Zombie Queen

by Mary Martel

  Getting down on my hands and knees, I feel into the darkness to gently push the shit out of my way. I'm only a step or two away from Kemp, so it'll be no problem making it to him silently. I can only hope the others have thought of the same thing and don't make too much sound. When my fingers connect with the wood of the counter, I almost let out a sigh of relief. I've never been in a minefield, but I can't say it'd be too much different than that right there. Minus shit going boom.

  Gently, so as not to startle him, I place my hand on Kemp's shoulder. "Move two aisles over."

  My voice is so quiet I barely hear it myself, so I'm surprised when he does as I say. We've just crouched down behind the shelf when there's the distinct crunch of glass near the windows.

  "I don't know why Max can't just come out here and get his own shit," Matthew whines. "I'm not his fucking lapdog. Next time I'll make him suck my dick for running some bullshit errand like this."

  "I'd like to see you tell him that to his face," Issak snorts, knowing good and damn well no one stands up to Max. He's second-in-command and will have anyone, man or woman, down on their knees begging for mercy while choking on his cock. Not the other way around. These dumb bitch boys will do whatever they're told. Just like the rest of the sheep.

  Roger huffs in silent agreement with me. He'd know better than any of us. Terrance took a special liking to him before they started finding women.

  "Whatever," Matthew spews gruffly.

  From the direction of their voices, it sounds like they're on the other side of the store. But in the silence, it's hard to tell for sure what's an echo and what isn't. Then one of them flicks a flashlight on, and light floods around the room.

  There's a commotion, and a soda can hits the back wall with a loud thud before it bursts, sending a spray of the carbonated sugar everywhere.

  "Where's all the fucking beer?" Matthew roars.

  "Max had us get all of it the other day," Roger admits.

  I can hear the rage in Matthew’s voice even if I can't see the expression on his face. "Are you fucking kidding me? Hope that shit sack chokes on it."

  More rustling on a shelf closer to where we're hiding and Roger apparently pulls out a gift for his master just like the good little pet he is. "Here," he says, "I hid this for you instead of taking it all back like we were supposed to."

  "Ahh, see," Matthew announces to Issak, "told you he'd come in handy, didn't I?"

  Another huff, I'm assuming from Issak, before the distinct sound of the top of a can popping open. Glancing up into the corners, I find what I'm looking for in the form of a small round mirror. Those stupid things stores thought would help them catch thieves. Not like it helped all that much with the people that were desperate enough to do it in the first place. At the moment, though, I'm grateful.

  Kemp never shook off my hand from his shoulder, so it's easy enough to give him a two-finger tap. When I find his eyes, they're already locked onto the mirror. Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one with some brains in this operation. Another sound near the front of the store has us both whipping that way. Moans and a squelching drag can only mean one thing. These stupid fucks were loud enough to attract the attention of the dormant dead wandering the streets.

  "Anyone up for a little Russian roulette?" Matthew boasts loudly.

  Before the other two can respond, he hands off his beer and flips open the chamber on his pistol, letting all the bullets fall into his palm. At least that's what I'm assuming he's done. From this angle it's hard to tell, but it wouldn't be the first time. The roll of the chamber echoes around the room before the click of it going back into place.

  "You boys know the rules," he says. "If the bullet doesn't drop them, then it's every man for himself."

  Light starts to fade as they move toward the front. If we were ever going to get a chance to get out of here, it's now or never. The scuffle at the front is a perfect cover for the noise we'll make. Noble must agree because he sends the other two over the counter first before quickly following. Then we're moving as a unit with Kemp and me in the lead. We squeeze through the crack we left in the door, but Noble's shoulder must catch. It makes that loud squeal again before settling back against the block.

  "Run!" he demands, urgent and as quiet as he can be.

  That's when the first shot goes off inside the store, quickly followed by another two or three. As we round the corner into the street, we get a clear picture of why. All of the noise appears to have dragged in every walking dead body within half a mile. The front windows are lined with disgusting rotting corpses. I'm no rocket scientist or anything, but I'd say that glass won't be holding them back for long.

