Hamsikker 2 (10 page)

“What do you think about our two new friends?” Quinn stared at the floor as she spoke. It was as if she was regressing to her childhood. Now she wasn’t out in the battlefield, she could let her guard down and relax. Maybe it was the talk of her old life that had her looking so dejected.

“Gabe and Mara? They seem like nice enough people, don’t you think?” asked Jonas. “And this place is just what we were looking for. Gabe was decent enough to take first watch. It’s warm and secure, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t be safe enough tonight. If it wasn’t for Gabe having the foresight to pack up that van, we would be half starving by now. Look, if we hadn’t found them when we had, then God knows what would have happened to us. Chances are we’d be out there getting our asses kicked. I think Gabe and Mara came along at just the right time.” Jonas was pleased the conversation had taken a more upbeat tone. He didn’t want Quinn dwelling on dark thoughts. He knew from experience that churning up old memories usually led to depression or anger, neither of which were useful in a world full of the walking dead.

“I guess so…” Quinn sighed. “It’s just that Mrs. Danick was talking to me earlier. She isn’t convinced that they’re so sweet. She thinks the innocence and sweetness is all a show. She swears they were arguing earlier. She says they’re hiding something.”

Jonas snorted. “Sorry, but come again? What is she basing this on? Did she elaborate on anything ‘cause it seems to me that they’re just about the nicest damn people we’ve met in a long time. They let us in and asked for nothing in return.
Nothing
. You know how rare that is in this world. What do
you
think?”

“They were perfectly pleasant, I have to admit, but…”

“But what? Other than a senile old lady’s theories, I don’t see the problem. Mrs. Danick might be a sharp shooter, but sometimes she’s not on the same planet as us. Two weeks ago she thought she saw Elvis. Remember? Did you believe her then?”

“That was different,” said Quinn. “She gets confused sometimes, you know that. Mara hasn’t said much, but Gabe can be a little blunt, if I’m honest. Mrs. Danick said he wasn’t in any of the photos back at Saint Paul’s, and I think…”

“I think,” said Jonas, “that you need to remember the only reason you’re alive right now is because Gabe and Mara let us in. I think you need to show a little more gratitude, and stop listening to Mrs. Danick’s crazy stories.” Jonas stood up and left Quinn staring up at him. She looked like a lost young girl as her brown eyes looked at his. “Get some rest, Quinn, you’re on watch in a couple of hours.”

Jonas hated leaving Quinn on bad terms, but she had dealt with far worse than a telling off from him. Tomorrow was going to be a fresh start for everyone. They had navigated their way out of Kentucky and managed to avoid coming into contact with many dead since leaving Saint Paul’s. Jonas slowly climbed the metal steps to the upper gantry to find Gabe. He vowed that he wouldn’t run away anymore. He wasn’t going to keep hiding, but he would confront things head on. Dakota was slowly coming around, and Erik would too. As long as Gabe played ball, there was no need for any more issues. If Mrs. Danick kept her head, then who knows, they could even make Canada by nightfall the next day. If they stayed clear of trouble, perhaps he could get Freya to open up too. His promise to Dakota was solid, but there was one thing he had to promise himself.

“I’m going to get us out of here, and then I’m going to find Janey.” He had to say it out loud to make it real. He couldn’t bottle it up anymore. Jonas stepped up onto the catwalk, and he saw Gabe at the far end of the warehouse. Now that Erik knew about Canada, Jonas’s resolve had been strengthened, and the last part of the jigsaw was Gabe. Mrs. Danick didn’t suffer fools gladly, and if she had convinced Quinn, then something might be up. There was no reason they couldn’t all get along. It was time to find out what Gabe wanted and who he really was.

CHAPTER SEVEN

They wanted to go into the office to look outside, so together they dragged the filing cabinet to one side, pushed back the flimsy wooden door, and entered the office. Satisfied there were no zombies around and that their vehicles were still parked up close by, Peter checked the other door that led outside. The key hung in it loosely, and he kicked a sheaf of papers underneath the reception desk.

