Alone at the End of the World

They went down to the river in groups, one person guarding with a gun while the others stripped and changed. All of the women plus Stacy went in one group, Mark, Davis, Jess, and Jonah went in another group, and the rest of the men plus the boys went in the last group.

Jonah was scared. He had makeup covering the bruises on his neck. He didn't want it to wash away. He had done everything in his power to be in the group that Mark wasn't in, but it didn't work, and he didn't want to make a scene.

Down at the river, the banks were wide, and the current was slow. The bottom was gunky and soft, but the women said that there hadn't been any leeches, which was one good thing anyway... The water was cool, and it felt good on their dirty skin.

Jonah walked a little ways away, stripped hastily and plunged neck-deep into the gentle current, his feet sinking ankle-deep into the soft mud and water plants. His eyes closed with the bliss of being able to put his entire body in the water. He scrubbed himself with a bit of his soft soap that he had put in an old sock. The sock let suds come out, but prevented the soap from washing away in the stream.

When he walked out onto the soft sandy bank, he actually felt lighter. His hair felt wet and clean, and his skin felt smooth and free of dirt. He walked to his little pile of fresh clothes and started to put them on, enjoying the feel of the clean cotton on his damp cool skin.

When he had put on his shoes and grabbed his soap-sock, he started heading back for the others, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Mark had been watching him from the bushes. He had rinsed, but not used soap, his blonde hair was still greasy. He had a cold little smile on his face, and suddenly Jonah felt so violated. It wasn't enough that Mark had used him twice, or that he was going to be used some more, Mark had to watch him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Jonah averted his eyes, feeling painful scared heat in his cheeks and stinging tears gathering in his eyes. He walked past Mark, and let out a little squeal when Mark gave his ass a firm squeeze and a pat.

"Good boy..." Mark muttered, chuckling low in his throat. The four of them headed back to the clearing, Davis and Jess completely oblivious to what had happened.

---

There was a brief argument about the next watch. Jonah volunteered, and David asked Bert to do the shift with him. Bert scowled at the thin tired-looking teenager.

"Find someone else. This fucking queer wont get to me."

"Shut the fuck up Bert." Jonah nearly jumped. He hadn't expected anyone to stand up for him, and even if someone had, he would have bet on Vera, or maybe Annette, not Jess.

"I'll do another shift. I don't mind David." Jess looked so serious. Jess was a valuable member of their group. He hunted, had brought most of the original weapons, and he was one of the best shooters. Bert didn't have the balls to call him any names.

Jonah was unsure about Jess. Jess had been the man who rescued him not once, but twice, but they had never shared more then half a dozen words. He had assumed that Jess hated him after everyone learned about his sexuality, but Jess had never insulted him, never treated him badly. And now, Jess was defending him.

Jonah shrugged and picked his favorite hunting gun from the little arsenal. If there were going to be sides, at least Jess was on his.

---

They clambered on the roof through the window, relieving Annette and Janet. They had set up a more comfortable spot with two lawn chairs and a wide picnic umbrella with the plastic base weighed down with a few bricks. They sat on the chairs facing back to back so they could see the most area, and for at least half an hour it was very quiet.

Jonah liked how peaceful it was. He felt a great tension loosen up in him, and he was able to relax. Jess didn't try to make conversation, so it was quiet, but not awkward. They watched David and a small group of the others go through the cornrows with hoes, slashing at the shrub-sized weeds. Another group followed with buckets of water, putting a splash at the loosened dirt at the base of every corn plant. It was hot sticky work, and Jonah couldn't help feeling a bit of guilty pleasure at being stuck up in the lawn chairs under a bit of shade.

He flinched a little when Jess spoke. "That Mark guy, is he bothering you?"

Jonah cringed a little and whispered. "Yeah, but don't tell anyone, please!"

Jess was quiet for another moment. "This is a big fuckin' mess. Those two helped us out, so even if they are douche-bags we cant stop them."

Jonah was surprised. Jess had seen the heart of the problem immediately. "That's why no one can know. Please Jess, promise you wont tell! He isn't hurting me!" Jonah's throat throbbed gently as the lie left his lips.

"I wont tell anybody now... but this can't go on. It's only a matter of time before they start bothering the women, before David starts in... It's just gonna get worse. They have us all by the short hairs, and we need them."

Jonah turned around and saw that Jess had a frustrated helpless look on his face. He couldn't think of a way out of it either.

