Chapter 6 – Chain of misfortune
Ben awakes with a jerk, hitting the back of his head on something dull behind. At first, he didn't realize what it was, nor was he aware that he was tied up. He felt the sharp pain on the side of his head, feeling dizzy. His hands were tied behind his back as he sat leaned against the hard surface behind him. He doesn't even try to feel the knot strength, knowing he won't get far even if he managed to break free somehow. Not with the captor that noticed him being waking up.
"Look who's up.." Marco – one of the men that captured him – said while slicing a piece of apple with his pocket knife. He sat on the grass, leaning on the car behind him. Just looking at the fruit made Ben's mouth water. "..did a princess sleep well?"
Ben didn't answer that question, still dizzy from that hit in the head. Headache was killing him, he felt the pain especially around his eyes. Looking around himself, he couldn't recognize the location. They were in the shade under the highway, in a clearing between two cars. Out of three men that captured him, only one was here. Ben grunted as he tried to adjust himself to a more comfortable position, trying to scooch and lean against the concrete pillar in a manner that would reduce the pain in his back.
"You know.." Marco continued with his mouth full. "..you bastards are tough to find. We lost over half of our platoon. Dean is dead because of you, he was my friend."
Ben raised an eyebrow, trying to remember if he knew anyone by that name. It didn't ring a bell.
"You and your friend, you killed him at the school." Marco explained, giving Ben a look full of hate. "You fucking trespassers."
He stood up and approached Ben, looking at him from above. Ben returned the look. For a while, their eyes were locked on each other. Out of blue, smug expression on Marco's face faded away, replaced with the face red of anger. Without a second of delay, he kicked Ben in the ribs. He stopped after fifth the kick, leaving Ben rolling on the ground in pain, attempting to catch his breath. Looking up, Ben gave him a spiteful look right in the eyes which seemed to provoke him even further. Marco grabbed Ben by his hair and punched him right below the eye.
"Marco!" Manny appeared out of nowhere, pushing Marco aside. "Calm yourself, idiota."
Surprised, Marco looked away and walked off, complaining silently along the way. Ben felt the dull pain in his cheek, when he noticed that Manny turned to him.
"We're almost at the FOB." man bun explained, "Marco is uh, a bit rough. But he's loyal, and a good soldier."
Ben clenched his teeth and spat. "Untie me. I'll show your man what's rough."
Manny laughed and crouched in front of him. "You got fire in you. Where are you from?"
"Not from Seattle."
"Jackson, Wyoming?"
Manny took him by surprise. Ben feared his face revealed the shock he heard the man mentioning Jackson. "What's that got to do with you?"
"To be honest with you, I was on a business trip back there a while ago.." Manny answered slowly, all while looking at Ben straight in the eyes. There was something about his smug face Ben hated. What a punchable face. "..some people over there weren't happy how the business was conducted."
A business trip?
Anger was boiling inside him. Killing Joel а was business to him. Ben was certain now. This man belonged to the group that killed Joel. Are you the who killed him? Prior to this, Ben didn't know who the killers were, since he had not spoken to Ellie about it. Perhaps she was looking for Manny specifically?Yet, even Manny can't be certain that Ben came from Jackson. That was just a wild guess. Unless he caught Ellie or someone else. The thought of that alone infuriated him.
"What about the girl?" Ben couldn't hide his surprise when Manny asked, his face revealed everything. Manny laughed. "So you are from Jackson. See Marco? All you have to do is experiment a little. It might not work every time, but you never know."
"What girl?"
Manny turned his attention back to Ben and got in his face, smirking. "The one that we left alive, with scar across her eyebrow. A fiery one, she's here too?"
Ben's answer was an angry stare. Smirk from Manny's face faded away and he swung his hand, slapping Ben across his face so hard he got knocked on the ground. "You killed our friends, pendejo. I will find the rest of you." he finished and walked away.
