Claire nodded her head. "I know."
"But I saved you."
Claire started to calm down. She managed to get a better look at the man standing in front of her. He was big. Tattoos spread across his forearms. Sticking out the side of his mouth was a toothpick.
"Thank you," she said. She was still a bit shaken and tired. She stood up slowly and brushed her clothes off.
"Looks like you had a pretty rough time escapin'."
"I made my way through the forest," she explained.
"Your face is all fucked up."
Claire lifted her hands to her face and touched her skin. It was painful. She pulled her fingers away. They were covered in blood.
"It's too bad too," the man continued. "You're a pretty hot piece of ass."
"What?" she asked, unsure if she had heard correctly.
The man laughed. "Oh," he said. "No reason to be all modest. You're fuckin' hot and you know it. Must drive the college boys wild."
Claire couldn't respond. She wanted to leave and turned to do so.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" the man asked.
Claire turned back around. "I was going to try to get back home," she lied. She had no intention of going home. But she didn't want to stay here any longer, either.
The man shook his head. "No," he said. "That's not a good idea. Too dangerous."
"I'll be okay. Thank you for your help."
The man laughed again. "Thank you? Is that all? Tha
t
thin
g
there was gonna kill you and I stopped him. And all you're gonna give me is a 'thank you'?"
"I don't have any money."
The man laughed once more. "I don't want your money. Wouldn't do any good, anyway. I think this disease...or whatever it is...has happened all over the world. Already seen a bunch of 'em along the road. Fuckers crashed into my truck. Had to shoot 'em all. So, no, your money won't do any good anymore."
"Then what do you want?"
The man smiled. "You know what I want," he said.
Claire did. She could see it in his eyes. He lowered his gun and aimed it at her.
"Now," he said. "Don't try to run. You're comin' with me. You can thank me later. Properly."
Claire wanted to run, but she knew that this man would pull the trigger without a second thought.
"Now get over here."
Claire did. Slowly. She didn't know what other choice she had.
The man wrapped his arms around her. He brought his face right up next to her.
"Fine piece of ass," he said. "I'm gonna enjoy fuckin' you."
Claire closed her eyes and fainted.
Chapter 4
When Adam finally moved, he was feeling a bit better. Though not much. He still didn't know what had happened outside, but he was sure that there had to be an explanation.
He thought about going to the window again. Instead, he picked up his cell phone once more. It had been laying beside him. He diale
d
91
1
and waited. He was hopeful that he'd get through to someone this time, even though somewhere in his mind he knew that he wouldn't. He didn't even get a busy signal. The phone was simply silent.
"Hello?" Adam said into the dead phone. "Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"
There was no reply. Adam tried again, but knew that it was pointless. He put the phone onto the table and stood up. He looked at the window.
Adam didn't necessarily want to look outside again. He was worried that he'd see more fighting, more killing, more blood. At the same time, he wanted to know if those things were still going on. He might even find the reason it had all happened.
He walked to the window. Slowly. But his room was small and didn't take him long to get there. Not as long as he had wanted. Not as long as he needed to prepare himself. He steadied himself and looked out.
Below him, the street was covered in bodies. All dead. Several limbs were torn from their owners. An arm here, a foot there. Underneath it all was blood, large pools of it. More than he could have ever thought possible.
Adam felt as though he was going to be sick, but he held it down and kept looking around.
Aside from the bodies, the street was a mess. Car windows were smashed. Building windows too. His favourite restaurant over on the corner looked destroyed; as did most of the shops. There were fires in a few of them.
"What happened?" he asked himself aloud.
He didn't know why he had spoken out to himself. He figured it had something to do with the silence. Aside from a few wailing car alarms in the distance, there wasn't much noise. It was silent. Eerily so.
Then ther
e
wa
s
a noise.
Adam heard something moving in the hallway. It sounded like footsteps.
He froze. Nervous. Scared. As much as he wanted to talk to someone, he didn't really want to open the door. He didn't want to leave his room. He didn't know who was out there.
He heard the footsteps again. They thumped along the hallway floor.
Adam held his breath, knowing that it wasn't going to make much of a difference. There was no way that anyone outside could hear him breathing. He did it anyway.
The footsteps continued for a bit longer, then stopped.
Adam wasn't sure where they had stopped, though. He couldn't be sure if they were close or far away. Something inside him wanted to know.
He decided to go to the door. He'd look through the peephole. That was all.
Maybe it was just one of his neighbour
s
, he thought
.
They might be as confused as himself.
He walked to the door.
Before he put his eye to the little hole, he took another deep breath. He wanted to listen once more to see if he could hear anything outside.
He waited. There was nothing.
Adam finally decided to look through the peephole. He placed his hands against the door and brought his eye up to the device. He looked out into the hallway.
There were no lights on, aside from a few red emergency ones, so it was difficult to see much of anything. Adam was surprised that the lights had gone out. Though, at the moment, that was the least of his concerns.
He continued to look. He moved his eye left and right and tried to make out most of the hallway. Still there was nothing.
Then someone passed his view
.
A ma
n
.
Adam was startled and stepped back from the door. A small sound escaped his throat as he did so. He paused, worried.
