Lockdown – Day Five (continued)

Hello Hello!

We left John and Sarah in a bit of a pickle yesterday…so let’s find out where they are at…

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Thanks and stay safe.

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DAY FIVE  (continued)

John

From up here on the stairs back to the ground floor, I can see the back of a brute of a man, clad in black leather like a biker, holding Sarah off the floor. I try to muster my inner sneak and approach him from behind. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get there but I doubt a fist-fight will do me any favours.

He starts to club Sarah with a book as she struggles. She soon goes limp.

I’m within five feet. I decide all I can do is bluff.

“Leave her alone!” I command.

His momentary pause clearly shows he thought he was alone and free to do whatever he planned next. He rotates to face me and see who he’s up against. He has greasy, lank wisps of hair on a mostly bald head; tattoos appear to fill up his body as far as his bearded chin. His flies are undone. He sneers at me. We both know his intentions.

I can see he is assessing me. Right now, I’m pointing a rolled up magazine at him threateningly from the inside of my jacket pocket. I hope I look deranged enough.

“Get out of here!” I hiss, pushing my pocket forwards.

“Or else what?” he asks, taking a step towards me.

“Else I shoot you! You filth!”

He laughs with a deep tone, “What is there to live for anyway? Death from the virus would have been a mercy compared to what has followed!”

He charges. I try to dodge him but am too slow. He catches my side and sends me reeling to the floor, colliding painfully with a bookcase. Before I can get up he is straddling me and letting incredible punches go to my head. One, two, I don’t know how long I can withstand it. I don’t want to let Sarah down.

Thankfully I don’t have to withstand it for long. He suddenly goes limp and topples forward onto me. I’m dazed but can still smell his body odour. It’s rank. I need a minute before I try to lever him off.

Someone else saves me the trouble.

I stare upwards into the eyes of a woman. She is wiping a knife on the dead man’s backside. I get the impression she might have done that kind of thing before.

“Pervert!” she hisses, and spits on his corpse.

She holds out a hand to me to help me up. This lady looks weak at first glance, but there is clearly a strong, sinewy kind of strength in her arms as she helps me up.

“Thanks,” I groan, wiping my face with my hand. It hurts like hell and my hand has blood on it.

“You’ll live,” she says matter-of-factly, stowing her blade in a sheath upon her belt. Her clothes are filthy; a cream-coloured vest and grey cargo trousers that look like they would really benefit from a meeting with Persil.

“Let’s get you both out of here before the rest of them come back.” Before I can try to be a gentleman, she has Sarah’s limp form draped over her shoulder while I only have our bags.

We don’t dally on our way back to what I assume is her current base, a second floor apartment a couple of blocks from the library. It’s nice inside, very modern, with lovely views. She probably watched us go into the library and expected trouble.

She lays Sarah on a bed in one of two bedrooms and says to me, “Rebecca”, offering her hand.

“I didn’t think we touch anymore?” I ask, taking it anyway. “I’m John, that’s Sarah.”

“Who cares about touching now? The virus ran its course a while ago.”

“Will she be OK, do you think?”

“I hope so. Hopefully just a short rest required. You can stay here for now.”

“Thanks for your help,” I say, “I thought we were done.”

“I’ve been waiting to get that bastard for weeks!” she has a sad look in her eyes. “I saw him rape and murder on more than one occasion. He waited for any opportunity he could get with girls and women of any age. There’s no justice when people like that survive a plague!”

I decide not to press her too much on things for now. We instead leave the bedroom and close the door.

“Do you have water?” I ask.

“You’re lucky,” she says, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sarah

I have a pounding headache, worse than anything I can ever remember. I’m not sure I can see straight either. Where am I? What happened? Who brought me here? I don’t think it’s the library. I move my hands across my body. Where are my clothes? I touch my face and feel like it has ballooned outwards. I must look horrible. I’m on a bed and the room is darkened. It must be dusk outside.

I slowly recall my last thoughts as a hand was roughly across my face and chest. What has he done to me?

“She’s awake,” I hear a woman say. I guess that’s better than a man saying it.

I look at the woman. I guess she is smaller than me but she has a hard face with cold, grey eyes and blonde hair, tied back; she looks like she could hold her own if things got bad. She probably already has done.

“What happened?” I ask, I sound groggy.

“You were hit with a book, you’ve been unconscious for about six hours,” she says candidly with no real emotion. “You’ll be OK.”

“Where’s John? Is he OK?” I ask.

“He looks worse than you but yes, he’s fine. He’s resting too. He tried to save you.”

I smile at her. She smiles back, human after all.

“I had to save him,” she adds.

I laugh and it hurts.

“I’m Rebecca, you’re both staying with me until you’re fit again.”

“Thanks, Rebecca. I’m Sarah.”

She nods, “I know. Now get some rest and we can talk again in the morning.”

She leaves the room with only me and my thoughts left there.