Kiss of Survivors

Lesley held an angry scowl on his face, one worn by an angry lion being repeatedly poked with a stick. This could have been because of the rough ground on his now bare feet, the stinky dark passage he was walking in or the guy who kept poking him with a stick to move faster.

It was probably the guy with the stick.

He was wearing a construction workers jacket, a cracked yellow helmet and dirty grey shorts on top of ripped trousers. His face was lean, bony actually, from malnutrition and hunger. Beady bloodshot eyes stared at Lesley with dislike and an odd look of lust. What is for was something he did not want to find out.

It was disgusting. HE was disgusting, like his yellow teeth. At least those were the thoughts Lesley had as he walked through dark alleys filled with the stench of stale decay and dry blood. His feet suffered as they moved across abounded streets and places that Lesley had not seen before. They had to hide from zombies occasionally and it took them close to an hour to reach their destination.

It was a grey old warehouse that stood under the cloudy sky, it's visage the perfect picture of a crime mystery. Broken windows covered with old plastic, a grey exterior born from age and not from paint and the fact that this was a mysterious place that he'd never seen made it more creepy.

" We're home." The guy with the stick said and Lesley resisted the urge to cover his nose. This guy has never seen a toothbrush in his life, he thought. It didn't help that everytime he spoke, he'd turn to Lesley and speak right in his face. It was either accidental or on purpose. But then again, he was the one holding the rope binding Lesley's hands.

There were eleven of them, survivors, each one dressed like modern apocalyptic pirates of the Caribbean. He was sure that at least five were men but they could have been all men. Their dressing made it hard to tell their sex, and they all had wild long hair like the baby of a porcupine and a skunk.

It was them that held the three of them captive, with their hands bound by strong rope made from tape tied together. Lesley was in infront, with Mel behind him and last was the woman who had been fleeing from their captors. Lesley had three escorts/guards as did the woman but Mel had six. He'd shown a bit of hostility and the survivors had decided to keep a close eye on him.

But then again, one would think that Lesley would use Mel as a weapon to kill their captors. He was an upper rank zombie with inhuman strength and far surpassed the weak survivors who held them prisoner. Lesley knew he could just say it and Mel would be on them, ripping them apart limb from limb.

But he didn't say anything. Infact he constantly gave Mel glances to see whether he was about to attack or not. His eyes always said one thing; " Don't do anything."

Mel, being complacent but confused, obeyed what Lesley was telling him. He knew he had no right to say anything right then.

Not after what happened the day before.

The group moved quickly to the side of the warehouse, between a large crate and an overturned car. The guards paid particular attention to their surroundings then because they were more exposed than before. The few zombies they had come across, it was a safe two undead women, had been killed as fast as possible. But right then the only cover they had was the overturned car with the crate acting like a wall.

The guy holding Lesley's rope gave it to his teammate and approached the door. He gave two knocks and made a loud kissing sound with his cracked lips. The door opened immediately and they rushed in, practically shoving their prisoners like goats to a slaughter house.

Inside was dark and it took Lesley a while before his eyes got used to the low light. He just followed the pulling of the rope but still he used his ears to listen to the sounds around him. He heard groans and moans but these were not the horrible sounds of zombies. This was not the groan of a lifeless husk seeking to devour on an entity of life but the sound of pain and incessant human suffering. The sounds varied in volume and direction, each seemed to be coming from different locations but they all had one thing in common; they were horrible to hear.

Any one who listened to the sounds would be struck by remorse or pity. It was like walking into a dark hospital room filled with soldiers injured in war, all moaning and groaning in torment. Because one could not see their source, it made it much worse, it was like the darkness was in pain itself or ghost were groaning from the pits of hell.

Lesley shuddered in unease.

Two things were going through his mind at that moment; the first was that they had been bound but not blindfolded. That meant they were not afraid he'd tell about their location to others. He knew they knew he was a squad fighter, one of the savages had punched him in the gut when they'd seen his uniform. That had nearly led to Mel causing a fight and why he had extra body guards.