He could taste the iron in his mouth after having his bottom lip cracked, releasing a thin rill of blood that flowed down his beard. Ben didn't notice his third captor who appeared from behind the pillar.
"Two Scars.. encamped in that building over there." soldier explained, then lowered his voice, almost whispering. "What about this one? Are you going to kill him?"
"No." Manny replied. "Isaac ordered that all trespassers should be killed. I need this one alive, though."
"But those are direct orders..?"
"I'll handle Isaac. He trusts me."
They didn't talk much after that. Ben felt the warm blood on his lip, licking it. He wanted to hate these men. Given the chance, he'd probably kill all three of them. But one part of him wished he could avoid all of that. For a while, he had been thinking about the men they killed in school. The woman Ben slaughtered like an animal when he slashed her throat. That soldier on the roof who was afraid to die, he seemed like a decent man. Maybe he had family, he thought overwhelmed by guilt. Am I the bad guy in their eyes? Do I deserve to die? He remembered his father, who helped the poor and sick before they left St. Louis, a city where Ben was born and raised.
He didn't know what to think about the men that captured him. Maybe they're just like Ben's neighbors in Jackson? Maybe they're trying to live normal lives with their families, in peace. The more time he spent thinking about it, more guilt he felt. Marco grabbed him by his elbow and picked him up on his feet, telling him it's time to move on. Wolves (WLF members had a wolf on their patches), as Ben began calling them, didn't talk much while they walked. Ben walked in front of them, that way they could keep their eyes on him all the time. Walking without his backpack felt weird on his back, he got used to it so much he couldn't imagine being separated from it. Ben's backpack, full of supplies, ammo, and his trusty machete, decorated Marco's back instead. Ben hated that it was him that had to carry his backpack.
"..when..?" someone talked behind him. Unable to understand, he could hear only a word or two. He wasn't able to pick up much, other than the words today, explosion and killed. Apparently, one of their units was attacked. By who or where, Ben wasn't aware of. Is it you Ellie? Tommy?
An hour or two passed in a blur as Ben walked through the ruined city, escorted by the Wolf trio. He had a lot of time to reflect on his thoughts. At least it wasn't hot like the day before. Grim clouds hid the sun, threatening with rain. His stomach tightened, craving for food. That made sense, Three small bites of meat were everything he'd eaten since arriving in Seattle. First drops of rain fell on Ben's face. He stuck his tongue out to quench his thirst, catching a dozen refreshing raindrops.
What's FOB? he wondered as they followed one of the safer routes in Seattle as Manny called it. Who are Scars?
From what he could comprehend by overhearing some conversations, WLF fought a war against another faction. Ben even heard them commenting about the certain paintings on the walls. The paintings of a certain woman that the Wolves weren't very fond of. Ben couldn't care less about their war, he had to find a way out, so he could find his friends in this mess of a city. The thing was, there wasn't any opening, any chance or anything that would prove useful in his escape. He couldn't just run away, risking ten bullets in the back. On top of that, his hands were tied behind his back, limiting his mobility. Marco was usually quieter than the other two, but when he spoke, he spoke about Ben. That man really wanted his head. Dean must've been a good friend to him. Which one was Dean? Did I kill him or Jesse? He didn't like remembering it.
They stopped at what was once a crossroad where four different streets intersected. All that remained were two streets, the rest of the crossroad was literally ripped apart, as if someone grabbed the ground and split it in two, filling it with water that flooded half of the city. They stopped at that point so Manny could relieve himself. Man bun walked inside the small library with a broken door, around the first shelf, leaving Ben with Marco and the other one. In Manny's absence, Marco used the opportunity to harass.
"If Isaac gives you to me, you'll beg for a quick death." he threatened, his voice full of hatred. "Thouth, I wouldn't mind if he gives you to Annabel. She'd fuck you up real good."
Who is Annabel?
"Leave him alone." third man said, one that only spoke to Manny. "Manny told you to keep your calm."
"I am fucking calm, James." Marco answered, ready for another fight.
