Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.9

[altfic]

Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 9
Date: 9 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). See the poster here: http://altfic.com/artgallery/otalia/glafterworld01b.htm . 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 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |
Author's Note: I really need to add a special thanks to Cheerful Ocean for helping beta. Should have included this sooner, because she's been great!

Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 9

Olivia instinctively braced herself to feel the rip and tear of shotgun pellets, but the sharpest thing directed her way was a snapped command.

"Stop it," the dark lady ordered, her voice hard with impatience.

For the briefest second, Olivia thought she saw an instant's softening as dark eyes touched on her abraded wrists, but then her captor's gaze hardened again and she straightened herself.

Pure wishful thinking, Olivia decided as she stared into russet eyes that were hard and expressionless.

And then she was struggling again, instinct pushing her in the irrational hope that she could somehow wrench her way free and take her captor down, then get herself and her daughter away from this place. Because while the dark lady might look like some Pre-Raphaelite angel, there were a limited number of types of people in Afterworld, and in Olivia's experience, none of them were angels.

"You're only hurting yourself," her captor sighed after a long moment of watching Olivia's unsuccessful struggles.

As if I give a damn. Olivia stilled momentarily, glaring at her captor with a look that would have shredded most people and had them begging for mercy. She twisted her wrists slowly, her own blood slicking the way and making it easier. She barely felt the pain. The only thing she gave a damn about was her daughter.

And the woman in front of her had the answers she needed.

As if reading her mind, the dark lady told her, "Emma's fine."

Olivia froze, feeling her chest compress as her heart missed a half-dozen beats. Purely on reflex, her eyes snapped shut as she fought the sudden burn of tears.

"She's safe in another room," that soft, librarian-firm, but oddly gentle voice continued, while Olivia just prayed it was true and not one final bid by the gods to drive her mad, because if it was a lie, she'd finally crack. "I got her calmed down. She's eaten, gotten some sleep, and now she's coloring quietly."

Olivia heard the soft sob that escaped in spite of her best efforts as if it came from the opposite end of a long corridor instead of her own chest.

"I know you don't trust me," her captor continued, her voice eerily even. "But I'm not interested in hurting either of you."

Right. Olivia couldn't hold back a soft snort of disbelief as she yanked on her bound hands in silent defiance of that proclamation. She was still tied-her eyes dropped to the sheet that just barely covered her-and still naked. Any temptation to trust was quickly extinguished as she reminded herself of those very basic facts. God only knew what had happened-who might have touched or how-during the intervening hours between her arrival and now. And god only knew what might happen next. When her gaze rose again, it was full of fury and accusation.

The other woman flinched as she got the point loud and clear. "No," she said sharply, then repeated in a more soothing tone, "No...nothing like that happened." She shook her head, seeming rattled for the first time since her latest arrival. "I had to clean up as much of the blood as possible...so it wouldn't draw them here. They've never found this room and I damn well don't want them to." She took a deep breath. "But nothing happened beyond getting you onto the bed and cleaning your injuries."

She sounded so damned believable, but Olivia wasn't going to fall for a sweet face and honest-sounding voice. Those were every liar's most valuable tools. Her eyes narrowed doubtfully.

Her captor seemed to resent having her honor questioned, even in such a silent fashion, but she gritted her teeth and shook it off. After taking a deep breath she tried explain, her tone once again cool and even, "You're tied up for two reasons. One...I don't trust you any more than you trust me, so I opted to make sure you couldn't do any damage...and two..." She paused, eyes falling away for a long moment.

As Olivia watched in enforced silence, her captor took another deep breath, seeming to marshal herself, giving some sense that the hard shell she was projecting was difficult to maintain. Or maybe just hunting for the right tack to keep a potentially difficult prisoner as malleable as possible, her cynical side pointed out unhelpfully.

"Two," the dark lady began at last, "because I needed to check for bites. The one who attacked you just outside the house...it didn't break the skin. There's only a bruise..." She trailed off again and took another deep breath, the words coming slowly when she finally spoke. "But there's a wound on your left hand that could be a bite."

