Keep Close

Tear Them Apart

Enid tried her very, very hardest to not start hyperventilating in front of her captors. Sure, Enid was tough; she always had been since the start of the apocalypse, but there was something about these men, Carl's wound, and the haunting feeling that these men didn't plan on just getting information out of her that just made her want to pass out and wake up when it was all over.

"Well, little lady, what do ya have to say for yourself?" Tom impatiently asked.

One of the men began tapping on his gun while waiting for her to answer. Instead of answering the question, she just stared blankly at the man, Pete, going over to "fix" Carl's arm. In Pete's arms, he carried rope, a bandana, a needle, liquor, and thread. He crouched down next to Carl's limp body and began tying him to the tree with the rope.

"Please, Carl. Please be ok," Enid cried in her head.

When Pete finished binding Carl, he forced the poor kid's jaws open and placed the bandana in-between his teeth. He proceeded to tie the bandana behind the young sheriff's messy, brown hair. He took off Carl's jacket by cutting the right sleeve of his jacket off, revealing Carl's blue, bloody shirt. Enid sighed with relief when she saw the cut after Pete cut Carl's sleeve off. The bleeding had slowed even more, but Carl's slow breathing indicated that he was on his way out. Suddenly, Enid's thoughts were interrupted with something hot and hard coming across her face. Enid turned her gaze to see what had struck her. Her lower lip spewed blood for a second onto Tom's jacket. Tom licked his dry lips and rubbed his hands together, the sting of the slap he'd delivered lingering in his fingers.

"I'm gettin' tired of waiting for you to answer. Where in God's name is your camp?" he barked. Thin streams of blood and tears tricked down Enid's dirty face.

"Finish taking care of Carl. Then, we'll talk."

His thin eyes were dark gray under his bushy eyebrows. Pete was just about to start stitching Carl's arm up when Tom yelled at him.

"Pete! Hold it right there until I tell you to continue."

Tom looked back at Enid with an evil glint in his eyes.

"Now you listen here, girl. If you want Carl and you to live, then you best answer my questions!"

He pulled some rope from a backpack.

"Sam! Grab this rope and tie it around this little wrench's hands. Tie her feet, too. I'm gettin' tired of looking at Jarod gripping her."

Quickly, the fifth man from the creek did as he was told. Enid struggled against the scrawny man and would've gotten away, but the gun against her head and Jarod's strong arms said otherwise.

"Let go of me, douche bag!" Enid cursed.

Her teeth were gritted and her face was flushed with anger, but as much as she struggled, the two men were able to push her to the ground. She lay with her hands tied behind her and her feet tucked in. Tom bent over and coldly looked at Enid.

"It's funny. You struggled even with a gun against your head. I wonder why that'd be?" Tom asked.

"You can't kill me until you've gotten you answer," Enid stated.

"True. Which is why I'll ask you one last time: where...is...your...camp?" Tom questioned as he leaned over to intimidate her.

From her position on the ground, Enid looked over at Pete and Carl with tears and blood still streaming down her face. She stared at Tom with pure hatred. All she wanted to do was stab him repeatedly until he bled out.

With teeth still gritted, she shakily whispered, "It's a couple miles that way." She motioned with her head, leaves in her hair.

Tom licked the front of his teeth and smiled greedily.