by SP Durnin
“You’re doomed!”
Jake could barely hear his best friend over the cheering of the crowd and Al was yelling nearly in his ear.
“You are totally doomed, man!”
Bee was off her stool, gyrating to the music. “If he starts running now he might get away, but I doubt it! She’s got your number, buddy! And she knows exactly where you sleep every night, too!”
Dead Sexy finished and the crowd was cheering at the tops of their lungs as Jackson took the mic again.
“More?” He asked with a smile.
The cheers continued.
They moved on to a rocked-out version of Fire, where Kat proved she could be just as sultry as the next woman and not just an undead-slaying looney. Concrete Blonde’s Everybody Knows was next, nearly bringing the room to tears en masse. Finally, they rocked out I Hate Myself For Lovin’ You, by one of Kat’s idols, Joan Jett.
When they finished up, the crowd began clapping to the chant: Cho! Cho! Cho! Cho! Cho! Cho! Cho! Until Jackson waved them down a bit.
“All right! We’ll have the Apocalyptic Assassin here back very, very soon, but we don’t wanna wear her out all at once! Believe it or not, this was her debut performance! That’s right! This is the first time ever she’s been on a stage! So let hear it people! Give up some love!” Ted took Cho’s wrist and raised her hand like a referee would the winner of a prizefight and, with a beaming smile, she bowed to the bar.
The cheers were deafening.
“Fuck me! She’s amazing!” Maggie yelled.
The muscular blonde woman had Allan by the shoulders and was shaking him bodily, but that didn’t stop him from putting a pair of fingers in his mouth to give a shrill whistle for their friend. “Hell yes, she was! You didn’t tell me Kat could sing!”
“We didn’t know!” Gertrude was clapping franticly with the rest of the bar. “Laurel used to pull her guitar out all the time at night and sing, and she was quite good! But Kat would only just hum along!”
Allan was cheering for all he was worth. “I’ve never heard her do anything even close to what she just… Holy Shit!”
Foster had swiped a lighter from the next table and was holding it flaming high. “Damn, that girl never ceases ta’ impress me. What a set a’ pipes!”
“I think I just had a rock-gasm!” His niece screamed. Bee was jumping in place, which sent her green ponytails—and somewhat impressive female attributes—bouncing. “Ted has to have her sit in again! Hell, she should join Dead Sexy! That! Was! So! Awesome!”
Maggie stopped giving Al whiplash suddenly. “Hey! Where’s Jake?”
“What?” Ryker turned to find his friend’s barstool empty.
Gertie looked about. “Did anybody see him get up?”
Bee shook her head. “He was just here. I mean, he was just here!”
“Those are his smokes.” Maggie pointed at the weathered box of American Spirits lying on the table and looked around. “His beer there is still half-full. What, did he go to take a leak?”
George leaned forward to put his elbows on their table with a smile. “You kids... How any of ya’ survived our trip so far I’ll never know. An’ Gertie? I expected better from you at least. Completely unobservant, the bunch a’ ya’.”
The grizzled fixer pointed with sausage-thick finger and the others turned to follow his gesture. After a few moments, they caught sight of O’Connor moving through the still-applauding mass of survivors towards the stage.
Kat bowed again, geisha-style. Her throat kind of hurt from all the singing, and she now understood why —like many musicians—Laurel had always kept a drink with her on stage. Her heart was beating pretty fast because the ol’ adrenaline had kicked in right about the end of her first song, and she was a little out of breath. It was getting way excessively warm as well. So much so, that she felt the need to get offstage. The temperature in a bar full of people, combined with the bright lights for the band and bopping around while she’d done her thing, was causing her to really sweat. She was positive doing so was turning her hair into a messy wreck, too. She could feel it on her face and neck which was no big deal, but it was also starting to form wherever she was showing skin. All over her chest and breastbone, down along the lines of her stomach, even between (and on) her boobs, which would shortly cause her kimono to stick to her like a second skin.
