Zombie survivor

[45] The auction

The next morning, Chloe, Brittney, Akira, and Ms. Heather were woken up by the sharp clanking of metal against the bars of their cages. A few rough-looking men entered the room, and without a word, began securing heavy iron shackles around each of their wrists and ankles, the metal cold and unforgiving against their skin. The girls exchanged fearful glances, realizing this was just the beginning of whatever hell they were about to be put through.

Chloe hissed as the shackles dug into her wrists. "You really think this is necessary?" she snapped, but her captors ignored her, yanking the chains tight.

Ms. Heather, always trying to keep her composure, whispered softly, "Just stay calm, Chloe. Let's get through this without making it worse for ourselves."

They were herded down a dark corridor, the damp smell of mildew and sweat lingering in the air. At the end of the hallway, they stepped into an old, grimy auditorium, the only light coming from flickering backup generators that cast eerie shadows across the room. Rows of makeshift seats filled the space, packed with a rough-looking crowd of men and women, their faces illuminated by the dim lights. The audience murmured in anticipation, their eyes fixed hungrily on the stage.

Chloe took a shaky breath, her stomach twisting as she saw the greedy, cold expressions on the faces staring back at them. Beside her, Akira's usually shy demeanor was replaced by a rigid, intense glare, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line as she scanned the crowd.

A loudspeaker crackled, filling the auditorium with a screech before Joe's voice boomed over the system. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New Vegas's finest auction. Today, we're offering some fresh, top-quality merchandise. Now, let's start the bidding."

One of Joe's goons grabbed Akira, pushing her forward. She stumbled onto the stage, her petite frame dwarfed by the chains around her wrists and ankles. She wore a skimpy nurse costume—clearly meant to appeal to the crowd—but instead of looking meek or terrified, her expression was dark and intense, her eyes blazing as she glared out at the audience. Her long, dark hair fell around her face, adding to her almost sinister look as she scowled at the crowd, her intense gaze enough to send a shiver through the room.

Joe stepped forward, microphone in hand, a grin plastered on his face. "First up, we've got a real treat for you. Young, strong, and with a bit of fire in her. A little... stubborn, maybe, but we all know that can be worked out with the right approach." He shot a smug glance at Akira, who returned his look with a cold, burning hatred.

"Starting bid is five liters of fuel or equivalent goods," Joe announced, his voice ringing out over the crowd.

The audience murmured, several people looking intrigued but hesitant. Akira's glare seemed to pierce through anyone who dared to make eye contact with her, and her unsettling, intense expression made some look away uncomfortably.

"Anyone?" Joe prompted, his tone a bit more irritated as he surveyed the room.

A man at the back raised his hand, though he looked unsure. "Two liters, maybe?" he offered, eyeing Akira warily.

Joe's smile tightened, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Two liters? We're not at a yard sale, folks. Let's hear some real offers."

Akira's expression only grew darker, her glare almost daring anyone to buy her. Several in the audience shifted uncomfortably, the eerie Yandere-like intensity of her gaze clearly unnerving them. One by one, they looked away, unwilling to meet her eyes. Joe's face twitched with irritation as he realized he'd miscalculated the appeal of Akira's "look."

"Alright, final offer," he growled, lowering the starting price even further. "Two liters. Take it or leave it."

The room fell silent. No one raised their hand.