Claire Marie stumbled up to the barricaded entrance of the Comfort Inn and Suites. They had blocked the main entrance with a semicircle of cars and filled the interior of the circle with heavy furniture so the zombies couldn't attack the automated doors in large numbers. She squeezed between two dirt-encrusted sedans and wove her way through the fastest route to the doors by memory. It was nearly a hundred feet and, already exhausted from the run up the hill, Claire stumbled to her knees a dozen feet from the open doors.
Boss Richardson and six men stood behind chest-high, makeshift, wooden barricades. They were dressed in woodland camouflage hunting gear and armed with a combination of hunting rifles and shotguns. Richardson, a big man with a reddish-brown beard, pointed his rifle at her.
"Speak!" he barked into the quiet.
"Don't-" Claire's voice broke with harsh coughing, "Don't shoot!"
"Claire!" Richardson shouted and the glee in his voice made Claire sick.
Richardson leapt over the barricade and rushed to Claire's side. He roughly hauled her to her feet and began pawing at her to check for bites. She struggled to catch her breath and then struggled out of his clutches when his hands started to stray. Richardson's eyes narrowed and he took a menacing step forward.
"Wait," Claire took a flinching step away, "Strangers saved me!"
Richardson's dark blue eyes narrowed, "The army? We didn't hear any gunshots."
Claire shook her head, inwardly sighing with relief at having deflected his attention, "Not the army! These guys are crazy! They want to stay in the Home Depot for a few days. Their leader wants to talk to you."
"Slow down, damnit!" Richardson removed the walkie-talkie from his belt. "Bobby, peep the Home Depot. What do we got? Over."
The reply came a few moments later, "There's three or four strangers wearing weird costumes over by the plaza entrance. I can't see anyone else but a bunch of bodies layin' around. Wait, somebody's on the roof... holy shit!" There was a sound like crunching paper before Bobby started talking again. "There's a little bastard up on the roof with a sniper rifle! He was lookin' right at me!"
"Calm your ass down!" Richardson snapped, taking his hunting cap off and running his walkie hand through a balding head of graying red-brown hair. He raised the walkie again, "Get all the sharpshooters to cover the Depot. I'm takin' Rick and Jake down to see who these guys are. Over."
"I'm on it. Over."
Richardson turned to the men covering the "killing yard" as they liked to call it, "Rick, Jake, get your asses out here. We've got strangers to charm. Maybe they've got some fine ass with 'em."
Boss Richardson' flunkies trotted out through the newly opened gap in the barricade. Rick was tall and skinny while Jake was the same height but heavier. All three were cousins and shared the same coloring. Richardson slapped Claire on the ass, it hurt as bad as it sounded, and grinned at her.
"Go get some rest. I'll be needin' you tonight."
"Did Doris make it?" Jake asked with an odd gleam in his eyes. Claire shook her head and the man shrugged. "She was fat but damned good on her back."
"Cut the crap! Let's go!" Richardson barked and his men started moving.
Claire moved through the barricade and was immediately swarmed by all twenty-seven "peons", as Richardson and his "Dirty Dozen" called the women, children and one old man they had gathered together.
"Move that shit to the dining area!" Buddy, a swarthy, pig-eyed flunkie shouted.
There was a general rush across the bare lobby, around the elevators, and into a good-sized dining area. The floor was littered with garbage but no one cared anymore. They sat Claire down at the long table and began shouting questions at her.
"Shut up!" a voice cracked as the woman bellowed to be heard over the mob.
A busty brunette woman shouldered her way through the group with glares and muttered curses. She slammed a bottle of water down in front of Claire. Claire drank half the bottle before putting it back down. The woman, Daisy, fixed calm brown eyes on her.
"Now, tell us what happened, darlin'," Daisy said in a thick Virginian accent.
Once Claire started talking she couldn't stop. Sometime during her tale the bottle was emptied. No one replaced it, their supply of bottled water was getting almost as low as their food, and Claire didn't ask for another.
"And now Boss-" it was a struggle not to gag on that word, "Richardson is going down to meet the leader."
There was a moment of silence before Sally, all of twelve years old, asked, "Is she really a goddess?"
"No, darlin'," Daisy answered, "That's just a silly name."
"Hell," Old Harry grumbled, "She might think she is."
"How big was he, Claire? Big like a wrestler?" someone she couldn't see shouted.
Claire nodded, "Yeah."
