Strain

by Amelia C. Gormley

  Maybe they wouldn’t be late if the Jugs could have kept their dicks to themselves that morning.

  He didn’t bother to say that as he rose from his cot to begin stuffing his clothes into the rucksack they had scavenged for him.

  “Let me ask you something, kid.” Rhys winced at her emphasis. “What makes you think a single one of us gives a shit?”

  Rhys flushed, his chin touching his collarbone as his shoulders crept up self-consciously.

  “Get over yourself.” Derision gave Xolani’s advice a biting edge. “So you’re getting fucked. You’re taking it up the ass like a big nelly fag. Think any one of our people here is gonna take out a front-page ad to trumpet the news to the world? Think they don’t fuck every chance they get? Think there’s not one of them—even the straight dudes—who wouldn’t drop to their knees and blow an entire battalion if it meant a chance at survival? People are dying faster than they’re being born, kid, and we’re all fucked.”

  Rhys stared at her in shock, his mouth working wordlessly. His eyes stung, betrayed by her harsh words after the comfort and kindness she’d seemed to offer him before. It felt awful that she wasn’t even angry, just unflinchingly honest. Or worse, disappointed.

  “I tell you what they will care about.” Her voice softened, her eyes becoming gentle. “You feeling sorry for yourself. No one has time for that. They’ll respect you doing what you have to do to live, because every one of them is doing the same. But they won’t respect moping and self-pity.”

  “I don’t mope.” Rhys drew his chin up, his jaw tightening. Seven years of dealing with Jacob and Father Maurice and she thought he was going to mope over this? “I’ve put up with worse, and I didn’t feel sorry for myself then, either. I just want some time alone so I can feel like a person again and not some . . . Whatever.”

  Xolani’s eyes flicked toward the door and the hallway beyond where she’d saved him from Jacob the other morning, and her mouth tightened. “Yeah, I can see you may have had some hard times. I imagine you just keep things to yourself a lot. But now wouldn’t be a good time to start pitying yourself. Like I said, any guy here would do the same thing you’re doing in your situation.”

  He couldn’t let himself cry in front of her, though confusion and the crushing weight of his shame made his hands shake as he zipped the bag shut. He had to clear his tight throat twice before speaking. “Yeah, but they wouldn’t . . .”

  “Wouldn’t what?”

  He forced the reluctant whisper from his throat. “Wouldn’t want it.”

  “Oh.” Now it was Xolani’s turn to look bewildered, and possibly a little embarrassed. “Wait. You mean, this isn’t because they’re men?”

  “No!” Rhys turned his back with a groan of frustration at having to explain. He punched his rucksack and flung himself down on his bed, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t want them, and they don’t want me.”

  Xolani’s eyebrows crept up. “Um, given the mechanics involved in the situation, I’m pretty certain that’s not the case, or it wouldn’t work.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, they’re getting it up for you, aren’t they? So where is this coming from?”

  Rhys flushed miserably. “That’s not what I mean. They’re only doing it because they have to, or maybe they just feel sorry for me, and I don’t have a choice. They’re going to do what they want with me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Which makes it all wrong, and I shouldn’t . . . enjoy it.”

  “You’re upset because you liked it?” Xolani sounded befuddled.

  “Not . . . not all the time.”

  No, definitely not all the time. With Bailey and Kaleo and the handful of others, Rhys just felt miserable. But those first couple times with Darius . . . Rhys shuddered with the memory of arousal and a fresh surge of accompanying shame. With Darius, it hadn’t mattered why they were doing what they were doing. He’d been so turned on, and he’d come so hard. God.

  But he couldn’t tell her that. He didn’t have the words. He couldn’t explain how Darius had told him that someday it would feel good and how that promise kept replaying in Rhys’s head, not with dread but with a terrible arousal. Couldn’t explain how good it had been that first time with Darius, after the burning ache had passed. He’d heard his own yells and knew everyone else must have been able to hear them, too, so they all knew how much he loved it.

