heart pounding in her chest, that's exactly what she did.

  Chapter Three

  She must have surprised whatever was behind her. It was the only excuse she could come up with for why she wasn't immediately attacked. As soon as she recognized the noise, she'd kicked off with all her might to scale the stairs at a record pace. The dilapidated metal door wasn't locked, so she burst out of it at speed, not even feeling the pain as she slammed into it to force it outward.

  She'd seen enough to realize she'd been kept in some sort of bunker, but didn't dare look back. She'd try to remember the area to send help, but she had no intentions of returning, so she couldn't spare the time to turn around. The sight of rusty red stains on the steps and doors told her few got this far, and if they did, they were pretty wounded at the time.

  She was going to make sure to do better than whoever had come before her. She wasn't giving in and she damn well wasn't giving up. Hearing a shout from the direction she'd come from, she ducked behind a large tree and froze, heart pounding nearly out of control. Trying to slow her breathing, she pressed a hand to the stitch in her side, willing herself to think clearly instead of reacting on instinct.

  If she was still in the same area where she'd been grabbed, there was a stream in the woods. Somewhere. If she could get to the stream, it could possibly stop the animals from being able to track her, and provide her with a way to hide footprints in the ground itself. Unfortunately, she didn't have anything to judge direction by. There was supposed to be something about following the sunlight, another was something about mold on the trees. Without being able to remember exactly what the survival tips were, she was scared that she'd get herself deeper.

  Shaking her head in frustration, she determinedly started moving through the trees, following the direction of the sun as best as she could while studiously ignoring the branches tearing at her skin and clothes. The one thing she was most thankful for was that her shoes had been left on when she'd been t
ossed into the room the first time, and whoever had snatched her hadn't bothered to retrieve them and leave her barefooted. She'd been able to put them on before escaping, which protected her feet from the sticks, stones, and who knew what else on the wooded floor.

  Terror beat at her, energy pulsing in her veins as she zigzagged, trying to make it harder for anyone to shoot her. Wasn't that the first thing people said to do if you were being chased and weren't sure if there was a weapon trained on you? She thought it was. So concerned with making herself a smaller target, she never noticed the tangled root that lifted upwards until she went sprawling, the sound of dried vegetation sounding incredibly loud to her ears. There was no way that anyone close to her hadn't heard that.

  Scrambling to her feet, she glanced left and right, trying to formulate a better plan, knowing that her pursuers couldn't be too far behind her. This was one of those moments where she wished she'd paid more attention in school, or joined the Girl Scouts, something. Survival skills would definitely come in handy now. Incredibly, she could make out a faint path just to her left. It was overgrown and unused, but if there was a path, it had to lead to somewhere, right?

  That thought uppermost, she tried to move slower as she picked her way through the foliage in an attempt to not leave as much evidence of where she'd run. Her footsteps were in a circle at the split, and she'd used the dead leaves to work her way back to the path, so they'd have to pick one. The baying howls that echoed sounded close... too close. Her stomach seemed as if it had taken permanent residence in her throat, she was simply moving out of fear now, unwilling to think of what would happen if she was found.