The second thing was that if they believed he would not share their location, it was because they believed he would not leave. At least not alive. This was his own deduction, not from training though. His training had taught him a lot of things but this was something he'd learnt from Rick.

His mind was drawn back to the present when he was forced to an abrupt halt along with Mel and the woman. Their captors stepped away into the dark and the three of them were left alone. A sudden flash of light shined down on them from the ceiling and his eyes stung from the switch from darkness to brightness.

" Yur, what do I have here?" A voice said from infront of them.

Lesley looked to see a woman sitting/reclining on an old and ugly couch. Although calling her a woman was being generously kind, what most people would say was a giant female ball of flesh wearing lipstick, heavy massacre and a vibrant pink headdress. The woman wore a long yellow dress, the same color as her couch and colourful beads of every imaginable color around her neck . Her feet were bare and on the display, as she reclined like a seductress or at least that's what Lesley assumed she was aiming for.

" Well, Yur!?" She screeched, her voice was like chocolate dipped in oil, slick, sweet and miasmic. She spoke whilst looking to the side and the guy with the yellow helmet came up.

" I found Anastasia Mama and a squad fighter and a young one. I did good?" The guy/Yur had a voice that could make a pig cry for mercy and run to the slaughter house. It grated on the nerves.

" Oh... Anastasia. My baby!" The woman said with heartfelt tenderness, she looked over at the woman next to Mel," Oh dear, my sweet little pie. Why would you run away from you're Mama?"

" I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." The poor woman, who looked older than the blob on the sofa, cried softly whilst looking at the floor in shame. She had been crying since they got caught and only threats of violence had managed to get her to be quiet, unfortunately as soon as they walked through the door, she'd started all over again.

Her face was snot covered and tearstained making it look like the definition of old, sad and ugly. The woman on the sofa placed her two hands on her big bosom and gave a smile that was more pink lips than teeth.

" Oh dear. Is this because of the money you took? Come here dear, come here." The woman/ Mama said and Anastasia slowly moved towards the sofa. Lesley's eyes took in everything, including the six people standing behind the sofa, who he was sure this time were men. Buff, strong and dangerous looking savage men that could kill the woman with one twist of her neck.

But he was looking in the wrong place.

As soon as Anastasia got close, Mama struck like a cobra, her arms moved with a speed that would shock all. Her hand, covered with rings and with nails like talons grabbed Anastasia and brought her right infront of the sofa. The weeping woman fell to her knees in fear and Mama's face turned harsh and cruel, the sweet facade was gone.

" Sweet baby, we had a deal. You work for me, I get my money. It's not ' you work for me and you STEAL from me'." Mama said raising her eyes, they were an pale blue like a dead ocean in hades," Running from Sweet Mama V ain't ever helped anyone. I'm sure you know that, RIGHT!?"

A taloned finger stroked Anastasia's neck and drew a red line on her flesh and a small drop of blood. The woman on her knees had tears in her eyes like a streaming tap and Lesley wondered how she had had the resolve to steal from Mama V in the first place.

" I'm sorry Mama. I'm really sorry. I'll pay you back. I promise." Anastasia begged for her life and Mama V smiled with a sinister glee like a witch.

" Oh, I know you're going to pay me back. Every, last, piece. TIMES TEN!" Another talon landed on Anastasia, aimed for her forehead and the woman screamed as a slash was drawn across her face. It was from her forehead, above her right eye and to her ear. Anastasia covered her face, or tried to with her tied hands but blood still flowed.

" Take her away, Yur. And remember; I want my money, HONEY!" These were the last words that Anastasia heard before Yur grabbed her and dragged her away, he didn't even lift her to her feet. He just grabbed her bound hands and dragged her away into the dark like garbage.

" Now then " Mama V said with a snake like smile," What about you two?"