  And despite himself, despite everything he knew was right or decent, he was waiting for Darius to make good on his promise, but Darius had all but disappeared. And it was wrong that he could want something as twisted as the pleasure Darius had told him he’d feel someday, especially since Darius didn’t give two shits about him, as evidenced by the fact that he hadn’t come near Rhys since that second night.

  He shouldn’t have liked what Darius had done. He shouldn’t want Darius, or want more of what Darius had done to him. He shouldn’t have come so easily the moment Darius put his rough hands on him. He shouldn’t have spent every minute afterward hoping it would happen again.

  He shouldn’t feel so hurt and abandoned that Darius had fucked Jacob and refused to even look at him anymore. Like he’d just been used and thrown aside.

  Xolani was still staring at him, waiting for him to explain.

  “Yeah, I guess. Kinda.” He gave up. Xolani was nice when she didn’t think he was being an idiot, but he couldn’t make her understand—he’d probably just make more of a fool of himself trying.

  “What feels good, feels good.” She ran her silver-shot braid through her hand. “Hell, if you can actually get some enjoyment out of all this, do it. Virtue out of necessity and all that.”

  “I guess,” Rhys repeated with a grimace. “Well. At least I don’t have to do it anymore, now that we’ll be on the road and there won’t be any privacy.”

  Her head tipped back, and she groaned. “Oh, Rhys. Is that the idea you’ve got?”

  “That’s what . . . The guys this morning . . . They said once we were on the march . . .” Despair started to squeeze his lungs at the idea that his ordeal wasn’t over yet.

  “No.” Xolani’s gaze was kind but unyielding. “They won’t be able to fuck you anytime they want, the way they have the past couple days, but when we make camp at night, you’re still going to need to have partners. As for privacy, we’re hoofing it south to Salem. We’re all gonna be on the road together for weeks. There are plenty of abandoned buildings to sleep in, but on a first sweep, the protocol is that we all camp in a single space where we can’t be cut off from each other if there’s an attack. No separate rooms. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Rhys’s stomach dropped.

  Xolani sighed and pushed herself away from the dresser. “No one cares. Keep your head down, do what you have to do, hold the bitching to a minimum, you’ll be just fine.”

  Jacob cared. Jacob would never let him hear the end of it. Jacob would probably manage to get out of having to do it, somehow. And even if he didn’t, Rhys had learned long ago that the same standards didn’t apply to Jacob and him. Rhys would be held at fault for things Jacob could get away with easily, and Jacob would have no problems making Rhys miserable for doing something Jacob himself was doing as well.

  If he had to do it publicly, in front of Jacob, he’d rather choose death.

  Xolani patted his shoulder on her way to the door. “It’s not that bad, you know. Actually it can be kind of fun. Kinky, to do it where you know everyone can see and hear.” She met his surprised look with a smile. “What? You think Hurricane Titus has never set upon my shores in the middle of camp?”

  If Rhys had hoped for any sort of acknowledgment from Darius as the company left the monastery behind, taking with them anything they could carry by way of supplies and provisions, he was disappointed. The only thing Darius bothered to say to Rhys was to ask if he could use a gun with any proficiency. When Rhys admitted Xolani and Titus had been teaching him how to work one but he hadn’t actually fired it ye
t, Darius ordered him to stay in the middle of the group, where the people with the weapons could protect him in the event of a fight.

  He began to understand just why Darius was in charge as he stood back and watched him oversee the decampment. He gave orders with easy, sure authority, and people obeyed them without hesitation. At his command, the squad departed the monastery on foot, except for Titus and a man Xolani had introduced as Jamie, who went zipping away on strangely quiet motorcycles with an array of weapons strapped to their bodies, from pistols and knives stuck in their boots to assault rifles slung across their backs.

  Even in their company, it took everything Rhys had not to freeze when the moment came to walk past the rusted-out gates for the first time in seven years. Leaving the monastery had been forbidden after they’d arrived. Father Maurice had said anyone who left wouldn’t be permitted back, for fear they might have been exposed and infect the others. In fact, the gates had been chained and padlocked after Gabe left and his parents went to find him, and they had remained that way until this last year when rust and damage from the last earthquake had caused one of the gates to snap off its hinge. That was how the revs had been able to get in.

