Curative
By Kaimaler
I can't stop listening to the Walking Dead Game soundtrack, Take Us Back. It's so amazing. x.x
It's kinda' the theme for this story to me, just to me. I'm not trying to say my writing is worthy of it or worthy of being related in anyway to TWD Game which was, seriously, stunning.
So whatev's. :3
Listen to it if you haven't, it's so depressing and sad. :'D
Key:
"This kind means the Voice is speaking."
"Normal speech."
She rooted around the gas station they had stopped at, he was gone, thankfully, and now all she wanted is something to eat.
The convenience store was blessedly unlocked and the door wasn't boarded up like the windows. Signs and graffiti colored the store, a sign inside the window said:
"Come in and take what you need, no charge. Good luck."
She frowned at this, it was so hard to see this kind of hopelessness. The people who lived here must've faced such a terrible point to just start setting these signs up. The graffiti wasn't much better, with lines like "God has left us to die" or "No Hope."
Pushing the door open, she glanced around. It was dark, but the trickle of sunlight made it through the boards enough for her to see well. Then again, she didn't have much of an issue exploring the darker places of the store, her senses allowed her to move around freely and tell where everything is. Another useful trait from her undead history.
She approached the counter, she still felt the need to see if the owner was there. She felt compelled, like years of picking products, going to the counter, and paying for it was just too well ingrained in her head for her to not try and see if she still should pay.
No money though. She huffed, no one was there, it was silent. A thick layer of dust gathered on all the shelves, the floors, the counters, nothing was left untouched.
She wanted food, but she was having difficulty finding it. This place had been looted quite some time ago.
So she stood at the counter, her mind told her to wait for the cashier but sense told her that he or she wouldn't be coming. She still tried though, in the off chance someone was here and they required payment. She hadn't been in this strange world for long, she hadn't a clue how it worked.
"H-hello?" Her voice was coarse, it was a little painful to speak, but the sting of her dry throat and poor voice faded seconds after speaking.
Then, she lowered her head and closed her eyes, no one had answered. Perhaps this world was hopeless? If the world had truly been overrun by the undead, where was her place in it? She didn't have to try hard to survive, since the undead paid no attention to her and as long as she took care of herself, then she could live within the city.
She also wanted to leave Atlanta, it was a dark and foreboding place, she felt like something was about to happen around every corner.
It was beginning to become a little tiresome.
However, she needed food, a steady supply. She lived without eating or drinking anything for over a month, usually people would give into dehydration or starve by now, this was most likely another benefit of her time as one of the undead. They didn't want to eat her, they think her one of their own, she was in a city that may have been looted pretty well, she was still sure she could find food and water.
She hadn't a clue how long she could go without eating, perhaps she never had to eat or drink. This idea was brought on by the fact that, she is very very hungry, but she didn't feel tired or nauseous as a consequence of her not eating or drinking.
It still hurt, but that wasn't enough to stop her from surviving or scavenging for food.
Scavenging. What a weird thing to think about. She never considered scavenging anything before, nor looting or taking for free. Such new apocalyptic words that made her cringe.
Her eyes fluttered open again, she was looking at her hands resting firmly on the counter. The pain of hunger made her uncomfortable, but nothing else.
Snorting, she raised her eyes a little and caught sight of something most disturbing.
Hand prints. They were on the opposite side of the counter, where she had not been. The dust was recently moved because she could see the particles in the air still flying around.
Someone was in here with her.
That shouldn't have scared her, but somehow, it did. Someone was in here and didn't answer her call. She immediately thought they intended to hurt her, she was always a fearful person, never rash or very loud. Lately she seemed to have a little more backbone, like when she attacked her father, but nothing really came of it.
She didn't feel like the attack was her decision, she felt hungry and violent. She wanted to hurt something, someone, and he was the unfortunate recipient. It felt like something took over her head and body, something that told her, no demanded, that she fight, feed, hunt. It wasn't a pleasant experience and one she hoped to forget soon.
Then again, right now, she felt like she could really use that little voice in her head that told her to fight.
"I... I k-know s-s-someone is t-there. C-come out!" She tried her hardest to sound intimidating, like she was armed and dangerous. She was keenly aware that she sounded more like a frightened child with a speech impediment then a hardened survivor.
She heard a noise, it was to her right, behind the counter. Near the back door. She feared that, if this person be dangerous, she should run now, hide in the undead hordes, but if this person was a good person, a survivor who could help her find out what was going on better, then she wanted to speak with him or her.
