by SP Durnin
Jake prepared himself as best he could and said, "Hit me."
"You have to swear that I'm your navi-guesser whenever you drive this monster out," she said.
He was a little taken back at that. "I was going to have Vince and Elle…"
"That's fine, but I'm still on the team," Kat interrupted. "I'm going crazy being cooped up all the time."
The thought of her risking her life out there with him every day made the unruly-haired man decidedly uncomfortable. "I don't think…"
"No." Her eyes flashed dangerously as she began ticking off reasons on her fingers. "The last couple of days have proven that we need a scout vehicle. Al and Gertie need to help George drive the Mimi. Maggie can't risk herself because she's the only one with medical training. Heather? Puh-leeze. The kids aren't ready for something like this. Hell, none of us are. That leaves me and Laurel. I know you don't want to take either of us along, and that's really sweet, but you need someone to watch your back. At least until Special Forces Ken and Barbie prove they can handle themselves."
Jake hated it, but she was right. Laurel was a darned good shot, but she didn't have a killer instinct. He couldn't have her out there with him, but he sure as hell didn't want to put Kat in that kind of danger either. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that she was the only choice.
He just wished he didn't feel so damn happy about it.
"Alright."
She looked at him closely. "Swear."
Jake sighed. "I swear."
"See?" she said brightly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He grinned amicably and motioned at her shirt.
Kat put her hands on her hips, turned her head slightly as she raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath. "Your fingers aren't broken."
Just get the keys, you wuss. His back-brain said.
Jake squinted at her thoughtfully. Kat moved her shoulders forward, pressing her breasts together and caused her neckline to gape even lower. After considering the problem for a moment, he carefully took hold on the bottom edge of her shirt, pulled it out, and caught the keys as they fell free. As he released her top, Kat fought to keep from smiling.
"You realize you just passed up a golden opportunity?" she laughed and straightened her shirt again, while he tried not to stare as she settled her various curves.
He was doomed.
* * *
Two hours later, Jake sat on the Hummer's tailgate, smoking contently.
He'd gone over the additions Rae had installed on the thing with Allen and learned the lovely woman wasn't just another pretty face. Her modifications were brilliant. The steel cage she turned the cab into couldn't be opened without the consent of the passengers or a cutting torch. Or maybe a couple of sticks of dynamite. It was a brick. A powerful, octane-driven brick. Short of the Mimi, a tank, or maybe the Batmobile, he'd never encountered a more solid vehicle.
Jake sat enjoying a cigarette, attempting to think of a way to keep Laurel from exploding. When he broke the news to her that she was going to be with the others in the transport, while he drove their new zombie-proof scouter around; she'd flip. There were sure to be quite a few choice words from his wild, wonderful redhead over that. Words like, Bullshit came to mind. Along with: Are you out of your mind? Or maybe even, Oh, So you don't want to have sex any time soon, huh?
"Hey, sailor."
Leaning around the edge of the tailgate, he looked back towards the main floor from the modified machine's recessed bay. Laurel sported her new haircut quite well. She'd gone for a longer style than her more adventurous, indigo-haired friend. It had been trimmed a few inches below her shoulders and was now all one length. Though it was no longer "barbarian maiden" long—almost down to her butt—as she sauntered towards him, Jake had to admit two things:
One. He'd never seen her look so sexy.
And two. He felt the abrupt need for pants that were looser in the crotch.
"Hello-o, nurse!" He gave her an innocent smile. "I'm ready for my sponge bath now."
She laughed. "Maybe if we try that at two in the morning, we might get away with it." Laurel joined him on the tailgate, hopping slightly to get her shapely rear end over the edge.
Jake took a final hit off his smoke and blew the cloud to his left, away from where she sat. "Tired?"
"You wish," she said, brushing her hair over to one side, baring the curved perfection of the spot where her neck and shoulder met. He felt the sudden urge to have his mouth there. "The door to the shower doesn't lock."
"Never stopped us before."
