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"We're going to escape. We're going to get away."
He laughed to himself, knowing what 'away' meant. Sealed in a place that nobody would be able to find, which was perfectly disguised.
And this was it. He'd reached the point now where he was ready to seal up his unit. They were going to become a tight knit community. He had everything he needed for survival, and he laughed again as he realized how clever he'd been. Truly, there was no detail he'd overlooked. Even fresh water had been piped in, secretly siphoned from a nearby stream that he knew was perennial. It would be uncomfortable in that constricted space, but he was ready to wait it out for as long as needed.
By the time they saw the light of day again, he knew that the apocalypse would be over and done, the world would be his, and the power would be in his hands.
"I hope you're comfortable there, sweetheart," he yelled, feeling the strange, red violence surge in his mind again.
The survivalist had been having weird dreams. Dreams in which, instead of keeping all his captives alive, he killed them one by one inside his bunker. It was astonishing how detailed, how real those dreams seemed. Of course, he wouldn't do such a thing. Not when the survival of the species depended on him keeping them alive.
Or would he?
Maybe he could kill just one or two. After all, the others would need an example set. He didn't want them to get out of line or start showing unwanted behavior. That would be unacceptable.
He reached the place where he took his truck off road, hiding it away in a carefully constructed shelter where it was invisible to the eye. He drove slowly between the trees, edging his winding way into the cover. Then he climbed out, opened the trunk, slung the woman over his shoulder, and set off into the tunnel that led down to the concealed bunker.
As soon as he reached it, he knew something was wrong.
He saw immediately that the door to his solitary confinement room was misaligned. It was not fully closed. And rage filled him, a terrible, killing rage that consumed his thoughts and logic.
"No!" he bellowed.
This was where he'd put her as a punishment after she escaped the last time. His most beautiful asset. The one he needed for her looks and her skills. The one he lusted over and desired in other ways.
He'd threatened her brutally. He'd made it clear that if she tried to escape again, she would die.
And she had escaped, despite the threats! She had gotten the door open!
The survivalist lowered his latest catch to the floor, shaking with rage. He strode over and took a look at the lock, seeingthat she must have somehow forced or picked it with something. It was the foil. She'd used it the last time and must have used it again. Or perhaps he'd left a spare piece of wire here, even though he'd tried to clean out anything that could be used to escape in the areas where his captives were held.
"She's gone!"
Snarling with rage, he stormed over to the other door, behind which all the other assets were kept—including her until he'd separated her out. The punishment had backfired—on him, not her.
He flung the door open.
Several pale, terrified faces stared back. The assets were cowering in a corner. They knew! They knew for sure!
"She's gone! And you're going to be punished!" he yelled.
There was silence, broken only by frightened breathing and sobbing.
"Please, don't hurt us," one of them whispered, her voice appealing.
"It's your fault!" he screamed at them. "If you had just obeyed me from the beginning, you wouldn't be in this situation now."
"We don't know what happened. We don't know how she got out." Now there was a chorus of voices. The assets were pleading with him, begging him to understand.
He was so angry. So angry!
The survivalist grabbed a water bottle and flung it across the room. It exploded on the wall above their heads, cracking open, showering them with icy drops as the bottle clattered down, and now he heard cries of fear. Now, he hoped, the last of their resistance had evaporated.
He glared at them, furious and frustrated.
"I am the only person you need to fear," he told them. "I will not let you escape. I will kill you all if you try! They will never find you. And if you think I don't mean what I say—well,I'm going to show you that I do mean what I say. I'm going to show you what happens when one escapes. When one escapes, all will suffer. And don't think I don't mean it," he added in a low, menacing tone.
"Sorry," someone whispered. And then, the women stayed silent. There was nothing they could do to defy him now, he thought. Or was there? He'd been sure last time, and he'd been wrong. Now, he shouldn't be so sure again.
