John, Harley, Marcel and Brandon drove into the small, abandoned town of Higginsville and made their way to an old police station with high fences and locked gates. A man with unkempt hair and tattered clothing came out from inside the building, and scampered over to the large gate, unlocking, and hauling it open for the jeep to pass through.
Harley felt acutely apprehensive as the gate opened. Something just wasn't right, and that intense sensation of dread willed her to action. She tucked Rebel snuggly into her backpack, threw the straps over her shoulders, and wrenched the passenger door open, bolting from the jeep before it had a chance to enter the enclosure.
"Harley!" John called after her, but she dashed hurriedly away without so much as a glance backward.
Harley fled down the street, and turned into a narrow alleyway looking for a way to scale the building, but she could find no access. She continued sprinting away from the station as quickly as she could, veering onto streets, then back into alleys, desperately searching for a place to hide. Harley thought that she had been lured into a trap by John and the other men, but she was made of sterner stuff, and wouldn't be taken down so easily.
○
John raced after Harley, only stopping to tell the other men not to follow, for fear of spooking her even further. The town was small, so there were only a few places Harley could have gone. John doubted she would have climbed up any of the buildings, as there weren't enough around for her to move freely from one rooftop to another. Since he knew she had a full bag of food and water, she would have had no need to go to a house or market, and in fact, would have probably kept away from them based on their past movements together.
His hunt brought him to a small main street with an old pharmacy, butcher shop, bar and post office, among other establishments. John searched the pharmacy first, then the bar, but no luck. He then moved on to the post office. He searched the main level, seeing no sign of Harley, but at the back of the post office, he found a stack of boxes and envelopes strewn about on the tile floor, and from the direction they had fallen stood a closed door. John crept over the scattered mail and opened the door, seeing a stairwell that led to a darkened basement.
He pulled the gun from his bag, "Harley?" He called out, pointing the gun down the blackened stairs in the event a screamer lunge out from the darkness. He heard a noise, faint but unmistakable. It was Rebel trying his best to bark, but little squeaks were all he could summon.
John put his gun away, "Harley, I'm coming down," he warned as he descended the staircase. Upon reaching the bottom step, John was tackled from the side. He and Harley met the cement floor with a thud, "Harley, stop!" he ordered as he subdued her arms. "What are you doing?" He added, confused by her behaviour.
"This was all a trap, wasn't it? You know those men," Harley said breathlessly as she freed one arm and slapped John's face.
John let Harley go and she scurried away from him.
"This isn't a trap, Harley. I don't know them, I swear to you," John insisted.
"I don't believe you," Harley spat.
"We need a vehicle. That's the only reason I agreed to come back with them. I know it's dangerous, but I see no other way," John explained.
"It's one hell of a coincidence that they magically appear out of nowhere just in time to save us, and then just so happen to have an extra vehicle to hand out, don't you think, mate?"
John moved closer to her, "Harley, look at me. I swear on my life this isn't a trap. I'm on your side here. I won't let anyone hurt you"
Harley was quiet.
"Look, you stay here and I'll go back. I'll see about the car, and if there really is one, I'll get it running and come get you. All you have to do is stay put. I won't tell them where you are, so you'll be safe, yeah?"
"And what happens if you don't come for me?" She asked.
"If I'm not back here by nightfall to let you know how things are going, you get the hell out of this town," John asserted as he removed his backpack and opened the large compartment.
"Here. Take my food and water. If I don't show up, just go. But please, Harley, wait until nightfall," He continued as he pulled out several cans of food and bottled water.
"You have until sunset," Harley agreed wearily.
○
John zig-zagged back to the station, taking the least obvious route, so as not to give the men any hints of where Harley was hiding. As John walked, there seemed to be no screamers in the small town. He assumed it was because the town had already been abandoned for years prior to the outbreak. The men were smart in choosing Higginsville for refuge, but it also meant there was no food, supplies, gasoline or vehicles to be found, so they would have had to gather what they needed from neighboring towns.
John approached the gate to the station, and Marcel walked out to let him in.
"Where's Harley?" Marcel asked.
"She's going to stay elsewhere for the night"
Marcel stared at John for a moment with an unreadable expression, before smiling lightly and opening the gate to allow John entry.
Once in the station, John was introduced to Frank, the mangy looking man who had opened the gate earlier in the day. He was shifty, had a difficult time keeping eye contact, and habitually wiped his palms on his jeans.
"Hi, n-nice to meet you," Frank stuttered and spoke quickly as he fidgeted with his hands.
John nodded.
The fourth man in the group was Dilan. When Marcel introduced them, Dilan was sweaty and out of breath, "Hey, John is it? Nice to meet you man," Dilan smiled and offered his hand for John to shake. John obliged.
"I was just getting the car moved into the garage," Dilan explained.
