WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS PROFANITY AND SEXUAL REFERENCES.

Chapter Ten

"Gamblin' Man"

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10K awoke as his legs were being bound tightly to the legs of a dining room chair. With a groan, he tried to lift up his head and look around. They were in the dining room, where he had been taken when they first arrived here, and across the table from him, Murphy was being similarly bound to a chair.

"You okay, kid?" Asked Murphy quietly, as soon as he saw 10K wake up.

10K nodded slowly. Strangely, he felt better than okay... the pain in his head was mostly gone, and the blurriness in his thoughts and vision had cleared and sharpened. A crease appeared between his brows... Why did he feel almost fully healed...?

His eyes darted across the surface of the table as something occurred to him.

The bite...

The bite must be responsible for his quick recovery... that had been a serious head injury. He had been sure his skull was cracked... but now, almost nothing. No pain...

He didn't want to think about it... he didn't know what to think, so he gave his head a little shake, and looked up at the hostiles. "What are we doing here?" He demanded hoarsely.

They were standing close together, four of them, speaking to each other in Spanish. When they heard him, they all turned to look at him, and Alejandro faced the table as well. He seemed to study 10K closely for a moment, and a smirk started to spread across his face. "Good morning, niño..." he murmured in his sharply accented drawl, "You are feeling much better?" He came to the table and spun one of the chairs around, sitting down on it backward, resting his arms across the top rail. He looked back and forth between the two of them, before settling his gaze on Murphy, still with a faint smirk. "We are very fortunate, yes? More fortunate than anyone else on this earth, I might say..."

"Don't count your money while you're sitting at the table," warned Murphy, staring down their captor. "You'll probably lose it all, when the dealing's done."

Alejandro let out a short laugh. "I am not a gambling man, señor Murphy."

Murphy surveyed Alejandro coldly, and his brows came together in a frown. "Yes you are, Al... You're gambling right now."

Alejandro stared back at Murphy for a moment. After another minute's tense hesitation, he straightened up, and gestured for his comrades to take their leave. He held out an arm to stop one of them, and they all turned to listen. "No tienen su manera con las mujeres hasta más tarde esta noche, antes de que ellos y fiesta cocinar." The man sounded stern.

The hostiles looked disappointed by whatever Alejandro had said, none of which Murphy or 10K had understood, but they nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Alejandro turned to face the table again, folding his arms over the back of the seat once more. He returned his attention to Murphy. "You y el niño are very lucky, señor," he remarked, with a smile that made 10K's neck prickle.

"Yeah? How's that?" Murphy demanded, with a sharp, angry laugh..

Alejandro clasped his hands. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and dangerous. "You will not have to suffer the same fate as your companions."

10K felt a flare of anger. He stood halfway, fighting against the ropes binding his legs to the chair, which screeched across the wooden floor when he moved. "What are you doing with them?" He ground out, struggling against the ropes.

Alejandro turned from Murphy to look at 10K. He raised himself up and walked around the corner of the table, drawing his gun. 10K stiffened, watching the barrel of the gun until it pushed roughly against his chest. "Sit down."

10K was pushed back into the chair, so he sat, without looking away from the hostile. Alejandro slowly removed the gun from his chest, but didn't holster it.

"What are you going to do with them?" growled 10K again, staying in his seat this time.

Alejandro moved around the table, and sat backwards on his own chair again. He turned his steady gaze back to 10K. "What will we do with them? They will be fucked," he replied coolly, folding his hands on the table over the back of the chair without looking away from 10K. "That is what you call it, no? They will be fucked. All of them, as many times as any of us desire."

10K's jaw clenched, and his heartbeat quickened, a swell of nausea creeping up his throat. He fought the urge to look at Murphy, but his eyes flickered away from Alejandro, to the floor, the top of the table... he tried to force down his reaction so it wouldn't show on his face, but he knew he wasn't succeeding.

"Bad idea, Al," snarled Murphy from where he sat, "You don't know what these people are capable of, each and every one of you will be castrated before you can even- - "

"They will be fucked up, down, and sideways. The will be fucked into the floor, into the walls, into their own graves," continued Alejandro loudly, cutting across Murphy's furious threat. "Because when we have had all the fun we want, their throats will be cut from ear to ear. They will be drained, skinned, and quartered... and put over the fire to roast, mi pequeño amigo."