She took cautious steps towards the opening in the counter, sucking in a deep breath, she leaned through and caught sight of the person.
It was male, a large looking male. He was thoroughly intimidating, he was succeeding at scaring her without even doing anything.
Well, except for pointing a gun at her. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. There's a ton o' those bastards outside and I ain't gettin' killed 'cause some dumb broad can't keep her fuckin' mouth shut."
She snapped her mouth closed, he stood up and walked towards her. "I-I-I... I w-w-was jus-s-st tryin' ta' f-f-find food." She was scared out of her mind, her already poor speech got worse as her fear of this man grew on his approach.
"The fuck is wrong with you, huh?" His glare looked like enough to kill her. She felt her body going numb as his eyes roamed her features. "You look like one o' 'em."
She raised her brow, one of who?
He rolled his eyes, "You look like those zombie bastards. You bit or somethin'?"
She shook her head, thankful that she was wearing a large shawl over her shoulders that covered the bite mark on her neck. She knew enough to recognize that bites mean you die and you turn, so she wasn't about to let him know.
"Good, more for tha' boys." He grinned wickedly at her, she didn't know what he was talking about or what he was doing when he stepped even closer to her, but she got the idea that it wasn't good. "Ya' ain't the pretty, that's fer sure, but a woman is a woman an' we're achin' for one."
"Git a move on it, gonna' bring ya' to the others, let them, heh, blow off some steam." The cold gun met her forehead before he grabbed her and dragged her with him, the barrel of the gun firmly on the back of her skull. She didn't like this, not at all. Who knows what kind of people existed in this twisted world, with no law to reel in the bad and no one to protect the innocent, she began to shake under his grip.
He dragged her out of the convenience store, shoving her ahead of him. It was mostly quiet, the horde was following her father's truck, not this strange man.
She pulled the neck of her jacket up and situated her shawl better, the collar of the jacket and the shawl both covered her bite well enough. Unless he removed both and her shirt, then no one could tell she'd been bitten.
"Saw ya' wit' that guy. Where'd he go?" He was going to interrogate her, he wanted to know where her father was headed and, while she held no qualms about giving them this information, she honestly had no idea where he was going. She didn't listen to him when he was talking about moving on.
"I-I don' k-know." She felt like she was being strangled, her fear welled up her throat, causing her voice to come out little more then a pained whisper.
"He jus' up an' left ya', huh? Dat's cold." He was smirking, she knew he was more then happy her father, another man who could've potentially fought this man off, was gone.
What the hell was he going to do with her?
A few streets down revealed a barricaded building, the minimal amount of undead shuffling around made him anxious to get back to shelter, but the bodies on the ground made her shudder. A few of the bodies didn't even look remotely undead, not at any given point in time. Some had their hands bound, others displayed many signs of being beaten.
She became antsy, she didn't want to end up like that. She wanted to live!
Freezing in place, the man pressed the gun harder to her head. "Better git' a move on it, it won' bother me ta' shoot ya' right here."
"What..." She licked her lips, "W-what are y-you gonna'... gonna' do ta' m-me?" Her eyes were wide and focused on the bodies at her feet, some of them had been moved and stacked to the side, a small pile of burned bodies to her left, and a few left carelessly on the street.
With another shit eating grin, he leaned in close. "Been a long while since tha' boys had a good lay, girl." Her head snapped to him, she shook her head. "N-n-no, w-why would... w-would you d-d-do t-this?"
He now just pulled her along with him, her resistance did nothing to stop him. "Havin't ya' noticed? World gone to shit, girl, might as well have some fun before we all git' bit."
They neared the building, he yanked the door open and forced her inside. Turning around he barred the door with a large wooden board.
"Hey boys! I brought ya'll a present." He holstered his gun and took hold of her arms and pulled. "S-s-s-stop! P-p-please!" She cried, tears forming in her eyes again. She'd just gotten to touch the sunlight, to breathe air again, and escaped from her father only to be taken captive by a rapist and his revolting allies?
She tried to fight back, to run back to the door, but once he got tired of pulling her along, he just bent down and threw her over his shoulder.
She watched the beams of sunlight muddled by the dirty door fading away in the distance, she didn't want to leave the light, she loved the sun. She knew what was waiting for her inside this building with this disgusting man, but she didn't want to face it. She wanted to imagine she wasn't there, that she was back in the light, bathing in the sun.
