The Mayflower Project: Deconstruction Book Two (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 14

  The rage that had temporarily subsided started to boil again. I clenched my fists and swallowed. She was never who I thought she was.

  “Just leave…please.” I took a deep breath and leaned my back against the wall. “Leave me alone.”

  Cindy started toward me, but Jake grabbed her arm.

  “Come on,” he said lowly. “We’ve gotta go.”

  Cindy resisted and Jake pulled harder. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked her up the stairs. She looked back the entire time, crying and heaving in big, dramatic gasps.

  I watched as they moved higher, step by step. They paused at the top of the stairs and took one last look at me. I scowled and turned away.

  “Bye Max. I love you,” Cindy said.

  Jake pulled her up the last step and they disappeared into the light. The doors slammed behind them and I was finally alone.

  For the next couple of hours, I didn’t move. My eyes were glued to the top of the stairs. I expected her to come back, to burst into the basement and tell me how she’d never leave, no matter what. I expected her to always be there, I thought we were soulmates.

  How pathetic was I? I still couldn’t let her go, I still needed her to want me, to choose me. And that ship had sailed. She’d chosen Jake and I’d chosen exile.

  I had no plan, no clue what I was going to do. I just didn’t care anymore. My race with time had ended, I’d surrendered my life to fate and whatever lay around the corner.

  At some point, I fell asleep, but it was short-lived. My dreams were haunted with visions of Jake laying on top of Cindy, sweating and grunting. Her moans grabbed my like a pair of hands and snatched me back to reality. There would be no peace for me.

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My stomach voiced its protest and my dry throat ached when I breathed. Life was calling to me, telling me to get off of my ass and move.

  I needed to find something to eat, no matter how much I hated Cindy I wasn’t gonna starve to death. But I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’d thought the world falling apart was rock bottom, I was wrong.

  Groaning, I stood and looked up to the stairs. I took a deep breath and slowly let the air out as I fought off the depression that had kept me down there so long. “Just keep moving,” I mumbled.

  Sulking, I headed up the old, wooden steps and pushed the barn doors open. A wave of fresh air hit me and it was like life was being breathed into my lungs. I felt energized, I felt alive again, despite all that had happened.

  Something came over me, or more like something had been lifted off. That basement, it represented death, it was a hopeless void where I’d been overwhelmed with depression and failure. Stepping out of that hole was a resurrection.

  I wasn’t going to die, I wanted to live. Screw sitting in some lonely basement and withering away. I was going to Wyoming, I was going to survive whatever the hell this was.

  The sky outside was dark and the moon was barely visible through the thick, clouds. The air was cool and crisp, biting at my skin like tiny flies with ice daggers for teeth. Winter was finally awake.

  I shivered and thought about the jacket I’d lost. It would’ve been nice to have. I could probably find another one along the way, but I was pissed at myself for being so unprepared.

  Something just out of sight stirred in the abyss and the grass rustled causing me to jump. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and I caught a glimpse of a man, charging toward me from a few yards away.

  He was wide and bulky with a thick gray beard and hands like bear paws. His broad frame was cloaked in a cumbersome long coat that looked like it had been ripped from the back of a buffalo and he had an old shotgun dangling from a sling at his side.

  My arms and legs became rigged and I lost my breath. I wanted to run, but my brain couldn’t seem to get the message out to the other parties involved.

  Another strike of lightning hit just as the man lunged forward with the butt of his rifle. It caught me in the face and sent me reeling backward. I hit the stairs and rolled, cracking my head on each step on the way down. I could hear feet thundering after me, stampeding down the steps to finish the job. With a crunch, I hit the bottom and everything turned off.

  CHAPTER 23

  WE ARE WHO WE ARE

  I slowly lifted my face from the cold, hard floor. Blood leaked from my lips and my head throbbed like someone was inside, scratching their way out. I squinted from the bright light that burned above as I tried to figure out where I was.

  I remembered falling, being hit and falling back into the basement. But this wasn’t the basement. It was someone’s house. The carpet had been ripped up and only the concrete slab remained. Four green painted walls surrounded me and a yellowing, door stood resolutely a few feet away. Thick, dark blankets covered what I assumed were two windows and aside from a metal chair in the corner, the room was empty.

  I needed to escape. I didn’t know what was going on, or how I’d come to be in that house, but I knew I had to get out. That was the only thought that repeated in my boggled mind.

  I pushed myself onto my knees and took a deep breath. With a heave, I stood up and tried to walk, but something yanked on me and I fell forward. A sharp pain shot up my leg and I let out a groan.

  Reaching down, I felt my leg where a thick, metal band dug into my ankle. It was attached to a heavy, rusted chain that was bolted into the floor. I wasn’t going anywhere and thoughts of cannibals and toothless men in overalls came to mind.

  Panic should’ve been my first reaction, but for some reason I’d become numb to danger. I felt jaded by it all. If this was the end I just wanted it to be over already.

  I laid back onto the floor in defeat, avoiding the puddle of my own blood. As I stared up at the ceiling and the browning water stains I thought of Cindy. I wondered where they were and if she was even thinking about me.

