3 comments/  17716 views/  12 favorites

Zombies Ch. 00

By: Corvecoupe



Authors Note: Alas this is a fairly long prologue which is depressingly remiss of any action of the carnal type, however, I think it's important to set the scene a bit. If you don't really care too much about plot and just want some action try moving onto to chapter 1:) Thanks for reading let me know what you think!

***

Prologue

I tracked left and right with my shotgun, the long barrel sweeping the deserted hallway as I crept silently, toe to heel, down the carpeted corridor. I forced myself to breath slowly and deeply, consciously filling my lungs as far as I could before exhaling. I'd learned before that if I didn't focus on my breathing I'd often hold my breath and inevitably panic. 

"Three, four," I slowly counted as I passed each door, whispering under my breath. When I reached eight the red crosses spray painted on the doors up until now ceased, I dropped the sack slung over my shoulder on the floor and withdrew the set of lock picks I kept on my belt. I'd been lucky with that find, turns out my neighbor three doors down had had a bit of an illegal hobby.

I deftly inserted the bent pick with my right hand and apply tension with the torsion wrench. I slowly and delicately slid the pick further in slowly depressing the pins where I found them until they all clicked into place. I would never be able to break into Fort Nocks, but I could handle a simply front door lock easily enough.

I slowly twisted the handle until I felt the door start to open; I steeled myself with a deep breath and gently pushed, trying to make as little noise as possible. The hinges were blessedly silent and without much more than a slight squeak I was across the threshold and standing in a stranger's home not knowing what I'd find. 

The layout was nearly identical to mine, not surprising since the apartment building I lived in only used three designs. I moved quickly through the apartment, completing a simple pass to ensure it was empty before starting a more thorough search. I opened all the wardrobes and cupboards that could hide an adult or child and when I had finally confirmed to my paranoid standards that the apartment was well and truly empty I let out a sigh and a silent prayer. I had no idea where the previous occupants were but wherever they were I hoped they were safe and alive. 

I started my search of the place, opening all the cupboards I'd previously left closed. I made a stock pile of all the tinned, jarred and dried food on the table. I'd learnt weeks ago not to even try the fridges, although occasionally there would a jar of pickles or olives that were still good, the smell of rotting meat and vegetables far offset that small bounty. When I'd stockpiled the food, I moved on searching through the rest of the apartment looking for anything useful. I scored half a dozen batteries, a nice bottle of single malt, and a book that looked fairly interesting.

I retrieve the sack I'd left outside the door and placed all my sundry finds into it before slinging it back over my shoulder, tying it off so it became a pseudo backpack, and held my shotgun in front of me again. 

"Four more apartments to go... but it i's only three o'clock. What to do, what to do," I'd developed the habit of speaking aloud over the past few months, with nobody else to talk to I just sort of slipped into, voicing aloud my internal monologue. 

"Well may as well get it done. That'll be all eleven floors then," I sighed a discontented sigh and moved on to the next dwelling. 

***

The next four apartments were fairly sparse, only filling up the rest of the half of the sack with food and not even having a battery to spare between them. I was in two minds about that, firstly I hadn't built up as much of a stockpile as I would like; but secondly it meant that the previous occupants might have had a fighting chance. 

I did a final tally of all my supplies and by conservative estimates I reckoned I had enough food to last two to four months, enough water to last three weeks and enough candles, torches and camp lanterns to bathe my life in light for a year, a bit over kill probably.

I settled onto the large couch that adorned the living room of the one bedroom flat with a nice dram of the single malt I picked up earlier that afternoon and a supper of tinned anchovies on stale cream crackers, spruced up with a few dashes of Tabasco.

The collection of solar lamps that now decorated the balcony and all my window sills were emitting a nice glow, bolstered by the large travel lantern on the coffee table. I picked up the book I'd also found that afternoon and began to read.

This is what life had become, scavenging apartments by day and drinking scotch and reading books by night. I was lonely and scared, tired of being cooped up in this dreadful building, fed up of being too scared shitless to leave my apartment and venture into the wide world.

My fear wasn't without foundation of course, since the event to step outside or to leave a known safe zone without a weapon and an attitude of utter vigilance could well be your death... or undeath as the case may be. Yes the inevitable had happened, the zombie apocalypse we had all been joking about for years but no-one took seriously swept through the globe. 

It started two months ago, rumors at first, fluff pieces on the end of the evening news: 'In China there are rumors of mass disease and famine throughout the...' or 'India suffers a breakout of cholera of epic proportions...' even '... the civil war runs rift through the small nation, one of the worst in Africa's bloody history."

Then the first outbreak started in the States and Europe; International travel was shut down but that was too little too late, the infected were already over here. Entire cities were quarantined but that didn't help, the virus went airborne and dispersed through the water supply. Within a week of case zero a quarter of the population came down with the fever, within a fortnight sixty percent of the population was dead and most of the rest were ill. The rich were affected just a badly as the poor, doctors and fishmongers took ill alike, the plague took nearly all that stood in its path. 

The world entered global financial meltdown, not that it mattered, nobody cared about money any more, nobody cared if they would make their mortgage, or even to whom they would pay it, all they hoped for was to live. The last service to shut down was the news; I had radio up until six weeks after the first outbreak in the western world. The last I'd heard was anywhere between 97 to 99.9% of the population had died, the urban areas being hit more than the rural. Nobody knew why, maybe the inbreeding in rural societies had spread the gene which prevented infection, then again the immunity seemed to be random. One brother would become ill whilst the other survived, children would remain immune whilst both parents suffered. Then again maybe we weren't immune, maybe we just had a longer incubation period.

Hell, what it came down to was there weren't enough left alive to figure it out. So many had died that even if there were enough scientists and doctors left alive to discover the origin of the disease and manufacture a plague there wouldn't be anybody to tell the rest of the world about it, let alone mass produce and distribute it.

Eight weeks after ground zero, two weeks after my last communication with the outside world, I'd met my first Zombie. They must have gotten ill and died in the apartment, nobody to bury them I suppose; I'd broken in feeling fairly confident only to be met by a decomposing mindless automaton, intent on nothing else than consuming my flesh.

I'd barely managed to escape its deathly cold grasp and accidentally toppled a bookshelf upon it, splitting its head clean open. I shook and shivered that night, haunted by dreams of reanimated bodies coming after me. It was that very day I had turned my apartment into a veritable fortress. I set up a mass of barricades in the corridor leading up to my apartment, pilfered a crowbar from one of my neighbors, loaded and practiced with the shotgun my grandfather had left me years ago.

It was strange, not all the deceased reanimated, there were several apartments I pilfered and found the still corpses of its former tenants, no sign of animation what-so-ever; I took no risk however and opened their skulls with the crowbar.

In the following two months I'd spent my time pouring over maps of Australia, salvaging as much food as I could, building up a small arsenal of supplies and reading up on everything I could, trying to be a master in everything from horticulture to first aid, from carpentry to mechanics.

*** 

I awoke the next morning with a mouth that felt like sandpaper. I'd fallen asleep on the couch, immersed in the novel I'd started, the bottle of whiskey half empty on the table before me. I moved to the bathroom and brushed my teeth with the aid of a bottle of water, and looked forlornly at my shower. The water had shut off months ago and whatever vestiges there were in the tanks had dried up not long after, either that or the water wasn't gravity fed from tanks on the roof. 

I consulted myself with a scrub of a flannel a healthy dose of deodorant before pulling my hair into some semblance of order. I pulled on my most comfortable pair of jeans, a long sleeved turtle neck sweater (it was getting chilly) and pulled on my hiking boots. Today was a big day, I was heading to the basement for the first time in several months. I'd put it off because without any artificial light it would be near pitch black down there and there wasn't much point anyway... well up until recently.

When I was fully ready, a headlamp in place and shot gun in hand, I slipped out the front door, locking the door behind me, and padded down the corridor, jumping over four barricades before reaching the staircase which spanned the core of the building. I descended quickly until I reached the second floor. This was the closest to the ground I'd been in three months. I steeled myself, knowing it was stupid, and continued down the stair case. I didn't bother breaking down the door to the first floor, there wasn't anything of value out there and there might just be a few unfriendlies. I paused at the basement door and switched on my headlamp. I didn't have to breakdown this door since it was the evacuation point for the building and would have been a severe fire risk if it were ever locked. I pulled the door open slid in a wooden chock just in case I needed to make a quick escape, and stole out into the near pitch blackness of the basement. 

The light on my forehead cut a swathe through the darkness, illuminating the area in front of me for about thirty feet in a ninety degree arc. 

