1 Chapter 1; The Dream
Gwen's eyes slowly opened, her head throbbing, and her thoughts clouded and murky. Pain began to travel from the side of her head across her brow; just a few feet in front of her she could hear voices and sounds of a scuffle. Her vision blurred behind mud and blood. When she tried to slowly prop herself up from the mud a wave of nausea hit her, the vertigo forced her arms to collapse under the weight of her own body. She felt the cool soft ground spill into her tunic, now she was aware her top suffered a tear on the right side exposing her breast. Pushing the nausea down deep while using the ground to guide herself, Gwen managed to get herself upright into a crossed leg seated position. She could hear several voices in the distance; she took a moment to gather the torn pieces of her dress. Still reeling from the pain in her head Gwen found her fingers did not want to work, so she crossed her arms over her chest to offer her some form of cover while trying to focus on the voices in the distance. Over the ringing in her ears, she heard one voice that was familiar to her. Finally, her eyes adjusted and came into focus. A few feet in front of her, she saw four men. One had his back to her, the other three stood before him. Realizing there was a wall behind her, she forced herself to crawl backwards while on her butt to lean against it. The man with his back to her wore a royal blue Tunic, black britches, with a hatchet in his right hand, and a torch in his left. Before him with their eyes locked on her were three men in the light leather armor of Rogues, thieves, and mercenaries. Her vision began to fade; her head spinning in pain, she slumped against the wall. After what seemed like an extended blink, her vision cleared briefly and in that moment, she wished it had not. The man in the blue shirt had noticed Gwen's movement and had taken his attention away from the men before him to face her, and the price for that mistake was a Sword-Breaker Dagger to his side. His face twisted in pain has his flesh ripped on the rigged teeth on the backside of the dagger. His assailant gave the hilt a simple twist, the motion made him drop to his knees. The Rogue now towered over him, the other two just laughed while the first leaned over his victim's shoulder.
"Boy, we going to enjoy your woman" a crooked smile sprawled across the hooded man's face. A deep and twisted laugh escaped his lips, with that the other two strolled over to Gwen.
Her vision was still weak, she noticed one of the hooded men had a wooden club holstered on his belt; it reflected the torch light as if it was wet. Suddenly she remembered a passionate kiss with the man in blue then she remembered an intense pain as she was stuck violently from behind.
Two of their attackers made their way towards Gwen, her heart racing with each step. the shortest one pulled off the ground forcing her against the cold dark stone wall, all she wanted was to rush to Jacob, to see how badly he was hurt. However, it was for not, she could not over power them. Tears welled in her eyes.
{This is my fault; I had to venture outside the Kingdom's walls.} Her thoughts further broke her will; she focused hard on Jacob's body to see any sign of life.
The man with the club grabbed Gwen by the neck, his leather gloves flexed and stretched from the strain of his fingers wrapping around her throat.
As the hooded man released Jacob's head his body fell to the ground with a thud, her Captures laughed. Jacob's attacker began to move towards Gwen, fear swelled in her.
"Don't you worry, we gonna treat you alright, we will keep you safer than he did". He leaned in and licked her cheek; his breath had a foul scent, like rotting meat.
"Stop struggling lovely. I would hate to damage you; your market value will drop, after all, he wants you undamaged. Nic, you forgetting your Dagger" The other man chuckled while the first Rogued kicked his victim over to the ground.
"It be stuck on his ribs, I'll pull it once he's cold" all three men laughed at his reply, the world began to spin for Gwen, she had lost control of her body. Her knees relaxed, buckling under her own weight. She tried to speak, but her words sounded foreign even to her.
"John, she sounds a bit drunk" Nic grunted towards John who still had his hand firmly around Gwen's neck.
"Well, we gonna find out if she is an easy drunk" John jested as he used his free hand to grasp between her legs.
"We can't devalue her John. That would mean less coins we get. Coin we could use for more experienced and willing Ladies." Nic replied with such an undertone that John knew it was an order given as a suggestion.
John released his hold on Gwen; if it had not been for the third man still holding her she would have fallen to the ground.
"You bossing me around now Nic?" John turned his full body towards Nic. if it had to come down to a blade vs club, Nic knew he would win. He might take a hit or two in the process, but he would win. Nic knew John well; he knew what motived the greedy fool, a challenge and coin. The third Rogue let go of Gwen, she dropped into the mud as he moved forward for the possible spectacle.
"Now John, I am no one's boss; nevertheless, hear me, we turn her over without harm, get paid then steal her back. This way we are all happy"
A cruel smirk rippled across John's face, tapping his forefinger to his lips. John let out a deep laugh
"Well that does sound like a fine idea."
Gwen began to stir on the ground, the clay and mud was cool and soft against her olive colored skin. The inviting smell of trimmed grass reminded her of her youth, playing in the fields before the plague had taken her parents. But all the fond memories of years past melted away when her throat began to burn, she could still feel his hand wrapped firmly around it. Her heart was beating in her ears, and none of this helped her overcome the pain she still felt in her head. She slowly opened her eyes to see her captors had moved closer to the man in blue's body. The three men deep in conversation, she turned her to focus on the fallen man, he had not moved from where he had fallen. Sadness and pain filled Gwen's heart, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember his name. All the head trauma had clouded her memories.