When they descended into the dark building, he opened another door, took her inside and shut it. No more sunlight, no more fresh air, no more freedom. Just pain, she heard the men cackling, each of them grabbing, groping, and touching her as she was dropped to the floor.
There was four of them, none of them looked particularly friendly. She just wanted this to be over, to return to the sunlight.
So that's what she did, she dreamt of the light, of the warmth on her cold skin, the pure joy she felt when she was finally free. Something, anything, to distract her mind.
Four days passed before she felt like being aware again, she wanted to know what was going on, to see the damage caused.
This survival thing was harder then she thought. She thought that because of her time as one of the undead, that she would be better suited for this world then most, because the undead didn't bother her.
However, this also came at the expense of living in an apocalypse where humans could do as they please and face no punishments. She was both undead and living, she could pass for either, her undead appearance wasn't pretty, but she thought that, if she had come across bad people like the ones that had tied her up now, then her appearance would be enough for them to leave her be.
Unfortunately, the undead cannot speak and talking to that man was very possibly the worst mistake she ever made. Hell, all this was a major mistake. She couldn't stand being here, the pain that burned through her body held no restrictions and they had thankfully not removed her jacket, but they tore her shirt open and her bra.
She was partially naked, her pants unzipped and unbuttoned rested lowly on her hips, almost reaching the point of being indecent, and she was unable to zip up her jacket to hide her abused body from these vicious men.
Her hands were bound behind her back, but the rope was loose enough for her to hope that she could wiggle her wrists free. Possibly even make a run for it.
Then she looked down to her brace, they had not damaged it any, but she was unable to run from them as per her intentions, instead, if she wanted to be free again, she would have to outsmart them.
That didn't seem hard being that they were just arguing over the 'spoiled' powdered milk, that it would get chunky and sour.
She'd have laughed had her mouth not been taped.
Just like her father, she needed to use the undead to stop them from following her. Only problem was, a few undead wouldn't stop anyone, a dozen would make them think twice, but a horde? They would run for the hills.
She listened into their conversations, a few focused on a large number of undead roaming the East streets, that they'd pass in a few days or so. She took this as her opportunity. She didn't know when the next horde would come waltzing by, by then, it could be too late. She could be dead.
All she had to do is wait for them to go to sleep and make a bee line for the horde. She'd have to work fast and quiet if she was to make it.
She was able to slip out of the rope after a few hours of work, the rope cut into her skin and the little amount of blood that began to soak the ropes made it easier to remove her hands.
Once that was out of the way, she waited to see the man on watch. Thankfully, after the others go to bed, the first watch is covered by the smallest of them all, which she was extremely happy about.
He paced around the floor before leaning on the door frame and he stared at her, his eyes bore into her skin and made her uncomfortable, but she knew that if she was to reach him, knock him out or at least silence him somehow, then he'd have to be close to her and she couldn't be seen doing this.
Taking on the worst role she could think of, she played slut. It was like playing dead, but it made her sick to her stomach, having to resort to this in order to get passed them.
She turned to him, displaying her chest to him, licking her lips, and giving him a come hither look that made him jump. He was instantly on her, groping her roughly as she waited for the right moment.
This person, this sneaky, violent person was not her at all, she wouldn't know what to do in this situation. If she'd been captured and raped as these men have done before the apocalypse, then she would've cried and begged for her life.
So far, the only thing she'd done up to this point was cry as they violated her at first, then, after hours of the pain, she stopped and remained silent. There was no one to fight for her, no prisons to hold criminals, and no law enforcement to save her.
She'd have to do this herself.
The voice returned, the one that sent her into a frenzy when her father trapped her in the car. It was not a friendly nor kind voice.
"It wants to hurt you..." She listened attentively, "Hurt him."
He unbuckled his pants and she took the opportunity to carefully reach around him, he couldn't see her hands, he was too preoccupied with undressing himself.
The gun was in his holster and right as he was about to fulfill his primal needs, she pulled the gun out and put it to his head.
He stopped, dead stopped and looked to the gun. His breathing became erratic, he was scared she'd shoot him. She would've if the sound of a gun going off would not have alerted the other men, but sadly, it would. She couldn't pull the trigger, but he didn't know that.
He swallowed, nervous, as she rose from the floor, bringing him up with her. "T-t-t-to the e-exit." She stammered quietly, he didn't seem to notice her stutter and instead complied with her demands. As they passed a table, she caught sight of her shawl and grabbed it before leaving the room with the man at gun point.
