Castaways (23 page)

other than acid. As she dry heaved, the creatures laughed, amused by the display.

Next to her, Shonette put up no resistance. She simply repeated her crazed mantra over and over again, shuddering as the third creature groped roughly between her legs with its long fingers.

"Shonette," Becka moaned, "you've got to fight."

If Shonette heard her, she gave no sign. Her body went limp. The only indication that she was even still conscious was her repetitive whispering. Becka's heart sank even lower.

One of the beasts clawed at Becka's top, slashing the thin material with its talons. The material fell aside, revealing her breasts. The attacker frowned, ogling them, and hooted with disappointment.

Becka's fear turned to anger. "We can't all have boob jobs, you hairy son of a bitch!"

The creature's frown deepened.

Becka spat in its face.

The monster reared back, wiped the spittle from its snout, and bared its teeth. Despite her desire to appear brave, Becka whimpered. The creature responded with a deafening roar. Its sharp white teeth flashed in the darkness. Before she could react, it lashed out, striking her twice more across the face. Its claws raked her cheek, slashing narrow, bloody furrows in her skin. Then it seized her breasts in its rough hands, squeezing them hard. Those same talons dug deep. The beast tugged and pulled. The last of Becka's resolve shattered. Screaming, she struggled to get away, but the other's hold on her legs remained unbroken. The more she fought, the tighter they gripped. The calloused

palms felt like sandpaper-covered vises. They ripped away her shorts, and Becka wailed. Something inside her throat snapped, and her shrieks became whispers.

One of the creatures positioned itself between her legs and pressed against her. She felt the slick heat, felt it throbbing, and threw up again—bile, blood, another tooth. The convulsions turned into dry heaves. Then she felt it invade her slowly, just an inch at a time. Becka closed her eyes, held her breath, and tried to block out the violation with the only weapon she had left—her mind. She thought of her parents, of her cat, of college and friends and the first boy she'd ever kissed. When none of that worked, she thought of Jerry. The creature thrust deeper, and she prayed again, this time for death.

When she heard the deep, rumbling grunt, she assumed it was just one of her attackers. She didn't realize that another one of the creatures had entered the alcove until she felt her rapist suddenly withdraw. Even Shonette fell silent. Wincing in pain and shuddering with revulsion, Becka opened her eyes. The creature that had been menacing Shonette and the two monsters that had been savaging her were standing up and had their backs to the women. Becka peered between them and saw why. The silver-haired elder stood in the opening, silhouetted in the firelight. It snarled at the three younger creatures in their weird, hooting language, and though Becka couldn't understand the words, she had no problem discerning their meaning. The old one's penis, while withered, was visibly aroused, as well, and he wanted to have a turn. The other three were

clearly displeased with the turn of events, and refused to step aside. The chieftain's growls took on a menacing tone, and even though he hadn't raised his voice or made any threatening movements, the three younger creatures were suddenly cowed. They bowed and scraped and whined apologetically. Then they scrambled out of the way and shuffled past their leader with their heads lowered, obviously unwilling to meet his gaze. They returned to the main chamber without glancing back.

When they were gone, the elder turned that same malevolent glare on the two women. He gave Shonette only a cursory glance before focusing his full attention on Becka. Then, without preamble, it came for her.

Crawling on all fours, Becka managed to skitter into Shonette's former hiding place. She'd almost wedged herself into the crack when the chieftain grabbed her ankles and pulled. Becka grasped at the rock walls and one of her fingernails peeled back, bringing a fresh burst of agony. Screaming, she clutched at the floor, searching for a handhold, a purchase, anything that would stop her from being dragged back out and raped. Her fingers closed over a softball-sized rock, and she seized it without really thinking about it. The old creature pulled her completely out of the crevice. Without bothering to flip her over, it tried to take her from behind. It pressed against her back and she felt the thin member— much smaller than those of the younger creatures'— creep between her buttocks. Enraged, Becka lashed out blindly with the rock. There was a sickening crunch, and it felt like the rock had hit something

soft. Wetness splattered her face. She struck two more times, and then, the monster's crushing weight was suddenly gone. She heard it slump to the floor behind her.

Coughing, Becka whirled around and gaped. The silver-haired creature lay crumpled before her. Its rheumy, heavy-lidded eyes were open, but stared sightlessly. Its gray, lifeless tongue lolled from its mouth. There was a large indentation on the side of its head, right above the left temple. Given the poor lighting, she couldn't tell how deep the wound was, but blood matted the fur and pooled on the stones where it lay.

Still gripping the rock, Becka prodded the creature with her foot. It didn't move. Cautiously, she knelt, staring closely at its chest. Then she held her fingers under its nose. It wasn't breathing.

"Holy shit."

Becka sat down and began to shake. Her entire body trembled, and the rock slipped from her fingers. Her vision grew blurry and the cave seemed to dim.

Shock,
she thought.
I'm going into shock. Some kind of delayed reaction to ... to what happened.

Apparently, the rest of the tribe was oblivious to what had occurred. The sounds of the feast continued to echo from the main cavern. She didn't know how long her crime would go undiscovered, though. Gritting her teeth, she drew her knees up to her chest and stuck her head between them. Then she took deep, measured breaths until the nausea, dizziness, and shaking had subsided.

When she felt better, Becka crawled over to Shonette and gently shook her. The black woman's eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell slightly.

"Shonette. Wake up. We're getting out of here."

"I'll be home soon, baby. You and your brother just hang tight."

"Come on, Shonette," Becka whispered louder. "It's me—Becka. Wake up."

"Becka?" Shonette's eyes fluttered open. "I told you not to piss them off. Now it will be worse. Why couldn't you just let me stay home with my kids?"