James rolled his eyes. "I don't care. Settle this with Manny."
"You need to calm your ass down, Marco." said Manny angrily, crossing outside through the broken window, zipping his pants. Marco opened his mouth to say something, hesitating. Manny stared him down, and in the end, Marco remained quiet. From what Ben could see, Marco did not dare to challenge Manny's authority. He was a loud mouth, taunting and threatening Ben whenever Manny was not around. James, the third one, kept mostly to himself. He even seemed to be a decent man, but he was the enemy. Manny was the most distinctive one of the trio, and not only because of his hairstyle. The way he walked, and talked, his posture, and the way the other two looked at him. He was a true soldier and a leader. His actions spoke for him. On top of that, he was the tallest of the trio.
After Manny finished, four of them resumed their voyage, walking on the edge of the devastated street, below which a river was formed. Ben could feel the strength of the current just by looking at it. Taking a swim in it would not be something preferable.
Bang.
Ben twitched when gunshot exploded between the buildings. Turning his head, he watched as James collapsed to the ground. Small pond of dark blood formed around his head. Ben's eyes were fixated on the corpse that was lying down on its back, a hole visible on its forehead. Manny cursed in Spanish, running towards the nearest cover, Marco did the, just on the other side of the street. Realizing he was exposed in the open, and a sole target for the sniper, Ben turned himself around, looking for the nearest cover. He knew he could make it to the green dumpster on the other side of the street, and hide behind it with Marco. Sharing a cover with the man wasn't something Ben was looking forward to. Manny wasn't too far off on the other side of the street. Either way, whatever he decided to do – stay in the open or find a cover – he was a moving target of the sniper or a prisoner of the Wolves. There wasn't much use in thinking about it. The choice was obvious.
Screw it.
He turned around and jumped off the edge, above the river that formed right in the middle of the city, leaving the Wolves, the sniper, the infected and everyone else behind. Flying high above the surface, he screamed as gravity pulled him down, right into the water. He thrashed his legs, trying to keep himself on the surface of the cold water that overturned him, robbing him of the sense of orientation. Current carried him downstream, over small rocks and pieces of rubble. Water was so cold, Ben couldn't feel the cuts on his shoulders and his side. He struggled to keep his head above the watery grave that waited to swallow him whole. Unable to get hold of his breath, he was swallowing a lot of water, and when he tried to cough it out, he ended up swallowing even more. Having hands tied behind his back made everything only so much harder. His body was fighting for every last bit of air, thrashing inside an invisible prison while his breaths were terribly short.
River stretched through the ruins of the city, through the former streets and right through the buildings. Water was shallower in the buildings that were on a higher level. Steering himself – at least attempting to do so – towards the hollow buildings, Ben was seeking something solid and firm, that would allow him to push himself out of the water. He couldn't allow the current to carry him all the way to the sea. Yet his plan started off horribly wrong. First, he nearly sank himself under the rubble while trying to dive under the log on the surface that blocked his path. Then, the river stranded him directly at the wall, depriving him of air for several seconds, as if it wasn't hard to breathe already. Using his legs, he managed to push himself off the wall and get back on the current's flow.
Swimming downstream, he passed right through the building, there was a hole in the wall that he used. Inside, he didn't have much time to think and look around. Ben's time inside was shortened to seconds as the current was too strong. This was where he had to stop, his legs couldn't handle anymore. River carried him right by the thick pillar, which proved to be exactly what he needed. Calculating the timing, he put his feet next to each other, waiting until he was right next to the concrete pillar. With one, hard push against the pillar, he changed the direction he was going in. Although slightly, he changed it just enough to get to the shallower part of the flooded floor. Ben almost squeaked when he touched the bottom with his feet, using it to walk away outside, retaining his balance as best as he could not to allow the current to carry him further down the river.
