Chapter Warning- Descriptions of physical abuse, and trauma. (If you would rather skip over those kinds of themes, skip/ wait for chapter 16.)
-Rhys's POV-
Day One- Night.
"Rhys, this is Ivan," Madeleine introduces me as she pats a broad shoulder belonging to a man sitting beside a low burning campfire. Ivan has a piece of stitched fabric on his lap, and a pair of knitting needles in his hands as he works, feeding a ball of yarn into whatever he's making.
The man doesn't look up or nod. He acts as if he wasn't mentioned.
"Don't be such a square, Ivan!" Madeleine chuckles, "Get your ass up and say hello."
The man puts down the textiles and needles, climbing to his feet from the small camping chair he's sitting on. I step back a little, only for Madeleine to grab my arm roughly, clearly expecting my reaction. As Ivan stands, he grows taller than I anticipate him to, towering over both Madeleine and me when he finishes standing, he looks down at me, reaching at least seven feet against the cloudy sky. He wears a dark blue pea-coat over a green shirt, rips in the coat hidden by stitched patches of spotty fabric. His head is bald with tattoos of thing I don't recognise littering the top of it. He has a pair of dirty black boots on his feet with his cargo trousers tucked into them. He grants me a small nod.
"Thank you, Ivan," Madeleine sighs in amusement, "This is Rhys. He is gonna be ridding with you until we get back home." She hands him my Berretta.
Ivan looks slightly higher to make eye contact with Madeleine, still craning his neck down to see either of us. He nods again. I start to wonder if he can speak.
"Fantastic," Madeleine claps her hands together, "How about you boys turn in for the night? I'm hoping for a productive day tomorrow."
Still, without any words, Ivan grabs my arm and leads me in the direction of a dirty looking jeep, Madeleine waving us off.
Ivan pushes me into the backseat, before climbing into the driver's seat himself, leaning back and breathing out deeply.
I sit in the car for a few minutes unmoving, my face stinging. I finally see him watching me in the rear-view mirror. We stare at each other for a moment, him curious, while I sit petrified by fear.
He finally opens his mouth to speak. "Sleep," he grumbles, his voice deep and fitting.
I sit back, trying to heed Ivan's advise.
The sky sits so full of clouds that I find it hard to tell how much time passes by.
Screaming jolts me from the backseat, where I was lying awake, listening to low conversation. The scream sends the camp into life. Through the dark window, I can see torchlight cutting past the shadows, heading towards the commotion. I move to look out the rear window, seeing faceless people rushing past the car, blackness keeping their features hidden under the moonless night.
The whole car moves when the man sleeping in the front seat shifts his weight, waking up to the commotion outside, just as the screams stop.
"Stay here," he commands, climbing from the car and drawing my gun from his pocket, closing the door with a slam and disappearing towards the disturbance.
Shouting starts up, angry shouting. Arguments and insults are thrown through the air. Until a gunshot rings out, leaving everything quiet.
I sit and wait. I know if I run, Carl might die. I tell myself that I have to endure this.
Day Two- Morning.
The morning is cold, sleep not being something I managed last night. Ivan hadn't come back. I just wait for something to happen, for someone to come.
As if on cue the door opens roughly, Ivan dragging me from the car by my hair, pulling me to a stand outside, my legs wobbling. He keeps pulling me, eyes from all over the camp are watching, anger in their stares.
We reach a quiet part of the camp, still in sight of a few others, but away from the masses. Ivan throws me to the dirt, the release of my hair is a relief, until he brings his heavy black boot into my gut, knocking the morning air from my lungs and making me throw up trail mix on the ground.
I notice scratches on his face as he keeps up his assault on me. After a few minutes, I give up begging for him to stop, knowing it won't bring anything but more pain. It's worse then what Madeleine did last night since he doesn't ask any questions. He doesn't give me a chance to stop it.
Day Two- Noon.
I'm sitting in the RV silently, doctor Marco attending to my cuts and bruises. Ivan had finally stopped his beating when I coughed up blood, leaving me in the dirt for some else to find.
"I'm sorry it has gone this far," Marco tells me after a silent break.
I feel my eyes welling up for the first time today, kind words seem harder to accept after what just happened.
"I am aware that anything I say will be of little comfort, but-"
"Where is he?" I rasp, terrified of speaking, but hedging my bets that the doctor won't strike me for doing so. I add on a quiet "sir," at the end when my fear gets the better of me.
Marco just looks at me, as if deciding whether to tell me. "Your friend escaped last night," he finally says. "He killed a guard and got away. Ivan chased him through the woods all night. He's gone out looking again today."
The doctor can clearly see the worried look on my face, just visible past my swollen features.
"If you're worried about that gunshot, it wasn't Carl. Madeleine executed one of the guards last night. The one that for some reason, fell ill and wasn't guarding the wall that Carl escaped over."
The RV door creaks open as Madeleine steps in, motioning for me to follow her, I do so gladly. Happy to leave the RV after yesterday.