10K slowly shook his head, fighting down the nausea. He couldn't look at Murphy... he was suddenly very aware of his body, and everything else in the room, as Alejandro's words sunk in. His skin started prickling and tingling as images of the collector's face came to mind. At that very moment, in his sudden silent panic, 10K would have preferred being tormented by the Collector again.

The hostile made a condescending clicking noise with his tongue, taking his eyes off 10K's face. He lay his gun flat on the surface of the table, and idly spun it around a few times, before bringing it to a stop with the barrel pointed toward Murphy. "We are going to get to the bottom of this, before tonight's festivities," the hostile informed them, sounding dangerously impatient. "I must know exactly what your abilities are, señor Murphy. I must know precisely how it is that you control those you have bitten." He slowly spun the barrel of the gun to point at 10K. "You are going to show me."

10K finally forced himself to glance over at Murphy, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he was sure the other two could hear it. Murphy met his eyes when he saw him look, and gave a short, subtle shake of his head. A reassurance... but 10K wasn't reassured. He had a deep, sinking rush of foreboding in his chest, worse even than when he'd learned he had been bitten.

Murphy turned icy eyes on their captor. "You really are a gamblin' man..."

"I am a man who knows what he wants," Alejandro corrected him, unclasping his hands and standing back up. "Now... I do not want you to get any ideas. Do not try to escape from here." He picked up his gun from the table and walked over to the door, his cowboy boots clicking dully on the floor. Pulling open the door, he stood aside so that Murphy and 10K could see the backs of two of the hostiles standing guard, rifles ready. Both the hostiles turned to look at their leader when the door was opened, but Alejandro ignored them, shutting the door again. "You see?" He said to his captives, slowly walking back to the table, but not taking his seat. "If you try to escape, you will be shot. Not fatally, of course... if you are even able to die... you will be shot in the leg, or the foot, or both... whatever we must do to secure you. Do you understand?"

"I understand you're nuts," said Murphy in a grating tone, giving another struggle against the ropes.

10K didn't speak. He watched the hostile's every move, his eyes wider than he wanted them to be as he waited in uncertain silence.

Alejandro holstered his gun, drawing a knife out of his belt with his other hand. Before 10K could react, Alejandro strode to him and knelt in one fluid movement, slicing the knife up through the ropes restraining 10K's legs. The ropes fell to the floor, severed, and Alejandro straightened, pressing the tip of the knife against 10K's front. 10K, who had made to jump to his feet, fell slowly back into the chair at the point of the knife.

"Whoa..." said Alejandro softly, shaking his head. "Not yet, niño tonto.." He made a gesture with the knife, "Lean forward."

10K didn't move. He remained stock still, staring at Alejandro. More chills of panic ran up and down his spine.

After a few seconds, Alejandro rolled his eyes. "Everything will take so long?" He complained. The next second, he had reached forward in a flash to grip 10K by the back of his hair. With his other hand, Alejandro had brought his blade up to press against the front of 10K's throat, under his chin.

The boy inhaled sharply, taken aback.

"Don't!" Yelled Murphy furiously, "I'm the one who knows the answers, not the kid!"

Alejandro paused to look over at Murphy, stil gripping 10K by the hair. 10K could feel the blade slicing lightly against his skin under his jaw. A warm trickle of blood ran from his neck down his chest, staining his dark gray boxers. Alejandro let up on the knife a little, but continued to press it against 10K's throat as he stared at Murphy. "So you admit that you do know the answers," he remarked, another smirk curling his lips.

"Look, whatever I know, its more than the kid knows, so let him be," growled Murphy. "Your business is with me."

Alejandro watched him closely for another few seconds. "Sí, señor... it is. I will get every answer from you, and if I do not get the answers before the feast tonight, I will stop your delivery to California until I get them. You must believe me, señor Murphy... that is not something that you want me to do. Either of you... Now, hold STILL."

Alejandro forced 10K's head down between his knees, eliciting a gasp of surprise from the boy as he was roughly pushed down. Alejandro's elbow dug into his back, preventing him from moving. 10K pushed his bare feet against whatever he could; he connected solidly with something, but his feet slid past Alejandro's legs, and he scrabbled for another foothold.

