The Last Five Days: Day Two: Evil Urges: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (3 page)

Jimbo chuckled. "You're the boss."

Jimbo turned to leave the shed. Doubt never crossed Winston's mind. He strengthened his grip on the pistol, pointed it at the back of Jimbo's head, and pulled the trigger. Jimbo fell forward, face first onto the ground with his feet still in the doorway of the shed. It was over in an instant, but the ringing in Winston's ears continued. He was getting used to the tinnitus. At first, Winston saw it as penance for breaking the sixth commandment. But, as days went by and the horrors grew worse in Black Dog, Winston doubted a God even existed. Why would he stand by and watch a small town of good people suffer?

The ringing was just another by-product of this new way of life, along with killing. Winston was the new Iceman. He stood over Jimbo and watched blood pool beneath his forehead. Jimbo and Winston weren't good friends. Every once in a while, they chatted over breakfast at Luther's Diner, but it was small talk. When they passed each other, they waved and exchanged pleasantries, but then again, that was the norm for Black Dog. Winston felt no guilt for shooting Jimbo in the back of the head. Some would see it as a cowardly act. Winston saw it as a strength.

"Pointing a gun to someone you know and pulling the trigger takes guts."

The words seeped into Winston's conscience undetected, but after a few moments, they blistered his thoughts. He grabbed Jimbo's ankles, swinging them out of the shed's doorway. Winston froze.

"I don't want to be the Iceman. I want to save people, not kill them. This isn't me. Maybe I'm infected?"

The question clung to Winston, squeezing tighter as every second passed. If Winston was sick, soon he would no longer care about saving Marianna. He had to get to Salk. Winston stepped over Jimbo.

"Shit. The gas can."

Winston went back to the shed and grabbed the only gas can he could find. As he turned to leave, he spotted Marianna's iPod on the floor. The screen was smashed, but that didn't stop John Denver. Winston drowned himself in "Rocky Mountain High" and walked down Baker Street.

"
W
as that a gunshot
?" Melanie asked.

"I didn't hear anything," Dean said, stoking the fire. He heard it. He knew it was a gunshot, but he didn't want to alarm Melanie. "I need some water. Want a bottle?"

"I'm fine."

Dean took the opportunity to pass by every window on his way to the kitchen. The shot didn't seem far away, but he saw nothing but a ghost town. He grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler and went back to the living room. Melanie was sitting in front of the fire. The flames lit her blonde hair with a brilliant orange hue. She was beautiful, naïve, and innocent. She didn't deserve this hell.

"Warming up?"

Melanie turned and smiled. "Toasty, and I have you. There's no one I'd rather share the apocalypse with."

"Not even that guy from
The Notebook
?"

"Ryan Gosling?" Melanie put her index finger on her chin and looked to the ceiling as if she were thinking. She smiled. "Not even Ryan Gosling."

Dean flashed a half smile. "Liar." His smile widened. He fell back onto the couch.

Melanie scooted over and took her place between his legs again. Dean pulled her hair away from her neck and massaged her shoulders.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Melanie said between soft moans.

"Sorry?"

"I wasn't trying to pry into your past."

"You weren't prying. Nothing to be sorry for." Dean kissed the top of Melanie's head. "I'm not proud of some of the things I've done."

"We've all done stupid things in the past. It's OK. I didn't know you then. I know you now. That's all that matters."

Dean pressed his thumbs a little deeper into Melanie's shoulders. He hit a knot that sent pain to her neck. She winced and shifted her weight away from the pain.

"Sorry." Dean eased his fingers to a gentle touch.

"No, it felt good. Hurt, but felt good. I've always held tension in my shoulders."

Dean increased the pressure. Another moan escaped Melanie.

"You were so beautiful the first time I saw you."

Melanie pulled Dean's hand away from her shoulder. She kissed the protruding veins. "I thought you were handsome too. My heart may have fluttered a bit." She pressed Dean's hand to her chest.

"I'll never forget that night."

"Night? Don't tell me you have me confused with someone else. We met at lunch at Luther's." Melanie let out a short, hard laugh.

Dean took his other hand away from Melanie. "I'm not confused. I meant night."

Dean's words were muffled. Melanie pushed his hand away from her and she turned to face him. Fear stopped her heart. Dean was wearing a clown mask. Not just any clown mask. It was identical to the mask one of the robbers wore in New York.