My blood froze as to my left I heard a growl escape the throat of... something. I twisted violently, leveling the shotgun at the noise. My light illuminated the horrifying form of a reanimated corpse shuffling towards me. I panicked; the sight of rotting corpses still scared the shit out of me. I let out a pitiful sound, halfway between a sob and a whine. 

"Breath you asshole," I sobbed to myself and raised my shaking shotgun to aim at the unsteadily approaching figure. My finger squeezed impulsively against the trigger and the left barrel discharged, clean missing the approaching figure. That caught its attention; the corpse abandoned its shuffle and started towards me at a half walk half run.

The twenty meters became eighteen, then fifteen. I held my breath and forced myself to hold my gun more firmly; I aimed down the sights and pulled the trigger again, discharging the right barrel. To my delight I watch as the zombies body disintegrated in a gory explosion of blood, bone and rotting flesh. The stench was overwhelming and disgusting. I dry wretched several times before summoning the courage to approach the corpse on the floor, the mouth still mindlessly flapping.

I unbuckled the crowbar from my left hip and with a horrendous swing unleashed a devastation blow into the cranium of the zombie. Just before my blow collided I recognized the face staring at me, eyes rolling around in the head, half disintegrated and falling off. It was Andrew, my building manager slash super. The man who had helped me carry furniture to and from my apartment, the man who had spent countless hours with me pouring over the engine of the forty year old Volvo injecting life into the old heirloom I'd been delivered on the back of a flatbed truck one day. Andrew, the man who had shared many a drink with me in the local pub as we tried to win Trivia time and again.

I sobbed over my lost friend, the tears falling unbidden from my eyes. I permitted myself a minute, or as far as I could tell what a minute was, before dragging myself up off my knees and back to the dreary task of sweeping the garage of enemies.

The rest of the basement was devoid of any life, or unlife. I found Andrew's office on the lowest level, broken into, or more accurately out of, glass strewn on the floor and dark red stains all over the concrete floor. 

I'd taken a collection of car keys with me, pilfered from the rest of the building, and managed to locate a dozen cars which I had keys to. Eight were small sedans, fuel efficient but incapable of carrying much more than two or three suitcases and absolutely useless off road; two were small SUV's, slightly better than the sedans but not by much; one was a fantastic metallic red Jaguar XK, sleek, sexy and supremely tempting but alas probably the least useful car yet. I hit the jackpot with the twelfth car: a small H2 hummer. It wasn't the most fuel efficient car in the world but it could drive probably drive over the XK without suffering as much as a scratch (although that would be a travesty).

I managed to find half a dozen fuel cans from various cars I broke into, cautious owners preparing for the worst, all of them bone dry.

"Fuck, shit, damn, Christ!" I yelled out, turning the air blue with my curses, as I lifted the last jerry can and found it completely devoid of anything but dust and broken dreams. 

"What to do, what to do," I called up images and paragraphs located in the many books I'd read over the past months. There was something in one of them... a schematic of the undercarriage of a car resolved itself in my mind. Gas tank, sump, drive shaft, axle, differential....

"What is it?" I mused allowed, knowing full well I was missing something, many things probably.

"Fuel lines!" I yelled allowed, in a Eureka moment, jumping up in the air and giving a fist pump straight out of an eighties movie. I grabbed a fuel can and with a massive smile on my face slipped under the nearest car on a makeshift mechanics creeper, a skateboard with three wheels, and located the fuel line.

"Here goes nothing," I prayed as I unclipped the knife from my belt and severed the line, quickly placing one end of the hose into the fuel can. I smiled as I heard, and seconds later smelt, the precious liquid flow into the can. 

I spent the next hour filling up the remaining six tanks from cars to which I didn't have the keys and topped up the tank of the H2. All in all I emptied the tanks of eleven cars and spent an effective morning ferrying down the food and supplies I'd stockpiled into the near mammoth H2 I had commandeered as my own. 

***

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, just as the sun would head towards the western horizon, not that you'd know it in the basement, when I at last began my final trip out of the basement for that evening. The first thing I did was get into the hummer and twist the keys in the ignition. The engine started first time, which was surprising as I had honestly assumed I would have to jump it using one of the other cars, probably the Jag as they had fairly decent batteries. I put the gear into reverse and slowly backed out of the parking lot, carefully navigating the confines of the parking lot. All I had to do was move it closer to the exit then I could spent one more night in my apartment before leaving for what could feasibly the rest of my life.

The smile which had spread across my face at this thought vanished in an instant as I parked at the large roll down gate that prevented any intruder enter the car park. All this planning, all this work over the past months, all my contingencies and contingencies of my contingencies and I'd never considered how the fuck I would get out of this shitting garage!

I screamed in frustration and disgust, pounding my hands against the steering wheel. Without power there was no way in hell I'd be able to raise the iron gate which rolled down from the ceiling, it must weigh a couple of tones at least!

"Oh you fucking idiot Charles! You fucking dumb piece of shit!" I swore again, slapping my both hand, scrunching closed my eyes. It was in a dejected mood I slowly made my way up twelve stories and entered my apartment, crashing on the couch in a fit of despair that lasted for long hours. The only time I moved was to refill the whisky glass or drag a blanket over my body. My mind raced, I couldn't use a jack to raise the gate, even if I got two or three powerful enough to do it they wouldn't ever be able to raise it high enough. I couldn't saw through the bars, it would take weeks, I might be able to reduce the time if I had a plasma cutter or blow torch but even if I was lucky enough to find one it would require electricity. 

It wasn't until eleven or twelve that and idea finally came to me, I'm not sure if it was the drunken stupor I was in or just the hours spent pontificating but a viable idea had finally come to me. It was with a sense of anticipation I drifted off to sleep that night, in my own bed for perhaps the last time.

***

The sun broke through the grimy window with a false sense of cheeriness. I awoke, and took a long drink of a bottle of water that habitually lived on my dresser. I felt my head pounding and staggered to the bathroom where I used the loo, flushing the loo with a bucket of rain waiter that I'd collected from the roof, and popping a couple of pills from the medicine cabinet. 

I changed into a fresh set of clothes and hefted a large backpack onto my shoulders. I glanced around the apartment one final time, despairing in the emptiness which I saw around me. I hadn't bothered to take most of it, but in places where I should have found prized possessions I found nothing.

I had took the luxury of storing my crystal ware into the car already, my liquor cabinet was stored there as well, my modest library similarly and the thick wardrobe practically empty. I patted the walls one final time and left the apartment, locking it behind me and slipping the keys into my pocket. I'm not sure why I did that, I probably shouldn't have bothered but there was something familiar about locking a door after you left.

I took the stairs two at a time, practically racing to the basement. I clicked on my forehead flashlight once again and entered the darkness. I loaded the supplies in the back of my H2 before driving it back down to the level below.

"Here goes nothing," I grabbed a fuel can off top of the car and a pair of wire cutters out of the cache of useful supplies I had stored in the boot. I deposited the jerry can at the large gate and then on one last shopping trip.

Each apartment had a storage cage located in the basement, spread all over the two floors. I moved from one to the other, cutting the wire to gain access when I felt it necessary, and hauling several bags, boxes and small containers of fertilizer up to the first level.

It was something I'd read in a farming and agriculture book last month: '... perhaps the most efficient way of removing tree stumps and other obstacles around the farm is to use an improvised explosive derived from Ammonium Nitrate Fuel Oil. AN/FO, is used extensively throughout the world as it is both cheap and effective. However, it is also very unstable and should only be .... The approximate ratio should be 94% Ammonium Nitrate to 6% Fuel Oil or 2 quarts of Fuel Oil per 50 pounds of Ammonium Nitrate..."


Zombies Ch. 00



The fertilizer I'd pilfered would serve as the Ammonium Nitrate and the Gasoline would serve quite well as the Fuel Oil. I got to mixing, and after a steady hour of work ended up with a large pile of slippery, greasy fertilizer which I packed into a 44 gallon drum, still reveling at the pointless stuff people stored in their storage cages, and placing it on its side, the open aperture pointing towards the gate.

I ran two ends of an insulted wire, pilfered from Andrew's office, through a homemade detonator (a shotgun shell buried deep in the mixture) to a point eighty meters away, behind a reinforced concrete wall. I had stripped the insulation from the wire where it had ran through the shotgun shell, and hoped to god my basic knowledge in chemistry, physics and electronics worked.

I took the two ends of the wire and connected one end to the red terminal of the car battery pilfered from the Jaguar and closed my eyes and prayed. In tense moment I touched the other wire to the negative end of the terminal of the car battery, essentially creating a short circuit.

"Ouch!" I let out a yell, as the battery was sparked; but my voice was drowned out by a low boom followed by a much louder one. I felt a rumble flow through the ground and the wall I was leaning against shake fiercely.