Not good. Kat thought, turning for the back and the nirvana promised at the thought of the ladies’ room. Darn. Knew I should’ve worn a bra. Better make tracks and fix the damage before—
She came to a dead stop, because Jake was standing at the front of the crowd, about ten feet from the stage.
Cho couldn’t read his expression, and felt a raging case of the butterflies begin suddenly in her gut. She couldn’t hear the cheers coming from all around, didn’t see the patrons clapping wildly for her and the band, couldn’t feel the sheen of silk that molded to her form like she’d just been in a wet t-shirt contest. All she could see was him. And he didn’t look like he’d really gotten into her performance. Jake just stood there staring at her calmly and it kind of freaked her out.
Tilting her head to one side and eyebrows going towards the track lights, Kat shrugged as if to ask, Okay? What did you think?
Unable to retain a stoic visage any longer, O’Connor broke into a huge grin broke. He raised both arms and threw up a double rock-hand of his own as he cheered for her. “Ye-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-a-a-a-ah!”
Her relief was a palatable thing as she leaned over towards Jackson. He moved aside so she could momentarily speak into the microphone and, still looking at Jake, she asked, “So…I rocked?”
“You so totally fucking rock!” Jake’s bellow prompted another wild swell in applause from the crowd.
Kat actually squeed and bounced up and down, clapping her hands together like a little girl. Then in front of all gathered, she did her “Happy Dance” right there to the amusement of Ted and Dead Sexy, which caused another round of emphatic cheering.
Coming to her senses, the ninja-girl took a pair of quick steps to build momentum and leapt from the stage. She nearly floated through the gap, easily crossing the empty space that lay between them as if gravity were nothing more than a sometimes-inconvenient afterthought. That gave Jake a pair of heartbeats to set himself, so he caught her mid-air by wrapping his forearms under her buttocks and locking his hands around his own wrists. Kat threw her arms around his neck, and showered his lips and face with happy kisses to the approval of the crowd as he spun them around.
Jackson and Dead Sexy took up their instruments again and the still cheering bar-goers, while still impressed by Cho’s performance, began breaking off their applause and pairing up as they started to play. Soon Kat and O’Connor were surrounded by not a few couples on the small dance floor, all swaying companionably to, The Search is Over.
“That’s so much fun!” Kat was still laughing.
“You were utterly amazing.” Jake let her slide down until her boots were on the floor, but kept his hands locked around the pretty Asian’s waist. “Jesus! You’ve been holding out on me all this time? You should’ve been fronting your own group before the apocalypse, not working in a Super-center pharmacy!”
“Ted and the others already want me to sing again! They asked if I would when we practiced today.”
Jake snorted. “Guess I don’t have to ask why you bailed on looting duty this morning now. How long have you been working on this?”
Cho settled in his arms. “The term is salvage, gaijin. Looting implies there’s someone left alive to take the stuff from. We’ve discussed this before. And I just got together with the band earlier today.”
“Today?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I did a couple songs just with Ted last week so he could hear me sing, but we’ve all been super-busy with supply runs and all. Ted runs Pecos security, and the other band members are all on different teams, so it was tough for everyone to be off duty at the same time.” Kat glanced about quickly. “It wasn�
�t too bad, was it? I was worried I’d sound like George, you know? Like a pit-bull gargling gravel?”
Jake shook his head to clear it. “Let me get this straight: You only practiced with the band one time this morning, then you got on stage with them on the same night, then proceeded to kick so much ass that you very well could be nominated for Rock Goddess status…and you’re asking me if people enjoyed it? Woman, are you nuts? Look around! Do you hear anybody complaining?”
“Well, no.”
“Damn straight!” Jake confirmed. “Hell, I’d be shocked if you didn’t have your own fan club by morning, complete with official headbands. And Ted might be a little miffed in a few days. I’ll bet you a million dollars that I don’t have, that we’ll start seeing Kamikaze flags spray-painted all over walls in this town. God help us, it’s going to be like living in the 80s…”
Laughing heartily, Cho reached up with one hand and took off her headband. She pulled a face because it was covered in sweat, but stuck it in one of the back pockets of her leather pants anyway. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Think about trying to fight zombies with a ton of Aqua Net in your hair to keep it all poofy.”
