Surviving Hell (Hell Virus Book 2)

by Kit Tunstall

  I was able to fill up my shopping cart the rest of the way before selecting new hiking boots. I’d be doing a lot of walking in the coming days if I was going to have to leave my sanctuary on a regular basis.

  It was a foolish thing to do, but I didn’t even think about it. I truly thought I had the place to myself, and it seemed unnecessary to go into the dressing room to change when I was right there by the items I needed. I stripped down, taking off everything, and reached for a package of baby wipes. I’d found a case of those, along with some diapers. I’d left the diapers, having no need of them and assuming someone else might, but I had been ecstatic to find the wipes.

  The baby wipe bath wasn’t as clean as the pan bath I let myself have the luxury of twice a week, but it was certainly better than nothing. I felt less grimy, though I couldn’t fool myself into pretending I was clean as I slipped on new socks, new underwear, and a pair of jeans.

  I was just about to fasten my bra when arms wrapped around me. I screamed before a hand clamped over my face, cutting off my ability to breathe. I tried to struggle, but the person had taken me by surprise. Person? No, it was definitely a man. I was able to identify that by the fleshy arms around me, and the thick growth of dark hair sprouting from his forearms. The hand was far too large to belong to most women as well, and when the form forced me to the floor, making me bend down with my butt in the air so he could rub himself against me obscenely, there could be no doubt it was a man holding me.

  If I could have spoken, I might have been dumb enough to ask him what he wanted, but I knew what he wanted. It was obvious. Like a fucking idiot, I had left my guns in the shopping cart, laying them there while I slipped on clean clothes. It was just a few feet away, but those feet might as well have been miles.

  When he started tugging at the new jeans I’d just put on, I realized I was angrier at the idea of him ripping them than I was at him attacking me. It was an irrational response, but it must have been fueled by adrenaline. Somehow, I managed to wedge my elbow free and bring it back, colliding with his cheek. His hand fell away, and I grunted as pain flared up arm, but mine was nothing compared to his curse and shout, indicating I had done more damage to him than myself.

  As his hold weakened, I tried to scramble away, but couldn’t quite make it. Instead, I turned over and tried to wedge my feet between us, hoping I could kick him off me with a move similar to the leg presses I’d had do in gym class during the weightlifting unit, when Mrs. Fleming had seemed to take particular joy in torturing me with all the machines at her disposal.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t manage to move any farther than getting my knees against his chest. All that did was open up my thighs to him, allowing him to press his denim-clad dick between my legs. Bile seared my throat, and if I had eaten anything recently, I probably would have been able to vomit all over him. Instead, I simply dry heaved and kept fighting as he put his hand between us.

  The creep was clearly intent on removing his penis from his pants and putting it inside me without invitation. At least he was no longer holding my face and blocking my flow of oxygen, so I was able to think more clearly, and I started screaming again. At that point, I didn’t care who came, though I really didn’t expect anyone. I thought it was just me and Mr. Rapist, and I prepared myself for the worst.

  I certainly didn’t expect five men in military garb to suddenly appear, surrounding us. For a moment, I thought they must be with the asshole pinning me down, but then one of them, the tallest of the group, who had gleaming ebony skin, a bald head, and thick muscles, leaned down and lifted the scumbag off me, seeming without any effort at all. He tossed him against a shelf, and another one of the five trained his gun on the dirt bag as he stood over him, yelling, “Don’t move, you rapist piece of shit.”

  I wanted to be strong and cool, but it isn’t every day you’re nearly raped, and I fell apart. I was embarrassed as tears flowed from my eyes. Strong arms picked me up, holding me against a muscled chest as I cried. In my current state, I was amazed to realize I was burying my face against the hard planes under my face, sniffing appreciatively.

  He smelled lightly of sweat and something pungent, like gun oil, but he also smelled clean. When I finally had myself composed enough to look up into his brown eyes, I took in the fact he was noticeably more presentable than I was, and his dark hair was cropped close to his scalp in a scrubby fashion.

