Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own The Walking Dead or anything affiliated with said series.
The first two days of their trip was rather uneventful, a couple more sightings of walkers and a run in with some local wildlife being the worst of it, and Chelsea was beginning to think that maybe this recruiting gig wasn't such a bad job to be stuck with after all.
And then they stumbled upon some survivors.
It all started when Daryl spotted a young woman picking apples in a field on the side of the road. Usually, as Aaron had explained many times during their journey, they'd find survivors and follow them at a distance to 'get a feel for them' before making contact, but the woman had spotted the car as they drove by and any chance of going in unnoticed went right out the window.
So they'd pulled off the road a few minutes later and had just begun discussing what to do when a group of ten or so armed men came rushing towards them from the tree line nearby.
Aaron had immediately kicked the car into gear and peeled out, trying to get as far from the approaching danger as possible, and managed to ram the car straight into the back of an old tractor-trailer that had obviously been placed across the road to prevent any unauthorized vehicles from passing without permission.
The shock of the impact had the three occupants inside the car tossed forward like ragdolls and even with the restraints none of them were conscious for more than a few seconds after the crash.
ooooo
Chelsea's head was pounding and her chest hurt like hell when she woke up sometime later. With the pain at the forefront of her mind it took her a few moments to remember what had happened, but when it came back to her her eyes shot open and she jerked her head about in search of the rest of her group.
Breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted both Aaron and Daryl laid out on cots on the other side of the room she slowly forced herself to sit up and took several deep breaths to calm down so she could assess the situation.
She was just pushing herself to her feet to check on the guys when the door across from her was thrown open and four men came strolling inside, two of them with guns aimed in her direction, and she sank back down onto the cot without a word.
"Well would ya look at that," the man in front said with a grin that looked positively evil. "The sweet little thing is wide awake and anxious to play."
Chelsea wasn't sure which made her skin crawl more, the way he'd purred that final word or how his eyes never seemed to leave the vicinity of her chest. The fact that he looked like some old biker thug with his graying hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in jeans, a tight muscle shirt and a leather vest didn't make her feel any more at ease. Neither did the fact that the other three men were not only dressed in a similar fashion, but also seemed to be having an incredibly hard time removing their eyes from her breasts. Needless to say she wasn't getting a warm fuzzy feeling from them.
"Can I have first go at her boss?" the young blonde haired man closest to the door asked and Chelsea swore she saw drool at the corner of his mouth. "I ain't had nothing fresh since I got here."
The dark haired man next to him shook his head. "You know the rules Drake," he admonished, sounding disturbingly like a parent speaking to an unruly child. "The new girls always go to the winner of the arena first. No exceptions."
"Except birthdays and Christmas, right Carlos," the third man cut in, nudging the younger man with a wink.
Chelsea swore she heard a muttered "Damn gladiator bullshit," coming from the youngest of the group but the leader chose that moment to step forward and her attention quickly shifted to him.
"It's a shame really," the man in front of her said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "I'd love to take you back to my place and spend a few days . . . getting to know you, but as the man said, rules are rules." When he reached a hand out to run a finger down the side of her face Chelsea leaned back and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Don't touch me," she spat. "Or next time I'll take that disgusting finger of yours."
Chelsea wasn't sure which of the other men it was but soon after issuing her threat one of them spoke up."I don't know boss, you sure you want to hand her over to just anyone? This one looks like a handful."
"Anyone who can survive the arena can handle a mouthy bitch like her no problem," came the older man's immediate response and apparently that was good enough for them because they let the subject drop.
As they moved in to circle her Chelsea kicked out her legs and managed to catch the youngest one, Drake she thought he'd been called, in the thigh and he backed off with a grunt. She aimed a punch at the boss' face and a knee at the dark haired one's stomach but neither hit connected.
Since she had nowhere to go and attacking wasn't getting her anywhere she decided to try for a feint. Unfortunately for her the moment she stopped struggling the butt of a gun came crashing down on the side of her head and the world around her faded into darkness.
ooooo
There was no way of telling how much time had passed when Chelsea finally came back to consciousness and she really could care less anyway. The only thing that mattered was figuring out what in the hell had happened to Daryl and Aaron. Her memory was a bit fuzzy but she was certain they'd been in the room with her when she'd woken up the first time, although whether they'd been dead or alive there really was no way of knowing for certain.
A quick glance showed that she was currently tied to a chair in what appeared to be a lookout of sorts and she started shifting her body around in hopes of loosening her bonds while her eyes scanned the rest of the area.
The large open pit in front of her could only be the 'arena' they'd mentioned earlier and as she caught sight of the chairs and benches lining the edges of it the feeling of disgust she'd gotten from them earlier skyrocketed. These people obviously enjoyed whatever it was that took place down there.
As people slowly began to trickle out of the nearby warehouses and take their places around the pit Chelsea allowed herself to really look at what was inside the thing.
She regretted the decision immediately.
Everything inside the pit, from the walls to the floor to the random piles of rocks strewn about the place, had splashes of red. In another time and place she would've assumed it paint to give the place a more 'dangerous' feel, but as there were several body parts littering the area as well there was nothing else it could've been but blood.
Lots and lots of blood.
And guts.
. . . and if she wasn't mistaken there was even some brain matter thrown in for good measure.
Now that she'd had a good look at the pit the smell hit her like a ton of bricks and she barely managed to keep herself from throwing up. Not that the sight of it wasn't enough to make her want to hurl, but the smell reminded her of a farm she'd stumbled upon a few months after she'd left home and she had no desire to ever remember the carnage she'd seen there.