“It’s locked, but it wouldn’t take much to get it open if a few of them came across us. We should get back inside before we’re spotted,” he whispered. The rain still fell and almost drowned out his soft voice.

Rose took Peter’s hand. Saying nothing, she pulled him to her and brushed her lips gently over his. She knew that she smelt good, clean and fresh, with a hint of perfume. In the clubhouse lockers she had found a discarded gym bag with a half-empty bottle of fragrance inside, and she was putting it to good use. It was eerily quiet in the warehouse, and she had offered to take watch with Peter before dawn. With Peter being so young, it had sounded like a good idea to Erik, and he had practically encouraged the two of them to do the night watch together. The others were asleep, and now that they had reached the office, Rose pulled him close to her and let her lips rest on Peter’s. She pulled him closer, sensing what he wanted.

“Mara, stop, what are you doing?” Peter let go of her, confused. “We’re supposed to be on watch, what are you doing? Jesus.”

Rose smiled and maintained eye contact with Peter. He was making the right noises, but she knew how men worked, and she knew when their body was disagreeing with what they were saying. Most men wanted her, or at least used to, and she could deal with that. She used it to her advantage, and usually got what she wanted. Now that she was with Javier, she had decided to stop playing around and had taken up a different sort of game.

“Peter, don’t worry so much. I know what you want.” Rose slipped off her polo shirt and let the cold night air wrap around her body. The boy was scared, but excited. She was half-tempted to let him have her, but then the thought of anyone else inside her apart from Javier brought her senses sharply to the fore. She shivered at the thought of Peter laying a finger on her, let alone anything else. She would rather disembowel herself with a rusty nail than let a pig’s offspring touch her.

“Are you cold?” Rose asked. She could see Peter admiring her breasts through her bra, and knowing how desperately he wanted to touch her made her want to laugh. He wanted her so much, yet he was so afraid. It occurred to her then that he might be a virgin.

“We don’t have to do this,” said Peter timidly. “We
shouldn’t
do this. You’re married, and…”

“And I saw how you looked at me in the shower yesterday,” said Rose as she approached Peter. “I want it too. I need it Peter. I was Gabe’s sweetheart at school, and I’ve never been with anyone else. I need a man. I need
you
.” Rose stifled a giggle as Peter’s mouth fell open. With reactions like that, he
had
to be a virgin. Any other man would have long since given up resisting her, and dropped his pants in seconds.

“Mara, I think you’re beautiful, but I…I’m…”

Rose pressed her finger to his lips. “Shush,” she whispered. “Just relax. We’re completely alone. We can do
anything
we want.”

Rose kneeled down before Peter, and unbuckled his belt. She waited a moment, wondering if he would grab her head and thrust himself into her like most men. Instead, he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she thought she heard him whisper something about wanting to make love to her.

“Sit down,” she instructed Peter forcefully, and she pushed him back into a swivel chair. “Now close your eyes.”

Peter closed his eyes instantly. Rose shook her head at how easy it was. She reached into her pocket and pulled out some industrial cable ties that she had found earlier, maneuvered herself around the back of the chair discreetly, and then tied Peter’s hand together, binding his wrists tightly.

“Hey, I’m not sure about this. Do you…”

“Be quiet,” Rose whispered in his ear, “or I won’t let you fuck me.”

Rose made sure Peter couldn’t escape his ties, and then unlocked the front door, letting the moon light up the room. Warm rain dripped inside from the roof, and Rose had to admit that she was turning herself on. If only Javier were sat in that chair instead of Peter. He was such a typical, obnoxious American college boy. Rose imagined that Peter was the sort of person who probably helped his Mom bake apple pie before offering to cut the grass and prepare for his exams by taking on extra homework. Undoubtedly, the closest he’d ever gotten to a woman was taking the girl next door to the cinema to see some God-awful romantic movie before buying her an ice cream, giving her a peck on the cheek, and getting her home to her parents by ten p.m. Where were the real men? Rose knew Javier hated much of America, and she thought that sometimes she did too. It wasn’t so much the place as the people that she despised. Then again, she wasn’t fussy who she killed. Most people, whether they were American, Korean, or from the North Pole, were scum. They all bled the same in the end.

