As a warning, this chapter contains adult themes and situations.
Two: Andromeda
Maureen sat leaning against the glossy cement block wall of the mid-nineties single story office building. Her head drooped to the side, a vacant expression on her face. She only slept three hours the night before, awakened by her dreams with a start. The surreal vision of seeing herself standing on the roof of an old friend's high rise apartment building, the sky glowing orange still played against her eyelids. In the dream, she saw herself watch the modern empire of Atlanta fall into the hands of dead. Smoke and napalm in the streets, the great propellers of the military choppers beating the sky.
The past weeks had been a revolving door of pure hell. The days seemed to blend together. Each day seemed to have neither a beginning nor an end. Her hunger was a vague thought; no longer a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stopped eating two days ago, in the evening she thought it was.
The laughter of the men across from her brought her back to reality. "You okay Peaches 'n' cream?" One of the men snickered. "I think she's lost it." Her eyes darted around the room, her head foggy. Their voices echoed in her ears. She dragged the back of her hand across her clammy forehead in an effort to clear her head. She blinked hard.
"You hungry?" Another man stood holding a can of baked beans.
Hunger. She must be hungry. Yeah, she was hungry. Not baked beans again, she thought.
"Come on. You gotta eat babe. You need your strength." He nudged her leg and smiled unkindly.
She knew she should feel hot in the building with its still, oppressive air, but she was cold. Her body felt disconnected from her mind. Her dress was soaked with cold sweat. The man knelt between her legs and waved the spoon in front of her face, a big bite that threatened to fall off the spoon and into her lap.
She shifted and winced, trying to keep her neck from kinking up. He placed the spoon directly in front of her lips, the spoon just touching her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and looked away and wiped the sweet, molasses flavored sauce from her bottom lip using her shoulder.
Another man said, "If you know what's good for ya you'd eat that. Told you she ain't one tad bit grateful for what we've provided for 'er," He turned his attention back to her. "Could've left you for dead like the rest of yer group, but we gave you a safe place to rest that pretty little head'a yours, fed ya, showed ya a good ol' time. And we don't get one word of thanks."
"Leave me alone or put me down," she garbled.
"Put 'er down, you hear that Andy. Damn, bitch must be desperate. You don't like us, Hon? Or are you just sad over your people still? Thought you said ya didn't know 'em well. Only knew 'em a week. Poor, sad girl. Put 'er on suicide watch, Landry!" The three chuckled.
They all stiffened and Maureen's eyes widened a bit at the creaking door. The large man slammed it behind him, carrying a bag of supplies over his shoulder. "Hey," he growled, "Appleton, Landry boys! What the fuck are you three doing? Don't tell me you're all just sitting around while I'm out there risking my life."
"Nothin', nothing", "Taking care of 'er", "Yeah, uh huh," the three men stammered all at once.
"Didn't know you were gone," the man named Andy squeaked out.
"Make sure she eats and drinks some. Don't tell me it takes the three of you to fix her up, either. Then send her in to me. One of you morons, start organizing supplies." He moved quickly to the next room, not so much as glancing at Maureen and slammed the door to the office behind him.
The men worked diligently from that point on. One took out the coffee press and measured the grounds. The man still kneeling in front of her shoved the spoonful of beans into her mouth, holding her chin, making sure she didn't spit any out. She swallowed the beans with minimal chewing, trying not to think of them so that she didn't gag.
The coffee, she readily accepted. She loved coffee. She couldn't turn it down no matter how bad it was. The tepid, weak liquid hurt her dry throat at first and then gradually it became more soothing.
After they finished with her they stood her up. Their hasty, jerking movements made her head spin. They had to half carry-half walk her into the room not only because she was weak, but also due to her general unwillingness, and sat her in the chair in front of their leader.
The men waited for words of instruction, but only received an impatient glare before they left the room.
"You've already overstayed your welcome," He began. Maureen's dead eyes turned to anger and confusion crossed her face. They were keeping her here. She wanted to leave. "I think you've paid your dues. You're only a distraction to us now. You'll leave in the morning."
"What?" She whispered, her brow creasing slightly and cocking her head.
