Underland(2)

Alpo chuckled at Kira’s whimpers. “Ya see, Vic, oi can still make them whimper.”

Vic sighed, “Yes, and you’ll get to hear plenty of screaming and begging when this one is taken to the pens. Don’t worry none.”

There was less light as Alpo and Vic pulled Kira farther into the tunnels and away from the sewer grates. Rank smelling fluid leaked in through the soles of her boots, cold and wet. She ignored the odor and cold as she counted steps and turns, hoping to retrace her route out.

She didn’t doubt that she would escape.

They stopped at a dead end. Kira looked up, puzzled. Alpo let go of her arm and stood in front of a huge cement block covered with bad graffiti and the word Monsters, outlined in neon pink. She had to stop herself from snorting in amusement at the bad artwork.

Alpo walked over to the side of the brick wall and dug his fingers into the cracks and pulled.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but watching a five-foot-nine man move a two-foot thick brick wall with his bare hands was not on her list. It wasn’t humanly possible. Maybe it was a faux wall, a movie prop used to camouflage the entrance. Or maybe there was a lever and hidden lock used to swing the massive door. A dark passageway opened up behind the wall, and a stagnant smell blew from the darkness. The hair on Kira’s arms stood.

They hadn’t blindfolded her, so they clearly believed this was going to be a one-way trip. And if they dragged her in there and closed the wall she probably would be trapped. There was no chance she could move that wall on her own. And only one person held onto her arm for the moment.

Kira planted her feet and pulled as hard as she could away from Vic. When he gripped tighter and yanked her towards him, she used the momentum to throw a left-handed punch.

Vic yelled and dropped her arm to grab his bloodied nose. It was a shame Kira had to use her weak arm. She’d aimed to break his nose.

Kira sprinted in the direction they had come, praying she could remember the turns correctly. Adrenaline made her legs fly beneath her. It was harder to reverse the directions under pressure, but she refused to look back, to give in to the voice that was screaming in her ear, Turn around. Look.

Vic was screaming at Alpo behind her, and their longer legs were quickly catching up to her. She ran, turned left, turned right. Did I pass that lump of garbage already?

Left.

Fear flooded her.

Dead end.

Breathing hard, she spun to correct her mistake.

Too late. Arms like iron encased her. Alpo grunted into her ear and tried to squeeze the breath out of her.

Kira kicked. She bit. She squirmed, used every technique her Navy SEAL father had taught her. She wasn’t going down without a fight. She wouldn’t betray his memory that way.

She’d never quit trying like her mother had.

Vic came up behind Alpo, wiping the blood from his nose on his sleeve. “Well, you have definitely made this interesting.”

His viper-like grin ticked Kira off. She spit in his face.

Vic’s grin turned ugly. His eyes darkened, and his hands clenched her throat.

No air. Between Alpo compressing her chest and Vic strangling her, she was losing consciousness fast. Her father’s smiling face flashed in front of her.

I’m sorry, Dad.





Chapter 2

Ears ringing and throat raw, Kira blinked and tried to make sense of what she saw and felt.

Getting past the rancid smell took a little effort, but she could piece some details together. A lantern hung from a pole in front of them and cast an eerie glow over the cavern. She wasn’t walking, and the men weren’t carrying her. Just a gentle bobbing motion. A bench seat pressed into her cheek, but there was no vehicle ceiling. Her hands were zip-tied behind her back, her feet bound with a worn black belt. The crick in her neck told her she had been lying in this awkward position for quite a while.

The bobbing was gentle, rhythmic.

They must be in a boat.

The skiff, or what she could see of it, was a combination of hodge-podge materials and shoddy work. Numerous coats of paint—some fresh, some older and half-chipped—covered the metal siding. A can filled with dead fish sat by the bow. The source of the stench. Blowflies fluttered around the disgusting fish in their different stages of decomposition.

Kira held her breath and only moved her eyes to see who was in the skiff. She counted six feet—two in green boots, probably Vic’s; two in sneakers, she bet they were Alpo’s; and the other pair of boots belonged to someone new.

She tilted her head a bit and saw what looked like green-hued water beneath them. Too much effort. Easing her head back into its awkward resting position, she waited for the ringing in her ears to stop.

Faint conversation drifted her direction.

“What do you plan to do with this one?” the newcomer asked.

“Sell it of course,” Alpo grunted. “Grater is still paying plenty of money for slaves.”

“I don’t think he would pay much for it. This one looks pretty weak. You know he likes fighters.”

“It mighta been a bit of a fighter if Vic ’adn’t choked the life near out of it.” Alpo snickered.

Kira desperately wished she could see the new guy’s face. His questions were finally giving her information she could use to her advantage.

“Well then, we sell it as feeder for a vamp or zeke,” Vic spat out. He kicked Kira, and she slumped sideways falling on her back.