Surge (114 page)

“Huh?” Mariella asks.

I feel the knots of a rope binding my hands, which is a piece of cake for me, since I liked dabbling in a bit of bondage back in the day. Those days are long since gone, because I’ve seen the dark side of that particular fetish, and it makes me sick. Plus, I would never even think of try restraining Olivia, since it wouldn’t be pleasurable to her in the slightest.

I glance around the room, spotting a golf club in the corner which I could use, but I could also use the knife I feel trapped between my right thigh and the concrete floor. It’s not either of the rooms that I was in earlier with Olivia and Patsy, but I can see two doors in here that I could use as an exit; or the window I noticed a few minutes ago, if those happen to be locked. I’ll figure it after I get untied, and have dealt with the three stooges. I make sure that I have all three of the women in front of me, before I nod at Mariella, and start working on untying myself.

“That’s right,” I say as I get a loop out of the rope. “I heard all about your dislike of noses. Perhaps it’s because you hate your own? It is awfully big, so I wouldn’t blame you for holding a grudge against us perfect nosed people.” I see her scowl, and cover her honker of a nose, so I grin at her. Partly because I bashed her vanity, but mostly because I’ve already got more than halfway of this sucky tie job undone. “Did you get Big Bird’s beak from your mom, or was it your sperm donor of a dad?”

“My dad wasn’t a sperm donor,” Mariella says with a glare.

“You sure?” I ask and loosen the rope even more. “Because I would think that only a woman with daddy issues would be so dependent on a Charles Mason wannabe.”

“We aren’t a fucking cult,” the blonde one spits at me.

“Says you,” I say. “From where I stand, you crazy fuckers mindlessly follow your leader, and if he were to tell you to drink the Kool Aid, you’d all guzzle it down.”

I’ve now got the rope completely untied, so I grip it in both hands, and try to figure out the best way to take these bitches out. There are three of them, all of which have experience with beating victims to within an inch of life, but can they fight someone who can fight back? I know that I was raised with the concept of hitting a woman to be wrong, but this is life or death; and these bitches deserve a taste of their own medicine. Now, I just have to figure out which one is Amanda, so that I can leave her for Olivia to deal with.

“We don’t even have Kool Aid,” the last one counters with a smug smile.

“Then you’ll use the booze,” I say, and see her drop the triumphant expression. “Which of you is Amanda?”

“There ain’t no Amanda here,” Amanda says.

I know it’s her, because her eyes flashed when I said her name, the moronic bitch. So, Amanda is the blonde, leaving the brunette to be the only unknown in the bunch. Oh well, I have no problem killing her, especially after seeing her torture that poor rat upstairs. And I have the perfect weapon to do it with. I reach for a throwing knife, that these stupid bitches left the holster to on my thigh, and grip the handle. A taste of her own medicine seems fitting punishment.

“Sure there isn’t,
Amanda
.” Amanda scowls at me, but I ignore it to check out my other target. “What’s your name, stupid one?”

“I’m not stupid,” she says.

“Coulda fooled me,” I say. “My guess would have been that the three of you share a brain cell. How does that work exactly? Do you each have an appointed time to pass it on to the next, or do you have to ask for a turn?”

I can see that my speech went right over their heads, because they all have the same look on their face; one where it looks that the shared brain cell has fried in whoever
’
s head it was occupying at the moment. Can’t blame the tiny piece of grey matter, he had much more stupidity than he could handle all by his lonesome. R.I.P. you noble knight, your duty was wasted on this
simple minded
trio. When they continue to just stare at me with their squinted eyes, I look to the brunette.

“Name,” I repeat.

“What?” Dumb bitch number three asks.

“Jesus H. Christ, am I speaking a different language here?” I ask. “Habla usted español? O
inglé
s? Or maybe I just said it too fast; let me give that another go. What...is...your...name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I like to know who I’m talking to, now tell me your damn name.”

“It’s Janel,” she replies.

“Well, Janel, I hope you like Hell,” I say and sit up fast to hurl my ginsu knife at her. After throwing knives to take down wheezers for over a year, I don’t even have to look to know that it speared her eye, so that frees me up to deal with the other two. It helps that they’re gaping at me in shock, but I manage to lasso a pair of deceitful bitches. Jogging around them, I twist the rope and pull tight, knocking the two of them together.

“What the hell?” Amanda asks.

“I told you we should have killed him,” Mariella snaps. “But no, we have to wait for the boss, and now look where we are.”

“Well, if you didn’t start talking to him, then we would have been fine,” Amanda replies.

“And if you knew how to tie a damn knot, he wouldn’t have gotten out,” Mariella retorts.

“I didn’t tie it, Janel did.”

“But you supervised her, so that makes it
your
fault,” Mariella counters.

“If you....” Amanda’s response is cut off, by me.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” The two of them pause their bickering, to glare at me. “Thank you, Jesus, some blessed silence at long last.” When they go to open their mouths, I hold up my hands. “Zip it. Not another word, or I’ll slit your fucking throats, and bathe in your blood.” I see their eyes widen, so I guess that they can dish it out, but can’t take a dose of their own medicine. “Tell me where the fuck he took Olivia, and I might let you live.”

“But you told us not to talk,” Mariella says. I point at her, and smile when she flinches.

