The Dead World Ch. 13

The windows were blacked out with strips of old newspapers, and what looked to be black spray paint. Much of the furniture was missing from this suite, nearly all save the lone chair and the bed itself. She twisted and ripped and fought against the solid, police issue cuffs holding her to the bed, hellbent on escape, until the metal bit into her skin so deeply it left her raw and bleeding.

No, it didn't take her long at all to realize that it was very much a prison of the cruelest design. And in the forefront of her mind was the night before, a fog of a memory so vague and clouded in her thoughts that it seemed more like the most demented nightmare her mind could conceive than actual reality. She could barely recall it... only hellish fragments of Skully, and Dog...

Truly, she didn't want to remember it.

Dog had done his best to leave her comfortable. It was no easy feat to dress her handcuffed to a fucking bed, but he had done his best, suiting her with her bra and panties. The straps detached at the place where they met small clasps at the back, and over her he had placed the shirt from his back, something he could not successfully manage to get on her with her hands bound to the headboard. It was uncomfortably cold in the room. If she wanted to remember anything about it, it was what had happened when the nightmare finally ended... what had happened to Dog...

She could remember tears... and her own soft voice, his gentle touch...

Her heart absolutely sank, far less for herself and entirely for the younger male, who if not for her would have never been in the position he was in. The guilt was almost maddening and she couldn't quite bite back a few more hot tears as she cursed herself for dragging him into her mess, and eventually when trying to squeeze her hands through the tightly locked cuffs became too painful to bare, she began to call out for anyone who might be able to hear her desperate cries for help.

Not having the faintest idea where she was did her no favors. There was no way to tell if the power worked here to be able to guess what floor she was even on, she could've been in the northern tower, for all she knew... knowing Skully, he was keeping her well out of sight and mind of anyone who might be able to come to her aid.

Hours seemed to drag, and eventually, Charlie abandoned any attempts at getting free, realizing she was hurting herself more than helping. Instead she lay there, her soft brown eyes leering hatefully up at the ceiling as she played thoughts of revenge over and over in her mind. Some part of her desperately wanted to fight the impulsive thoughts away

Some part of her still wanted to cling to the peaceful and forgiving nature she had always known herself to have. But this time, she found it harder than ever to seek out her light. She wanted to hurt that man. She wanted him dead. It frightened her, truly, to let her mind wander such dark and damning paths.

When the locks began to turn on the door, her eyes shot over, the absolute seething malice glowing within them like wildfire. Maybe she should have been afraid, but by now, what did she have to fear? There wasn't much Skully could do that he hadn't already, right? Nothing short of killing the only person she had come to care for in front of her eyes... but for all of his evil, demented spirit, he seemed far more intent on forcing submission and obedience out of Daniel over killing him.

The door swung open, but it was not at all who she had expected. It also wasn't at all someone she hoped to see.

The tall blonde appeared, not suited any differently than he ever was. He wore a heavy black sleek cold-weather jacket, insulated and hooded for terrain, overtop a dark tank with darker camouflage woodland fatigue pants. His laced combat boots were sullied in the trademark clay from wandering the wilderness much of the day before. It was a rare occasion that she found him without the hatchet attached to his belt.

As he closed the door behind him, he leaned back against it and crossed one leg over the other, and stood there for a long time with that snarky, lop-sided grin pulled over his lips. He finally shook his head with an exasperated sigh, but before he could speak, Charlie ripped her hands against her binds. Her usually soft voice was a strained, hoarse hiss, her throat raw and irritated from the forceful evening before.

"Go to fucking hell Slash--I know you had something to fucking do with this--"

"Ay, chill the fuck out, girlie--ya don't know shit. Now I told yer ass, didn't I?" His brow furrowed sharply, not taking too kindly to the accusation that he had any part of the night that ended with her bound and captive.

"I told ya, a day was fuckin' pushin' it, but I held up my fuckin' end of the deal. I kept his ass out all fuckin' day. I practically gift wrapped it for ya--talked Oz into sendin' the boy up--shit, we damn near filled the fuckin' death trap ourselves 'n doubled back out to find yer fuckin' buck. Came back well after sunset... an' what do ya fuckin' morons do? Have a whole fuckin' sleepover!"