  Terror and elation mingled as those gates fell behind and the whole world opened up in front of him. Outside the walls that had kept him both safe and captive since he was twelve, Rhys felt like maybe there was finally enough room to stretch, enough air to breathe. Like maybe there was a place for him in the world that wasn’t dependent on Father Maurice’s and Jacob’s begrudging graces or kept by virtue of making himself as small a target as possible.

  But there was danger out here, too. No vast packs of revenants came swarming at them the moment they started down the road, but it took Rhys a significant portion of that first day to relax and accept that fact.

  After a while, Rhys realized the squad was in formation around him, keeping him protected on all sides. Even at their cautious, attentive pace, it was hard to keep up with them. Before long, he was panting and sweating, and they weren’t even winded.

  Jacob seemed determined to win the Jugs over, which was both worrying and a relief. Worrying because Rhys knew all too well how bad Jacob could get when he had others on his side and Rhys had no one on his, but a relief because with Jugs surrounding them on every side, Jacob had to refrain from his usual active taunts and petty torments. Whenever Rhys caught a glimpse of him, though, Jacob looked positively triumphant. He was probably congratulating himself that he’d managed to lure away Darius—who had seemed like he might become a possible ally to Rhys—and now in private, he could start telling Darius any tales he wanted about Rhys, turning the Jugs against him.

  Refusing to think about what that might mean for him, Rhys watched as Jacob jogged to catch up to Gina when they were on the road again after stopping for a brief lunch. He gave her an ingratiating smile. “Excuse me, ma’am. Can I ask why you aren’t taking us back to Fort Vancouver?”

  “Don’t have time to spare.” She didn’t even look at him, which Rhys imagined must’ve been a blow. Jacob was well aware of his own good looks, and he’d been trying to get Gina’s attention for a couple of days. “You’re infected anyway. No need to get you into quarantine.”

  “Of course, ma’am, but we wouldn’t want to be in your way.” Jacob’s attempt at a charming smile seemed stilted, and Rhys knew all too well what his real concern was. Jacob was never one to risk his own safety. “Unarmed and untrained, won’t we slow you down?”

  Rhys bit his tongue against the impulse to call Jacob out on his cowardice. No sense looking like he was trying to make trouble, or give Jacob reason to threaten him again.

  But from Gina’s flat look, she wasn’t buying it anyway. “You’ll slow us down more if we have to divert to drop you off at base.”

  Jacob appeared on the verge of issuing another argument, and Gina’s eyes narrowed. So instead, he smiled again and bowed his head, falling back. “Of course, ma’am.”

  Rhys studied the ground until his lips stopped twitching. He looked up when Titus fell into step beside him and chucked a thumb over his shoulder. “Kaleo, take the rear guard.”

  Kaleo nodded and fell back as Rhys looked at Titus expectantly. He had noticed Titus at lunch handing his motorcycle off to a red-haired guy named Toby and wondered why he’d done that.

  “You got a problem with not going to Vancouver, too?”

  “Nah.” Rhys shook his head, refusing to say anything about his distress this morning once he had found out what going to Salem with the Jugs would mean. “Xolani told me to keep my head down. Seems if you’re making exceptions and changing plans on my account, it’s harder to do that.”

  Titus grunted his approval. “Good man.” He fell silent, walking alongside Rhys, and when Rhys glanced at him, his jaw flexed as if he were chewing on his thoughts.

  “You know, I’m not the comforting sort, but Xolani thinks it’s not a bad idea for you to have someone to talk to who isn’t trying to get into your pants. I figure I agree.”

  “Thanks.” Rhys’s shoulders twitched awkwardly, and he looked at his feet, kicking up dust that had drifted across the crumbling asphalt. “Not sure I really want to talk about anything with anyone though. No offense.”

  “None taken. But here’s what you need to get, Cooper. Xolani really wants to make this work. We’re invested in you now. We all want you to be part of the team, even Darius, or he wouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place. So you’re going to need to deal with this, whatever it takes. Got it?”

  Rhys looked over his shoulder at Jacob, always on the alert for whether he was lingering somewhere nearby, waiting to pounce on Rhys. But Jacob was schmoozing a huge guy Rhys often saw in Toby’s company. Joe, he thought the man’s name was. One of the few who hadn’t approached him for sex.