Once they were at the door, she made him remove the bar before knocking him over the head. He was unconscious and now she had a weapon.
Fixing her apparel back up, while her shirt was useless, she just zipped up her jacket and threw on her shawl. She opened the door and faced the outside again, it was fresh air though, the rotting corpses around her made sure of that, but outside was outside and she was overjoyed to return to it.
The sound of the man's body dropping to the floor in a loud thump must have awakened his partners, because she could hear them inside calling out for the man. "Yo, Gage, man, where you at?"
She had to hurry, she had to leave now before they found him and chased after her.
The brace served to hinder her speed, but she could make it. Just as she heard the door being slammed behind her, she tried to go faster. The East streets, she saw a sign pointing her in their direction, but the gradually increasing sound of footsteps made her very worried she wouldn't make it.
Finally she heard the sounds of the horde, their shuffles, groans, and moans directed her to them. They wouldn't hurt her, but the men behind her, if they chose to continue following her, would not be so lucky.
"She's headin' straight for those undead bastards!" One exclaimed to his partner, the two just slowed down and watched as she ran into the horde, disappearing in the multitudes of animated corpses.
If they had any sense, they wouldn't try to get her.
She heard them making complaints, saying she was suicidal until she turned around to wave, showing them that she had made it and they failed. Almost a if you want me, come and get me. I dare you.
They turned around, obviously shocked by her ability to walk with the undead without them eating her, even they knew they couldn't get her back. With that in mind and the noise they made before, the horde began to turn and head down the street with the men.
She heard them cry out, telling each other to run as the horde advanced on their base. They had a car and were able to speed away from the horde before they devoured them.
However, she heard the sounds of someone screaming, the man she'd knocked out, Gage, they left him behind and the horde had reached the building.
"It suffers, good." Her eyes stared off into nothingness. "Listen to the screams."
After a few minutes of waiting, she looked up to the moon, she couldn't remember how to tell time from the position of the sun and moon, but she figured it was about to be morning, judging from the pink and orange light behind her.
She had to move now, had to keep going. This time though, she'd take care of herself, fight, she wasn't going to be a victim again. She was physically weak, her time as one of the undead caused her to weaken, the lack of blood supply through the body made her even weaker, and she couldn't very well overpower another human, they were capable of much more strength then her now.
She'd have to play into her ability now, move near a horde, save ammo until absolutely needed, and never, ever approach another human.
The sun came up and she soaked in the light again, how she loved the sun. It was beautiful, comforting, and living. Possibly the best thing on this planet anymore if the whole world succumbed to this infection. The sun would outlive them all, it was empowering for her.
And yet, after a few hours of mulling on her escape, the abuse they inflicted on her, and her holding a gun to a man's head... She had to wonder what was going through her head, she'd never willingly hurt a soul.
Now all of a sudden she was swift and capable of fighting, she felt things she never felt before. Like unabashed rage, her hate grew in size every minute. Every time she looked at the abandoned city, saw the mutilated bodies, or saw the hordes of undead and forced herself to remember that each and every last one of them was human at one time or another.
Human. Alive. With feelings and families.
How could she, a cured undead face this world like it is now? She'd never done anything wrong in her life, she never cheated, assaulted, or stole a thing in her life, but here she was holding a gun and coming to terms with using it on another human being.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She kept hearing a voice in her head, telling her to fight, to bite, to claw, to punch, to kill. This voice would disappear most of the time, but it would return ful force when she faced danger.
Those rapists, after they used her, this voice became louder and angrier. She had no idea if it was the rape that set it off or the pain of her hunger still.
When her father told her he had more tests to do on her, to torture her more, that voice screamed at her to show him what she could do, show him that she was hungry and that he should fear her.
This voice was becoming her greatest concern, she never knew it when it was happening, but sometimes the voice would tell her to go in another direction, to find more food, to feast.
She didn't want to hunt, she wanted to leave this part of the city and hopefully find something to snack on.
That voice whispered in her ear, she was calm now, nothing was trying to hurt her now, yet she listened to the voice and followed its' instructions. It wanted to follow smells and sounds.
Gunshots. She stood still, listening as the shots popped her ears, it was close.
And the voice wanted her to find the source.
"We are so hungry, we must feast... One of them, a living, is nearby. Hunt it down, stop your pain."
