“Well shit, what we got here then?” a voice said from above Sarah. The voice was sort of whiny and grotesque - if she had to describe the person from their voice she would say they were a degenerate drunkard. Likely a filthy and dishevelled sort; one who probably lived under a bridge. A troll. That would easily be the best descriptor. When the owner of the voice came into view, Sarah had to stifle a laugh because, as it turned out, sometimes stereotypes were there for a reason.

The garish man, with unkempt hair and a layer of dirt on his entire being, stared over at her and snorted his own trollish laugh.

“Can’t move much good now, can you pretty lady?”

In response to Sarah’s silence, he crouched down close to her face, and spoke in a wide mouthed gape.

“I said,” he enunciated his words as clearly as he could given the way his face was arranged, “you’re a bit fucked, aren’t youuuuuu?” His last word dragged on as his flappy lips failed to fully close over his crooked, yellow teeth. He didn’t have all of his teeth, and in place of the missing ones were swollen gums that had infections either dripping or pooling pus from them or the stagnating holes. If Sarah had anything in her stomach, the sight and smell of his presence would have caused a quick upheaval. Something she was almost sad to be without, since he would have been right in the trajectory.

Whatever the case for Rot-mouth to still be walking and his own form of talking, he must have been in possession of some strong pain-neutralisers to make it happen. Neither of the other two shadows had spoken yet, their movements still as Rot-mouth interrogated Sarah. She had a fleeting, naive hope that Rot-mouth would be the mouth-piece for all of them, and that he would soon finish his spiel and leave her to her conundrum.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

“Phwoar, she’s a good piece of meat innit?”

Meat. Ugh. Sarah's insides squirmed and she felt her stomach plummet.

The voice that added in that bit of poetry came to stand alongside Rot-mouth, his demeanour and appearance somehow dirtier than his friend, and with noticeable moving insects on his scabbed face.

Is that fleas? Oh my god.

Sarah was squirming as the two were hovering above her.

“Reckon she’d be good for it?” Fleabag elbowed Rot-mouth in the ribs jovially as the latter stood up.

“I reckon so,” Rot-mouth said to Fleabag.

“I reckon not.” Sarah spat out.

“Ohhhhh she speaks.” Rot-mouth leaned down again. “How’s it that you ended up here? In our turf? Pretty close to our bridge y’know?”

Fleabag looked away from Sarah, “Patty, what you think then?” He must have been addressing the third shadow, who slowly came into view, because no matter how you shook it Rot-mouth wasn’t a Patty.

A petite, almost child-like woman stepped forward. Sarah was hopeful now, that since there was a woman here, that maybe their intentions wouldn’t be dishonourable.

Patty crouched down alongside Rot-mouth, leaned in and took a loud, exaggerated sniff. “I reckon she’s good for it.” Her voice was whimsical, like how Sarah had always pictured a pixie might sound. “Fuckin’ cut her a new one boys.” Patty stood up and backed away.

Well she’s no fucking pixie, the wench.

Fleabag and Rot-mouth chuckled while Sarah groaned. She didn’t like where this was going, and, though she could move her hands, she still didn’t have much feeling in the rest of her body. Her hands though… maybe she could hit them? She wondered if she would be better off pretending as though she had no movement, to surprise them and spring into action when she needed it the most.

And where the fuck is Jax?

Sarah knew her brother was a bit of an asshole; he was erratic, a thief, a liar but one thing he had - despite it all - was… well, you can’t call it honesty or integrity, really. But he was usually good at keeping his word - to Sarah at least. And right now, that’s all that mattered.

Rot-mouth stepped out of Sarah’s view and she heard some zips opening, then some rustling. That had better not be his pants. She couldn’t help the gag, and bile that rose up.

Instead, though, Rot-mouth came back into view with a saw. Not a modern laser saw that would slice through anything in a second. Instead, it was a seriously rusted jagged-tooth-edged saw, the type that was displayed in museums.

What the fuck?

“I want the meaty leg,” Fleabag said.