{Surely, he is dead} Tears filled her eyes; panic filled her mind while grief engulfed her heart. Jacob had been a kind man.
"John! Nic! She is awake!" the round man shouted to his partners, with a speed Gwen hadn't expected from him, he was on top of her. He pulled her from the ground, grasping her arms firmly. She had no will to fight; she knew her death served them the least, but that did not mean they would not kill her. She let out a whimper as he forced her back against the outer wall of the kingdom.
"Easy now Marcs" Nic's voice was cold and sharp in its tone.
Abruptly Marcs fell to his knees clutching his stomach as if he had taken a blow to the stomach; he began to scream like a wounded animal, a high pitch scream, one you could hear when pigs were slaughtered within the market.
"What is wrong with you? What's wrong with him?" panic was in John's voice, Nic turned to John, with a simple shrug hysteria and fear sprawled across his face. Marcs' screams turned to a gargling; he began to retch, his skin covered in sweat, with a sharp lurch he began to vomit. Bile spilled to the ground, Gwen stumbled backwards trying to get clear of Marcs. With each belch, his skin seemed to become paler, thinner, almost as if his very life was draining from him. Gwen fell to the ground with a thud, panic and grief replaced with sheer terror. Nic cautiously, moved towards Marcs, he could not keep the fear off his face.
"Marcs? " John choked on his own fear.
Marcs reached out to Gwen, his hand strangely thin, like all the muscles had melted away. She tried to scoot away but his fingers grasped at her dress.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Gwen screamed and kicked at Marcs. His hand tore through her dress; his nails scratched down her leg. She could feel his now boney fingers glide down her leg; she felt it as each of his finger nails peel off. His very flesh falling off in clumps, the bones now exposed caused deep cuts into her leg.
"Help me " Marcs' plea was worthless, his very tongue fell from his mouth to the ground.
He crawled up Gwen's dress; she screamed in horror as his flesh was seemingly rotting from his very bones. No matter how much she tried, she could not get herself to stand. His face rotted; with parts of his skull exposed, he was now just inches away from her face. Gwen watched as his eyes had shriveled, like dried grapes. An intense smell of decay made her instantly want to vomit, or had she caught whatever was affecting him? The remains of his lips were moving, yet he made no sound.
{This is how I am going to die} was the only thought in her mind
The rotting shell of a man opened his mouth slowly, almost like the muscles refused to work, he was with in kissing or biting distance of her face now
{Please God Save ME!!} Her mind was echoing with the plea for help.
4:20am Saturday Gwen's Apartment
Gwen awoke terrified in her bed, her hair tangled with sweat, her lips dry; cottonmouth had taken a firm hold. She looked around the room in a panic, her eyes slowly adjusted the dimly lit room, the curtains swayed in the gentle summer breeze, the sounds of the city echoed in the distance. At the end of the bed, by the window her alarm clock read 0420 in bright red letters, she felt a twinge of discomfort in her stomach, the red letters reminded her of the terror she just faced in her dream.
"Guess I'll get up now." Gwen grumbled to herself.
With a big stretch and a small huff, she slid out of bed, picking up her cellphone from the end table next to her bed. Her brightly colored pajama pants dragged slightly across the floor as she made her way to her bathroom; She still had not shaken off her nightmare, while the details were getting harder to remember the more she woke up, the feeling of unease and terror remained. Her nightmares had become more vivid over the last few months. She was no stranger to nightmares; she had them ever since her youth. She moved from foster home to foster home; the state appointed doctors always blamed the move for her night terrors. However that did not explain why they had lasted well into her 20s. While they used to fade away leaving her without memory of the dream itself, over the last few months she began to remember vivid details. She leaned over the sink, powered on her phone while placing it on the corner of the sink. She turned on the water and waited for it to warm up.
Rain began to fall across the city, at first it came in small droplets, as if it was flirting with the idea of raining, but quickly that became heavy, cold rain from the heavens. The rain bounced off a purple umbrella that was doing all it could to keep its owner and her dog dry. The little old woman just hummed in her yellow raincoat while her small toy breed of a dog sniffed from puddle to puddle looking to find a place to relive himself. The rain fell faster and with greater force, a loud crack of thunder and flash of lightning caused both the old woman and dog to jump.
"Oh dear, snickerdoodle please hurry up. It is not fit out here for either of us" She kindly encouraged snickerdoodle. The little dog turned down a poorly lighted alleyway with his owner in tow.
"Slow down snicker." The dog failed to follow her instruction and picked up his pace even more, he continued until his pace combined with her poor vision and the rain caused her to trip over a pot hole filled with water. The commotion was just enough to make her drop the retractable lease and Snickerdoodle took off further down the alley.
The kindhearted old woman regained her balance, shaking the dirty water from the cuffs of her blue jeans, with a chuckle she followed the little dog. Snickerdoodle stopped just after a large blue dumpster; the fur around his neck raised as he growled and snarled.
"Snickers what is it?" the old woman's joyful stride slowed to a cautious crawl. The closer she got to the dumpster, the more the air filled with a foul stench. Each step became a challenge as odor filled her nose.
"Get away from that dirty old dumpster. I don't want you bringing that smell home....."
Once she cleared the dumpster, her train of thought derailed. Tried as hard as her brain could, it could not register what she was looking at. Terror welled within her; the smell was not from the dumpster.
End Chapter 1
