Chapter 10: Trapped

There were stories told about the world before the war, passed from generation to generation. They were used to help keep history alive, so that both the progress and mistakes of the past wouldn’t be forgotten, as well as a means of comparing each step of the reconstruction movement to the old world. One of the stories most commonly told was of the Internet, the almost magical net of information that supposedly covered the entire globe. All of human knowledge, culture, and entertainment at the tips of everyone’s fingers, it sounded like a dream come true.

The Internet was lost during the war, the machines that supported it either getting destroyed or breaking down with time. Few people with the knowhow to get it going again managed to survive the fifty years of chaos, and to the barely literate born during that conflict, computers were just seen as useless junk. All the knowledge it contained was lost, but there was still hope. The American government had recently started trying to recreate the Internet from scratch and it was showing great promise. Like its predecessor, it was starting out as just a way to transfer information, like news reports and journal articles, but few places had computers capable of accessing the Internet, and most were used for word processing and computing. There was no connectivity or entertainment of any kind as of yet, probably for the best. Perhaps it was better that mankind forget the suffocating omnipotence of social media for a while. It was thanks to the absence of digital all-seeing eye that Dominion’s activities could go unnoticed for so long.

For now, the world relied completely on TV journalism and written news to get information, making Nayara and others of her profession indispensable. Unfortunately, it also put them right in the middle of the danger zone, which the city of Portland had now become. The remnants of the failed Augusta attack had gathered to form a defensive line to hold back Dominion’s forces. They were marching down the highway towards the city, ready to turn it into a second concentration camp. This was only a matter of buying time for the citizens to evacuate.

Their silver and mercury weapons could barely slow the enemy down. The sentinels and hounds were vulnerable, but the hulks would shield them with their metal-coated bodies. And with them was Dominion, riding atop a giant spider, with legs more than a hundred feet long and an abdomen the size of a fuel truck. On the top of its head was a throne made of the skeletons of slaughtered soldiers, a grotesque piece that matched his evil heart perfectly. He had left Blight with running the Augusta prison, Ishtar was at the mansion, and Scourge was continuing to spy on the president, but Adam would be assisting in the taking of the city.

It was fifty miles between the two cities, but Dominion’s minions ran that distance in an hour, not even out of breath. Now they just had to eliminate this pitiful defense. On the other side of the tanks and artillery, reporters from different media companies were trying to record for as long as they could, to inform the world as to what was happening. Most planned to retreat with the army, but several had already run away terrified. Making matters worse, a winter storm from the south was hitting the city inside and out. Sharp winds, stinging cold, blinding snow, the humans had prayed that it would slow down or even deter the invading forces, but nothing seemed to bother them. The undead beasts, their breath fogged, but they did not shiver or show any annoyance to the chill. Dominion himself could no longer be harmed by something as weak as the winter cold. Rather, the only thing it slowed down was the evacuation attempts, but more people had escaped than Dominion was comfortable with.

“Adam.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man replied, walking underneath Dominion’s spider.

“My vultures are reporting that almost half the city has left the area. I’m going to cut off the remainder before they get too far. You handle breaking the defense.”

“As you command.”

Dominion then stood up and took to the air, flying across the sky towards the south with several of his hulks joining him. Seeing the contingent flying right over the city, the soldiers manning the defense realized their attempts were meaningless. It was time to get out while they still could and reform the defense down in Boston. Seeing the soldiers hurriedly packing up and getting into their vehicles, Nayara, still reporting the situation, lowered her microphone and looked at Josh.

“We have to get out of here.”

They hurried back to their van, grateful to be out of the wind, and sped off down the slushy roads towards the city. The highway leading into the city went across a bridge going over the entrance to Back Cove. It had been rigged to blow, and as soon as all the tanks and military vehicles had crossed the bridge, the bombs went off, destroying the bridge and sending the rubble crashing into the frozen ocean. Against a force that could fly, this was hardly a useful act, but if it slowed down the ground troops even a minute, then it was worth the trouble.

