Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.11
Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 11
Date: 13 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 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |
Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 11
Natalia tightened her grip on the shotgun the moment she heard the water shut off, then pushed away from the wall where she'd been half leaning. Narrowing her eyes, she braced herself for whatever antics her prisoner might opt for next.
She could see a hint of moving shadows through the semi-opaque surface of the shower curtain. The towel thrown over the top railing was pulled down and there was a soft rasp of terry cloth on flesh.
"There are clothes on the chair next to the tub," Natalia felt the need to point out even though the other woman had undoubtedly seen them already. The t-shirt and sweats were soft and well worn and should be easy on abraded skin.
No response, but after a moment, a well-tanned hand reached around the plastic shower curtain and retrieved the clothes. More soft rustling sounds.
Remembering the woman's cruel taunts, Natalia was tempted to make a snarky remark or two of her own, but there was a soft creak and distant thud from the floors below. Maybe only the house settling, but more likely there were still a few of the dead wandering about. The reminder of just what lay out there, and what the woman-no, Olivia, she reminded herself that her "guest" had a name-might be facing knocked the anger right out of her.
And whatever her flaws, she'd kept her daughter safe in a world that destroyed children and childhood.
And her little girl-Emma-wasn't just alive. Natalia had spent enough time talking to her and calming her to suspect an underlying sweetness and gentleness had survived. Not that she'd been overly friendly or trusting. She was quiet, reserved, and more than a little scared, but she didn't appear hard or jaded.
Natalia couldn't conceive what it took to maintain any semblance of childhood under these circumstances, couldn't even imagine how it could be done. Maybe the families who'd gone to the military evacuation centers-at least the ones that hadn't fallen-had managed the trick, though she had her doubts since the radios had gone silent months before. But she knew for sure that none of the people who'd stayed in Springfield had been able to protect those they loved.
Certainly she hadn't-
Mercifully, that thought was cut off by the rattle of curtain rings as thin plastic was shoved aside. Olivia wavered gently as she finger-combed wet hair, looking like she might topple at any moment. Nicky's old clothes hung loose on her, though they clung faintly to damp flesh in enough places to emphasize a body Father Ray would have described as meant for sin.
Instinct suggested that might well be an understatement.
As Natalia watched, she tossed a sopping bundle of discarded bandages into the sink. She flashed a quick look at the woman's injured hand. The back and palm were bright red flesh with only a few marks standing out as darker against abraded flesh. She'd given it a hell of a scrubbing by the looking of things.
Natalia couldn't blame her.
The expression in green eyes was so blank that for the briefest second, Natalia wasn't sure what she was facing--an exhausted prisoner or a creature that would go for her throat.
"All right," Olivia growled a tiny beat later, settling the debate.
The dead weren't big talkers.
"I played along like a good girl. Now I want to see my daughter."
"In a moment," Natalia said softly. "First, I need to-"
"No," Olivia cut her off. "Now."
Natalia stomped hard on her temper by reminding herself of what the other woman might be facing. She could afford a little mercy under the circumstances. Hell, she'd once prided herself on being forgiving and merciful. "In a moment," she repeated more slowly. She wanted to give her another antibiotic shot and rebandage the wounded hand before seeing Emma. The poor kid had enough to deal with, she didn't need to see the injury that might take her mother from her. "First, I-"
"Save the speaking-to-a-three-year-old-moron voice for someone who cares," Olivia bit out. "My daughter...." As she spoke, she braced a hand on the side of the tub, leaning heavily as she carefully stepped out. As she straightened, she blinked rapidly and seemed about to go down, but shook it off and straightened to glare balefully at Natalia. "Now-"
"In due time," Natalia insisted, her tone firm. "But first-"
"First?" Olivia growled. "No, now," she repeated, teeth gritted, eyes hard. "If you've hurt her in any way-"
"She's fine," Natalia snapped impatiently, stung to think that anyone would think she'd harm a child, particularly one whose life she'd helped save and whom she'd treated well in spite of having had that child point a gun at her. "And you'll see her after-"
"I wanna see my kid." Olivia staggered, leaning heavily against the wall, her eyes on the floor, body shaking unsteadily. Tipping her chin up, she gasped, seeming to fight for breath and consciousness. "And I swear, if you've..."
Then her eyes rolled, lids fluttering as she staggered forward several steps until she was standing in the middle of the small room, weaving back and forth gently, eyes unfocused.