The pain hit hard and fast, a wrenching in the guts, an explosion in the brain. Olivia would have coiled into herself if she hadn't been tied. As it was, she strained against the bonds, every muscle in her body drawing bowstring taut. Flexing her hand, she could feel the weight and press of bandages and when she tilted her head back again, she realized the palm was tightly wrapped in pale gauze. Another stretch and flex of her fingers and she felt the pull of damaged flesh.

Another tiny, panicked sob escaped her lips, the fear not so much for herself as her child. She'd kept Emma alive this long through sheer determination and without her...

Children didn't survive in Afterworld.

Not on their own. And not often with adults helping them either. They were just too vulnerable, too small, too slow, too easily taken.

Without her, Emma wouldn't have a prayer. She'd either die by tooth and claw or starve hiding in some hole they couldn't get to.

Olivia was still lost in her own agony when a soft voice intruded.

"I'm not 100% sure it's a bite...you took such a beating..."

Eyes snapping open, Olivia glared at her captor in an effort to divine her motives, hunting for some sign it was a damned lie and there was still a chance she could save her child. But she saw no sign of lies, only sadness and even sympathy. Trying to offer comfort or trying to stretch out the pain, give false hope in anticipation of taking it away again? She'd seen crueler games played in her life.

"I couldn't take a chance," the dark lady continued, her tone sounding defensive to Olivia's ears. "And even if it is a bite...I gave you a shot of the strongest antibiotic I have."

Olivia frowned ever so slightly, yanked out of her own dark musings by the confusing bit of information. She was still trying to figure out what antibiotics might have to do with anything when her captor continued in a rush.

"A doctor friend...he thought that people who were bitten didn't die from anything complicated...that it was just sepsis...blood infection... because the dead...their mouths are so full of bacteria...that their bites are lethal...like some lizards..." She trailed off at last, shifting from foot to foot, seemingly uneasy. She opened her mouth and started to speak only to snap it shut again. Finally, she looked up and repeated, "Emma's fine." The words came in a sudden rush as though she remembered the probable reason behind Olivia's anger and terror. "And I know you want to see her."

A single eyebrow arched high, the expression conveying a grim sarcasm despite Olivia's obvious communications limits. No shit, Sherlock.

"The water's still running," the dark lady said softly in yet another subject change that confused the hell out of Olivia. "You should get a shower. Wash any remaining blood off, so you don't track it to her. Besides, it'll be easier on her if you're in better shape when you see her than you're in now. I have clothes you can borrow."

As Olivia watched, closely hunting for any sign that might clue her into underlying motives, the dark lady paused for a long moment, her eyes dropping to the floor between her shifting feet.

"There is one thing," she finally continued, flinching when Olivia narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I need your word that after you've seen Emma...know she's okay...you'll allow me to tie you back up..."

Like hell. Olivia knew she should control herself, stay calm, seem to go along, but she reacted at a visceral level, hurling herself against the plastic bonds, the fire in her belly suddenly molten, every fibre of her being screaming in resistance to the idea.

"It's for your daughter's safety as much as mine," her captor said quickly, her tone defensive. "If you really have been bitten...and the antibiotics don't work...." Not needing to finish that particular thought, she trailed off.

They both knew what it meant. Agonizingly painful death and hideous un-life to follow.

As fast as the rage had hit, despair washed in twice as quickly. Olivia sagged into the mattress. Restrained from reacting, her body seemed to let go and she felt the physical pain of every bruise and the emotional pain of every loss far more than she had in ages. The notion of willingly allowing herself to be bound was gut-wrenching, signaling a total surrender of independence that left her quaking with too many emotions to name.

But if she had been bitten, her ability to keep Emma safe was moot. Emma would need to be kept safe from her.

And if she hadn't, if this was some bizarre game, her first priority had to be getting out of the damned plastic ties.

Which wasn't going to happen unless she played along like a good girl.

Closing her eyes tightly, Olivia consciously blocked the world out and settled herself, pushing her worst fears to the back of her mind. Denial was a valuable skill in Afterworld. Some days it was really the only way to keep going.

Meanwhile, the dark lady was still waiting for her to agree to offer herself back up to bondage once she'd seen Emma. She'd done plenty of difficult things in the months since the end of the world.

This wasn't the most difficult, but it was definitely in the top ten.

"Your word," her captor repeated the demand, her voice low and firm. "Nod if you agree."

