Chapter 4

It was getting dark. The cereal was half gone and the water pressure had died alarmingly. Marla had managed to get the plug in the sink and filled it, so she had that much. The rope tight around her neck prevented her from moving her hands in front of her body. With her hands behind her she couldn't undo the chain. The cupboards and drawers she'd managed to open didn't hold anything she could use to free herself. She'd tried using her body weight to yank the leash free, but all she'd managed to do was make herself pass out.

She still heard occasional gunfire, and once there had been a scream quite nearby. Twice, cars drove by on the street. She could see them out the window, but if they saw her, they didn't stop. Both cars were trailed by groups of walking dead. They didn't seem to notice her either.

Reluctantly, she gave up trying to free herself. In the morning, she might not ache quite so much, and she could try again. She was safe enough for now. Besides, he might come back and let her out. It was ironic, her desire to be held had only increased as time wore on, but she doubted he had the willpower to make her beg for him. If he had been more of a man, he could have just taken her. It wasn't like she'd been in any shape to do something about it. But if he'd been more of a man, he wouldn't have had to. If he had shown her any consideration, she probably would have been grateful enough to do what he wanted. She would have died of thirst if he hadn't come along.

A deep cleansing breath helped ease her anxiety. Stressing about possibilities wouldn't help her prepare for them. She didn't have energy to waste on might-have-beens either. What she needed to do now was rest, recover as best she could from dehydration and her injuries. Every advantage she could give herself would be needed if she was going to get out of this situation.

It was getting dark. The streetlight and full moon the night before had provided plenty of light in the kitchen, She was glad he hadn't left the lights on. Marla lay down on the blanket, and gripping it with her hands and feet, rolled to cover herself. Despite the furnace, it she had been cold the night before. She would have to watch herself, Stockholm syndrome was kicking in, she was grateful he'd given her a blanket.

Sleep was a long time coming. The shuffling of the dead on the street outside unnerved her, and her imagination ran wild every time she heard a car or burst of gunfire.

Bright sunlight woke her. Her headache had dulled, a good sign, but her arms ached. The street behind the house was deserted. No, not quite, a blood covered boy wandered aimlessly at the edge of her vision. She stretched out as best she could, then made another attempt at freeing herself.

The end of the chain was tied to wooden beam over the sink, much too thick for her to break just by pulling on it. At least not with only the pressure she could exert with her neck. Laboriously, she climbed onto the counter top. It was hard to get to her feet with her hands tied the way they were, but eventually she made it. Straddling the water filled sink on tiptoe, she reached as far up as her bonds would allow and barely managed to snag the chain with her thumb. From there it was a simple matter to grab the chromed metal links with both hands.

Marla leaned her full weight against the chain hoping to feel some give, but nothing. She bounced a few times and was rewarded by a slight creaking. She just might have a chance. She bounced harder, and felt at least a little movement. Then her foot slipped, sliding into the sink. The shift put more of her weight on the chain, more than her fingers could support, and she fell forward, only to be brought up shot by the leash just before she hit the tile floor.

Gasping for breath, and blinded by pain, she inched back towards the wall until the choke chain eased around her neck. From far away she heard pounding, like a metal drum, accompanied by the moans of the dead. The noises increased in tempo, then faded to occasional bangs. Hours later, or was it only minutes? She staggered to her feet. They gathered outside the cinder block wall that enclosed the tiny backyard of the townhouse. One banged listlessly on the metal gate, while another vainly struggled to climb the wall. Another half dozen milled around, apparently uninterested in the house itself but drawn by the efforts of the others. Had she screamed when she fell? She didn't remember doing it, but she might have. They also might have seen her. Standing like she was, it would be hard to make her out past the glass, but she had been right next to the window, illuminated by the sunlight streaming in.

Well, she wasn't eager to try it again quite so soon anyway. Better to wait until dark, or at least until the sun would be in the eyes of anyone looking in the window. Time for some breakfast, dry cereal and water, infinitely better than what she'd had yesterday. Things were looking up. She stifled a giggle. It was all the funnier because it was true.

Full, she spread out the blanket with her feet, then lay on it and tried to relax. She could use more rest. She managed to doze a little but real sleep eluded her. When the townhouse's shadow was over the backyard wall, she tried again. At least she didn't fall this time. She couldn't untie the leash with her teeth, nor could she reach it with her feet no matter how hard she tried.

By nightfall all the food was gone. Marla refilled the sink, there was still water, but only a thin trickle, and stared out the window into the darkness. The streetlights still burned against the night sky, windows in some of the houses were lit up as well. She thought there were survivors in the last house on the left. She watched hardly daring to breathe and saw them again. She couldn't quite make them out, but they didn't move like the dead.