Melanie sprang to her feet, tripping over the edge of an area rug. She fell and hit the back of her head on the coffee table. She was out cold.

Dean lifted the mask from his face. "I swear, if you killed yourself before I get the pleasure." He pulled the mask over his face, lifted Melanie, and tossed her over his shoulder.

D
on't think
about moving or I'll put a bullet in your forehead.

Melanie opened her eyes and gasped as if hands were wrapped around her throat, stealing life. She jerked her arms, but they only moved a few inches. The force felt as though it ripped her shoulder out of its socket. Melanie tried to move her legs. No budging.

"Feisty."

Dean rocked in the rocking chair given to Melanie after her grandfather's death. She loved that chair. When she was a little girl, her Paw Paw used to sit in the chair and read her stories while she played with her dolls. Dean picked his fingernails with a knife. The butcher knife that Melanie insisted he arm himself with for protection. Dean hummed along with the creaking of the thirty-year-old chair. Melanie's heart fluttered, but this was much different from the first time, or at least what she thought was the first time, she had seen Dean. His face was hidden beneath the mask that chased sleep away from Melanie. Throbbing pain from the fall pricked her neck. She tried to move her arm again. No luck.

"You hit your head pretty hard. You'll probably have a nasty bump. On the bright side, you're not bleeding." Dean stuck the knife into the arm of the rocking chair, digging into the wood as he wrote something. "I had to tie you up. I remember you're a fast runner."

"You followed me here? How did you find me?"

"Internet. You can find anything on the Internet. I would have been here sooner, but when you're in jail, traveling takes a backseat."

"Why? I didn't see your face. You got away with it."

"I fell in love with you at first sight."

Melanie showed fear that night in the alley. The two clowns got off on it. Months after the robbery, her purse, cash, and credit cards were replaced, but Melanie couldn't get back the dignity she felt she lost that night. Giggles from the clowns as she begged for her life haunted her. She made a promise to herself that if ever in a similar situation again, she wouldn't show fear. Melanie didn't break promises, but there was a part of her that didn't know if she could keep this one. Just another reason she’d moved to Black Dog, hoping to never confront this type of fear again. But, here she was, restrained to her bed by the same man who caused her to make the promise. Melanie had to be strong.

"You have a funny way of showing love," she said.

Dean lifted the mask, resting it just above his eyes. "Oh, this isn't love, honey. Love comes from the inside...the inside of your body. True love is slow dancing with your intestines."

Don't beg. Be tough,
Melanie thought. Unsure of her ability to stay strong, Melanie didn't respond to Dean.

"I'm not the same kid I was when we first met." Dean laughed. "Back then, I was just some punk robbing chicks for beer money. I've matured. I've developed a taste for the finer things." Dean paused. "Like murder."

Murder
. The word shook Melanie to the core. She never accepted that the virus would kill her. She was healthy and hadn't come into contact with anyone who was sick. Eventually, there would be a cure.
Murder.
It put focus on her mortality. The way the town was surrounded. First Sergeant James Carpenter couldn't pull some strings and get his own daughter out. Black Dog was viewed as a threat to national security. Her father preached "eliminate the threat." Reality hit and it hit hard. Melanie was going to die in Black Dog, but she would not give Dean the pleasure of taking her life.
All I have to do is get him to untie me,
she thought.

"Fate really must be on my side. I had no idea when I moved to Black Dog that I'd get the girl and be allowed to kill at will. No law makes Dean a happy boy."

Melanie laughed. "Fate. You're trapped in a town the United States military views as a threat to the country. You can't leave. No matter what happens today, you will die here. I will die here. Anyone still alive will die here. I think you mean karma is on your back."

Dean smirked. "Just gives me something else to kill. Splitting Luther's gourd with an ax was fun. Choking out that weird waitress with a chain was a rush. Those highs don't last. I'm jonesing again."

"You killed Vera?"

Dean's lip curled, and he nodded. "She wasn't even sick. She begged for her life just like you did."

Melanie ignored the comparison. "And at work? Did Tyler attack you?"

"Nope. Harold screwed everything up. He had to go. Jerry smelled like tuna. He always smelled like tuna. I hate tuna." Dean mimicked a shiver. "Tyler, well, he was the boss. I have a problem with authority." He went back to carving something into the chair.

"What do you plan to do with me?"

Dean jammed the knife into the wood. He scratched his chin. "Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. Any ideas on what I should do with you?"

"I'd say let me go, but I don't think that's going to happen."