"Good, thanks Dilan. Let's go have a look, shall we?" Marcel asked John.
He nodded and feigned a smile before Marcel led him out of the station and over to a garage, which would have been used as a car impound when the town was still in use. There were three cars altogether, but John could see that two of them were being used for parts. The car John and Harley would be taking was a dusty, red Subaru, with rust spots and a smashed headlight. John and Marcel lifted the hood to take a look at the guts of the vehicle.
"As far as I can tell, she needs fluids, a new headlight, battery and a new belt," Marcel explained.
"Have you got all that?" John asked.
Marcel led John to the corner of the garage, showing him a stock pile of car parts, tools, fluids, batteries, and all other manner of car paraphernalia.
"We take what we can when we find it," Marcel smiled.
"Good. I'll get to work then," John stated.
○
Harley spent the better part of the day cooped up in the dingy basement of the post office, with only one small window to keep the space lit. She felt like a coward for letting John go on without her. She still wasn't totally convinced that John had been truthful, but either way, hiding in a dark cellar and waiting to be whisked away made her feel small and weak. However tempted she was to take off and leave John behind, Harley couldn't bring herself to do it. It was uncharacteristic of her to give anyone the benefit of the doubt and yet there she was.
Harley focused all of her attention on Rebel while she had the opportunity. He was beginning to display a feisty, playful personality that Harley found to be captivating and she nurtured it by gently wrestling with the tiny pup. She needed him to grow up tough and courageous if he was going to have any chance of surviving the harshness of the new world.
After a long play session, Harley and Rebel dozed off for a short while, he in her arms, and she leaning up against the wall, but Harley was soon wakened by the sound of heavy footsteps thumping above her head. She straightened up and rubbed her eyes with her free hand as the basement door opened and crisp daylight flooded down the otherwise darkened stairwell. A pair of legs were all she could see for a moment, but as the person descended into the basement, Harley was startled to find it wasn't John who approached.
Harley placed Rebel down gently, grabbed the screwdriver from her backpack and stood from the cement floor.
"Whoa, no need for that, Harley. John sent me to come get you. I'm Dilan," he said with his hands up submissively.
"Where is John?" Harley asked.
"He's back at the station waiting for you. C'mon," Dilan smiled and waved his hand for her to follow.
"You go ahead, I'll catch up," she lied, still grasping onto the screwdriver tightly.
Dilan chuckled, "I'm supposed to take you there myself"
"Why didn't John come?" Harley questioned, but she already knew.
"Oh, he's busy with the car. Trust me Harley, he's waiting for you," Dilan said, stepping a little closer.
"Nah, I'm not going with you, mate," Harley stated as she lifted the screwdriver defensively.
Dilan laughed, looked to the ground and scratched his facial hair. There was a moment of tension before he lunged full tilt toward Harley, grabbing the wrist that held the screwdriver then flipping her around and shoving her harshly into the concrete wall. Dilan forced his body up against Harley's and pushed her face into the wall as he smelled her hair and the skin on her neck.
"Just take it easy, Harley," Dilan said breathlessly as he wrenched the screwdriver out of her hand and tossed it to the floor.
Harley looked down at Rebel, who was still sleeping soundly beside her backpack.
Dilan began touching Harley, her waist, her bottom, her breasts. He reached around to try and unhook Harley's jeans. She did the only thing she could in the moment, using her free hand to grab onto Dilan's engorged groin from behind her and clamped down as hard as she possibly could, causing Dilan to squeal and back off in pain.
Harley reached for her screwdriver and lunged toward Dilan, but he caught her arm before she had a chance to shove the weapon into his neck.
Dilan held her arm and bent over, using his other hand to swipe Harley's legs out from underneath her. She went down hard, cracked her head on the concrete floor and lost consciousness instantly.
○
John, Marcel and Frank worked on the car together for hours. They were able to start it up after replacing the battery and fluids, and John was positive he and Harley would be on their way before sunset.
John joined Marcel and Frank at the front of the car after starting it, to see how everything looked.
Out of the blue, Frank turned to John with a serious expression, "So, uh, be careful on your trip, hey? When you g-go. Who knows what else the Russians are cookin' up after this last attack," he said quickly and with shifting eyes.
John furrowed his brow, "Russians?"
"Frank," Marcel intercepted.
"I wouldn't wanna be out there, I'll tell you that much. Between them d-dam cossaks and the extraterrestrials, us little guys don't stand a ch-chance," Frank continued as he scratched his head.
"Jesus, Frank. You're talking crazy again. Go back to the station and get your head on straight," Marcel ordered.
Frank kept scratching his head as he turned his gaze to the ground and walked defeated through the open garage door.
It was at precisely that moment that something caught John's eye from outside the fence. It was Dilan and he was carrying an unconcious Harley over his shoulder, her light hair colored with red streaks.