An exodus was leaving the city, heading south. The going was slow, due to the congestion and snow, but on the plus side, cars were sliding off the road almost every second. For the people driving behind those cars, it could be considered a lucky break. Nayara and the rest of the news crews were flanked by tanks, Humvees, and Strykers. They tried to keep up, stay hidden in their convoy, but up ahead, they could see the sea of cars, the back of the traffic jam. They were abandoned, the people inside taking their chances on foot.

At the head of the military convoy was a tank, and rather than slowing down when it reached the gridlock, it sped up and began smashing its way in between the cars, pancaking and tossing them aside. Nayara and Josh couldn’t see it from where they were in the convoy, but once they started passing the wrecked vehicles, it dawned on them what the tank operator was doing. He had to have lost his mind, running over cars like this. As they reached the center of the mass, many of the destroyed cars had visible blood splatters on the inside and outside. The tank operator didn’t care how many people got in his way, he’d run over anyone to escape the devils now entering the city. In the backs of their minds, Nayara and Josh were grateful. As long as that madman drove, the convoy had a way out, and they had a chance of escaping.

With Nayara behind the wheel, Josh kept his camera going, filming everything. Outside, people were running for their lives. They faced straight into the blizzard rather than try their luck against the invading force, but it seemed they didn’t have a choice in the matter. Dominion’s vultures, along with various other flying nightmares, were swooping down and grabbing the terrified people like a crane game.

“Oh my God,” Nayara gasped as she looked in the rearview mirror. “What is that?!” The view in front of them was white from the snow, but behind them, it was utter darkness.

Josh opened his window and leaned out with his camera. “Holy shit!” he screamed.

Nayara dared a look of her own. Following their convoy was a tornado, titanic in size, blocking out the whole horizon, and black as the ace of spades. It wasn’t just wind, there were shapes in the storm, it had a physical texture, rather resembling a plague of locusts, and unholy lightning crackled in its folds and ripped across the sky. People running through the snow shrieked in terror as the winds seized them and dragged them into its confines. Vehicles were also taken, but as they were enveloped by the tornado, the people inside were pulled out as if by invisible hands and the empty cars and trucks were tossed aside like garbage.

It moved across the sea of cars like a giant vacuum cleaner, grabbing everyone within reach. Even the military vehicles were being lifted into the air, the soldiers inside dragged out and left to fly helplessly in the storm. Despite the roar of the wind, their screams were crystal clear. They were the survivors of the Augusta battle and had seen the horrors of Dominion’s forces, seen fellow soldiers dismembered and consumed. When they got the order to retreat, they thought they were safe, they thought they had escaped the Devil. They were wrong.

The darkness spread across the sky, corrupting the pure whiteness of the snowstorm. More tornados were forming ahead, with the black lightning arching between them like electrodes. For the desperate souls still fleeing capture, Dominion’s evil was enveloping the world around them, blurring the line between nightmare and reality.

Her foot on the gas like a lead weight, Nayara felt hope pour from her like blood from a wound. This was something that the human race simply couldn’t oppose, it was a power that mocked every accomplishment, tragedy, and conflict in history, rendering everything outside its existence moot. She didn’t even know why she was still driving, as hope had abandoned her. Then, the news van began to rise in the air, and she and Josh were taken.

It was the sound of sobbing that woke Nayara up, the fearful cries of women, children, and even a few men. The feeling of cold concrete against her face made it easy to forsake her sleep, but as soon as she raised her head, searing pain on her cheek made her crave that stone chill. She slowly pushed herself up and looked around. She was in a dark corridor, filled with people likewise slumped down on the floor. There was just enough light coming from around the corner to see their shapes. How had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was the news van being lifted up into that black tornado. The doors were ripped off and hands formed in the darkness and grabbed her.

She looked to a weeping man a few feet from her. “Do you know where we are?”

He didn’t respond, probably had no clue.

