Live Another Day by Baileigh Higgins (reading in the dark .txt) 📗

“Show me where to sleep,” he once more told the girl, and she hurried to take him to a secluded corner in the back of the house.

It couldn’t be called a bedroom. It was a tiny nook in a larger room cordoned off by a threadbare curtain and contained nothing more than a thin mattress and even thinner pillow. It was clean, though, and Michael hardly cared about it after being awake for more than twenty-four hours.

“This is where you sleep?”

The girl nodded.

“And here?” he indicated the rest of the room, lined with pallets similar to hers, all cordoned off with makeshift curtains.

“The other girls sleep here too.”

He nodded and guessed they’d be along soon when the men grew tired of drinking. It's like a brothel.

“What’s your name?”

“Mpho,” was the soft answer.

He studied her face, noting the high bone structure and full lips. She was attractive, her skin a soft chocolate matched by her hair. He could not imagine raping her, though, even though he knew he was expected to.

Delaying the inevitable, he said, “Bring me water to wash.”

She complied, hurrying off to return with a bucket brimming with water and a cloth. First, he drank his fill of the fresh water. His parched tissues soaked up the liquid like a sponge, bringing immediate relief.

After washing, he relieved his bladder in a pot before he lay down on the mattress with a groan of relief. Finally.

With hesitant movements, the girl closed the curtain and joined him on the bed. He watched her through lidded eyes. He knew what he had to do, yet couldn’t bring himself to do it. How can I? She’s just a child.

Then she startled him by saying in a quiet whisper, “I know.”

He sat up. “You know what?”

“I know who you are.”

“Who’s that?”

“You’re a spy from the other camp.”

Ice water flooded his veins, but he remained quiet.

She peeked through the curtain to make sure they were still alone before saying, “I’m Rebecca’s granddaughter.”

“You?”

She nodded and leaned closer. “I have a message for you.”

He narrowed his eyes as he debated whether to trust her or not. “What message?”

“My granny says you cannot win Ke Tau’s trust. You cannot do what he does, what he’ll expect you to do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re a good man. You cannot do such evil.”

Her words hit him hard, and he wondered if she was right. Can I? Can I torture and kill innocent people? Act like a monster?

A flash of remembrance hit him. Doe eyes in caramel skin, fading as death stole over them. Death delivered by his hands. Valerie.

“How do you know I'm not a monster? How does your grandmother know?” He gazed at his hands with revulsion. The very hands that crushed the life out of Valerie’s neck when he found out she’d cheated on him. “I’m a killer.”

The memory flooded back like a tidal wave. The anger and betrayal. Seeing his wife with another man, and the fear in his eyes when Michael leveled the gun at him and pulled the trigger. Valerie’s screams. Her pleas for mercy. Mercy he hadn’t granted. The life leaching from her eyes.

He should have gone to jail then. But he didn’t. Saved by the very virus that brought about the end of the world. I’m the devil.

Mpho reached out and gripped his fingers, startling him from the vision. “Maybe you were once, but you’re not anymore. You can’t go through with this.”

“I can.”

“You can’t,” she insisted. “You’ll fail.”

“What do you propose I do then?” he demanded in anger. “What does your clever granny suggest?”

Mpho sat back on her heels. “We’ve been preparing for a while now to overthrow Ke Tau and his men.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“The women, the children, the old men.”

Michael scoffed. “You’ll never win.”

“Not alone. But if you attacked, we’d have the advantage of surprise.”

He blew out a breath as he considered her words. “Attacked when?”

“On the full moon. We’ll make certain the men are drunk, and when you strike, we’ll rise from within. They’ll never expect it.”

“The full moon?”

She nodded, her eyes shining with eagerness. “All you have to do is escape tomorrow and take the message to your people. On the full moon…”

“We attack,” he finished for her.

“Yes.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“You don’t know, but you must trust me.” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest, right above her heart. “You must know how I yearn for his death. He killed my father. Feel my hatred.”

He looked into her eyes and saw the strength of her feelings projected back at him. “I believe you.”

She sighed and sank back onto the mattress. “Thank you.”

He lay down next to her and stared at the ceiling, contemplating her words. It made sense. It was a logical plan. It can work.

Outside, the first of the revelers stumbled into the room, followed by more. The sounds of sex rose around him. The grunts of men and the pained cries of girls being taken against their will. We have to stop this.

He turned his head toward Mpho and met her soft brown eyes. “I will do it.”

She nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad, but for now, we have to convince the others you are with them.”

He closed his eyes and gritted out a denial. “I can’t take you. I can’t. You’re a child.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“No.”

“Then pretend.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her.

“We can act it out, but we must do it soon.” Her chin nodded toward the curtain, and there he saw a silhouette. A man, watching like a sentinel. Luckily their whispers couldn’t be heard over the din.

Michael compressed his lips and rolled over onto Mpho with a pig-like grunt. He pinned her to the floor and ran his hands over her sides while she whimpered in fear.

With one hand, he ripped open her shirt. The sound of tearing cloth was loud in the night. He averted his eyes from her small breasts and made as if to open his fly. She pleaded