Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(126)

“Give her to Dori,” I said, straightening. “She’ll clean her up and put her to work.”

“She bites,” the second man said, laughing nervously. “Claws, kicks, and spits too. Drew had to hit her a few times just to get her to calm the f*ck down. You sure you want her in the Cave?”

“Give her to Dori,” I repeated. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Moving aside, I let the trio pass by me, glancing down at my hands. Caged as I felt, they were all I had left, my hands and the chaos they could cause, the punishment they could bring. The destruction they could rain down on whatever was in my way.





CHAPTER TWO


Autumn


Their calloused hands on my arms hurt. I wanted them to let go, to stop squeezing so much. But every time I tried to fight them, the tall one hit me. Best to keep still, to play helpless, useless. That was how I’d survived this long, out here all alone. Play dead, hide, stay away from others, and avoid the biters. Hush, hush, must keep quiet or they’ll hear you.

I didn’t normally venture so close to people, always keeping my distance from others, dead or alive, but I was so hungry. My traps had been empty for the third day running, the horde of biters that had recently passed through had scared all the animals off, and now I was starving and thirsty, ready to eat anything I could. And so I had gone in search of food, gotten too close to the noisy people who talked too much and still laughed like they hadn’t lost everything. Like life was still worth living.

People were bad. Violent. Aggressive. Greedy. They were worse than the biters because other than eating you alive, they didn’t want to hurt you, not like the people did. People liked to make you cry; they liked to hurt you, to see you bleed. They kept you alive just to watch you cry and bleed, then laugh while you hurt.

I wasn’t going to stay here, and I wasn’t going to work here. I was going to kick and scream, to fight and bite anyone who tried to touch me.

The tall one was digging his fingers into my arm, looking down at me with a sick and twisted smile on his face, telling me he was enjoying this, hurting me, teaching me a lesson for hitting him in the face. But I wouldn’t have hit him if he hadn’t touched me, if he’d just left me alone. I wanted to go home, back to my cave, back to the darkness and the safety.

The men dragged me inside, my feet dragging up the steps since I refused to walk, and they were refusing to be gentle. People weren’t gentle anymore; no one was gentle anymore. They used to be, though. I remember how they used to be. But everyone else seemed to have forgotten.

Inside it was cooler, the brightness of the day staying outside where it belonged. I felt better in here with the darkness. My eyes adjusted to the dark quickly and I saw other people, fewer than outside, but still far too many for me to feel comfortable. My heartbeat, already erratic, began to pound harder in my chest. I swallowed hard, my mouth parched and my stomach empty and burning, the few beetles I’d managed to unearth not nearly enough to satisfy me.

It smelled in here. It smelled of something that I remembered, yet something I’d forgotten. I didn’t like it—the smells, the people, the noise. It was dangerous, all of it, and would attract the biters. They would come back again, and these people wouldn’t be able to hide forever. They’d come and they’d kill, and I didn’t want to be here when it happened.

The men came to a stop in the middle of the large room, tables and chairs scattered throughout. People too, all of them staring at me. A woman in a wheelchair loomed before me; she was pretty but her legs were gone. She was blond and thin, and…nearly naked.

Where was I?

“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked, her soft voice laced with annoyance.

The tall one laughed. “E said to bring her to you. You’re supposed to put her to work.”

Work. What an odd choice of word considering they’d kidnapped me, dragged me off to their foul place of existence. I wasn’t doing any harm to them, wasn’t bothering them, yet they’d cornered me, taken me, beaten me.

I wanted to go home.

Home. Was that what I was calling my cave now? Home wasn’t what it used to be. It wasn’t a two-bedroom, white brick house with yellow rosebushes lining the driveway and a swing set in the backyard. Home no longer had a pantry and a bathroom, it didn’t have a television or a comfy peach sofa with three cream cushions. Home wasn’t any of those things anymore. But home, my cave, was safe. Home was something I could trust. Where I belonged. I couldn’t trust this place or these people. And I didn’t belong here.

The short, fat man was talking now, but I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering, and I couldn’t make out a word of it. I couldn’t be here, I couldn’t stay here around these awful people, these loud, noisy people. I couldn’t be here when the biters came back and killed them all. I wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.

“What good is she going to be to me?” the woman shrieked. “She’s disgusting! My God, she’s growling!”

“Clean her up,” the tall one said. “Who knows, there might be a whole lot of good under all that shit.” Glancing down at me, he grinned again. “After a week in the Cave, she’ll have all that fight f*cked right out of her.”

My pounding heart stuttered to a stop. Fucked. Fucked. Fucked. What was this place? What were they going to make me do?