'Fuck what if I bring the entire place down around my ahead?' I thought frantically in a moment of terror as I came to terms with what I had done. Smoke and dust filtered through the basement, the light of my flashlight illuminating it as it engulfed me. I coughed and pressed a handkerchief to my face.

"Time to see my dirty work," with slow steps, terrified that I'd failed, I rounded the corner to see a fantastic sight. The gate was a mangled mess lying around the floor of the basement. I wasn't sure exactly what happened but I assumed that the tremendous force that blew against the gate induced a moment that tore the top of the gate straight out of its bearings, causing it to crash straight down onto the basement floor. 

I jumped in joy and yelled, despite the dull thudding in my ears blocking out all noise. It was in that moment that I noticed the zombie heading down the ramp at a fierce stagger; barely keeping itself from falling over it was moving that quickly. 

"Shit!" I yelled again. Here I was so caught up in my excitement and my plan I had keen forgotten about the risks of creating too much noise or motion. My shotgun and crowbar were stowed carefully in the car; the only weapon I could feasibly call upon was a pair of wire cutters sitting in my pocket. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," I yelled again as I sprinted for the H2, all too aware that there was probably more than one zombie on its way right now to my location. I hastily yanked open the door and slid into the driver's seat, exhaling deeply. 

It wasn't exactly a close call, after all whilst I could run and sprint it appeared that zombies could barely manage more than a slow jog and often not even that. Still deadly in close quarters still but out in the open with plenty of space they were easy to avoid, provided you weren't facing too many.

Still, there was something terrifying and deeply wrong about a reanimated human corpse. Something in your soul that just screamed out against the travesty. I shook my mind to clear it and turned on the engine. Only after the headlights flooded the area with light did I turn off my forehead torch. 

I slipped the engine into drive and started up the spiral ramp which separated the first floor from the second. I paused when I got to the to, peering through the smoke only just starting the thin as it escaped outside.

"There you are you little fucker," I addressed the lone zombie still shuffling forward, now a lot less scary with a car weighing several tones protecting me, "Say hello to my little friend."

And on that horrendous cliché I gunned the engine, mowing the zombie down in an explosion of blood and guts, not even slowing down as I drove over the twisted iron gate that had once kept my segregated from the outside world.



Zombies Ch. 01



Authors Note: The first real chapter of this story and some sex at last! If you've missed it please read the prologue for some plot background:) As always comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading.

Chapter 1

Zoey slipped out of her small house and stole across the street quiet as a mouse, the darkness shielding her as she made her way to the small pub just down the road. She darted from shadow to shadow, uncomfortable with how bright the moon shone tonight.

She was scared but also slightly excited. For close to three months she'd scarcely seen a soul, there had been three cars or four cars traveling on the highway a kilometer away but nothing passing through the village.

But that had all changed tonight; tonight the hotel which had once been the highpoint of the nightlife in this small town she called home once again had light shining through its windows. She moved up the street until she was crouched behind a dumpster peering in through the large windows at the front of the Prince Alfred Hotel. 

Inside she spied a strange sight, a young man decisively moving through the large array of alcohol still stocked behind the bar. She'd never been a drinker and her town was evacuated before a run on the local stores could occur. She'd hidden out in her cellar, refusing to leave her sick parents, whilst the army went from house to house, forcibly removing all those who wouldn't come willingly. 

She watched as the strange man rejected bottle after bottle, moving down the shelf, until he finally reached a dusty bottle that had sitten undisturbed on the top shelf for a fair while. Zoey watched as the stranger uncorked the bottle and poured a large dose into a glass. She had to admit with his short brown hair, tall frame and athletic body he was pretty cute, from this distance at least.

"What do I do?" She whispered to herself, having become accustomed to voicing aloud her internal monologue. She was scared at what would happen if she approached the stranger. It wasn't the fact that he might turn violent that scared her, well obviously that did scare her but she felt the risk was mitigated by the revolver wedged in the back of her jeans. It was her grandfathers from the war; he'd brought it back from Germany back when the government was less stringent on those type of things. She had a half dozen shots in the barrel and another three dozen in a box in the house. The gun had been kept clean through the years and she'd practiced with it enough during the first stages of the apocalypse to know how to use it. If Zoey had to admit to herself what she really scared of, it was probably the fear of rejection.

"Well fuck it," she whispered, standing up, one hand on the handle of the revolver in her back as she slowly walked across the street to the hotel. She knocked loudly on the door and watched as the stranger got the veritable shock of his life, clean dropping the bottle still clenched in hand.

***

I was standing in a pokey old hotel called the Prince Alfred, a name which gave me a good chuckle when I first spied, it, sipping a fairly decent single malt when the last thing in the world that I'd expected to happen occurred. A knock sounded on the old door. The bottle of Highland Park slid straight out of my hand and I spun around to see who was knocking, hoping against hope it wasn't a zombie banging into something.

"Shit," what I saw was a much bigger shock than seeing a zombie and also a far better sight. A young women, I'd estimate about twenty or twenty-one, stood in the threshold. Her blonde hair ran in ringlets down the side of her face, accentuating her large almond eyes and full red lips.

"Hello," She greeted, her voice was soft and calm, a surprise since mine was the furthest thing from calm imaginable.

"Hey," I croaked, my hand shaking so much I spilled most of my whiskey on to the bench top.

"I'm Zoey," She moved a step closer, her right hand stretched out in front of her, her left behind her back.

"I'm Charles," I placed my nearly empty glass on the bench top and extended my own hand towards her. Her shake was delicate yet firm and her hands were soft without a hint of a callous. 

"Pleasure to meet you," I couldn't help it, I laughed at this, "What?"

"Well this is just so absurd," I explained, trying to suppress my laughter.

"How so?" She was smiling now and god was it a smile! Her pearly white teeth were perfectly straight and she had two cute little dimples in her cheeks.

"Well, I mean we're two of god knows how few survivors in the world and I don't know about you but your first alive person I've seen since this thing happened; yet we're acting as if the social etiquette rules still apply!"

"I guess it is kinda surreal," She admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

"Kinda? Damn this is hella-surreal!" I smiled and leant against the bar, "So tell me... Zoey, tell me all about you?" 

"You mean about my life before or after the Events," I could tell by the emphasis she put on Events that that was clearly her way of thinking about what I had nicknamed the Apocalypse. 

"Everything, both and neither. Sorry where are my manners," I paused, grinning like a loon, "Would you like a drink?" I motioned to the extensive bar behind me.

"Thanks, but I don't really drink," she said, smiling as she said so.

"Are you sure? I make a great cocktail?"

"Thanks all the same," She took a bar stool, one arm leaning on the bar, the other resting on her leg. She started her story, telling me of how her parents had gotten ill, how she had refused to leave them to die alone, even when the fever had wrecked their body and left them nonlucid most of the time. She told me of how she sat with them when they died and finally buried them in the backyard. She told me of how she had moved from house to house, caring and later burying the sick and ill. 

She told me of how she had done her own stockpile of food, how she had busied her days over the past three months. When she reached the end of her chilling tail she then jumped back in time to well before the invasion, telling me of her childhood and her family, how she had gone to high school in the area but escaped to the big city for university, how she was only home on holidays when it all started. When she had eventually run out of words I put down the scotch I'd been steadily drinking and just looked at her.

"Shit, that's some life. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, being sorry never helped anything. Anyway, I have no doubt you have an equally depressing tale," I told briefly of my childhood, how my parents had moved to the UK when I was young and shipped me home to my grandfather's farm during summer holidays. I'd spend long hours shooting, rounding up the animals, fixing broken fences and a hundred other tasks synonymous with running a farm. My grandfather passed away three days before my 16th birthday and that was the last time I ever went to farm, he left a few things, including his old shotgun with a friend, but I could never bring myself to return to the farm itself; I was scared that if I ever did go back it'd feel empty without his large heart and larger soul to fill the place. I'm not really too sure what happened to it, I think the family ended up selling it to one of the adjacent properties.

I finally moved back to Australia when I was 18 and it was time to start university. I'd lived here ever since, only returning to England for two months over Christmas each year. The last time I'd seen my parents was six months ago and I had no idea if they were alive or not, I assumed they probably weren't but had no real proof and that slight hope had been a great comfort some nights, when all I wanted to do was curl up and die. I told her of my exploits in my apartment building and my eventual escape in the large Hummer still parked outside. I told her of my egress from the city and my eventual plan to head deep inland, hoping there might be some small desolate town that hadn't been affected or failing that a government restoration camp. 

It was only when I told her about the zombies that she said anything, up until that point she had contented herself with moans of approval or sorrow depending on what best fit the situation.

"Sorry you saw a what?" She eyed my carefully and then looked accusingly at my whiskey, clearly assuming I was drunk.