“You’ll get what you’re given,” spat Patty, clearly already eyeing up my thighs. Patty seemed to be the leader, and the other two were there to do her bidding.

Sarah was torn. Being raped was definitely not something she wanted, but being cut up and eaten alive, well, shit. She hadn’t expected that this evening.

Where are you Jax?

Rot-mouth bent over Sarah, shooting a questioning look at Patty. She shook her head. “She can watch.”

Watch. They wanted me to watch them cutting my body parts off?

“Um, excuse me,” Sarah said, trying to sound meek and innocent, “but what is it exactly that’s happening here? What exactly am I meant to watch?”

Rot-mouth grinned wickedly, his putrid teeth on display once more. Fleabag did a

high-pitched excited giggle, while Patty gave me a sympathetic, almost motherly look.

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Sarah was momentarily hopeful that the motherly look meant she had misconstrued the entire encounter to date. Maybe they were here to just help her recover, maybe take her to a hospital? But, that caring look didn’t last long. A wolfish grin quickly rippled across Patty’s face as she said “Why dear, eat you of course!” Then she howled.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought.” Sarah lost the innocent, questioning tone. “And I’d really

prefer you didn’t.” While she tried to be aggressive, the howl rang in her ears and made her question her efforts here.

“Yeah, and we’d prefer you didn’t fuck up our homes and disturb our fishing, yet here we are.” She laughed and howled again.

“Fishing… you fish in that?” Sarah’s face twisted in disgust. The river was putridly polluted. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what was in there. How many fish might have more eyes than they should? or how many new species had begun their lives there? The state of the river, the smell that was currently emanating off Sarah, none of it was good, and she knew she would need a thorough exam from Doc Maureen when she got back to New Haven. She was flabbergasted that anyone would eat anything they had caught from this waste-filled waterway. Yet, it kind of made sense that these ‘people’ did…

Learning that tidbit about their lifestyle made Sarah realise that there was likely no point in trying to reason with Patty, Rot-mouth and Fleabag. If they were currently surviving off things caught in the river, who knew what sort of parasites, brain lesions, or diseases these guys had.

Patty’s crazy hair was flying in the breeze, as her maniacal grin stayed planted in place. Fleabag and Rot-mouth were looking at her, waiting for permission to start dismembering Sarah, all the while she just lay there.

An awkward minute passed, and Fleabag and Rot-mouth exchanged a concerned look, while Sarah’s own face turned blank, as she realised her fate was in the hands of these crazies.

“Hey, Patty… are you okay?” Fleabag asked, concerned.

At that she snapped out of her reverie. “What? Oh yes, fine - when are we ea-.” She stopped as she saw they were all staring at her. “And why haven’t you begun cutting her up into pretty little pieces? How else are we going to get dinner tonight, boys?”

“Oh yes, yes, sorry Patty.” Rot-mouth apologetically hustled his attention back to Sarah, blissfully clueless of - or perhaps ignorant to - the tenuous grip on reality that their leader had.

Rot-mouth placed the rusty saw on Sarah’s leg and after a moment of vigorous movement, stopped. The teeth hadn’t yet touched her skin, the thick jeans were preventing the manoeuvre quite nicely. He looked at Patty, unsure of how to proceed.

“Just cut them off her,” Patty said dismissively with a wave of her hand. “Or forcibly remove them.”

“Right you are Patty,” Fleabag said, and bent down to undo the button and zip of Sarah’s jeans.

She hissed and spat in his face.

“Cor, that was a bit fucking yuck.” He wiped the trail of spit from his face and backhanded Sarah in response.

“Hey!” Patty yelled, storming over “don’t bruise the meat!”

“Sorry boss,” Fleabag shrunk back.

“As for you,” Patty loomed over Sarah. “Don’t spit on my workers. We have a task to do, and we’re gonna do it.” Her eyes were fire, “I wanted you to be alive and awake for this, but you really don’t need to be.”

