Page 8 of Anarchy

Looking around, he spots a cluster of rocks and heads towards it. Plopping me on top of one of the flat ones at the bottom, he places his bag beside me, unzips it, and takes out a thick roll of cloth from the bottom. I eye him suspiciously as he starts unrolling the fabric, revealing several metal poles wrapped up inside of it. He rolls out the fabric and starts digging poles into the ground and pushing others into various holes in the fabric. He tightens some of the rods, and they start to form arches, finally revealing a tent. Laughing to myself at how dumb I am for not knowing what that is, but to be fair, I’ve never slept in a tent a day in my life. Once he has it set up where he wants it, he walks around the small clearing, gathering various sticks and setting them up several feet away from the tent. Next, he goes farther into the woods. I stare after him curiously, watching as he grips a large fallen log and starts dragging it over to him. I stand to go help him, and he glares at me, telling me to sit my ass back down.

Once he’s satisfied with his setup, he grabs a metal zippo from his pocket, flicking it open and leaning down to set the sticks on fire. The fire flickers, barely catching until it bursts into an orange flame, illuminating the night around us. Maverick walks back over, snagging his pack up off the rock next to me. He offers me his hand and helps me up. He steers me over to the log and pushes me down onto it as he takes a seat next to me, the pack settling between his feet. The warmth of the fire finds me, and it almost makes me purr with how good it feels. Maverick pulls out a black case from his pack and sets it on the log between us, as well as a bottle of water and some gauze.

“I’m going to take the belt off, and then we need to get your sweatshirt off.” He doesn’t wait for me to acknowledge him before he starts removing the belt and yanking my sweater up over my head. My head feels dizzy with all of the different sensations, and I’m sure the blood loss. He replaces the belt around my arm and grabs my wrist, dragging it towards him and laying it over my knee. “Keep it there for me, beautiful. This is probably going to hurt, but we need to get it clean to see what we’re working with.” He unscrews the cap of the water bottle and starts to gently pour it over my wound; my teeth grit together from the throbbing pain. He uses a piece of gauze to wipe away as much of the blood as he can, the belt helping to make the blood still seeping from my arm turn into a trickle. “Damn, this is going to need some stitches.” He shakes his head with a curse, and I go to pull my arm away from him, clutching it to my chest.

“No fucking way, Maverick! Just wrap it up with the gauze and it will be fine.” My body shakes from the pain coming from my arm and the fear of him coming near me with a needle. He glares down at me with unsaid words that almost, just almost, put the fear of God into me. “I said no! No needles, please.” His face softens when he catches onto my irrational fear of needles. I know it’s stupid, but damn those bitches hurt, and the thought of them poking into me multiple times over and over makes me want to vomit.

“Mallory, we have to. It’s too deep to heal without them. We can’t risk an infection when we are nowhere near a functioning hospital.” I keep shaking my head, scooting back across the log. His hand snakes out, gripping my thigh, keeping me from moving any farther away. “I’d rather not have to do this out here, but I’d also rather not have to hack your arm off because of an infection either. But it’s your choice, I suppose.” The thought of him having to hack my arm off with the axe that he leaned up against the log behind me when we got here makes me still in my haste to get away. I weigh my options in my head, and it pisses me off when I come to the realization that I’m going to have to sit here while he stabs me over and over like a voodoo doll.

“Fine, just do it. B-b-but be gentle, please…” Stretching my arm back out to him with a whimper, he clutches my wrist in his hand, tugging me closer to him until I’m right where he needs me. He opens the box next to him and pulls out a small white bottle before opening a plastic pack of needles, some thick thread, and some scissor-looking things. He sets them all out on a piece of large cotton next to us. Flipping open the cap of the bottle, he pours the clear liquid over each instrument before bringing it over to my arm. His hand clutching my wrist tight in his own, his eyes drilling into mine with warning. “Do it.” I say through clenched teeth, definitely not prepared for the burning pain that awaits me. As soon as the liquid hits my wound, a whimper seeps out of me, and I try to pull my arm away, but Maverick holds it in an iron grip.

