Into the Badlands Read Online Free PDF Page B

“The lorazepam, dummy. That's the only pills we got left. You keep this bitch quiet, or else she'll have the deadwalkers all over our shit.”
    Trish felt herself being lifted to a sitting position. Her vision spun as she became level. Now her hands were more loosely bound and she was able to steady herself. Fingers forced her mouth open, and she felt two pills being placed inside, followed by a cup of water to wash it down. Although part of her knew not to swallow the pills, that part was groggy and very tired and had no desire to put up much of a fight. She was so thirsty that she almost swallowed unconsciously.
    She was then unceremoniously dropped back down to the table, too weak to support herself. She felt as if she was underwater, or as if she was behind a thick glass wall watching things unfold. Pain flared in her groin. She’d been with no one since Tim, so she knew what must have been done to her. She began to silently sob, tears spilling from her swollen eyes.
    She conjured up an image of Tim, strong and good, and she drifted off into an altered state once more.

    Dreams of Tim and dreams of carriers clouded her mind. Tim would disappear; then the carriers would attack her, but she could never die. She dreamed of her parents once. In this dream she was eight years old, sitting in her backyard by a pool, despite the fact her parents had never owned a pool. In the dream her parents were young and in love, the way they’d been before the divorce.
    Her mother was beautiful, kind, and happy; unaware of the bitter woman she would become. Her father was still alive; his eyes sparkling in the bright sunlight, without an inkling of the drunken car crash that would take his life two weeks before Trish's sixteenth birthday.
    Once she awakened to the pressure of another body on top of her. The pain was intense. Not just in her groin, but all over her body. Then she drifted off again into a deep sleep. She'd will sleep to come when she could. She remembered being awakened to drink periodically, but she was offered no food. That hardly mattered; she wasn't even hungry anymore.
    The pills they were giving her were provided regularly, along with consistent injections. She had no idea what they were shooting into her. She spent most of her time unconscious. When she was awake she tried not to think about what was happening. She began to look forward to the unconsciousness; with it she could fade away, dream, and pretend she was anyone or anywhere else.
    Time passed in strange random bursts, running together and melting into a confusing, soupy mess. She wasn't sure if time was passing in hours, days, or weeks. She knew she was getting weaker, but death never came, no matter how much she wished for it. The agony seemed as if it would never end.
    Sometimes the lantern was on, often it was not. When it was on she could mostly see her captors and her surroundings. She remembered eating some crackers once, and drinking water periodically, and she was once washed between her legs. She remembered all three men on top of her at one time or another, like monsters devouring crippled prey.
    Eventually, after an unknown amount of time, she began to feel more lucid. She was sleeping less and she was noticing more. She could only assume they tapered down the dosage of whatever drugs they were feeding her, or maybe her captors were just running out. The return of her lucidity also brought with it the despair of her plight. She wanted to die. Her body ached, her pelvis and legs were bruised until they were almost black. Her throat burned from thirst. Hunger still showed no signs of returning. She'd hung on long enough, she'd done her best. Tim would forgive her if she let go. She deserved some relief, didn't she?
    At some point she awakened to to find herself lying on her side, still atop the wooden table she'd been on since she was taken. She was cold, despite having been covered at some point with a thin blanket. Often she was left with just