A Rose by Any Other Name

by Landra Graf

  “On the steps of city hall, he got overpowered. I couldn’t stop them.”

  The response had the man she’d relied on over the last few days looking a bit shaky. He ran his free hand through his hair and adjusted his grip on the automatic with the other. Shaking his head, he took slow paces toward the door, each step punctuated with a word. “I have to go. Find them. Check on them. I’ll be back soon.”

  She didn’t expect a formal good-bye since Jason seemed so out of it. The fact he hadn’t screamed or broken down was impressive enough, but distraction could be expected.

  Then he stopped, turned, and spoke again, a man willing to protect those he loved and push personal feelings aside to do the right thing. “It’ll be sundown in a few hours. I’m going to gather some more ammo and check on my parents. It’s my job to protect them.” The unsteady tone was now replaced with sheer determination, and he stood straight as if his words were for her alone and included a silent promise that he’d return.

  Emma’s face flushed at the memory of their kiss not more than twenty minutes or so before and wanted more. The flex of her father’s fingers on her shoulder made the naughty thoughts disappear along with a bloom of embarrassment. Way to keep it together.

  “Be careful,” she said, trying to be as strong in her statement as he’d been and hoping those two words and her somber tone told him she’d be waiting.

  The need and longing reflected in his deep blue eyes permeated her body, her will. No additional response given, he abruptly turned away, headed for the door. In that moment, her heart clenched, tight, hard, and hurting, in her chest. The dormant feelings she’d locked away years ago had broken free from their cage. If she didn’t see him again, if he didn’t survive, she’d lose everything.

  ***

  Jason ran to his car like the hounds of hell were chasing him down. A few faraway screams pierced the fabric of the idyllic afternoon. The sun shone bright, a breeze blew through the leafless trees, and the backdrop of country farm houses would’ve looked stunning in the fall. The inherent evil roaming through Charming permeated whatever sense of safety the town used to offer, leaving lifeless horror in its place—cars abandoned in the middle of the street, shattered windows, and random trash littering the area.

  Locked up tight, he began the ride across town, driving slow enough to take in everything around him. No one else was on the road, but just in case, twenty-five an hour seemed the safe bet. He caught some movement off to the left side of the street and pressed on the brakes. Rose was standing in her hospital gown, kneeling over what appeared to be Ewan from the bar. His legs twitched, his eyes filled with pain and his mouth open in a silent scream as if calling for help.

  Mesmerized and horrified, Jason watched his ex feast on the one person he’d viewed as competition for Em’s affection. Sure, he’d expected to have to prove himself worthy of the girl he wanted, but not by losing Ewan via cannibalistic devouring.

  He didn’t know what to do, how to react. Rose looked worse since yesterday, her gown covered in different shades of blood, some parts of her once light-blue wrap-around wet, others dry. Her ashen skin had sagged away from her bones. Her eyes had sunken into her skull, her hair a paler blonde than the vibrant color of sunshine it used to be. He slowly reached for the shotgun in the passenger seat. There would be no better time to take a shot. It’d kill a piece of him to shoot his first kiss; hell, his first everything. But for everyone’s sake, he’d make the necessary choice.

  Bang! The car jolted to the side. Something or someone had bashed into his car from the passenger side. A glance back at his quarry, and she’d risen to a full standing position, looking directly at him. Momentarily paralyzed, unable to react, he willed himself to pull the gun up to his shoulder as one of the back windows shattered.

  ***

  Emma sat in the living room, staring at her mother in the chair. The older woman’s head flopped back and forth, signaling her discomfort. Her dad disappeared into the kitchen to make drinks. Like iced tea makes everything better.

  Two hours had passed with no word from Jason. He said he’d be back. Sun nearly set, she feared the worst. No phone calls had come in from anyone, and conversations with Daddy, brought out the confession that he hadn’t talked to anyone since Mrs. Hopkins had inflicted her bite. Her mother and she were his biggest concern, leaving a lot up in the air as to whether the mayor and his wife were one of the diseased or calling in additional help from other towns.

  Another moan, more pained this time, came from the chair beside her, and Em watched her closely. She assumed the change would imitate death like it did with Rose before the final turn happened. But since her friend had been patient zero, she couldn’t be sure the illness hadn’t mutated as it spread. The biggest thing she’d embraced was the chance to say goodbye. Over the last hour, she’d told the woman who’d given birth to her that she loved her, kissed her forehead, and prayed silently for janitor Trudy to be dead wrong about everything.

  Her father entered the room with two perspiring glasses of tea. “Here’s something cold, sweetie. How’s she doing?”

  “Worse. Her breathing is getting a bit more labored and slower. I think the time is coming.” She took a glass from his outstretched hand.

  “I can’t believe this. All from Rose. And you’re saying Mrs. Wiggs predicted this ten years ago?”

  “Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.” She’d shared everything with her father. He was a historian and one of the smartest people she knew. Her silent prayers included him coming up with a solution. Instead, he’d resigned himself to bafflement and anxiousness about the moment when his wife turned into something neither one of them could kill.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?” He sat down next to her on the couch.

