Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.29
Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 29
Date: 8 October, 2010
Rating: R (for sex and violence)
Disclaimer: Hmmm, characters, not mine, situation, mine, though with the proviso that certain scenarios owe a major debt of gratitude to George Romero. Sex? Likely. Genders involved? Likely all female (at least anything on camera). Also there are likely to be very bad things in this story. I'm not one for prodigious amounts of gore, but this is horror and there is likely to be ickiness and things that might disturb some folks. Seriously. If it's gonna bother you, move along.
Summary: When the dead rise, civilization falls.
Author's Notes: Awhile back, just for fun, I did a faux movie poster that set Otalia in a horror setting and used some elements from an idea I've had running around for ages (what can I say---it was the Halloween season). See the poster here: http://altfic.com/artgallery/otalia/glafterworld01b.htm . Sooo, at some point, it seemed like fun to take a gander at writing them in that universe. I've quite deliberately tried to break away from my usual style and make it a bit faster moving, with frequent chapter breaks, deliberate cliffhangers, shorter scenes and more directed pov. We'll see if I can keep to one pov per chapter (well, they are short chapters...lol).
Dedicated to: My mom. Seriously. All of my growing up years, she would constantly throw me these what-if scenarios and press me to figure out logical ways to survive/get out of various emergency situations. Now, she never mentioned the zombie apocalypse, but I'm sure that was just an oversight or a desire not to scare a little kid (because, really, I grew up as the daughter of a top secret type during the cold war...I already had enough fear issues), but really, that odd little game was the genesis of...well...not just this story, but a lot of my love of writing. So, thanks mom.
Previous Chapters: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 |
Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 29
Natalia grunted as she was flung across Blake's living room. She hit a coffee table, the force of the shove enough to send her tumbling across it to land on the other side in a heap.
The house was thick with the tear-inducing, sickly-sweet smell of putrefaction, the stench so bad it was hard to breathe.
Not too surprising considering the scattered remains in the larder and the body she knew still lay upstairs.
Jeffrey O'Neill and his men showed no sign of noticing. Maybe they couldn't smell it over themselves.
Then there was no time for further musings as a hand dug into her shirtfront and she was hauled upright. He slung her onto the deeply upholstered couch, then stepped back. Still watching her, he clicked the radio mic clipped to his shoulder. "Bring the Hummer around," he instructed, not waiting for a confirmation before he shut it off again. "One of my men found the garage," he informed her.
That explained the brief exchange while they'd been entering through the charnel house of the larder. She kept her poker face on, giving nothing away in the vague hope he was fishing and didn't really have any information.
"Got a guy bringing our Hummer up...so we can all go take a look..." A soft laugh indicated he knew what Natalia was doing. "It's the house next door...and I'm guessing that we'll find Olivia and sweet, little Emma hiding there."
Despite her best efforts not to show emotion, Natalia felt herself flinch.
He saw. She could tell by the gleam in his eyes. "Sweet, sweet, little Emma," he drawled, his tone giving the words an ugly spin.
She tried to ignore the bait, but his soft chuckle told her she hadn't succeeded in covering her response.
"My daddy always said, 'Get 'em young and train 'em right.'"
A muscle contracted along the line of her jaw as she ground her molars in barely restrained fury.
And then he leaned down into her space, expression softening as he tried another tack. "Y'know, we really don't have to do this," he murmured, his tone conversational.
Good cop, bad cop wasn't nearly as effective when one person was trying to play both roles, she mused distantly.
"You're a beautiful woman..." Jeffrey ran his knuckles along her cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "I'd a lot rather we were nice to each other."
Liar.
He continued watching her carefully, clearly trying to assess whether his pitch was working. "I know you think I'm the villain of the piece and Olivia's the brave heroine...but that's not true. She's done things that make me look like a choirboy." His mouth twisted into a expression reminiscent of a smile, but much darker. "Like the information on Shangri-La...stolen...and it's my job to get it back. It's a matter of national security."
She didn't believe a word of it. In a world that no longer had nations, national security was moot. Whatever he was after, he was only in it for himself. She shook her head. "Right," she snarled, contempt in her eyes, "like what you did to Reva was just politics."
His mouth thinned and he scratched the side of his face. "I see you've heard her side of the story."
Natalia just glared.
He sighed softly, still trying to play reasonable.
He didn't do it very well.
"Do I really look like a man who'd need to rape a cow like her?" He preened ever so slightly, his expression suggesting he considered himself quite the catch.
