More than Survival (A Zombie Apocalypse Love Story Book 1)

by Kate L. Mary

  I adjusted my course and kept going, moving faster with each passing second. My heart was thumping wildly in my chest and I had a bad feeling that I was chasing a ghost, but I’d been lost in the woods for hours now and I knew I needed to get somewhere safe. And fast.

  By the time another scream ripped through the woods I was so close that I didn’t even have to guess as where it had come from. I dodged a tree and skidded to a halt at the sight of a person, only four feet away, laying on the ground with their back to me.

  “Holy shit.”

  No one else was in sight, but I stayed were I was and reached for my knife just in case. The wind blew and the person didn’t move, and I scanned the area. Still nothing but snow around.

  “You alone?” I said as I took one hesitant step forward.

  The person didn’t make a sound, so I moved closer, my hand still on my knife. Now that I was able to get a good look at them, I noticed how small the person was. Like a child.

  I knelt at their side and gave the body a hesitant poke, but still got no response. Dead maybe? Only one way to find out.

  With one hand still on my knife, I grabbed the person’s shoulders and rolled them toward me. An arm flopped over first, landing in the soft snow that covered the ground, and three things registered in my brain at the same time. One: this was a woman, not a child. Two: a stick was literally sticking out of her body and there was blood everywhere. Three: she was so fucking beautiful that I couldn’t breathe.

  Her cheeks were pink from the cold, but her skin pale and soft-looking and her lips full. Dark red hair spread out beneath her head, wet from the snow but still shiny and healthy. She couldn’t be much older than twenty—putting her more than ten years younger than me—which meant she couldn’t be out here alone. We were far up in the mountains where life was hard, and I knew first hand how difficult it was to live all alone. This woman was small and delicate. She had to have someone helping her.

  Once again I looked around, but there still wasn’t another soul to be seen. Only a few feet from where she lay blood spotted the snow, and next to it was a pile of sticks. Beyond that I found a trail cutting through the deep drifts. If I followed that it would most likely lead me back to where she’d come from. Hopefully, whoever she was with would be so grateful that I’d saved her that they’d ask me to stay until this blizzard passed.

  First though, I had to do something about the stick. I wiggled it, but that only made the girl moan. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

  I whispered a gentle, “Shhh,” but all I got in response was another quiet moan.

  “Damn. Looks like you got yourself in quite a mess,” I said, trying to keep my tone low so I didn’t scare her. I was going to have to break the stick off and I knew it was going to hurt like hell, but it would go easier if she stayed calm. “This is going to hurt.”

  I grabbed the stick and took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I was about to do. The woman’s body tensed, and before she had time to get too freaked out, I bent the stick to the right as quickly as I could. It snapped and she screamed, and the sound was so loud that it echoed through the woods.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as I tossed the upper half of the stick aside.

  She was once again out though, making it impossible for her to hear me. The rest of the stick was still jutting from her shoulder, but at least it wouldn’t get bumped around as much now that it was shorter. Once I got her back to her place I’d figure out the rest—hopefully she had somewhere well lit and warm—but the most important thing right now was to get both of us out of the cold.

  I scooped her up, holding her little body against mine as I pushed my way through the snow. The trail was easy to follow for now, but with the way the snow was coming down it would soon fill the little path in and erase all evidence that it had ever been there in the first place.

  In my arms this woman felt both impossibly light and insanely heavy. She was still bleeding and I didn’t know how bad the damage was, let alone what I was going to find when we reached the end of the trail I was following. No one had come looking for her, which didn’t make sense, and I suddenly felt like her life was in my hands alone. There was no way she would have been so foolish as to go far from her house in the middle of this storm, so we had to be close enough that whoever she lived with would have heard her scream.

  Unless she was alone.

  But that couldn’t be. There had to be another reason. Maybe her companion was sick. Maybe she was out here getting wood while her husband or lover sat shivering in front of the fire.

  That would make sense, but at the same time there was something about the thought that caused my stomach to clench uncomfortably. As if the idea that the beautiful woman in my arms was already spoken for actually hurt me. Which was dumb. Being on my own was fine with me. Not only was it safer this way, but it made it impossible for me to screw up so bad that someone else had to pay for it. Again.

  A cabin came into view and I found myself grinning. It was small, but fortified. The fence that ran around it was high and sturdy, and at the bottom curls of barbed wire were just visible through the snowdrifts. A couple sheds sat at the back of the property too, and when I got closer I heard the sound of animals shuffling around inside.

  “Damn.” The smile on my face got wider and I moved faster through the snow. “Look at what a setup you have.”

  The gate was wide open—something that concerned me—but I was sure to shut and latch it tight when I went through.

  The soft, flickering light of candles glowed in the windows when I paused outside the back door. I shifted the girl, who groaned, then knocked. Even though it was freezing, I didn’t like the idea of just barging in.

  No one came to the door, so after a few seconds I knocked again, then stepped back. I stared at the window, hoping to see movement of some kind, but there was none. Either she was alone or my suspicion about the person she was with being too sick to get up had been right.