"Ivan's gone out looking for Carl," Madeleine tells me what I already know once we reach a pickup truck, the one she sleeps inside. "Since he made his daring escape last night."
I stare at my feet, scared to look anywhere else.
"You should know, Ivan can be real' harsh, but he doesn't enjoy it. Folks were calling for your head last night after what Carl did to Gary. If I hadn't of let Ivan go overboard on you. They'd still want blood. Hell, we lost two people since I had to cap dear ol' Jamie for letting Carl slip past on his watch."
Day Two- Night.
Ivan had arrived back just before people started eating their dinner. He told me to get him something. After grabbing his food, I got too close to the wall on my way back to him. Ivan was relentless in his punishment. My vision went white after a few hits. Even then, he didn't stop, only relenting when Marco came out of the RV screaming at him to let up.
Now in the back of Ivan's car again, I think back on it with the taste of blood still fresh in my mouth. The saddest part is that I wasn't trying to escape when I got close to the border. I've accepted where I am, that escaping would just end in more punishment.
Ivan is fast asleep in front of me again, my gun sticking from his coat pocket, rising and falling as he breathes.
I don't reach for the gun. I don't even consider it, knowing that I deserve to be here... I told Madeleine everything. I told her about the prison, everyone, the rendezvous spot. I had betrayed the group in that RV.
Day Three- Morning.
My body still hurts.
I suddenly hear Ivan awaken, with a fit of coughs, swearing to himself as he touches his face. He looks at me in the rearview mirror for a moment, as if deciding something.
"Out," he grumbles, opening his door.
I don't question him, opening my door and stepping into the morning chill. My sleeveless jacket not cutting it.
"Get me something to eat," Ivan tells me, climbing out of the car, causing it to creak and shift.
I fetch him a bowl of fresh stew being boiled over the late morning campfire, rushing it back to him, and he nods, seeming genuinely grateful.
I watch as Ivan eats. My stomach, twisting and turning with desire, most of its contents being left in that far corner of the camp.
Ivan finishes his breakfast. While I try not to think, worried it will get me in trouble.
"C-can I have some please, Sir?" I ask, my voice acting without my permission as it cracks, barely a whisper.
Ivan stops eating, eyes on me. "What did you say, kid?"
"Plea-" my words are cut short by a fist to my stomach. I yelp, doubling over in agony. I start to cry again, gasping as the hit winds me, hating myself for it speaking.
"Ungrateful little shit," Ivan sighs, climbing to his feet. Dropping his bowl by my head before he leaves. "Stop crying and go see Madeleine when you're done."
Once he's gone, I drink the last of the broth, scrapping onions from the bottom of the bowl into my bloody lips with dirty nails. I realise how hungry I am since they haven't fed me, my gut feels like it's trying to eat itself by this point.
I return the bowl before hobbling towards Madeleine's truck, which is now parked alongside the RV. I notice the burnt corpse of Jamie outside the camp's border, smoke still parting from his seared flesh, reminding me of memories I don't want right now.
Madeleine is sat on the hood of her deep green pickup truck, legs crossed, and humming a tune while she studies over a map. I wait to be noticed, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
"Rhys!" she sings to me in an exaggerated voice. "How'd you sleep?"
I nod, eyes on my trainers.
She doesn't seem to care. "Good news! We ain't going to that prison anymore!"
I look up at her, confused.
"We're gonna go find Carl because I am just so damn worried about him," her facial expression mocking me, "I mean, we will have to kill him when we find him, but right now, I am so worried."
I try not to react, finding it easier than I should.
"Ivan looked real' hard for him yesterday! Even managed to track him to some railroad." She looks me in the eyes, "I'm sure you're pretty glad he didn't find you're boyfriend, though."
I'm trying so hard, but my eyes betray me, letting tears flood past them and down my cheeks, stinging my cuts.
"Jesus, boy!" She hops off the truck hood. "You really need to learn to take a joke." She leans in close, "I'm sorry okay, I know it's been hard for you." She smiles, "Ivan can get carried away."
I hold my breath.
"You gonna stop crying?"
I swallow my emotions, knowing the alternative, "Yes, Ma'am."
"Well, that's just dandy!" She pats my shoulder.
I get the choice to ride with Ivan in his jeep, Madeleine in her truck, or Dr Marco in the RV. The thought of the RV makes me want to be sick, despite the lack of contents my bruised stomach has to offer the ground. So I choose Ivan since he talks less than Madeleine.
Ivan has moved his things into the car, meaning I have to sit in the front beside him. I look over my shoulder at all the bits and pieces for knitting, needles and wool carefully placed across the backseats, a half-finished project sits where I had been sleeping, Ivan can see me trying to work out what it's going to be.
"It's a sweater," Ivan grumbles, "Nights are getting colder."
The drive is long, and Ivan's music taste is loud. Angry and loud. One song I like, but the lyrics make me sad.
