Dying Days Read online

  She rolled over onto her back and felt nauseous. A quick, painful spin to her side and she was throwing up onto the floor.

  "You'll have to clean that up yourself."

  Darlene saw the woman, the grinning bitch, from the bar. She was sitting patiently in a chair near the closed door, with Darlene's clothes in a neat pile on her lap. Next to the leg of her chair was a wash basin, soap and a small bottle of shampoo.

  "What happened to me?" Darlene asked, wiping the vomit from her lips.

  "What do you think? You're the new favorite. Wash up, get dressed, and meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. You need to cook." The woman rose and went to the door but turned back, a look of disdain on her face. "Enough with your lazy fat ass lying around here."

  * * * * *

  Rusty stepped between Darlene and Ginger, keeping the women at arm's length. "Enough, or you know what happens."

  Apparently Ginger knew it would be bad and not an idle threat because she immediately put the saucepan down and went back to washing the carrots.

  Rusty pulled Darlene to the back of the kitchen. She winced when his grip found one of her many bruises. "I need you to settle down."

  "You have to be kidding. These bitches are mad at me! How fucked up is that?" Darlene said.

  Since yesterday she'd had it equally as rough. After getting cleaned up and dressed and crying until no tears would come, she went to the kitchen in hopes of finding a knife. Her goal was to rally the other women - even the bitch - and bust their way out from these madmen. Instead, she'd been attacked by the women, clearly jealous of her and how the men were now favoring her. When the dust had settled she was beaten by two psycho rednecks and locked in the walk-in freezer (which didn't have power, luckily) for hours until she 'learned to play nice with the other whores'.

  Darlene decided to bide her time, learn as much as she could about the group, and try to find a weakness. She also wanted to find the bastard that took her Desert Eagle.

  She spent the day cleaning vegetables and cutting potatoes for the communal soup they were making. Including Ginger (who kept her distance but shot dirty looks at her whenever she could) and the bitch (who she overheard being called Barbara), there were five other women in the bar but they ignored Darlene and went about their business.

  Rusty came in right before the soup was done and watched Darlene work. The other women became clearly agitated by the intrusion but said nothing.

  Finally, as Darlene handed over her part of the food and cleaned up her countertop, Rusty approached her. "Doug wants to see you."

  * * * * *

  Doug Conrad was not what Darlene had expected. With the group of men in the bar area, she'd seen a common thread: rednecks from the frozen wastes of northern New York State or down from Canada, farmers and hunters and inbred pieces of shit that thought with their dicks and/or their rifles.

  This guy was a foot above them, both physically and mentally. He wore an American flag sweatshirt, his baseball cap with SoTNP stitched on it and striped in red, white and blue. He carried himself with a swagger, a self-confidence, she hadn't seen in a man in a long time. He wasn't a hillbilly or a redneck or a Good Ol' Boy, he was… powerful.

  "I understand you had a problem with Ginger?" he asked, a thick New England accent.

  "Ginger had a problem with me," Darlene said.

  Doug looked past Darlene and addressed Rusty. "Let Ginger know we won't be having anymore problems. Understand?"

  "Yes sir," Rusty replied and left.

  Doug sat down on a chair at a small table. They were in the bar offices. He motioned for her to join him.

  She sat across from him and tried to relax. "I thought this was Rusty's place?"

  "It is." Doug smiled and despite the situation she smiled back. He didn't have the look of a predator like the rest of the men here. He didn’t look desperate or wild. He looked refined, educated, and manly. "But I'm running the show."

  Darlene was smitten with him and she felt her face grow hot. His intense eyes locked on hers and she looked down at her hands.

  "Tell me about yourself. You're not from Buffalo."

  "No, I'm from a little town in Maine called Dexter. It's close to Bangor."

  "What are you doing so far west?" he asked.

  "Trying to survive." Darlene grew angry and looked up, meeting his gaze. "Why am I being held here?"

  Doug locked his fingers and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "No one is a prisoner, but it's not safe out there. The city is overrun, and it's amazing you got this far."