Olivia took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then finally nodded her assent. She was still lying there, trying to control the impulse to struggle, when warm fingers brushed her cheek. A beat later, the gag was released. The dark lady's touch was light and gentle and Olivia resented the sense of comfort it threatened to offer. She didn't want the seductive temptation to trust and feared having it used against her, or worse, against her daughter. She'd been called a cynical bitch more than once in her life and while it wasn't her best trait, it was probably the reason she and Emma were still alive. She trusted no one and nothing, and made sure she got others before they got her.

Any further thought was cut short as something cold and sharp edged was pressed into her hand. Tipping her head back, she saw a small, saw-edged, folding knife. The tip was sharply pointed, the blade about three inches long. As she looked down, her captor stepped back.

"Go on," she said, signaling that Olivia got to release herself from bondage. Her hands remained firmly on the shotgun.

So much for one escape plan. Taking advantage of her jailer while she was being cut loose wasn't going to be an option. "You have a name?" Olivia asked as she slipped the edge of the blade under the plastic and began sawing at it. Thinking of her as the dark lady might have a certain end-of-the-world appeal, but it also had a certain mysticism that gave the other woman power that Olivia would just as soon not allow her.

"Natalia."

"Well, Natalia," Olivia began, putting extra emphasis on the first syllable of the other woman's name as she finished freeing her wrists and sat up to work on her feet, "Olivia Spencer." She tracked the other woman out of the corner of her eye, curious to see if she'd recognize the name. Her faint shiver of tension might signal something, but maybe not. Could be she recognized Olivia's name from the cover of Forbes or Money or maybe just from one of Alan Spaulding's angry rants on the business channel, but she might also have just been preparing herself in case Olivia did something stupid upon gaining her freedom. "I'd offer to shake, but under the circumstances..." She let the sentence trail off suggestively, but met only a blank expression in return. Trying another tack, she probed, "What about..." She paused, momentarily debating how to refer to their attackers from the night before. "...them?" Zombies seemed far too B-movie; the dead, not quite accurate as dead things typically didn't do a lot of killing; undead, too much like vampires; and Zs or zeds a bit too slangish for a first date. That was one of the odder problems in Afterworld, referring to the current problems without feeling vaguely silly. "They got in, didn't they?"

"Only the ground floor," Natalia answered quietly. "It was pretty bad for a few hours, but most of them have already wandered back out." She shrugged. "They don't like to be inside. Maybe it reminds them of something or maybe they just...." She didn't finish, just stood there, shaking her head silently. "They've gotten in a couple of times before, and for whatever reason," she added after a long beat, "if they don't find anything, they don't stay long...just wander around for awhile, then leave. Don't even stay around here...just go back to the areas they prefer."

"Prefer?" Olivia repeated the word sarcastically. "What, you've polled them about their likes and dislikes?" The only thing one needed to know about the dead was how best to kill them as far as she was concerned.

The look she got in return was icy. "No, but I know where most of them range."

That earned a snort of disbelief. "Where they range?" Olivia repeated. "What are you, the latest in Wild Kingdom hosts?" Bemused, she shook her head, then held up an imaginary microphone as she put on an overdone TV announcer's voice. "In this episode, we'll be studying the zombie in its native habitat, a formerly bustling midwestern town where-"

"Shut up," Natalia bit out. A muscle pulsed along the line of her jaw and she glared at Olivia with a look that bordered on hatred.

Even knowing she should get herself under control and stop, Olivia drew breath to add another taunt only to be cut off before she could get a word out.

"I said. Shut. Up," Natalia repeated the command as she gripped the shotgun with white-knuckled intensity. "Those people were my friends and neighbors. I know every one of them...know where they lived and how they died...and yes, I know where they range now...near old haunts...a favorite bar, the family home, a beloved's house, the baseball field...nearly always someplace that meant something to them in life...."

Feeling vaguely assaulted by the intensity of emotion directed her way, it was Olivia's turn to fall silent and look away. For once she had no sarcastic rejoinder at hand. To her, the dead had long since become things rather than the remains of human beings. They were mobile killing machines, without heart or soul. They cared for nothing, loved nothing, and stopped for nothing save a sufficiently strong barricade or a killing blow.