Rose was tempted to put a blindfold on Peter, but she was beginning to tire of the game she was playing, and was eager to get back inside to Javier.

“You think you’re the first man I’ve met since this whole thing started who wanted to fuck me?” Rose laughed as she straddled Peter. “You’re not even a man. I don’t think you’d even know what to do with it.” She didn’t try to hide the contempt in her voice, and waited for Peter to open his eyes. In the moonlight, they shone brightly, and she could see his father in those piercing blue eyes.

Confusion and embarrassment spread over Peter’s face. “What is this? I thought…”

Rose laughed again, and her shrill laugh scared him more than anything. Suddenly Peter wanted out; he wanted to be back inside, back at Saint Paul’s, back at home, even back in the campervan - anywhere but here. He pulled at the ties around his wrists, but she had secured them well, and as much as he struggled, he could not free himself. “Let me go. This is bullshit. You’re insane.”

Rose got off Peter and stood over him. She picked up her polo shirt, and put it back on. Yawning, she took a large knife out of her boot and watched as Peter’s face turned to fear. She yawned and let the reality of what was happening to him gradually sink in. The bulge in his jeans had gone, and he was probably about to piss himself. Rose laughed again, imagining Peter pissing himself in the chair where he thought he was finally about to lose his virginity.

“What are you? Who
are
you, Mara?” he asked quietly. He wanted to cry, but how would he explain this to his parents? “Look, just let me go, and I won’t say anything. I won’t tell Gabe what happened, okay? I know you’re just messing with me.”

“You still think you’re getting out of this, don’t you?” Rose shook her head. She enjoyed the teasing most of all. Javier was always in charge, and rarely did she get the chance to take the lead. Now she had the power, and she wasn’t going to waste it by killing him quickly. “You know how many men I’ve fucked?” she asked.

“What? I don’t know. I don’t care.” Peter pulled at his ties, but they only seemed to get tighter as he pulled. It was nearly impossible to get up out of the chair with his hands tied behind his back, and with Mara holding a knife over him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to try.

Rose could see Peter straining to free himself, and tiny beads of sweat were beginning to show on the boy’s forehead. She leant over him and placed the tip of the sharp knife over his crotch.

“I would appreciate it,” she said calmly, “if you could sit still for a minute.”

Peter nodded. A bead of sweat ran down his nose and dripped off the end. He swallowed nervously. His throat was so dry that it felt like he was trying to swallow a brick. If only someone would come check on them. If only Freya would have one of her nightmares and wake up his father. Erik would know what to do in this situation. He always knew what to do.

Rose looked at Peter expectantly. “Well?”

“Well…what?” Peter asked. All he could think of was the knife perched above his crotch.

“Answer the fucking question!” screamed Rose. She instantly regretted losing her temper. The shouting might wake the others. She couldn’t afford to get caught, Javier had made her quite aware of that, so she was going to have to finish this quicker now. She leant in closer to Peter, so her lips were only an inch from his. “Answer the fucking question, Peter.” Her cheeks were flushed with rage, and her hands holding the knife trembled.

Peter froze, and looked down in terror. Mara was pressing the knife down on him, and he could feel the pressure above his groin. Any further, and she would break through his pants. He didn’t want to think what would happen after that.

“Okay, okay, I apologize. Um, look, I’m not really…three? Four?”

Rose drew the blade slowly up over Peter’s belly, up his chest until it rested against his neck. The coldness of the blade made him shiver. She thought that his eyes, so full of fear, were beautiful. Such a waste.

