Red Zone

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “It’s dispersed some,” he pointed out. “It retreated from the water pretty damn quickly after it was released.”

  “Another mystery. Why disperse from the water, but not the land?”

  “At least the rivers run clean.”

  They fell silent again, contemplating the evidence of mankind’s arrogance, his belief that he was in control of his world and could do what he liked with it.

  “Do you know what this is? The red mist?” Friday finally asked. “It’s a monument to how greedy and evil mankind can be. A permanent reminder of what we’re capable of. A red scar on the face of the planet. That’s us. We’re a plague. A blight. We don’t deserve to be here.”

  “Okay, Susie Sunshine.” Striker crouched in front of her. “Should I bother trying to save your life, or would you rather end it all here and now?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Too much?”

  “Just a bit.”

  She chewed at her lip before talking. “I’m worried what will happen when we go in there.”

  That was priceless. He threw back his head and laughed, long and hard. When he wiped his eye and looked at her, she was glaring at him. He held out his hand and tugged her to her feet.

  “Bébé, you’re either gonna die in there, or the poison’s gonna get you out here. You got nothing to lose. Now how about trusting me for a change? Didn’t those Freedom contacts of yours tell you that I’m the best? Have a little faith, huh?”

  She batted those thick eyelashes at him. “How about I keep my more maudlin thoughts to myself instead?”

  He shrugged. “That works, too. Now take off your clothes.”

  …

  Friday blinked at him, unsure she’d heard correctly. “What?”

  His smile was pure wickedness. “I said, get naked, chère.”

  He folded his arms, making those unnaturally large biceps of his bulge. The snake tattoo on his neck glinted in the blue light from the lantern and for one fanciful moment, she thought it watched her, too.

  “Remember our deal,” the devil said. “You do anything I want, anytime I want.”

  She gaped at him. Opening and closing her mouth like a fish stuck on dry land. “You want to have sex? Here?” She pointedly looked around them, first at the rocky ground beneath her, then at the rim of the canyon behind her and, finally at the cloud of heavy red fog on her other side. She could see this was going to be just as romantic as her last sexual encounter. “The ground is too rough. It will rip up my skin. I could get an infection.”

  When she looked back up at him, his grin was all teeth, and his shoulders were shaking.

  “Are you laughing at me?” She was outraged. There was no way she was having sex with him under these conditions. She didn’t care what their deal was. She’d rather walk into the red than surrender.

  “Bébé.” He closed the distance between them and clasped the top of her arms. “I don’t want to have sex here. I never even mentioned sex when I negotiated our deal. But I find it highly entertaining that no matter what I tell you to do, you assume it will lead in that direction.” She felt her cheeks burn as he leaned in to talk against her ear. “Now strip.”

  “If you don’t want sex, why do I have to strip?”

  He turned his back on her to dig around in the storage box, coming out with a tub of body cream. “I need to cover your skin with this, to help protect you from the mist.”

  She eyed him and his magic cream suspiciously. As far as she was aware, there was nothing that would keep the red mist from being absorbed into the skin. This sounded like a childish ploy to get his hands on her body.

  “Whatever you’re thinking right now,” he said when she looked up at him, “don’t tell me. Save it for later. I know from the look on your face that it’s going to be good, and we don’t have the time for me to fully appreciate it.” He cocked his head. “Now strip, or I’ll do it for you.”

  “This is embarrassing.”

  “Not for me.” He grinned, obviously having fun.

  “What is that cream? And do you honestly think it will save me from the mist?”

  He rubbed a hand over his head in a gesture she had come to realize meant he was losing patience. “It’s kind of like a barrier cream. One of my team developed it. It won’t protect you from the mist for more than a few seconds, at best. But that’s more time than you’d have without it. Think of it as another layer of defense under your protective suit.”

  “You must be insane if you think I’ll be able to walk through that”—she pointed at the mist—“protected by a suit and some sun cream.”

  He looked up at the starry sky for a second. “Woman, can’t you do one thing without knowing the ins and outs of it?”

  She thought about that for a second. “No.”

  He mumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch, and then he took a step toward her. “You’re going to find out anyway.” He lazily reached for the hidden fasteners down the front of her suit, before hooking his fingers under the seam and peeling it apart. All the while, his eye stayed on hers. “There are paths through the red cloud.”

  Friday gasped. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the shocking information or from the heady experience of him undressing her. Even though she knew she shouldn’t be attracted to the man who held her life in his hands, she couldn’t help the pull she felt toward him. He fascinated her with his confident grace and his easy sexuality. He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known, and the urge to get closer to him was almost overwhelming.

  “Paths?” Her voice seemed more husky than usual.

  His eye darkened. “Like a maze. You need to know the right paths, and you need to stick to them. You can’t touch the cloud. If you do, bad things happen.” The last fastener on her suit popped open and the front gaped apart, catching on her breasts but baring her from throat to navel. “Think of it as something similar to the tunnel we went through, only deadly.”

  “The tunnel we went through was deadly, too.” She could still hear the roar of the earth closing in behind them as they ran, a strange contrast to the feeling of the cool night air on her skin.

