Red Eye: Season Three, Episode One: An Armageddon Zombie Survival Thriller

by Eli Constant

  He was a barrier against the beast.

  A savior, even if I didn’t know if I could really trust him.

  “Mine, Nathan.” Barrett only needed the two words to make his point.

  “Be seeing you both,” Nathan said as he strode away.

  “Sure as fuck will if that tone keeps up,” Barrett jabbed playfully at his back as he walked away.

  “Now, now, Barrett. My company’s always a pleasure.”

  I seethed as the other man walked away, but I forced myself to breathe steadily and regain a seed of control.

  “Come on, I was serious about that shower.” Barrett moved me away from his chest, but kept his arm around me so we were still close. Reaching down, he snagged his bag again.

  “Thought you were giving me the grand tour.” I tried to pull away and put some space between us, but he was still holding me firmly.

  “I will, after the bathroom.” He kept walking forward, dragging me along.

  “Can you stop manhandling me?” I scowled. “Do you realize what it feels like to walk in Nevada without shoes? My feet are freaking charred.”

  Without hesitation, Barrett stopped, picked me up with the one hand not carrying his backpack, and he threw me over one shoulder roughly. I grunted as my stomach jerked into his body.

  “Better, princess?” He spoke with a laugh lacing his words.

  “You’re such an—”

  “Asshole,” he finished for me, smacking my ass hard enough to leave a mark.

  As he carried me toward the communal restrooms and showers, Barrett pointed out a few buildings. The small restaurants that spotted the large waterpark had been turned into drug kitchens. He drew my attention to the pale vapors rising from the roof vents, and the people coming in and out of the building wearing protective masks. I tried to focus on things as I bounced on his shoulder. My nose crinkled when an aroma not unlike nail polish remover hit it.

  “God, what is that smell?” I pinched my nose.

  “Meth. Some people say it smells like nothing; others say it smells like cat piss and ammonia.”

  “Barrett, put me down.” I slapped at his back with my free hand. I couldn’t take my eyes off the people exiting the drug kitchens.

  “Can’t let the princess hurt her feet,” he countered condescendingly.

  “Come on.” I slapped his back again.

  “As my lady commands.” He set me down slowly, making sure our bodies pressed together every inch of the way. When my feet hit the hot ground, I instantly regretted not letting him carry me all the way. He must have seen it in my face, because the jerk smirked.

  When we started walking again, I pointed at one of the drug workers wearing a mask. He looked so young. Maybe he wasn’t, maybe there were age lines all around his mouth that I couldn’t see because of the protective gear, but I doubted it. “Some of them look really young. Barely teens.”

  “Most of them are.” He nodded. “Cooking’s got a lot of hazards. The younger the body and lungs, the more time we get out of them.”

  “Barrett...that’s awful. If they’re kids, they shouldn’t be here. They should be in school or with their families—”

  “Not all people have families, Sam. You’re showing your entitled ignorance again.”

  His words cut me and I clamped my mouth closed tightly. Of course not all people had family to turn to or access to medication, but to bring them into this kind of world… There had to be a better option.

  “Besides, ain’t no school or families anymore anyhow.”

  “They’re just kids,” I finally said weakly.

  “I was just a kid,” he rebuked as he brought us to a stop in front of the park bathrooms. He looked at the men’s room door, then looked back at me. His face was thoughtful. “Ain’t making the gas station mistake again.”

  “What do you mean?” I barely got the question out before he yanked me through one of the doors and into the guys’ restroom.

  “Barrett, let me go.” I tried to pull away from his grasp. “I’ll be fine outside.”

  “Sure you will. Last time I left you alone in front of a bathroom, you were almost zombie chow.” He quirked an eyebrow, daring me to argue.

  “Not like a zombie would actually eat me,” I mumbled in irritation. Finally he let go of me, and I crossed my arms, disgruntled. Truthfully, I was grateful for the floor beneath my feet. It was so much colder, and I hadn’t been lying when I said my feet were burnt from the heat.