Rose smiled, and her voice returned to a normal level. “My father was the first one to fuck me. He was hard and quick at first, and I felt raw afterwards for days. But then he began to take his time. Enjoy it. Enjoy me. I wouldn’t say
I
enjoyed it, but…”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Peter.

“Don’t be.” Mara pushed the blade against Peter’s neck until the tip of the knife nicked his skin, and tiny droplets of bright red blood appeared.

Peter tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. She had him pinned against the chair, and his hands were wrapped up tightly. Christ, why wasn’t someone coming? He had taken on the night watch with Mara and knew it would be some time before anyone else came along. This was like a bad dream, except he couldn’t wake up. Mara had gone insane. He pulled at the ties more, but there was no way out.

Rose leaned in against Peter’s bleeding neck and whispered into his ear. “You could still have me, you know? All you have to do is kill Gabriel. Take my knife and kill him. He’s sleeping now. Slit his throat before he gets the chance to wake.”

“You’re crazy,” said Peter. “Mara, just stop this. Just stop this and… and…”

“And what?” Rose laughed, and a high-pitched giggle burst from her mouth. “So, is that a no? I didn’t think you would.”

She sighed and looked so disappointed that Peter wanted to tell her that he would do it. He wanted to tell her to smile, because she looked so beautiful when she smiled, but he kept his mouth closed. There was nothing he could say to convince her of anything, he was quite sure of that. He certainly wasn’t about to kill Gabe. Mara had lost the plot. He didn’t know what had made her flip out, but he had to keep talking to her. He realized the best way out of this was to keep her talking. His father had taught him to always try to avoid confrontation, and most situations could be resolved without the need for it to descend into physically fighting. Perhaps someone would come looking for them if he kept Mara talking long enough.

“Mara,” he said quietly as she stared at him. “Mara, tell me what you want. I can help. You can stay with us. Leave Gabe, if that’s what you want. My parents will look after you. It doesn’t have to be like this. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but…”

Her face turned upward, and Rose sighed. Peter hoped someone would come soon, as he was struggling to hold onto hope. Was there any point in still hoping? Yes, he had to. Freya at least needed him. There was nothing more important in the world to him than Freya. Perhaps Mara needed a dose of reality. Had she gone so far that she couldn’t come back? Was this some twisted sex game that he just didn’t understand? Those eyes of hers that were once so real, so pretty, suddenly seemed hard and black and cold. This was no game. There was no way this woman was the cozy housewife she’d made herself out to be.

“Mara, who are you really?”

“Me? I’m Mara. Mrs. Gabriel.” Rose brought the blade back to his throat.

“What’s your name, your
real
name?” asked Peter. He felt the blade press against his neck drawing more blood. He found himself thinking of Freya, praying that she was safe, wishing he could get through this to see her one more time.

“My name?” Rose leered at Peter. The moon glinted in her eyes as she spoke. “I couldn’t tell you. I lost it around the same time as I lost my virginity. My father fucked them both out of me when I was thirteen. I always liked flowers, though, so I picked myself a name. You can call me Rose.”

Rose drew the blade swiftly through Peter’s neck, and his warm blood gushed out. He spluttered and coughed, but was powerless to stop it. Rose stepped back, making sure none of the blood got on her clothes. That would be hard to explain in the morning. Peter kicked out, but his feet found nothing but the corner of the desk, and the chair spun back towards the door. Rose could see him trying to speak, trying to breathe, but he was already turning pale. The gaping hole in his neck gushed blood. His eyes were glassing over, and the spasms that coursed through his body slowly dissipated as the life drained out of him.

“Stick,” said Rose. She looked at Peter’s lifeless body with curiosity. Would Erik go as easily? She felt more like her old self again. Killing Cindy hadn’t really sated her, and Peter had been much more fun. She wiped the knife on Peter’s shirt, and tucked it out of sight into her boots. Then she wheeled Peter’s body outside, pushing the chair out of sight across the road, and left it behind a dumpster. She severed the ties that held his hands, and checked again to make sure there was no blood on her.