  “Yeah, but not like the mist can be.” He trailed his index finger from the hollow of her throat all the way down her body to the indentation of her navel. “Never felt anything softer.”

  Her skin burned in his wake.

  “How will the suit and barrier cream protect me if I touch the mist?” She stepped back, away from his touch, grasping the edges of her suit to hold it together and feeling a modicum of regret that she’d removed herself from his touch.

  “It will buy you time.” His gaze was intense when he looked at her. “There’s a way to counteract the mist while it’s still on the skin, before it’s absorbed. The cream buys us the time we need.”

  Everything within her stilled. “You know how to counteract the mist?” she whispered.

  That kind of knowledge was priceless. It was worth far more than anything she had in her head. He didn’t need her or the money she could make him. He had the potential for riches at his fingertips.

  “I know how to stop the mist from being absorbed. I don’t know how to counteract it once it’s inside the body.”

  “You make it sound like you know something mundane. What you’re describing is the biggest breakthrough concerning the mist in a hundred years. It could blow the scientific community wide open and change what we know about the Red Zone. Not to mention, it could make you rich. You could sell that knowledge.” Her voice began to rise at the thought. “There isn’t a ruling body on the planet that wouldn’t pay for it. Not to mention pharmaceutical companies. They would be falling over themselves to own your research. You would be famous.”

  “I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want to sell what I know. I just want to live peaceably.”

  “But—”

  “—no buts. This is set in stone. I ain’t gonna change my mind. There’s too much at risk. This knowledge stays with me. You got t
hat?” The deadly tone from the bar was back, and it made her shiver.

  “I understand.” She thought about it for a second. “No, I don’t understand, but I respect that’s what you want.”

  He studied her, as though trying to assess if she meant what she said. “Good enough. Now strip. I’ll rub this on your back, and you can do your front.” He gave her a smile that would charm the pants of a saint. “Unless you want me to do both.”

  “No!” The word came out like a shot, but she wasn’t entirely sure she meant it.

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He stepped closer. “For now. You need help getting that suit off?”

  With her cheeks burning, Friday let the black suit drop to her ankles. She kicked off her boots and stood there dressed in nothing but her plain white panties. The chilled night air nipped at her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

  “Underwear, too.” His voice was hoarse; she felt the words as breath on the back of her neck.

  Quickly, as though ripping off a taped dressing, she pushed her underwear down and kicked it to the side.

  He groaned behind her, and Friday felt her body flush. She was standing naked. In front of a fully dressed man. Outside. It was almost too much to comprehend. Definitely too much to deal with.

  “Get on with it.” The words were harsher than she’d intended.

  “My pleasure.”

  She felt the warmth from his body at her back and then cold cream touched her shoulder. She jerked.

  “Shh, bébé, it’s gonna be fine.” He cooed the words to her, intending to soothe, but instead causing tingles of sensation to ripple over her skin.

  Slowly, methodically, his hand skimmed over her shoulders and down her back. He didn’t linger. Didn’t turn his touch into something lecherous. He was gentle, but thorough, making sure to cover every inch of her skin. She found herself swaying into his touch. Her eyes drifted closed. The silence and darkness became like a cocoon. A safe place where she could just be. Where she could live without expectation and feel without reserve. For once. She felt Striker’s breath on her skin as he moved down her body. She trembled when he traced the curves of her rear, fighting the urge to arch into his touch as he caressed the cream onto her skin.

  Large hands worked their way down her thighs and over her calf muscles. By the time he’d finished, she was trembling—a boneless, dazed, and disorientated mess. She felt his presence in front of her, and she had to fight to lift her suddenly heavy eyelids.

  “Beautiful.” He reached for her, but stopped midair, snatching his hand back. “Damn it!” He snapped the words before turning on his heels and striding away from her.

  She couldn’t take her eyes from him as an unfamiliar longing swept through her. She recognized the need on his face and suspected it was on hers, too. He let out a low stream of French that sounded like curse words, then strode toward her. He thrust the pot of cream into her hands before turning away.

  “Do the rest,” he ordered.

  Friday studied his back as he bent to rummage through the box. She didn’t have much experience with men, and she wasn’t sure what his change in mood meant. Did it mean she’d done something wrong? Or did it mean she’d done something very, very right?

  “You need to finish the job and get dressed.” His harsh tone snapped her back straight. He threw a containment suit at her. “Put that on once you’re done. Don’t forget to cover your face and your eyelids with cream, too.”

  With a nod, she reached into the jar for a handful of cream. She slathered it onto her breasts, trying hard not to notice how sensitive her nipples were or how needy she felt deep inside her body.

  “Just so you know,” his low, rumbling voice said behind her. “We were about ten seconds away from having sex on the desert floor. I’d advise you speed things up unless you want me to pick up where I left off.”

  Slowly, facing the darkness, Friday smiled.