"Listen to me." Becka shook her harder, squeezing her arm firmly. "Snap out of it. I killed the leader, Shonette. He's dead. The others are gone."

Shonette bolted upright and glanced around. When she saw the chieftain's corpse, she moaned.

"Oh, no you didn't!" Shonette's voice cracked. "What the hell were you thinking? Why did you do that, Becka? Why couldn't you just go along? Do you know what they'll do to us when they find out?"

"They're not going to find out because we're getting the hell out of here."

"We can't. They'll make it worse."

"Make it worse? How can it be any worse? They
raped
us, Shonette. They raped Pauline. It doesn't get any worse than that."

"They'll kill us."

"So?"

Shonette uttered a choked sob. "Look," Becka said, stroking the frightened woman's arm, "this is our chance. We have to take it.

I'm not just going to sit around here, waiting to be a victim again. I'm going, and if Pauline is still alive, I'm taking her with me. You have to come, too."

"I can't." Shonette's upper lip quivered. "Just leave me alone. I can't go out there."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm afraid."

Becka sighed. "So am I. But if you give into that fear now, then you've let them win. And I'll be damned if I'm going to allow that to happen. Now, let's go. Can you stand?"

Wiping her eyes, Shonette nodded. "I-I think so."

"Good. That's a start."

"My head hurts
really
bad, Becka. Makes it hard to think. And I'm so thirsty."

"You might have a concussion. Just hang in there. We'll get out of here and then find you some help."

Shonette's eyes filled with fresh tears. "I don't want to die. Please tell me we're not gonna die?"

"We're not going to die."

"Bullshit."

"Well, if we stay here, that's exactly what's going to happen, Shonette. Now get up!"

Shonette tottered to her feet, swaying slightly. She touched the wound on her head with one hand and winced, hissing in pain.

"Damn. They really messed me up good."

"It'll be okay. Let's get dressed."

They collected the tattered remnants of their clothes and attempted to fashion some crude covering by tying the rags together, but ultimately, the cloth was too damaged.

Becka sighed in frustration. Not only had they

been beaten and raped, but now they had to suffer this additional indignity. It seemed to weaken them somehow. Not only would they have to escape naked, but now she felt exposed—more vulnerable.

Shonette stared at the elder's corpse. "Is that thing really dead?"

"I think so." Becka nodded. "He wasn't breathing."

"So what now?"

"You stay here and rest. I'm going to sneak next door and check on Pauline. Then the three of us will get out of here."

"But
how}"

"I don't know," Becka admitted. "At least, not yet. Let's just take it one step at a time."

"Hell," Shonette snorted. "Why not? Taking things one step at a time has kept us in the contest this long. Why not a little longer?"

"Exactly."

"What if they posted a guard?"

"I'm pretty sure they didn't. If there were more of those things standing outside the entrance, they'd have rushed in here as soon as I conked their leader on the head."

"Be careful," Shonette whispered.

Turning away, Becka bit her lip and prayed that she was right about the guards. She crawled into the darkness on her hands and knees, ignoring the sharp rocks that dug into her already sore skin. When she reached the opening, she dropped to the floor. The smell of wood smoke grew stronger, as did the tribe's stench. She crept to the ledge and peered over the lip. Below her, the feast continued.

None of the creatures showed any signs of interrupting their leader's attempts at mating. Becka breathed a sigh of relief. She had no doubt that if his murder was discovered, the rest of the tribe would tear her limb from limb and eat her just as they had the others.

Her stomach cramped as she thought about her fellow contestants. Sweet little Ryan. Richard and Sal. Jeff and Raul. She hadn't known any of them well, and indeed, she'd disliked the last two because of their affiliation with Stefan, but that didn't change the fact that she felt sorrow for their fate. Nobody deserved that. They'd come here to play a game, to be on television. They'd had families. Loved ones. Even that creepy Matthew must have had someone waiting for him back home.

Vowing that the same thing wouldn't happen to her, Shonette, or Pauline, Becka inched out onto the ledge and carefully crawled toward Pauline's alcove. The ledge was about eight feet wide and twelve feet above the main cavern floor. As long as she stayed low, Becka was sure she could navigate its length without being seen by the preoccupied creatures.

"Pauline?"

Becka's voice was barely a whisper, and she wasn't surprised when the other woman didn't answer her. She wriggled closer, dislodging a loose stone with her foot. It tumbled over the side of the ledge, clattering below. Becka's breath caught in her throat. She froze, pulse pounding, waiting to see if the disturbance had been noticed. When the sounds below didn't cease and there was no great outcry, she continued.

The next cave over was smaller than the one she and Shonette had been held captive in, and its

interior was much darker. It sat farther back in the wall and the firelight from below didn't penetrate the cranny. Becka peered inside. All she saw of Pauline was one bare foot, the flesh stark white against the blackness.

"Pauline? It's me, Becka."

The foot twitched.

Becka hurried inside and rushed to Pauline's side, and nearly cried out when she saw the injured woman's condition. The creatures had beaten Pauline even worse than they had Shonette. Like the other women, she'd been stripped and mauled. Her expensive, once-perfect, artificial breasts were covered with deep cuts and scratches that would leave behind scars no plastic surgeon could heal. Her abdomen and thighs were similarly mutilated. Her lips were cracked and some of her fingernails were missing, most likely broken off on the rocks. A section of her hair had been torn from her scalp, leaving a pink, oozing sore. One of her eyes was swollen shut. The other was encircled with bruises. Her arms and legs were also bruised—a horrific rainbow of sickly yellow, red, black, and purple. Worst of all was the damage between her legs. When Becka saw it, she shuddered and began to weep.

"Oh . . . Pauline, can you hear me?"

She stroked Pauline's hair, and the woman stirred, blinking her eyes.