by SP Durnin
"I have to be me, but when I am, it drives guys away!" Kat explained. "I've tried to change, but I can't and that's just…"
"Bullshit!" Jake snapped, and gripped her arms, really angry now. "That's utter bullshit! I wouldn't change anything about you for the world. And just so you know. Me, personally? I think having an equal is a lot more preferable, than having a prissy, cowardly, drama-happy, prima-donna that I'd constantly have to protect!"
Kat started to pull away. "Sure. I've heard that before."
He jerked her forcefully back. There was something he needed to say. "Don't. Don't you dare compare me to morons who couldn't appreciate you. Oh, and for the record? A fragile, little, lotus flower wouldn't have been able to save me earlier. I'd be dead."
From the stunned look on her face, she hadn't thought about that.
"You're aggressive side doesn't scare me. If you want the truth, I think it's sexy as all hell. I needed you out there today. I want you to be strong and outspoken and fucking deadly, because we're heading west soon, and you've got skills none of the group can match. Myself included." Kat could only stare at him open-mouthed as he tore all her carefully constructed walls apart. "Do you understand? We need you, Katherine. I need you."
After standing there trembling for a few moments, she threw herself into Jake's arms with a low cry and locked their lips together.
This kiss was far more than their last. Their lips moved against each other's slowly, bringing a long, neglected void they'd both ignored to the surface. It was like walking for days through the Sahara, only to come across a glacier fed pool in the searing desert heat and the relief that diving headlong into its soothing waters would bring.
Kat's capacity for conscious thought fled the moment their kiss began. She clung to Jake, her hands grasping at the material of his combat vest, body straining to be closer than the limits of their skin would allow. He responded in kind by wrapping her in his arms, one hand pressed low over her spine, the other cradling her neck as he bowed her backwards slightly. It took her breath away. She gasped against his lips and moved her arms around his neck, fingers sliding through his unruly hair as her mouth pulled at him. Her tongue danced lightly against his, demanding that he match her need or be consumed by it.
Jake tried to keep a clear head, but it was almost impossible. Her hungry lips, her fingers that were locked in his hair, the way she felt with her body smashed to his, all threatened to cause him to lose control. Kat moved against him without inhibition, throwing off heat like a steam-driven engine with purpose. It was only a long-nurtured conscience that kept him from tearing away their restrictive clothing and lowering them both to the ground, right there. He wanted to bury himself inside her, make her writhe with pleasure, feel the score of her nails across his back, and hear her cry out as they coupled on the gritty asphalt.
But he didn't. He did care about Kat in a way he couldn't explain and felt drawn to the lovely, sword-wielding, half-crazy young woman, partially due to their daily sessions of punch-me, kick-you over the last month and a half. He and Laurel were definitely an item though, and Jake fully intended for them to remain as such. He had no illusions. He knew he was falling for her, hard, and that was a bad idea during an apocalypse involving the mobile dead. Or any kind of apocalypse really. But he didn't give a damn. Finding a woman like Laurel—smart, beautiful, and creative musically—was either a stroke of luck or just fate. She was passionate. Boy was she ever. Tough, good with a sidearm (again, zombie apocalypse) and wasn't the type to crush his heart like a jellybean when some guy with a thick wallet strutted by.
That was why he regretfully brought their kiss to an end. Kat released her grip on his hair. She could tell what he was thinking and smiled sadly. Closing her eyes, the lovely woman pressed his forehead to her own.
"So. In another world, maybe?" She asked, with a sad grin.
"Absolutely." He brushed Kat's indigo hair away from her face. "Somewhere in the multiverse we're on a beach together, drinking good rum, making love, and generally scaring the wildlife."
She cupped his jaw with both hands. "I'm not sure which is worse. Never getting to roll around in the surf, or the fact that you just let your geek-flag fly by using the term multiverse."
