Page 103 of Redemption
The long-ass march back in the direction we already fucking came from and back to this sorry excuse for a town.
The dickhead zombies that found us... and all their horde-y blood and guts and ooey gooey bits that got on us during the fight. Ugh... it’s probably still in my hair....
Then, we can top it all off with the coppery undertones of mens-fucking-stration. Combined with the lack of any suitable cleansing abilities apart from a package of cucumber-scentedbaby wipes, we’ve got a verifiable bouquet of apocalypse potpourri.
Oh, lucky me.
Fuck, I need a shower. Or a lake. I’ll take a damn bucket of water at this point. How the hell did I become so damn nose-blind? Ugh, and of course, I had to run into the former love of my life while looking and smelling like a fucking dumpster heap.
“Way to make a great second first impression, Aly... Really. The trash panda look is totally in these days.Really haute couture of you.”
Fuck you, ya twat waffle!
Although I’m proud of myself for instantly removing the fake and annoying smile he’s always sporting, the disgusted sneer on David’s face just adds to the proof that I am a vile, repugnant mess. “Yes... A bath would be necessary. Immediately. And then straight to processing. The Infirmary has the means to—.”
“I’ll take her as soon as she gets cleaned up,” Dare interrupts.
“You’ll take her to the Infirmary now, Drone,” he replies, brokering no arguments about the matter. “Immediately. They’ll clean her up there and then begin her evaluation. Once she’s cleared and fit for duty, I assure you you’ll be seeing this little flower in the capacity she is deemed worthy for.”
Darius hesitates, taking a small step back as his arms tighten around me a little more. “But, sir...”
David’s eyebrows rise, clearly finished with the objections. “Excuse me? ‘But?’Need I remind you of what happens to those who defy my direct orders?”
I feel a muscle twitch in Dare’s jaw, his guard fully in defensive mode, but with a deep breath, he manages to rein in his aggression in order to maintain the façade. “No, sir. Right away, sir.”
We turn away and start to head towards the large building in the back, but David’s cough stops us in our tracks after only about three steps. “Drone, I’ll need you to report back to my office as soon as you’ve transferred our newest addition to the medical staff. We’ll need a full rundown as to why it took so long for you to return, why you didn’t use the tunnel system, and what news you have of what lurks around the perimeter since you decided to stay above ground this entire time.”
His face is blank, completely stoic as he responds, “Yes, sir. One hour?”
David’s face turns down in suspicion. “Come now, Drone. Twenty minutes should be more than sufficient to get her to the Infirmary, don’t you think?” He pats Darius on the back patronizingly. “You know, it’s even enough time for me to acquire some coffee for our meeting. Look at this: a new arrival, a cherished member returning home, and a fresh pot of coffee waiting in the community center. What a wonderful morning for us all.” David claps his hands once, gleaming as he walks around the group before setting his eyes back on Darius, leaning in to discreetly whisper, “And, Drone, please do make sure to clean yourself up as well. I’d hate for that stench to be dragged into my office. You know how I detest uncleanliness.”
“Yes, sir.” With a reluctant nod, we turn back around and resume our walk.
Shit. Twenty minutes isn’t enough time to even begin to do what we came here to do. And now he has to go entertain a meeting with the devil himself? What if something happensto him? Or me? I don’t want to separate, especially not here where anything can happen. What if we can’t find each other again? I can’t keep my lips shut as I let my worry show through, whispering, “Dare...?”
“I know,” he says in reply, just loud enough for me to hear him against my ear. “David wasn’t supposed to be on the road like he was. Not at this time of day. Normally he’s either up in his office sleeping or in the Ascension house right now. I have no idea why he was on the road. We should have had more time before he was notified of our arrival.”
My pulse amps up, double-time. Dare’s breaths turn heavy at my back. Against my cheek, I feel a muscle in his jaw stiffen as he clenches tightly, the stress of the situation falling upon us. But, regardless of the sudden change in plans, we keep to the façade... and walk.
From the corner of my eye, I can almost see his brain working, trying to amend the plan on the fly, but we have no time. The building is right there. “It’ll be ok, Alessandra. I know a few people in the medical wing I can leave you with. I trust them completely. They’ll... They’ll take care of you and might even have the information we need. Then, after I’m done with this stupid meeting, I’ll head out and look for the guys. I’ll check in as often as I can. But we’ve prepared for this as well as a thousand other scenarios. You know what might happen, so be on your guard.” He squeezes my shoulder, as if to transfer some of his strength into me by the simple touch. “It’ll be ok, and Iwillcome back for you. I promise.”
My heart pounds as we walk up the steps, adrenaline filling my veins as I ready myself for what might come. Then, with a final nod of reassurance, Darius opens the door and leads me into the large building, giving me my first real look under the mask of Phoenix Rising.
Chapter Forty-Two
Hawk
Torture can come in many forms.
There are the obvious medieval methods: burning alive at the stake, being less than fatally stabbed while trapped in an iron maiden as you slowly bleed out, having your nails forcibly removed through the use of thumbscrews, being stretched to your limit by the rack, or compressed by the Scavenger’s Daughter. Even the simple task of placing a rat on a person’s stomach, covering it with a metal bucket, then using some form of heat to light it, stirring the rodent to find any means of escape, even by way of creating one through the victim’s belly, can be construed as a pretty effective method of torture. And then there’s one particular favorite I learned about a long time ago courtesy of the Discovery Channel: the Pear of Anguish. This was where a metal, pear-shaped device would be inserted into any available orifice a person had, be it their mouth, vagina, or anus, and the mechanism would then be cranked open, slowly spreading the metal petals within the chosen body cavity while effectively delivering indescribable amounts of pain to the poor receiver of such torment.
Over the years, methods have, naturally, evolved. Nowadays, there’s a lovely little addition called psychological torture—my personal and current Hell.
Unable to sleep, I pace the length of my glaringly white room. Even in the dark—with the moonlight streaming in through the uncovered windows being my only source of light—it’s still too harsh. I’m almost tempted to slit my wrists just to give it a bit of color. If I could break the fucking glass, I’d be out of here. Goodbye. Sayonara. But the shit is thick. Impact resistant. Like it was made to keep peoplein.
I fucking hate hospitals, and I realize this particular building isn’t actually one, but with the pale white walls echoing the stench of death and subtle notes of antimicrobial in the air, it sure as shit can be considered a convincing duplicate.
Ever since I was a child, hospitals have not been my best friend. Why would they be? Everyone who enters is either crying or in pain, or crying because they’reinpain. At seven I had to go in and bear the weight of my father plus two of the nursing staff as they held me down, immobilizing me so I could be still enough to get stitches. Needles used to terrify me. Of course I didn’t want one sticking through my skin over and over again. After that fateful day, I didn’t fight as much, not wanting the decision of going through with it or not held against me.Literally.But that didn’t make the visits any more enjoyable just because I was calm about it.