“I did, and I’ll be
following
through with my blood bath, if you speak out of turn again.” Mariella’s tanned skin loses some color, so I point at the blonde. “You tell me where she is, right the fuck now.”

“I don’t have to answer you,” Amanda retorts.

“You do, if you want to keep your fingers,” I say and wave a knife at her. If she had an Adam’s apple, it would have bobbed up and down; but as it is, she just gulps. “Where the
fuck
is Olivia?”

“U-upstairs,” Amanda whispers. “B-boss was g-giving h-her p-punishm-ment.”

Not on my watch he ain’t. I pull the lassoed duo to me, and drag them toward the leaky pipe in the corner. I twist each of their arms behind their backs and perform three types of knots on each; thanking Mr. Moure as I do it for his obsessive teaching of how to tie fishing line. I know for a fact that it will hold them, because those are the same knots that worked on a two ton great white when we went deep sea fishing; but just in case I’m a little rusty in my technique, I decide to give them each a pistol whip to the temple.

“Ow, what the hell was that for?” Mariella demands, as she scowls at me. Whoops, looks like I’ve gotta work on my knockouts. Oh well, another swing won’t hurt me any, but it sure the fuck will hurt these bitches. I give her another two whacks, before she’s finally out. I check her pulse just to make sure I didn’t unintentionally kill her; I didn’t, so I move on to the blonde.

“You the one who bashed me over the head with that club?” I ask and jerk my chin at the golf club in the corner behind her. Amanda starts shaking her head back and forth rapidly, which is a dead giveaway. “Yeah, you were, maybe I’ll use that on you instead. You know,
‘an eye for an eye,’
and all that good stuff? What do you think?”

Without waiting for a response, I tuck my spare gun back into the back of my pants and walk toward the corner with the golf club. Since these chicks were smart enough to take the gun from my shoulder holster along with my crossbow, but stupid enough to leave that one along with my knives, I’m only slightly shorthanded. Why the hell would they half ass it? If you meant to take a prisoner, then you take the fucking prisoner; don’t just tie them up and call the job done, you lazy asses. I guess that it goes back to that whole,
‘we’re invincible’
thing that they had going on in their deranged brains; which was also present in their lack of guards out in the woods.

Hey, I’m not complaining, since it made this takeover a hell of a lot easier than I expected it would be. And it would have gone even better, if we didn’t get sloppy; or that damn bang didn’t go off outside. Speaking of, I wonder what the hell that was? It sounded like an explosion, but the raiders outside were dead; or so John claimed, so what the hell would Wally and the others have been blowing up? I’ll figure it out later, I decide as I pick up the golf club; right now, I’ve got a bitch to detain.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~><~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~>

I’m not completely sure if I killed Amanda, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I kind of got a little overzealous with my swing because I wanted to bust in to break up Olivia’s
‘punishment’
as soon as possible. I’m hoping that I didn’t kill her, since I know that Olivia would like to deal with her personally; as would I, if I were in her shoes. But if I did, I’ll apologize, and point out that I did save her the other one; since I know for a fact that Mariella wasn’t dead, just unconscious.

The door on the right was locked, so I had to use the one on the left, which lead to the hallway that I travelled with Patsy and Olivia down earlier. I took the golf club with me, so I’m equipped with that, one full clip of ammo from my spare handgun, three throwing knives, and my hunting blade. I fought off wheezers with less, so I figure that I should be alright; just as long as there are no more surprises that bash me over the skull, and take me out of commission again.

I keep my steps light, since I don’t know who’s left, or how many. Plus, there’s the disadvantage of the sun being out; and since that damn blast compromised us, the element of surprise is no longer on our side. I wish I had a radio so that I could ask Wally what the fuck he’s doing, or Webby or John for that matter; since last I knew, they were the only ones with walkies left outside. Ace was distracting Cole, which he didn’t do a very good job of; since Cole managed to find us, and Patsy was with me in the clubhouse. But I remember the raider bitches said that he was being
‘questioned.’
I’ll find him too, but for right now, Olivia’s my main priority.

I reach the staircase we used earlier in less than a minute since exiting my cell, and lightly creep my way up without making a sound. I would right the contractor who constructed these stairs a nice recommendation for his superb craftsmanship, but he’s probably dead right now anyway, so he won’t be needing the work any time soon.

At the top, I press my ear to the door, and listen for any activity that might be on the other side. Hearing none, I twist the handle, and push it open a crack so I can peer out. I have about an inch to work with, but it’s enough to see that nothing’s out here; with the exception of the dry bloodstain on the carpet, and red smear across the flowery wallpaper. I’m assuming that’s from one or both of the raiders that Olivia killed earlier, but it could have been during the outbreak that some unfortunate club member had his throat torn open, who knows?

Pushing the door open wider, I stick my head out to check toward the kitchen to make sure that the coast is clear, before stepping into the hallway. Already knowing what’s off to the left, I decide to head right. There are only two doors down this way, which I quietly open to check, and move on when both are empty. At the end of the hallway, I come across the bar that Wally was watching from the outside. Remembering the layout from the outside looking in, I know that the dining area will be off to the right, so I proceed with caution in case there are a few raiders breakfasting. Crouching down low, I duck behind the wooden counter to the bar, and walk toward the dining room. I’m about halfway there, when I hear a crash.