She tentatively touched her cheek and hissed in pain. It was like someone had taken a scalpel and carved their name into her flesh. She could feel the ridges of symbols, a brand?

She got to her unsteady feet and started walking down the corridor, trying to avoid stepping on anyone. She wandered the halls, finding nothing but more and more people scared and bewildered. There were no windows and the walls and floor were made of concrete, with dim lighting giving it a dingy feeling. Pipes in the ceiling told her that she was underground.

Up ahead was a crowd pushing their way up a flight of stairs, trying to reach a light at the top like vines coveting the sunlit trees. Nayara entered the crowd, doing her best to slip in between people and get ahead. Clumsy and even lecherous hands brushed against her body, but she ignored them, focusing on getting out of the dank tunnel.

At last, she managed to break out, along with everyone at the front of the crowd, but the light that met them was less inviting than they had hoped. They had left the stairwell and stepped out onto the floor of a massive corridor, with rooms on either side, featuring large display windows. Wait, was this the Maine Mall? It had been built before the war, just south of the city, and used as a shelter for survivors during the zombie pandemic. In the chaos years after, it served as the base of a warlord. The US army crushed his empire, but the remains helped build the foundation of the mafia that Lee Misato would eventually take over.

It had been mostly abandoned since then, but renovations had started the previous month to turn it back into a shopping center. It was due to reopen sometime next year. The entire place was packed full of people, at levels beyond the fabled Black Friday crowds from the old world. Was the entire city crammed into this building? What in the world was going on? The only illumination came from the security lights, but most were broken and the ones that worked were few and far between, and were painfully dim, with most people reduced to shadows and silhouettes. Wait, the people around her, she could see come kind of code burned onto their cheeks, a series of numbers. They had been branded? She felt her cheek, the throbbing wound. She had been given an ID number like everyone else.

In the security office stood Dominion, looking at the surveillance monitors with a smirk of accomplishment on his face. Every entrance, exit, window, and air vent had been locked, barricaded, and welded over, with all of his undead guards sticking to the outside.

Before the war, the city had a population of over sixty thousand people. One hundred years later, it was half that, and half of that remainder had managed to escape, leaving him with around fifteen thousand. Five thousand were being shipped back to Augusta, the remaining ten staying in a few choice buildings until a proper prison could be constructed. The mall could originally accommodate a several hundred shoppers going about their business, but when all available floor space in the building was added in and everyone given just enough room to lie down, the number of people it could contain jumped into the thousands. It was like a big game of Tetris.

The question was how to entertain himself until everything was put into place and all of his prisoners were processed and locked in their new concentration camp. He thought back to the citizens of Augusta. Aside from the men’s riot on the first day, all had been quiet, no one put up a fight or tried to escape. Their spirits had been broken early on, which, while efficient and beneficial for his operation, made things rather boring. Maybe he’d give these people a little room to breathe, figuratively, of course.

Blight was in the prison maternity ward at Augusta, checking on the breeding stock. Thanks to the breeding program, almost half to the female prisoners were now pregnant. The expecting mothers were cuffed to hospital beds, their new home for the rest of their lives. They had catheters and colostomy bags installed to collect their various wastes, meaning there was no need to get up and go to the bathroom, and to make sure they wouldn’t try to starve themselves to death, a feeding tube was inserted down their throats, making them eat almost constantly.

They were also hooked up to breast pumps, to make sure any milk produced could be saved and used later, as none of the babies would be breastfed. They were dosed with drugs to speed up the development of the fetuses, and thanks to the fertility medications, many of the women were having more than one child. With the captured doctors monitoring their health for things like sores and infections, the chances of death or complications were next to none, ensuring a bountiful harvest. Half of the children would be killed for their souls and the rest would be processed as the next generation of slaves, while the women would be impregnated once stable and the process would begin all over again.