  I hated how I felt because for some reason I missed her. In my anger, I thought I could just forget about her. That the hole in my heart could be filled with rage and anger, but as hard as I tried to push her out, she was always there.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” a soft, male voice called out.

  I rolled over and looked toward the door. There he was, the bearded man, holding his hunting rifle, smiling down at me. His voice didn’t match, he looked like a grizzly bear, but sounded like a second-year accountant. I was more confused by that than anything else.

  “You’re thinking what the hell am I doing here?” he continued. “But you’re asking the wrong question. I’m gonna save you the trouble of the others. You need to be thinking, how can I stay alive.”

  He’d done this before, whatever this was. But unlike anyone else, I’d lost the ability to care about my life. At least I thought I did.

  “I was actually thinking, why do you sound like a twelve-year old girl?” I asked with an arrogant simper.

  He didn’t immediately reply. He gazed at me with an unreadable look. Most of his face was covered with thick, knotted hair, but his beady eyes jittered back and forth. They were dark and cold like a frozen lake in the middle of a forest no one ever visited. The piercing stare was unnerving, but I glared back at him in spite.

  He smiled. “They all start that way. The weak ones you know? Crack a joke, make a threat, do anything to show how tough they are. But you aren’t tough, are you?”

  He took one step toward me and stopped. I clenched my teeth, expecting to meet the casual end of his shotgun one more time. But it never came.

  “What do you want?’ I asked.

  “That might be a better question. If you expected to get out of here. But let’s talk about what you want.”

  He propped his gun against the wall and crouched down. With a deep grunt, he plopped onto the floor and crossed his legs. I lurched forward, fighting the urge to laugh.

  “Something funny?” he asked.

  “No,” I chuckled. “Just…how the hell are you gonna get back up.”

  He swallowed
and twisted his lips. “Nope, not tough at all, just stupid. But that’s good, we don’t have to worry about you trying to be a hero. We just have to break you.”

  With that, the man pushed himself back to his feet and left the room without another word. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned my attention to trying to break free.

  My shoes had been removed, but they were near the wall not that far from me. If I could get the band off of my ankle without breaking it, I’d be all set.

  “Come on you piece of shit,” I grunted as I tried to slip my foot through the loop.

  The door opened again and I froze. Two men walked in and stopped in front of me. One was shorter, wearing a baseball cap and a green army jacket. The other was tall and skinny with dirty blonde hair and a red flannel shirt.

  “Where you trying to go?” the shorter one asked.

  I let go of the chain and sat up.

  “I’m Shriver and this is Dale,” he said and nodded toward the taller man. “Theo sent us.”

  “Great, maybe one of you can help me out here,” I said and pointed at the chain around my leg.

  “He did say you were funny.”

  “This is gonna be fun,” Dale rumbled in a raspy voice.

  I started to ask what, but Dale swung his boot into the side of my head and for the second time that day I was taking an unwanted nap.

  When I woke up I was in a different room. I’d been tied to a metal chair with my ankles tied to the legs and my hands bound behind my back. There were a number of other people on the floor around me in different states of pain and consciousness, but they all were hog tied and gagged.

  “Looks like sleepyhead is ready for round two,” Shriver said with a wild grin.

  “Try not to tap out so early this time,” Dale added.

  “Yeah. Why’s it always the funny guys that are so soft?”

  My head was fuzzy and I was still trying to clear the cobwebs, but that didn’t stop Dale. He stormed toward me and stomped his foot into my chest. It felt like my ribcage imploded as I tumbled backward and slammed my head into the concrete.

  Quaking with pain, I rolled to the side and let out a muted groan. I tried to breathe, but it felt like I was sucking air through a flattened straw. Panic only made it worse and for a minute I felt like I was going to die right there.

  “Don’t you pass out on me yet funny guy,” Dale said.

  With Shriver’s help, he grabbed the back of the chair and set it back up. I leaned my head back and felt relief as oxygen found its way to my lungs. But it was a short-lived reprieve.

  “Look at me!” Shriver snapped.

  He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head forward. Smiling, he leaned into my face and stared at me. I could smell the cigarettes on his breath and see every flaw in his yellowing teeth.

  Dale laughed. He was sitting on top of a table a few feet away with his arms crossed. He looked mildly interested in us and was paying more attention to the woman to my left that was slowing coming to.

  “You got any more jokes left in you?” Shriver asked.

  I knew I’d regret it, but I couldn’t resist. With as much arrogance as I could muster, I stared him in the eyes and asked, “Who’s your dentist? You need to fire him.”

  Shriver didn’t react immediately. I couldn’t read his face at all, but I imagined he was pissed off. But then he started to smile.

  “Hot damn,” he yelped and clapped his hands together. “That’s the spirit. Make em work for it.”

  He looked back to Dale with a grin then nodded his head. Dale shrugged. I could tell from the look on his face that something terrible was about to happen.

  Shriver grabbed another chair and placed it backwards in front of me. He sat down facing me and leaned his arms over the back.

  “Where are my manners?” Shriver asked and held his hands up. “We don’t even know your name. You got a name don’t you?”

  “Well of course he’s got a name,” Dale added. “You gonna tell us your name?”