  "I want to leave."

  "When I feel it's safe."

  Darlene leaned forward and tried to look tough, even though she was shaking inside. "So I'm your prisoner."

  Doug stood and scowled at Darlene. "I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now. I would remember that."

  "What happens if we're attacked? How will I defend myself?"

  "Defend? You're a woman. The men will protect you, and in exchange we offer you food and shelter and life. I'm not sure why you aren't thanking me right now," Doug said.

  "Seriously?" Darlene wanted to scream. "I just want to leave."

  Doug turned away from her. "Jesse, come get her back to the kitchen, please."

  "What if I refuse to be your cooking bitch?" Darlene demanded as she stood. "What if I try to leave?"

  Doug moved so quickly she didn't have time to react. His fingers were wrapped around her hair and she was dragged to the ground with such violence that she nearly blacked out.

  He got close to her face, keeping his grip. "You will do what you are told or you'll end up like all the rest of the bitches that decided that the Sons of The New Patriots weren't worth living and dying for. Understand?"

  Doug dragged her up by her hair just as Jesse came in with a grin.

  Darlene, dazed, was pulled by Jesse out of the room. She did, however, notice that Jesse was the prick that had taken her Desert Eagle and had it tucked into his waistband.

  She decided that she'd kill him first and then Doug.

  * * * * *

  During the course of the last twelve hours Darlene played 'nice' with the other women - completely ignoring them unless she absolutely needed a pot or utensil - and prepared one meal after another. From listening to the idle chatter in the kitchen she figured out that there were actually eighteen women in the bar and adjoining houses, sixty-five men (all members of the Connecticut-based militia group Sons of The New Patriots) and another ten men who foraged for food and supplies.

  From the growing pile in the walk-in it was obvious they were doing a great job. An hour ago one of the men wheeled in a shopping cart overflowing with canned goods, and the women began picking through it.

  Barbara was head of the kitchen and she barked orders, setting the menus and giving tasks to the women. If she weren't such a bitch Darlene would've asked her if she'd been a cook or restaurant manager before all this. She clearly knew what she was doing.

  Ginger was absent and no one said a word, but they all equally ignored Darlene.

  A slight banging to her right startled her. When she looked over all she saw were storage boxes piled to the ceiling. The noise came again.

  "What's the problem?" Barbara said and approached.

  "Something's knocking."

  Barbara turned and yelled. "Jesse, we got us another one in the alley."

  "Got it."

  Barbara looked at Darlene. "Get back to work."

  Five minutes later Darlene heard a muffled gunshot from outside and glanced at the pile of boxes. She wondered if she could get through the pile and through whatever door was there before she was chased.

  When Jesse came back he smiled at her and waved the Desert Eagle. "This baby can shoot. One shot and his freakin' head blew off." Jesse put the weapon back in his waistband. "Plus, Ritter found me so much ammo for this baby I could probably shoot my way out of Buffalo."

  It took everything for Darlene not to charge him, knowing he
was trying to get a rise out of her. Instead, she went back to work peeling potatoes.

  Jesse came up to her and waved the weapon at her. "So close and yet so far away, right?"

  Barbara came up slowly on Jesse with a look of distress on her face. "Jesse, please leave the kitchen."

  Jesse ignored her, staring at Darlene, eyes wandering over her body as he licked his lips. "I wonder what you'd do to get it back?"

  Barbara put a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Please, you need to go."

  Jesse grabbed Barbara in a headlock and put the gun to her head before she could react. She began screaming. He smiled at Darlene again. "I bet if I shot this bitch in the head you wouldn't even blink, would you?"

  "Please don't," Darlene said quietly. As much as she hated the women she had no desire to see her head blown to pieces, and especially if she unwittingly had something to do with it. "Just let her go and you and I can talk."

  "Talk? Fuck that noise, bitch. We'll be bumping and grinding before the night is through."

  Jesse released Barbara and knocked her on the floor. "Stay there, bitch, or I will shoot you. I don't care what this whore says."