  Chapter Eleven

  She’d gone from being naked to being wrapped in so many layers she could barely move. Her skin felt oily from the cream, and her jumpsuit stuck to her body in a way that definitely wasn’t comfortable. On top of her jumpsuit, she wore a body protection suit—full head mask, elbow-length gloves, and knee-high reinforced boots. She knew from her student days that the suit was made up of three layers. The one closest to the skin was a heavy cotton, chemically treated to neutralize as many dangerous biogens as possible. Then came a fine metallic mesh, to protect against rips in the suit. Lastly, the whole thing was fused together by a synthetic polymer that repelled most liquids and filtered gases.

  The viewscreen on her mask was made of reinforced glass. It could stop a bullet if it had to, which made the helmet heavy and cumbersome. Her boots were reinforced with alloys, as were her gloves. The gloves were the sort used in refineries to pick up molten metals, which meant they were insanely thick and difficult to maneuver.

  “I feel like I’m going into space,” she said through the communication outlet in her helmet.

  “Yeah, I think spacesuits might be easier to move in.”

  Striker adjusted his boots. They weren’t the same as the ones she wore. In fact, now that she really looked, there seemed to be quite a few differences in his suit. For one, it seemed to have more flexibility than hers, and the gloves appeared thinner, enabling greater dexterity. It worried her that familiarity with the Red Zone might have made him blasé about the dangers.

  “Why is your suit lighter than mine? Surely you haven’t cut back on protective measures in your arrogance?”

  He stilled and curled up from checking his boots. He studied her for a moment, his expression difficult to read through their respective helmets. “Nobody ever noticed that before.”

  That didn’t answer the question, so she asked it again. “Are you taking unnecessary risks?” The thought of him playing recklessly with his life bothered her on a fundamental level. She wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe because if he was hurt, there would be no one to save her.

  “No.”

  “Then why is your suit thinner?” She frowned at him, working through her memory of the moments earlier. She’d been focused on the strange vulnerability of being naked in front of someone and hadn’t paid any attention to what he’d been doing. “Did you put cream on, too? I don’t recall you doing it.”

  He made a move to rub a hand over his head, as he usually did when he was cornered, only to remember it was covered.

  “Time is ticking. We need to get going. Stay right on my heels. As close as you can, without getting hurt. Do not move to the left or the right. Stay on the path. There will be times when we have to crawl. Don’t put your head up unless I tell you it’s okay.”

  “But, your suit—”

  He cursed in French before storming toward her and grabbing her upper arms. The fury that poured from him made Friday shrink back. He seemed taller, bigger, more intimidating than he’d been a moment earlier.

  He gave her body a sharp shake. “This isn’t the time for questions. You need to focus. You need to follow orders. If you can’t do that, then I’ll take you back to Munroe.”

  She felt her blood rush through her veins. He oozed danger and violence. A man capable of anything. She’d become too comfortable with him. Too reliant on him. She’d forgotten that she didn’t know him, and she’d definitely forgotten how deadly he could be.

  “Got it?” he snapped at her.

  “Yes. Yes. I’ve got it.” She jerked back, trying to break his overpowering hold. Even through all of her layers it felt like her arms were in vices.

  “Do as you’re told. Keep that big brain of yours focused on following orders. If we make it through this alive, you can ask all the questions you want. Until then, all you have to do is exactly what I tell you to do. Your life depends on it.”

  “I understand.” His one good eye seemed to glow as it reflected the light from the lantern. For a second, the yellow flecks in the brown seemed to take over, making him look eerie.
Making him seem other than human.

  She shook her arms free—aware that she’d only managed to shake off his hold because he’d allowed it.

  “Stay at my back. When we aren’t crawling, hold my belt. Follow close, right behind me, in my footsteps.”

  “I will.”

  His bulk seemed to shrink back to normal, which was still huge. He studied her for a moment, as though trying to ascertain whether he could trust her word or not. He nodded when he came to his conclusion. “Let’s go.”

  Friday’s limbs shook, completely thrown by their interaction. She still had questions. Her brain wouldn’t stop just because he’d ordered it. There were too many anomalies. If she had the time, if this were a different situation, she would have fought for answers. But there wasn’t time. And this wasn’t the right situation. Which meant she had to bury her concerns and focus on doing exactly what he’d told her to do, because her life was, literally, in his hands.

  Striker switched the lantern off and placed it in the box.

  “Turn on your suit lights.” His voice was cold, distant. The musical sensuality from earlier was gone.

  With a tug at the chord on the front of her suit, the small directional lights sealed into it came on.

  “Okay.” He nodded his approval once he’d checked her lights. “We’re heading that direction.” He pointed along the endless red barrier. “Stay on my left. I want to be between you and the cloud. I’ll let you know once we hit the path we need to take.”

  Friday nodded, then realized that with the bulk of the suit he probably wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. “Stay on your left,” she repeated instead.

  “Good.” He turned in the direction he’d indicated and strode forward, checking to make sure she was at his side, where he’d told her to be. The black night swallowed them as they made their way along the narrow strip of barren land between the high border wall and the red mist. She looked up at the wall, noting the dim glow of the lights along the top of it.

  “They don’t monitor this side of the wall?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I know you said to stop questioning everything. But I can’t help it. It’s how my brain works. I promise you, I am completely focused on what we’re about to do and will follow your instructions to the letter. I just can’t help that there are other things in my head at the same time.”