Wasteware 04

04: You Should Be

She felt the cloth that had previously been tied over her face loosen as it was removed. Amaya opened her eyes to take in her surroundings but an intense light forced her to shut them tight. Even closed, the light was sharp against her eyelids, causing a red flame to dance across them. She sat still, hoping the light bleeding through would allow her pupils to adjust.

The room was in was hot. A layer of sweat was covering her skin, pooling between her breasts. Her hair was heavy with moisture. She wanted to wipe her forehead before the perspiration worked its way into her eyes but her arms didn't respond to the command. She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly, desperately trying to adjust them to the light. In the flickering scene, Amaya could make out a metal band across the naked flesh of her arm before the pain forced her to close her eyes again.

She began moving her arms, this time with less forceful motion. She made a mental note of where her wrists and biceps were restrained. She continued the practice of making small, controlled motions with the rest of her body. She could tell both legs were secured at the calf, the metal slightly cool against her naked shin. Her waist and chest were also restrained, but they offered more movement than her arms. Without being able to look, she guessed those were not metal restraints but cloth.

She tried again to open her eyes, struggling to keep them open before resigning herself that whatever the light source was, it was too intense.

"Sergeant Amaya Reeves," a voice hissed from behind her. It was literally a hiss. A low, rolling, primal tone that didn't quite sound human despite the language being spoken. An ancient fear started to creep up on her. It began by knotting her stomach, reaching out to quicken the pace of her heart and shiver down her limbs. Her palms became clammy and cool despite the heat. Every fiber of her being was crying out to flee despite knowing she was restrained. Amaya's logical mind, the one that had been trained to push through untold horrors, worked hard to suppress it. That mind almost lost when two large hands placed themselves on her shoulders.

"Where is he being held?" the voice questioned.

"Amaya Luisa Reeves. Major Sergeant in the United States," she began.

"Spare the formalities," the voice interrupted, bringing the hand off her right shoulder and loosely grasping her neck. The long fingers easily touched behind her hair.

"Where is he being held," the voice repeated.

"Amaya Luisa," she repeated. The hand tightened its grasp over her neck. Powerful fingers forced their way into her flesh, cutting off her air supply. Amaya gasped, trying to get a last breath in.

His face was close to hers now. She could feel his hot and rapid breathing against her skin. Nausea built up in her stomach and she began to feel like she was tumbling despite being restrained.

He released his grasp on her neck. His hand stuck to her skin slightly before he fully retracted his flesh from hers. She frantically took in a rush of air to calm her burning lungs. The stench of him filled her airway, threatening to bring up the bile already churning in her stomach.

"You will give me the information. You will talk or I will have my way with you." Hot breath hissed out every syllable.

"Then have your way because I won't give you anything," she challenged. In the next moment, he was behind her again, ripping both of her eyes open. They protested, burning with the heat of the light over her. She screamed out, thrashing her head in a futile attempt to release his hands. His claws pierced into the soft flesh of Amaya's cheek. The sweat bled into the wounds and stung. As the blood began to work its way down her face; his hand released her eyes. She shut them tightly, yet the light was still in her vision.

His hands were on her shoulders again, only this time from in front of her. She slowed her breathing, trying to regain what little control she could muster. He must have sensed it as his hand moved to her breasts, his claws inserting themselves through her clothes and deep into her skin. Her heart rate quickened, pain shooting through her flesh, but she did not fight.

Wet air brushed its way past her cheek, cooling the stinging wound for a brief moment before his tongue was upon her. Its roughness licked the blood from Amaya's skin, leaving thick trails of saliva in its path.

The urge to vomit again welled inside her, but she held it down. Instead, she reached out for some comfort from her mind. Amaya found it in the knowledge that despite the horrors promised by the future, death lay there too. And death is the thought that would get her through this, as it had before, however bad it got.

"You control your fear so well," he commented, his tongue grazing her pressed lips.

"I'm not afraid of you," she stated, as deadpan and flat as she could muster. He forced her eyes open again, yet she was not met with the blinding light. His body blocked it. Instead, she looked directly into two burning red eyes set inside a skull that was not human but reptilian in nature. Small iridescent scales covered his face, his brow ridge thick and lined with rounded bony growths. His jawline protruded, nostrils flaring with each hot putrid breath he exhaled.