"Fuck off, you fucking liar."

The wicked grin upon the mechanic's lips only seemed to further her absolute rage, her dark eyebrows knitting together viciously, only succeeding in earning an uproarious bout of laughter from the slightly older man. He shook his head again, almost sympathetically, before shrugging his shoulders.

"Hey, hey... I know, it was bad... but it coulda been a lot worse. Ya could be fuckin' dead, not just fucked raw and tied to a bed. Skully's on a fuckin' warpath and somehow ya just keep stumblin' right into his crosshairs, Dove."

"Don't... call me that." She had never looked so vicious before... a positively pissed off little kitten, puffed up and showing her little claws, as far as Slash was concerned.

"If the boot fits, sweetheart, ain't like it doesn't suit ya... I think it's growin' on me ta be honest. Lil' Dove... soft as silk, ain't ya?" He crossed the room, taking the sole chair and sliding it to the end of the bed, turning it around to perch cheerily upon it and cross his arms as he watched the livid woman glare at him from her bound position. His sharp green eyes rose to the stark contrast of sanguine tint smeared against the white pillows and down her slim arms, shaking his head.

"...Ya want loose? When's the last fuckin' time you ate somethin'?"

"All I want is for you to fuck off, Slash."

"Don't act tough, lil' shit. Yer in a rough way... the more ya fight, the worse it'll be. So are ya fuckin' hungry and do ya want loose, or not?"

She hadn't even thought about hunger. Up until this point Charlie felt her energy was derived almost entirely from her boiling rage and smoldering hatred for the predators dwelling in the group. To be honest, she had eaten far less in the month or so the men had occupied the resort than she had ever before, and even then it was always sparing... enough to stave off the feeling of hunger while never quite feeling full. That was the way of the world now.

She had been far more focused on trying to break free of them than nourishing herself... but here, now... she felt it. The mention of hunger seemed to bring to realization of exactly that crashing down upon her, the painful, dull emptiness of her stomach causing a small bit of her aggression to subside. Slash watched her for a long while before giving an absent minded shrug, and moving to stand.

"I guess not--"

"W-wait--yes... I am... I do--just... what are you playing at?"

"No games, Dove. Just felt for ya after I heard about yer lil' party last night... he ain't gonna keep ya here, noways. Be grateful fer that. He could if he wanted to, soon enough nobody's gonna say shit against it... but I guess he likes ta think we're not like the rest, out there, like his brother."

He moved around to the side of the bed, and let his eyes sweep the half clothed Charlie, who lay still and waited impatiently as he produced a key from the deep pocket of his fatigues and moved to undo one handcuff from her bloodied wrists. She winced sharply as the metal released, her wrists rubbed raw with shallow cuts springing fresh droplets of blood. He sucked a breath through his teeth and shook his head in disapproval.

"Tch, right mess ya made, girly. Ya figured shit out by now, ain'tcha? If one of ya fuck up, its the other one who'll pay up. Skully ain't fuckin' dumb. Ya play him like he is and it's only gonna make shit worse..."

"You're both evil, and fucked in the head--why do you let him do the things he does? I thought you wanted to be different from the monsters you're always talking about." She glared, watching his eyes meet her's, the playful almost roguish charm faltering as he adopted a very serious and stern tone with her.

"Baby, you haven't seen true fuckin' evil... an' better he take his shit out on you than me. I know the fuckin' order of things, I don't fight it--y'know, before we stumbled by ya we had a few others in the group... newcomers, too, all of 'em since turned on us. We all got scars from the strays we tried takin' in. I think that's why he can't stand yer lil' ass. After the last one, Oz said never again--ya won't sit the fuck still and follow the rules, and now ya got Dog all outta sorts 'n wrapped around yer lil' pinky... but ain't shit for free in this world anymore, Dove. Fall in line."

"I didn't ask for any of you to be here--"

"Yeah, but here we fuckin' are, so fair fuckin' warnin'... fall in. Skully ain't a patient man. If somethin' awful happens to ya, brought it on yerself, kid... don't say I ain't warn ya." He unsnapped the final handcuff from her wrist, and she quickly turned away from him, snatching Dog's t-shirt as she did so.