Blight stopped at the bed of one woman and checked her chart. She was having triplets, which begged the question of the fate of the third. The glory of enslavement by Lord Dominion, or the honor of being harvested for its soul? Seeing him, seeing his nonexistent face as he read her chart with empty eye sockets, the woman screamed through her feeding tube and pulled at her restraints. All the women were conscious, both to help keep an eye on their health, and to aid in the poltergeist program. These women lay in bed 24/7, forced to suffer the pain and humiliation of being used as incubators. That despair would help develop poltergeists and further add to Dominion’s collection of spirits.

‘Blight.’

He looked up, receiving a telepathic message. ‘Yes, Lord?’

‘Send me a bus full of the new guards. Time to give them some field experience.’

‘It will be done.’

“Adam.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m withdrawing the spawn from guard duty, they’ll be in charge of constructing my prison and gathering supplies. We’ll be using human guards to watch these people, about one bus-full.”

“Forgive my impudence, sir, but will that be enough?”

“No, that’s the point. I want to see if these people have the guts to try and escape. With only human guards watching over them, they’ll work up the courage to resist me, unlike the Augusta prisoners who have been browbeaten by the presence of the spawn. I’ll give them chances to entice them and stressors to enrage them, and hopefully they’ll give me a good show.” He then pressed several buttons on the control panel and picked up the announcer’s mic. “People of Portland,” he said, with his voice being heard throughout the entire mall. “My name is Dominion, and you are now my prisoners. You will be held here while my minions construct a proper prison. Food and supplies will be given, but the task of distributing them will be left to you. Attempts to escape will be punishable by death, but that is the only act that is prohibited. Other than that, do as you please.”

He then turned to Adam. “All these people packed so tightly that they can barely move, what do you think will happen? Will they devour each other? Will they work together to survive? Under conditions like these, it’s easy to—” he stopped and looked at one of the monitors. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Adam, bring me that woman.”

“Which one?”

“The black one, tan coat, standing by the entrance to the basement, see her?”

“Ah, I see her. Yes sir.”

“I’ll be out front, meet me there.”

Nayara flailed and screamed as Adam carried her over his shoulder. He smashed through the wall of the old Macy’s, and the people that tried to rush past him to freedom were knocked back with bone-breaking kicks. He then snapped his fingers and the hole in the wall was repaired. Outside, the sound of the city was gone, no engines humming, no horns blaring, it was all replaced with demolition and chaos. The spawn were going to work, gutting the buildings of their interiors, with useless items tossed out for trash collection, and things like food and supplies brought to the stadium.

Nayara was set down on her feet before Dominion. “Nayara Runihura, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. I watch you on the news almost every night.” She trembled from his words. There was no need to introduce himself, she recognized his voice. He was Dominion, the man that commanded those unholy beasts, the man that had conjured that black tornado. “I must say, you are even more beautiful in person, but I want to see how beautiful you really are. Take off your clothes.”

She was petrified with fear, but instinctively shook her head, some part of her refusing to let go of her pride. That part knew what was coming, what awaited her if she obeyed.

“You dare refuse an order by the Master?!” Adam boomed.

“Adam, calm yourself. Ms. Runihura, I’ll repeat myself: take off your clothes. I suggest you do it, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to calm my subordinate’s rage a second time if you continue to resist.”

Trying to hold back tears, she gave in and began removing her clothes with trembling hands. It was deathly cold outside, and each harsh wind stalled her movements, but soon, she was naked before him. She shivered and clutched herself, trying not ignore the feel of Dominion’s gaze licking her ebony body. She still had her boots on, with her pants and underwear around her ankles, but he seemed willing to grant her that allowance. He walked around her, getting a full view. She yelped as she felt him slap her on the ass, and then started to whimper as he roughly groped one of her breasts.

“Oh yes, you’ll do nicely.” He then grabbed her face, examining her ID number. All the people inside had been branded, but their roles as Workers, Laborers, and Breeders had yet to be determined, so they all received the designation of P, for ‘Prisoner’, though they’d be rebranded after processing. Dominion dragged his thumb across her number, making her shriek as he titled her S004, his fourth slave.