  Since it didn’t look like anyone was coming to the door any time soon, I decided I just needed to head on inside.

  The door swung open with no problem and I had only taken two steps into the kitchen when I realized that the outside was not the best part of this cabin. The kitchen, although small, was the most functional thing I’d seen since the world ended. Unlike most of the homes I’d been in over the last eleven years, it didn’t have a useless gas or electric stove that had rusted from disuse. No. It had a wood burning stove that looked like something straight out of Little House on the Prairie, and next to it was a washtub and water pump.

  “Damn,” I muttered as I kicked the door shut behind me.

  Even though I wanted to give the kitchen a better look, I had a woman in my arms who needed help. She was still out cold and her wound was still bleeding, and the sooner I could get her warm and taken care of the better.

  “Hello?” I called as I stomped my feet on the doormat.

  Snow fell off, settling on the floor around me while I waited for someone to answer. When still no one came, I called out again, but there was only silence.

  This wasn’t good.

  I shifted the woman I was holding, trying my best not to hurt her, and somehow I managed to shrug out of my boots. Hers were easier to get off, and they thumped to the floor one at a time, landing next to mine.

  Still carrying her in my arms, I went deeper into the house. Just past the kitchen was a living room with a huge stone fireplace, but the fire in it was low—little more than burning embers.

  “Not good,” I muttered out loud this time.

  I eased the unconscious woman onto the couch and she groaned. Once my arms were free I went about the business of taking my gloves, hat, scarf, and jacket off. I had to get a fire started so we could warm this place up, then I’d check around for her companion. I needed to clean her wound, but the last thing I wanted was for someone to come into the room behind me while I was taking her shirt off. That would look bad, and these days people were
likely to shoot first and ask questions later.

  The only logs I could find were wet, and when I searched the room for more I turned up nothing. The same was true of the logs in the kitchen, and there were none in either one of the bedrooms. No wonder she’d been out in the snowstorm.

  Even more worrisome was the fact that there was no one else in the house at all. The one bedroom obviously belonged to the woman—there was a brush on the dresser and a pair of pink pajamas on the bed—and the other one seemed to be occupied by a man. The only question was: where was he?

  “Need a fire,” I muttered, staring down at the fireplace but having no idea what to do about it.

  I ran my hand through my hair, cringing at the greasy strands. Usually I took a bath when I went to town. The community bathhouses were disgusting, but it was better than nothing, which was my only option in the winter. During spring and summer, and a little into the fall, I would brave the river that ran down the mountain. That water was freezing, but those were my options these days.

  Only I’d never made it to town today. The storm had moved in too quickly and I’d gotten lost before I could reach my destination. Now I was here. In a cabin with a woman who seemed to be alone. She was hurt and I was her only hope. It was quite possibly the shittiest scenario I could have ever imagined.

  Chapter 4

  LUCY

  My body ached when I shifted, but the pain pulled me out of the blackness and back to reality. I moaned and my eyes fluttered open only to be greeted by the familiar view of the fireplace. How had I gotten here? The last thing I remembered was shivering in the snow while pain pulsed through me. No. That wasn’t the last thing. Someone had helped me. A man. His voice had been deep but gentle, then he had lifted me in arms that were firm and strong.

  “Need a fire.”

  I blinked, trying to focus. When I did, I saw a man standing in front of the fireplace. His back was to me, making it impossible for me to get a good look at him, but he was tall and broad shouldered. So much bigger than me or my Uncle Seamus. Even through his thick sweater I could tell how muscular this man was. Despite my achy, freezing state, fear clenched my heart.

  He leaned down so he could feel the wood in front of the fire, then shook his head. “These are way too wet. Shit,” he said, talking to himself. “It’s probably going to be morning before they’re dry. Looks like a cold night.”

  The man let out a deep sigh as he got to his feet, then he turned to face me.

  He was older than me, but not yet middle aged. His dark hair was straight and just a little too long, but didn’t go much past his ears. He had a couple days growth on his face, and striking blue eyes that reminded me of the sky on a clear, spring day. His gaze was focused on the room, and it swept slowly over everything, taking it all in before moving back to me.

  His mouth turned down. “You okay?”

  I shook my head, unable to find my voice, and when the man took a step closer to me, I found myself shrinking away.

  He raised his hands but didn’t step back. “I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”

  I nodded and he stepped closer.

  “I need to get a look at your injury.” He knelt at my side. “It’s not going to be fun, but if we don’t get it clean you could die of infection.”

  I was breathing heavily, and the second his hands moved to undo my jacket all the air left my lungs as my uncle’s warning rang in my ears.

  “Lucy, you’re a beautiful girl. There are men in this world who would take you by force and not even think twice about it.”

  The man in front of me didn’t seem to notice my discomfort as he unbuttoned my jacket, but taking it off was impossible with the stick still jutting out of my shoulder. His hands went to the hem of my sweater and my heart beat even faster when his fingers brushed the bare skin of my stomach.

  The man paused, my sweater still held in his hands, and his blue eyes moved to my face. He studied me like he was searching for something.