The man sings about being tied to machines.
I think about Carl. Hoping we never find him, that I never see him again.
He sings about darkness.
I think of Ivan beside me, and the RV, driving behind us.
He sings, that now the world is gone.
I think about myself, the prison.
Then he steps on a landmine.
He's singing about Madeleine.
Day Three- Noon.
We arrive in a town, buildings constructed from exposed brickwork sit empty of life. A church looms over them, watching for sin and trespass. I realise I'll get as much help from God as the sad man in the song.
The Cars park on the road, setting up another defensive wall in minutes.
Madeleine found this place on the map. It's the first town that the tracks run through. The most plausible place Carl would have stopped. She tells us that we need to search the entire town, that we need to find him.
Madeleine calls Ivan and me over with a gloved hand.
"You and Ivan are gonna search over there," she points to a three-storey apartment building at the end of the deteriorated road. Most of the windows are covered by cardboard, stirring gently in the afternoon breeze.
"What are you gonna do if you find him, boy?"
"Bring him to you, Ma'am," I murmur.
"And if he runs?"
"I-I don't-"
Ivan's hand slams into the back of my skull. I reel to my knees, head throbbing.
"If-he-runs?" She repeats.
"We k-kill him."
"No," she tells me, nodding to Ivan, who yanks me to my feet. I stumble, dizzy.
She hands me a small folding knife, its handle a varnished wood with a short dull blade, no longer than three inches. "You kill him."
I take the knife. I could use it before they stop me. Before they can 'save me' as Madeleine puts it. But I can't do it, just like I couldn't use the spear in the RV that night. I'm a coward.
Ivan pushes me to walk, and I do. We check buildings as we pass them, each one terrifying me. Everyone else is out of sight, checking the rest of the small town.
I drag my feet as we walk down the abandoned street, not wanting to reach the end of it, as I hold the small knife in both hands.
No sign of him yet. Not yet.
We approach the end of the short street and make to enter the apartment building with three stories. There's a sign outside which reads, 'Loft Space Available For Rent!'
We reach the door, but a group of walkers exits a neighbouring police station, spotting us and shambling closer. We back up over broken glass, Ivan pulling me by the collar into a circle of cars at the end of the street, hidden behind the apartment building. I notice an ice cream truck among them.
One of the walkers grows closer to me, inches away. I have the knife in hand, but I can't move. Just forced to watch as the walker closes in.
Ivan grabs the walker, dragging it away from me, before smashing its head in with the sliding door of a minivan. Blood splatters onto colourful luggage held to the roof of the van by loose netting.
I hobble back, as Ivan continues to crush the dead. I sit down on the ice cream truck's protruding step, defeated.
The vehicle's door is missing completely. I notice that there are already walkers on the ground, some of them missing their heads, all of them freshly wounded. A signpost that reads, 'NO PARKING,' lies beside the bodies, blood dripping from it.
Ivan takes out the cluster with ease, beating the last one to death with his Beretta 70.
The walker's head is mush on the concreate, blood running between the cracks. Ivan comes over to me, dragging me to my feet by the arm.
"You're pathetic," he barks. "You know that?"
"Yes."
He shakes his head at me.
Ivan raises his hand, and I know what comes next, so I wait for the blow to connect with my face.
Only it doesn't.
Nothing comes next.
Not from Ivan.
There's a loud bang. A flash from one of the apartment building windows, It splits through the quiet air, sending shivers up my spine.
Blood hits my face as Ivan drops to the ground, dead, a bullet hole where his eye once sat.
I stagger backwards, falling over, my hands grazing on the gravel floor. I hug myself shaking my head, burying it in my knees as I bring them to my chest.
I'm being grabbed by strange hands. I'm waiting for them to hurt me, but they just hold me tight.
I'm shaking my head as the gentle hands find my bruised face, pulling me to look up. Maggie's face is looking back down at me. She's grabbing me, pulling me by the arm. I fight back, pleading with her not to get me in trouble. Sasha appears from the apartment building door, out of breath, a stout rifle in her hands. She's grabbing Ivan's weapons from him, then she's in front of me, holding my face between her hands, her grip firm but careful.
"Rhys, we gotta go, okay," she's smiling at me.
"No-no-no." I can't breathe.
"Rhys, trust me, okay?" she's staring into my eyes, "Do you trust me?"
I nod. I keep nodding as I'm being pulled to my feet and rushed away from the town, towards the tracks. I can't stop nodding, stop running. Running and nodding as we escape the town.
A/N-
100 Brownie points to anyone that guessed Ivan's song... It was One by Metallica. Not your typical walking dead sound, but I was watching another TV show with the song and thought, 'Wow, that really encapsulates how Rhys is feeling at the moment.'
This was kind of an experimental chapter with the whole day titles thing, and the way the song played into it.
Anyways, I'm going to try and get the next chapter up this week!
Reviews and Feedback are appreciated!
:)