Laurel smiled and turned to crawl into the back seat. "Well, at least it's roomier than your last car. Even has that pine-fresh scent commercials always talked about."
"There's air fresheners under the seats." He rose from the tailgate and, hefting the metal slab up, secured it to the hull again. He walked around to the right passenger door and, while climbing inside, noticed Laurel's raised eyebrow. He pointed at the tailgate. "It locks from the inside."
"Uh huh." She nodded, clearly fighting a smile.
"And you tell me my mind is always in the gutter," Jake mumbled, sliding past her into the bed.
"That's because it usually is."
"This is a problem?"
"Not at all." Laurel rested her cheek in one hand and leaned against the seat back. "Maybe if you did it at inopportune times, then it would be an issue. I don't mind you looking at my boobs when other people are around, but groping me over corn flakes would be a bit much."
Jake chuckled and slid the triple locking bars in the body of the tailgate into place. While yanking on the hatch to make sure it wasn't going to pop loose, he heard the unmistakable sound of a door latching. He looked over his shoulder and found her grinning at him wickedly. Half crouched, Laurel slid into the rear, put a hand in the middle of his chest, and applied steady pressure until he was sitting in the bed, supported on his elbows.
"I'll take your word on the spectacular, structural integrity of this thing." She ran her hands over his shirt and straddled his lap. "There is one feature I really like though."
As he watched, she pulled the army-green undershirt up over her head and tossed it into the front seat. She drew her hands down his ribs, along the inside seam of her fatigue covered thighs, over her flat stomach, and finally up to cup her breasts. Jake's mouth went dry, but he managed to croak out. "What's that?"
"The privacy tint on the windows." Laurel slid her hands back down her torso and under his shirt. "Kind of risqué, don't you think?"
"Like having sex at the drive-in?" He leaned back against the surface of the bed as he moved his hands over her hips.
The redhead pulled his shirt off and, eyes dancing, bent over him until their lips were a breath away. "Exactly like that."
Chapter Seventeen
The next day was spent reorganizing supplies.
With three people added to their group, Laurel and Maggie found it necessary to re-evaluate their food stores. The Mimi could carry thirty cases of MREs which, combined with their dehydrated supplies, totaled out to just over five weeks of food, at three meals a day, for thirteen adults. Laurel insisted on adding Rae's entire supply of black pepper—32 oz—two, 20 pound bags of rock salt, and six, 5 pound cans of Jamaican coffee beans.
Maggie was happy to see that Rae's small facility was equipped with a modest array of both topical and intravenous painkillers. Though George had been incensed, she'd kept everything worthwhile from the late Mike Barron's stash. She convinced him that even the cocaine might be useful at some point, but he'd been surly for days. The tall EMT also pulled together a fairly comprehensive trauma kit, because Rae had a set of basic surgical instruments. If they could find a surgeon, at least he (or she) should be able to perform basic medical procedures with a decent chance of success.
Allen, Heather, Maggie, and the two teens also cleaned weapons. Jake's friend loved it. Taking things apart to find out how they worked was what prompted Al's interest in his dad's auto shop as a kid. That be
ing the case, he could appreciate the deadly beauty of Elle's 50cal in particular. The firearm was, to quote pop culture, a belt-fed, bullet-hosing, weapon of mass-fucking-destruction. Also, though Heather could barely support the weapon, when Allen told her she looked damn sexy with it strapped under her breasts she'd pulled him upstairs for a "noon-er".
Jake would've liked to do the same with Laurel, but had too much to do. He added a couple of days worth of supplies (food, water, ammo, and the like) to the Hummer, along with a basic med kit and a pair of highly, explosive surprises. He went out into the compound of junked automobiles with Vince, filling three, 10 gallon fuel containers to provide the Hummer with a full emergency supply, or in case they just couldn't find a convenient vehicle to siphon. He traced the southbound roads with George, mapping out the route least likely to have high concentrations of the dead. Though he trusted Rae's fabrication abilities, Jake wanted to put the Hummer through a dry run before taking on a large number of zombies.