"You're the reason I'm here. Now that I got you, I'm not letting you go." Dean cocked his head as if he were studying Melanie. "You've grown up too. You're not that scared little girl anymore. This will be fun."

"How can it be fun if you keep me tied up?"

Dean stood up and walked to the bed. He traced the knotted rope around Melanie's ankle. He never touched her, but that didn't stop her flesh from crawling.

"I've had plenty of fun with tied-up girls."

Dean leaned in to kiss Melanie. She turned her head. His lips rested on her cheek. Melanie noticed they were chapped and rough; something she ignored when she thought Dean was her soulmate. His warm breath held a faint stench. Maybe coffee. Something else that Melanie hadn't noticed. Dean wasn't Mr. Perfect.

"Playing hard to get, huh?"

Dean ran his hand over Melanie's stomach. Butterflies she once felt for him were now tiny daggers stabbing her gut. She fought back the urge to vomit. Dean rubbed his crotch against her bound hand. The zipper scraped her knuckles. Melanie refused to acknowledge the pain.

"I've been dreaming of this since that night in New York," Dean said.

I have to get free,
Melanie thought. "Of what? Raping me while I'm tied up?"

Dean stepped back and shook his head. "I don't want to rape you. Sex does nothing for me."

"Then untie me. Chase me. How far can I get? Don't you want this to be memorable? You came all this way to kill and you're not even going to let me put up a fight."

Her defiance against being a victim surprised Melanie. It surprised Dean too. He took another step back and sat in the rocking chair. He took the knife and pointed it at Melanie.

"Why aren't you scared?"

"What do I have to live for? This isn't like in New York. I'm not graduating in three weeks. I may be a prisoner in my own home, but worse than that, I'm a prisoner in this town. I can't escape. So why keep me tied up?"

Dean dropped the knife, placed his hands together, put his thumbs under his chin, his index fingers under his nose, and thought.

"More than likely, this will be your last kill. Take a look around. There isn't anyone left. Untie me. Work for it. I can't get away. Let the chase turn you on."

Dean smiled. He picked up the knife and walked to Melanie. Dean traced the rope tying Melanie's ankle to the bedpost. He ran the blade underneath the rope. With one hand on the rope, Dean jerked upwards. The knife shredded the rope. Melanie's leg was free.

"I am going to kill you."

Dean moved to her other foot. Another swipe of the knife and Melanie's other leg was free. Kicking Dean as hard as possible flashed through her mind, but her hands were still bound. If she reacted now, she wouldn't have a chance.
What am I going to do when he frees my hands?
Melanie thought.
I'm going to have to kill him. Can I do that?

Dean grabbed Melanie's wrist. The rope dug in, burning her flesh. She bit her lip so that she wouldn't whimper aloud. Dean ran the blade along the length of the rope between Melanie's wrist and the bedpost as if he were whittling a piece of wood.

"I'm not stupid," Dean said. "I'll cut this hand free and you'll try to poke out my eyes or something as I reach over you to free your other hand."

Dean straddled Melanie's chest. His weight forced her to gasp. He held the knife to her throat. Melanie closed her eyes in attempt to fight back tears.

"I'm not going to kill you yet. You were right. The thrill is in the kill, but there's nothing like a good chase to get the adrenaline pumping."

Dean freed Melanie's wrist. He didn't realize the rope attached to her other wrist had frayed from the early knife play, but Melanie knew. While Dean was cutting her right wrist free, she grabbed a full-size Maglite that her father bought her for Christmas with her left hand. She kept the flashlight next to the bed in case the power went out.

Melanie's wrist was still bound to the bedpost, but the tension had loosened. She hoped she had enough strength to hit Dean with the light and free herself.

"One more and then the fun begi…"

Before Dean could finish the sentence, Melanie landed the flashlight against his temple with enough force to break the rope and render Dean unconscious. She screamed, not out of fear, but as a way to release pent-up emotions. Melanie pushed Dean off her. His body slumped and made a sickening thud when it hit the floor. Melanie didn't care.
Hit him again.
Melanie's mind tried to convince her it was the right thing to do. This was her chance at revenge. A rare opportunity to regain the dignity she felt she lost during the robbery. As her mind screamed to finish Dean, something inside told her it wasn't the right thing to do. Melanie was afraid the guilt of murdering someone would be worse than lost dignity. She clutched the flashlight to her chest and ran. Melanie had survived — for now.