Yesterday's Gone: Season One

on his knees a little longer. He was a king now; this was his kingdom. It just might take a bit longer to claim the throne.
    Another click and whine from the door, followed by a fresh gust of warm, stale air. A new scent entered the room. This scent had teeth. Boricio could smell it, under the sweat: mean, sadistic and cruel. If Testosterone reeked of asshole, this guy was steeped in the scent of pain and misery. He was cock of the walk, and was all too happy to strut his stuff.
    “Time to eat,” Boricio heard the voice a split second before something was forced into his mouth. Earthy and unfamiliar.
    Boricio spit it out, then heard the sticky THWAP!! as it hit the man’s face. “Not hungry,” Boricio said.  
    It was nice to hear the guard’s laughter, good to know a nice kitty cat was there who wanted to play.
    A sudden slap at the side of each of Boricio’s ears rolled thunder through his head.  
    “You dropped something from your cockhole,” the voice said. “Good thing I’m a generous teacher willing to help you learn more control.”
    Boricio’s lips and jaw exploded in pain as the asshole took a cheap shot, and for a moment he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d have to swallow a tooth. Between his nose and lips, he probably looked like Halloween. Not good. Boricio gave exactly two shits and a half a tinkle about his good looks, but knew the value of an effective weapon and a convincing disguise. His looks were both, and in a dead world, a pretty face looked like an angel.  
    Boricio laughed. A crazy, cracked, drunken alligator of a laugh.  
    Dead Guard Walking, that’s what I’ll call this special breed of fucker. Bag of shit won’t just be any old corpse either. I’ll be taking as much of my sweet time as I can afford. Won’t have the minutes I need to make it biblical, but I’m gonna get creative, believe it, bitch. That’s all I need, one minute to make this bag of shit wish he’d died as a child.  
    Boricio’s laughter quieted to a dying rumble.  
    The voice cackled back. “Glad to see you’ve got a bit of fight in ya’. This might just be fun,” he said. “The rest of you fuckers were a bit vanilla for my taste.”  
    Boricio felt a slap at his throat, not too hard but hard enough to make him open his mouth in reflex. The earthy shit was back, followed by a second slap to the throat. “Chew on it, fucker. I’ll be back.”
    A whine, a thud, then seven or so minutes of silence followed by, “I think that asshole’s name is Jackson,” from the voice all the way to Boricio’s right. “And I don’t know it for sure, but I think he’s the one who killed the guy who was sitting right where I’m sitting, round this time yesterday. I don’t think he meant to, and I think he may have even gotten in some trouble from Brock, that was the other asshole who was in here earlier, but he gets carried away and they let him. Might even be his job. Gave me a gash on my right cheek. Feels creek deep, too. My name is Moe, by the way.”
    Moe paused, as if he were waiting for someone to say something. When nobody spoke, he continued.
    “You all can’t see it, but it’s a bad one, and bled so much I expected I’d die right there. Happened right when that asshole Jackson hauled me in. And ain’t no reason, neither. Asked me why I was smirking and I said I wasn’t smirking. Guess he didn’t like me talking back cuz he started whooping me on the top of my head. I was just gonna take it, but then I got to hearing my daddy in my ear telling me not to be such a bitch, so I tried to swing, but forgot my hands were tied behind my back so I fell flat on my ass. That Jackson fucker just started laughing his ass off. He told me he’d teach me not to fight. A second later I felt the worst pain I ever felt, no warning or nothing. My cheek was in a couple of pieces, and blood was spilling from my face like a busted faucet. I started screaming like a hog. Even pissed myself; ain’t no shame in it either way, ‘cuz I was bleeding. They gave me some sort of shot, I guess to sedate me. Next thing I knew I was in here, same as I am now.”
    “Shit!” another man to Boricio’s left said. “My name is Jack. They didn’t do nothing to me, least that I remember. I just woke up in here with my eyes covered and hands tied, about as scared as I’ve ever been.”
    “What about you?” Moe asked.  
    “Me?” Boricio said.  
    “Yeah, how’d you end up at the End of the World Inn?”
    “Not