But then to his surprise, he was able to pull his arms free from behind his back; Alejandro had cut the ropes. Instinctively, be brought his hands forward and tried to grab onto Alejandro's pant legs, the only part of him he could see, but his fingers were asleep. All he could do was push against the man's legs, his torso pinned forward, caught between the arms of the chair and the hostile's significant bulk.

"Stop," commanded Alejandro from somewhere above him. "Do not make this harder than it must already be."

10K felt Alejandro's weight release him, and he hastened to sit up, jumping out of his chair with unbound arms and feet. He leaped for the corner, spinning around to face Alejandro with his hands wielded in front of him, ready to fight... they were his only weapons.

But Alejandro laughed cruelly, taking a few steps back, and raising his own hands in mock defeat. "I surrender," he said calmly, putting his knife down on the table as he looked to Murphy. "Can you believe? Este niño is very fast, no?"

"Hell of a lot faster than you sons o' bitches," snarled Murphy. The arms of his chair were starting the groan and pop, getting ready to break.

Alejandro drew his gun from his holster once more, aiming it at Murphy. "You break the furniture, I'll use the splinters to carve a tattoo on your dick. But... I think that's the least of your problems, señor." He swung the gun around to aim at 10K. "You will make este niño walk to me. You will make him take off my belt from my pants, and give it to me."

Murphy stared at Alejandro, caught off guard. "What?" He growled after a prolonged moment of silence.

Alejandro cocked his pistol. "You heard what I said, mancha de mierda... do it. Now."

10K stared between Murphy and Alejandro, his hands still held out in front of him, light on his feet and ready to dodge or jump. At the hostile's words, his chest turned even colder and his heart plummeted into his stomach. He heard Murphy refuse the order, and then refuse it again, in many more colorful words... But Alejandro clicked his tongue, lowering his gun a few feet. Without any further warning, a gunshot ripped through the air, and the bullet sang into the wall beside 10K. Instinctually, he leaped sideways, covering his face with his arm to try and avoid bits of flying drywall.

The leap sent him tumbling into the kitchen counter, knocking several cans of food off as he tripped over a folded carpet. He scrambled to get back to his feet, grasping one of the food cans from the floor as he did, and whirled around, drawing back his arm to aim and throw. He let the can fly, aiming true, but Alejandro was able to duck to one side of it just in time. The can narrowly missed Murphy at the table, and crashed through the kitchen window, shattering a large hole in the glass.

Alejandro straightened up and made a dash toward 10K. 10K tried to dive sideways, but Alejandro caught him with an arm around his middle, and threw him backward away from the counter. Lunging after him, the hostile threw a punch at 10K's face, but the boy dodged it, twisting sideways in another attempt at getting loose. Alejandro caught him by the arm this time, forcing him around, and bending him over the table, slamming his head down against it. With one hand, Alejandro dug a knife into 10K's side, and with the other, he pushed down against the back of the boy's neck. 10K bent his knees, trying to kick, and his hands scrabbled on the surface of the table, but Alejandro bent over him from behind, delivering a sharp shove against his neck. "Se muda pequeña perra!" He hissed into 10K's ear, resting his body over 10K's much smaller frame.

"¿Está todo bien?" The guards had opened the door at the sound of breaking glass, and were staring into the kitchen.

"¡Cállate! ¡Salí!" Alejandro snapped, not raising himself from 10K's back. The hostiles shut the door again with haste.

Murphy closed his eyes tightly. From his appearance, he may have been trying not to see the pain and fear on 10K's face. But that wasn't what he was doing... he had begun to focus all his energy on one thing, and one thing only. He didn't know how far his influence over the zombies could reach... he had never controlled more than a few of them at a time, and never from a distance. But he grabbed onto that feeling of power in his mind, sharpening it, stretching it, casting it out in all directions with all the intensity he could muster.

In the streets of Roswell, half a mile from the house in which Murphy sat, groups of zombies stumbled to a stop, turning their heads back and forth. Their groans and hisses ceased, as they slowly came about to stare toward the house from all directions. A few of them took some lurching steps in that direction. Then more of them followed, speeding up as they stumbled forward.

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