Authors: Adam Millard
'We're gonna go, now,' Rooster said. 'Make our way out of this hellhole together. If any of you try to follow, I
will
shoot you. And
you
, missy, had better behave, otherwise I won't be gentle with you when it comes to it, and then you'll wish that I'd shot you to begin with.'
He grabbed Marla by the hair and spun her around. She squeaked, and then stifled it. Shane thought about lunging for them, but there was no way he would make it in time. Rooster was definitely unhinged, and not lying about shooting people.
Rooster dragged her backwards, through the darkness of the corridor. Her feet shuffled with recalcitrance, but she had no choice; she had to do what the prick with the guns said.
'Bye-bye, boys,' Rooster laughed, and then he was gone, disappearing in the direction from which the group had just come.
Marla yelped as the sound of a pistol slamming against flesh reached the group.
'Well, I wasn't expecting that,' Terry Lewis said. 'We
are
going after her, aren't we?'
Shane shook his head. '
I
am, but the rest of you should get out of here while you have the chance.'
Jared, from the floor, breathed a heavy sigh of relief and began to cry again.
'I'm coming with you,' Michaelson said, rubbing at the reddened area on his temple where the gun had been pressed. 'That fucker needs a slap.'
'Terry,' Shane said. 'I want you to take Jared and get out of here. You know the code, right?'
Terry nodded. 'Seven-four-seven-one,' he said. 'But that's no good. What about the fingerprint scanner?'
Shane scratched his head, and then said, 'I've already thought about that.' He glanced down at the bullet-riddled body of Jenson. 'I'll do the honours.'
He dropped to his knees, pulled out the blade – Billy's blade – and began to carve the fingers off the dead guard's hand.
*
'You're going the wrong way,' Marla sneered, wiping away the blood that had started to dribble from the corner of her mouth. 'They have the codes to get out of here.'
'Whatever,' Rooster said, pulling Marla's hair so ferociously that some of it snapped off in his hand. She yelped, but that was all. 'We're going to get out of here
my
way. That, of course, is
after
. First, me and you are going to get it on, and if you know what's good for you, you'll do what I say. If you want to live, and a pretty little thing like you
should
wanna live, then best behaviour, please. I promise you'll enjoy it. Probably not as much as me, but you
will
.'
The thought of the crazed lunatic penetrating her, forcing himself on her, made her sick to her stomach. Why was it that all men, the ones that she had met recently, anyway, just wanted to rape or molest her? Was she giving off some sort of signal, something that she was completely unaware of?
Fuck no!
She was in a prison, filled with incarcerated murderers and rapists; some of that must rub off on the guards, who had been almost as revolting as the inmates – Tyler certainly was, and Marla wasn't sure that Jenson had been the full ticket.
'Ahh, here we are,' Rooster said. They had reached a door, glass-panelled, and as Rooster turned the knob there came a click. The door swung inwards. 'Perfect. A place to call our own,' he sniggered. 'After you.'
Marla may not have been panicking on the outside, but her insides were turning over like a cement-mixer. She knew that she was going to vomit ten seconds before it actually happened, but it still came as quite a shock.
'That's no way to behave,' Rooster said, brushing the hair away from her face. 'Anyone would think that you didn't
fancy
me anymore.'
The rawness of her stomach, and the pain from the retching, served to make it almost impossible to prevent further projectile vomiting, but she somehow managed to control it; Rooster's hand, brushing gently across her cheek as if he were her mother trying to soothe her, made her angry, and it was all that she could do not to smash him in the fucking face and hope for the best.
'Better?' Rooster asked, taking a step into the room. He extended his hand and provided Marla with a curtsey. 'Shall we?'
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be real. She could believe all of the other stuff – the fact that there were people walking around out there, or what used to be people, trying to eat humans – but somehow, knowing that she was about to be raped by an inmate seemed almost too far-fetched to be true.
She stepped into the room, not having any other choice. 'Promise me one thing,' she said, wiping a tear away from her eye.
'Sure, sweetie,' Rooster said, licking his lips as if they had been coated with sugar. 'Anything for you.'
Anything for me, fuck you, you fucking gimp!
'Please don't hurt me.'
As soon as she said it, she realised how pathetic she sounded. She might as well have asked him to lie back while she did all of the work. Her mind began to run diagnostics, trying to figure out why she had said something so utterly demoralising, but couldn't reach a suitable conclusion.
'I won't hurt you,' Rooster said. He pulled her gently into the room by the wrist, a massive grin stretched from one ear to the other. 'Do you like chess?'
Marla had no idea what to say, but the longer the conversation went on, at least nothing bad was happening to her – well, nothing
worse
.
'I
love
chess,' she gasped, hoping that it would evolve into a full-blown conversation about the game, preferably with a rundown of the rules and a few anecdotal exchanges.
'Then you're gonna fucking
love
this,' Rooster said, and then he was on top of her, his hand fumbling between them, searching for the button of his coveralls. He was licking her face, trying to push his tongue into her mouth, but she clenched her lips tightly, promising herself that whatever happened, whatever he did to her body, he wouldn't be getting past her lips.
He grunted as he released himself from the trousers. She could feel him, savage and hard, as he pressed against her leg.
She wanted to bite it off.
Chew
it off, even, the way one of those creatures would.
He panted, his tongue slipping down to her neck. She felt like she was going to be sick again, but knew that if she did he would make her pay for it. As he tore at her clothes, yanking her skirt across and breaking all eight buttons of her blouse simultaneously, she tried to push her mind to somewhere else...somewhere safe. She couldn't. All she could think of was the conversation with Charles Dean, the one that practically terminated her contract with the prison.