She kissed him briefly again then stepped back as he laughed and retrieved his crowbar from the ground. Kat kept his hand in hers though, and they started across the lot. She was sure if she let go just then, she would start crying. The last thing she wanted was for Jake to see her like that.
"You're awesome. You know that?" He squeezed her hand as he opened the door for her.
She grinned wickedly. "Just you wait. I'll be able to take down twice as many zombies next time. From now on? I'll be sure to keep a pistol on me. Since I know how to deal with them at close range now, those things won't be so tough."
He raised an eyebrow in her direction. "I'm not sure which is worse. How that comment would worry most people, or the fact that I'm really looking forward to seeing you do it."
Kat's smile was dazzling. "You ain't seen nothing yet, gaijin..."
* * *
The others got back about thirty minutes later.
Jake had cleaned up a bit by that time, changing out of his gore-covered Khakis into a fresh pair of army-issue, battle-dress bottoms—read: fatigues—and swapping his bloody tactical vest for another out of Foster's stores. He left it hanging over a chair-back at the table in the common room where Gertrude sat with the kids, sipping her ever present mug of Earl Grey.
Laurel was the first one up. She sprung from George's pickup almost before he brought it to a halt, ran through the abandoned tenement, past the access plate and up the metal stairs to the common room. Not saying a word, she almost knocked Jake over as she leapt the last ten feet into his arms.
He caught her mid-leap and her mouth sought his desperately. Wrapping one, long leg around his own, the other dangling an inch above the floor as he held her aloft, she hugged him so tightly that Jake was sure he felt his ribs creaking under the pressure. He said nothing, even as her strength hurt him, and continued to kiss her.
He wasn't really surprised at her reaction, until the redhead pressed her face to his neck. Laurel began to shake and clutched at him, causing the collar of his shirt to bunch under his throat, which severely restricted his ability to obtain much-needed oxygen.
* * *
Kat would've sympathized with her roommate's reaction at the sight of Jake, safe and whole, but she was upstairs in her room.
The ninja girl had told Gertrude that she needed to change out of her own blood-splattered clothing and headed up to the third floor. In reality, she simply needed a quiet place to cry for a while.
Her heart was breaking. When she met Jake, she believed him to be the type of person her roommate would connect with. That was why she'd set them up to meet. What Kat came to learn during the horror and chaos of the dead rising though, was that he was also the kind of man she connected with. Rugged good looks which—at least in her eyes—he had in abundance were nice, but largely unnecessary. He had an excellent, if somewhat nerdy, sense of humor, a caring personality, and those eyes...
But she'd set him up with her best friend, instead of keeping him for herself.
Stupid, she thought. I'm so stupid.
She was drawn to him. The way he spoke. The way he moved. The way he treated people, even when he was scared to death. Like in the alley, when he told her to leave him. The way he wanted her to save herself, as if she was worth more.
"Oh God. He's a hero," she moaned. "And I'm in love with him!"
Kat was horrified. She'd been of the opinion that there wasn't any such animal. Or if there was, they were an endangered species. Not believing there were heroes out there was far easier than knowing she would never find one for herself.
Worse, she knew full well that heroes usually didn't live to a ripe old age. More often than not, they came to a swift, bloody, and extremely messy end. The pain that realization caused felt
like someone stabbed a rusty knife into her soul. It doubled her over, until she lay curled up on the bed, weeping hysterically into her pillow. She couldn't get her breath, and her heart pounded so hard it threatened to burst from her chest in fear. Jake was going to die. Kat knew it as surely as she knew she couldn't bear to continue living afterwards.
She could never tell him. It would make him avoid her; never mind the hurt it would cause Laurel to have her best friend attempt to cherry-pick her man.
Her chest hurt.
She could never tell him. The thought caused her lower lip to quiver and she couldn't stop trembling. She screamed into the pillow so no one would hear and tried to control herself. She failed. Kat sobbed brokenheartedly, pillow clutched to her chest as the pain shook her.
