Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus

little. The moccasins were great for comfort and protection, but nearly useless for disturbing the earth. And for once, I really, really wanted to do that.
    The two would-be rapists split up, one of them coming in from my left and the other, my right. I had just enough time to bend down and pick up the dirt I’d loosened before the one on the left charged me.
    I threw the sand and bits of plant into his face, taking the few precious seconds I’d gained of him being blind to punch him in the throat and then kick him hard in the nuts. I got him with my shin, so it was a solid hit, but not hard enough to mangle them for life like I’d wanted. But he was down for now, and not anyone I had to worry about for the time being.
    I spun around to meet my second opponent.
    “Get that bitch under control!” yelled the slavedriver standing over Winky.
    My opponent turned to look at him, so I risked a glance, too. She was peeking up through her hair at him, and he wasn’t paying attention, too focused on me and his friend and not noticing that she had somewhat recovered from her earlier braining. She reached up and grabbed his belt jerking it towards her enough to throw him off balance. She came up fighting, and the last thing I saw before the other guy was coming at me was a perfectly executed eye-gouge. His screams of pain and frustration cheered my soul, but I had no time to wallow in the happiness, because the hands of the biggest guy of the bunch were closing over my throat.
    I’d lost focus for just a second and that’s all it took. My vision was quickly going dark; this guy was leaving nothing to chance. This wasn’t just a knock-a-girl-out choke hold … this was a strangle-the-girl-until-she-turns-blue kind of maneuver. I came in above his hands and tried to bang them away, but I’d lost too much strength along with my oxygen. My vision narrowed and everything went gray. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten the jump on me. I was wondering if I would soon see my dad, when all of a sudden I felt his hands leaving my throat.
    I gasped for air, trying to get my larynx to open back up. It felt nearly crushed from the pressure, and the pain and immediate swelling was killing me. As soon as I was able to see properly again, I put my hands up, ready to block the next move that came at me.
    My vision cleared, and I wasn’t prepared for what I was seeing. The three slave girls had somehow managed to jump on my attacker from behind. The one that had been sleeping was awake now and looked incredibly energized as she pulled back with all her might on the rope that was wrapped through the zip-tie at her wrists, connecting her to her friends. That rope was now around the neck of her captor and all the girls were choking the crap out of him.
    The guy being choked was kicking his legs backwards trying to connect with their shins and reaching back over his shoulders from time to time to try and punch them, landing a few good ones; but they held fast, pulling on that rope as if their lives depended on it. And I was pretty sure it did, because if this guy escaped, he was going to have more than rape on his mind.
    The guy with the gun was standing there agog. His gun was hanging at his side and he looked from partner to partner, confused.
    Winky’s captor was on the ground, unconscious, and she was busy stomping on his face, over and over. She’d demolished his nose, and his lips looked like hamburger meat. It was disgusting, but I could feel her rage from here. The guy was ready to beat and rape her, and she had every right to end him, as far as I was concerned.
    I turned my attention back to the kid with the gun, taking two steps towards him since the slave girls looked like they had this other guy in hand.
    He saw me coming and held up his hands in surrender, the gun pointed at the sky. “Hey, I’m not with these guys,” he said.
    “Looks to me like you are,” I said in a low raspy voice, the choking having damaged my throat somehow. It was hard to breathe, too.
    “I’m not, I swear to God! They made me come along and do what they said.”
    “You found us and turned us over to them,” I reminded him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
    “Yes, I did! They test me all the time!” he said, his voice rising an octave.
    “I don’t believe you,” I said, stopping four feet away. He still had the gun which I had to assume was loaded, and I didn’t think I could get to my hidden knife before he shot me. “Give me your