"Don't worry, you do what I say tonight and I'll fix you up real well for supplies." His tone was even and virtually uncaring.
"I," she trailed off. Her thoughts were headed into a full tailspin. She was too weak to be on her own. Whatever she had - emotional exhaustion, or some bug - was keeping her weak and groggy.
The man ran his hands through his dark hair impatiently, clearly annoyed by her. "We're moving out tomorrow. Found a good truck and now we're ready to head west. I hear it's better out there."
"You scavenged all my group's things, right?" Her voice was sad and full of acceptance. "I want my things."
"They're dead. Finders keepers. You can have a few items and what's rightfully yours. Your belongs," he clarified. "Come here." He stood up and moved from behind the desk, waving her to him. She shook her head and snapped her eyes shut in a vain attempt at refusal, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him. Her heart raced, the beat humming in her temples. It vibrated through her. His hand was on the back of her neck, his fingers pressing on the sensitive area causing her to shrink under him. He leaned her over the desk, the ink blotter slid under her. There was a coffee cup full of cigarette butts next to her. She decided to focus on that.
He tugged at her underwear and let them fall around her ankles. He grasped her long, red hair in preparation to keep her in place as he entered her so carelessly. The ink blotter kept sliding back and forth underneath her with each thrust. It made it hard to focus on the coffee cup so she began skimming the dates on the ink blotter calendar. Meetings written in red, some pieces of unused tape stuck to the page. Lunch at Connolly's with Harvey written on the 28th of May. The day the first reports of outbreak began to come in. She wondered if the person who worked here ever got to have lunch with Harvey.
Her aching insides kept drawing her attention away from the blotter. Each thrust was more painful that the last, her body now fully rejecting him. She felt torn up and swollen. Her muscles tightened with each impalement and she bit her lip. "Relax," he growled. One hand was on her upper back, most of his weight leaning on that hand. The other grabbing, painfully squeezing her buttock until he finished. Maureen closed her eyes and held it all in. She wouldn't cry.
Mack's world ended when his wife died. She was one of those ungodly things now. He liked this distraction from that pain. He stared at her scars as he used the girl again. Old cigarette burns formed figurative constellations on her body. On her arms, her back, her stomach, her ass. He thought he saw Scorpio on her shoulder blade. He searched for other patterns on her branded skin. The stars burned bright. He felt urged to leave his mark on her too.
He pulled out and grabbed his last cigarette from behind his ear and lit it as she moved to pull up her panties, thinking he'd signaled the end. His lips wrapped around the filter and hot-boxed the cigarette, trying to make the cherry hot and red.
"Stop." He gritted his teeth and tore her underwear back down. It didn't hit her what exactly he was about to do until he told her to hold still.
The men outside the door heard her pleading for the man to stop. They could hear the struggle. Things crashing to the floor. There was panic in her voice. Unsure of what he was doing to her, they all looked at each other with worry and confusion riddling their faces. Their necks craned towards the door. Screaming took over the pleading which gave way to sobbing. The men all looked away when the girl shuffled out of the room with tears rolling down her flushed face. The scent of burning flesh lingered from the office.
The younger Landry brother, who was only younger by a few minutes, stood but faltered. She looked too fragile to touch. Like the lightest touch from the tip of his finger would shatter her to the core and cause her to tumble to the floor into a thousand tiny pieces.
His stomach told him exactly how repulsed he was before his brain. He hadn't realized all this time what they were doing or what kind or unseen scars they were leaving. He grabbed the piss bucket and hurled. The elder brother looked more repulsed by his brother than the sight of the woman sitting in front of them. "All we've seen and this is what finally makes you toss your cookies?"
The man wiped his mouth and spat one more time before gulping his water. He glared at his brother. "Fuck off," he growled and turned to see the redhead crumpled on the floor in the corner of the room. He grabbed a blanket from the pile and threw it over her before he lost the nerve to help her.
Maureen didn't move, she kept her breathing shallow, her heartbeat even louder now and her lungs aching for oxygen-rich breaths. A lack of endorphins coursed through her veins to sooth her searing flesh adequately. She was absolutely exhausted. Sleep overtook her in minutes. She hoped she simply wouldn't wake up.