"No," Natalia admitted. She wondered how many victims lay in his path. No doubt in his mind, they'd all wanted him desperately. "You look like a man who'd enjoy it."
She expected a blow, but instead one eyebrow slanted high on his forehead as he considered her, then suddenly, he pivoted, waving to his men, "Lem, Jake...clear the upstairs," he ordered, his tone business-like. "In case we need to come back here...I wanna know the place is clean." Another quick wave to the third man. "Sid, stay on the front door til Larry and Jim get here."
Left alone for a moment, Natalia searched for anything in the room that she could use to defend herself. When she was alone with Jeffrey, she'd have her best chance to escape. If she could get him down, maybe she could find a way to deal with the others.
One step at a time.
Not a good plan, but the best she had.
A moment later the others were gone and Jeffrey was turning to face her, a knowing smile curving his mouth. He eyed her from head to toe, taking his time, the effort clearly intended to intimidate.
Natalia wanted to glare and spit, but instead she let her gaze fall, cowering before him. Her chances were better if she played along.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her hair, toying with a few strands. "That's better..."
* * * * * *
A little frightened by how little emotional impact she felt on seeing the remains of the woman still splayed on the bed, Olivia flung a leg over the window ledge, then slipped into the room. It wasn't that it excited her or made her hungry or made her feel anything at all.
Her emotions were dulling.
Dying along with her body, she supposed.
And since there was nothing about the corpse to drive her hunger, no smells so tantalizing they bordered on flavors in and of themselves, she had no response to offer. Meanwhile, the scent of blood from the body below called to her, while the demons whispered in her ear that it would ease the growing hunger pangs. It usually took between ten and fifteen minutes for a corpse to start the twitching that signaled the beginning of the reanimation. That would give her plenty of time to grab a snack and still play heroine when she was done.
And besides, it wasn't like Little-Miss-Breasts-And-Thighs-Succulent-Enough-For-A-KFC-Bucket had done her any favors. Mostly she'd tied her down and tried to beat the crap out of her.
And loved Emma. Olivia tensed as another voice whispered in her ear, an angel to counter the devils.
Not the dark lady or her mother or even one of the demons. She was startled to hear her brother's voice, sounding firm and practical. Yeah, trust Sammy. He would have liked Natalia. He'd had a weakness for soft eyes, dark hair, and ethics to die for.
She loves Emma. She'll see to her. You know that, and you know you need to do this.
In life, he'd played the angel on her shoulder so many times, and so many times she'd foolishly ignored him.
How about you start listening in death, he chided from inside her head.
What the hell, it was better than some of the other things hanging out in there.
Then she smelled the rank, sweat-soaked, urine-tinged, bloody human stench of men coming. A faint creak on the stair confirmed the news and gave her a position. Ducking behind the open door, she waited, listening carefully, tracking them as much by smell as sound.
Not talking, probably using hand signals. They moved down the hallway a little way, then parted, one stepping into a room near the stairs, the other heading her direction.
Oh, good.
And then he was moving through the door, stepping so lightly most people wouldn't have heard him. As she watched, he walked to the foot of the bed, staring at the nightmare tableau.
Killing in cold blood wasn't something she'd done much of, and even with her emotions shutting down as fast as her body, it wasn't easy.
And then he laughed softly.
Yeah, that helped.
She leapt and was on him in a heartbeat, fast and inhuman and utterly merciless. Not giving him time to shoot or cry out. She stripped his weapon and flung it onto the bed, then brought her hand back across his mouth, hauling him back into her body.
He was smarter than the first one, or maybe just less prone to panic. He flung himself backward into her, using his body weight to slam her into the far wall, clearly hoping to break her hold.
Woulda worked too if she'd still been more human, but there was no pain, no dizziness lingering from the concussion, no fear, no breathlessness. She lost her grip for the briefest second mostly due to the shock of how little it all mattered to her.
But it gave her prey time enough to spin.
Bad plan.
She ducked the swing aimed for her head, then stabbed at his gut.
There was less resistance than she expected going in, coming out, or going in again.
The second stab went straight for the heart. She felt his pulse as the blade pierced the muscle mid-contraction and it clamped down.
Two more beats made the hilt flutter faintly in her hand, the vibration so subtle she would never have noticed it before. She would have been far too involved in the horror of killing a man, would have missed the tiny details like the way his pupils kept expanding and shrinking again and the way he gasped for air, but couldn't seem to speak.
And that little pulse of his heart managing its last weak beats around an invading knife.
Not to mention the smell of his blood. Rich, metallic, intoxicating.
