“You that pilot that came in the Blackhawk by herself?”
Hannah’s eyes shot open. The chunky woman’s face was less than two feet from hers. “Excuse me?”
“I said, are you the pilot who brought that Mexican Blackhawk in here a couple of days ago?”
Something wasn’t right. She didn’t like how this woman had moved up on her while her eyes were closed. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that the muscular one was closing the distance to come up behind her as well. What was going on?
“I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for somebody else,” Hannah replied, sidestepping the question. She didn’t know what these two were up to, but she decided it was in her best interest to avoid them.
She reached out to turn off the water and the fat woman’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist like a vice. “Hey!” Hannah cried out.
She tried to pull away, to no avail. The woman’s flab concealed a healthy amount of muscle, so much so that Hannah was powerless against her.
“Yeah, look.” Hannah felt her arm pulled upward and the other one examined her hand.
“Looks like bite marks to me. You one of them infected bitches?”
“No, I’m—” The punch came from out of nowhere, landing directly over her belly button. “Oof!” All of the air left her.
“You been out there with them,” the muscular woman accused. “No way you lived that long without being one of them.”
Hannah regained enough oxygen in her lungs to let out an ear-shattering shriek. Fatty’s other hand slid up over her mouth, cutting off the sound. She was jerked violently to the side as the woman twisted her arm around behind her back. There were several rapid punches as the thinner of her attackers used her like a heavy bag.
“Infected whore.” The words swam in and out as the big girl said it directly into her ear.
“Please,” Hannah gasped, beginning to lose consciousness.
“Shut up, freak. You’re either one of the infected,” the woman pointed to her hand, “or you’re an Iranian spy. Either way—”
Hannah was aware of another blow to her midsection, but her mind was already in the process of shutting down. She was going to black out. Then they’d kill her. She knew without a doubt that these two would kill her. They were part of that anti-immune movement that thought people with a natural immunity were somehow in cahoots with the infected or something crazy like that. She struggled to stay upright, to not give in.
Her one free hand reached back, grasping a handful of hair. “Oh yeah, baby,” the bitch behind her said, yanking her arm up higher. She felt the tendons beginning to go in her shoulder.
She clutched at anything she could find with her hands. The hand that was trapped behind her latched onto a nipple and she dug into the skin with her nails. Releasing the fat one’s hair, she trailed her other hand downward. She felt her hand go between the woman’s thighs and brush against something hard. Round.
Hannah clutched at the ring and pulled with everything she had left. The woman screamed, releasing her as she tried to pull away. The big girl slipped, her feet flying out from underneath her. Hannah’s index finger was stuck in the woman’s clit ring and the momentum pulled her down with the big girl until it tore free. A dull, metallic clank reverberated from the freestanding shower unit as the muscular girl landed what would have been the knockout blow to Hannah’s face against the unit.
“Aiyee!”
It was a near simultaneous scream of agony from both women. One, a bloody, torn mess of a vagina, the other with a broken hand. Hannah scrambled on all fours across the shower tiles, tried to stand, and slipped. She pushed through the pain tearing across her body. She had to get out of the showers. To the hallway. It was her only hope.
“Where are you going, bitch?” one of the women yelled. She felt a meaty hand around her ankle and she kicked out, landing the heel of her foot across the bridge of a nose. The hand released her. “Mother fucker!”
She redoubled her efforts, sloshing through the water on all fours. She made it to the tile in the dressing area and her hands slipped, knocking her chin against the floor.
“Come back here—whoa!”
Hannah saw the muscular woman’s wet feet slip on the dry tile, the same as her hands had done moments before. It happened so fast that her mind barely registered the fall. A sickening thud echoed across the dressing room as the woman’s head slammed into the corner of a heavy wooden bench.
The woman didn’t move and Hannah stared in horror as blood began to cover the white tile. Moaning from inside the shower room shook her from the shock and she used a bench to pull herself to her feet. She hobbled forward, reaching for the door.
When she emerged into the hallway, Hannah yelled for help. She could barely move. They’d worked her over good. It was all she could do to stay upright. All she could…
Hannah’s legs gave out and she fell. Her hands barely caught her from hitting her face onto the floor once more. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. She screamed once more, this time, she heard far off voices of alarm. People were responding.
Down the hallway, she saw several soldiers appear, running toward her. She smiled. As she did so, her eyes focused on her bloody fist. She didn’t remember—
Hannah opened her hand. A healthy chunk of jagged flesh protruded from the silver ring resting on the first knuckle of her index finger. “Got you, bitch,” she groaned and closed her eyes.
30
MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
MARCH