Then the questions really started and Claire couldn't even respond to any single one. She found that her voice wasn't needed. People began arguing with other people's ludicrous suggestions. So Claire leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and dozed off. It seemed as though her eyes had only been closed a second before something shifted the table with a bang.
Claire sat erect as the ground went quiet.
"Glad to see we've got your attention," Richardson's voice came from the end of the table near the elevators.
Claire, and everyone else, only had eyes for the deer that Richardson and his men had thrown on the table. They hadn't had fresh meat for months, they'd eaten all the frozen stuff weeks ago, and they stared in disbelief. Richardson had said the woods were crawling with zombies and it was too dangerous to hunt.
"Well, stop staring, damnit," Richardson snapped and the nervousness in his voice made Claire raise her eyes from the freshly killed deer.
Richardson, Rick, and Jake all stood in front of the table covered in sweat. They were all red in the face but their expressions were nervous.
It looks like they're about to piss their pants.
"Lucy, Ethel, Claire, come with me. The rest of you get this thing butchered up."
The group fell on the deer carcass as though they were a school of piranha. They lifted it off the table, with more than a few moans of delight, and carried it off to the kitchen. They left behind three woman and Claire was among them, much to her disappointment.
"C'mon," Richardson said, and led them to a stairwell past the exercise room to the right of the elevator.
It was an indicator of how upset the man was that he didn't try to grope, kiss, or screw one of them before he got to the second floor. In Claire's opinion they were the most attractive women in the group. Lucy was only a couple inches shy of six feet, most of that height in a pair of shapely legs, and she had a face to die for. Ethel was only slightly shorter than Lucy, had an unreal C-cup, and eyes a dazzling shade of green. Claire was probably the least attractive of the trio. She was 5'4", slender, and had a heart-shaped face. Her best features were her hazel eyes and a killer ass, at least that's what her sleazy ex-boyfriend had always told her.
Why does he want just us? Claire thought worriedly, past events coming to mind, as they walked down a quiet hallway dimly lit by blue-white emergency lighting.
Richardson led them to a room at the end of the hall. The electronic lock had been smashed and Richardson stomped into one of his rooms. The curtains were thrown open and the window had a view of the plaza. He left the door open and Claire meekly closed it behind her as she entered last. Richardson threw his cap on the end table by the window and leaned against the frame. Claire and the others waited near the king-sized bed, none of them looking at the stained sheets, while Richardson looked out of the window.
"I need you three to go down there and get inside the Depot," Claire, Lucy, and Ethel looked at each other with wide eyes but remained silent. "I need to know how many of them there are, what kind of weapons they got, how many women, everything." Richardson turned to them with crazy eyes. "I don't care if ya have to screw every guy in there to find out. Just do whatever they say. Tell 'em I sent ya as a welcome gift. Get some outfits out of the closet. Hurry up, it's gettin' dark."
Claire glared at Richardson while the other two scampered to do his bidding.
"I'm not a whore and you're not my pimp!" she hissed at him.
"You screwed me fast enough," Richardson shot back as he took a single step closer.
"That's different," Claire mumbled, bowing her head.
"Whatever," he stepped even closer, "Listen, ya little bitch, the rule's still the same. I say suck, you get down or you get put out for the zombies. Try me and it'll be your ass getting chucked down the hill like Jay and Rachel. So... put your shit on and get your ass down to those crazy bastards down the hill."
Claire turned and began rummaging through the pile of crap in the closet. She quickly selected an outfit and the three women filed into the bathroom to change. Once they were dressed, Lucy and Ethel began applying enough makeup for a circus, while Claire glared at her image in the mirror.
You weak, stupid, fuck! Letting that bastard order you around. Bad enough you let him screw you. Damnit!
"Maybe some of them'll be nice," Lucy said, stepping back to admire herself.
"Yeah, maybe they'll know how to screw," Ethel chimed in, checking her fishnets.
We all smell like shit and haven't had showers or baths in weeks. I'm amazed anyone would have sex with us.
Lucy and Ethel were dressed in identical outfits. Red tube-tops, black miniskirts, fishnet stockings, and black high heels. Both wore too much of every kind of makeup. They were almost as bad as the t.v. characters they were named for. Claire had gone with black tights, a floral wrap, and a white, sleeveless T-shirt.
Fuck 'em, anyway.
But Boss Richardson didn't say a word as he hurried them back downstairs. Someone whistled from an upstairs window as Richardson led them to the edge of the hotel parking lot.
"Don't come back. I'll send someone for you in the morning."
Then they were alone and facing a long walk in heels.
Damnit.