She wanted Sarah alive to suffer through the dismemberment, but would kill her if she fought? The conflict was breathtaking. If this was truly the end, Sarah knew she would fight as much as she could, but she was really just trying to hold out until Jax made it to wherever the hell she way.

Hurry up little brother.

“Let’s try again, shall we?”

Fleabag tentatively reached for Sarah’s pants again, weary of another spit assault, but Rot-mouth shook his head at him.

“Naw, doncha worry,” he cawed, then sucked on the remnants of his teeth, making a hideous slurping sound, “I’ll just cut quickly innit.”

He positioned the saw onto Sarah’s leg and started moving his arm back and forth, with greater force than he had before. The process of cutting through her jeans was quicker than she thought it would be, as the saw grated through the fabric, leaving frayed denim in its wake.

So much for reinforced denim.

The pressure from the jagged edges cutting into her leg seemed to reignite the feeling to the area. The twinge of stimulus on the site sent a shock soaring straight through Sarah and she let out a grunt of pain. Blood was dripping down her leg, and she could feel the muscle being cut through.

She could feel her leg, so that was good. Better than she expected to be able to do, considering less than five minutes ago she nearly couldn’t move a thing. An eerie calm fell over Sarah as she dissociated from the increasing pain radiating from her leg. Her eyes clouded over and she almost surrendered to the darkness that threatened to take her away from the agony that was all she could focus on.

In a flash, Sarah fought through the pain and grabbed the saw with her left hand, while she pulled Rot-mouth’s legs out from under him with her right. She pushed herself to her knees, the throbbing in her leg increasing tenfold, as she gasped and clenched her jaw tight against the pain. Sarah struggled up, waving the saw around, the muscles in her leg spasming in anguish as it tried to collapse under her.

“What?” Patty hissed, her wild eyes turning fierce. “We scanned you, the LENS doc-app said you had a broken back and were incapacitated…”

The words gave Sarah pause, but not for so long that she missed Fleabag telegraphing his punch. She dove to the side as he came at her, flipping the saw behind her in the process. The rusty piece of shit wasn’t going to be useful here. Sarah just wanted her LENS to turn back on so she could have some sort of read on them, being tech-blind through this encounter was making it all the more dire.

Sarah stumbled back, slipping in the pooled blood that had seeped off her leg, and faced off against the trio. Rot-mouth started to lunge at her, but Fleabag quickly grabbed his arm, causing the latter’s tongue to comically flop out of his rotted mouth. They both looked past me, then at Patty, and as quickly as the fight had started, they turned tail and ran.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah shifted the weight from her bad leg, trying to relieve some of the intense throbbing. She really hoped it was Jax they had seen, and not some fucking monster from the deep. Sarah could picture it now, a creature with more heads than brains, dragging itself from the river in her wake, enticed out by the scent of her blood.

Sarah was tired, and hopeful, that it wasn’t a monster behind her. Her leg was stinging, and she wanted a nap.

A low whistle reached her ears as she turned to see her cocky little brother sauntering over towards her.

“Thanks for the assist,” Sarah said sarcastically. “A little sooner would have been good.” She stumbled, but stayed upright.

“By the time we got here you were already on your feet.”

“Barely.” Sarah countered. Through the impending haze, she caught the discrepancy of his words. “We?”

Jax pointed ahead and to his left, where AJ gave a small wave.

“We would’ve helped if you needed it,” Jax continued. “But you were all good. Well, mostly.” He frowned at the bleeding wound on her thigh.

“We should get you back home and get Doc Maurs to look at that.”

“Maureen,” Sarah said automatically, “she hates it when you call her Maurs.”

Jax rolled his eyes, “you could be on your deathbed and you’d still be correcting and mothering me, wouldn’t you?”

Sarah gave him a playful shove, then fell to her knees as the extra exertion drained what little energy she had left.

“Oops, hold on there Sez.” Jax grabbed one side of her, while AJ quietly slipped to the other side, bracing her with an arm around her waist. Sarah slumped into the men as they started the journey back to New Haven.