  "But you'll care what Doug says," Rusty said from the doorway, a .357 in hand. "Secure that weapon and get over here."

  Jesse leaned forward at Darlene as he raised the Desert Eagle. "We'll continue this later, and that fat ass of yours will be mine."

  "Now, Jesse. You were told she was off-limits." Rusty held out his left hand, the right still holding the gun at Jesse. "Hand it over."

  "Bullshit."

  "Fine." Rusty smiled. "I'll let Doug know you were messing with his property and refused a direct order from his second-in-command. Where do you think that will get you?"

  "In the pit," Jesse said quietly.

  Rusty went nose-to-nose with Jesse. "I didn't hear you, soldier."

  "Sir, in the pit, sir," Jesse said. He handed over the Desert Eagle. With one final nasty look at Darlene he left the kitchen.

  Rusty stared at the women for a full minute, no one speaking. Finally he motioned for Barbara to get up. "Back to work, you all just got us behind. No food for you tonight if you don't hurry the fuck up."

  * * * * *

  Darlene didn't move a muscle, pretending to sleep. She figured Barbara and Jesse would both go after her much sooner than later and she'd be ready. Barbara had the easiest means since she was cramped in the same room as Darlene and another six girls. Darlene was rolled up with a thin bed sheet in one corner, facing the dark figures and listening to them snore, shuffle and moan in their sleep.

  Her anger and frustration kept her awake and kept her going. She knew to relax would get her killed, and crying or accepting the hopelessness of her situation would destroy her, so she embraced the raw power and tried to use it.

  As silly as she knew it was, she remembered the time when she'd first gotten the job in the makeup department in the mall. Her community college had stalled and she still hadn't figured out what she wanted to do in life. After a long talk with her daddy she decided to take a break for a semester - as much as he was against it - and get a real job. Her daddy paid all the bills, but she knew it was way passed her time to add something positive to the household.

  She remembered kissing him on his cheek as he sat there wringing his hands and staring at the microwave. She told him about being in her mid-twenties and never having worked a real job save the fast food ones when she was a teen, her job at the library in college and her brief two-week work as a hostess in that seedy restaurant outside of Dexter.

  Her first real job brought her the harsh realities of life: not everyone liked you or was straight up real with you or just had so much jealousy that they were hard to be around.

  Winnie was the assistant manager of the department, a ten-year veteran who'd been stuck behind the department head for four years. She had a bad attitude for the new people coming in and no patience to train, yet every complaint up the chain fell on deaf ears.

  After four months of Winnie undermining associates, doing underhanded things with their commission sales and changing schedules at a whim, Darlene had had enough.

  She didn't care if she lost her job at that moment because she was so stressed. She met Winnie in the parking lot after a closing night shift and without preamble, crowded the woman against her car. "What the fuck is your problem with me?" Darlene said, amazing herself at her rage. Her original point was going to be to try and talk to the woman one more time before quitting, but as the anger built all shift and Winnie acted like a typical bitch, she couldn't control it.

  Darlene didn't remember the rest of the confrontation that night, but she did smile at the outcome: Winnie went out of her way to be nice to her, giving her prime shifts, siding with her when the new girl Julie was trying to steal sales, and chit-chatting with her whenever possible.

  Movement in the darkness brought her back to the present and she tensed up her body. A shadow pulled itself from the far corner, where Barbara had set up to sleep.

  Showtime, she thought and slowly pulled the butter knife from under her pillow. When the figure got within three feet of her Darlene suddenly sprang, driving a shoulder into her opponent's midsection and wrapping them up as they plunged to the floor.

  Darlene had gone over this a dozen times in her head and she was ready: she drove the butter knife into her throat, knowing if she hesitated or showed mercy she'd be dead.

  Chaos erupted around them as flashlights and candles lit the scene while the women in the room moved to escape the battle but get into a good position to see it.

  By then it was over. Darlene, on all fours, had the knife plunged into the neck of an unmoving woman. Not Barbara.