How she wished that she had done that yesterday, or the day before. She would have been out of it, safe, untouched.
Rooster writhed around on top of her. She could hardly breathe as his full weight collapsed down, forcing any air she had amassed out of her lungs. Rooster must have mistook her forced exhalation as an aroused whimper.
'You
like
that, huh?' he said, licking her neck, trailing his slimy tongue up and down as if he were painting a fence with it. He grunted, pushed her legs further apart, and was about to enter her when he was pulled backwards.
Marla exhaled as the massive weight was removed from her. She couldn't see what was happening; for all she knew, Rooster was getting into a better position. Perhaps the guilt was too much for him, and he could no longer fuck her face to face.
Then, she heard the voice, and she instantly began to cry.
'Are you okay?' Shane asked; he was pulling her clothes back across so that she was no longer exposed. He was to the side of her, and she had never been so happy to see someone in all of her life.
She reached up and hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him downwards. She planted a massive kiss on his cheek before bursting into tears once again.
'It's okay,' Shane said, helping her to her feet. She stumbled a little, but he made sure that she was stable enough. 'Everything's going to be okay now.'
Marla shook her head. 'He was going to rape me,' she cried. 'Fucking sick bastard was going to rape me.'
'I know,' Shane said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'Well, he ain't gonna be doing anything to hurt you now.' He pointed across the room, and Marla was pleased with what she saw.
Michaelson had his pistols back, for one. Two, they were both pressed against Rooster Hill, one to the head, one to the balls, which hung loosely from the coveralls. His erection had vanished, and his penis had shrivelled to about the size of a cigarette butt.
'Just say the word,' Michaelson said. 'I'll gladly pull the trigger.
Both
of 'em.'
It was Rooster's turn to whimper. 'I wasn't gonna
hurt
her, man!' he cried. 'It was just a
game
.'
Shane stepped towards him; Marla reached out and touched his arm. Whether she was trying to stop him, or simply urging him on, Shane didn't know.
'You're one sick sonofabitch,' Shane grunted. 'Everything's falling down around here, there are fucking
monsters
out there,' he jabbed a finger towards the door, 'and you thought you could just rape this lady?'
'I wasn't gonna
—
'
Suddenly, appearing between the doorframe, was Governor Dean, the hole in his stomach oozing blackened viscera, his eyes wildly snapping around the room, trying to figure out how he had befallen such a treat.
Shane grabbed Marla and pulled her aside, just as the governor lunged into the room, spewing dark bile from his throat. Rooster sensed he had an opportunity to redeem himself, and grabbed for one of the pistols in Michaelson's hand. The guard whipped the handle of the pistol across Rooster's face, and he fell to the ground, rolling into the wall with a dramatic thud.
Marla tried to persuade herself, once again, that what she was seeing was just a nightmare, something that she could blink away if she tried hard enough. She was grateful that Shane and the guard had managed to prevent her from being raped, but now
this
. It was a neverending reverie of inexplicable terror.
Across the room, Michaelson tried to fire. One of the pistols went off; the bullet hit the creature in the face, shattering its jawbone and spraying it across the wall. It wasn't enough, though, and it was when Michaelson attempted to fire the second pistol that he realised he was in trouble.
Nothing happened.
'Shoot it!' Marla screamed, trying to push herself as far into the corner as physics allowed.
Michaelson fumbled with the gun, trying to figure out why it hadn't fired, but he couldn't. It had jammed, and there was no time to play around with a gun that was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. He tossed it aside, took aim, and fired at the sluggish figure approaching. There was a moment when Michaelson anticipated the second gun failing, too, so when it went off, blowing the right ear off the side of the governor's face, he was almost surprised.
Shane grabbed Marla and pulled her towards the door. She, being terrified beyond belief, tried to resist, but she had to trust the man doing the pulling. He'd saved her life already, and would probably do the same before the end of the day. She gave in to his tugs, momentum carried them both towards the door. Once through it, Shane checked that there were no more where Charles Dean had just come from, and ordered Marla to stay put.
'Don't leave me,' she sobbed. It was okay to be scared now; even if she could, she didn't think she would be able to conceal it.
'I have to help Michaelson,' Shane said. 'We need him alive to get out of here.'
Marla hadn't thought of that. 'Just be careful,' she said, which was something that he had already considered. As Shane swung around and disappeared back into the room, Marla placed her head in her hands and began to cry uncontrollably.
Shane re-entered the room with Billy-s knife drawn, and it was a good job that he had the foresight to do so. The creature was in the middle of the room, snapping from side to side, trying to figure out which of them – Michaelson or Rooster – would put up the least resistance. It seemed to know that the guard could kill it with whatever it was he held in his hand, and so opted for Rooster, who was cowering behind a chair in the corner.
Shane didn't give two shits about Rooster; he was a rapist, a murderer. To help him now – which was what Shane's heart was telling him to do – was against his own moral fibre. Every man deserved a second chance, but the man cowering behind the chair, trying to keep Charles Dean at bay, had already had his, and chosen to fuck it up.
'Michaelson,' Shane said, trying to get the guard's attention without the peripherals of the creature – assuming it still
had
peripherals – catching him. Luckily, the guard nodded and began to move around the edge of the room, furtively. Rooster, who still had his cock and balls out, tried to clamber to his feet, and it was then that he realised what was going on.
'No!' he screamed. 'You
can't
!'
He picked up the chair and tossed it towards the encroaching warden. It clattered against Dean's head, splitting his eye wide open, but that only made it angrier. It ran the final few feet and pounced.