  I had the strangest urge to run my fingers through it, pausing to linger at the faint hint of gray overtaking the temples. He had to be in his mid-to-late thirties, but I was suddenly wet between the legs, and I somehow kept myself from cuddling against him while arching my pelvis.

  Maybe I was starved for human contact, or it was because he was such an attractive man holding me so close, or it might even be a reaction to the violence I’d just endured. Whatever the explanation, I had the sudden impulse to jump on him.

  Instead, I forced myself to pull away, and his arms dropped quickly. I realized I was still standing there topless, and heat filled my cheeks. As though aware of what I was thinking, the soldier beside the one who’d lifted me up handed me a bra from the cart, and they all averted their eyes as I slipped it on, followed by a clean T-shirt. When I was dressed, I cleared my throat, and they looked at me again.

  All but the prostrate scumbag on the floor, who was kneeling on his knees with his forehead touching the cold tile. I scowled at him. “What do we do about him?”

  “There’s no justice system anymore,” said the one who’d held me, his voice deep and gravelly, making my stomach spasm with pleasure that shot farther down into my core. “What do you think we should do with him?”

  “Shoot him.” I should have been shocked by the words flowing from my mouth, but I wasn’t. They just felt right. If he’d prey on me, he’d target anyone else who crossed his path as well, either male or female. Anyone he could use to better himself or his situation would be fair game.

  I barely finished uttering the words before the one acting as his guard glanced at the one who’d held me, received a nod of permission, and fired his seriously scary-looking rifle. The rapist perv didn’t even have a chance to flinch or beg for mercy. He was just dead.

  I nodded my satisfaction and smiled at the one who’d given the order before smiling at the one who’d carried it out. “Thank you.”

  “What’s your name, honey?” asked the one who’d picked me up off the floor.

  “Alyssa Nolan.” I had the absurd urge to stick out my hand as a form of greeting, but I didn’t. I hadn’t yet reached the age group where that was the norm for meeting new people, and other than a few job interviews for shitty summer jobs I’d done in preparation to save for college, I hadn’t had many formal occasions where I needed to shake someone’s hand. Considering I’d rather fondle other bits of him, I decided it was safer to keep my hands to myself and just nodded at him.

  “I’m Captain Shane Morrison, and this is my group.” He pointed to the one standing farthest to my right, a young man a few years older than me, I estimated. “That’s Private Wesley Tate.” Next, he introduced the one standing between himself and Tate. “This is Corporal Maddox Tillman.” He nodded his head to the big black guy. “That’s Lieutenant Jamar Johnson.” He waved to the man who’d shot the attempted rapist. “And Sergeant Han Martinez.”

  My eyes widened, and I knew it was silly even as I asked, “Han? Like Han Solo?”

  He grinned at me, his approval clear in his brown eyes. “Bingo, Alyssa. My real name’s Alejandro, but I decided to go by Han after I saw the first set of movies as a kid.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “Which first set? The set that actually came first, or the set that came later, but wasn’t nearly as good?”

  He winced. “Episode four, baby. My folks started me right. None of the fake first trilogy until later on.”

  It was a surreal conversation, but the normality of it was soothing, and the last of my tremors had faded away. I was feeling a little awkward and suddenly shy
, though that wasn’t really like me. An inane question popped from my mouth. “Are you guys from around here?”

  Shane shook his head. “We’re from farther north and met up along the way from different units.”

  For the first time, I realized they wore diverse types of camouflage. I didn’t know anything about military, but assumed that meant they were from separate branches. Or something.

  “We’re trying to make it to an area where farming is better, and the locations are more secure. My squad was posted near the Canadian border, but I was the only one who survived the virus. Same story with the others. We banded together and thought Montana might be a good place. It’s supposed to be a preppers’ paradise, so we’re hoping to find a prepper’s setup that survived the Hell Virus.”