  Confused and shaking, Darlene looked around and finally caught the smile of Barbara, standing at the door. Before Darlene could do anything Barbara left.

  "Who is that?" Darlene finally asked as she stood, her legs threatening to give out. Her stomach roiled and she puked against the wall. Her chest and arms were covered in blood and she could only stare, spittle dripping from her lips, as the woman went into convulsions on the floor.

  Darlene was going down, her vision dimming, but as she began toppling she felt rough, strong hands grabbing her and dragging her past the scene of carnage. Her feet slid through the pool of blood as some women screamed and others sobbed.

  In the hallway she closed her eyes and puked again as someone lifted and fireman carried her. She was dumped onto a mattress. When she opened her eyes Rusty and Doug were standing over her. She threw up again, too weak to even roll, just coughing it out of her mouth so she didn't choke.

  Rusty, a look of torment in his eyes, came to her and gently lifted her head. She watched as Doug folded his arms behind them and smiled wickedly.

  Lucky for her Rusty's first punch to the jaw knocked her out.

  * * * * *

  Cold. Darlene felt her body shuddering and wet. Her thoughts were jumbled, fuzzy around the edges. When she opened her eyes she wasn't surprised to see the entire bar staring at her, led by Doug, Rusty and Barbara. She was outside, it was nighttime, and she could hear the undead clanging against chain-link fences nearby.

  They let her stand. "Seriously? Naked again?" She threw up her hands in disgust and ignored the laughing and catcalls. Turning to Doug she looked at him with what she hoped was utter defiance. "Do your worst, dickhead. Just remember one thing: I'll have the last laugh when I'm shooting you in the fucking head."

  Doug grinned. "I seriously doubt that, sweet ass. In fact, after everyone else here has gotten their turn in with your body, it will be my turn. The last turn."

  "I'm first, since I owe that bitch," Jesse said and strode forward. When she tried to run away hands grabbed her from behind and forced her to the ground on her back.

  She stopped struggling and put her legs up. "Hurry up, Minute Man. There's a line behind you," she said loudly.

  As everyone began to laugh she could see that she'd gotten to Jes
se, which is what she wanted. She knew this was the end of the road for her, and she'd be raped and killed but she didn't want to go out crying and feeling powerless. Even though her stomach threatened to spill and she was shuddering, she tried to push it down defiantly.

  When he pulled his jeans down she laughed. "Did you forget your dick inside the bar? I'll wait here while you go fetch it."

  Jesse was on her suddenly, his pants down. He was fumbling to get inside her, glaring at her with venom. "I'm going to rip you open, you fucking bitch," he said quietly.

  "Doubtful," she said but turned her head. She noticed the undead trying to get through the chain-link fence, the padlock keeping them out.

  Jesse was still struggling as she turned the other way, seeing the same thing the other way down the road: undead behind the fence.

  "You done already?" Darlene said and smiled at him when everyone began to laugh and cat-call.

  Jesse raised up on his elbows, then to his knees, bringing his hand up to slap her. Instead, Darlene kicked up with her knee and connected with his groin. As he fell to the side she reached up, using him as a shield, and reached around his back.

  She pulled her Desert Eagle just as she heard the scrambling around her. Instead of attempting to use Jesse as a hostage - she knew they could care less about him - she pointed and fired at the lock on the gate, using every ounce of training her daddy had ever given her with her weapon.

  Before the lock was even on the ground she'd turned and shot the other side.

  Jesse bucked on top of her as someone put two bullets in his back.

  Darlene began firing at anything around her, sure she'd be shot at any moment. Instead, they scattered around her as the zombies breached the gates.

  A man tripped over Jesse and Jess slid off of her. She crouched, still firing, until her gun was empty. A quick search of his jeans pockets and she found loose bullets and a full box.

  She stood and looked for Doug, Rusty and Barbara, hoping to see them so she could kill every last one of them. Instead, it was such chaos that she couldn't tell living from dead.