The Survivors: Book One

Tense and alert, but not really scared, Rick watched them right back, his hot green eyes daring. He might be an outside member, but Rick was also their short, stocky leader's personal property, and Cesar would kill anyone who touched what was his. It kept Rick from the horrible death their eyes threatened, but it didn't stop him from being beaten. He was always careful to sleep with an eye open.

The freed inmate wasn't exactly sure what it was that kept him here. There had been plenty of chances to escape, but he hadn't even tried. Maybe it was the lack of rules, or how he felt more alive than ever before - more like a real man should feel as he stayed among these violent killers, keeping his life where no other white men had.

Rick sighed, turning from an icy blast of wind. Maybe he had a death wish. He was sure that eventually he would be eliminated, but for now he was surviving where no one else could, and he raised his head. They could only kill him once.

His eyes went over lumps in the darkness, seeing jackrabbits, bats, larks, and people. Hell, a quick bullet to the head, or knife to the throat might be easier than what the rest of the world was suffering right now anyway.

"Come in, Reechard."

Rick's mind snapped back to why he had been called, and there was a battle in his mind as he entered.

Vaguely glad to be out of sight of the unshaven, dirty Slavers who were camped directly on the dark, concrete lanes of US 25 like they owned it, he saw that the tent looked the same. Only the bait was different. The first time Cesar had called him here, Rick had been so relieved to be spared that he'd agreed without thinking…Salem.

Time slowed…

Rick could suddenly feel the struggling, naked female beneath him; could smell Cesar's cigar as he leaned close, pinched the girl's nose shut.

"You wish to live, yes?"

Rick couldn't stop, was too close to being in, and he jerked forward, wincing at the loud scream against his dirty hand as he buried his hard flesh in the struggling body under him.

"I know, Americano, and you will."

The Slaver's blade was against his throat now, sharp knife pricking the skin with each stroke, and Rick moaned, scared - and on fire.

"If you do what I want."

Rick nodded carefully, struggling not to slit his own throat, as he raped the naked woman Cesar had thrown into his arms. His hand slid around her neck to keep her from screaming again, and to get a better grip.