Kat seemed determined to hold him to his word to take her along. She even went so far as to hang a small, stuffed Hello Kitty doll from the rear-view mirror of their SUV from Hell. When Jake curiously asked where she kept getting all the Hello Kitty stuff from, she just gave him a frank, sinful gaze, and raised an eyebrow. He decided he didn't really want to know at that point.
The following sunrise, after a night of bad jokes, some pretty darned good whiskey—Jameson's, courtesy of Rae's stores, which endeared her to Laurel—and a couple of discrete cases of, I'm really tired, so I'll walk (insert chosen partner's name here) to their room, then see you all in the morning, Jake drove the Hummer south down the service road. Kat had commandeered the navi-guesser position, so Elle and Leo sat in the back, fighting with the Triple-A road map. Both Allen and Laurel wanted to go, but with all the repacking still left to do in the Mimi, along with instructing Rae on how to run its various control systems so she could act as a backup, they were forced to decline.
Jake's friend understood. Laurel was rather upset.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she screamed, as he turned the Humvee around in the machine shop.
"Taking a run south to Bainbridge," Jake replied, reasonably. "Rae said there's a motorcycle dealership outside the town, so we'll grab a couple bikes."
Laurel trotted quickly down the metal stairs, moved in front of the Hummer, and crossed her arms. Jake saw her hip cock out and sighed. It was going to be one of those conversations.
"Am I the only one who thinks that's a really bad idea? Because the last time you got on a motorcycle was so much fun?"
He attempted to pacify her, opening his door and running a hand around her waist when she stepped close to grip the frame. "We might need them as secondary scouts if something happens to this monster. I'd rather get them now, since we know where they are, as opposed to going anywhere near a large population center down the line," Jake explained.
Laurel had tried to think up an argument for that, but she couldn't. She stepped up on the entry rail to pass her arms around his neck. "You have to swear you'll be careful."
"As careful as possible," Jake said.
She leaned around him, looking at Kat. "You make his life hell if he does anything stupid, alright? At least until you all get back here, so I can kick his ass?"
"Oh, count on it." Kat agreed, smiling widely.
Satisfied—if not happy—Laurel kissed him, climbed down, and closed the door. She and Foster watched as they rolled from the building, past the Mimi, and finally up to the massive gate. After making sure no zombies were around, George activated his Genie remote and the bus slid from the entrance allowing them passage. They needn't have worried. Outside Rae's hideaway, the surrounding area was as empty as a lawyers' soul. Neither human nor zombie graced the horizon in either direction.
* * *
The rural town of Bainbridge wasn't small, just rural. No high rises, no beautified welcome centers for mega-corporations, and no trendy coffee bistros hawking earth-friendly cups of soy-based, imitation bean squeezings. They had Rockwellesque storefronts, a feed store on the west side—complete with grain silo—and Gail's Diner touted the best coffee in town.
A pizza shop east of the square called "Mama Malscone's" was the only building Jake saw—as they surveyed the town from the northern ridge—that appeared questionable. It looked like the front windows had been covered with the establishment's oak tables. At least from what he could see from so far away. The windows were high enough to be a bitch to enter for a healthy, breathing human, let alone a brick-stupid ghoul that couldn't jump. It also appeared that whoever had (or was) sheltered inside had sealed the rear entrances, due to a length of rope hanging from a second story window that provided entry and egress. He wondered what happened to the survivor/survivors, and shuddered as a sudden flash of Mike Barron's butchered body derailed his train of thought. While the building could be vacant, Jake made a mental note to enter the small township from its opposite side. Just in case. Chances were whoever had stayed above the pizza parlor was lying motionless and rotting in the street somewhere along with the rest of town's population, but why take chances?
The drive had been pretty uneventful for the quartet, despite Laurel's reservations. There had been the occasional zombie shuffling along Route 41, but when they arrived on the outskirts of the little town, it seemed utterly devoid of activity. Jake, along with the blonde-haired sergeant, had carefully scanned the streets through binoculars from the ridge and pronounced it clear.
