Don't Play With Your Food
2: Between a Rock and a Hard Place
Zoey sat at the dining room table with her gracious hosts. A plate of some kind of meatloaf sat in front of her; but its physical appearance was not a factor. What mattered was taste and for food found in the Wasteland, it was top-notch. She dug in after virtually fasting for three days and did not stop until her dish was clean.
"Wow! You really were starving!" Jack exclaimed.
"It was a great meal, thank you." She wiped her mouth delicately and smiled at his teasing.
Then her foot nudged something beneath the table. She expected it to be someone's foot, but bent her head to investigate anyway. Her heart jumped wildly as she saw Bill's beret lying there. She let out a quick gasp, stood upright and shakily held her pistols at the four adults.
"I knew you were lying! I knew!" The fear must have shown on her face, as no one looked phased by her sudden outburst. "Just tell me where they are!"
"Whatever do you mean, Miss Zoey?" Mr. Wilson asked in a mock-concerned tone.
She used her foot to bring Bill's hat closer, then picked it up cautiously and threw it on the table for all to see. The wives let out sighs, Mr. Smith furrowed his brow; but Mr. Wilson started to smile.
"What did you do to them?" Her voice was dripping with horror.
Mr. Wilson leant forward to pick up his fork and knife. Zoey trained her pistols on him and his sudden movement.
"Well," he began, cutting off a small piece of his meatloaf. "We made them into a hot dish and you consumed it. It was a team effort, hon."
He placed the tender meat in his mouth and smirked at her.
The pigment drained from the young brunette's skin. "I don't believe you."
Wilson shrugged. "Believe what you want, it won't change your fate."
Zoey was now struggling to keep her cool. Her brain was entirely overworked. She had gone through the sorrow of losing everyone she'd ever cared about to a zombie outbreak, seen countless acts of brutality as well as performed them herself. She had found that the desensitization from watching violent movies did not carry over to real-life situations. And now, unexplicably thrown into a strange world only to have her only companions taken from her; yes, the mental breakdown had been expected.
Tears began to build up in her eyes. "Give me one good reason as to why the fuck I shouldn't kill you all right now."
Again, Wilson was the one to speak. The others were unsettlingly silent. "Well, one human is more than enough meat to last us for a while. One of your friends is still among the living; though it would have been two if the old man hadn't been such a fighter. Kill us, you'll never find him."
She was shaking now. "Let me see him!"
"A-a-ah! Drop your weapons. Don't forget that we're in control here." Wilson smirked.
She knew she was playing right into their hands by complying with them, but she figured she still had a fleeting chance to get out of this alive and with one of the three men she'd grown so close to. She lowered her guns and placed them on the dinner table.