He lied there on a steep concrete floor on his side, breathing heavily. Every breath was deep, he could feel the air vibrating through his lungs. His body was shaking from exhaustion which he did not experience before, and muscles were screaming. Cuts and bruises on his body were hurting him. Whole world around him was spinning. With a grunt, he got himself in a sitting position, his breath deep and cold. Gray hoodie, pants, and shoes were all thoroughly wet. He couldn't even see well because his bangs were glued well over his eyes, limiting his vision. With hands tied, he couldn't sweep the hair away.
After the initial shock ended, Ben examined the area he was in and saw that he lied on a concrete floor which actually collapsed from above. He could guess that this was a garage once in the past, judging by the pillars with the yellow strips. Looking up, he could only see the ceiling of the floor above the collapsed one and nothing else. Aware that he had to find a way to cut the rope somehow, he looked around himself, searching for a shard of glass or anything sharp enough he could use. Yet, even if he managed to cut the rope, he didn't have his equipment anymore. Marco wore his backpack, if he was still alive. A thought of losing his trusty machete annoyed him. There was no other choice though, and he had to be patient enough to start from nothing. One step at a time.
I'm in a deep shit, he thought and smiled sadly, thinking about his sister. She'd kill me if she saw me like this.
Rising back to his feet, Ben walked up the collapsed floor towards the door that led outside. He had to turn his back to the door to be able to twist the knob with his tied hands and open it. He opened the door slowly and crossed the threshold to the outside. The plan was to find a way to the upper floor, break a window, and cut himself loose with the glass. The building his eyes examined was of a rectangular shape. Nearly half of its foundation collapsed into the river, tilting the structure. The door he was looking for was about three feet above him, the stairs used to approach the door were cracked and tilted along with the rest of the building. Much to Ben's luck, he was able to climb on the cracked stairs and reach for the front door. He found himself in the building that resembled a work space, an office of a sort. Going deeper into the deep structure, he tried not to slip on the steep floor. He kicked the first glass window he saw, using the shard to cut himself loose, making a small cut on his palm which released a thin stream of blood. His wrists were burning, leaving red marks from the rope. He massaged his wrists for a bit and sat down to rest, leaning against a desk stuck between two walls. For a first time since he came to Seattle, he had no idea what to do, being completely lost. This gave him some time to reflect on his thoughts and memories. Ever since leaving Jackson, Ben didn't think twice about Emily. Now he wondered where she was, what was she up to. He never thought he'd miss his older sister. What are Jesse and Khan up to? Ellie, Dina, and Tommy? Did Jesse find them? Are they dead?
Clouds truly went all out on the world that day, it was raining showers. All Ben could hear wasthe sound of rain and a river in the distance. For some reason, he kept thinking about Ellie, remembering Jesse's question, what he would say to her when they find her. The last time he spoke to her was after that party in church. It was a short conversation, yet the longest they had in a long time. Then he recalled how he escaped the Wolves, almost drowning in the process. Whoever that sniper was, Ben was grateful to him. The man most likely saved his life.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Ben realized he almost fell asleep. Headache was getting worse, and his body cried in pain. There was one upside to the pain, though. It hurt enough to keep him awake. Understanding he had no time to waste, Ben stood up and took a quick stroll through the office block, searching for anything he could use as a weapon or a mean of defense. A wooden baseball bat was all he could find. It seemed sturdy enough to last him for a while. Rain did not relent when he walked outside, entering one house after another in the residential area he found himself in. Most of the houses were thoroughly looted. Ben couldn't tell how many hours of daylight he got left. Gray, fat clouds were blocking the sun which left no traces. As if the luck turned against him, Ben came across the street infested with the infected, with only a baseball bat in his hand. No clickers though, only runners. If he played it smart, he could take out most of them without getting noticed. Runners were even polite enough to create a distance between each other, making for a perfect opportunity to sneak up on them.