Surel
y
he hadn't bee
n
tha
t
loud
,
he thought. He couldn't be sure.
He waited and listened. Time passed slowly. Anxiously.
Then there was banging on his door. The sound startled him again. He jumped back.
He looked at the door and wondered who was on the other side. He hadn't had a good look. Whoever it was was definitely trying to get in. He wasn't knocking, he was banging. And he was getting louder and more violent. There was yelling too.
Adam thought that maybe the man outside would stop, but after a few more hits he knew that he wasn't going to.
He turned around and ran into his living room. He searched around looking for something to protect himself with in case the man got inside. He saw his phone, the television, a large lamp, a book. Nothing that would help him.
Then he thought about the kitchen.
He ran toward it and headed straight to one of the drawers, the one where he kept his cutlery. As he opened it, he looked down and saw the rows of shining metal. He grabbed at the biggest knife he had - a cutting knife,
a
butche
r
knife. He held it tightly in his hand.
He ran back to the living room and stared at the door.
He could still hear the banging and screaming. It wasn't anything that Adam could understand. He simply knew that it was threatening
,
angr
y
.
Adam took a step closer to the door. He held the knife out in front of him, unsure of how to use it. He had never killed a man before. He had never really even gotten into a fight. Now, here he was, waiting to stab a knife into someone. It all seemed so unreal.
He wasn't even sure if he'd even be able to do it. Sticking a blade into someone else's flesh. Feeling the blood on his hand. Seeing the look of pain in the person's eyes. He also wasn't sure that he had much of a choice.
The banging and screaming was getting worse. It was frantic. Desperately so.
Then, just like that, it stopped.
Adam heard footsteps running down the hallway. For whatever reason, the man had gone away.
Adam didn't know what to make of anything that had happened. He leaned against the wall and sat down heavily onto the floor. He kept the knife in his hands, clutching it to his chest.
He took a few deep breaths.
He was okay. Safe.
For now.
He looked away from the door and faced the window in his living room. He could see that the sun was beginning to set. The sky had turned to a beautiful shade of red.
Chapter 5
When Claire awoke, she was handcuffed to a metal desk. She pulled at it and found that it was bolted to the ground and wasn't about to move.
She turned away from it and looked around. She didn't know where she was. She couldn't remember. There were tools. A car. Windows.
She was in a garage.
It all came back to her.
She thought about her father, how he had come in and attacked her mother. She had had to hit him over the head with a lamp. She still wasn't sure if she had killed him - not that she was all that worried about it right now
.
It hadn't been her father.
Her brother had come in and finished what her dad had started. He had killed her mom
-
thei
r
mom. Claire hadn't been able to stop it. Not that time.
Then she had run. Her brother had followed.
She had made her way to the gas station. And, once she got there, she had fallen.
Claire looked down at the palms of her hands. They were scraped badly, bleeding. Even her jeans had been ripped. Again, she wasn't all that worried about it at the moment.
What sh
e
wa
s
worried about was the man, the one who had shot her brother. She remembered him smiling at her, saying he was going to enjoy fucking her. That toothpick in his mouth. His tattoos.
She turned to face the door leading out of the garage. She was sure that he was out there. Waiting.
Her heart began to race. So did her anger.
She couldn't believe that this man had taken her prisoner. With all that was happening, it was just one more thing that didn't seem right.
She pulled at the handcuffs. They made a loud clanging sound, but didn't open.
She dug her fingers into the cuff and tried to pull. No luck.
She heard a laugh.
"What are you doin' darlin'?" a voice asked her.
Claire looked and saw the man standing in the doorway. The man who had shot her brother. The one who wanted to fuck her.
"Let me go!" she said. Her voice was more forceful than she had wanted. She knew that she shouldn't be taunting him. She should try to be kind, appeal to his better side. If he had one.
He looked surprised at her outburst, then laughed again. He walked closer toward her. She could see that he still had the shotgun strapped over his shoulder.
"You haven't thanked me, yet," he said.
Claire stared at him, her anger continuing to rise. But, this time, she also felt fear. Here she was, trapped. Handcuffed to a metal desk. There wasn't much that she would be able to do to him.
"Let me go," she said again. She softened her voice.
He laughed once more. "I already told you, you've gotta thank me."
She stared into his eyes. She could see that he wasn't going to bend. He wasn't going to let her go.
She pulled at the handcuffs again. Not enough to make a sound. Just enough to know that she wasn't getting out of them.
She sighed, overcome with defeat. She didn't know what else she could do. She felt helpless. She lowered her head.
"Please, let me go," she pleaded.
"No, no, no. I can't. It isn't safe out there. I've gotta protect you. You should be happy about that."
"I am happy that you protected me. But, please, let me go now."
"You didn't thank me."
"
I
di
d
thank you."
"No, you didn't. Not the way I wanted. Know what I mean?"
Claire looked up at him. He was standing close to her, smiling with that toothpick sticking out of his mouth.
She did know what he meant. She hadn't fucked him yet. That's what he wanted.
"Please, let me go," she said once more.
He shook his head. "Not until you thank me properly."
He turned around and left the room.