The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) (17 page)

             
“A'ight lil lady, take dem dirty rags off.”

             
I hesitated a moment, but so far she seemed nice so I did as she said and stripped off my clothes. Quickly she began to scrub me down with a sponge and water from the bucket. She was fast and ever so rough, my skinning turning red almost instantly. But I never complained, I dare not, so instead I bit my lips and took it. Not once did I flinch, not even when she reached my privates and scrubbed even harder, as if she wanted to tear the skin away.

             
“We gets you smelling pretty for BP. He like his girls clean.”

             
She didn't say much else as she bathed me and washed my hair. When I was clean enough to her liking she threw me a faded pink night-gown, then just like momma use to every night, the old lady began to brush out the knots in my hair. She raked the bristles through with such force that if felt as if she was ripping the hair right out of my head. Once clear of tangles she put it up in a tight little pony tail then placed her frail hands on my shoulders while turning me to face her. Her eyes were sunken and dark, like she hadn't slept in weeks, and she stared into my eye so seriously that I feared what she was about to say.

             
“Now you listen 'n listen good young missy. You's do as BP say. If you obey then he protect you from da others.” She paused for a moment and stared into my eyes. “You's is a pretty girl, just likes my lil Amy.”

             
“Is that your daughter?” I asked.

             
“Yes dear,” she said, “My Amy just had a birthday, bout your age I'm a guess'n.”

             
“Can I meet her?”

             
Her face went still and I could see her eyes watering up. She immediately stood up and walked to the door without giving me an answer. I must have upset her, but I did not apologize, I just watched her walk away. As she opened the door she paused again and looked back over to me. A single tear streamed down her cheek, but she did not brush it away. Instead, she gently pointed her finger out at me.

             
“When BP comes for you's, close your eyes and let you's mind go someplace - better.” she said and then closed the door behind her.

             
I sat in the room for what seemed like hours, listening to the commotions of the people out in the kitchen. I counted about fifteen different voices during that time alone. Talking about the “Damn Truck,” or the lack of food, but mostly about me. They were all men, aside from the old lady, and not once did I hear Amy’s voice. I figured she must have been outside, or asleep in her room. There was a young boy though who was always asking if he could come see me, but immediately told to stay away.

             
As night fell and the light from under the door faded, the group had made their way outside. I could hear the crackle and roar of a big fire and a chorus of shouting and laughing as the group gathered for what sounded like a party. Aside from the occasional arguments, and constant cussing, they all seemed happy and having a good old-time. It reminded me of when my dad had friends over on Sunday nights. I use to sit in bed and listen to them cheer at the TV as I drifted off to sleep. The thought of all the fun outside and warmth of the fire excited me, so I slowly opened the door to my room to try and get a look. Maybe they would invite me out with them, I hoped.

             
The house was dim and empty so I tip-toed my way through the kitchen and towards the front door. It was a nice big house, like an old farm-house with large staircase that stretched from the front door up to the second floor where there was a few more bedrooms. It was obvious that no one had cleaned in a while, the walls were caked in a black film and dusty cobwebs stretched about the place. Muddy boot-prints mucked up the floor, old dirt, dry and crumbling into sand. I considered cleaning up for them, earn some brownie points and maybe be rewarded with better food, or at least allowed to sit by the fire with them.

             
The yard outside was entirely illuminated by the flames as I peered out the doorway. Everyone was sitting around drinking and having fun. Their faces glowed in the firelight, giving them all and eerie yet angelic expression. The old lady sat next to the little boy, quietly watching the fire and ignoring the others. I'm not sure what they were drinking, but it had to be something like Old's Ben's happy juice, because they were quite loud and clumsy. Across the yard I could see a large shed, sealed shut with a big padlock. It seemed odd at first, and I thought maybe they had something valuable inside, most likely food. However, my attention soon turned back to the party by the fire which looked so warm and inviting.

             
My eyes focused onto a wondrous light-show above them as sparks danced amongst billowing smoke up towards the glimmering stars. It was like something out of one those fairy tales momma use to tell me. A place where fairies would float about a mystical forest. It was when one of them men, the skinniest of the bunch, turned and looked towards me that I realized Big Paul was not out with them. Then for a split-second, everything went black, I almost didn't realize that I had been hit. A sharp pain shot across my face and I found myself sprawled out onto the floor looking up at an angered BP, and I began to cry.

             
“You lil bitch, trying to fucking sneak off!” His hand rose again and struck me hard as a hammer right across my chin, “Stop your God Damn crying or I'll give ya sump'n to cry about!”

             
I didn't stop, in fact I sobbed harder and louder, shaking in both fear and anger. The rest of the group had heard the commotion and left the comfort of the fire to gather outside the door and watch as Big Paul grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out and across the yard. I flailed to grab hold of his hands, to try and break my hair free, but there was no use.

             
“HELP!” I cried out to someone, anyone.

             
But the group just chuckled and laughed at me. Except for the Old Lady and the young boy who still sat quietly next to the fire. They just watched in silence as I struggled to break free, and the rest followed right behind us. Paul's grip on my hair made it feel as if my entire scalp was peeling away, and I continued to cry out even louder, the echoes of my own screams filled my ears.

             
Big Paul lifted me up from the ground as we came to the door of the shed and then he slammed my face hard into it. There was a bright flash of light behind my eyes, then a silent moment of darkness. The last thing I remember is laying on the ground watching his big fat fingers fumble with the lock as the rest laughed and poked fun of me.

continuance;

              The sun eased through my bedroom window and shined upon my face, the morning light warming and pulling me out of a peaceful night’s sleep. I kept my eyes closed, hanging on to a few more moments of rest before Mom woke me for school. Safe and back in my home, in my own comfy bed. I was smiling, happy, and I had no memory of the Hungry. I was a kid again, that sweet little girl I had forgotten about so long ago. And the best part was, that for a brief moment, it was not a dream. I was positively awake.