His eyes followed, moving to the still healing wound upon her right shoulder, which looked infinitely better than the last time he had seen it... unusually so. The red and raw flesh he expected to be rough, gnarly and scabbed over was already peeling and smoothing and looked far from a mess of a wound that had seen traumatic injury and cauterization. He was no medical professional, but it was showing far more advanced signs of healing than he expected to see. It was beyond unusual.

She pulled the shirt over her head before he could question it, paying little to no mind to the blood that stained the worn piece of fabric from her wrists, pushing her hair over her shoulder impatiently. She felt a twinge of vertigo and nausea from rising from the bare mattress so quickly. The change of positions led to fresh aches and pains, and a throbbing rawness between her legs in her most intimate places that reminded her of the night before in all the worst ways. She swallowed hard, unable to rid herself of the irritation and hoarseness she felt burning her throat, her gaze hard and sullen as she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Where's Dog?"

"Busy." Slash was moving away from her now, back toward the door, and as Charlie slowly rose to stand and follow him he smirked, and shook his head.

"I said I'd cut ya loose, not that ya could leave. Skully'll kick my ass I let ya walk out of here while he's workin' on shit..."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means sit yer lil' ass the fuck down and wait for me ta bring ya somethin' ta eat. See if the water runs up here or some shit... yer high up, an' out the way, until shit is settled."

"What the fuck does that even mean?!" He closed the door before she could even finish the statement, and she would have greatly loved to break something, or throw something after him... if there had been any such items available. All she could do was seethe at the now closed and locked door before rounding toward the balcony, and moving to try the sliding glass door. It didn't even think to budge.

With absolute fury Charlie took the chair and threw it with all her might against the glass, only all the more pissed when the heavy wooden piece of furniture merely bounced against it and fell unceremoniously to the floor. To say she had grown very, very tired by now of being pushed and pulled in every direction by the less than sane men in this group was an understatement.

She moved to the dusky, dark restroom at the back of the suite flipping the switch several times before realizing he was telling the truth. Skully had trapped her higher up than the fifth floor. She tried the faucet, pleasantly surprised that the water still ran, and after a long time of letting it purge the pipes of impurities she leaned down and used her hand to eagerly scoop handfuls up to her lips. When it seemed she couldn't do that quickly enough, she all but craned into the sink to drink deeply from the tap, the cool water most soothing to her tight and tensed throat.

It wasn't long after that Charlie felt her way through the dim lit space toward the shower, and turned on the hot water, the steam rapidly filling the room. She scrambled through the darkness, checking the countertop for the small complimentary bottles of soaps and shampoos the hotel had once left for their guest, and was pleasantly surprised to find that they hadn't been removed nor the towels from the bathroom linen shelves.

The scent of sex was heavy upon her, and in a most unpleasant way. She was happy to strip bare and spend time beneath the hot stream of water, feeling the tension ease from her muscles and the warmth soak into her bones. The room was less frigid for the steam that filled it as well. Her hazy recollection of the night prior kept trying to drag itself into the forefront of her mind, whether to distract from her concerns of the ongoings of the men in the resort below her, she was uncertain. She didn't trust Slash, not for a moment, but he had no reason to lie unless he simply got some sadistic sort of satisfaction at raising her hopes just to see them crushed...

It wouldn't have made any sense to her, though. He could have been here last night, torturing her right along with the man he had pledged fealty to and followed above the others, but for whatever reason Charlie couldn't recall his presence at all. She was quick to turn the water off and not let herself become too absorbed by the small comfort, hurriedly drying herself and sweeping her damp hair up to the top of her head, winding the curly coils around themselves in a loose knot out of her way before she moved once again to the balcony door.

Her wrists had stopped bleeding, but the redness and soreness of the open wounds had not gone. She placed both hands upon the sliding door, flipping the lock first, and pulling with all of her might. Through gritted teeth the woman brought a dainty bare foot up to the small ledge of the adjacent wall and put every ounce of her strength into forcing the door open, hearing the seal splintering at long last and the door roughly sliding open a few inches. Early daylight poured through the small sliver of space, and fresh air, and the sound of waves.