  “Why didn’t you call the mayor…or anyone else…after Mom got bitten?” Her dad’s behavior held some inconsistencies she’d yet to unravel, and he seemed to have abandoned his usual logical decision-making process completely.

  He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I didn’t believe anyone else remained unaffected. There were a lot of people at City Hall, including Rose, a couple of other deputies, and a few wandering zombies. By the time the zombie attack was over, we were all in trouble. I couldn’t help Jonathon without potentially getting bitten myself. Call me selfish, but you and your mother are all I have. My responsibility.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. To hear his selfish desires spoken aloud, to believe he had let the friends he’d known for years fall without his aid…. But those words reminded her of how much he loved them, her and her mom, without expectations.

  “Oh, Daddy.” She set her glass down and launched her arms around him in a hug.

  A growl sounded to her left, followed by a crash as the lamp next to her mother’s chair fell to the floor. Edy Fay stood, teeth bared, eyes red and feral, and hands spread into claws. A loud screech emerged from the creature’s lips, and she launched toward Emma.

  Before she could react, her father pushed her off the couch and to the floor. He jumped up and engaged the snarling form of his wife, shoving her backward. “Em, get out of here. Now!” he bellowed.

  The warning didn’t register, and she got up, searching wildly for the gun she’d placed beside her minutes before. Running her hands along the sides of the couch through the blankets, she found nothing, all the while sounds of snapping teeth and her father’s painful exclamations filling the room. She dreaded standing up or turning around without the gun in her hands. Finally, she spotted a small gleam of metal under the couch, next to where she’d landed. Grabbing the gun, she popped up into a standing position. Safety off, she turned to face the struggling forms of her parents, locked together, one attempting to kill and the other merely trying to stay alive.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Emma squished her eyes shut as the shots rang out in the room. Her finger never touched the trigger of the gun. She opened her eyes to her fathe
r with his head in his hands, her mother lifeless on the ground, and Jason, a smoking shotgun still in position against his shoulder. Relief flooded her body at the sight of her personal knight at her side. Her arms fell limp as she moved toward him, the gun clattering against the carpeted floor. She didn’t care about anything for the moment except touching him in an effort to remind herself of life.

  He lowered the gun and drew her in close. “I’m sorry, Em. So damn sorry.”

  The words of forgiveness failed to come out of her mouth, but in her heart, he already had it. He was the one person who held the courage to do the very thing she wasn’t capable of. She breathed in the scent of him, a scent akin to wellbeing. Then the sound of a gun cocking extinguished any amount of shelter left in the room.

  ***

  On high alert, Jason raised his head, a sense of panic in his gut, the red alert status fairly familiar now, especially after the last two hours, but he never expected the sight in front of him.

  “Herb, put the gun down. Everything is fine.” Jason tried to keep his voice calm when calm didn’t even have a place at his emotional table. Emma’s dad was pointing the handgun she’d ditched around the room at them like they’d all joined in on a bizarre game of eenie meenie miney mo.

  “No. Everything. Is. Not. Fine,” Herb cried out.

  The man’s hands shook something fierce, and his braver-than-hell daughter stood frozen in shock, jaw gaping. Releasing Emma to attempt to wrestle the gun might result in getting all of them hurt, so Jason decided to continue the verbal approach.

  “I know losing Edy is difficult, but that creature…. She wasn’t the woman you loved.” He squeezed Em tight against him, relishing her warmth and praying for a good way for this to end. “But this girl next to me? This one’s still here, and I know you love her, too. So would you mind lowering the gun?”

  Herb chuckled, the tone reminding Jason of someone pushed beyond their mental capacity. “You’re right, but do I love her enough to end this personal hell? She bit me. My own wife bit me, and now I’ll become like her in a matter of hours. I can’t live like that.”

  Shit, the man’s declaration sounded like he wanted to kill them all in some savior-suicide attempt. No way in hell he’d let Em go this way. So he moved her behind him, stepping in front to take any bullets launched in their path.

  “Emma, I love you. Take care of my girl, Prince.” Her father’s words were followed by the scrape of teeth against metal and a loud clang as the gun went off in his mouth.

  Jason turned abruptly, gathering his girl against him in an attempt to shield her eyes from the worst of it. Then, without looking back at the carnage, he started maneuvering her toward the front door.

  Emma dragged her feet and went dead weight on him once they reached the living room entrance. He refused to give up. Her parents were lost to the madness of the situation, but losing her failed to register as an option. As she began to sob, her fists beating against his chest, he picked her up, swinging her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and walked out of the house.

  “I won’t let you leave me, too, Em. I won’t let you.”

  Chapter Eight

  But the moment he kissed her, she opened her eyes and awoke and smiled upon him.

  “You know, statistics show the majority of people die from cardiovascular issues or malignant tumors, so I could’ve expected a heart attack or heart disease to be the silent killer,” Emma said as she sat down on the couch in Rose’s living room.

  Jason seemed to ignore her statement altogether except for his raised eyebrow as he hammered in the last two nails to secure a big piece of wood over the window. The rest of the house already locked up tight, windows covered, doors sealed, the living room window was the last piece of the puzzle.