  Damn it. We should've moved the block. It might've locked those assholes in there then there would be three less in the world to deal with. Too late to do that now, though. Especially since a few stragglers catch us watching the show and give chase. Not like they can actually keep up with us or anything, but it's not good to have a tail just in case anyone is on the lookout for anything suspicious.

  We're only a block or so away from where we left the Hummer, and the adrenaline high is riding me hard. I can't believe we pulled this shit off. Know that old saying about not counting chickens before they hatch? Used to think that was some farmer made up bullshit until the moment Kemp slides like a fucking G.I. Joe, barely missing the end of a bat that just so happens to connect with my left cheekbone.

  Pain hits a second later when I realize I'm face down on the road. Could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure I just blacked out. Definitely don't remember how I got down here. There's shouting mixed with scuffling and grunts of pain followed by the sickening garbled sounds of the dead that were on our heels. I try to get to my knees and almost collapse again from the rush of blood to my face that feels like it just got hit with a sledge hammer. It pounds like a physical thing trying to get out of my skin with every beat of my heart. But there's more at stake here than any of these people know. I cannot let Terrance's men take me back.

  Getting to my feet takes a lot of work, but I manage, and the sight before me makes me want to rip some fucking heads off. Not only did he send his men, but the one and only Terrance himself has us surrounded. I seem to be forgotten in the fray with each man taking on another and three on Noble. If there was ever a time to be a coward, now would be it. I could run as far away from here as I can get, and no one would be the wiser. Too bad I swore I'd never be that person again.

  Two of Terrance's goons have Noble's arms trapped at his side as the man lays into him with one fist after another. Charging the one on his left, we both hit the ground with mutual thuds and groans. Through the one eye I can see from, close movement has me jerking back on instinct. A blow lands on the side of my face that's already taken a beating before a scream pierces my eardrums. I try to block out the sound of tearing flesh, something I never wanted to hear again.

  Two different sets of hands lock underneath my armpits, and I want to fight, but my head feels like it's being held underwater. There's a solid moment where I'm not sure if they are there to help or beat me to bits. Kemp's voice to my right is the quick answer to that. It's all I can do to help them by gaining my feet and putting one in front of the other. We don't make it far before stopping again.

  "GO!" Noble's voice roars louder than anything else around us.

  Kemp curses in my ear, and we start moving again.

  I dig my heels into the ground as hard as I can. "We can't leave him back there."

  "Move your ass," Kemp growls, starting to drag me before the other guy can even realize what's going on.

  Goddamn it. Terrance will fucking kill that man and for no other reason than the pure fun of it. Cracking the least injured eye, I can see we've made it back to the Hummer, but there are only three of us. Kemp, myself, and hoodie. Which means they left Noble and the angry dude behind. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Kemp opens my door and all but tosses me in the back seat while ordering hoodie to drive.

  "Should we circ
le back around?" he asks, cranking the vehicle.

  "No," Kemp growls. "There were too many of them. We've got to get this home, then we'll come back."

  He doesn't have to say with reinforcements; it's a solid unspoken. My attention turns to the pack he shoves to the floor board. These guys risked their life for John, and now two of them may not make it home. It makes my gut feel funny knowing I'll now owe them for more than one life. What's even more shocking is realizing I'll gladly pay it.

  Emerald

  Patience has never been one of my virtues. Even in the before, my mom had such a time chastising me for it. This is more than patience and much more than a simple supply run. I shouldn't be here babysitting Gideon while some of our people are out there risking their lives. Damn Kemp for putting me in this position.

