Countrycide- by Anna O'Connor
Grey clouds cover the sky from horizon to horizon, setting a chill over the semi-green grass. The clouds don't warn of storms or unsafe weather, but rather normality. This is the sky that constantly shrouds Wales in a dark grey cloak. Sunshine is rare here, more rare than drought and a day where the temperature is over 70.
Today is no different, and the reason why five friends are driving on a long, lonely road to the countryside, paying no heed to the weather. Of these individuals, one is less than pleased to be present on this trip.
"I hate the countryside." Cockney syllables break the silence that had settled within the hub of the car. "It's dirty, it's unhygienic." A small sniff of the air that blows through the cracked window brings a sneer to his thin face. "And what is that smell?"
Behind him a girl with black hair framing her face gives him an expressionless look, replying with a thick Welsh voice. "That'd be grass." The man, Owen, turns in his seat to the woman, Gwen.
"It's disgusting." The car continues down the road, turning off only when a small dirt road appears. It can hardly be called a road for all it is is a small rut in the ground that ends five feet from the broken concrete of the main route. Despite this the SUV continues until it comes to a small valley between the high hills of the Brecon Beacons.
Twenty minutes later find the friends setting up the tents. Two have already been completed, standing sturdy and stable against the small breeze that wisps through the valley. From the back of the vehicle Owen and Jack pull a packed tent. Jack stands tall next to the Londoner, with light brown hair that contrasts with Owen's black hair, and dark blue eyes that one could stare into for ages and never find their depth.
"What's wrong with a hotel?" The shorter man complains. A chuckle from Jack who helps him carry the tent causes Owen to scowl.
"Come on, live a little!" An American accent, unique in these parts, replies jovially. "We are probably the only species in the universe who go camping! Celebrate your individuality." The jibes are lost on Owen, "because sleeping outdoors is so great!" the mumbled words dripping with sarcasm.
With camp set, Gwen and Owen go out in search for firewood. Jack stays behind with the other two members of their party to finalize the details of the camp. Toshiko, or Tosh, is standing with various tools strewn about, building a fire pit with Ianto. The woman is small, her build complimented by her Asian features, but has a mind to put others to shame. Beside her Ianto, a native Welshman of slight build, dark hair, pale skin, and shy blue eyes, does the handiwork of the pit while she directs.
Witty comments and easy small talk is passed between the trio as they work. The jovial air ends abruptly when a scream is heard. All time stops as the friends look towards the woods with wide eyes, frozen. Suddenly they are all moving quickly, scrambling to drop their tools, stand, and run to the woods. Jack yells their friends' names in worry that gnaws deep in his stomach. Behind him, Tosh and Ianto struggle to keep pace with him, stumbling over stray branches and unseen dips in the ground.
Finally they come to a clearing, and what they see stops them dead in their tracks. Jack, face white and eyes wide, notes sub-consciously that their two friends are well. Owen is standing with a hand on Gwen's back as she is sick behind a tree. The Londoners face is pale, but he appears to be holding his own.
A few meters away from them is a sight none of them will forget. A body, stripped of skin with maggots replacing its insides and sticky red blood coagulating around it, lies at the base of a tree.
"Oh my... God..." Tosh's hands flies to her agape mouth as she closes her eyes and tries to un-see the gore before her. Next to her, Ianto attempts to do the same, but is the first to come to his senses among the three who have just entered the scene. He walks forward, unable to take his eyes from the body, and grips Jacks hand. It is cold and damp from the sheen of cold sweat covering the mans brow.
After what feels like hours, he eventually pulls his eyes from the figure, and turns to look at Jack. With Ianto being a mere inch shorter than the American, he is able to see the glint of horror in his eyes without looking up. Somewhere behind him, Gwen and Owen have moved to Tosh, who immediately throws her arms around both of them.
"Jack..." He tries to pull the man from his stupor of wide eyed staring. He is unable to console him further as the sudden sound of an engine gunning snaps Jack to attention. His head snaps to look at Ianto, and they both recognize the sound. Behind them, Owen swears colorfully as he begins to run through the woods, the rest of them following close. Soon they reach the small valley where their camp sight was.