  “The worst things here ain’t zombies, Sam. They’re human fucking men with bones to bury.”

  I blushed at that.

  And blushed deeper when Barrett started stripping as he walked away from me. He passed the row of toilet stalls and dropped his backpack to the floor as he came to the showers at the back of the building. He slid his shirt off his shoulders slowly and tossed it down, then reached into the nearest one and turned the knobs. Water sputtered out with a clay tinge, but then quickly cleared up to produce a steady waterfall. There were no curtains blocking the view. From where I was standing, I was going to see everything.

  At first I stood in shock, watching the back of his muscular body. His shoulders were mountains, dipping down into ultra-tanned definition. His spine was the river in between, and I wanted to trail my fingers down the valley of it. He undid his pants and slid them down his hips and legs, revealing tight black underwear. When he stepped out of the pants, he turned to me as if he felt my eyes glued to the view.

  “Like what you see?” He spoke cockily and I couldn’t help myself. My gaze darted downward past his hard abs and I found the irresistible angled lines reaching from his hips…toward hidden places. The underwear was slung low. It would take the lightest tug to reveal the part of him that had throbbed with promise earlier.

  He read my mind.

  And he pushed his thumbs into the waistband. He moved his hands slowly, revealing inch by inch. My face felt hot, my breath coming in rapid, hitching waves.

  Just before the length of him was revealed, I turned away, blushing furiously, and he chuckled.

  I stared at my feet, hearing his black underwear join his pants on the ground.

  I heard him step into the shower and I turned back around casually.

  Steam was rising from the tiled floor to fog around his naked body, and I felt overwhelming need. My body vibrated and pulsed. I licked my lips nervously as Barrett turned to the side. His profile was just as sinful as his backside, which was thick and plump, rounded like the freaking statue of David, and I bet it was hard enough to bounce a quarter off of too.

  He tilted his head, running hands through his long black hair.

  And I couldn’t stand it anymore. If he turned around all the way and I saw that promise in his pants on full display…I might just run into the shower and join him.

  I turned tail and rushed out the bathroom door, not caring if he saw and got pissed.

  Chapter Four.

  Rose

  The clothes were…slutty. That was the only way to describe them. I guess that’s what they were though: whore clothes. My stomach turned over, my hands continuing to move through the piles of creased clothing.

  How, at the end of the world, were men still thinking about sex? That was the last thing on my mind.

  That wasn’t exactly true, I realized as my thoughts strayed to Nolan. I hadn’t thought about getting down under the covers with him, but he did ignite something in me. That was for certain. Still, I had no real interest in sex when I was just trying to survive day to day.

  This was why women lived longer than men; we thought with more than our little heads.

  “You picked something out yet?” Sandra asked as she sidled up next to me. “That one is pretty. You’d look great in that.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to look pretty. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here.” The words came out mumbled, but she heard them all the same, and when I looked across at her, sympathy shone from her eyes.

 
“You’d really prefer to be out there with the dead?” She raised an eyebrow at me when I nodded. Her hands moved to the pile of clothes and she started to rummage through it. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that or that’s just where you’ll go.”

  “Good!” I said, a little louder.

  Sandra sighed and turned to me. “It’s not good. I’ve seen it before. You’re dumped outside the gate with no weapons, no nothing, and they set a horde on you. You wouldn’t last sixty seconds. Now come on, let’s find you some clothes before he gets back.”

  I didn’t say anything back that time.

  Part of me really thought I’d prefer my chances outside the gate.

  The other part of me was scared shitless at the idea.

  She returned to the clothes, ignoring my outburst. “This stuff is all new. I don’t want to turn your stomach or anything—because they’ve all been washed, so don’t panic—but the guys get these from the dead. I just thought that you should know.”

  I didn’t think I could be any more disgusted, and yet there I was feeling even more disgusted… god, this place was horrendous. No wonder Barrett liked it here so much. Anger flared in my stomach at the thought of him.