  Now they needed…to do something; exactly what still required discussion and planning. The realization that they were probably the only humans remaining within a hundred miles didn’t boost the hope meter at all.

  Since Emma had left her parents’ house, a numbness had sunk into every fiber of her being, the past few hours of her life replaying over and over in her mind…. Her father’s last words, the sound of the gun trigger, the hammer striking, hearing more than seeing her father blow his own brains out—

  “Statistics are fine for normal situations, but I can definitely say I hope neither one of those things takes me out,” he replied, the last tap of his hammer echoing off the walls.

  Such a bold statement when those options sound a hell of a lot nicer. “Oh, so you’d prefer to be eaten by zombies and transformed?”

  His eyes fired up at the question. “No. I’d rather die in my sleep of old age, holding the woman I love one last time. Now I’m getting you a drink.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “Too bad,” he said, walking toward the kitchen, “because you’re having one.”

  “You can’t make—”She cut off, realizing the banter lightened the apocalyptic doom, the pain. Everyone in town was a flesh eating zombie or dead, and she’d been ready to have a tantrum.

  “Here.” He shoved a glass tumbler in her hand.

  She raised her eyebrows at the brown liquid sloshing back and forth. “What’s this?”

  “Indian fire water, woman. Just shoot it. Don’t sip.”

  She went to tilt her glass back, watching as he shot his, and gave a quick shake of his head afterward. No one ever considered her the experimental one, not even herself, but she didn’t want to back down now. A quick chug, and her throat lit up on fire.

  “Holy—”A string of coughs emerged next, and he patted her on the back.

  “Never did that before, huh?”

  She coughed a few more times. “What?”

  “Shot whiskey.”

  “I don’t ever want to again. That tasted nasty!”

  He laughed. “Well, it’s not lemonade.”

  “I know that, but when you see the guys in the movies, they act like it’s nothing to fire away a shot or ten.”

  “Hollywood lies,” he said, laughing again. She couldn’t help but join in the laughter, realizing how much their lives were like an insane movie at the moment. He plopped onto the couch next to her, and their eyes met.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Except two sips of iced tea and the whiskey shot, I’m on empty.”

  He reached behind the couch. “Good thing I brought provisions.”

  A bag of chips and a bottle of water landed in her lap. “Sour cream and cheddar rippled. How’d you know?”

  “I remembered.” He shook his head in amusement as she ripped into the bag. “You and Rose would send me on the munchies run whenever we had board game night.”

  She could only nod in agreement with a mouth full of chips, but each hour seemed to reveal another side of him she’d taken for granted in the past. He knew her, took care of her, and appreciated the little things. A decent gulp of water washed away the chips and lingering whiskey taste.

  “You’re the best as always.” Leaning forward, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  But it wasn’t enough, not for her. This could be it, the only chance to be with him, what with the end of the world and all. Sitting silent, even for a few seconds, brought on the visual of her mother dead, and her father giving up; Jason didn’t give up, though. He wouldn’t. She scooted closer and kissed his lips. Those lips were soft, pliable, and the feelings she’d experienced earlier came back full force. She took the initiative this time, tracing the seam of his lips with her tongue while silently willing him to open to her. He did, and the taste of whiskey and spice hit her hard. He groaned when she sucked on his tongue. The power behind the sound was a heady experience.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tugged. He followed willingly as she leaned back on the couch. His hands weren’t moving, limp at her sides, as if he refused to give in completely to the moment. No way did he get to back out now.

  “What’s wr
ong?” The questions came out on a pant as she pulled away. Damn, she’d never wanted something this bad before.

  “We don’t have to do this. We can wait.” His words said one thing, but the bulging erection against her leg told another story. He wanted her and still tried to play the gentleman.

  She ran her palms up his arms and across his chest, exerting barely any pressure and getting a good feel of every muscle. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

  “You’ve lost your closest friend; now your parents. I want this…us to be more than a way to forget.”

  “This isn’t about forgetting. This is about living dreams.” To emphasize her point, she found his pebbled nipple and tweaked it.

  Actions always did speak louder than words, and the look of shock on his face made her grin. “I’ve wanted this a long time. I need—”

  Her words were cut off as his lips came crashing into hers, the intensity of his kiss bigger than the previous ones and the joining escalated quickly. Shirts peeled away, pants were shucked, and a two second maneuver with his fingers sent her bra flying across the room. Hands roved, and hot kisses pressed against her neck, shoulders, and lower. He blew a hot breath against her chilled flesh, the spring evening not providing any warmth to her naked body. As he finally made his way to feast on her breasts, he stopped.

  She opened her eyes, afraid of what she’d find, but instead of regret, Jason looked her up and down with the ferocity of animal-man desperate to be satiated. “I’m so close to rushing this.”

  How she wanted to rush, to have him pound inside her as they chased oblivion. Instead, she willed her mind to be quiet and allow whatever he planned to happen as he wished. Then he touched her, fingertips mapping the same route his mouth had taken moments before. He pinched each nipple between his index finger and thumb, causing her to moan and arch upward.

  “I love how sensitive you are. It fits.”