Made to Suffer

My body shook uncontrollably the closer those bastards got to Glenn. Two more innocent men knelt in the way before it was undoubtedly Glenn's turn. The feeling was suffocating. To not have an ounce of control over a situation. A situation that only ended in life or death. I could hear the repetitive motion of the men being slaughtered. After the first man was killed, I knew exactly what was happening with each sound being made. I tried hard to squeeze my eyes shut, shielding myself from the scene before me, but it was a hopeless effort.

There was a whack, the exact same sound as a metal bat hitting a baseball. Following the strike was one final grunt escaping the lips of the victim before becoming unconscious. Then there was a slice, the sound that was the hardest to hear, but undoubtedly the most frightening. The sound pierced through your eardrums like the blade was at your own throat before your stomach churned upon hearing the first stream of blood spraying against the bottom of the trough.

The tears streamed down the side of my cheekbones. How did we end up here? How did I end up here? My heart pounded against my ribcage from how frightened I was. For the first time since the dead started walking the earth, I felt it, in this moment I realized that I was not getting out of here alive. The fear of death has always been there, it was an understanding that it would happen one day no matter how hard I tried to convince myself we were invincible. But never did I think it would be like this. I always thought I'd at least go down fighting, not strapped to some table with my life in the palms of cannibals.

"Hey guys, what were your shot counts?" a man's voice carried over the room. I finally turned my head, my eyes landing on Gareth standing in the door frame with a notebook in hand.

"Thirty-eight," the bald-headed man answered before striking the last man to stand in the way of Glenn.

Gareth recorded the number in his book. The butchers then shuffled over behind Glenn. Glenn stared straight ahead, his sweat-soaked hair dripping into the trough before he wandered his eyes over to me. He was saying goodbye. I watched as the swinger towered over him from behind, the bat being thrown up behind his right shoulder ready to make contact. I screamed out in agony, the rag in my mouth muffling the true force of my scream, but it was enough to still hear.

"Hey!" Gareth called out, stopping the batter mid-swing. "What is she doing here?" He pointed his finger towards me. The two butchers exchanged glances towards one another like they were nervous. My chest rapidly rose when the attention was turned over to me. Why was I here? "You guys know that we handle the women separately," Gareth scolded him.

The younger one's eyes darted around the room not wanting to make eye contact with Gareth before he finally spoke up. "Crap, man, I'm sorry. It was my first round-up. She was right beside the car door and the only one I could grab."

"After you're done here, bring her back to the train car when you grab the other two men still in there," Gareth explained calmly like he was speaking to a child.

"Hey! Hey!" Bob's muffled voice then caught my attention. "Hey, let me talk to you."

Gareth exhaled as he ignored Bob's pleas for a conversation, "So we got four from A once red is returned and four from D?"

"Yeah," the butcher answered.

"Hey, let me talk to you for a minute!" Bob tried again. To my surprise Gareth actually walked over to him, squatting down on the other side of the trough and pulling down Bob's gag.

"What?"

"Don't do this. We can fix this." Bob nodded his head.

"No we can't," Gareth responded before Bob could barely even get out the last of his sentence. Gareth had heard it all before, the thought of that making you wonder just how many people had lost their lives here. Gareth immediately placed the gag back over Bob's mouth before turning his attention to Rick. Gareth was level with him, shuffling his feet over so he could be across from Rick. Rick started right through him, as still as a statue, as straight as an arrow, that same look in his eye on the night he ripped out Joe's neck. Gareth removed his gag.

"Saw you go into the woods with a bag and come out without it. Had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it. What was in it?" he questioned. Rick continued to stare, not a word coming out of his mouth. "You hid it right? In case things went bad? Smart." It was like Gareth was talking to himself. "Still, we'll find it," he sighed, "but it's too dangerous to go out there right now."

That's when I saw it, my way out. Gareth pulled a knife out from his boot, pulling Daryl's head over the trough and hovering the blade in front of his right eye. One action from Gareth and I remembered that I still had a trick up my sleeve, or down my boot. I had a knife of my own that they never found.

"What was in it? I'm curious. And it was a big bag," Gareth asked again, threatening Rick with Daryl's life. My breath hitched in my throat, but I knew I had to pull myself together and remain calm. Everyone's attention was on Gareth and Rick, this was my only chance to retrieve my knife. "You really gonna make me do this?" Gareth said as Rick remained silent.

My eyes remained glued to my left, watching the butchers, they'd be the only ones to spot me. I slowly pushed my right arm further through the zip-tie, giving my hand and wrist as much room as possible to move around.

"Well, let me take you out there," Rick finally responded, trying to find his own way out of this situation. "I'll show you."

"Not gonna happen. Although, this might," Gareth shook his head before bringing the knife even closer to Daryl's eye. I wanted to scream at Rick, yell at him to just tell Gareth. The weapons in those bags were useless to us if we were dead anyway.