“Don’t touch it or I’ll have to sanitize it all over again.” His warning has me clutching both hands into fists, resisting the urge to pull away. He picks up one of the sinister-looking needles and threads the thread, and then picks up the scissors-looking things, which I realize are actually some type of forceps. He leans down and positions the needle next to my wound as he looks up at me with regret in his eyes. “Brace yourself. If you thought the alcohol hurt, then this will feel like absolute hell.” The tip of the needle starts to pierce my skin, and a scream rips through my throat as he pushes it through, catching it on the skin on the other side of the wound. It feels like he’s ripping me open and trying to scoop my guts out as he pushes the needle through the other side.

“Please stop! It hurts too much!” I let out a sob, but he doesn’t even stop. He just keeps going, sticking me like his own embroidery project. My arm shakes against his leg, and my vision blurs with tears. “Maverick, p-please!” He looks up at me with pity in his eyes, his hands stilling next to my skin. “Knock me out!” His brow quirks at my words, like I just asked him to shove a knife through my heart. “Make me go to sleep.” The words come out in a whimper. He gently places the torture instruments back onto the cotton next to him and stares down at me.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He asks as he snips off the end of the thread that’s currently sticking out of my arm. I shake my head yes frantically, my chest heaving, tears and snot dripping down my face. “I need your words, Mallory.”

“Yes! Knock me the fuck out already!” As soon as the first word leaves my mouth, his hands are around my throat, squeezing like a vice.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Pet.” He lowers me back onto the log, the jagged bark digging into my back, his hands continuing to squeeze, cutting my air off. “Close your eyes; it will all be over when you wake back up.” His face starts to blur before me, the edges of my vision going black. He squeezes so hard I know I’ll be wearing a necklace of bruises tomorrow. My vision finally goes black, my body going numb. I feel like I’m floating in a black abyss, and the last thing I feel is the touch of his lips on mine.

ChapterEleven

MAVERICK

I’malmostashamed that my dick got hard when she asked me to knock her out. Watching the light fade from her eyes was just as beautiful as watching her come. As soon as she’s unconscious on the log, I rush into action. Honestly, I’m worried she’s going to wake back up during this process, and if that happens, I will have to tie her down. I’m seriously cursing myself for not bringing more heavy-duty pain killers, but I also didn’t plan on picking up a stray out here either. I transfer the supplies to the ground, resanitize them with the alcohol, and plop down on the hard earth next to them with the fire warming my back. Gently I grasp her wrist in my hand and lay it over my knee and say a prayer for whoever the fuck is listening that I can get this done without any interruptions.

The first stitch feels like I’m dismantling a bomb as I hold my breath and push the needle quickly through her skin. It stretches like elastic before it finally pokes out the other side. More blood flows down her arm, but I pay it no mind as I keep going all the while checking to make sure she’s still out. Ten stitches later, she’s still comatose, and I’ve finished the job. Picking up the alcohol, I spill it over her arm before wrapping several layers of gauze around the wound and securing it with medical tape. I lay her arm across her chest and grab the compact double sleeping bag out of my pack and drape it over her. Next, digging around and snagging out the only two cans of ravioli that we have left. I use my knife to chisel away at the tops of them and nestle them both at the edge of the fire. By the time she wakes back up, they should be warm to eat, which I’m sure she will appreciate after all that shit.

After about twenty minutes, Mallory stirs on the log behind me, a groan slipping from her lips. She turns over, and if I wasn’t sitting next to her, she would have tumbled off the log. I steady her back into her spot; her brows are pulled together in the middle, lips pursed in a cute little scrunch.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Pet. How are you feeling?” She takes a moment to contemplate what I asked, assumingly assessing her body for her pain levels. She opens her mouth to speak, but then thinks better of it and raises her injured arm to inspect it before finally answering.

“I feel like I just got used as someone's voodoo doll, so how do youthinkI’m feeling right now?” I let the sass in her voice slide because I know she’s in pain, but that doesn’t stop the glare I send her way in warning. “A seven out of ten.” She finally answers with a roll of her eyes. As beautiful as those eyes are, I’m so tired of seeing them fucking roll around in annoyance. I reach out and grip her chin in my hand, forcing her to look me in the eyes.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Pet. If I see you roll your eyes one more time, I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank that ass red. I don’t give a fuck if you’re injured or not.” Her eyes go wide with shock. I don’t think anyone has ever talked to her like I have these last few days. She definitely strikes me as someone who’s used to being on the top of the food chain, always in control, and never letting her walls down. “We need to get something into your stomach after all that mess. Need to keep your energy up; we’re heading out at first light.” She let’s out a whine as she shifts her body to slide down the log and onto the ground next to me, bringing the sleeping bag with her. I drape the fabric over both of our laps before digging out some sporks I snagged at the last house from my pack and handing her one. I grab a thick sock out of my pack and fold it in my hand twice before grabbing a can of ravioli out of the fire and handing them both to her. She sniffs the steam from the can and practically moans from the smell. I grab another sock and grab my own can, stirring the contents before taking a bite. I don’t care what you think, but hot ravioli hits so much different than the cold shit.