"Jess?"

"Hm?"

"I just... I just wanted to thank you. I never thanked you, but you've saved me more then once."

For a moment Jess was silent. "You're welcome Jonah."

---

That night dinner was amazing. Everyone was starving from the hard work in the fields. Several of them nursed blisters on hands and feet, and others had chafing and sore muscles. The Doc had collected all of the medical supplies in the house (The first-aid kit had been taken, but the farmer still had a collection of over-the-counter medicine and bandages) and he dispensed band-aids and sore-muscle rub and disinfecting wipes for their blisters.

Stacy and the kids had cooked up canned-meat burgers and used fresh-made bread for buns. The meal went with white asparagus, mixed fruit, and canned butterscotch pudding. Ice-cold lemonade made with well-water and drink powder and sugar washed it all down.

Jonah enjoyed the meal immensely, but right after he asked David in a soft voice if it was okay for him to sleep in the RV. David glanced at Mark and said it was alright.

Jonah moved his things into the bedroom that Vera and Davis had slept in. It still smelled stale, like seventeen people crammed into a tiny place. It was dark, and lonely. For a moment, Jonah felt sick. He sat down on the bed and moaned, clutching his stomach.

How had it come to this? Two months ago, his biggest worries had been studying, and student loans. Now he was hiding in a smelly RV, waiting to be sexually abused so that a small group of survivors wouldn't get hurt by insane human beings.

Jonah flinched when the RV door opened. "Hey boy... That's a good boy, come on out."

Mark was standing in the doorway, a bottle of beer loosely clutched in his fist. He wasn't drunk though, not yet. Jonah cringed by the curtain that covered the doorway to the bedroom.

Right now, he was being Nice Mark. He smiled gently, and he almost looked sweet. He waved Jonah over to him, and when Jonah was close, he made the sudden ugly turn to Nasty Mark.

Jonah cried out when Mark hit him. The older man moved so fast that Jonah hadn't had time to tense up or defend himself. Mark's knee went up into his stomach, and Jonah's back had been against a wall, so the blow went deep and hard into his unclenched stomach.

Jonah fell to the ground, curling up on his side and breathing in desperate shallow gasps, his stomach hurt and spasming. Mark knelt down and suddenly he was Nice Mark again. Jonah gasped and cried as Mark ran a gentle and soothing hand up and down his side. His voice was a gentle little murmur.

"When I come into the RV, you will be here, waiting for me on your knees, do you understand that queerboy? Answer me..."

His words were still kind and soft, but with the last two, his hand turned into a rough and clenching grip on Jonah's wrist. Jonah let out a scared hurt little cry as Mark twisted his wrist.

"Yes Mark!" He sobbed. It had all happened so fast. He was curled up on the ground and Mark was hurting him. Humiliation and shame meant nothing, he just wanted the hurting to stop.

Mark let go, and his gentle stroking commenced. Jonah moaned softly with pain, holding his bruised stomach and struggling not to vomit. Mark didn't let him get his feet under him again. Mark straddled his throat and unbuckled his belt. He pulled out his cock, which was rock-hard from abusing and coercing a young frightened boy. He rubbed his cock all over Jonah's face, feeling spit and tears on his hot throbbing cock.

"Open your mouth, you stupid little cunt. If you puke on me, I'll kill you."

Jonah opened his trembling mouth. It was dark, and Mark's profile was blurred with tears.

---

It was finished. Jonah had Mark's come on his face, and Mark had forced him to jerk off and come on himself. Jonah was so scared and hurt and cowed that all he did was cringe from Mark when the older man hawked and spat on his face. Jonah was afraid to move, afraid to look at him, afraid to cry. His curled-up body trembled with fear.

Mark stood up, and watched the half-naked bundle at his feet cower and let out muffled whimpers. He kicked Jonah and left the RV. Jonah cried and cried and cried. He scrubbed his body with a washcloth until his skin was raw and red, and then he went facedown on the bed and cried some more.

Mark was a clever bastard. He knew that the more he abused Jonah, the more afraid Jonah was of him. Jonah was at the point where he'd rather die then have anyone know about how Mark used him. Jonah was cowed, and too afraid to fight back or expose him. Jonah was at the point where he would take any abuse, just to make sure that Mark didn't hurt him worse.

Jonah finally slept, his eyes swollen and hot and red. He had nightmares about crazies.

