Chapter One
A draught of foul air ran dirty fingers through the woman’s hair. She shivered. It wasn’t the icy chill that made her body tremble either. She pulled the tattered jacket tighter around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort herself. Once, the jacket had been a bright blue fleece, but now the garment was little more than a black patchwork of rags and frayed material. Just a few stitches and years of dirt held her clothing together.
She shivered again. Had she heard the jingle-jangle of iron?
Wait.
Yes.
There it was again, iron rubbing against iron. She felt her chest tighten. She climbed to her feet and then shuffled over to the rear of the cell. As she made her way to the damp bricks behind, she stepped over the pathetic forms of other women. Most were too weak to move, huddled together on the cold floor, all hope lost.
She'd tried for a long time to keep their resolve high, but eventually the cruelty they'd endured had taken its toll. Most were too young to cope - little more than teenagers really. She was closer to forty now, but still her face was handsome and her hair fell in a long fiery wave to the centre of her slim back. Even years of dirt and grime could not hide the natural sheen of her auburn hair.
The scrape of metal sounded again. In response, the hair at the nape of her neck bristled. She sucked in a lungful of stale air and readied herself. This time she'd put up a fight. That was, if they picked her out. More often than not they picked one of the younger ones. Nevertheless, every so often she was led from the cramped cell and taken to one of the other rooms. There, she'd be forced to … mate.
That's what her captors called it. Raped was closer to the truth. Yes, some of the male prisoners clung to a thread of humanity, but most had descended into madness a long time ago. The ones that had any measure of goodness remaining usually did the deed as quickly as they could, whispering a string of apologies as they lay on top. Others actually enjoyed the pain and suffering, and some even revelled in the act.
Once, at the beginning, a prisoner had refused to obey. He'd been a handsome young man, full of bluster and pride. It had been only her second time and at first she'd felt relief - spared. Then, her captives had realised the man offered no bounty. So without pause they cut his throat and bathed in the river of blood.
Now, if any refused, she would gently lead them to the soiled mattress, offering reassurance and explaining that no harm would be done. In truth, she welcomed the closeness of a fellow human being, one that was still good and decent, and had even grown to like one or two. She didn't see this as wrongful, for although she still considered herself married, and in love, she saw her act as one of salvation. Man was precious, and he needed to be protected.
One day soon the real battle would begin.
Her hands tightened into fists. Her captors had gotten desperate. Their food stock was low. They had started to mate with human women in an attempt to breed, thus creating food. But so far all they'd succeeded in doing was multiplying their own ranks. Soon they would be eating each other. This thought twisted her face into a bitter leer. The sooner the better, as far as she was concerned. It was one thing enduring an act of brutality with one of her own kind, but damned if she was going to let one of those bastards touch her like that!