* * *
"Laurel, it's ok." Jake held her easily, rubbing his hands over her back. "I wasn't bitten. I'm fine. Really sweaty and ready to drop, but fine."
She didn't respond except to squeeze him tighter. Jake swayed back and forth, rocking her against his chest.
George, Allen, and Maggie made their way into the common room, all looking very thankful to be back inside their little haven. Heather hurried over to embrace Allen as he punched his friend in the shoulder.
"Man, the next time you wanna take a stroll? Let's not be anywhere near this city, yeah?" Allen said, after taking Heather into his arms.
"Fuckin'-A," George growled, plunking down heavily in one of the dining chairs. The old soldier looked beat after driving around in streets full of maggot heads for the last two hours. "That's the best, goddamned idea I've heard since all this shit started."
Laurel pulled back a little so she could see Jake's face, eyes still overly full and unwilling to loosen her arms from around his waist.
"We thought you were dead!" She said, raggedly fighting a storm of tears. "We thought they got you and... and..."
She hid her face in his neck again and started to sob.
Jake was a little disappointed by her lack of faith in his abilities, but he understood how Laurel felt. On the day of the outbreak, he'd been almost mad with need to get to her. She evidently felt the same way during the three-hour wait, while he'd engaged in a terrifying and exhausting version of Pac Man with hundreds of zombies. The difference was, as he'd slowly made his way back to Foster's hidey hole, she didn't have the slightest clue where he was. Maybe he'd been cornered or hurt somehow. Maybe he'd been bitten, then decided it was better to end it all away from the group so he didn't endanger anyone. Realizing how hard it must have been to watch him traipse off, stupidly playing the hero in an effort to keep the others safe, he was content to hold her until the worst of the storm passed.
"Don't cry. It took me a little longer than I thought it would to get back, but I didn't really have any close calls." Jake decided a comforting lie would be better than letting her know he'd almost become the main course for a rotting crowd, right behind the safe house. He'd talk to Kat, once Laurel calmed down, to make sure she didn't slip and mistakenly tell her about his brush with death. "Those things are slow as hell and about as mentally agile as a bag full of hammers. Out thinking them wasn't hard, I just had to…"
He wound down as he noticed Maggie and the two men looking at him wearing strange expressions. "What?"
"You came in from the north?" Foster asked. "Through the lot gate?"
"Yeah. I told you I'd…"
"He didn't see it," Maggie said.
They were all acting weird. Jake took Laurel's chin and brought her face up. "What happened?"
She got herself under control again and replied, "Out front. In the street. It's awful."
"Can you show me?" he asked.
She bit her lip and wiped her eyes with one hand. "I don't know if I can look at it again. I might not be able to handle it twice."
"It's alright. George can show me. Stay here with Gertie and the kids while…"
"No!" Laurel clutched his shirt tightly again. "You're not going out there again! No way!"
"We'll go up to the roof." Foster rose and put his work-roughened palm lightly on her arm. "I don't much feel like sticking my nose out there. Not now."
That worried Jake a bit. George had seen blood and death and horror in two wars across the face of the globe. If something made him uneasy…
* * *
There were bodies on all the roads. So many. In some places you'd think it was the road to Perdition, paved not with good intentions, but with the dead. The truly dead.
The damned, however, still walked...
Chapter Fifteen
Jake stood on the roof with Foster and Kat.
He stared at himself down on the street through a pair of binoculars George brought along. Well, it wasn't really him. It was a corpse dressed like him. Khakis, CBGB t-shirt, combat boots, the whole nine yards. It wasn't walking around, hungrily looking for someone to consume, for a couple of reasons.
One. It hadn't been killed by the zombies. They tended to eat their victims, not impale them with a crowbar just above their navel.
Two. It had been crucified on the rear of a tow truck, then tied to the wrecker arm with razor wire at its wrists and shoulders. A strand also encircled its neck, securing it vertically.
It was also missing a few things.