  Rhys dragged his attention back to Titus. Keep his head down. Right. “Got it. I’ll try.” With a sigh, he sought another subject. “What’s Bravo Company? Xolani mentioned them the other night.”

  Titus made a grumbling sound. “Another company of Jugs. Bravo’s clearing their way up through California. Because of the high population centers they’re dealing with, their job pretty much sucks. Same with Echo and Tango out on the East Coast. Lot of survivors in the big cities, and a lot of revs. Some areas are no better than war zones because the survivors are either fighting each other for the remaining supplies or worried that anyone who approaches might be infected. Bravo’s taken some pretty heavy losses, and they’ve had to start recruiting to replenish their numbers.”

  “You mean, making more Jugs? The same way—”

  “Yeah. Recruitment into Bravo Company is voluntary, and recruits know what they’re signing on for in advance. But it’s necessary to get them up to speed ASAP, so the policy is that once they agree, they’re anyone’s meat for eight weeks, with no right to refuse unless there’s a serious problem. And since a Jug’s too dangerous to leave uncontained, once you’re recruited, only way out is feet first. So if someone joins up and changes their mind, well . . . You get what I’m saying.”

  “So it’s not just me, because I might be infected with one of the other strains.” Rhys stumbled and reminded himself again to be careful where he walked. The weeds growing up through the cracks in the pavement kept catching his unwary feet. “But if others are doing it, why is Darius against it?”

  “Well, few years ago, down around Texas, we had a company go bad. Charlie Company. Their CO died, new guy took over, didn’t see why we Jugs—being superior—couldn’t just take what we wanted when we wanted it. After all, we’re stronger, faster, and better trained, and keeping those chumps settled outside Cheyenne Mountain alive, aren’t we? Exterminating the revs and all. The civvies owe us, right? So they started taking their pick of the survivors they found before sending the rest on. Creating harems and menial laborers for themselves. Slaves, in other words.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Titus grimaced. “The reason it’s taken us so
long to make our way this far north is because our company, along with Bravo and Sierra from up around Chicago, joined forces to take Charlie Company out. They were pretty well entrenched, and we might not have succeeded if their harem slaves hadn’t realized they were Jugs now and risen up to attack from the rear. Bailey over there led the revolt; he’d been one of the slaves. That’s how we learned Alpha strain could be transmitted by fucking. So, now Charlie Company’s under new management. But a lot of us took the way they went bad to heart. Set them up as an example of what we need to not let ourselves become. Darius is one of those, so this whole recruitment thing pokes him in all the wrong places.”

  The pavement blurred beneath his feet as Rhys considered how easily Darius might have refused permission to try to save his life. He hadn’t appreciated that night just how close he’d come to being written off.

  “So, why’d he agree, then? Is it just because Xolani bullied him into it?”

  Titus guffawed loudly. “Cooper, there ain’t no one makes Big D do what he don’t want to do.”

  “But then why—” Kaleo came jogging up from the rear, summoning Titus with a question.

  “Sorry, gotta handle this.” Titus clapped Rhys on the shoulder, nearly sending him toppling over, then dropped back toward the rear of the formation. “You figure it out, kid.”

  “Get your ass down, boy!”

  Darius grabbed Rhys’s shoulder and slammed him back against the brick wall that shielded them. He ignored Rhys’s pained grunt, peering once more around the corner at the windows of an ivy-covered dormitory that had once been part of Linfield College.

  “Fucking colonies,” he heard Toby mutter behind him, where the rest of the squad had their backs pressed against the brick wall to stay out of the line of sight. Darius silently agreed with him. They were pinned now, the alley in which they hunkered a dead end. Whoever these people were, they had spent considerable time barricading off every approach to the dorm except one, which created a perfect shooting gallery. It hadn’t appeared that way at first, though. It just seemed like the survivors here had tried to make it easier for themselves to spot revs coming. There’d been no warning that they’d be hostile until they’d opened fire. Now, if Darius and his people broke cover, they were targets on the open lawn.