While she was trying to get her body back under control the rest of the spectators seemed to have finished arriving, along with their apparent leader and all around creep, Boss.
"Comfortable?" he asked as he plopped down into the seat next to her and kicked his feet up onto the railing in front of him. When he didn't receive an answer he held out his arms and smirked. "If not you can always come and sit here in my lap. I promise I won't bite unless you're . . . naughty."
Chelsea was tempted to spit in his face but decided that probably wasn't the best idea if she wanted him to keep his distance, so instead she settled on ignoring him and focused on the crowd instead.
What she saw made her see red.
All of the chairs were occupied by men of varying size and age, but the one thing they all had in common . . . there was at least one woman, chained and dressed in little more than a sheet, kneeling by their side with their heads bowed low.
Doing a quick count she saw that there were nearly thirty women in total, the youngest looking not a day older than sixteen, and she vowed right then and there that not a single one of those men would live to see the next sunrise.
Laughing out loud at her willful behavior the man next to her whistled sharply a few seconds later and the conversations around the arena slowly died off as just over twenty pairs of eyes turned their attention towards him. "Men, as you can see we got ourselves another beauty today," a loud cheer rose up at that announcement and he grinned before continuing. "So as per our rules we're having another open match in the arena!"
The crowd went wild, well, the men at least, and Chelsea shrank back slightly at the sheer intensity of them. It was as if they lived and breathed for this.
"Now normally we'd get this thing started with a zombie brawl," more cheering accompanied this and he continued, his voice booming out over the spectators, "but this time I've got a little something special for you. The first round will be against the two men that this one was traveling with. They look like decent enough fighters so whoever survives against them will move on to the blood match!"
If possible it got even louder and Chelsea wished she was able to cover her ears so she could block out some of the terrible noise. And then she actually processed what he'd said and she sat up as much as the ropes would allow, her eyes desperately searching for the two familiar heads in the deathtrap below.
"So, how many of you wish to try your hand in the Arena today?"
Several shouts ranging from "Me!" to "That bitch is mine!" rang out but Chelsea couldn't be bothered to see who the contestants were. Ignoring the noise around her she released the breath she'd been holding when she finally spotted Aaron as he was being led down a ramp into the arena. Daryl followed soon after and her struggles intensified when she saw the blood dripping down the side of his head.
"You bastard!" she hissed, jerking her body to the left in an attempt to launch herself at the man next to her. It didn't work, but the way he shifted ever so slightly away from her had her smirking despite the pain the sudden movement had caused her.
With a subtle clearing of his throat the man continued on as though nothing had happened. "You know the rules, first five to make it into the arena get to fight." As he finished he raised his hand into the air and watched as over a dozen men stood up and waited with bated breath.
"And . . . Go!"
The second his hand dropped everyone standing took off towards the 'door' that led to the arena, kicking and shoving their way to the front of the pack.
Chelsea caught Daryl's eye moments before men started pouring into the pit and she knew her own eyes were wide with terror. Five against two wasn't bad odds in a normal situation and had they not been handicapped she wouldn't have been worried in the slightest, but their hands were tied behind their backs and they'd been boxed into a corner while the ones joining them were each wielding some kind of blade.
Torn between wanting to make sure they were both still alive and needing to get a better look at their opponents, she found herself flicking her eyes back and forth from where Aaron and Daryl were discussing something in hushed tones to the men stalking through the arena like seasoned hunters.
She watched as her two companions nodded to each other and had less than a second to wonder what decision they'd come to when they both ran to the opening at the opposite end of the corner they'd been shoved into, Daryl going right and Aaron left mere moments before the first of their attackers came racing around a nearby pile of rocks.
Clenching her hands so tightly around the arms of the chair she was certain to have wood imbedded in her fingers later, Chelsea whipped her head back and forth as she tried to keep track of both of them.
When Daryl turned a corner only to nearly run right smack into a balding man with tattoos covering his head she found herself frozen in place, unable to so much as breath as he skillfully dodged the knife aimed at his chest and managed to not only slide around the other man but also deliver a fairly decent kick to his leg in the process.
Sucking in some much needed oxygen Chelsea searched out Aaron and was pleased to see he'd somehow managed to avoid the remaining four men by ducking in and around several boulders and partial corpses. She'd begun to think he was safe for the moment when suddenly one of the men jumped out of seemingly nowhere and sliced at his arm leaving a sliver of blood in his wake.
Aaron's response was to ram the other man into a pile of rocks with his shoulder and even though there was no possible way with all the screaming going on around her Chelsea was certain she'd head a sickening crunch when the man's head collided with the jagged edge of a particularly large rock.
She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting from the crowd when the other man's body sank to the ground, but excited cheers were definitely not it. Even the man next to her seemed to find his henchman's death amusing, something which made her hate the man even more than she already did.
Resuming her attempts at freedom she kept her eyes trained on her companions' movement below and a few seconds later was rewarded with Daryl kicking the legs out from underneath the man that had been tailing him and then stomping on him multiple times for good measure.
Relieved that he was safe for the moment she turned back in Aaron's direction and saw that not only had he used the dead man's blade to free himself but now that he was armed he was going on the offensive.
Since Aaron was more or less on equal footing now Chelsea turned her gaze back towards Daryl and wasn't the least bit surprised to see that he was also free and armed. Unfortunately he'd also taken the time to search his downed attacker and didn't seem to notice the man looking down at him from the top of the low wall next to him.
As the man pulled a sword out and held it high over his head, no doubt intending to jump down and impale Daryl with it, Chelsea did the only thing she could think of to get his attention.
She screamed.