Yet Ben found it difficult to do it. After strangling the first runner – using the baseball bat by grabbing it by its ends and pressing it against runner's neck as hard as he could – he had to take a breather. He suffered realization that the school fight, sewers, captivity and, ultimately, the a dip in the river all took a toll on his body. His wrists were still burning from the rope that cut deep into his skin, tearing it apart. Several bruises were aching all throughout his body. Right shoulder specifically hurt the most, followed by cuts he suffered in the river. Some of them were even still bleeding, leaving thin, reddish stains on his grey hoodie, decorated with holes in several places, most notably around the sleeves. Convincing himself he had to go on, Ben approached another runner, hunched over towards the wall, moaning silently. When Ben attempted to take it in a headlock, he felt the strength of his arms betraying him, and the runner broke free, screaming right in Ben's face.
Cursing to himself, Ben smashed the baseball bat against runner's head, knocking it on the ground in one try, unsure if he killed it. A quick look sideways was enough to realize that the others were coming at him. Infected screamed like mad men, their voices twisted and deep, their nails sharp. Even a scratch was enough to turn him in the one of them. He could count three runners, who by themselves, didn't pose a problem. Yet, now they did. Unable to handle one runner, come alone three, Ben was forced to run. Entering the nearest house, he ran across the living room towards the nearest door, through it, closed it and tried to hold them off, pushing the door with his back, feeling the force of their kicks against the door. When he saw the first splinters on the floor below him, he abandoned the door, sprinting through the tight corridor, upstairs, and into the bathroom, managing to lock himself in before the runners realized where he was. Barely able to keep standing, he allowed himself to sit down on the floor, examining white paved bathroom. Bathroom wasn't spacious. Shower, toilet and the sink barely fit inside, leaving just a little space on the floor. The sink, above which a broken window let the light through, was on the opposite side of the door. Rain damped the white stool of the wooden window. Tiles were worn out by time, cracked and old. Ben heard runners behind the door, moaning, crying while searching for him. Long time ago, his father told him that runners were still humans who were still losing control of their bodies. The virus was erasing their minds, and they struggled with it. Ben witnessed it firsthand when he was very young, long before ever coming to Jackson. He was out in the woods playing when he came upon a runner. Unable to escape, runner caught up and pinned him to the ground. Ben remembered its face, a normal looking face of a man who'd probably be in his late twenties today. Blood was pouring from its nose and mouth. Runner held Ben pinned down on the ground, ready to take a big bite of his meat. It didn't. Bloody tears rolled down its cheeks. It couldn't speak, it tried to communicate with Ben, to say something, but its mouth was just opening and closing, letting out silent moans and something indistinguishable. Then it let Ben go, running off in the distance. Ever since that encounter, Ben looked at life in a whole different perspective. Life was something precious, a gift to every human. And what did the humans do? They killed each other, wasted that precious gift, and ruined it for millions of others.
Footsteps quieted down after a while. Runners didn't discover him, much to his relief. Using the baseball bat to get up, Ben slowly opened the door and peered through it. Short hallway led in three different rooms, bathroom included. Orange wallpapers were torn and sprayed with dried, black blood. A runner stood by the wall, scratching wallpapers with its nails, the sound of creaking making Ben shiver. Gripping his trusty baseball bat, now bloodied on top, Ben decided to try, even though he felt even weaker, knowing there were no other options. Runner didn't resist for long, dying a quick death. Ben held its corpse and lowered it on the floor, afraid that the thud of a falling body would alert others if they were still in the house. They were. He checked the rooms on the second floor real quick – making sure those were clear – before heading downstairs. Each step he made, he made carefully. He was shivering from cold and his clothes were still wet. Heart was beating faster, his body was screaming of exhaustion, and he had to find a way out of the house packed with runners armed with only a baseball bat and his brain. Two runners stood by the front door as if they guarded it. Third one was creaking in the kitchen that was visible from the bottom of the stairs. His ears picked up the noise from fourth and fifth runner, staggering, flinching as they looked around, their heads peeking through the door frames occasionally. More than once, Ben wondered what was going on in their heads. What did they think about? Were they thinking about anything at all?