  Standing at the window and looking out over the lake, I only half listen to the conversation between Gideon and Joseph. There's absolutely nothing they can say that could pull my attention away from this window anyway. For what feels like, and probably is, the millionth time, my gaze flicks to the clock on the wall. According to Noble, it's a bit of a drive out here, taking the streets. A little over an hour and Sam had said it was half that cutting through the woods on a four-wheeler. So, that gives them two hours there and back. Then maybe two in town depending on all the variables. I'm giving them exactly five hours before I tie the men in this house to chairs and gas up Sam's four-wheeler. That's my town and my people that just drove toward it. If anyone should be out there, it's me.

  A warm hand on the bottom of my back startles me.

  "Sorry," Graham says softly. "I didn't mean to make you jump. You're going to worry yourself sick if you keep this up. Then I'll have another patient on my hands."

  His attempt at humor falls flat against my anxiety. I try to give him a smile, but I'm sure it looks more like a wince instead. He gives me one of understanding in return. "You know, I don't think Russ is handling this any better than you are. Want to go check on him for me?"

  Looking around the room, I don't find the man anywhere. I've been so absorbed in my own world of stress that the stranger could've taken complete control before my mind caught up to what was happening.

  As if he can tell where my mind has gone, Graham grabs my chin to lift my gaze to his. "Don't worry about Gideon. We're fine. Check Dex's room first."

  Nodding, I step around him and narrow my eyes at Gideon in warning as I make my way toward the stairs. Hope he understands that as I have no qualms about stabbing his ass if he tries anything while I'm gone. Then the dude winks at me. An actual flirty wink with one side of his lips turning up into a smile. Waiting until I'm headed up to the second level, I let that infectiousness hit me with a smile of my own. These strangers may come with baggage the size of a bulldozer, but that doesn't make them any less physically attractive. If there ever were a time when things slow down for a bit, flirting might be fun. Be even better if these dudes stick around. I saw the way blondie got under the wild man's skin and that alone would be worth all this hassle.

  True to the doc's word, I find Russ laid back on Dex's bed when I make it upstairs. The way he stares at the ceiling is like it holds all the answers he's up here seeking alone.

  "I've been told you can worry yourself sick," I tell him, folding my arms across my chest and using the doorjamb as a shoulder prop.

  The lamp on the nightstand lights up the room just enough for me to be able to see the smile that pulls his cheeks up before he asks, "Doc tell you that?"

  "Maybe," I reply.

  He lets out a short laugh. "Sounds like something he'd say."

  Sitting up to throw his legs off the side of the bed, he props his elbows on his thighs and head in his hands to stare at the floor instead.

  "You okay?" I ask, not really caring if I'm intruding on his feelings or whatever.

  Shrugging, he doesn't look at me when he answers, "I will be when they get back. Too much can go wrong and got too much on my mind."

  I'm not sure if I make the conscious decision or if it's me living in the moment, but I gently shut the door and shrug my swords off to lay on top of Dex's dresser before crossing the room to Russ. Those pretty blue eyes lift to mine before he straightens and welcomes me into his arms. The feel of his arms going around my waist is better than I ever could've imagined, which is just one of the many reasons I find myself running my fingers through his hair. When he lays the side of his face against my stomach, I don't stop him. We relax in a companionable comforting quiet for a bit.

  Then his fingertips graze the bare skin right above my jeans, making me wonder if he can hear the fluttering of the butterflies in my stomach. Out of nowhere, could be stress or the thought of how Kemp made me feel in the shower, I find my lady balls.

  "Hey, Russ," I wonder, waiting until he lets out a soft hmm sound that vibrates through my belly, "I say we both need a good distraction right now, wouldn't you?" This time when his gaze rises to mine, it's a slow process that makes those butterflies go crazy. Then I kiss him. It's a soft press of lips against lips at first. But when his part to give me access, I waste no time letting my tongue sneak in to taste him the way I've learned from the wild man.

  I can feel the surprise through the kiss without having to check his expression. However, whatever reason he'd been holding back gets thrown out the window. His hands tighten, dropping to my ass, and he uses it to pull my body flush against his own. Noob or not, some things are just instinct like the need growing between my legs for him to touch me there. Throwing a leg over one of his, I push him until he lies back, allowing me to straddle his waist. The hardness in his jeans is impossible to ignore, not like I want to. The plan had been for distraction, not necessarily sex, but now that we're here, I'm going to let the pieces fall as they may.