"I saw a zombie, a walking dead, a reanimated corpse."

"Yeah okay,"

"Listen I'm not drunk," I ruined my statement slightly by taking that moment to knock over the glass in front of me.

'Sure okay,"

"Are you telling me you haven't seen any?"

"Any what? Zombies? No I haven't surprisingly enough," her hand had disappeared from her leg and was pressed against her back where I assumed she had secreted a weapon.

"Honestly, I'm not fucking with you. Honest to god I saw a zombie, killed a dozen of them so far. You've probably buried all yours!" I was angry that she didn't believe me but hardly surprised.

"Easy there, easy there," she had gotten off the bar stool and took a step towards the door.

"Sorry, come back," I calmed down a bit, scared of losing the only human contact I'd had in a quarter of a year, well living contact that is, "Listen you don't have to believe me, but that's what I saw. Why don't I just move on with my tale?"

She treated the rest of my tale slightly more dubiously and I omitted all further mention of the undead from that point. I figured she'd have to see it to believe it; fair enough I would have too.

"Listen," She finally said when I finished my tale, "It's late and I'm tired. If you can hang around another day we can talk more tomorrow?"

"Yeah that sounds great," I yawned too and put the glass in the sink, automatically twisting on the tap before realizing there was no water, just as there was no electricity. 

"Well I'll see you in the morning then," Zoey turned around and walked out the door, showing me the revolver she had secreted in her jeans. I watched her go, admiring the sway of her ass as she trailed into the night. I waited until she had departed before picking up the shotgun that had been resting against the bar next to my leg. When I had my weapon safely in my grasp again I moved up the stairs in the back of the hotel and made my way to one of the rooms they kept above the bar. I broke in using my crowbar and created a hasty barricade after by dragging the chest of draws in front of the door. It wasn't that I didn't trust Zoey, but in this new world it didn't pay to be anything less than cautious, even when it came to potential allies.

I eventually fell asleep, the shotgun no more than an arm's reach away, my mind buzzing with both the alcohol and the discovery of another living soul.

*** 

Zoey left the bar with mixed feelings. On one hand she had met another living soul, but on the other he had clearly been on his own far too long.

"Zombies," she scoffed, closing her door and locking it behind her. She padded upstairs in the near pitch darkness, knowing the home like the back of her hand. She stole into her bedroom and locked and closed that door behind her too. 

'Can't ever be too prepared,' her father used to tell her and those words had stuck with her through it all.

She kicked off her ballet flats and peeled of the hoodie and t-shirt she was wearing. She stood in the mirror in just her bra and jeans. She ran a hand over her chest, cupping her breasts and wistfully staring at their reflection, wishing they were bigger.

"Silly me," She said let going of bosom and turning away from her reflection, "I meet a pretty boy and all I can think about is how I look." She tried to banish all thoughts of him from her mind as she unbuttoned the skin tight denim and pushed her jeans off her hips, wriggling until they lay in a pile on the floor. She moved to the bed and lifted the pillow, pulling out the pajamas she kept there. 

She was just about to pull on the pink floral patterned nightwear when she stopped and reconsidered. It wasn't that cold of a night and beside... she didn't feel like going to sleep just yet. Maybe it was Charles, or maybe it was because it'd been a week since she'd gotten herself off, but whatever the reason she felt that familiar itch.

She lay on the bed and let her fingers play across her body; starting with her breasts, slowly stroking and massaging them above the bra. She let the small tendrils of pleasure rekindle the fire that was smoldering deep within. 

Zoey's right hand released its breast and slowly stroked down her stomach, an image came to her mind unbidden, a shirtless Charles stroking her the exact same way she was now. The hand brushed over her belly-button and continued further south until it reached the elastic of her underwear.

In her mind Charles was teasing her, tracing the lines but refusing to touch the sensitive flesh that lay beneath.

"Please, please," she whispered to nobody but herself, imagining a fierce battle of the wills. Her hand finally obliged her whispered pleas and began to stroke the fleshy triangle through the cotton briefs she wore. Her fingertips dipped lower and lower until it reached her nether lips. She teased around her slit, not quite daring to put any pressure on her most sensitive areas yet.

Zoey abated her self-pleasure for a quick second to reach around her back and undo the clasp of her bra. Her breasts, 36 C and quite acceptable despite her own misgivings, sprang free from their enclosure, her large brown nipples fully erect. She used the fingers of her left hand to pull, squeeze and generally just tease the two nubs while her right returned to its previous position. 

She allowed herself to slowly stroke her clit through the faded orange underwear, slowly getting into the rhythm and feeling herself get moist.

"Oh yeah," she moaned, enjoying the slow stabs of pleasure that coincided with every brush of her clitoris. She abated the pleasure of her nipples and let her second hand slip down her soft smooth body to rest atop the elastic of her undies. She lifted her ass off the bed and wriggled free of the slightly damp clothing. 

Her left hand played with the soft short blonde curls that adorned the triangle betwixt her legs whilst her right gathered some lubricant from her wet opening before again flicking across her clitoris. She rolled the sensitive nub slowly between her middle and ring finger, slowly sliding her hand up and down. 

Her back writhed on the soft Egyptian cotton sheets, loving the expansion of the ball of pleasure located deep behind her navel. Her head rolled back and her eyes closed, her the rhythm of her hand upon her clit speeding up. Her left hand stopped running through her golden curls and slipped down to her wet entrance. By kicking elbow out the side she managed to slip her middle finger inside herself until two and a half knuckles were buried inside her tight wet vagina. She curled her middle finger and slowly rubbed her front wall, trying to but not quite able to reach her g-spot. Instead, she wriggled a second finger inside herself and began thrusting slowly. 

The pleasuring rolling through her grew and grew until she was soon bucking her hips without abandon; muffled screams escaped her mouth as she moved closer and closer to that elusive orgasm. Her fingers were pistoning in and out of herself hard and fast whilst the rubbing on her clit had fastened to a near blur. She pushed her hips into her hands and raised her ass clear off the bed. She could feel the waves of pleasure growing larger and larger. 

She bit her lip hard as her fingers massaged and plunged deep into her sex, she could smell the pungent smell of her desire and hear the sloshing of her own wetness as she approached her orgasm. It only took a few seconds before she was bucking fiercely and all but yelling, the orgasm breaking over her body like a tidal wave. Her walls clenched down on her fingers and she held tight onto her mound, lost in her own desire. 

When the orgasm finally subsided she slumped back onto the bed and, with a bit of effort, slipped her fingers out of her opening. Still in a half comatose state she lay there and just waited, waited either for her senses to come back to her or for sleep to overtake her.



Zombies Ch. 02



Authors note: Hey, thanks for taking the time to read this, I hope it lives up to expectations. I know it is really slow starting but I'm enjoying building the characters and don't want them jumping into bed (hehe) together right away. If you're looking for instant gratification come back in a few chapters:) Thanks again for all comments; they really help my focus and motivation. Also I knocked this one out in the middle of the night so if it's a bit incoherent I apologize. Well here goes...

***

Sunlight streamed through the windows and seemed to shine straight into my face. After hiding my head under the covers for thirty minutes wishing that the sun would just turn off, I extracted myself from the bed and grabbed a pair of running shorts out of my bag.

It had been a long time since I'd gotten any real exercise, living as a recluse in an apartment building for 2 months hardly gives you a chance to show off your athletic prowess. After I was dressed... well sort of dressed, a pair of shorts, shoes and hydration belt, I was ready for my third run in as many days.

I was never exactly the most fit person on the planet, but just before the outbreak I'd been training for the half marathon and was finding it easy to get back into the swing of things; almost ironic really: my entire life gets turned upside down and my body hardly seems to notice!

I slipped a bottle of water into one of the two bottle slots and my crowbar into the second slot; it was just far too unwieldy to run with a shotgun and if what Zoey had surmised was correct, then there really was no danger.

After a few minutes struggling with the chest of drawers barricading the door, apparently it was easier to move it into place than out of place, a quick stretch and a selection of upbeat running tracks from my iPhone, I was ready and took off for a more personal tour of the town than I'd had the chance of the previous night.

The town itself was small, even for rural Australian standards. I doubted if there were more than two or three dozen houses and about half that number businesses. I laughed inwardly to myself, so typical of these towns, don't have a doctor's office, supermarket or even traffic lights, but still manage to have a pub: true blue.

I was enjoying the slight burn in my hamstrings and shortness of breath that accompanied the exercise, like I said it had been far too long since I'd gotten my heart rate up with anything beside stimulants or terror. 

After what I imagine would be three or four K, I was just finishing up my loop of the town and returning back down the main strip when I ran into Zoey... literally. I was fiddling with my iPhone, trying to get the music to pause when next thing I know I go from a slow jog to a rather hasty fall.