             
But then it all faded away, like the water on a beach when a large swell builds up just off shore. In return a tide of confusion and fog surged over me, my ears rung out in pain as my head pounded from the crashing waves. My eyes had been glued shut, caked together by a gobs of dried blood, and my hands were tied securely above my head. I was hanging, naked and alone, and as I fought to pry my eyes open, memories began to resurface. Like a movie in fast-forward; my parents, Old Ben, Big Paul, and even the… It all came back, all at once.

             
After a few attempts, cringing from the pain and sound of tearing paper, I was finally able to open my eyes. Just enough to catch a few rays of light shining through the cracks in the walls. I was in the shed, a small dusty building with no windows and only one door. An assortment of blades and other tools hung from the walls, and a thick chain dangled upon the ground just a few feet before me. 

             
I remember the floor-boards appeared to be stained brown, as if someone had just flung globs of paint all over the place, and oddly, over in the corner was a half-eaten birthday cake. A poorly made cake, not like the pretty ones my mommy would make me. This one seemed lumpy, and one side much thicker than the other. I found it difficult though to distinguish the frosting from the mold. Seemed like such a waste of food, compared to the smoked fish they served me. I wished I remembered when my birthday was, I really miss them.

             
As my pounding head began to ease itself I realized that I was not alone. A shadowy figure stood a few feet in front of me, just swaying in the darkness by that rusted old chain. Only a faint figure could be seen through my partial closed eyes. At first I just thought it was that old lady coming to clean me up again, or even that little boy who was so eager to meet me. But the figure just stood there, staring back me from the blackness, swaying gracefully in place.

             
“Hello.” I whispered.

             
There was only silence, except for a faint and repetitive breathing which seemed to grip my heart with icy fingers. Desperately I struggled to free my hands from the rope, but it was of no use, they were bound too tight. The more I struggled, the more I could feel the fibers burning into my wrist. So I gave up on freeing my hands and focused on getting my eyes completely open, so that I could better see who stood so quietly before me. Tightly I squeezed them shut, breathed deep, and held it in as I forced my eyes open with all my might. Pain tore across them as my lids peeled open, pulling eyelashes and skin away at the same time. Such a horrible sound echoed in my ears and tears immediately welled up as a burning sting joined in with the rest of my pain.

             
Warm droplets rolled down my cheek and onto my lips, I can remember their saltiness upon my lips, and something else. Something rich and slightly bitter, a tinge of something metallic. It was my eyes, they were bleeding. They must have been caked over more than I had first thought, and slowly I could see a cloud rolling over my eyes as my lids drained into them. Desperately I blinked repeatedly, trying to wash it all away, but instead I was spreading it further.

              Although the face was still shadowed, I could make out the figure before me much better now. A female, restrained and nude much like I was, but oddly different. She appeared to be content within the shadows, silent. Not once did she speak, nor did she move, she just stood in place like a ghost lost in the world of the living.

             
“Hello?” I whispered once again but still no response.

             
Slowly I leaned forward as far as my binds would allow me to, attempting get a better look, to see if this was the Old Lady or someone else. The figure fiercely lurched forward into a wispy ray of light, its teeth snapping out at me with such hate. I jumped back and screamed, my head slammed hard up against the pole, worsening the pounding within and causing my heart to leap up into my throat. It took a moment for me to catch my breath, as the Hungry continued to thrash out at me but thankfully just out of reach.

             
She was a Hungry, bound and chained just like me. Her skin was pasty-gray canvas with a mass of black spider-web veins running across it. Her eyes though were still a shiny brown, only slightly clouded over. She wasn't like the rest of them, it almost seemed as if she was fighting the hunger within, trying to push it out of her own body. A gash on her right arm, caked over with an oozing black scab was an all too common sign of her turn. But what concerned me most were the fresh cuts that covered her body, as if someone had been beating her on her, like a helpless caged animal.

             
The distinct rattle of the pad-lock startled me again, my scream had not go unnoticed. Lowering my head I pretending to be asleep, hoping they would just go away. I would have rather been alone with the Hungry than with Big Paul, or any of the other men. Keeping my eyes closed the door opened quickly and heavy footsteps slowly walked towards me. A heavy weight pushed down onto my chest, I was overwhelmed, I couldn't breathe, and desperately I began to gasp for air. It was of no use, I could not pretend anymore and I broke down sobbing and begging.

“Please – please just let me go!” I cried, never looking up.

              A large scaly hand grasped hold of my face and gently lifted it. My eyes slowly opened to see Big Paul's creepy smile and his angry eyes looking back at me. His rancid breath clung to my nostrils like gum on the bottom of my shoe. Tears began to roll much heavier now, buckets streamed down my face. I could not hold them back, I could not restrain myself.

             
“Good morning sweetheart.” he said.

             
He chuckled as he let go of my face and walked out behind me. I heard the strike of a match and the shed instantly lit-up as a rusted oil-lantern came to life. The poor girl in front of me was still lashing out like a caged animal as Big Paul walked over to the other side of the shed, and directly behind her. He threw a red ball with black rubber straps over her head, pulling back tight so that the ball sank deep into her foaming mouth. Still she violently tried to lunged out at me, spit seeping about the ball as she gagged in hunger.