He turned to Adam. “Take her to the mansion. Tell Ishtar I want her fully broken in by the time I get back. I’ll be staying here until the new prison is complete and everyone is processed.” Nayara shuddered, the phrase “broken in” filling her mind with horrific visions of violence and humiliation. “You can put your clothes on now. I suggest you enjoy them while you still have them, because once you arrive at the mansion, you’ll never wear clothes again.”

Josh wandered through the mall, searching for Nayara while trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his cheek. He wanted to call out to her, but everyone else was doing the same, desperate to find their loved ones. The air in the building was stifling from countless pacing bodies, but there seemed to be enough oxygen, though barely. He wanted to remove his coat, but he was afraid of it getting stolen. The place was certainly eerie.

The renovation work was in its infancy, just making sure that the building kept out the elements and had water and power, but little actual cleaning had been done, so it was, messy to say the least. Most of the glass displays had been broken decades ago, and every store had been repeatedly looted until nothing remained. The floor tiles were rotten from endless years of exposure to the elements and all the paint was peeling. The skylights had been boarded up to keep out the snow, but the regular lights weren’t working either, just the emergency lights. This place was basically a dungeon.

“Yo, Josh!”

“Mike!”

A skinny man called out to him from down one of the corridors. He was a fellow cameraman from a rival news company, who occasionally bought pot from him.

“Man, am I glad to see you,” said Josh.

“I can’t say the same. I’d hoped you managed to get away. How’d they grab you?”

“Nayara and I got caught in that black tornado. You?”

“One of those flying fuckers grabbed me. Is she here?”

“I don’t know. She should be, but I can’t find her.”

“I managed to find a few others from the business, come on.”

Josh followed Mike through the crowds, but they never seemed to part. The people of the city were packed like sardines. After a lot of shoving and shimmying, they arrived at the old Apple store, where a few other men were waiting. They all worked on the news and often met on the scene.

“I found another,” said Mike.

“Welcome to our little corner, want a tour?” asked a field reporter, smoking a cigarette. Wade, he had become a real prick since getting that toupee, despite the fact that everyone in the business knew about it.

“Is anyone else here?” Josh asked.

“I found Peggy, but she ran into the bathroom to cry,” said another man, Chris. Peggy was another field reporter, like Nayara.

“So what now?” asked Keagan, the third man.

“Well you fags can stay here and enjoy your little group suck fest, but I’m going to find a way out,” said Wade.

“You saw what those things can do, and you heard that Dominion guy. If we get caught trying to escape, we’re dead,” Josh shot back.

“So I just have to not get caught. I haven’t seen any guards, no one is watching us. Anyone want to join me?” No one answered. “All right. Good talk, cupcake.” He then dropped his cigarette to the floor and moved past him.

“He does have a point, though,” said Chris. “No one is watching us. Now, for all we know, there could be an army of those things outside, waiting to kill us, but it still might be a good idea to find a way out for when the shit hits the fan.”

“It’s not like we have anything better to do,” Josh muttered.

The four men split up, searching for any means of escape. Their first priority were the doors. There were exits and entrances at the end of every corridor, as well as at the back of the largest stores. However, Josh and the others hadn’t anticipated how many people would have the same idea. One of the first stages of renovation had been installing new glass doors at the exits and entrances, easy enough to get through, but all the security gates had been lowered and were reinforced with layers of plywood and sheet metal, without even letting air or light pass through.

At every door, impatient men were pushing and pulling against these barriers with everything they had. The slamming of their bodies and their frustrated shouts were nerve-racking. The people around them either cheered them on or pleaded with them to stop, that only death awaited if they managed to get through. No matter what they tried, the barricades wouldn’t even flex, like there were brick walls behind them. For all they know, the army’s tanks could have been on the other side, used as doorstops.