"Wow shit," I said, arms pinwheeling violently trying to stop myself from going over.

"Haha, easy there big fella," Zoey remarked as she disentangled herself from my sweaty body and backed up so a few feet were between us.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," I pulled out my right head phone, the music still pumping, and panted softly.

"That's alright, no harm no foul right? Anyway, I'm not sure what your food stocks were like so I thought you might be interested in breakfast?" she held up a picnic basket which, judging by the way she held it, was anything but empty.

"You, my dear, are a shining star,"

"A shining star? The first complement I get in months and that's what it is?" A smile played across her face to match my own. There's nothing like a bit of human interaction to warm the cockles of your heart.

"Well am I wrong? I mean after all you've brightened up my day," I nodded at the picnic basket she held in her left hand.

"Men," she scoffed, "all you ever think about is food."

"Well, I mean you do have certain other qualities like a star I'm sure. Let's see you're golden hair is certainly a match, you appear to have a strong inner fire and... oh yes ofcourse! You're incredibly hot!" I was feeling giddy up until this point but as the color drained away from her face and she took another step back I sobered up immediately.

"Oh god sor-"

"Don't move!" She cut me off and quick as a flash she had whipped out the old army service revolver she had tucked in the back of her jeans. I just stood there, the gun pointed in my direction, a grin still fading from my face.

My breath was racing, only in part due to the exercise, and I still had music pumping into one ear. I raised my hands slowly and started in a slow calm voice, "Woah there.."

That was as far as I got, next thing I knew her finger squeezed around the trigger and I saw a flash of light.

***

Zoey woke up feeling content, she had fallen asleep on top of her covers and lay naked in all her glory as the sun streamed through the window and played across her young supple body. She reveled in the warm touch of the fiery orb for several long minutes before finally dragging herself out of bed.

She glanced at the watch she had left on her chest of drawers the previous night and was shocked to find the time to be 9:13. She rummaged through her cloth drawer and finally emerged from her bedroom clad in her worn and very comfortable jeans with a white tank top to match, it looked like a warm day.

She spent several minutes going about her normal morning routine, brushing her teeth, using the facilities, that type of thing, before heading down into the kitchen to root around in the cupboard for a suitable breakfast.

"I wonder if Charles would like to join me?" she mused aloud, rummaging through the bags and boxes and cans of preserved food she had built up over the months. Eventually she decided upon a bag of muesli, a large carton of long life milk she'd been rationing carefully, half a box of digestive biscuits, a couple of oranges picked from neighbors trees the previous day and two boiled eggs. 

She headed briefly into the back garden to restart the fire she kept in a pit there, and when the flames were licking healthily long a couple of short logs, she hung an old fashioned kettle over the center to heat up.

"What about a picnic?" Zoey asked no-one in particular half way through packing the bounty into several large green-reusable shopping bags. For some reason the idea appealed to her, perhaps it was the weather or the newly found company, but regardless she then spent the next ten minutes hunting around in the cellar with a torch looking for the old family picnic basket.

When Zoey eventually found the small little wickerwork basket, it took several minutes and a lot of sneezing to dispel the dust from where it had laid for several years but eventually the hamper looked good as new.

She packed the basket carefully, lining up the boxes and bags so they all fit snugly and the basket was fairly evenly balanced. That was something she had always loved doing since a little kid, even when they went on holiday her favorite part seemed to be packing and unpacking, it was like a puzzle for the real world!

When the hamper was packed she ventured back into the back yard to find the kettle boiling away nicely, a few minutes later she had a large canteen filled with tea and was ready to leave the house. She was halfway out the door before she remembered she had clean forgotten the gun.

"Eurgh it's all the way upstairs," she grumbled to herself and almost convinced herself not to bother to get it when she heard her father's voice 'Can't ever be too prepared' echo around her head.

"Fine, fine fine," she moaned as she set aside the hamper and stomped up the stairs to retrieve the precious little weapon. 

It was a luxurious day outside, the sun was shining and a small breeze blew through the town yet it wasn't too hot thanks to it being the tail end of the season. She walked briskly until she reached the high street and was shocked to see Charles already up and about and going for a morning jog of all things!

"Wow," she muttered under her breath. He did strike an impressive figure, his chest was glistening with sweat and she could easily make out his clearly defined pecs and tight stomach, her imagination didn't really do him justice.

She was so stunned by his athletic figure that she stood frozen allowing him to run clean into her. 'Eww sweaty!' she internally squealed and put a few feet between them.

The conversation was fairly standard but made a thousand percent more exotic by the simple fact that it was a conversation with another person. She had to struggle to suppress a blush when he called her a shining star for putting together breakfast.

Charles was halfway through comparing all the way she did indeed resemble a star when something caught Zoey's eye that took her mind clean off the flirting. Out of one of the small alley that entered onto the main street came a stumbling figure of a man but one look was all you needed to know that this was clearly not a well and healthy man.

His jaw flapped eerily in the wind, dislocated by the look of it, a large deep cut ran down his entire left arm, his clothes were ripped to shreds and were only hanging on by the barest of threads, and he was a waxy pale whitish-green color.

All emotion drained from Zoey, the warm feelings she'd been entertaining in the pit of her stomach moments ago dissipated quicker than steam from her kettle and she was left shaking and white.

"Don't move!" She called out to the quickly approaching man and took several quick steps back. Charles only registered in the back of her mind, he had frozen too but she wasn't sure if it was because of her command or he too had seen the... the.... Zombie?

The creature closed in far too quickly for her liking and time seemed to slow, it was barely six feet from Charles now and she found it almost impossible to believe he couldn't have noticed it! What did she do? Her mind and body froze, torn between running and fighting, she was a rabbit caught in the spotlight.

"Oh god," Charles began and that managed to snap her out of her reverie. She reached one hand around her back and pulled out the revolver, holding it in a double fist as she had done countless times before. She took a quick breath and on the exhale steadied her aim and squeezed the trigger.

The kickback slammed the pistol up high into the air as the bullet soared across the short space between herself and the zombie. She watched as it passed Charles, missing his head by scant inches, to explode fiercely into the skull of the reanimated corpse.

***

"What the fuck!" I yelled at the crazy bitch that had apparently just shot at me. Silent tears ran down her face and my ears rang with the shot. It was then that I noticed she wasn't focusing on me, a monumentally stupid thing not to do when you're shooting at a target, and my sluggish brain started to put two and two together.

My nose reacted first, picking up a sickly sweet smell barely distinguishable beneath the heavy odor of gunpowder. I knew that smell far too well, it was the smell of death. I spun around and got the shock of my life, barely five feet from me lay a deceased zombie, head blown open by the force of the round Zoey had delivered into it.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit," I muttered quickly, ripping the other headphone out of my ear. I felt the shakes coming along and tried to fight them back; when I turned back around to face Zoey I found her with the gun still outstretched doing a far worse job than I at fending off the shakes. 

In two quick strides I was before her and then I was hugging her, gently rocking her and making shushing noises into her ear. I gently disengaged her hand from the gun and pocketed it. She stood there like a wet fish, just letting me hold her and tell her it would be alright.

Eventually I got her to lead me back to her house, she was still in shock and I had one arm wrapped around her shoulders whilst I carried the picnic basket in the other. Her house, when we reached it, was a two story, white-panel wood affair, very picturesque. We pushed in through the front door, unlocked which I promptly rectified the second we were inside, and I deposited her on one of the couches in the entry room/living room. I grabbed a blanket off the back of a couch and wrapped it around her.

"I'm just going to find some water," I whispered softly and calmly, before taking the basket and moving into the kitchen at the back of the house to try and find something for her to drink. Upon the bench there stood a large bucket filled with water, a ladel and a collection of glasses, upside down on a tea-towel, presumably drying.

I filled one up and brought it to Zoey, pressing it into her hands. I slung an arm around her and just rocked her silently for long minutes, letting her deal with the ordeal. In a sick twisted way I was almost jealous of her, when I found out about the Zombies I didn't have anybody to comfort me, instead I found salvation in the bottom of a bottle.

Time drifted on and I wasn't sure of the exact passing, the clock on the wall had stopped one day at 3:39, but I judged it would be nearly eleven or twelve. 

"Hey," I eventually broke the silence, stroking her cheek where it lay in my lap.

"Hi," she croaked out, apparently on the verge of tears.

"I know you're not okay so I'm not even going to ask, but do you want to talk about it? Sometimes that helps," there was a long pause, so long I thought that we would descend back into silence, but eventually she did speak up.

"I can't... I mean... are they all? Are my parents... my neighbors... how can this.... What... oh god oh god," Zoey descended into sobs and I stroked her cheek again. 