Her fingertips were all but numb as she gave one final pull, the door sliding only a few inches more before it refused to budge any farther. There wasn't enough space to squeeze through, not even for petite Charlotte... but she could see now how very high up she was, and the ocean, and the room was not pitch black any longer making the minutes seem to last for weeks without any way to tell whether it was day or night. If there were any rooms above her, she would have been surprised.

Even if she could have gotten it open, trying to get down from such a height would have been nearly impossible for her. Dog had done something like it several times before, but along with being far more physically capable than she was, he didn't share her fear of heights. There was no telling at all if any reanimates were lurking in rooms so high up, either. They'd have been starved for nearly seven years by now, yes... but she still had no desire to encounter even a starving feral corpse.

The sound of the locks turning again drew her attention, but not enough to dissuade her from chipping away at the painted paper material glued over the balcony door with the handcuffs. Slash couldn't help but to laugh at the sight of her there on the floor, barely dressed with a towel around her shoulders, having pried open the door to the best of her ability angrily scraping bits of spray painted paper from the window. He shut the door, and locked it behind him, well aware that Charlie was glaring over her shoulder as he neared and placed the tray upon the ground.

"I'll tell ya what, girly... yer a spunky, hard-headed ass woman Charlotte. When we first met ya were such a mousy lil' thing, now lookat'cha. Spitfire lil' shit... defiant as ever." He fetched the fallen chair, and put distance between them, his back to the door leading out from the suite not at all unsurprised that Charlie dropped the blood stained cuffs and pulled the tray across, taking the bowl and all but devouring the rich venison stew within'. The slightly older man kept an ample eye, crossing one leg over the other as they extended out before him. She glared daggers between eager mouthfuls, her back to the partially uncovered window.

"I can't sit in here with it pitch black... I'll end up fucking insane, like you assholes." She started bluntly. She didn't have to look up to feel the smug spread of delight over his features. He nodded his head, languidly, and she couldn't help but to roll her eyes. "And I still don't believe you're not after something..."

"If it makes ya happy I guess...."

"...why weren't you here last night?" She looked down, not at all certain what made her curious. Slash was slowly working his way down from the top of her shit list, replaced by his leader by this point, who had without a doubt easily become her greatest nemesis.

"Nah, I'm not one for sharin', or gettin' anyone twisted outta shape. That's Skully. Y'know... yer the first thing that boy's ever put hands on, figure he's never gonna forget that shit... helluva way to lose your virginity. Like I said... right fuckin' mess ya made of it. I ain't want no part in it."

The thought had certainly stolen her appetite, or perhaps it was the fact that she had eaten so little in the last few weeks that half of the serving had registered as more than sufficient. Either way, she set the ceramic bowl back down onto the tray, and slid it away from her slowly, pulling her knees up to her chest and curling her slim arms around them. There were those prangs of guilt again. She stared at him in quiet agitation for a long few moments before her quiet voice rose again.

"...What did he do? ...to make me forget it?"

"Sedated you with somethin' he swiped from the safezone... best to behave, pretty thing. He's got others." The twinge of irritation at the idea that it could happen again, the way her little nose wrinkled only caused him to chuckle, and he finally moved to stand, stretching his arms over his head.

"...where are you going?"

"Got some shit to tend to. Why? Gonna miss me? I'll come back and check on ya later on, bring ya somethin' more ta eat... sit tight, dollface--an' try not to fuck anythin' else up, alright?"

----------

The sun had fallen behind thick, dark clouds once more, with a certain promise of rain this week. The mechanic was thankful for it. The fact that nobody had come rushing through the area, even after their new enemies had begun to put the signal out into the air trying to see if anyone still remained brought a small sense of peace... incredibly small as it were. He hadn't managed to get the military transport running, and they were desperately running out of time.

It came to the point where he had to scrap the patch work entirely and focus on a far more challenging thought. Doubling back to the coast guard safe zone to go through the shells of the remaining military vehicles in hopes of finding a suitable matching replacement to the dead injector pump. Without it, the odds were shot entirely on getting the vehicle back running, and being so low on regular fuel would mean that the caravan of the RV, Ruthless' truck, and the gas-guzzler antique sports car weren't likely to make it to the state line, if they made it that far.