  His palms skim up my sides underneath the shirt, sending goosebumps racing along behind him and making my nipples hard. With our mouths still melded together, his chest brushes against the tight peaks, making me wish there wasn't anything standing between us. Another one of those in the moment decisions has me lifting up to a kneel above him before yanking off my shirt. His eyes light up, probably at the prospect of seeing tits for the first time in a year, and I feel janky sitting on top of this gorgeous dude in my old bra. Thankfully, I don't feel shame or embarrassment because I might lose the courage for what I want to do next.

  Reaching back, I undo the clasps holding my out-of-date bra together before letting it slip down my arms and tossing it off the bed. If I'd have been worried about how he'd like my body, his reaction says everything. He smiles softly, glancing down at my chest then back to my face as if asking permission. Taking his hands resting at my hips, I drag them slowly up the front of my body until my tits are resting in his palms. His touch is gentle as he massages them, even when he switches to the nipples. It has my head falling back in a bliss I've only read about. They'd always claimed to have strong feelings about men playing with their breasts, but I didn't get it. Maybe that's because my hands never felt as good as Russ'. The rough callouses scrape the soft skin that's never been touched by another person other than myself.

  With my head still back and eyes closed, I only feel it when he sits up. A hiss of pleasure escapes and my hips rock shamelessly against him as he takes one of them between his lips. He moves his attention to the other one, giving it a little nip with his teeth and sending me into an orgasm that almost feels as good as the one Kemp gave me.

  Coming down, I grab Russ by the chin and force his face up, so I can claim his mouth again. I swallow his moan before reaching down to lift his shirt over his head. We break apart shortly to toss the material to the floor, and I get this wild feeling in my chest at seeing him half-naked. If I'm honest, I can't wait to ditch the rest of our clothes, so I can see him completely naked. The desire is more powerful than the one I feel trying to tug our lips back together.

  So I stand and reach for the button on my jeans only to have his hand stop me.

  "A
re you sure, Em?" he asks. "We don't have to do this tonight."

  I'm as sure as I'll be today, tomorrow, or any other time if we're guaranteed that time, but we're not.

  "What if tonight is all we have?" I retort.

  Standing to his full height and closing the distance between us, he places a hand on either side of my face and says, "Then we'd better make the best of it then, huh?"

  Even if my brain could form a coherent sentence, he doesn't give me the chance to, dropping his mouth to mine. I feel his fingers undoing the button on my jeans that he stopped me from moments ago. Wanting to return the favor, I boldly dip my index finger behind the rim of his, skimming it along the seam until I reach the front. It has him making another one of those sounds in my mouth. When I feel my pants slipping down my hips, I let them drop to the floor. My panties go next. If I thought the bra was bad, I know for a fact the panties I put on this morning are even worse. The bright pink only to be outshined by the big unicorn on the front. They came from that drawer I raided at the house before coming here. They were a pair of my favorites back when unicorns were in and walking fuckfaces not so much. Damn, I need to invest in some new shit if people other than me are going to keep seeing me in them.

  All of this races through my head in a matter of seconds. Now feeling a tiny bit awkward in my nudity, I slide past Russ to hop up on the bed, not really thinking about the show he gets from the act. Propping myself up on my elbows, I smile up at where he still stands. When he reaches for his pants, I don't look away like the old Emerald would've. I'm pretty sure we're beyond the shyness now anyway. Besides, if I had, I would've missed the blush that now stains his cheeks.

  I can't really talk because as soon as I get my first look at his dick, I know my face flames just as bright. Thankfully, he doesn't make my staring awkward. Simply gives me a moment to gawk before bringing himself to lie over me. I have never felt how I do as his weight presses me down into the mattress and we finally touch skin to skin everywhere.