  I grinned. “That’s what you call it too? That’s what my sister and I always called it,” I added to clarify in light of his confused expression. “I guess the Hell Virus isn’t all that original, but it sort of felt like our own invention.” I was aware of the melancholy bleeding through my tone.

  “Is your sister still with you?” asked Jamar.

  I shook my head. “She was one of the first to receive the vaccine. Her boyfriend had known the local doctor coordinating the effort, and though she lost him in the first wave of Hell, she still knew the doctor well enough to sign up as a volunteer and be selected.”

  Han flinched. “That’s rough shit. Sorry, babe.”

  I tried not to take the endearment personally, or read anything into it. He struck me as the flirtatious type, and though I’d been solidly interested in the man who had picked me up off the floor, I now allowed my eyes to really evaluate the form of Alejandro Martinez. My mouth was watering in no time, and my panties were surely a sodden mess by now. I’d have to shed this new pair already and slip on a fresh pair.

  First, I’d probably indulge in a rousing round of masturbation. After having my libido turned off for months due to grief and just trying to survive, suddenly sex was all I could think about. And though that was normal, it certainly wasn’t typical of the person I’d been before all this. I couldn’t ever recall finding myself attracted to two men on the same day, within the same hour of meeting them, and wanting to fuck them both.

  Fuck. That was funny. I hadn’t ever fucked anyone. I’d had the opportunity, but not the interest. My neighbor-slash-ex-boyfriend would have been happy to fuck, but I hadn’t wanted to with him. It had seemed too soon, and I didn’t want to ruin something that should be special. Now, fuck special. I had a feeling if they whipped out their dicks and offered them, I’d be on my knees sucking in no time and thanking them for it. Who knew the apocalypse would turn me into such a wanton?

  I nodded, trying to hide my reaction. “I’m sure we’ve all lost people.” It was all I could say about it, still not able to talk about losing Becky, Jimmy, and my parents. I wasn’t sure I’d ever really want to talk about it. What good would talking do? It certainly wasn’t going to bring them back, and it just brought events back to me, making it that much harder to get through the day so I could cross off that box on my calendar.

  Trying to change the subject, I asked, “So you’re here on a supply run as you move through?”

  Shane hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be mulling over the situation before giving me an answer. “That’s not entirely accurate. We’ve commandeered a base, and we plan to stay here for the winter. We don’t want to get stuck eating each other in Montana if we can’t find a suitable place to hunker down and get a working farm in order before cold weather hits.”

  I grinned at him. “I could see where that is unappealing.” In all honesty, I wouldn’t mind eating them though…at least in a way. “I don’t know what base you’re talking about though. There aren’t any military bases in this part of the state.”

  Wesley came over to me, putting his arm around my shoulders like we were old friends. I would have minded, except it felt good to have his hand on my arm, his body pressed against mine. Damn, I was attracted to him too. I was the stereotypical hormonally driven teenage mess right then, going to pieces around some cute guys.

  Cute was hardly the word though. These were hardened soldiers, and while they were all attractive in different ways, none of them were what you’d call cute. More like dripping with hotness and masculinity. No wonder my panties were about to combust.

  “There are some bases the government hides, hon. They don’t want civvies to know all their secrets.”

  I was intrigued by the idea of an underground base, or whatever it was. I assumed it had to be underground, but maybe it was simply masquerading as something more mundane. I was trying to figure that out, wondering where it could be located.

  “Can I come with you?” The words escaped my mouth before I could call them back, and I waited for a wave of regret that never came.

  I’d known in my heart I was going to have to leave my home, probably sooner rather than later, and permanently, so if I had to, it was sensible to do so now in the company of soldiers who might be able to help me stay alive long enough to learn how to keep myself that way. I anxiously awaited an answer as I stared at the captain, who was clearly the one in charge, though I was certain any formal military organization had fallen apart months ago, along with the rest of the government.

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  About Aurelia

  Aurelia Skye is the pen name Kit Tunstall uses when writing science fiction romance. It’s simply a way to separate the myriad types of stories she writes so readers know what to expect with each “author.”

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