“Point taken. That’d be a horror show, for sure.” Kat stretched against him and tightened her arms, drawing Jake closer. “Some worthwhile tunes came out of the Reagan Years though.”
He moved his hands down her spine to the small of her back, enjoying the play of slim muscles he felt there. “That’s debatable. I don’t know if I’m ready to kill ghouls with Pet Shop Boys blaring in the background. Your performance aside, I think I’ll stick with Yellowcard, Henry Rollins, Disturbed… Maybe a little Iron Maiden thrown in for some variety once in a while.”
“Dear Lord. My boyfriend is a metal-head. Cute, but an unrepentant metal-head.”
He feigned offense. “Hey! I listen to other stuff too! Lorena McKinnet, Shakespeare’s Sister… Speaking of great female vocalists, you did Warrior serious justice. Patty Smyth would be proud.”
“Please: I did okay, but there’s only one Patty Smyth. People say she was really disappointed with the music video for that song back when it aired, but I freaking adored it. Bad-ass ninja-babe and a bunch of monsters? Sound familiar much? And it was kind of the first really post-apocalyptic-themed interpretive dance pieces. Way ahead of its time. God, I so hope she’s not a zombie now…”
“I’ll give you that one, but I’m not sure about the overall superiority of 80s pop music.”
Kat pouted fetchingly. “You realize by saying that, you’re pooping all over our song, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ve never danced together before. This is our first one.”
He frowned and thought back. “Oh. I guess you’re right.”
“That’s such a great phrase. Say it again.”
Jake rolled his eyes and gave up. “Okay, you win. I’ll just have to learn to appreciate rock ballads and listening to Survivor a lot, if it makes you happy.”
“See there? Now we’re talking.” Kat moved against him. “Let’s continue with that topic, yes? The whole ‘making me happy’ part, I mean.”
There was laughter in her eyes. “Any thoughts on it?” He asked.
“Mmmm-maybe.” She wiggled her hips a little more tightly against Jake’s and saw his nostrils flare. “Just so you know, I’ve been considering that very subject quite a bit tonight already. I’m reasonably certain there’s just gobs and gobs of possible outcomes, depending on what process you use trying to generate results. How much time do you have to discuss it?”
“I love it when you get all brainy. It’s hot. And, seeing how civilization pretty much came to an end a while back, I’ve got nothing but time. How much do you want?”
Cho took a handful of hair at the back of his head and pulled him down until their mouths brushed together when she whispered. “A lot.”
“You’re in luck, because I think that’s doable. Good thing I had my Wheaties MRE this morning.”
With a feral smile, Kat slammed their lips together and tried to pull O’Connor’s soul out with her tongue. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he went so far as to encourage the attempt by wrapping an arm around her back, and using his other to slide one hand over her left flank. Being concentrated on the kiss, she only noticed his hand distantly. Right up until Jake cupped her buttock firmly and yanked them together, nearly lifting her boots from the floor in the process.
Kat’s eyeballs bugged and she let a surprised yip loose into his mouth before slowly melting against his body again. Since she was already nearly airborne, she curled first her left leg, and then her right up behind Jake’s hips, climbing up him much like one would a tree with no branches. At that point she locked her ankles together, twined her arms as far over Jake’s shoulders as she could reach, took a double fist-full of his battered CBGBs shirt, and shut the world away.
* * *
Gertrude, Allan, Maggie, Bee, and George watched on from their table as the band played and their friends became lost in one-another.
“I think we need more drinks,” Gertie said, uncharacteristically dabbing at her eyes with the small, frilly handkerchief she pulled from her pocket.
