Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.6
Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 6
Date: 5 September, 2010
Disclaimer: Hmmm, characters, not mine, situation, mine, though with the proviso that certain scenarios owe a major debt of gratitude to George Romero. Sex? Likely. Genders involved? Likely all female (at least anything on camera). Also there are likely to be very bad things in this story. I'm not one for prodigious amounts of gore, but this is horror and there is likely to be ickiness and things that might disturb some folks. Seriously. If it's gonna bother you, move along.
Summary: When the dead rise, civilization falls.
Author's Notes: Awhile back, just for fun, I did a faux movie poster that set Otalia in a horror setting and used some elements from an idea I've had running around for ages (what can I say---it was the Halloween season). Sooo, at some point, it seemed like fun to take a gander at writing them in that universe. I've quite deliberately tried to break away from my usual style and make it a bit faster moving, with frequent chapter breaks, deliberate cliffhangers, shorter scenes and more directed pov. We'll see if I can keep to one pov per chapter (well, they are short chapters...lol).
Previous Chapters: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |
Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 6
The first, unsteady flow of consciousness came in the form of a burbling sound, vaguely reminiscent of the bubbler in the exotic fish tank that had dominated the wall behind the lobby desk of the San Cristobel Palace Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. As a child, Olivia had been fascinated by the colorful fish that could be found in the bays and inlets of her island home and she'd spent a fortune bringing them to the high-end hotel and casino along with the faux sandy beaches, wave machine and native dancers meant to represent her homeland.
Olivia remembered the sound well because she'd often taken Emma down there to show her, leading her through the access passages to service area in the rear-away from the customers, so they could share a little private time. From the time they'd entered the corridor, the gentle burbling had been a constant background hum under her daughter's frequent giggles and happy chatter.
Only what she was hearing now wasn't happy chatter. It was...
All wrong.
Just like the thick tar that seemed to have wrapped itself around her body, restraining her limbs and dulling her senses.
But as she fought her way through the clinging black tendrils, she pulled a few words out of the shifting haze of sound.
A woman's voice, low and pleading, the syllables come and go. "Please...don't...I don't want...don't make me...hurt you..."
And her daughter's voice stirred through the garbling sounds. "Won't...tried to...kill...my mommy...stay...back...shoot..."
Not happy chatter at all.
"Em," she groaned as she battled the haze, barely managing to force her eyes open. She blinked, battling the darkness and blurry vision as she tipped her head back.
Emma was kneeling at her shoulder, her small body tense, hands up and together.
Shooting position.
Exactly the way Olivia had taught her.
The gun in her hands was small, compact, and held remarkably steadily. Looking more like a child's cap gun than a real weapon, the Browning .25 automatic was perfectly sized to small hands. And while more or less useless against undead enemies, it could handle the human variety, and there were enough of those in Afterworld that Olivia had been determined her child would be able to protect herself as best possible.
The problem was...
Olivia tipped her head down, squinting as she struggled to bring the deeply shadowed world into focus. A hint of movement, then she spotted her nemesis. She was little more than a shadow looming over them, a dark angel sent by the powers above to decide their fate, all swirling hair, onyx eyes, and inky clothes. Only her tool of destruction wasn't angel's wings or demon's claws, but a very mortal shotgun. It was there in her hand, a deadly silhouette that could end everything. Not pointed Emma's way-at least not yet-but positioned so she could swing it up and fire with just a little wrist movement.
In the heat of combat, the dark lady had been willing to switch sides on seeing a child in trouble, but it wasn't likely she was willing to die for that child. Particularly if self-same child was the one doing the killing.
And the shotgun would shred tiny Emma into a million bits.
No choices left.
"Em...no," Olivia groaned as she reached for toward the gun in her daughter's hand.
"No," Emma cried out, batting Olivia's hand away. "She tried to kill you. I saw it."
Olivia flicked a quick glance toward her enemy-turned-savior and possibly enemy again. She was braced on the balls of her feet-ready to move-and had rocked the shotgun another few degrees in Emma's direction. She wouldn't wait much longer.