Remember Emma, sis. Save Natalia now. Eat later. Sam's voice, impatient, bordering on angry, rang in her head.
Right. Emma.
Time to remove temptation. Bracing her feet, she shoved her prey backward several paces, then yanked the blade free, spinning him around as she gave him the ultimate bum's rush. He tried to fight, but he was running out of strength, dying, and she was moving too fast. She grabbed him at the collar and again at the belt and kept the momentum up, using the accumulated energy to carry him forward as she flung him out the window. He flew several feet away from the house in a long arc, then hit the ground below with a solid thud and lay there, still moving a little, but not much. He wouldn't last long.
Unfortunately, she'd made enough noise to bring the other one running. She heard and smelled him coming. A couple of long strides took her back to the wall next to the open doorway. She was only a couple of seconds ahead of the mercenary, but it was enough to give her the advantage. He was carrying an assault rifle, and she swung for his jaw as he stepped past her, slamming his head to the side even as she grabbed for the weapon. A hard yank pulled it free of his grip, but it was strapped to his body, so she couldn't take it completely away.
Change in plans. Running on instinct, she hauled the weapon up and back, dragging the webbing strap across the mercenary's throat in a makeshift garrote. Her weight kept it so tight that he couldn't shout any warnings, but wasn't enough to completely disable him. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to throw her off, but wasn't strong enough. Stalemate of a sorts, except he was losing air and energy by the moment.
It all happened in a strange kind of silence, both of them so used to keeping quiet to avoid notice that they were amazingly light footed as the fight jockeyed back and forth. He was bigger and should have been stronger, but it was like something had climbed into her body and added hydraulic lines to her muscles.
The good side of joining the undead. It was a hell of a fitness plan.
He twisted, almost getting free before she spun and got around behind him. He managed to crash an elbow into her midsection. A small woof of air, but not the wheezing gasp it would have drawn before. He was still fighting but had to be getting lightheaded from the reduced airflow. Panicked, he karate chopped her right hand over a nerve bundle. Her fingers spasmed and she lost her grip.
The knife went flying.
Fine. It wasn't like she needed it. Lunging, she got her forearm around his neck and clamped down, using her other arm as a brace to ratchet her grip tighter and tighter. The human-meat smell of him swirled around her, overwhelming the stench of sweat and grime. A vein pulsed in his neck, the throb of blood just beneath the surface of his skin making her mouth water. A fantasy image of tearing his throat out with her teeth ran through her head.
Mind on the job, Sam reminded her.
And she yanked, increasing the pressure exponentially until his windpipe gave way with a soft crunch. His fingers and nails dug into her forearm, but it was too late. He was already dead. His body just didn't know it yet.
Of course, it wouldn't know it even when he was dead.
No blood this time. It made it easier to resist temptation with only the human, fresh-meat smell of him to draw her. He stumbled along as she dragged him to the window, gagging and trying to summon the will to fight, but he had nothing left. When she shoved him through the window, he simply toppled.
Only a few minutes since the first killing. She still had time.
Glancing out the window, she noted the bodies lying in the grass, two of them still moving faintly. Two were a lot younger than Jeffrey's previous flunkies and they were all a lot less skilled and pretty pathetically geared.
Hopefully, the rest of his current team were equally unskilled. Retrieving her dropped knife, she folded it and slipped it in a pocket, then grabbed the pistol from the bed. She checked the clip-six bullets left, plus one in the chamber.
She was still considering her next course of action when a crashing thud sounded from downstairs, followed by a high-pitched scream.
* * * * * *
Shoving Jeffrey back, Natalia stumbled free, her shoes crunching in the remains of the lamp she'd broken over his head. He tried to grab for her, but he was shaking too hard to get more than a bit of her jacket. He was bleeding from a wound at his hairline and holding his genitals with agonized desperation. He'd let out the one shriek of pain as she drove her knee into his groin, but couldn't seem to grab a breath to do any more.
His eyes were black with hate.
He'd catch his breath soon and God only knew whether or not his men had heard the scream. Not much time. Natalia spun to flee, but suddenly a hand was grabbing hers, pulling her free and behind the cover of a body that was all solid muscle and elegant curves. She had a sudden sense of an arm stretching out, a gun taking aim.
And then she realized her savior was Olivia Spencer, strong, deadly, and very much alive.
And then Olivia spoke, her voice soft and a little mushy sounding, but clear enough to be understood. "Hello, Jeffrey..."
* * * * * * *
TBC