Everything was trashed, the tents torn down and the camp bags crushed by the tires of the vehicle. The five stand and look at the carnage of their site with wide eyes. The SUV was gone, but tire tracks showed that it had gone back the way they had come.
"Bloody hell!" Owen growls, kicking the nearest object to him, the remains of a backpack. The others looked around the destruction in shock, mouths and eyes wide open as they tried to comprehend what is happening.
An hour later, after searching through the remains of the camp, and pushing down panic, they stand, looking at a map pinned to a rock by their hands. It was guess work, trying to find their location, but they could tell the closest town is near fifteen miles away. By foot it would take a few hours to reach the farm town, though it was not much of an option to not go.
The trek across the countryside, with Jack and Ianto leading, took four hours. By then the sky had begun to dim to a dark, foreboding grey. Conversation was fleeting between the group, mostly between Owen and Gwen who took to bickering between each other.
"Oi! You're steppin' on my heels." Griped the Londoner.
"'s not my fault you're a slow walker."
"I am not slow! If I am, would you so kindly walk beside me rather than pulling me shoes off!"
"Owen, beside you is a sodden hillside 's steep as a cliff."
"And I would complain if you went tumblin' down." The man snarked.
The arguments continues for the next ten minutes before they wore out, ending with Gwen nudging Owen's shoulder in a silent apology. Tosh smiles at the two, and can't help but be amused despite their situation. The dead body was still imprinted freshly in her sharp mind.
When they arrived in the village, unease settles over the air in thick sheets. There is no one in sight and no signs of life, anywhere. Jack looks around, his eye peeled for any motion that might help them. He turns back to his friends with a sigh.
"Let's look around, there's gotta be someone here." They nodded, and he set off with Ianto to look around one side of the small village. It was more like a small collection of farmhouses, a connected row on either side of the single dirt road with an occasional alleyway. Each house was painted a different, solid color or left with the stone bare.
Unease radiated off of Jack as Ianto walked next to him. He couldn't help but glance over at him more often than usual. It wasn't until that their friends had moved around the other side of the buildings that he chanced reaching out and grasping Jacks hand in his own. In response the American gripped in in assurance.
They moved along the houses, looking around the opposite row across the street. Hands were dropped as they looked up the steep hillside behind the houses. Curious, Ianto walked up the hill and looked up at it's peak, wondering if perhaps there was another farmhouse behind it. Turning back around to consult Jack, he paled as he noticed Jack was not where he had just been standing.
"Jack!" He shouted, desperate for an answer. Fear crawled through his veins, and he felt as though someone had just punched his stomach. He scrambled down the hillside, looking about wildly while moving along the back of the buildings. Glancing down an alley, and noting that it was empty, Ianto walked into it, his heart pounding.
A shuffle and a fierce pain was the last things he was aware of before his vision exploded to black.
Ianto wakes, and the first thought he has is that he's gone blind. There's no light anywhere. His breaths come in pants and his eyes blink repeatedly, trying to find some light.
"Yan?" That voice. His breath hitches.
"Jack...?" A choked laugh comes from his left.
"God, Yan..." Clothes rustle as he shifts, and Ianto can feel Jacks shoulder on his. Immediately, Ianto leans over, shifting around and buries his head in Jacks neck.
"Hey, hey..." A cheek rests on top of his head. "You're fine, I'm fine..." The words are meant to reassure, but the confidence behind them is lacking just that much. Ianto shakes his head.
"No we're not." He sits back up, and looks around the dark room, slight silhouettes giving him an idea of the larger objects. Some he recognizes as farm tools, some crates, piles of... Shoes...
Dozens upon dozens of shoes, he can make that much out. Stacked from the floor and up about two feet. He knows what that means.
"We're going to die here... Aren't we..." Silence answers him, but lips press to the top of his head. "Have... Have you tried the door?" Panic is settling in his voice. He doesn't know what is happening, but he knows what is going to happen. One way or another, his trainers and Jacks boots were going to be added to that pile.
"I can't, they tied my feet." The helpless tone in Jacks voice breaks Iantos last resolve. He leans his head back on Jacks shoulder, and cries silent tears.
For what feels like hours they sit in silence, their breathing and the occasional kiss the only noises.