"Harley!?" John yelled, just as Marcel closed in, attempting to subdue him. John wound up and cracked Marcel in the nose then tried to bolt from the garage.
"Frank!" Marcel yelled and Frank came running back in wielding a hand gun. Marcel rushed John from behind, grasping onto his arms as Frank aimed the gun directly at John's head. He had to think quickly. He dropped to his knees with all of his strength, pulling Marcel down to a bent position, just as Frank hastily fired the gun. The bullet missed John's head by only centimeters, and instead, planted itself in the very top of Marcel's skull. Frank recoiled in shock as John tossed Marcel's limp body to the ground and lunged ferociously at Frank, slapping the gun right out of his hand. John tackled Frank to the ground, straddling him and delivering blow after blow to his face in a fit of anger and adrenaline. John was able to regain a small measure of composure and reached for the gun. Without so much as blinking, John pressed the barrel up against Frank's forehead and pulled the trigger.
○
Harley awoke to the sound of gunfire and realized quickly that she was being carried. In her line of view, she could see a dirty tiled floor, her blood soaked hair, and two pairs of feet. Harley raised her hand to feel her head and looked up to see Brandon walking behind, "She's awake," he smiled and reached out to touch her cheek.
Harley immediately began struggling, but Dilan held on to her tightly. She attempted to wrap her arm around Dilan's throat and choke him, but before she could get a grip, he flipped her off of his shoulder and onto a cot.
Harley looked up to see Dilan standing over her, and Brandon closing the door to the jail cell that the three of them were in. He reached through the bars with a key in hand and locked the door from the inside. Harley sat dazed on the edge of the cot as Dilan moved closer, standing directly above her and using his legs to nudge hers apart. Harley pushed Dilan away but she was weak and confused. He might as well have been a brick wall. Just then, Brandon got onto the cot behind Harley and hooked his arms under hers, preventing her from fighting back. She panicked as her senses began to return and started kicking wildly at Dilan who was trying to remove her shoes.
"Sshh, Harley. It's okay," Dilan cooed with a grin as he pulled off both shoes forcefully.
He bent over to unbutton her jeans and she took the oppurtunity to kick him in the crotch with her heel. He doubled over in pain and backed up several feet. Harley then twisted and writhed in Brandon's grip, making it so difficult for him to hold her that he had to let go. She flipped around onto her stomach, and her knees fell to the floor, but her torso was still on the cot as Dilan lunged for her again, grabbing her wrists and handing them to Brandon, "Fucking hold on you cunt!" Dilan scolded Brandon.
"I'm trying! She's a squirmer," Brandon countered.
With her arms subdued over her head and Dilan leaning onto her back with his own body, she was prevented from getting up from her knees. Harley was helpless. Dilan reached around once more and successfully unbottoned her jeans, ripping them down, and pulling them straight off in one fast motion.
○
John stood from the bloody mess that was once Frank and with the gun in hand, he bolted out of the garage and back to the station. He burst through the doors to find the main area empty. John ran through the space to the back of the station and to the left, finding only an empty lunchroom. He dashed to the other side, entering into a room of holding cells and quickly saw the scene as it unfolded before him.
Harley knelt over the bed in her underwear, her arms held by Brandon and Dilan approaching from behind. John gripped the bars, feverishly trying to heave the door open, but it wouldn't budge. Dilan heard the commotion and turned, just in time to see the gun pointed at his head. He went down hard.
Brandon flinched and let go of Harley's wrists, raising his hands submissively.
Harley looked back to see John, then turned her focus on Brandon, jumping up onto the bed and straddling him as she wrapped her hands around his throat and squeezed. Brandon quickly lost consciousness and Harley got off of him to dig through his pocket and find the key to the cell. She handed it to John and slipped back into her jeans.
John unlocked the cell and entered, "Are you alright?" He asked in a panic.
Harley shot John a hateful look and put her shoes back on quickly, just as Brandon began to regain consciousness. John walked over, standing directly above him and pointed the gun inches from his face.
"No, please, please. It wasn't my idea. I wasn't gonna rape her, I was just holding her for him! I don't do things like that!" Brandon begged with tears in his eyes.
Harley paced over to John, snatched the gun from his hand and shot Brandon point blank between the eyes without a second thought. She handed the gun back to John and walked over to Dilan's corpse, kicking him in the gut then spitting on him in hatred.
Harley stumbled out of the cell and out into the main area of the station. John followed behind.
"Harley, let me look at your head," he insisted.
"I have to find Rebel. I think he's still at the post office"
"Harley, there's blood dripping from your head. You need to let me have a look," he said and grabbed her arm.
Harley shoved his hand away angrily, "Don't touch me!" She yelled and ran out of the police station.