  “Ooh, this could be cute with a little adjustment and you’d get plenty of action from the sports fans.” Sandra held up a white striped shirt and held it against me. “Yeah, we can cut it shorter and then tie it here so it shows off your belly. Let’s see if we can find a skirt to go with it, or some shorts.”

  She handed me the shirt, and honestly, I was glad of it. I began stripping out of Nathan’s shirt straight away, more than happy to get his scent off my skin. I slid the shirt over my shoulders, uncaring about the other women that were watching me. Being practically naked in a cage and on full display of whoever walked will do that to a girl. Sandra turned around with a pair of white shorts that looked like they were made for a child…oh God.

  “I am not wearing them,” I hissed between my teeth. I felt doubly disgusted—firstly that she was attempting to pour my skinny arse into a pair of tiny children’s shorts, and secondly that they were shorts made for a child. A child that was now dead.

  She scowled and grabbed the next thing—a black skirt—and handed it to me. “We’ll have to cut this shorter.”

  I pulled the skirt on, tucking in the shirt quickly. I felt strange wearing these clothes. The clothes of other people against my skin.

  She’d claimed they were washed after being stripped from the dead.

  Should that make me feel better?

  Did soap and water really take away the stain of what had happened to the original owners?

  It didn’t.

  I could feel it.

  “She can’t wear that,” Destiny snapped from behind me, and I turned to watch her pick up Nathan’s shirt from the floor and hold it to her face. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not, but it looked like she sniffed it. She slid out of her tiny top and put on Nathan’s shirt before grabbing a pair of scissors and hacking the bottom half of it off. “That’s better,” she said, and then looked at me. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “I’m good,” I said, taking a step away from her. I didn’t want her anywhere near me or these clothes with a pair of scissors.

  Sandra started to untuck the shirt, and despite my protests, between Destiny and Sandra they hacked off the bottom half of it so that the hem was just below my breasts.

  “Much better,” Sandra said, looking pleased with herself. “Let’s trim the skirt now.”

  The skirt was already above the knee, and that was already shorter than I would have ever worn previously, so I sidestepped them both and held my hands out in front of me.

  “That’s enough, this will have to do,” I grumbled as I wrapped my arms around my body to cover some of my bare skin. I was a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of girl, not a hoochie-shorts-and-boob-tube kind of girl. “Okay, I need some shoes. Please tell me you have trainers?”

  Sandra and Destiny exchanged a look. “Trainers?” Sandra asked, and Destiny smirked like she thought I was an idiot.

  “Yeah…trainers. I’m not wearing high heels or anything, I’ll fall over.” I sighed, wishing, not for the first time, that I was somewhere else.

  That and I won’t be able to run in high heels, and that’s exactly what I intend on doing at the earliest opportunity.

  “Listen, I’ve not worn high heels since…” I cast my mind back, attempting to think of a time when I had actually worn high heels.

  “Prom?” Sandra prompted.

  “No, since my grandmother’s seventieth birthday, and those were only an inch high. I never wore heels, so don’t expect me to now.”

  I never wore heels because I never went out. I stayed at home, like a good little daughter. I studied, I revised, I worked hard. I had early nights and drank cups of tea. I watched Coronation Street with my parents and went to yoga on a Monday evening. I didn’t wear heels or skirts or…

  “I don’t know what trainers are, but you don’t get any shoes here,” Sandra said, the sympathy back in her voice.

  I frowned at them both, my gaze finally going to the floor and noticing that they weren’t wearing anything on their feet. My gaze moved around the room to the other women there, and I noticed that no one was wearing any shoes.

  “What? Why don’t we get shoes?” I asked, caution in my tone. “Do they not scavenge shoes from the dead, or is that deemed inappropriate?” I quirked an eyebrow.