While it still had a head, everything from the bottom teeth up was gone. Like a gigantic ice cream scoop had taken it all away in one brutal swipe. If that wasn't bad enough, the front of the dead man's pants had been cut away from knees to waistband, and his genitalia had been brutally removed.
"What the fuck? How the hell did that get there?" Jake exclaimed, studying the corpse.
"It was waiting outside when we got back," Foster replied. "That's why Red was so panicked. Thought it was you myself, 'til I took a closer look. Gave me a hell of a turn."
"Did you see anything on the cameras?" he asked Kat.
She shook her head. "They don't cover that area. The only way to see it is from the roof. Or if you happen to be running with zombies."
Jake rolled his eyes and passed her the binoculars.
"Whoever did this tied him to the crossbar while he was still alive. There's a lot of damage all along his arms, like he put up a struggle. Did you see the note?" She lowered the binoculars and pointed. "Behind him and to the right on the driver's side door."
He looked again and sure enough, a piece of notebook paper was taped to the window. "You're next!" he read.
"See the needle marks at the elbow?" Foster blew his nose on a red bandana he pulled from his back pocket. "Look familiar to anyone?"
"Barron," Jake said numbly. "We searched him before we taped him to the chair, after he and Nichole tried to drug Karen. He had fresh track marks along the veins at his left elbow. Are you positive it's him?"
George nodded. "I thought so when I saw those. I made sure. That stupid tattoo he'd show off on his stomach is pretty distinctive."
"Damn. Nichole killed him?" Kat folded her arms under her breasts. "I knew she was a crazy bitch, but this is a whole new level of nutso. Even for her."
Jake pulled out a cigarette, lit up with his Zippo, and stared at the slaughtered clubber, trying to work the scenario out in his head. It didn't add up. "If Nichole did this, she had help. I can tell you from experience after fighting those things out there; it would take more strength than she had on her best day to stick a crowbar though his gut like that."
"So, what? During all this…zombies…the end of the world, she found somebody as crazy as she is?" Kat frowned. "That's really fucked up."
"Well regardless of who's helping her, they obviously have one hell of a hard on at the thought of getting us. Whether for the supplies or our location or..." He broke off to glance at Kat and scratched at his stubble-rough cheek.
"Yeah. That's what I think too."
Jake nodded slowly, exhaling a cloud of smoke that wafted away in the breeze. "That's why they cut his package off. To send a message."
Kat looked back an
d forth between the grim faced-writer and the old fixer. "You're gonna have to explain that one to me."
"You're next. Me, specifically. Think about how they dressed him before they brought him here. Now take into account they castrated him." Jake flicked the butt of his smoke over the edge of the roof. "They're saying I won't be using mine anymore, once they get their hands on us. Maybe because they plan to do the same to me. Maybe because they've got plans for whoever I might be using it with."
They looked at Mike's hanging form for a few minutes before Foster broke the silence. "I'm gonna go give our ride the once over. Tomorrow good for you?"
The writer nodded. "If you would, ask the kids to help Gertrude tonight and I'll tell Laurel. She said she needed a drink after seeing that, and I don't think she needs to know someone's targeting me. Not this very second anyway."
George gave him a thumbs up and went inside, leaving the two of them alone on the rooftop. Jake was looking intently at the message on the tow truck when Kat stepped close beside him. She was shivering, even in the warm July breeze.
"I've been having nightmares about something like that happening," she said finally. "Ever since the day of the outbreak."
He turned his head to look at her. "You never said anything."
Kat stuffed her hands halfway into the front pockets of her jeans. She could only get them halfway in because the pants were tight with a capital TIGHT. She shrugged, causing the torso-hugging, belly shirt she wore to gape around her midsection, providing him a brief glimpse of her flat stomach. "Not really something you talk about socially, you know? How've you been handling the apocalypse, Kat? Oh, I've been having nightmares about being chained to a group of other women and raped almost every night. When I'm actually able to get to sleep, that is. Alrighty, been great talking with you, Kat. Gotta go. Write if you find work…"