Natalia half reached out with her free hand, not quite touching her prisoner, but instinctively ready to steady her. Damnit, she should have taken more time checking on her condition, but the woman had pissed her off so thoroughly and seemed so damned invincible that she'd almost forgotten she'd just spent hours unconscious.
Suddenly Olivia's knees buckled.
Without thinking, Natalia caught the other woman's forearm, her grip meant to be supportive. It didn't help and Olivia hit the floor on her knees, arm wrenching free of Natalia's hold as she pitched forward.
"Dammit," Natalia cursed under her breath, trying to get a grip on the other woman's shoulder even as Olivia fell into her midsection hard enough to send her skidding back nearly a foot on damp tile. Olivia's shoulder was braced against her hip and she wrapped an arm blindly around Natalia's waist, clinging as she continued to waver unsteadily.
"I jus' wanna see her," Olivia mumbled weakly, the words muffled against Natalia's side.
"She's okay," Natalia exhaled, leaning over enough to curl her free hand into her prisoner's t-shirt in an effort to keep her from collapsing completely.
"Please," Olivia whimpered as she steadied herself by wrapping her other arm around Natalia.
Not knowing how to help, Natalia was still trying figure out what to do about the collapsing woman when she abruptly realized the stock of the shotgun was pinned against her side by her prisoner's upper arm.
Olivia tensed at almost exactly the same moment.
One beat too late, Natalia recognized her mistake and tried to yank the shotgun free, but Olivia tightened her grip, pinning the weapon between their bodies and hampering her efforts. At the same time, the hand that had rested loosely against Natalia's center back, shifted, grabbing for the knife sheathed there, the same knife she'd held to Olivia's throat the night before.
Natalia heard the soft rasp as the blade slid free of the leather sheath, then suddenly she was in control of the shotgun again as the pressure of Olivia's arm was released.
For the briefest second, she felt a burst of elation, thinking she'd wrested her weapon free.
And then the arm that had imprisoned the shotgun against her body dropped and a strong forearm wrapped around the backs of her knees.
She barely had time for a startled gasp before she was hauled up and off her feet and a hard shoulder was slammed into her midsection in a move straight out of professional wrestling.
A momentary sense of flying at high velocity and then Natalia slammed into the floor. Pain exploded through her skull and upper body. For a moment, she couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and couldn't even begin to think. The shotgun went flying from her outstretched hand to bounce and skid well out of reach of either of them.
Move or die. The thought went through her head even as she slung a blind punch, unbalancing her prisoner-turned-attacker at least for a moment. A flash of silver slashed past her shoulder-her stolen hunting knife turned back on her-and she ducked and threw up a defensive arm. Her forearm took most of the impact, but left her open for the slapping blow delivered by Olivia's left hand.
No sign of weakness in the face looming above hers. Instead, the other woman's features were set in a hard mask.
Then suddenly, they were tussling, fighting for possession of the knife, each hunting for some bit of leverage that would gain an advantage and turn the tide.
It should have been quick and easy. Natalia was younger and uninjured, her body fit and strong, but she didn't have a child on the line.
Body blows and flailing elbows quickly left her bruised and breathless, while Olivia purposely tumbled and used her weight advantage to get Natalia on the bottom. Unused to close quarters combat, Natalia was overwhelmed. She tried to hit back, but it seemed like everything she did was useless. As far as she could tell the other woman didn't even feel it when her fists made contact.
She was losing and losing badly.
Then out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the discarded shotgun off to the side and realized they'd moved several feet in the chaos. The weapon was still out of reach, but not far. If she could just get loose and get her hands on it, maybe she could get things back under control.
Only in the moment's distraction, she lost her grip on the knife and quickly lost sight of it as well. Half expecting to feel it dig in at any moment, she panicked, twisting and kicking off in an effort to get to the shotgun.
She never had a chance.
She was pulled up short as a body slammed into her back. Wrapped around Natalia from behind, Olivia braced her knees on either side of her, and got a hand around her body, pinning one of Natalia's hands against her chest and grabbing the other at the wrist.
The knife came around from Natalia's right side, the blade skimming against the vulnerable flesh of her exposed throat, forcing her to tip her head all the way back in the effort to escape the razor's edge, until her head was pressed hard into the curve of her assailant's shoulder. With nowhere left to go, she was trapped between the sharp edge and sleek curves.
"A lot less fun when you're on the wrong side of the blade, isn't it?" Olivia demanded, her voice low and wicked in Natalia's ear.
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TBC