  “It’s harder to run away with no shoes on. This is Las Vegas, sweetheart, Las Vegas at the end of the world; the ground is hard, hot, and covered in god knows what. So we get a lot of things—food, water, safety, clothing, beds—but not shoes,” Destiny said, her hard gaze hitting me.

  I swallowed down the fear that tried to crawl its way back up my body, refusing to give in to it. “We also get used, abused, raped…”

  “Raped?” Destiny scowled like I’d said something inappropriate. “I’m sorry, did you forget that the world ended? Did you forget that the dead are roaming the earth wanting to eat our brains? Did you forget that the only currency you have right now is your body because everything else is fucking worthless?” She pushed my shoulder, her long fingernail jabbing into my bone hard enough to make me wince. “This isn’t rape, sweetheart. This is survival, and I can’t think of a better place to survive but right here. Let the men go and get themselves killed while I get to play dress-up and be looked after.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to any of that. It seemed insanity. Utter insanity. But there was no reasoning with the insane, the act itself would be insane. I glanced between Sandra and Destiny, figuring that Sandra didn’t quite see it with such rosy glasses, but she had learned to accept her fate. She turned on the grateful charm for Nathan, but underneath she knew the reality of her situation.

  “I’m guessing socks are too much to ask for too, huh?” I asked dryly. My suspicions were confirmed when Sandra nodded.

  “Let’s get you something to eat,” she said instead, her arm linking mine like we were best friends. She guided me through a small doorway to another open-plan room that was filled with scantily clad women. Along the back wall was a table with food and bottles of water on top, and we headed over. My stomach growled loudly in happiness at the prospect of food.

  None of it looked particularly appetizing, but I was so hungry and would eat a scabby dog right then if I needed too, so I grabbed one of the plates and piled it with food—rice, beans, an apple, a jar of peanut butter all stacked onto my plate. And when I couldn’t fit any more on, Sandra led me to a small table where we sat down.

  I dove into my food like a woman half-starved. I guess I was.

  Starved for food, water, love, affection, and starved for survival. Because at the moment, my odds of surviving this seem pretty pitiful.

  “All right, angels, I need a handful of you little darlings to accompany me to see the big boss,” Nathan’s voice bellowed from the other room. Everything had gone silent an
d the women left the room and headed towards his voice like rats on a sinking ship.

  The food I’d just eaten soured in my gut, my hand poised over the half-eaten jar of peanut butter. My gaze was glued to the doorway, waiting for him to come in and see me. I dropped my spoon to the table and it clattered noisily, making me jump.

  “It’s okay,” Sandra soothed, her hand on my arm.

  But it wasn’t okay.

  It wasn’t!

  Destiny came through the doorway and towards my table before dragging me up to my feet. “When he calls, you come. It’s pretty simple,” she bit out angrily. Her nails dug into my skin painfully as she pulled me across the room and back through the doorway.

  Destiny pushed her way through the crowd of women until we came to stand in front of Nathan. His smile fell when he saw me, his hazel eyes drinking in the bare flesh around my waist that I tried to cover up. He took a step closer, his hand reaching for mine. He held me at arm’s length and he looked me up and down, spinning me in front of him. I felt ridiculous and furious and scared. Paraded in front of everyone like I was an animal.

  And it was only going to get worse.

  “Skirt needs to be shorter,” he said thoughtfully, his expression serious as his gaze slipped to Destiny. “But I like this.” He fingered my shirt, his smile perking up at the corners. My heart hammered against my ribcage as his hand brushed against my bare flesh. “Syndergaard. I like it, little Rose, I like it a lot. I didn’t know you were a sports fan.”

  “I’m not,” I said, my voice soft.

  Nathan barked out a laugh. “So you didn’t pick out this baseball shirt?”

  I shook my head.

  “And you have no idea who Syndergaard is?”

  I shook my head again.

  “Or was.” His smile grew. “Caught him hiding out in his hotel room a couple of days ago. He was already too far gone to save. Damn shame I say.”