Keep Busy

49.

If Roy could have, he would have been saying, "Fucking shit goddamn fucking whore cunt bitch!" But he couldn't... so he let out his rage through his feet as he kicked and stomped an already fallen soldier's corpse into a meaty pulp. He watched the skull collapse under his boot, heard arm bones and ribs snap, delighted in seeing skin peel away from the friction of his tirade. He imagined it was Emily lying there being brutally crushed under his heel.

Now, he was going to have to deal with that precocious little bitch too. He'd have to take her out first. Eliminate the threat. And she was a threat. Too smart for her age, too hardened and tough. He'd have to make sure she was dead first.

Then he could deal with Jane.

Once the body before him didn't resemble a body anymore—apart from the clothes laid out in a vaguely body-like shape—Roy slumped down to the ground heavily, feeling very distraught. This is all getting way too complicated. Fuckin' Emily.

He knew he should have killed her when he'd had the chance three or four months back. She'd been so close to death but instead of finishing the job, he'd pulled up his pants and went to the bathroom to wipe the excess semen and blood out of his pubic hair. He just left her there bleeding and barely breathing.

It was back in Jeb's bunker—back when things had been simpler. Back when they didn't have to search for food and water or deal with pus-bag zombies stumbling around like drunks after last call. Or when he could fuck the shit out of Jeb's whore daughter with impunity.

No one said a thing back in the bunker.

They were all doing it.

Even the women would take a turn letting out their aggressions. They wouldn't fuck her—just beat her. Punish her for everything wrong with the world. They needed an outlet and frail little Emily was young and pretty, representing everything the other women would never be.

Who could've known they were creating a monster?

And while the men were taking their turn, they'd just let her cry and yell, pretending there was a horror movie on in the next room.

After the time he'd vigorously fucked her ass and she'd bled so much, he thought for sure Jeb was going to pull the plug on the in-house whore situation.

But he hadn't.

Jeb just thanked him for opening her up.

That was nice of him.

Roy kinda missed Jeb.

Roy reached around to his own ass and felt the hole where Emily had shot him. It was warm around the edges, singed by the slug. It was still in there somewhere—the bullet—lodged into the muscle and sinew like a pearl in an oyster. He examined his finger which was damp with thin blood. It dripped down his palm and off the heel of his hand, landing in the dirt and contracting as it soaked in.

He figured he should fuck Emily again before he killed her—even if he wouldn't feel it—but because he knew she could.

It's gonna hurt a lot more this time, he promised.