Episode Three Not What I Expected

N adira

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this beautiful wilderness we're flying over. Beneath the thick canopy of tall trees are green bushes turning yellow, orange, and crimson. I've seen this on vids. They call it autumn.

What I'm seeing doesn't fit with the tales we were told about air thick with pollution, and a planet so contaminated the people turned into monsters. Maybe all of that was a lie to give more power to the rulers Up Above.

Armstrong sets our hover down in a meadow surrounded by trees. My mind wanders to the plot of a dozen vids I've watched where people used to go outdoors whenever they wanted. They went on picnics and breathed fresh air. As I goad Armstrong into killing me, I'll think about how pretty it is down here. It will be soothing.

But first, there's Armstrong to contend with.

"Okay, Miss High and Mighty. I like the chase. Run. I'm going to catch you." I hazard a glance at him. His expression is the most feral I've seen except on an animal.

Taking him at his word, I fling the door open and run, heedless of the direction. I have no shoes and only this ridiculous see-through gown.

Women aren't allowed to exercise. It keeps us soft and compliant. I know he'll catch me in a few strides. I'm not worried about a laser blast to the back of my head. He's too intent on raping me first.

As my feet pound on the thick grass, getting cut on rocks and fallen branches, something happens to me. One moment I was ready to die, yearning for it, in fact, and now I want to escape.

I've never run before, but the feeling of freedom is transformative. Feeling the wind on my cheeks and my muscles exerting themselves in a way they never have before, I pour on the speed, believing for the first time I might escape the captain of the senator's security team.

"You think you can outrun me?" he taunts from only a few steps behind me.

He's playing with me, like a cat with a mouse. He wants to let me think I have a chance at escape so it will devastate me even more when he finally catches me. Even though I know this, it doesn't make me give up. I keep running.

The entire game lasts only a minute before I'm panting from exertion. His mitt-sized hand grabs my shoulder and in one motion he turns me and pushes me to the ground.

He makes short work of tearing my gown off in one yank. It's no big feat. The material is so sheer a baby could easily do the same thing.

My chest heaves as I look at him. He's a brute. A male who worked himself up from the bottom floors by sheer strength and cruelty as opposed to talent.

His weight on top of me forces the air out of my lungs and I see spit foaming at the corner of his mouth like a rabid dog. "Don't sneer, wifey. The only thing I want those lips to do is stretch around my cock."

Was it only a few minutes ago I decided I wanted to egg him on? To ensure my swift death before the monsters get me?

I don't think there are monsters. Nothing Down Below is as they described. I'm going to fight and run and find a way to live down here.

"I'm not going to suck your cock, Armstrong."

Whack! He backhands me so fast I didn't see it coming. It's so forceful, my head ricochets until my cheek touches the hard dirt I'm laying on. My head is swimming, not just in pain, but I can't think straight. I see two of him. Two hands slapping my cheeks, first in one direction, then the other. Two Armstrongs rising to their feet, so two legs can stomp so hard on my arm, something snaps. Four hands choking me. Two cocks being pulled from his uniform's fly.

I focus on the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, so I don't have to think about the ways he's taking pleasure in harming me. Even though my brain isn't working right, my body functions on autopilot, and I pull into a tight ball. It's my only defense against a sadistic brute who easily outweighs me by a hundred pounds.

The punches stop for a moment, but the pain is still swirling in every part of my body, gathering intensity. Has he decided to pull his pants off? Is he stepping away to fire his laser at me?

I must be hallucinating, because now there are four of him. Two who look like Armstrong, and two who look like… monkeys.

Everything is fuzzy, like when I try to watch the really old vids from long ago. Sounds are muffled, too. Am I dead? Because the pain has stopped. No. That's not right. The pain hasn't stopped, but no fresh pain is coming.

How interesting. Look what my mind is providing me to keep my thoughts off my torment. It's a good movie with ape-men hurting Armstrong. How clever I am to dream this on my way to the afterlife.

Although my family never mentioned God or religion, I heard the maids talking once. They said after you die it's really nice. I hope they were right.