“Ain’t that a sight?” Foster took a healthy swig of his beer and reached for the pitcher to refill. “Gotta say, I’ll always miss Red. Laurel was a hell of a’ girl. But Kat an’ that boy deserve each other.”
His niece was smiling wide enough to nearly give herself a “flip-top head.” “Since when did you become such a romantic?”
George just sniffed and pulled out a stogie. “Didn’t you know? Us Cold War spy-types are all about ‘the feels.’ Why ya’ think we all wanted to be Bond? Fleming sure didn’t come up with that part of the spy game on his own, I don’t care what you’ve heard. Still owed me for savin’ his ass back in ’58 when he died too, the dirty shit…”
-CHAPTER EIGHT-
“I c-can’t… can’t… nnnGHHH!!”
Cho’s shoulder-blades rose nearly high enough to push against the ceiling of the Mimi’s sleeping pod. She fought to remain in place astride Jake, and he heard her knuckles pop as she yanked at the too-thin, military-issue pad under his back.
The pair of them had left the bar just as Dead Sexy began to go full-swing, choosing instead to take advantage of some private celebration time in Foster’s ugly, pink transport. After O’Connor sealed the rear hatch, Kat had virtually attacked him. She’d torn at his clothes when he didn’t remove them fast enough for her liking, and he felt very little shame in admitting he’d done virtually the same to her kimono. The pretty blue-haired woman had always been able to set his pulse pounding, but since their night together at the abandoned cabin he’d though of little else save her. Jake assumed the fact he and Kat had been close for some time—and actually liked one another prior to becoming intimate—might very well explain his unreasoning hunger for her.
That, and because the woman currently hunched over him in pleasure was hotter than a stolen, candy-apple red Lamborghini.
For her part, at that moment Cho wasn’t pondering any of the reasons she’d spent months pining for Jake. She wasn’t musing over a single one of his worthwhile attributes, or even contemplating how his personality fit so well with hers.
Nope.
She was just trying to remember her own goddamn name.
While still struggling hurriedly out of their clothing, Kat’s intention had been to shove O’Connor against the Mimi’s bulkhead and work on him until he pleaded for mercy. She wouldn’t have shown him any of course, but that was beside the point.
Her excellent plan went right out the window because—once they’d shed their inhibiting garments and weaponry—Jake had lifted her from her feet, spun around, and sat her squarely on one of the storage bins before she could have her wicked way with him. He’d then used one hand to push her backwards until she lay prone against the container’s top, pulled Kat’s left thigh over his r
ight shoulder, and put his mouth to use down the lines of her body. When he’d nipped at the skin between the hollow of her hip and slim waist, it was all she could do not to squirm from the container with pleasure. Then he’d moved lower yet, sending his tongue over, then into…
All Cho could do next was shut her eyes, grab a double-handful of his hair, and struggle not to break his neck with her thighs. Later, she was quite thankful the Mimi was virtually soundproof. He’d caused the planet to move beneath her, and she hadn’t cared—or even noticed—when cries she couldn’t hold back any longer echoed through the vehicle’s interior.
Then he’d done it again.
And again.
Soon thereafter, Kat realized if she didn’t take action in short order she’d end up a shuddering lump of very happy but boneless goo on the container. That wouldn’t have done at all. She’d had some plans of her own in store for a particular, crowbar-toting ex-writer. So she’s used O’Connor’s hair to pull him up away from her, managed to stand without her knees buckling, taken him in a Come-Along grip, and dragged him bodily into one of the sleeping pods.
That had been nearly an hour prior.
Now, Jake watched her face exhibit a slew of emotions from just inches away. Joy as she hovered above him, defeat as she lost the fight against her own body, anger at its victory over her, then finally willing surrender. His hands had been glued to the skin of her waist as they’d moved together, but now he slid them lower to grip the peaks of Kat’s hips, pulling her down against him another fraction of an inch. She quivered, then with a cry that had nothing at all to do with physical discomfort collapsed onto his chest.
“Hey there, beautiful. You all right?” His hands moved up to stroke her back.