Claimed

1.

Daryl was doing his level best to not lose patience with Joe, but the old man wasn’t making it easy. 

“I’ve been on my own before,” he said, for what felt like the millionth time. He thought he could probably say it another million but it wouldn’t put Joe off.

“Yep, so you’ve said,” Joe acknowledged. “Look, Daryl, I get it. You don’t want to make new friends because you’re sick of losing people. Like this woman Len spoke of.”

“You don’t know nothing about it. Neither did he.”

“I know you love her. That’s obvious. So, I propose this: I help you find your woman. We all head out to this Terminus place together. I avenge Lou, if his killer is there, and if he ain’t, I’ll have to keep looking. Either way me and my gang move on. If you and…”

He waited for Daryl to supply a name. 

“Beth.”

“Pretty name. If you and Beth want to settle down there at Terminus, do that, or, you could both move on with me and my group. Your choice.”

Daryl wondered if Joe would really let go that easily. He seemed to have a yen for convincing Daryl to join his group. Daryl also wondered if the man Joe was looking for was someone he knew from the prison. He hoped not. If it came down to choosing between Joe and anybody from his old group, he’d go with his old group. No matter what, help in finding Beth would increase his chances of survival until he located her.

“You won’t try to talk me into giving up on Beth?”

“No. If you haven’t found her in a reasonable amount of time I’ll just come back to my men and wish you luck on your own.”

Daryl decided to take Joe at his word, since a man’s word was something Joe seemed to respect more than anything else. 

“One thing,” Daryl said. “Claimed.”

“What’s claimed?”

“Beth.”

Joe grinned. “Understood.”

 ***

Beth Greene watched Daryl run after her. She heard him call her name. She tried to open the car door but it was rigged to remain firmly shut. 

Her eyes snapped open as she came awake in the hellish confines of a wooden box. She’d had the same dream every time she fell asleep, which had been many times in the three or four days she’d been held in solitary confinement. She knew she was in a windowless garage that was locked up so tight it was in perpetual darkness, but exactly where that garage was remained a mystery.

Daryl had made it. He'd survived the attack. He was out there, alive, and Beth wondered if he still searched for her, or if he’d given up.

He could have given up.

Beth tried to banish such thoughts. She couldn’t allow herself to believe Daryl had given up on her, or she would give up on herself. 

She tensed when she heard footsteps from outside. They came three times a day to push a bottle of water in through the small opening in the top of the box. Now the golden light of evening stabbed at her eyes, making them water. She squinted, trying to adjust, as the lid was pulled open.

The man who’d taken her stepped back and made an exaggerated gagging sound. The smell was admittedly horrible but not Beth’s fault. She had no choice but to lie in her own piss and shit since he refused to allow her out of the box to use the bathroom.

“It’s a lovely evening,” he said. “Come up out of there and get some fresh air.”

Beth struggled to stand after days of being balled up in the hot box. She was dehydrated, hungry, and weak. He slipped a collar around her neck and attached a leash. If she wasn’t so dizzy and sick she would have been offended.

“I’m Father Thorn,” he said conversationally, as though they were meeting on her first visit to his church for Sunday services. “Your name is Beth. I heard that man, Daryl, call you Beth. Last name?”

“Greene,” she said, seeing no reason to lie.

“Beth Greene. What’s Daryl’s last name?”

“Dixon,” she said tiredly.

“You’re nice and agreeable. I like that in a woman. Stand over here.”

He tied the leash to a pole by the garage door, which he lifted completely up to allow lava colored light to flood the garage. He whistled upon seeing her clearly.

“My God, you’re absolutely filthy.”

There was genuine disgust in his voice, as though the state she was in was her fault, as though she’d chosen to be covered in her own waste and days of sweat. 

“When did you last have a proper bath?”

“What does it matter?”

“Mmmm,” he said, and shook his head. “See, that’s not agreeable, and I don’t like it when women are disagreeable.”

He backhanded her, then stood back and crossed his arms while her lip bled.

“When did you last have a proper bath?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“When was the last time you got to wash up?”

“The day before you took me.”

“Five days, then. You’ll be happy to know that I’ve got soap and clean water here. Stay right there and undress”

As though I can go anywhere, Beth thought angrily. She could barely remain standing, but she managed to undress. She decided to do it without a fight. She didn’t wish to be hit again.

Is he going to rape me?

He returned a couple of minutes later with a bar of soap, a wash cloth, and a water hose. He turned the hose on her, dousing her with cool water. After the shock was over it felt quite good. Beth tried to get some into her parched mouth and when she did, it was like heaven. 

“Lather up first, then I’ll rinse you. After that, use the wash cloth. You’ve got a lot of grime on you.” 

He made her wash and rinse three times. Each time he took particular care to spray her breasts and between her legs. He looked upon her with unabashed lust and she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to put up a fight if he tried something.