"No they're not all... well you know. I reckon anywhere between a quarter and 10% come back. Listen it'll be okay,"

"No it won't," she cried, "Look what's happening to the world!"

"Shhhh," I consoled, "We're still here aren't we? Not all hope is lost, don't ever give up. Never let yourself give up all together."

"How can you be so strong," She whimpered, "you've met many of them and your... it's just so wrong!"

"I know, it's sick and twisted and against everything god meant, but maybe there'll be a cure. Maybe something good will one day come out of this, and until then? Well until then we cry and we shake, and sometimes we laugh, and sometimes we smile, and we never ever give up."

We spoke softly for what seemed to be an age, about everything from whether her friends and family were below ground now scratching to get out, whether I really believed there were others out there that could help, whether we'd seen that movie "I Am Legend,". Eventually our conversation turned to lighter subjects, something which I was eternally grateful, and we chatted about anything and nothing. I was sure she was suppressing the full horror of the events that she had witnessed and I wasn't sure if that was healthy or not, but then again who am I to judge? I know my own coping mechanics are probably a lot less healthy than hers.

Eventually she got up to use the bathroom and I took the opportunity to wonder into the kitchen to see if I could sate my growling stomach. I was surprised to find the tea in the canteen still warm and I poured it out into two mugs she had packed. I bustled around for a while but eventually cobbled together something that might have resembled a meal.

Zoey entered, eyes red and puffy but with dry cheeks, and laughed when she saw me humming and dancing around as I prepared lunch.

"You really are a strange guy," she commented, still chuckling.

"Come on, try it!" I danced my way over to her and, taking her hands in mine, spun and twirled her around the small room as I sang words made up on the spot to a melody comprised of a variety of different songs.

"When the world spins and twirls," I dipped her low, "We know that life goes by. When the moon shines and sings, we know that life goes on. When the seas splash and splish, we know that life will ever drift. And when I hoooold you in my arms, we know that life slows down. "

"You my dear sir," she gasped, slightly out of breath from our antics, "are a strange strange man."

"Why thank you madam," I doffed an imaginary hat and motioned to a seat, "would you care to be seated? Luncheon is served."

She took her chair and I made a couple of trips to the table carrying water glasses, the two mugs of tea, and two plates laden with the most bizarre combination of food that you would ever find under normal circumstances.

I'd created a pseudo salad out of muesli and orange, made rough and ready sandwiches using slices of tinned corn beef I'd found and lavish amounts of Branston pickle, whipped up some crackers with a dollop of honey and a few grains of instant coffee, all topped off with a packet of crisps each.

"Wow," She exclaimed as I presented her the meal, "this really is something."

"I'll take that as a compliment then?" I asked, catching her eye and grinning.

"Yeah... compliment."

"Well if you don't want it," I moved as if to take her plate only to have my hand slapped away.

"Oh get off with you! It looks lovely, thank you," and with that we tucked in to our slapdash meal.

***

After lunch we washed up in the backyard in a bucket of soapy water Zoey kept there, topped up with boiling hot water from the kettle; then stretched out on the grass, just looking up into the sky. The mood turned serious despite the almost idyllic surroundings.

"What happens now?" Zoey asked, her hand reaching out and finding mine, gripping it hard.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't help but suppress butterflies twisting and turning in my stomach as our skin connected in an act that, to me, was one of the most personal two could engage in.

"Well... just that. What happens?"

I paused for a minute before answering, putting my thoughts and feelings into words, "I suppose we go on living,"

"Just like your song," Zoey cut in.

"Exactly, I'm still thinking of heading out west, go as far inland as I can and try to find some remote section that isn't plagued by this horror. I'm not sure if there is anything but at the very least I should be able to find a farm, maybe I can set up shop as a hermit and live out my days."

"Very lonely existence living alone," Zoey twisted her head and looked into my eyes, her green piercing my brown, "Don't suppose you want a companion?"

"Only if you call me Doctor," I rejoined.

"Sorry?" She asked, clearly missing the reference.

"Don't worry about it: Doctor Who. Do you think you could leave you home?" I asked, brushing her knuckle with a thumb.

"It's not the same anymore," her tone darkened and we both knew what she was talking about.

"I suppose that's true; well I'd love to have you along,"

"Thanks,"

***

We made plans that afternoon, nothing fancy just roughly where'd we go and when we'd leave. Surprisingly Zoey was all up for leaving the next day and, although I wasn't strictly against the idea, I managed to convince her to take and extra day or two, pack up a few things, say goodbye to the house, all that sentimental crap. Sentimental crap it may well be, but if you don't do it you'll never really get closure, that much I knew.

As the afternoon darkened and the sun dropped behind the horizon we felt the chill set in and moved inside. We ate a fairly boring dinner, just a bowl of rice we cooked up over the campfire in the backyard flavored with soy sauce, chili flakes and a mixed tin of peas, corn and carrot. 

We set the bowls aside to soak for the evening, neither of us having the effort to wash them up, and moved back to the sitting room. It was funny, the hour couldn't have been later than 8 or 9 but before long we were both yawning and struggling to stay awake. 

"Well" I said, getting up and stretching, "I should probably make a move." I was halfway to the door before Zoey stopped me.




Zombies Ch. 02



"Charles?" She croaked out.

"Yes?" I answered, turning to face her.

"You can... I mean it's alright if... I mean.... Will you stay here tonight? I'd feel safer knowing you're in the house." It was a big step and a display of exactly how much she'd come to trust me over the last day. Barely 24 hours previously she had all but had a gun trained on me, waiting for me to make the wrong move, now she was inviting me to stay in the house.

"Of course," I said, returning to the couch, "I'll just bunk down here, if you need anything all you have to do is call and I'll be up there quick as a flash."

"Don't stay down here," she whispered again, her eyes pleading, "I'll make up the spare room, the bed really is quite comfortable."

"Okay but only if you're sure," I conceded, looking forward to a decent night in a comfortable bed despite myself; the mattress at the pub must be about a decade or two old!

"Yes."

Together we made up the spare room, dressing the bed with fresh linen and finding a collection of blankets, then we made our way to the bathroom where she kindly leant me a toothbrush and we brushed our teeth and washed our faces.

We bid our goodnights before turning into our separate rooms, just before we parted though I pressed the gun into her hands and, despite her protestations, wouldn't take no for an answer; I had my crowbar and I'd feel more comfortable knowing she had a weapon close by, not to mention she'd probably feel more comfortable too if she had second doubts during the night.

I closed and door to the bedroom and stripped off my shorts, I was still shirtless and had been all day, but surprisingly hadn't been too self-conscious about it until now. I slipped into the bed in only my boxers and within five minutes of resting my weary body upon the soft pillow top mattress was out like a light.

***

It was still dark when I awoke and judging by the light shining in through the window from the moon still quite late... or very early. It took a couple of seconds to realize what had awoken me but then came a second soft knock on the door.

"Yes?" I whispered.

"Charles, can I come in?" I heard Zoey's soft voice through the door. I wriggled deeper down into the bed, pulling the blankets up to me chin, feeling self-conscious again.

"Sure," I answered back and heard the door softly creek open. I couldn't help but let out a giggle with the sight that greeted me. Zoey was dressed head to toe in pink floral pajama's, she looked like a marshmallow.

"Hey," I greeted her and she padded over to sit on the bed, "What's up?"

"Nothing just... no nothing, sorry to disturb you," she made as if to get up but I snagged out an arm from under the blankets and grabbed her.

"Come on, you didn't wake me up in the middle of the night just to say sorry for waking me up," my eyes twinkled but I wasn't sure if she could see them in the dark.

"Well," she paused, gathering courage before letting the next words tumbled out, "woulditbeokayifistayedinheretonight?" It took me a second to dissect what she had said: would it be okay if I stayed in here tonight.

"Umm, well sur-"

"Just I'm... a little..."

"Scared?" I finished when it seemed she wasn't likely to.

"Yes," she said, her cheeks burning with color.

"Don't be ashamed, everybody gets scared. Sure jump in."

Zoey slipped between the covers and lay down facing me.

"How do you do it?" She asked, gazing deep into my eyes.

"Do what?"

"Stay so... I don't know. Brave, cavalier, stoic?"

"Cavalier? Stoic?" I had to laugh at this, "where are you from? Middle Earth?"

"Be serious," she chided me.

"Okay okay," I eased out of the chuckle I was thoroughly enjoying and turned a bit more serious, "I haven't had the easiest life. I mean I'm not saying that I have anything on the kids in Africa or anything like that... but well, at home it was always kinda tense. I mean I know Dad and Mum loved each other, and me too, but there was always tension. Either Dad was working too late or Mum was spending too much money or I wasn't trying hard enough in school, or something. There was always something. It didn't help that when we moved we all but left our family behind, we had to find knew friends and start a life again.

