I sit up suddenly, my head throbbing and my eyesight blurry. I can hear a voice but I can't understand the words. I try to rub my eyes but my arms won't move. Why won't my eyes focus? Was I dreaming? Am I still asleep? I hear Tracy's voice across the room. "Tracy?" I call out. "Are you there?" Her voice suddenly seems to relax. "I'm here," she calls. "Are you okay?" I shake my head, trying to lift the fog. As I move my skull back and forth vigorously I feel a stab of pain in the area above my right eye.
My vision starts to clear and I see Tracy sitting in a chair. She's staring at something behind me, and as I turn to look I see a large man dressed in what looks like some sort of military uniform. He's sitting at the table, large portions of our food piled on a plate. He wolfs it down without chewing as though he hasn't eaten in weeks. He is fit, has a wispy mustache and goatee, and his head is bald except for a small stubble that grows around his ears and the back of his head. "Who are you?" I demand, trying to sound authoritative without angering him. My hands are duct taped together behind my back and as he answers I behind wiggling them back and forth, trying to free them.
"My name's not important, I'm just here for your supplies." He looks at me for a moment with a causal calm that is both unnerving and genuine, then returns to his eating. Propped against the table next to him I see a long military-style sniper rifle. He sees me eyeing it and chuckles. "Like that? Little souvenir from Uncle Sam." He pats the barrel and smirks at me. "Saved your bacon with it, so I figure I'd help myself to your... Well... Bacon." He shoves two strips in his mouth at once and washes it down with a large gulp of juice.
I look over at Tracy who is staring at him. "Do you know him?" I whisper to her. She shakes her head and stares at him with menace "You didn't have to tie us up, we would have gladly shared with you." Her voice sounds strained. As a women she's probably terrified, so few men have the moral fortitude to leave survivors virtue untouched... What would this guy do? Would he hurt her? I can't help unless I'm free, so I pull and tug on my duct tape as hard as I can without drawing attention.
"There's plenty of food" Tracy says with only a hint of contempt. "You can have as much as you can carry. We don't have any ammo of that caliber though." She nods toward his rifle. "We do have an extra SMG you can take." He doesn't reply but keeps shoveling food into his mouth. "Or you could stay here with us... We could use a good shot." At this statement he stops chewing, looking at us with deliberate pause. Had Tracy hit a chord? She continued eagerly. "You're obviously a good man, you could have killed us from that distance, or just let us die, but you saved us." I hear the sincerity in her voice and wonder if it's an act or if she genuinely wants to keep this guy around. "We understand why you tied us up. We would have done the same thing." At this I look directly at her and she nods at me, urging me to join her. "She's right." I reply, spinning my legs off the couch and turning toward him. "There's not many of us left. We have to stick together if we're all going to survive." He continued to stare at us blankly, processing what we said. After a moment or two he looks back down at his food and scoops another bite into his mouth. He chews silently, staring at his plate. I looked at Tracy and she shrugged. Had he understood and agreed or was his lack of response simply a way of showing he didn't care at all?
I managed to get the edge of the tape on my wrist loose and slowly began to peel it back. In an effort to hide the sound I began whistling a tune from "Gummi Bears" an old Saturday morning cartoon based on the popular candy I loved as a kid. Tracy watched me in anticipation,
knowing that my freedom could mean hers.
Suddenly our guest stands up, grabs a roll of duct tape from off a nearby shelf and approaches me. "Looks like you need new bandages" he says, pulling me to my feet and spinning me around. The duct tape had just barely peeled off itself when I feel him add several more layers. "That should give you something to do for the next hour or so." He pushes me back down onto the couch and heads back to the table where he silently finishes his breakfast.
We watch helplessly as he loads armful after armful of food, water, and ammunition onto the back of a truck parked outside. Two other men, dressed similarly, stack large cans carefully on top of each other and secure the cases of water with tie-downs. "All set" one calls out to the others. "What do we do with them?" We hear him ask as he points toward the door of the house. "Leave the door open, the croaks will come get them eventually." The others laugh and pile into the truck, start its engine, and wave sarcastically as they drive away with all our supplies.