---

Jonah was very good at hiding what Mark did to him every night. He hid it from his friends, from Jess, even from himself, to a certain extent. It was very easy, during the day anyway, to tell himself that it was just a blowjob, and that a few blowjobs was a small price to pay for good leadership. It was harder to ignore how little sleep he was getting from nightmares, or that he spent almost half an hour at the cracked RV mirror every morning to cover his bruises with the makeup, or the faint sick feeling in his stomach whenever Mark was in the same room.

Jonah was cheerful and happy whenever he did his chores. He sympathized and joked and laughed with the women when he did laundry with them. Him and Jess became good friends, and Jess helped him out by choosing Jonah as his watch partner, so he never had to take a watch with Mark.

It was an unspoken fact that with every day, crazies became less of an issue. It had been forty-five days since the initial infection, and about twenty days since the first infected citizen had fled to Bemidji. Every day, hundreds of crazies died from infection, sickness, injuries, exposure, and shots fired from little bands of survivors.

Another unspoken fact was the death of survivors. Jonah's band was a rarity. Many healthy members, no one had been killed in their group, there were partners and families, and a strong leadership, and a doctor (of sorts). Survivors had died from injuries, crazies attacks, suicides, drunken arguments, squabbles, mutinies, and food poisoning.

Jonah's band had not seen another healthy human since Mark and David.

---

Jonah was being sexually abused and battered every night. No matter how good he was at hiding it, someone was bound to notice. Vera noticed how pale and washed-out Jonah was. He wasn't getting a lot of sleep, and he looked tired and ill and worn-out all of the time. She thought it was because he was sleeping alone, and she tried to invite him to sleep in the attic with her and Davis.

Jonah politely declined, internally flinching at the thought of what Mark would do to him if he tried to hide again. It wasn't brought up again, not for a week.

---

Six days later, Jess and Jonah went fishing. Jess had found some poles and tackle in the basement, and he decided to take Jonah on a little trip, because the boy looked so worn-out.

Away from the house, a good three miles from Mark and all of his cruel mind games, Jonah was finally able to relax. Jess watched him carefully as those thin shoulders relaxed and those bloodshot eyes stopped moving in wary twitches and as his mouth relaxed from it's small worried frown.

"I can fish alone for a bit, are you tired?"

Jonah nodded, and it took all of his self-discipline to stop himself from crying. Jess set up a fishing pole and sat on a low tree branch with his line, looking around warily for both of them while Jonah curled up and snatched a few hours of deep restful sleep.

When Jess gently shook Jonah awake, the sun was starting to set, four hours had passed, and a dozen silvery fish dangled from a line that he had strung through their gills. Jonah was upset that Jess hadn't woken him up, but only a little. He whispered 'Thank y-you' in a timid little voice and they walked back to the house together. Jonah spoke very little now. He had developed a nervous stutter that made it hard for him to get words out.

---

Jonah worked on his garden. There had been a garden patch already, but the birds and deer had torn it apart without anyone to watch it. The garden was Jonah's baby. He had always had a green thumb, and the shed had plenty of seeds and sets. Jonah planted sweet corn and lettuce and tomatoes and turnips and pumpkins. He fertilized them from the RV's septic tank (it was filthy work, and everyone thought he was crazy), and watered them twice a day. He weeded tirelessly, and the first tiny green shoots were appearing.

He was putting in little tipis of sticks over the tomato shoots when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He froze, and he felt a cold pang of terror in the pit of his stomach.

"Hey Jonah, lets go into the RV, I wanna talk." He was nice Mark. He sounded so friendly. Jonah looked down at his hands in the dirt-caked pink work gloves. They were shaking. He nodded, knowing that if he tried to speak, the words wouldn't come out.

---

Sweat made his t-shirt cling to him, and made his hair stick to the back of his neck, but Jonah felt so cold. Mark was sitting on the RV couch, looking at him with that look that managed to be cruel and kind and derisive at the same time.

"You look hot. Close the door, and take off your clothes." His eyes were gleaming. This wasn't his style. Mark liked to be sucked off in the dark, this was new, and frightening.

Jonah opened his mouth, and then shut it. His tightly closed lips were pale and trembling. He closed his eyes, and hot tears leaked from over the lids as he clumsily peeled off his sweaty shirt. His arms were brown, and his chest was so pale. He had a purple welt on his ribs, and a bruise over his left nipple. Mark was getting rougher and rougher.

