Don't Play With Your Food
3: Great Hospitality
Wilson grinned at the young woman. He motioned to Jack who stood up and held Zoey's arms behind her back, effectively restraining her. Her heart pounded frantically. Wilson motioned again and both wives left the house. When the door shut Wilson began to speak.
"Now, normally we use any outsiders for food... but you're lucky. You happen to be beneficial to our survival in a different way." He paused to observe her expression: terrified. "As you may have noticed, we have a very small community. Sometimes we come close to being ruined by a few raiders. God forbid we ever have to deal with a threat like a gang coming from Evergreen Mills!"
She had never felt fear like this before. Zombies had been terrifying in their own way, but they were more or less mindless. With the infected you only had death to worry about, not torture.
Wilson continued. "Not only will you help us raise our numbers, you'll help to expand our gene pool."
Zoey was absolutely revolted. She struggled against Jack's grip but could not free herself. "You're sick!"
The men laughed at her.
"If I had a dollar..." Jack mused.
Suddenly she was being pushed towards the stairs. She tried her best to resist them, holding on to the railing, kicking at them, scratching; but eventually she ended up locked in a room with both of them and thrown onto a bed. She couldn't help but cry now; she felt incredibly weak.
"Please don't," she said in a barely audible voice.
All they did was laugh. Laugh. Was she a joke to them? Did her life hold no value? She figured so; but she wouldn't go down without a fight. Jack approached her first and started to unzip her jacket. With all the power she could manage, she punched him square in the jaw. It was enough to make him stumble backwards. She rolled off the bed only to have her punch returned to her by Wilson. She cried out in pain.
"Feisty," he said. "Are you going to behave now?"
She nodded listlessly and wiped blood from her under her nose.
"Good, then strip."
She hesitated, knowing it would only be worse if she resisted but was petrified. A few moments passed before Wilson spoke.
"We're gonna have to do this the hard way, are we?" He pulled a large knife from his pocket and held it to her cheek. "Wanna keep that pretty little face of yours intact?"
She reluctantly removed her jacket and undershirt, shoes and jeans. She had never felt so humiliated. Wilson pressed his knife into her cheek, drawing blood.
"Did I say stop?"
"Fuck you," she breathed.
He kicked her hard in the ribs, sending her to the ground in pain.
"You stupid bitch," Jack scoffed.
Wilson stepped on her chest, she gasped and tried to push his foot off. Moments later he did himself, pulling her up by the arm and pushing her against the wall, causing her to hit her head very hard. She felt her vision blur as well as their voices.
"You had better start cooperating because I will not hesitate in sending you to raiders once you've served your purpose. You're in paradise compared to what will happen to you in their hands!"
Zoey was completely drained; she spat at him. It earned another blow to the face, this time rendering her unconscious.
She awoke to a pain in her head that quickly spread throughout her body. Everything was sore and the taste of blood was overwhelming. Still naked. Barely managing to push herself off the floor, she shakily made her way into the nearby bathroom. Gripping the edges of the sink for support, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. A black eye, swollen lip, various cuts and bruises; a sad mess. After all that had happened, she still kept her mind in check.
You can do this. Don't give up. Whoever's left... they need you.
She pulled on her clothes and made her way to the stairway. What she saw in the foyer almost made her faint; she fell into a crouch and covered her mouth to stop from screaming. A huge creature, similar to a bear, sat atop what was once either Mr. Smith or Mr. Wilson — she couldn't tell who. It loudly tore at the corpse, making a horrifying sound as it chewed. A tapping noise came from the bedrooms behind her.
A young boy no older than ten was trying to get her attention. Cautiously she made her way over to him.
"What is it?" Zoey asked in a hushed voice.
"Yao Guai... I-I-I think it got m-my dad," he began to choke up.
The beast was climbing the stairs now, it had heard them. Zoey quickly shut the door as quietly as possible. The boy clung to her in a tight hug.
"Please don't let it get me!" He whimpered.
It was odd, comforting the son of a man who had caused her so much pain. She wanted to break down just as he did, but she knew she had to defend herself and the kid.
"I won't, I promise," she eyed a baseball bat laying against the opposite wall.
As she went to grab it, the Yao Guai slammed against the door, breaking through with ease and knocking the boy down. Without a second thought, she brought the bat down hard on its head, resulting in a loud crack. Drool seeped from its blood stained mouth, it looked dazed. Not wasting the chance, she swung the bat repeatedly with a rush of adrenaline, not stopping until it lay motionless. The bat fell from her hands and she held her sides, trying to stop herself from shaking.