Captured

Chapter 1

2 years ago:

"Rose!" I screamed, choking on my own salted tears. I darted into the bathroom and snatched up one of the old moth-eaten cloths from the side of the sink. With a trembling hand, I held the cloth beneath the sludgy water spurting from the tap. "Rose!" I called again with a weak, shaky voice.

After my wails were met with silence, I rushed back into my mother's bedroom, wincing at the sharp coughs wracking from her chest. Small spots of crimson liquid splashed her once crisp white handkerchief clutched in her frail, bony hand. "Mama, please." I begged, the tears spilling from my eyes and dropping onto the old sheets I earlier pulled up over her thin body.

"Kathrine? What is it?" My elder sister asked as she spilled into the room, clutching her handkerchief to her watery eyes.

I glanced back to my mother who was writhing beneath the smelly damp towel I had pressed to her forehead. "Papa insisted she take care of him," I whispered through my blubbers, "She caught the disease."

Rose shook her head, stepping further into the room. "No," she sobbed, "no she can't."

"Babies," my mothers croaky voice called out. Her colour had paled rapidly from her silky ivory shade to thin, paper white flakes. Two sunken eyes peeled open and blinked up at me, the whites streaked with red and her usual sparkling blue irises were dulled to a cloudy grey. "Babies, you have to go," she murmured in her cracked voice.

I shook my head furiously, willing back the tears as I protested. "No!" I flitted my terror filled gaze between my mother and sister, begging my two idols to miraculously cure my mother and swoop me away to safety. "No, we aren't leaving you mama!"

"You have to, you can't stay without getting sick."

My sore, crusty eyes blurred from the tears building up in them. It seemed I was producing the tears faster than they could pour down my cheeks. My heart ached at my mothers' words. "She is right Kathrine, we need to leave before we catch the disease," my sister – always the more rational one - explained soothingly, pulling me gently away from where my mother started to hack up phlegm and blood.

"Go," she ordered harshly before rolling away from us, terminating the conversation.

I begged and pleaded and cried while I was dragged from the woman who birthed me, fed me, cradled me, held me while I cried, chased away my fears and protected me from my father's wrath on multiple occasions. Rose shushed me softly, whispering reassuring words in my ear while she pulled me into the kitchen.

Instantly, the stench of rotting corpse slammed into my nostrils, like old meat left out in the sun too long. The greying flesh of my father's slumping body was the source of the aroma. A scream pierced the silence and it took moments until I realised it was mine. One arm lay across his still chest while the other stretched across the grubby tiles, his clawed hand reaching for something. His lips were parted in a plead when his heart stopped beating and they were now a faded blue colour, a trail of dried drool and blood slipping from them and down his chin.

Although he had died days ago, we had neither the time or the resources to remove him. We simply left him laying on the cold tiles while he rotted away. Unlike with my mother, I couldn't bring myself to mourn the loss of my father. While he was my parent, he was cold hearted, hateful and violent. I had never been close with him due to the severe differences in our opinions. He had brought my sister and I up to believe women were simply pets to their male superiors and he only solidified it when he demanded my mother nurse and serve him until she could no longer stand.

With a heavy sigh, I collapsed against my sister and allowed her to lead me into the cellar where my father's hunting weapons resided. She handed me one of the large rifles and I was surprised at the heavy weight in my hands. "Just in case," she whispered, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly. "I have the map of a safe place where women are fleeing ok? We will head there straight away."

I nodded mutely, following her out the broken, rotting front door to our small cottage tucked away on the outskirts of town. Immediately, musky, thick air choked me and I cringed as the stench of death grew more pungent. Bodies scattered the dusty roads and the town was eerily silent with only the occasional scream of agony indicating there was life amongst the clusters of broken buildings and abandoned vehicles.

I splashed through puddles of blood, feeling the still warm liquid slosh between my exposed toes, staining my ratty sandals. My numb heart quickly thumped in my chest at the quick pace that we escaped the small town. "We need supplies," Rose explained, slowing to a stop in front of me.

I glanced up at the large manor looming over us, casting a cold shadow over the sandy floor. Several of the windows were shattered and sharp slices of glass littered the ground. The mansion appeared to be deserted and desolate, however I hated the thought of going even closer. "Come on, there will be plenty of supplies in there," Rose said, taking long strides across the overgrown front lawn.

"We can't steal," I argued, tugging on her arm to slow her approach.

"Kathrine, we need to do whatever it takes to survive. This disease is wiping out the population like the wind blows over matchsticks, if we want to survive, we need to get away from everyone and to do that, we need supplies."

I nodded silently, not willing to argue my case any further at the risk of fighting with my sister. At the end of the day, I knew she was right and the small amount of the remaining population were all causing riots trying to fight for their lives. According to the newspaper, nearly 80% of men had already been wiped out and only 5% were capable of leaving their beds at this point. Scientists were already collecting any healthy sperm they could to contain until the disease was removed so we could continue the human race later on but women were quickly catching the male sickness and were now falling like flies.

Thankfully, the house was empty although it only added to the creepy aura of the place. Wonky photos hung from the walls of the same two men with women kneeling before them naked or handcuffed to the furniture at the men's feet. I shuddered as the eyes of the scariest man followed me through the room in a painting where he held the girl's hair around his fist while her blood stained his boots. "Sadistic bastards," my sister hissed, tossing one of the painting aside.

Behind it stood a small door which she peeled open to reveal a hole filled with guns and rifles. "Grab them," Rose ordered, pushing past me to the kitchen. I carefully scooped up the guns, checking the magazines for bullets and followed my sister through the house.

She tossed me a large black bag while she filled her own with cans of food and bottles of water. She added a can opener, some packets of something, a first aid kit and some slightly large but clean clothes. "Are you ready?" she asked me.

"I guess," I murmured in response.

"Were going to be ok," she promised me, pulling me against her and resting her chin on my head. "I swear." I nodded in reply, feeling a little more optimistic knowing that whatever we would face, we would face together. Hand in hand, my sister and I stepped out of the abandoned manor and into a world with a terminal disease spreading like wildfire, chaotic riots between the sick and dying, scattered bodies swarming the trenches either side of the dusty roads and the scorching heat threatening to sizzle through our skin