My eyes stayed locked on the butchers who watched Gareth, waiting for Rick's answer. I brought my knee up, sliding my foot ever so carefully on the metal table until it sat just above my fingertips. I stayed there for a moment, not wanting to draw attention to any sudden movements or fidgeting. The reach for my knife had to be quick and undetected.

"There are guns in it." Rick caved. "AK-47, 44 magnum, automatic weapons, nightscope, there is a compound bow, and a machete with a red handle." Rick was being a prick, which worked to my benefit. I could see them getting angry with him, waiting for what Gareth was going to do next. I took this as an opportunity. I tilted my foot onto my heel, reaching my index finger and pointer finger into my boot and sliding out my knife. I had it. "That's what I'm gonna use to kill you."

Gareth chuckled at Rick's statement before finally releasing Daryl. Daryl jerked away, irate that Gareth even had his hands on him. Gareth smiled from ear to ear, finding satisfaction in placing the rag back into Rick's mouth.

"Thanks," he said, patting Rick on the shoulder before grabbing his notebook from the floor and standing up. "You have two hours to get them on the driers," he warned the butchers. "Then we go back to a public face. Now is that time we can get messy, but we need to dial it all in by sundown."

"Yes sir-"

Gareth was headed for the door when two faint gunshots went off. At first, I was sure I was hearing things. Gareth pulled out his radio, "Hey, Chuck?" There was no answer from the other side.

The batter took another swing at Glenn. I flipped the knife in my palm and began cutting. Then another gunshot went off, this time closer to where we were, everyone heard it. The batter stopped mid-swing again. My knife finally cut through the zip-tie. There was silence for a moment. Everyone looked around frantically trying to figure out what was going on, waiting to hear for another shot or where the source was coming from. Instead, the floor and walls rumbled, an explosion from outside knocking everyone off of their feet. Small pieces of cement fell from the ceilings, causing a thin cloud of dust to hover in the air. Rather than shielding myself from falling debris, I rolled over, swiftly cutting the second zip-tie from my left wrist and returning flat on my back when the room settled.

Receiving no response from his radio, Gareth left the room in a hurry, leaving us with the butchers. Gareth left with no orders for what they were to do with us. We remained still as they panicked. The gunfire began to increase, the sounds of people screaming from outside travelling in through the open windows.

The one in the baseball cap picked his walkie-talkie, pacing to the other side of the room. "You there Gareth?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"He's busy," the bald-headed man snapped at him.

The young guy turned around, "You smell the smoke? You hear the shots? He could be dead. The hell we doing here? The whole place could be going up. " he was frantic, turning back around to face the wall like he was thinking about what he should do next.

My heart raced, this was my chance. I gripped my knife tight in my hand, afraid that it would slip out at any moment and my one chance would be ruined. I watched the two men fight, waiting for when they both had their backs turned. Then it happened.

"You went on one round-up and blew protocol already." The bald-headed man followed the young guy. I sat up from the table, my feet hitting the ground quietly. "We don't deal with security. That ain't our job. This is." I walked across the room swiftly, Rick, Bob, Daryl, and Glenn's eyes wide with both excitement and fear. "Hey, look at me!" the man called out to his partner. I had to be quick. Just as the young guy reluctantly turned around I lunged from behind the batter, sinking my knife deep into the base of his neck. The man fell to his knees, my hand becoming hot from his blood as his limp body revealed me.

"No, no, no, no," the young guy pleaded. My eyes narrowed, rage stirring around in the pit of my stomach as I stomped towards him. In two steps I was at his throat, giving him no time to contemplate his next move. These men were deranged, but their power came from our helplessness. Us being tied up and unable to defend ourselves was their power trip. But him watching me charge toward him armed, made him cower like a lost dog. The blade entered the side of his neck, the life vanishing from his eyes as his knees buckled. I removed the knife allowing his limp body to drop to the floor.

"Scar!" Glenn called out to me. I responded quickly, running over to them to finally cut them loose. Just as I cut Bob free, the last of the four of them, my adrenaline subsided. My eyes locked on the inside of the trough, watching as the pool of blood circled down the drain. The trauma of it all hitting me in the chest like a freight train. I couldn't breathe. I dropped to my knees, hyperventilating as I cried. I cried so hard that I couldn't catch an ounce of air.

"If they got problems, then we got a chance." I could hear Rick say.

"It sounds like a bomb," Glenn said, "Scar, are you okay? Get up," Glenn placed his hand on my shoulder, trying to shake me out of it.

"It sounds like a damn war," Daryl responded.

"Who the hell are these people?" Bob exclaimed.

Daryl then knelt down beside me as I tried to catch my breath. Right now I felt weak, I didn't want them to see me like this, but I couldn't stop. "They ain't people. Do you hear me? They ain't people," he said, grabbing my chin so I would look at something other than the floor.

"Daryl, grab her!" Rick called out.

Daryl scooped me up in his arms, carrying me out of the room behind the rest of them. Something happened in that room that I never thought was possible. We survived, but at what cost?