Something crashed into the well-barred door, rattling it.
Correction: she couldn't wait much longer.
Normally, Olivia wasn't one for surrender, but this time there was literally no other route that led to anything but her daughter splattered all over the walls. "Emma," she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice sharp in a way that the girl had learned to pay attention to in the last few months. She reached again, getting her hand around Emma's hands and the gun this time. "Let me have the gun...now, baby."
"But-" Emma whimpered, resisting the pressure.
"You have to do this," Olivia bit out, fighting the hovering darkness in her desperation to save her child. A quick glance at the woman watching the scene play out confirmed that she was staying back, tracking things, but not moving...at least not yet. The question was which way she'd jump when she finally made her play. "It'll be okay. She's not gonna hurt either of us."
"But she tried," Emma insisted. "She tried to kill you."
"It was just a mixup...she didn't understand." Olivia prayed she was right and wasn't consigning them both to the sort of hell the woman in the other house had suffered. "But you need to let go of the gun...please, baby." Emma resisted, tears running down her cheeks, but finally Olivia managed to pry the pistol from small hands. Even as child-sized as the weapon was, it felt like a thousand pounds in her hand and her arm dropped, knuckles crashing into the floor with a dull thud that ended on a metallic note as the barrel of the gun struck tile.
The woman watching her tensed, rocking the shotgun all the way around into firing position, but didn't tighten that final notch on the trigger.
Olivia made a small, calming motion with her free hand and shoved the pistol to send it clattering across the floor well away and out of reach. It was the only peace offering she could make. "Please," she begged. "She's just a little girl...and I'm all she has."
The door rattled again, jostled by the dead things gathering outside.
Emma buried her face in her mother's shoulder and Olivia reached up, hooking a protective arm around her daughter. "Please," she begged again, her heart in her eyes.
The shotgun remained firmly in place, not wavering a millimeter. That was left to the woman holding it. Olivia could see the debate taking place in the eyes watching them so closely, the internal conflict reflected in dark, rusty pools of brown.
Something crashed into the door with more force than before, reminding them all that the situation was escalating with every passing second.
Dark eyes slid closed and full lips moved ever so slightly in what might have been a prayer, then suddenly the shotgun tipped up. "It's Emma, right?" the dark lady addressed the kneeling child, slinging the shotgun into a rig strapped onto her back as she moved.
Emma looked up, nodding wordlessly.
"Okay, sweetie," the woman stepped forward, reaching for a wood paneled wall as she moved. A hidden latch tripped and the wall swung, revealing another concealed doorway and a narrow staircase. "My name's Natalia and I need you to go up the stairs and through the door at the top. Close it behind you and lock it, then wait until I tell you to open it."
"But-" the girl started to argue, but Natalia cut her off, her tone firm.
"I need to help your mom, but I can't do that until you're safe." Her gaze swung to meet Olivia's, silently brokering yet another deal. Play along and Emma would be okay. Resist and she still had the shotgun.
Her gaze locked with the other woman's, Olivia nodded ever so slightly, silently acknowledging the deal offered even as she strove to meet the terms. "Em, I need you to do what she tells you," she instructed, her tone as firm as she could make it.
"But, Mom-"
"No," Olivia cut her daughter off. Reaching up, she stroked a smooth cheek with a gentle hand, her voice softening and thickening with emotion as she whispered, "Go on." She held Emma's gaze as the girl scrambled to her feet, then couldn't hold her head up anymore. Concentrating on the trudge of tiny footsteps, she relaxed faintly, body sagging in response as her daughter moved away and the soft thud of a distant door signaled her exit. She lost track of the world for a moment, then abruptly came aware again as a rush of sound and movement swirled around her, and body weight came down over her.
Suddenly she was pinned in place, a body straddling her torso, knees on her arms, a hand in her hair...
A blade at her throat.
"Now," her former savior hissed, her hot breath playing over Olivia's face, "you're going to tell me why you murdered my friend."
* * * * * *
TBC