He kicked off his tennis shoes, and unbuckled his belt. His shorts fell to his ankles in a muted jingle. Mark stood up and Jonah flinched. He was scared. Part of him desperately hoped that someone would burst in, see what was happening. A trickle of sweat ran down the small of his back, and got sopped up by the waistband of his underwear.

Jonah saw the hand coming, and he lifted his own arm to try and ward it off. Mark's swinging arm clouted him on the side of the head, and he tripped over the shorts puddled around his ankles. Jonah fell on his side on the ratty carpet, the air knocked out of him, not hurt, but dazed. All of the sounds seemed to have been muted. Jonah looked up at Mark, and Mark seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Mark had steel-toed combat boots on. The next blow hit his ear, and the pain was sudden and blooming and enormous. Jonah's mouth opened in a soundless breathless shriek. Mark was tugging off his underwear, rubbing something thick and greasy between his buttocks. Mark was tugging his arms behind him, mashing his face into the filthy carpet, but Jonah couldn't struggle, couldn't resist.

Jonah managed to let out one sobbing cry as Mark grabbed his hips and plunged his cock deep in Jonah's ass. Jonah was greased up, but something inside of him ripped at the sudden and brutal invasion. Mark grabbed Jonah's sweaty shirt and pressed the wadded fabric against Jonah's wide sobbing mouth.

Jonah was dazed and hurting and so confused. His chest heaved air in uneven breathless gasps. His nose was clogged, and Mark was gagging his mouth. His vision darkened and thinned as he pulled in air desperately. Mark had his hands around Jonah's throat, throttling him as he fucked him. Jonah closed his eyes, feeling consciousness waver down to a blurry slice of light behind his swelling eyelids.

Jonah couldn't feel his ass anymore. It was over. What had happened? Everything was a blur of pain and garbled sounds.

Mark was in front of him. Jonah shrank away, feeling pain murmur and shriek up his body from a dozen bruises and strained muscles. Mark was breathing heavily, but Jonah couldn't hear it. The only reason he knew was because Mark's mouth was open wide and he could feel the stinky damp warmth of it against his cheek. His fly was open and his cock hung limp and swinging, shiny with grease and blood. Mark lifted him up onto the RV couch.

Jonah let out a hurt little whimper, but he could barely hear himself. It was as if the sound was coming from far away. He felt so numb. He was trying to remember what happened, but it was mostly a blank. He knew that Mark had raped him, kicked him, choked him, but he couldn't bring up the memories of it actually happening.

Mark was in front of his dazed weeping eyes again, and Mark looked worried. His handsome face looked weak and old and worried. He had a wet rag in his hand. He wiped the side of Jonah's face with it. Jonah could barely feel the lukewarm damp of the rag. The rag came away red.

That started to wake Jonah from his stupor. He started to let out gibbering moans. Half-formed words that ran together in a high-pitched strained whimper. He couldn't hear himself, barely hear himself.

Mark snarled at him, and the words sounded like they had come from the bottom of a deep dry well. "Shut the fuck up queer."

Jonah shut up. He was so terrified of Mark. Mark had done something to him, damaged him somehow. His left ear was starting to send pain-messages to his confused brain. The pain was huge and overwhelming.

Mark stayed there, looking grim, wiping his ear and ass with the wet rag. Sopping up the blood. Jonah finally blacked out, and was deeply grateful for it.

---

Jonah woke up, and it was dark outside. His body was so stiff. His mouth was a dry gritty pit. His throat felt swollen. His eyes were grainy and hot and aching. His ear was numb. His ass was throbbing, and hurt so bad.

Jonah forced himself to sit up. He had been lying naked on the couch, covered by a ratty blanket. His body was dripping with sweat. When he sat up, he was so dizzy that he fell down again. Something was wrong, he couldn't balance. The left side of his head felt heavy, and numb. Jonah tried again, and he lurched to the tiny bathroom, sobbing with the pain of his stiff body.

He looked in the mirror, stunned. His left ear, and his hair, and all down the side of his neck was crusted with blood. His left eye was bruised and swollen. His thin face was pale and frightened. He could make out several small dark bruises like a cluster of ripe grapes just above his collarbone, where Mark's fingers had dug in. He had bruises on his chest and stomach. His genitals were small and soft, nestled in his soft black pubic hair. His cock hurt, and there was a dark bruise on the side. He could see something dark on his inner thighs, but the mirror wasn't long enough to let him see.