They took the Hummer through empty fields leading down to the rear of a Dairy Queen, circling the town's outskirts and finally out onto Main Street. There was evidence of previous human and zombie activity, but it was weeks old. Gore streaked down and across the walls of some buildings, most leading to a corpse lying on the sidewalk or close to a nearby pickup. There were some missing, judging from the nasty stains without bodies nearby. Jake reasoned that they'd gotten back up and wandered off again after reanimating.
"Wow. Hometown, USA," Elle said.
The dealership came into view four blocks later. It was fairly wreckage free, except for an overturned F150 near the entrance, and didn't appear to have been looted. That was a definite plus. Over two months of neglect had killed what little landscaping existed throughout the town, but the hardy fir trees edging the shop's lot seemed to be doing just fine.
"Huh. Blue spruce," Jake grunted.
"So?" Elle asked.
"If you pull a handful of needles and boil them into a tea, you get as much Vitamin C as you would from eating an orange." He noticed Elle giving him a raised eyebrow.
"I did a lot of editing for publishers over the last year, okay? Cookbooks, survival manuals, how-to guides. Hell, if we can locate the chemicals, I could make black powder, chloroform, thermite." Jake frowned thoughtfully as he brought the vehicle to a stop before the showroom doors. "Maybe even mustard gas or napalm. If we run across a swimming pool supply store…"
He killed the engine and readied the M4 that George insisted he carry. Since his near death experience in the alley, Jake had agreed. He was through fucking around. He'd started packing the semi-auto rifle, his monstrous Hammer pistol, a Glock 9mm, and (of course) his trusty crowbar secured in a tactical across his back.
It was silent outside, except for the sounds of nature, as the four made their way cautiously into the dealership. While jimmying the door (read: prying it open with his crowbar), Jake had an epiphany and pulled the front of the Hummer flush against the entrance as the others waited inside. He climbed through the top hatch and walked over the hood as his companions watched curiously.
"Just in case." He made sure the door was locked behind them. "This way if any of those things show up, they won't be able to get in. If I have to, I can climb up to the hatch again, crawl inside, and draw them away."
"Or just run them over," Leo said helpfully. "That thing is bad-ass."
The quartet went about clearing the building. Thankfully, there were
no signs of activity within. Not surprising, due to the lack of weapons or supplies in a motorcycle dealership. Elle wanted to take a couple of quad-runners, but Jake argued those would take up too much room in the Mimi's rear segment. They settled for a pair of Honda XR650 sport bikes instead. They were perfect for scramming off-road if the shit hit the fan. Also, with two of the same model, they could cannibalize one to repair the other if necessary down the line. Spare parts for everything were going to be very difficult to obtain in the foreseeable future, so having a backup was only prudent.
"Jake? Come up here for a minute?" Kat called from the second floor. It was a partial balcony, only spanning about a third of the upper level and was full of various riding gear—helmets, boots, and bandannas. All the necessities to keep you from turning into a stain on the pavement if you took a spill at seventy miles an hour.
He topped the stairs and his jaw dropped. Kat had somehow, in about a minute and a half, put her wardrobe through an upgrade. Gone were her ever-present jeans. She replaced them with a pair of black, leather pants which brought primal thoughts to Jake's brain almost immediately. She'd opted against a tac-vest when they'd left Rae's hideaway (which he thought was risky, but he didn't push the issue). She stated that lugging one around would only slow her down. Kat wore only a waist holster for her Glock, a thigh belt to hold four magazines for the weapon, a web belt with a small pouch, her grandfather's sword diagonally across her back, and a canteen. She also added a pair of steel-embossed, biker-style, arm bracers that came almost to her elbows. She wore these over a pair of police issue gloves they'd looted from Tim's Emporium.
Finally, being early summer, she opted to wear a bra—purple, of course—and a white tank top she'd trimmed from Foster's stores in the Mimi. It showed off the firmness of her flat stomach and hugged her torso like a second skin.
Jake caught himself wishing she'd passed on the bra.