"I'm sorry..." Jack breaths, and the other man shakes his head. Then they talk. Private statements of assurance, love, apologies-
Until the door on the far wall bangs open, and the dark light from there is blinding to them. They look through squinted eyes in terror at the men standing in the doorway, one holding a riffle, their features silhouetted against the light. One head tilts to the side, and he points the gun at Jack. The other man moves forward, and grabs Jack roughly by the fabric of his jacket, yanking him up.
"No!" Ianto screams, he jerks forward to stop him, but his bound hands don't allow him the balance and he falls to the ground at the mens feet. The one with the gun looks down at him, and raises the butt of the weapon.
"No, Ianto! Please-" with a sickening thunk his vision spreads to black again.
A rotting substance and a sickeningly iron tang are the first things Ianto is aware of as consciousness returns to him. Gravely hard ground presses against his cheek and his arms are tied behind his back.
Panic grabs him like a vice, pushing the air from his lungs through the gag in his mouth. The dirty piece of cloth tastes of rot and something he would rather not think of. The pain that overwhelms his senses is the worst, like rocks tumbling around in his head and neck, every sharp clang making it pound.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, and immediately wishes they were closed again.
Blood. Everywhere, just blood. On the floors, it disappears from his line of vision under his cheek, splattered on the walls and seeped into the cracks of the ground. Its coagulated and sticky all around him, crusted and flaking in other places. His stomach turns, but the gag in his mouth stops anything from coming up.
Suddenly, he is turned onto his back with a harsh kick to his shoulder. The light above him is blinding for a moment before he realizes there is someone staring down at him. An old man, with rotting teeth and harsh skin, grins down at him like a child at Christmas.
Ianto struggles against his binds, the fear in his stomach seeping to other parts of his body, and his limbs feel weak. His eyes are wide and pleading for release, but the man only grins, until he bends down and grabs Ianto by his short hair, dragging him up. The terrified mans screams are muffled by the cloth, and realizing that it's fruitless to make such a noise, shifts down to panicked gasping through his nose.
An unhinged chuckle escapes the mans chapped and dirty lips. "Yer not gettin' 'way, boy." His breath reeks of rot and alcohol. "Ain't nobody comin' ta get ye either." His mad cackles fill the small space they are in.
Ianto feels the panic gnawing at his skull again, and he lets it take over. Sobs heave through his chest, and the noise is muffled by the rag in his mouth. The man laughs and pulls him by his hair to a table that Ianto had failed to notice. Horror seeps through to his bones that have turned to ice at the sight of the blood covered wood with gashes and cleaves in the wood.
He knows what this is, and helplessness washes over him. The man seems to notice his body sagging, and only laughs more.
"Meat! Tha's all ye are to us! A game." His head jerks forward as he's thrown into the table, his body lying limp over it, the fight gone from him. Ianto registers that he's being moved, lying on his back with his hands crammed under him. He lies there, tears leaking down his face.
A door bangs open, and he flinches at the sound. A large group of men enter, unfazed by the shaking form lying on the table. The man with rotting teeth looks over at them.
"Look't me catch, lads." All the heads turn towards the table, and Ianto can feel their hungry eyes on his skin, making him want to curl in on himself. One of the man gives a whistle of appreciation.
"Fit, inn'e. Like't one yeh got earlier? 'merican, righ'?" No... No... Jack. The revelation places grief like a lead weight on his chest, and he can't breath, he can't see, he can't think because Jack is... Dead...
Ianto doesn't register the tears streaming down his face, the small sobs that go unnoticed by the men, because there is nothing he can feel to save himself from this. He blankly looks at the ceiling, where more blood is caked. How'd it get there...
The man is talking, but he doesn't bother to listen just stares at the ceiling, and thinks. Thinks of how Owen was right, that the countryside is horrible. He thinks of Tosh, the clever Asian girl, and hopes she and Gwen are able to escape this madness. He thinks of Jack, the man who he loves, who died in this room, who's dead, who's never going to come back... Hell, he himself is never getting out of this. He's a dead man.
He can't feel sad, only hope that it was quick, and that this... Cannibal didn't draw out his torment. As his clothes are ripped from his body, and arms pinned to the side of the table, Ianto is numb.
The knife pierces his flesh, and he screams