  After a few seconds he nodded, almost like he’d found the answer he was looking for, and then he said, “I want to get a look at your injury before I pull the stick out. Understand?” I nodded and he tilted his head to the side. He acted like he thought I didn’t really get it. “I’m going to pull your shirt up.”

  He was right, I hadn’t understood. My cheeks grew hot and the urge to scream for help was so strong I had to swallow it down. There was no one to help me, anyway. I was alone and it hit me like a punch in the face how much I was at this man’s mercy.

  He didn’t move, waiting patiently for me calm down. It took almost a full minute for my breathing to slow, and even then I was so tense it felt like my body had turned to stone.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded, then squeezed my eyes shut as he slowly pulled my sweater up.

  Cold air caressed my stomach, then the skin over my ribcage. When my bare breasts were exposed the tiny buds hardened from the icy air. I sucked in a deep breath and the man moved my sweater higher. When he exhaled, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed any longer.

  His eyes met mine and the blush that had warmed my cheeks earlier grew until I was sure my face would burst into flames. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all though, which only made the whole situation even more mortifying.

  “I need to pull it out,” he said gently.

  I swallowed, trying to find my voice. Thinking of him removing the stick from my body wasn’t nearly as awful as laying in front of him nearly naked. I wanted it over with. No one had ever seen me without clothes on before now, and having this stranger so close to my bare flesh made my whole body tremble with fear.

  “Do it fast,” I said, staring at the ceiling so I wouldn’t have to meet his piercing gaze.

  The man took another deep breath as he grabbed the base of the branch. I expected him to count, to give me some kind of warning, but he didn’t. He yanked the wood out and my whole body jerked as my scream echoed through the cabin.

  Blood pooled on my chest, seeping from the tiny puncture wound, and the man’s eyes got huge. “Shit. Do you have first aid stuff?”

  “Kitchen,” I gasped, still trying to calm my pounding heart. “Pantry.”

  The man got to his feet and ran for the kitchen, leaving me alone with my naked, aching body. I wanted to pull my sweater down, but there was blood everywhere. Instead, I covered the wound with my bare hand. The blood was hot and sticky against my icy fingers.

  A few seconds later he was back, carrying a couple rags and the bottle of alcohol Uncle Seamus used for injuries. The man pushed my hands away and put the rag next to the wound, then poured alcohol directly into it. I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself not to cry out as the alcohol stung its way into the hole. It felt like it was searing my insides. I clenched my hands into tight fists and forced myself to hold still, knowing the pain was worth it. We needed to be certain the wound was clean.

  “Hold this.” He forced my hand over the rag, pushing it against the injury so hard it literally throbbed against my palm. Then he got to his feet and pulled me up to a sitting position. “We need to take this off.”

  He slipped my jacket down my arms, then went for my sweater, causing warning bells to go off in my brain and every inch of my skin to heat up.

  I shook my head, pushing him away with my free hand as panic swirled around inside me. “What? No!”

  “We have to clean it.” His voice was tender, but firm. When I didn’t move, he let out a deep sigh. “Do it, or I’ll hold you down and cut the thing off.”

  My body trembled harder as my uncle’s words swirled through my head again. I was terrified of what this man had in store for me once he got me naked, but there was nothing I could do. Even healthy I would be no match for him, but with as weak and scared as I was right now, he would be able to overpower me with almost no effort. Maybe it was better not to fight.

  I kept the rag pressed against the wound as the man helped me wiggle out of the sweater. It dropped to the floor a
nd my stomach followed. Now naked from the waist up, I had the urge to cross my arms over chest, but my injury prevented it. Then it didn’t matter because the man pushed my hand off the wound and ordered me to stay still.

  He moved closer, trying to get a better look as he cleaned it, and his wrist brushed against my breast. An odd tingling sensation went through my body, and my face grew hotter than ever. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but when I snuck a couple peeks his way, he wasn’t focused on anything but my injury.

  “It doesn’t look as bad as I expected it to,” he said, leaning even closer. “I’m going to need to clean it out a little more, but it should heal pretty well. You got lucky.”

  His warm breath brushed over my breasts and a very strange sensation began in the pit of my stomach. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was pleasant, but in a confusing way, and as the seconds ticked by and the man’s strong hands moved over my skin more and more, the sensation grew in intensity. Soon, I found myself squirming under his touch, oblivious to the pain of him cleaning my wound. He moved closer and the warmth spread, turning into an ache.

  “That’s the best I can do.” He leaned back and pressed a clean cloth hard against my injured shoulder. “Hold this again.”

  I nodded, unable to find my voice, and took over holding the cloth.

  The man grabbed a roll of bandages off the table and slowly unwound them. “Hold your arm up.”

  I complied and he wrapped the bandage around me. Starting at the wound, he stretched the bandages under my arm then over my back and down my shoulder. Over and over he went, making quick work of it. His hands brushing across my skin, occasionally nudging my breast. Making the heat inside me increase and my heart beat faster. His knuckles swept over my nipple and I sucked in a deep breath. His eyes met mine, but he didn’t smile or act like he was in any way affected. Not like I was. Heat spread through me, but this time it was from more than just embarrassment.