He spoke to her through two rows of sharp white teeth and a thick, powerful tongue, "You should be."

The light went out and they were plunged into darkness. While Amaya's eyes resisted dilating to the low light level, he moved away from her. Then, just past him, she saw more red eyes peering at her in the darkness. She counted 5 pairs within her field of vision.

"You control it," he began, "but your hormones betray your efforts. I can taste the sweetness of it in the air around you; it clings to your skin. You haven't given a proper demonstration of its potency yet. My friends know not the exquisiteness of it."

His voice moved from one side of the room to the other, pacing behind her head. The eyes in front of her never moved off of her body. Their unknown intentions added another layer of worry to the building dread.

"Look," Amaya spoke. "I don't know what man you are talking about. I'm not holding anyone anywhere."

"Ah, there it is," he stepped closer to her. "Are my friends frightening you?"

"You are clearly mistaking fear for mild annoyance," she responded to him sarcastically. She was trying to hide the truth that she was scared. Torture, she could handle; Amaya had been trained for that and tested in its devilish fire. This didn't feel like torture. Despite his questioning, Amaya’s gut told her he was clearly after something other than intelligence, but she couldn't gauge what.

"You cannot lie to me. I sense the chemical running through your body, getting stronger as the moments tick by." His voice was getting closer again. She turned her head to watch his approach, but it never came.

"Bring him in," he commanded someone behind her.

There was silence in the room for long minutes. The only ticking of time was the constant sound of Amaya's breath. No sound of movement, no shuffling of feet, no blinking of the red eyes to avert her attention.

Finally, a hum of electricity added to her breathing and a light turned on above them. It was not the same blinding light as before. This was just bright enough to keep her from seeing the red eyes at the edge of the room while leaving the owners of those eyes in shadow.

A door opened and heavy boots marked their position across the floor. Amaya cranked her head and saw two uniformed reptilian men looming over the naked body of Preston. They were leading him into the room forcefully. His arms, restrained behind his back, were marked by blood trails where long claws had torn through him. His torso was bloodied and raw, marred by the unmistakable injuries of a bullwhip.

"Amaya," he whispered, his voice cracked and worn. He struggled when he saw her but it was short-lived. The taller of the two escorts injected him with something in his neck. His body immediately went limp, foam escaping from his mouth. Paralyzed but aware, they laid him on the floor in front of Amaya. His head turned towards her.

The 7-foot-tall creature leading this ordeal made his approach from behind. He towered over Preston's body, claws unsheathed. As he squatted down, his powerful legs threatened to rip the flimsy material of his uniform. Saliva trickled from his mouth, his eyes gauging Amaya's reaction.

Preston could not see what was going on but his eyes deceived his false stoicism when the lizard claw cut through the skin and muscle along Preston's sternum with one quick movement. The scaled hands ripped the flesh apart in a mess of crimson, exposing the breastplate underneath. As the powerful claws dug in, a loud crack rang out in the room. Amaya knew the strong bones protecting Preston's chest cavity had been broken. The noise and the look in his eyes caused the seconds to be dragged out. Amaya struggled, hoping in vain to find a weak spot in the restraints.

Preston's eyes begged her to do something. She started screaming as the claw disappeared into his chest. "Preston," she kept calling out, her deadpan tone replaced by wails of panic. In a frenzy of fear, she commanded every muscle of her body to move, but it did no good.

A final plea from her friend's hazel eyes called to Amaya before they glazed over into a lifeless eternity. His heart was out of his chest, leaving a pool of blood on the dirty cement floor next to him, the clawed hand holding it out triumphantly. Amaya screamed louder than she had ever yelled, completely losing herself to the fear and grief. Not even the thought of death could comfort her now, looking upon the mangled corpse of her best friend and lover.

"Ahhh, there it is," the creature slurred, tasting every sound.

"Let the bidding begin," he announced, and the light went out again. Now eight pairs of eyes, closer than before, stared at her with lust.