"I suppose that might bring some families closer together than ever, and I suppose it did with us in the end, but for a while there it seemed the only way to stop the tears was to laugh. Eventually it became a bit of a joke with us, two or even all three of us could be in a heated row about this or that and all it would take is for one person to say 'Knock Knock' and we'd suddenly back off, calm down and try to see the funny side."

"Wow," Zoey whispered, "Some family. It sounds so exotic living oversees but I guess you never really realize what you give up. I mean I've lived in this town for nearly my entire life. I know practically everybody by name, I see all my cousins and aunts and uncles several times a year, and although Mum and Dad could really get on my nerves there was always somebody to turn to when that happened.

"I ran away from home once you know?" Zoey laughed at the memory, "I was eight and upset at my parents for some reason, I can't even remember what it was, and that night after dinner I went upstairs and packed my bag and ran off to my neighbor's house. I knocked on Mrs. Mitchell's door and she welcomed me with a hug and big cup of sweat milky tea. After consoling me for ten minutes she made up the couch and put me to bed. The next day I'd gotten over my anger and was really sad that my parents hadn't come looking for me. All I could think was 'Why aren't there here! Don't they love me?' Eventually I stormed back home to find them sitting on the couch watching TV. I burst into tears and ran up to my bedroom.

"I had no idea that Mrs. Mitchell called them the second after I got there and asked them if it'd be alright if I stayed over that evening. I remember mum hugging me and telling me that the reason I was so upset was because of how much we all loved each other. God they used to love to tell that story to embarrass me!"

"I can imagine why! You must have been the center of attention at all the family Christmas parties!"

"Oh shut it you," Zoey slapped my exposed arms softly.

"No but honestly, it's true. No matter what happens your family is always there for each other."

"Was" Zoey chimed in I felt the mood deflate quicker than a balloon with a hole poked in it.

"Yes was," I paused gathering my thoughts, "No is. Just because they're gone doesn't mean they can't make you laugh. And who knows maybe one day we'll each have a new family. Life goes on,"

"Like the song," Zoey whispered.

"Like the song."

I'm not sure who started it, I'm honestly not. All I do know is that one second we were lying opposite each other, her hand still on my arm from where she slapped me, smiling softly at each other; and the next second our lips were pressed together and we were kissing deeply.

I will remember that kiss until the day I die. It started slowly enough, just two sets of lips meeting, pressing together for long minutes. Then our mouths slowly started to open, she tasted of cream and berries. We shifted closer together in the bed, our bodies pressed together, the heat flowing freely from one to the other. Our tongues were introduced next, slowly probing the other party, tickling, wrestling and caressing the other's tongue and mouth.

We broke apart after a few minutes, coming up for air, still holding each other.

"Wow," Zoey whispered.

"Wow," I replied.

"That was..."

"Yeah," we lay speechless for the longest time, just holding the other and delighting in the human contact. A yawn eventually slipped into the void between us and the moment was lost.

"Oh sorry, I forgot I woke you up in the middle of the night.

"Don't be, I wouldn't have skipped it for the world," I saw her smile at this and felt my heart skip a beat. How had I come to care about this person so much so quickly? Was it just because she was another human being in a world seemingly devoid of them? Or did we truly have a connection? Whichever, it was a riddle to decipher another time. 

"Me neither, well goodnight," she moved in briefly and pressed another soft kiss on my lips before rolling over onto her other side, her back towards me.

"Good night Zoey," I whispered her name and felt a rush flow through my body.

"Goodnight Charles," she responded, wriggling back into me, allowing me to spoon her as we both drifted off to unconsciousness. 



Zombies Ch. 03



A pair of grey eyes opened and a toned body rolled off the mattress on the floor and immediately started the daily hundred pushups. When the man finished, he flipped onto his back and began a hundred sit ups, followed by two hundred squats and forty seven chin ups with the aid of the door frame.

The man with grey eyes gazed over himself in the mirror, sweat flowing off him in a veritable river. He rather fancied himself to be a heroic crusader, a man hell bent on ridding this earth from the scourge which plagued it, fated to travel alone till the end of his days, the silent protector of humanity.

The stranger strapped on his vest and belt and left the near closet sized room he had spent the night in, a smile on his face. Yes today would be a good day.

***

The next two days were fairly mundane and boring compared to the first day Zoey and I spent together. Zoey spent a large majority of the time going through her personals and deciding what to pack, burying valuables in the back garden, packing and repacking several suitcases, replanting household plants and a hundred other things that you do to put a house in order. 

I, on the other hand, spent two days going through Zoey's neighbors' houses trying to find little odds or ends that could potentially be useful in the upcoming voyage. I managed to scrounge quite a few valuable things from the small neighborhood, the most useful of which would probably be the small trailer sitting in an abandoned garage. The trailer effectively meant that we could increase our carrying capacity two fold, vital since the veritable small-tank was chock-a-block full. I also managed to find a large foot pump, a couple of jerry cans, several long lengths of rubber tubing, a plethora of medical supplies to top up my existing stash, zip cords, a few technical manuals, steal ball bearings, a hand saw, a small camp stove and a pair of walkie-talkies. 

Late on the second day, just as Zoey was zipping up the last of her suitcases, I strode triumphantly through the front door holding my latest project above my head victoriously. 

"Edison invented the light bulb. Bell invented the telephone. Babbage invented the computer. Euclid invented Geometry. But I, I invented this!" I proclaimed, heaving my prize up high and beaming with pride.

"Well actually Meucci invented the telephone; Davy invented the first light bulb, Edison only improved upon it; it can be argued that since Babbage's computer was mechanical not electronic that it doesn't really count; geometry was used as far back as the 2nd millennium BC; and you seem to be claiming to have invented the foot pump,"

"Spoil sport,"

"Uneducated buffoon,"

"Know it all,"

"Is it my fault if I happen to be literate? Now do you mind telling my why you're so proud over a common foot pump so I can go back to packing?"

"You my dear," I addressed her as pompously as possible, "do take all the fun out of life. If you follow me to the back garden, I will endeavor to demonstrate why this foot pump is anything but common!" and with that I strode haughtily into the back yard to show exactly why I was a genius! During the half minute it took for Zoey to follow me, I had already set up my experiment.

"Okay, so what miracle am I supposed to be witnessing" Zoey asked dubiously, examining the set up. The foot pump had two hoses running from it, instead of the usual one; one of the hoses, the one which had not originally come with the device, was lying in the bucket of water we used for washing up, whilst the second hose was dangling freely into an empty bucket.

"To the uneducated eye," I began, feeling like a cross between a magician and Q, "this may appear to be an average foot pump,"

"No it appears to be a foot pump which has been modified to-"

"Would you just... okay? I mean... come on!"

"Fine fine," she relented, "please continue your presentation,"

"As I was saying, to the untrained eye this may look just like a normal foot pump. But if you examine it closely you will notice that several additions have been made, namely this hose here," I tapped the hose that was trailing in the bucket of water.

"Will you get on with it?" I shot her a withering look but did none the less speed up the presentation.

"If madam would please watch the second hose?" I requested, indicating the empty bucket as I began to pump up and down the handle, my feet on the stabilizing plinth at the bottom of the pump. I watched the empty bucket expectantly and saw... nothing. 

"Ooh impressive," okay yes I deserved that, but did she have to rub it in?

"Damn, I really thought this would work," I continued to pump the handle a few times just in case. Suddenly the pressure skyrocketed and I had to use all my strength to depress the plunger. As I slowly forced the handle down, a trickle or water shot from the second hose, spitting audibly into the empty tin bucket.

"Not bad," Zoey appraised, nodding her head appreciatively, "let me guess, a ball bearing and a... cut up funnel serve as a valve to stop backflow?"

"Empty shotgun cartridge actually."

"Nice, but why did you spend the better part of two days working on this little project? Not that it isn't good to keep busy but..."

"Well I was tired of cutting fuel lines to syphon gasoline, not to mention if we happen to cross a petrol station this way we can use what's left in the tanks."

"Not bad thinking I suppose, but if you've finished playing around you can give me a hand loading up the trailer"

"Yeah okay," I responded dejectedly, expecting a bit more praise for what I thought was a pretty decent feat of engineering. I purged the chamber of the pump of all remaining water and brought the pump back inside and deposited it with the small pile of stuff to be loaded into the car and trailer combination.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon packing and organizing the car; somehow despite the royal we Zoey employed she seemed to disappear for all the heavy lifting, emerging only occasionally to instruct and supervise.

