Caged (Troy Otto x OC)

Chapter 3

I had only been asleep for what felt like an hour before I was startled awake by tape going over my mouth and a bag going over my head. The darkness of the night got darker, and my hope of escaping dwindled when I felt the zip ties pin my wrists behind my back. I did my best to struggle against my captors, kicking in every direction as they carried me away from my campsite. I think I landed a good kick to someone's jaw or nose, because I felt a decent crack under my boot and he yelled out in pain, but his grip didn't loosen at all.

"Dumb bitch kicked me." A man's voice bellowed, with the slight twinge of an accent.

Another lower pitched voice laughed, "For such a small thing she sure has a lot of power behind those kicks."

"If you think it's so funny, you can carry her legs and get kicked."

"Nah, I'm good. But I wouldn't mind seeing her rock your shit again."

"Shut the hell up, man."

Continuing to struggle, I kept thinking about how much I would fuck them both up if givin the chance. I wouldn't even hesitate in killing them if it came down to my life or theirs. I know how that sounds. I am a heartless bitch. I know. This is what trying to survive in an apocalypse turns you into.

A week after I was separated from my dad, I killed my first human. I wouldn't classify the walkers as humans anymore. They are dead. The first human I killed was trying to take advantage of me because I was a young girl and I was alone. He likely would have left me for dead. I had to kill him in order to save myself. Since then, It has gotten easier to compartmentalize human kills. 13. I have had to kill 13 humans in the past 3 months. I have lost count of how many walkers I have killed.

If I had to, I would not be afraid to up that number to 15.

I stopped fighting inorder to conserve energy. These men were much larger than me, and I couldn't afford to waste my strength on them right now. Not when I have no idea what is coming next. Right now I need to come up with a plan, and take inventory.

My captors are most likely from the military base at the bottom of the ridge. This means they definitely have basic tactical and military experience. It was likely that their strong suit is in guns and not hand to hand combat. If I was going to have any chance of fighting them off I would need to take them out at a close proximity. I may get a chance, assuming there aren't snipers perched all over the base.

What happened next stunned me a little bit and threw off my train of thought. I was dropped hard into what feels like the bed of the truck. I feel the truck bed sink down as one man climbs up and digs his boot into my back, a little too hard. I am assuming this is the one that I kicked in the face.

The other man climbs up and starts patting me down. Stripping me of all of my weapons. Well, visible weapons. I assume they had already taken my rifle and my katana from the spot where they laid next to me while I slept. The man with the lower pitched voice pulled the machete out of the sheath on my hip, the three hunting knives off of each thigh and my calf, as well as the glock tucked in the back of my jeans. He also searched my pockets and came up with extra ammo and a switchblade. Just wait till they take a look at my backpack.

"Jesus Christ, this girl is strapped."

"Oh I want that switchblade!" I hear the sound of the switchblade flying open.

"God damn it, Willy! No, Troy is going to want inventory of everything she had on her. Including the switchblade."

I make a mental note about the one with the slight accent being named Willy and I imagine Troy must be their leader. I also relished in the thought of still having a knife hidden in my boot.

"Okay, I think I got everything off of her."

As if that was a que, Will took his boot off of my back. Big mistake, seeing as I rolled onto my back, hands still zip tied, and used all my force to kick upwards. I still wasn't able to see, but the high pitched groan told me I had hit my intended target. He drops to his knees next to me, I assume holding his jewels. The other man tries to hide his laugh with a burly cough, before saying "Sorry, sweetheart."

A second later I knew what he was sorry for. He used the butt of his rifle and hit me hard in the temple with it. I faded out of consciousness quickly, but not before hearing the truck starting.