“Thank you.” Mallory’s soft voice drifts to my ears. Glancing over at her, she’s just staring at her can of ravioli, not even taking a bite yet.

“For what?” I mumble around a bite of food, the heat of the inside burning my tongue on contact.

“Feeding me. Fixing me. Just taking care of me. I didn’t think you actually would when you told me that you would care for me back at the house. It’s kinda weird having someone else care for me. I’m used to just taking care of myself.” Her head hangs, still staring at the steaming can of food.

“Eat, Mallory.” My demanding voice leaves no room for her to disobey me, so she finally digs in and pulls out a ravioli. She is much smarter than I am, because she blows on this one to cool it down before popping it into her mouth, moaning at the taste, making me smirk. “Also… You’re welcome, but don’t thank me for this shit going forward. I told you that you’re my Pet now, and all of that comes with the territory of owning you.” She nods at my words, seeming too tired to argue with me, and we finish eating in silence.

There’s something peaceful about sitting by a fire late at night, in the middle of nowhere. But there’s also something nerve-wracking about it too. I’m grateful that we haven’t attracted any zombies yet, and I'm crossing my fingers that it stays that way, but I’m not sure how long our luck will get us. The fire starts to slowly die down while Mallory starts to nod off next to me. I grab a bottle of water from her pack, handing it to her, before grabbing my own and using it to clean the sporks and drinking the rest myself. By the time I’m done packing everything back into both packs, she’s guzzled down the whole bottle and throwing the remains into the fire pit.

“Come on, we need to get some sleep before it gets too late.” Picking up the sleeping bag first, I toss it over my shoulder, grabbing both packs in one hand, and then reach down to help Mallory to her feet. Directing her towards the tent, unzipping it, and ushering her inside. I lay the sleeping bag down in the middle of the tent, with the packs in the corner. “It’s not the Ritz Carlton, but it’s better than nothing. Hope you’re good with sharing.” I shuck my T-shirt off and toss it in the corner with the packs before unlacing my boots and adding them next to the door. Mallory hasn’t moved from her crouch by the door since we entered the tent. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take your boots off, and get in.” I tuck myself into the sleeping bag, waiting for Mallory to get her ass in next to me. She takes her sweet time discarding her boots before slipping in next to me, her head instantly laying on my chest.

I fall asleep with my hand tangled in her hair and her soft snores echoing through the tent. A few hours later I’m shaken awake by a frantic Mallory, and I instantly grab the gun and flashlight from the ground that I had laid out next to me. “What is it?” I demand, scrambling out of the sleeping bag and crawling towards the door of the tent. I unzip the zipper and peer out, sweeping the flashlight side to side, and the only thing out there is fucking trees and silence. “There’s nothing there; go back to sleep.” I say with annoyance, lacing my voice and turning back towards the sleeping bag.

“Wait! I know there’s nothing there; I have to pee, Maverick!” Her mouth is turned down into a frown, fists clutched at her sides, and she’s swaying back and forth. I raise my eyebrow in disbelief that she would actually wake me up for something like that. “I’m serious, Mav, I have togo!” The pitiful whine in her voice almost makes me laugh.

“Okay, then go; I’m not stopping you.” I say with a laugh as I lay back down on the sleeping bag and hand her the flashlight.

“Uh, where am I supposed to go?” The complete stupidity of her question catches me off guard, and I burst out laughing. “Stop laughing at me! Seriously, I need to pee so bad, Maverick, I can’t hold it anymore!” Her eyes glaze over with unshed tears, and that quiets my laughter, because that’s when I realize she’s never been camping a day in her life.

“Fuck, okay, come on.” I grab the flashlight back from her, and we both shuffle out of the tent, zipping it back up behind us. I walk us about fifty feet away from the tent before stopping and pointing the light at a spot on the ground, making sure there’s nothing harmful around our feet. She just stands there looking at me like I have three heads. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

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