We spent that night sharing the same bed, just as we had the previous two. I was surprised that she didn't want to spend her last night in her house in her own bed but she said she felt more comfortable with me. We hadn't kissed or even touched romantically since the first night and I was beginning to wonder if I hadn't just dreamt it up. 

As we lay in the large bed, Zoey's back to me letting me spoon her, I decided to say something.

"Hey Zoey?" I asked, stroking her arm slightly as I whispered in her ear.

"Yeah?" She replied somewhat sleepily. 

I almost lost my courage, I almost ended with a lame 'nothing ,goodnight,' but somehow I managed to gather the nerve to go on and ask my question.

"You know the other night how we... well... kissed?" My heart quickened in anxiety and the butterflies in my stomach started to flap their wings again.

"Yeah?"

"Well... did that... what I mean is... was it just a onetime thing? Consequence of stress or something?" The pause that followed my question felt like the longest I had ever experienced. Eventually Zoey disentangled herself from my arms and rolled over to me face me.

"Charles," she said softly and my mind fervently started to imagine all the things she could say to reject me, "it's not that I don't want to do those things again, it's just that... Well I'm confused. Here we are in the biggest things of our lives, or anybody's lives, and well... I don't want to be the girl that just jumps into bed with the first guy she sees."

"Oh," I responded, somewhat dejectedly. 

"Oh?"

"No it's nothing, just... I didn't realize that I'm only the first guy you've seen," this was hard for me, I don't usually share my feelings; in fact several girlfriends have broken up with me because of my reluctance to talk.

"Oh Charles, I didn't mean to give you that impression!" I watched as a tear rolled down her face. 'Oh great, I've made her cry. I really am a horse's ass, I should just go and throw myself of a cliff!'

"Zoey, don't cry. I didn't mean it like that. God I'm sorry for bringing this up, of course it's hard, just ignore me. You just have to say to yourself: oh that's just Charlie, he's an idiot!" I was scared to touch her incase my attempt at consolation was read as something else; but apparently Zoey had no qualms. As a second tear rolled down her cheek to mingle with the first at the base of her neck she wriggled closer to me and buried her face in my chest.

"It's not just... you it's... everything," she managed to get out between sobs. I encased my arms around her and stroked her back softly as she let it all out. We lay like that for five minutes before the tears were all gone. I wasn't sure what to say during that time so I kept silent and just shushing noises as I attempted to comfort her.

"Sorry," She responded weakly as she extracted herself from my sodden shirt.

"No I'm sorry," I responded, lifting a finger to tilt her head up so she could see into my eyes, "I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean to press a decision on you or anything, it's just... well I kinda like you and I was just wondering if you felt-" 

My words were cut off by her lips pressing against mine in a very wet, very passionate kiss. My mind was saying 'I'm not sure if this is a good idea' even as my lips were frantically kissing her back, our bodies pushing into one another as our tongues intertwined. 

One of my hands roamed her back: stroking, massaging, caressing and tickling where needed; whilst my second hand cupped her face. Zoey, in turn, let her hands run wild across my body, touching everything from the stubble upon my chin and cheeks to run along the white scar that ran a good three inches down my left bicep, from my broad shoulders to my tight stomach. Her hand dipped below the waistline of my track pants and even the merest brush of my groin sent spams of pleasure shooting through my body, causing me to moan in her mouth.

Zoey, apparently taking initiative from my outburst, brought her hand back to my groin to trace softly along the outline my erection made in the soft fabric. Deciding that if she was touching me intimately she probably wouldn't mind me touching her similarly, I slipped the hand on her back down lower and lower until it dipped below her flannelette pajamas and came to rest upon her tight, pert butt. 

I squeezed and massaged the fleshy orbs through the soft cotton material of her underwear, please to find Zoey herself moan at this change in developments. It was only when Zoey's second hand moved to the hem of my shirt, pulling it up, did we relinquish our kiss and did I withdraw my hand from her pajamas. We stripped off my shirt and flung it unceremoniously off the bed to lie crumpled in a pile at the floor. 

When our lips had once again become entangled I started slowly upon the buttons of her pink pajama top, struggling to open up the heavy material. When eventually I did manage to fling open the shirt I was surprise and delighted to touch warm flesh, riddled with goosebumps, as opposed to the soft fabric of an undershirt. 

As our bodies pressed together once more, I felt a thousand electric shocks of pleasure as our skin touched for the first time. I could easily feel her soft breasts press into my own chest and I let out another moan, my erection jumping and pressing hard against her own groin.

As we explored and became accustomed to the other's body, I broke off our kiss to delve into the porcelain skin I found along her décolletage. I delighted in kissing, sucking and even biting the alabaster skin and was encouraged to feel her moan into my shoulder. 

As we made out, our hips began to grid against one another and before too long we were each pushing down the other's trousers, trackies in my case and pajamas in hers. As soon as our feet were disentangled from the restrictive clothing our hips went back to dancing together. Before too long, my erection, sticking out prominently in the soft fabric, was nestled between her hot milky thighs, pressing up against a decisively wet crotch.

"Oh," Zoey moaned as we began to dry hump. I rolled her onto her back and took the dominant position, kissing down her neck until I reached the top of her chest. Slowly I began to kiss and lick her right breast, nibbling her long pink nipple softly as I did. This only served to increase her moans and soon her long nails were raking down my back.

"Where are you going?" Zoey moaned as I shifted my body down, forcing my member to withdraw from where it was ensconced. I didn't respond but instead massaged her breast with my left hand as I trailed kisses down her tight stomach, pausing to tongue her belly button for a few seconds, before continuing south until I reached the elastic of her underwear. Gripping the material in my teeth, I rolled the constricting fabric down her waist. As I removed her underwear, I was greeted with my first sight of her most intimate parts, a sight that did not disappoint.

Zoey kicked off her underwear when they were far enough down her legs and I began to slowly kiss and lick up her thigh until I reached the apex of her legs. It was at this point that i was greeted with my first real smell of her; the heady musky scent of her sex did nothing to diminish my erection. I tentatively moved my tongue from her thigh to just outside her slit, licking up and down the sides of her nether lips. I delighted in their response to my ministrations and soon dared to slip my tongue between her folds.

"Wow," Zoey's cry was soft but enthusiastic, making me grin as I began to eat her out. I let my tongue run from her soaked opening to her clit in long slow licks, enjoying the way she began to writhe beneath me. In short time, she was pressing her hips hard into my mouth and her hands had found resting places upon my ears, encouraging me to devout more of my energies to her little button of joy. 

Not one to refuse a ladies request, I lapped earnestly at the little nub, enjoying the muffled moans that were being issued nonstop from her throat. I slipped my right hand, from where it had been caressing her thigh, to her tight opening and pressed my index finger up against it. Slowly I inched the digit inside, until two kuckles were buried deep within her.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," Zoey cried out as I began to massage her from the inside as my tongue continued to feast upon her clit. Her wild thrashing increased until she was actually bucking her hips beneath me, practically smashing my face into her sex. 

Her orgasm, when it came, took me completely by surprise: all of a sudden she just ceased all motion, her body as stiff as a board and hips still raised high off the bed. Zoey's thighs clamped around my ears and I intensified my actions; licking without abandon and fingering her hard.

"Ahhh," she veritably screamed as the orgasm broke and subsided, her body slumping back to the bed limp and utterly spent. I took one last suck of her clit, savoring her tangy sweet taste, and withdrew my finger; crawling up the bed to lie next to her, one hand slowly stroking her stomach.

"Thank you," she managed to get out between pants, "Oh thank you,"

***

The many with grey eyes stumbled back into his little hidey hole, covered in blood, sweat and the intestines of his enemies. Despite his grimy condition, he smiled: it had been a good day. He had dispatched just over a score of the Walkers and not sustained even a scratch! Most importantly of all though, he had done a fairly thorough sweep of the town and was confident in declaring it safe and sound: no more stubborn undead here to plague the living, not that there were any living of course. 

The man with grey eyes pulled a map from a large stuffed backpack that was propped up neatly in the corner and spread it open across the floor. Next, the stranger withdrew a sharpie from his pocket and put a large X through the place he was.

"That makes two, only a couple thousand to go," despite the ominous and daunting words, the man with grey eyes felt anything but discouragement, this is what he had been born to do! With the aid of his handy dandy compass, he plotted a course north, the interstate highway taking him neatly to a fairly remote township.

"Easthaven, here I come," the man whispered to the room at large, a twinkle of excitement lighting up his grey eyes.

*******

Author's Note: Thanks for getting to the end of another chapter! Hope you liked it, I'm sorry things have been moving so slowly up until now but I think both the plot and our protagonists sex lives will heat up in the next coming chapters! As always comments are very much appreciated! (Incidentally I tried to ensure there were a great deal fewer spelling mistakes this time around!)