Next, were the windows, which were few and far between in a mall, and likewise boarded up and fenced with heavy steel bars. The glass couldn’t even be broken to let in fresh air, and there wasn’t the faintest glimmer of sunlight getting through. Even the air vents were blocked off, restricted just for AC and circulation. The construction crews hadn’t done this, this was all put into place in order to keep the people trapped. How on Earth had this place been sealed shut so quickly? With nothing to show for their work, the men all regrouped at the Apple store.

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”

Two words, but they summed up the situation perfectly. What were they supposed to do now?

“This is Nayara, a new slave,” Ishtar purred while addressing Mary and the twins. Nayara had been brought to the mansion, and seeing the three naked women before her, she had a good idea as to what awaited her. “Now, one of the rules of the Master’s house is that slaves cannot wear clothing unless granted permission. Strip.”

Nayara obeyed, having lost her shame after doing it the first time, and relieved that she was at least around fellow women. But as she tossed her clothes to floor, Ishtar struck the back of her knee with her tail, sending her falling to all fours. “Is that how you behave in your Master’s home? Just throwing your clothes aside like garbage for someone else to pick up? Those clothes are the property of Lord Dominion, as well as the floor. You disgrace them both and the Master with your shoddy behavior!”

As Nayara was scolded, Mary had a slight smirk on her face, feeling a sense of superiority she had missed for so long. On the other hand, Cho and Hijiri were solemn, wishing they could comfort the new arrival. They knew what she was in for, and it seemed to get worse by the day. They thought just being Dominion’s fuck slaves was bad enough, but Ishtar was a whole new nightmare. Her zealotry was unbearable, making her demand absolute perfection from the women and punishing them when they failed to deliver.

Before Nayara arrived, the three of them had been cleaning the house, to ease Ishtar’s rage from the “squalid conditions” they seemed to expect their Master to dwell in. They were in the process of scrubbing, vacuuming, and sanitizing every square inch of the house and every single object inside. They were on the third day, no breaks, only halfway done. A single speck of dust would earn her wrath.

Nayara was currently learning a lesson that had been ingrained into their souls. Before the cleaning, Ishtar made the three of them put on and remove clothes for hours, just in case Dominion ever allowed them to wear outfits and then wanted them to strip for him. The point was that they had to fold and take care of their clothes while they took them off, but do it quickly enough that she didn’t feel like they were making Ishtar wait. She caned the bottoms of their feet if they did something to displease her.

“Now, I’m going to be busy training her until the Master returns. However, should you slack off while I’m fulfilling my duties, you will know true pain. Now you, on your feet. It’s time for you to be cleansed.”

Mary and the twins shuddered at the last word. Their own “cleansing” never got any easier, no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. Her face soon to be wet from the shower, but currently wet from her tears, Nayara followed Ishtar upstairs with her clothes. They were left in the laundry room and she was pulled into the master bathroom and forced into the shower.

Nayara cried out from the stinging cold of the water, but soon enough, it was scalding hot. Ishtar got in the shower with her, forcing her to lean against the wall like she was going to be searched. “You reek of the outside world, the stench of the ignorant masses that don’t know or appreciate the greatness of Lord Dominion.” She scrubbed Nayara’s face with her hand and then jammed her fingers in her mouth, making Nayara choke.

“You slaves infuriate me to no end with your laziness, your selfishness. You are granted the attention of Lord Dominion, yet you think you can wallow like pigs in mud.” She then removed her fingers and forced them inside Nayara’s pussy, making her scream in agony. She had never been grabbed so roughly before, and never been touched by a woman like this.

“No hymen? Disgusting. I don’t understand why the Master wastes his patience on you filthy whores.” She forced Nayara down onto all fours, sobbing with her face pressed to the drain. She didn’t dare move as Ishtar grabbed a dish sponge and a bottle of industrial-strength body wash. She poured a long blue streak across Nayara’s ebony back and began scrubbing with the rough side of the sponge, drawing fresh cries from her victim. “I have to wash the slut off you, I have to wash away the sin. Only then will you truly be deserving of his kindness, a proper receptacle of his glorious seed.”