Adina Shoemaker's head bounced off hard, rocky ground, the impact addling her senses, turning the world blurry. Shouts and screams came to her like they were happening on the other side of a wet curtain. She flailed her legs, turning to get her hands under her. Sharp gravel on what had once been an asphalt road drove into her palms as she pushed up, kicking away from the body she'd fallen backward over. She got her feet under her, but as soon as she tried to rise, she was violently dizzy, the world seeming to turn abruptly ninety degrees. She hit the ground again. The clash of weapons, pleading screams and the raider's victorious shouts were everywhere. She crawled as fast as she could on her hands and knees. She had no idea what direction she was going; just away from the sounds of fighting.
A strong hand grabbed the back of her jacket and she screamed. Her nails snapped against exposed asphalt, clawing to get away. Another hand grabbed her jacket pulling her back. She threw herself onto her back and kicked. She could make out the outline of the raider, but there were no details, only blobs. Trinkets and unidentifiable objects swung from his clothing as he threw her legs aside. Then his hands were on her again, holding her down. She screamed punched, kicked, clawed and bit. There was another raider. A knee drove into her belly and the world spun anew with the pain. The second raider threw his weight down again, driving his knee into her belly again and her whole body seized, trying to curl up to protect herself. But she couldn't. The knee was there, and the body attached to it, leaning on her, pinning her. Strong hands grabbed hers and pulled them together. She felt rough cord wind around her wrists, barely able to see, her vision now blurred by tears of pain as well as from hitting her head.
"This one will be good for trade," the first raider huffed, breathing hard with exertion. Hands tore her jacket open, her fear nipples standing out as they pawed her nineteen-year-old breasts through her shirt. She was round and womanly but wasn't what anyone would call busty. A blurred face pushed close. "Pretty too. I like freckles." He made an approving sound. "The warlord might want to keep her for himself."
Hands dragged her to her feet, but her traumatized belly wouldn't let her straighten. She still couldn't take in more than shuddering half breaths. The rope pulled harshly, and she stumbled forward, then fell onto her knees, too dizzy to even stagger. One of the raiders grabbed a handful of her long, dark hair and pulled her upward.
"Get up!"
"Not too rough, idiot! That hair's a selling point!"
She shrieked and was struggling to get her feet under her when hot liquid suddenly splashed across her face. She threw her hands up and recoiled, tasting blood. The hand holding her hair let go and the raider stumbled back. Even in her spinning vision, she could see blood gout from his neck, his hands grabbing at his slashed throat. There was another blurred body, moving fast.
The awful wet whistle and choking sound the raider made trying to breathe met with a feral roar from the second. There was a gunshot. Adina stumbled and hit the ground. An instant later the second raider crashed down on top of her. He didn't move.
Beyond him, the other person was still moving, pistol up and firing, the sharp outline of a saber in their other hand.
The color fell suddenly out of Adina's vision... she could hear her sobbing breaths, her wildly fluttering heartbeat. There was a tunnel for an instant... But that instant seemed to stretch on... and on... echoing in the tunnel were gunshots, the raider's victorious cries turned fearful, then to shrieks of agony. Then there was nothing.
Adina woke slowly. Her mind was filled with screaming. Gunfire and the reek of burnt powder... the clash of weapons... the terrible sounds they made when they struck flesh were there again. There were unformed flashes; movement, colors, abstractions of faces. And other images, unwanted snapshots burned in her mind. Bodies twisted in ways they shouldn't be. People she knew with vacant eyes and gaping mouths.
She was
so
cold.
She tasted dust in her mouth, felt dry on her lips. She tried to swallow but her tongue stuck to the inside of her mouth. It took several painful swallows before saliva eased the clogged feeling in her throat. But she paid for it with an ache in her cheeks like someone was squeezing her saliva glands between their fingers. The sharp, bitter taste of soot or burned oil that she expected wasn't there. Nor was the sour, metallic taste of blood. It was just dirt.
She opened her eyes, blinking through the clinging fog of unconsciousness. She kept blinking, but all she could see was darkness. Dull pain jabbed her shoulders, pulling her toward consciousness. Her instinctive attempt to curl into a fetal ball against the pain and to hide her nipples from the cold brought her suddenly awake. Her belly spasmed like the raider's knee was driving into it all over again. Her shoulders lit up like they were on fire when she tried to pull her arms forward. Her hands were restrained behind her.
Her fingers felt metal at her wrists. It was smooth, polished - cuffs with chain connecting them. She pulled at them. Something was attached to them.
No, no, no, no...
Fear leapt up from the awful place inside her.
Feeling desperately along the chain, her fingers ran into a cable connected to it. She craned her neck, trying to see behind her in the darkness.
Shadows played on the crumbling concrete wall next to her. She turned toward the light. Ten yards away a fire was burning. Several dark shapes surrounded it. She froze, her heart hammering like it might tear itself from her chest. It took several moments of squinting and blinking to clear her vision enough for the shapes to resolve into packs and bundles. They weren't people sleeping around the fire. Relief flowed over her and she had to clamp her mouth shut to stifle the sob that wanted to come with her relieved exhale. She let her head fall to the dirt again, just breathing and trying to control her emotions.
It took a few minutes, but she felt steadier. She put a foot on the ground and pushed, fighting the restraining cable and the cramps in her belly to flip over, putting her hands toward the dim firelight. She had to rest again after the effort. When she felt strong enough, she craned her neck, ignoring the pain shooting through her shoulders, neck and belly to see how the cable was attached to her restraints.
Smooth, dark metal encircled her wrists. These weren't brute manacles like raiders or scavengers used. These were
manufactured
, maybe even made in a factory. She'd heard the unbelievable tales about the factories in the great city-states with their farms and walls and guns. Staring at the cuffs, something in her leapt with joy.
If even part of the tales the wandering storiers tell for a few pieces of scrap or a meal are true...
She couldn't help herself, she let her fingers run over the smooth dark metal. But when she saw what connected to the center of the chain between the cuffs, her heart tumbled again. A lock. Equally well made, of dark metal, connected through a ring at the center of the chain that seemed built for the purpose. And through that lock passed the eye of a cable. She pulled, her eyes following the cable's movement in the fire light. The other end was attached to the stout handle of a massive, crushed door that had once been the entrance of a grand building, now a ruin like most of the old world.