“I bet you would really like a nice meal. Maybe sleep in a bed.”

She took a step backward at mention of a bed and he laughed.

“Don’t be afraid, Sweetie. I won’t do something as vulgar as rape you and sully your virtue. I won’t take you into my bed until we’ve been joined in the bonds of matrimony.”

“I don’t want to marry you.”

“You will. You will come to want me or I’ll have to put you down like some rabid bitch.”

He took Beth’s leash and pulled. She followed him on shaky, weak legs toward a church that was meticulously kept. The lawn was cut, a brick wall, about six feet high, circled the yard. She could smell some kind of meat cooking as soon as she was brought inside. 

“We’re having chicken and roasted veggies,” he said. “I keep chickens in the coop out back, and there are plenty of vegetables in this wild garden that one of my neighbors used to keep. Have a seat.”

He sat her at the kitchen table and then took the collar off. He took the chair across from her and studied her.

“I’m going to give you choice now. After dinner you can go back inside your hot, stinking box, or, you can remain in here and be treated like a young lady. No, no, wait,” he said, holding up a finger before Beth could answer. “If you choose the box I will lock you up nice and tight and know where you are, and I’ll make the same offer to you tomorrow. If you choose to stay in here and then make an attempt to escape, I will beat you most severely. I will cut off one of your feet and then cauterize the wound with a torch. I won’t marry a defective woman so you’ll be good for nothing but to amuse me. I get my amusement on defective women by raping and torturing them. Do you understand your choices?”

Beth nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled. “Good.”

Beth had indeed planned to make a run for it, but the idea of losing a foot terrified her, and she had no doubts this man would mutilate her, gleefully so. She was exhausted and weak. If she made an escape attempt she knew she’d fail. She would have to wait, bide her time. When she was strong she would make her move.

“You won’t try to run?”

“I won’t try to run,” she confirmed.

His smile turned into a cheerful grin that she thought would haunt her for the rest of her life. “I’m going to show faith in you, Beth Greene. I’m going to give you a chance to make me either regret trusting you, or be pleased that I did.”

She was made to wash her old clothes and hang them up to dry in the back yard. He didn’t follow her out, only watched from the kitchen as he finished cooking dinner. When she was finished she returned to the kitchen where she was finally allowed to put something on. He gave her a black dress that looked like something an Amish girl would wear. He didn’t include panties or shoes. She didn’t care. She was covered from his prying eyes for awhile, at least. 

After dinner he served apple pie.

“You’re so tired. I can see the weariness in your eyes. I don't blame you. After four days in a that shitty box I'd be worn out too. I’ll be nice and wash up tonight. As my fiancé, however, you will be responsible for cooking and cleaning from now on. That is, after all, woman’s work. Understood?”

She nodded.

“Have you any questions for me?”

“Are you a real priest?” she asked.

“Why do you ask? Do I seem corrupted to you? Do you think that a man of the cloth could somehow remain pious and unsullied by the horror of this world?”

“The sign out front said this is a Baptist church and you’re dressed like a Catholic priest.”

He laughed, genuinely amused. “Oh, Beth! Such a cute sense of humor you have! Very observant, I must say. No, I’m not a priest, though I do believe in God. I wear this, and go by the name 'Father' Thorn, to spit in God’s face for allowing this horror to happen to humanity. Do you believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Good. You will come to hate him as I have, I am sure. If you don’t already.”

“I don’t hate God. Not yet,” she added, hoping to keep him appeased. He seemed pleased by her answer.

“Any other questions?”

“What happened to Daryl?”

“Do you have feelings for him?”

“He’s my friend.”

Father Thorn smirked. “Oh, my love. You’re so naïve. I watched the two of you. I listened to you. That man wasn’t your friend. That man wanted to fuck you. He would have seduced you, eventually. Or raped you.”

Beth shook her head. “Daryl wouldn’t hurt me. He’s a good man.”

Father Thorn's face turned hard when Beth stood up for Daryl. Her affection for another man angered him. “You will never speak his name again in my presence. Do you understand?”

She nodded. He seemed to unwind at her acquiescence.

“It’s early yet. I’ll send you to your room and give you a book to read. You may read for one hour, then put your candle out and go to sleep. There is a bucket in your room to defecate in. You will be locked in tonight. After I know you can be trusted I will stop locking you in. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He did as he said he would, and locked her into a small room that had a cot, a bedside table, and a tiny window with bars on the outside. There was a bucket in the corner, and an old milk jug filled with water, with a small glass beside it. She drank most of the water, hoping to hydrate. It made her feel stronger but it wasn’t enough to get her back to full strength. She blew out the candle laid down on the cot, and prayed to God the lunatic who’d taken her wouldn’t rape her.

Seconds after her head hit the pillow, Beth was asleep.

Part 2