Heather fought more frantically, using the last of her strength. The teeth that had ripped into her shoulder came free as she turned and pushed and punched madly, desperate to live, regardless of the agony or damage her struggles caused.
The thing vanished, and Heather’s head broke the surface. At first, she couldn’t see anything. Gasping for breath, she wiped the sewage from her eyes and her vision returned. Her flashlight still lay at the water’s edge. She kicked toward it. Nearby, a small figure glided through the water with decidedly sinuous grace.
“No . . .” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Retching, she trailed her hands through the sludge, feeling it push between her fingers as she searched for something to defend herself with. This time, she got lucky. Her left hand caught a hard object, slicked with filth, but heavy. A feral grin split her face at that moment.
The sound of her own laughter shocked her. She pulled the object out of the water, ignoring the reek of sewage that permeated the air and waited for her opponent. She glanced around, searching for it in the dim light. The sound of water shifting was her only warning.
Heather held tight to her weapon and slid her other hand along the uneven shaft, ignoring the odd slippery spots as she cocked the club back.
Three heartbeats, and the splashing sounds were closer.
Two, and she could feel the water surge around her as the abomination approached.
One, and she put her weight behind the swing, listened to the sound of whistling air and then the satisfying crack of her weapon against flesh and bone. The impact ran up her hands, and then her wrists and forearms before terminating in her shoulders. Her breasts swayed and heaved with the effort.
The mutant yelped in a high and jittery voice. She brought her club down again in a hard, violent arc. The impact numbed her hands and left her fingers throbbing in counterpoint. Sludge and sewage splashed her arms and face. Then something else sprayed, as well. Heather pulled back and felt the splatter of warm blood rise with her weapon, felt it christen her face in a baptism of blood and shit. She screamed her anger into the darkness, and listened to her voice echo as she shook with adrenaline and rage.
The next thing that attacked her swam in low and struck her hip. She bobbed beneath the surface for a moment before surging up again. Heather brought the club down in a hard thrust, striking a solid blow against the new opponent. Despite her attack, the thing wrapped a long, thin arm around her ass, and she felt spidery fingers clawing at her jeans underwater. Heather screamed again and prodded at the off ending limb with her weapon until it withdrew. She swung again at where she thought the rest of the thing might be, but missed completely. The creature broke off the attack. Heather heard it swimming away.
Turning again, she focused on the shore as she coughed and forced herself to take deep breaths, eagerly taking in oxygen and expelling the vile taste of filth. Her lungs felt like they’d been splashed with acid, and her muscles felt like they had been replaced with live wires that shook and jittered but refused to work properly. Her face hovered barely an inch above the surface as she continued coughing and did her best to reach the edge. She grasped at the hard stone surface. For one panicked moment, she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to pull herself out of the pit, but then she heard more mewling cries and splashes. The noises were coming from all over the place, too many directions for her to even guess at their location. Spurred on by fear, she pushed herself up on her hands and pulled her lower half free of the muck. Then she collapsed, turned her head to the side, and vomited. Wet sludge dripped and ran from her body, pooling around her. The stench was incredible.
In the waters behind her, the sounds of activity increased again. Heather vomited again and then sat up, wiping her mouth and reaching for the flashlight. She shined it out over the pit and saw the waters churning. She grimaced in understanding. The mutant offspring were no longer interested in her. They were eating their brothers and sisters—the ones she had killed or injured. Heather smiled at the realization.
Good, she thought, let them eat each other instead of me.
She watched them feast and retched a few more times. Then, satisfied that she’d live for at least the time being, Heather turned to search for a way out.
She collided with Scug, who was standing silently behind her.
“Bitch,” he spat, slapping her face with the back of his hand. “I should have known I’d find you down here with all the other trash.”
Heather didn’t utter a sound as she swung the flashlight around and smashed him in the side of the head. Grunting, Scug stumbled backward, swaying on his feet.
“No more, you fucker,” she said, her voice low and predatory. “No more of this shit. It’s my turn now. My turn!”
She struck him again, rocking his head back even harder. The air rushed from his lungs. Scug swayed more. For a second, she thought he might fall, but he maintained his balance. Heather darted in for a third blow, but Scug straightened up, rubbed the side of his head and stared at her, grinning. She faltered, halting in midswing.
“You think so?” he asked.
Heather felt her anger waver. Doubt crept back in. Her fear bloomed anew.
Scug’s smile grew larger. “Do you really think so?”
“I m-mean it,” she stammered. “Stay the fuck away from me, you sick freak.”
“Come on, girlie. Give it your best shot.”
Screaming, Heather charged. Rather than dodging or trying to block her attack, Scug met it head-on, stepping toward her. He caught her swing with one hand. His other arm grabbed her left breast and squeezed. Heather’s enraged cry turned into a shriek of pain. Still twisting her breast, Scug wrenched her arm downward and twisted it at the same time. The flashlight slipped from Heather’s grip and clattered onto the floor. The lens shattered, and the flashlight rolled away, plunging into the water.
Scug hissed. His foul breath was hot and humid on her face. His fingernails dug into her wrist and through her shirt into the meat of her breast as he squeezed harder, forcing her down to her knees until she was eye-level with the horrid penis sticking out of the leathery vagina he wore at his waist.
“You’re not good enough for a new suit of clothes,” he spat. “You’re no good for anything. You’re just another piece of garbage, washed down to us from above. You’re trash.”
“Please,” Heather pleaded. “Please please please please . . .”
Scug laughed, his face hidden in shadow. “You gonna beg now? You gonna offer to suck my dick or something if I promise not to kill you?”
Heather choked out a sob, unable to respond. Scug’s penis twitched, coming to life.
“Is that what you’re gonna do? You gonna beg for it?”
Behind her, Heather heard a great commotion in the water—splashing and a chorus of tiny, hungry voices. Her thoughts turned to Javier and the rest of her friends. She wondered where they were now, and if any of them were still alive.
“Well, guess what?” Scug let go of her breast and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He jerked it hard, and Heather screamed again. “I wouldn’t let you put your mouth on me. What do you think of that? You’re not good enough for it. Not good enough to eat. Not good enough to wear. Like I said, you’re just another piece of garbage from up above. And down here, we throw our garbage away.”
“No . . .”
“Yes. I bet your boyfriend tastes better, anyway. He’s a fighter. I’ll eat his heart first and gain his strength.”
Laughing, he dragged her by her hair to the edge of the pit. Heather twisted and fought and clawed, but Scug refused to let go of her hair or her arm. Her feet kicked the ground, but to no avail. Scug grunted with effort and Heather felt herself falling. One moment, there was hard stone underneath her. The next, she splashed into the noxious pool again. She had the presence of mind to gasp a lungful of air before she sank beneath the surface, but that was all.