The Wastelands

Chapter 10

Her eyes caught the shotgun in his grip and she pressed herself against the wall, backing away from the man as far as the chain allowed. He slammed the door shut, causing her to jump, then faced her with a snarl on his bronze face.

He wasn't the man from the road. That man was older and built more like a nail or a thin pencil. He had kinder, lighter eyes than the man standing before her. The darkness of the present company's glossy eyes stared through hers to the soul lying beneath. His bulky arms and legs made her shiver with fear, intensifying when he moved closer.

"Shit," she whispered with her eyes glued to the gun.

She checked him over, hoping to find the key to her chains dangling from his belt loop or around his neck. She noticed a large knife tucked into a black holster on his left side, but no keys. He stood a half foot taller than her with muscles bulging through a tight black shirt. His blue jeans were freshly cleaned, as well as his leather boots. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and he rested the shotgun on his shoulder as he approached.

"Look who's finally awake." His deep voice matched the darkness of his eyes. "For a couple days there, I thought you were dead." He spoke better than the strangers she destroyed in the woods and he didn't seem like the type of man who wanted to eat her like they did. "You were out for about three days."

Her mind raced with haunting images of lying in that barn for more than a day. She wondered what that man had done while her eyes were closed.

Don't think about it, just focus.

"Once I got that bullet out, you healed pretty fast." He said with a small smile, "Makes me wonder what the hell you are."

He took a step forward, keeping a watchful eye on her every move. He followed her gaze settling on the gun at his shoulder. His smile broadened and he lowered the weapon, aiming the barrel at her chest. Her entire body trembled and she took an instinctive step backward. The chain pulled on her arms, stretching them out. He laughed and shook his head from side to side.

"You're not the guy who shot me," she stammered.

He smiled and shook his head, "No, but he's a good friend of mine."

"Then if you didn't shoot me, what do you want?" she asked, hoping to hide the shake in her voice.

"I want to figure out why a girl like you is out here all alone."

"I'm looking for someone," an innocent response.

"Aren't we all." He lowered the gun and inched closer. She cowered against the wall, feeling weaker than she knew she was. "You shouldn't be out here alone. Slave traders are always on the lookout for new blood. A pretty thing like you would bring a nice penny at the next auction. The money would be nice but I could always use a slave around here. It would be nice having someone like you doing the chores."

"Trust me, I would make a horrible slave." She hoped her sense of humor would bring out the humility in the man—it didn't—then she added, "You won't understand but you have to let me go."

"Why?" he snapped. "Give me a good reason to let you go. Tell me why your life is so valuable."

She frantically shook her head and tugged harder on the chains. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stay calm under the pressure. In the back of her mind, slowly rising to the surface, her monster waited for the right moment to snap. The right second to harbor all of her strength and destroy the man at the other end of the gun. It was there, screaming at her to give it that moment and allow it time to escape.

Please not now.

"I'm waiting, kid." He took a step closer, slowly growing tenser.

"I don't know." She snapped, feeling the monster seep through the gaps in her words.