In two long steps on his toes, Ben crossed quite a distance, leaving his cover on the stairs towards the lone runner in the kitchen. He scored, there was a window that led outside. Only problem was the runner that turned around right in the moment Ben leaned over the edge to look around, noticing him. It didn't hesitate to attack, charging at Ben with its arms raised, ready to tear him apart, only to get itself received with a wide swing of the baseball bat that broke half of its teeth, knocking it on the floor. With no hesitation, Ben climbed on the kitchen counter, bending down to pass through the window before other runners could follow. Jumping out of the window into the alley, Ben followed it, sprinting as fast and as long as his legs could carry him. His legs felt too heavy, and he was unable to outrun the infected, three of whom chased after him. Knowing he couldn't escape them, Ben stopped and turned around, willing to fight for his life. Gripping the handle of the wooden bat tightly, he swung the weapon at the first runner he could reach, feeling the skull caving in from a well-landed swing. Barely having enough time to recover, he ducked, avoiding a second runner successfully only to be greeted by the third one that jumped at him, knocking him down on the ground. Ben was able to push him away with his feet, but only for so long. The runner still had him pinned down, while the other one screamed from above, dying to feast on his flesh.
Not here – I can't die here!
He tried to push the runner away using his baseball bat. Arm muscles were burning from pain and fatigue, he couldn't hold much longer. One second away from backing down, Ben's ears were filled with the sound of a tearing flesh and screams of infected. A sound of teeth tearing the flesh apart from its body, yet he felt no pain. Where is the second runner?
A mass of fur jumped at the runner above him, freeing Ben from its grasp. Before he realized what happened, runner was dead, and Ben noticed a set of blue, piercing eyes looking at him. White snout was painted dark red. Snow white, long and sharp fangs were experienced in tearing meat. Ben couldn't believe his eyes when Khan licked his hand.
"Where did you come from..?" asked Ben, rising up, unable to believe his own eyes, still shocked to see his best friend by his side. He didn't hesitate one second, before embracing his wolf into a tight hug. "Holy shit, your timing couldn't be more perfect."
Examining the wolf, Ben noticed several red stains on his white fur. Khan suffered several injuries although none seemed lethal or too dangerous. Wolf gave him a happy look, sticking his tongue out. He looked like he was smiling.
"I'm happy to see you too, bud. If you're here, than.."
Ben looked around himself and stood up, searching for Jesse. There were no signs of his Asian friend. Not one sign. Is he dead?, he pushed back the thought and looked around.
Noticing three runner corpses, Ben widened his eyes, shocked to see their mutilated heads. He almost forgot how ferocious Khan was against them. "You didn't hold back at all, huh?" he said, bending down to stroke the wolf's head, delighted to have him by his side "Let's go, bud. We don't have time to waste." Quiet as he was, Khan just gave him a look with his deep blue eyes. He rarely barked, howling even more rarely. It felt good to see his companion again. After a streak of unfortunate events, Ben felt as if his luck was reversing at last.
"You won't believe what I went through.." Ben recalled the events of the past day as two of them went through the houses, seraching for anything they could find useful. In one of the houses, he managed to find some duct tape and a few old, rusty table knives. Using a duct tape, Ben connected them to the bat, adding to its piercing abilities. He swung it around in the air, testing it, feeling the weight.
"This will make things much easier. What do you say, Khan?" asked Ben with a smile on his face, looking down at his companion who tilted his head, examining the bat in Ben's left. Reunited with his companion, and with an improved bat resting on his shoulder, Ben walked outside. His body was at its limit, rain that soaked the world didn't show any signs of easing up. Still, Ben felt more determined than ever. After exchanging gazes with the wolf, he looked up at the tall buildings in the distance whose tops were covered in the mist, making up his mind on where to go next. Seattle has been testing him long enough. Knowing what to expect, he walked forward. Only forward.
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