  “Ma…” I started.

  But Shriver brought his hand crashing across my face. It burned like I’d been hit with a fireball. My eyes welled with tears and I tightened my jaw in pain.

  I saw stars for a few and the tingling of my skin left me disorientated. I really should’ve just kept my mouth closed. Maybe hitting my head so many times had made me stupid.

  “What was that you said?” Shriver asked. “You gonna tell us your name or what?”

  I glared at him then back to Dale. The sensation of the skin melting from my face made me shiver. This was a game I didn’t’ want to play, but I was hardly in a negotiating position.

  “Spit it out already!” Dale suddenly shouted.

  I flinched. They’d called my bluff and won. I wasn’t’ a tough guy, hell I wasn’t even funny. And there was nothing amusing about getting beat to shit.

  “Name! Now!” Dale snapped.

  “My…my name is…”

  Another hand slammed into my face, knocking the words out of my mouth. My front tooth dug into my lip and my mouth filled with blood.

  Shriver stood up and started to pace the room. He stepped over the other captives and circled me like an agitated wolf.

  “You know how long they kept us locked up?” he asked. “Too long! This…this shit, whatever it is that’s going on, it was our way out.”

  I could see in his face he was reliving his worst days. I thought back to what Carl said about the prison and figured these guys had come from another one, but their stories were the same.

  “You know,” he continued. “They didn’t even free us. The whole damn building was falling apart and they left. They said it served us right.”

  “Fucking cowards!” Dale chimed in.

  “They left us to die, left us to burn or starve or be crushed to death like some damn animals. But now the tables have turned, they work for us now, you work for us. You clean, you tend to the yard, you make the food and serve us…we’re your kings! So you better get in line, you better figure it our real quick.”

  Shriver was a lunatic, a man so angry he couldn’t see beyond his rage. But maybe Dale had some common sense, maybe he would understand that staying here meant we all would die. I had to try because no matter what, I wasn’t staying.

  I turned toward him and lowered my eyes. Shriver was starting to calm himself down and had taken his seat back in front of me. I made sure not to look at him, but past him to the table.

  “This is only going to get worse,” I started in a soft voice. “The earthquakes, the storms…those are just the beginning.”

  Dale looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. He chewed the inside of his cheek and scratched his head.

  “I know a place…some place safe. I’ll show you how to get there.”

  Dale rubbed his chin like he was considering me, but Shriver didn’t want to hear another word. At a blinding speed, he leapt from the chair and stomped my face with his boot like he was kicking open a door in a swat movie.

  The pain was blinding. The force of his kick lifted the chair off of the ground and sent me reeling backwards. I slammed into the floor as blood sprayed from my face, leaving me hanging to consciousness.

  “Damn it!” someone shouted as the door burst open. “I told you not to kill him.”

  “He ain’t dead,” Shriver retorted. “He’s breathing ain’t he?”

  CHAPTER 24

  THE ONLY WAY OUT IS IN

  “Try not to move,” a voice said as I opened my eyes.

  I was laying on a bed and could feel that my restraints had been removed. I tried to lift my arm, but it felt like spaghetti and merely flopped at my side. I knew it would be my only chance at escaping, but for some reason none of my limbs wanted to listen.

  “It’s the drugs,” the voice continued. “You’ll come around in a bit.”

  With a few deep breaths, my vision started to clear and I could make out a dark-skinned middle aged man standing over me. He was wearing a green t-shirt an
d had a stethoscope draped around his neck.

  “You’re a doctor?” I garbled out in a barbaric drawl.

  “Something like that. My name’s Tucker and before you go getting any ideas…there ain’t no getting out of here.”

  “What did they give me?” I winced.

  “I had to set your nose. Shriver did a number on you. It’ll be sore for a few days and the swelling should go down in about a week. They love to break people or do the best they can, it’s all their kind know.”

  “Their kind?”

  “Convicts…lifers. I was a doctor at the prison about ten miles from here. I stayed around when the guards left, trying to take care of the sick. Guess that’s why they didn’t kill me. It could be worse though. So, just do what they say, pull your weight and you’ll be fine.”

  I remained quiet for a little bit. He was the first normal person I’d seen in a while and the way he talked about not getting out made me queasy. He was so certain, so contempt with just accepting his fate.

  “Have you tried before?” I asked.

  “Tried what?”

  “Escaping?”

  “The prison…the prison I worked at, it was maximum security. You know, for the worst of the worst. Murderers, rapists, just bad guys overall. That’s who you’re dealing with here and the only thing they learned while they were locked up was how not to escape. They’ve done a good job of locking this place up tight.”

  “It’s a fucking house!” I snapped, sounding angrier than I meant to. “Sorry, I’m just a little out of it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It takes some getting used to.”

  I nodded then swallowed. “But you didn’t answer the question. Have you ever tried.”

  Tucker sighed then leaned back against the counter. “I’ve been here for a week and a half. Only one guy has tried to escape in that time, like I said they like to break people. His name was Sydney. They caught him and tied him to the fence and every day they cut off a body part until he bled to death. He’s still out there now, in the back…rotting. So no, I’ve never tried to escape.”