She couldn't afford to think of them beyond the present tense. Couldn't afford to consider who or what they might have been. If she allowed herself to feel anything for them, it might cost her a second's hesitation in a fight.

And sometimes a second was all that stood between life and death when it came to the dead.

But that didn't excuse pushing so hard and pissing off her captor when it didn't buy anything. That was just stupid. With her ankles newly freed, she sat massaging her feet, feeling the tiny prickles of the blood flow returning. It bought her a little time as she mentally berated herself. Way to go, Spencer. You need her on your side, and you need her to think you trust her. Taunting and mocking, not the best approach. "Look, I-" she said at last only to be cut off.

"Just don't," the other woman bit out, then nodded toward a nearby door. "The shower's through there. Leave the door and the curtain on this side open."

Despite a general lack of personal modesty, Olivia felt her skin crawl. She needed a little private time, needed to check her own body and feel comfortable in her skin again. "Do you really think that's necessary? I'm not gonna fashion a shank out of a bar of soap."

Dark eyes remained hard. "You've gotten an eight-year-old this far in this world. That means you're smart...and you're resourceful...and right about now, you probably want to slit my throat..."

The latter was said with such cold practicality that Olivia flushed with something akin to shame, not just because of the ugliness of the charge, but because it was true. But true or not, she needed to make some kind of peace offering. "I am sorry," she said carefully after a beat, not arguing over privacy for the moment. "About my comments, I mean. Staying here...knowing people...before. I can understand how you'd see things differently." She kept her eyes firmly on her hands as she continued to work the blood back into her feet. "I don't think of them as ever having been human...I can't...not and keep Emma alive...do what I need to do without pausing for even a second." That much was all true. Manipulatively used, but very true.

Olivia risked a quick glance up through thick lashes in an effort to assess if she'd gained any lost ground.

Natalia's expression remained stony. "The sooner you get clean, the sooner you see your daughter," she said softly without acknowledging the apology. She kept the shotgun at the ready and it seemed apparent she wouldn't back down on her rules. "Or maybe that's not what's important to you," she jeered, hitting back and challenging Olivia's love for her child.

Emotion flared as every muscle pulled taut. Olivia desperately wanted to scream, howl insults and start throwing things. In another life, she would have done all of that and more. Now she just stared. Every last goddamned thing she'd done for months had been to protect her kid. But if that was how Natalia wanted to play it, fine.

Hands tightening into hard fists, Olivia swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed to her feet only to stagger and nearly go down again as the world tilted on its axis. Her vision blurred, sweeping in and out of focus and for a moment, she seriously considered throwing up.

Wow, she'd briefly managed to forget the little detail of the concussion.

Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths until she felt her stomach settle. She was still standing there, wavering gently when a tingling awareness slid down her spine. She glanced over at her captor just as the other woman's gaze snapped to the floor. It took an extra beat to realize just how much skin she had on display. She had the sheet gripped in one hand where it rested in the hollow between her breasts. From there the pale fabric fell away in loose folds, revealing the outer curve of her breasts and leaving her back and sides bare. It didn't take much imagination to fill in what few blanks remained.

As she watched, the dark lady-no, Natalia, she mentally corrected herself-subtly shook herself before looking up again.

Olivia saw the dull, embarrassed flush that heated soft cheeks and the way that dark gaze kept moving, carefully avoiding the sight of as much flesh as possible without losing track of the prisoner. A hint of a smirk curved full lips. With one path of resistance closed to her, Olivia suddenly saw another open up. Any weapon in a pinch.

"You have no idea what's important to me," Olivia said very softly, her voice low and angry.

Brown eyes tipped up, but Natalia didn't say a word or acknowledge the statement.

Big Mistake. Movements sinuously graceful, Olivia held that dark gaze as she slowly and very deliberately released her hold on soft cotton. It tumbled, folding in on itself to puddle at her feet.

Eyes wide, Natalia retreated a step, her gaze flicking this way and that as though torn between staring at the sight before her and hunting for an avenue of escape.

Even knowing it was the wrong tack, Olivia couldn't back away from a chance at coming out on top of the power battle brewing between them. A bold smile curving her lips, she faced her captor with brazen confidence as she challenged her, " Like what you see?"

* * * * * *
TBC