After a while, I can’t hear the Zombie anymore, but that doesn’t stop me. I’m sawing my way and hacking my way into the man from both sides. His gore-riddled face is limp against my chest, his biting jaws slack. Dropping my machete, I give him a push, feeling the warm blood all over me as the tearing sounds that fill the air unleash a flood of snake-like intestines all over me as his body rips in half. Trying to avoid the urge to vomit, I shove the dead man’s torso away and kick his legs off of me, worming myself away from the scene.
I rush to my feet, blindly groping for my machete, searching the dim improvement store for any sign of Lindsay. I can’t see her, but as my fingers wrap around the handle of my machete, I’m filled with urgency to find her. I have to find her before the other Zombie gets to her. I rush past the rows of awnings with their stacks of different lumber cuts. There’s nothing but debris that has been caught in the colossal windstorms that are rippling across the world every day. I find another arrow sticking into a stack of railroad ties and my heart begins to pound faster and faster. I want to call out to her, but I don’t know if there are more of the Zombies inside of the store. Who am I kidding? If there are, then they’ll already know that we’re here from the shriek.
“Lindsay!” I shout.
I pass another row and suddenly, there she is, sinking the shaft of one of her arrows into the last Zombie’s eye. The aluminum shaft is broken and the creature is shrieking in horrific pain. It claws at her, desperate to make the pain stop. She digs the shaft deeper and deeper into the monster, pushing through the socket and into the brain with a distinct sound that makes my whole body shiver. With a twist of the shaft, the creature stops shrieking and it suddenly goes limp, pulling Lindsay down with it. Just in case it isn’t quite dead, I rush to her side before she hits the ground. Dropping my machete, I reach for her arm and quickly pull her up.
She’s smiling.
Pushing her hair back and out of her face, the grin across her lips is one that makes the very core of my being shiver with a disturbed sense of confusion. Who finds this entertaining or enjoyable? She lets out a demented little laugh and then gives me a punch to my good shoulder before scooping up her bow. I watch her with a completely baffled expression on my face as she pulls her arrow out of the railroad tie. She glances over her shoulder at me and winks. There’s something sinister about her that I don’t appreciate as much as she might think I do. I watch her vanish around the corner and I wonder what kind of psychopath that I’ve gotten myself mixed up with. Reaching down, I take my machete and sheath it.
I wish I could appreciate this world as much as she does.
When I catch up to her, she’s ripping her other arrow out of the head of the first Zombie she killed. I watch her wipe the head of the arrow on the back of the dead Zombie before she sheaths it with the others. Looking at me, she smiles once more, but this is the smile I like. It’s the smile that blossoms like the sun in this dark, wretched world. The sun is one of the last beautiful things that I can appreciate and by God, her smile reminds me of it. I watch her survey the area before her gaze settles on the Zombie that I completely cleaved in half. She looks at me, as if expecting me to give a bow for the work that I’ve done.
Passing her by, I head for the store. It’s surprisingly well stocked and part of me immediately thinks that this is someone’s base of operation. Darkness scatters as I search the building with my LED flashlight. There’s stacks of empty cans but there’s no food to be seen. The thin layer of dust also warns that whoever supplied and outfitted this location hasn’t been here in a very long time. I run my fingers along a shelf and look back at the doors where Lindsay is just now coming to join me. I don’t know what she’s been doing, but she flicks on her flashlight and starts searching the far side of the store.
There’s plenty of supplies here to barricade yourself in or to start constructing something. My mind starts drifting back to Jason and his grand designs. If only he had access to this place, oh man, I could just imagine what he would have started constructing. I step over a threshold and I’m in the greenhouse section of the store. Everything is dead, but there are bags of potting soil and fertilizer. I can’t help but wonder if someone will find this place and start building a new world. I want to, but I have to find the girls. I can’t do both. Am I just fooling myself? I turn and pass back into the hardware store and walk past shelves of nails and screws, reels of wire and cable. My imagination flares to life and I smile at all the possibilities that will never happen.
“Charlie,” I hear Lindsay shout across the store. “Come have a look at this.”
I slowly chase after the source of her voice until I see her light. She’s in the painting section. I wander over to her and see that she’s shining her flashlight on the ceiling and staring at something with a very intent gaze, as if she is trying to decipher some sort of code. I follow her gaze and see exactly what it is she’s staring at.
An enormous drum container that can hold maybe fifty-five gallons is sticking out of the roof, as if it just sort of sank halfway through the ceiling. At the bottom of it, a hose is running down and across the rafters of the store until it comes down where there’s a drain in the floor. We follow it slowly, illuminating the hose as we walk, until we’re standing under what looks like a sprinkler head. Without questioning it, Lindsay reaches out for the sprinkler head and pulls it close to her face and sniffs it. She shrugs and I smile. I think I’m putting together what it is. It’s not a sprinkler head. It’s a shower wand.
I reach out and take the wand, flipping the tiny lever and unleashing a burst of water. Lindsay jumps at the weak pressure, but it’s water nonetheless. She smiles as I quickly put my hand under the weak torrent. I shut it off, not wanting to waste it. Holding the water up to my nose, I sniff it. There isn’t a funny smell to it, so I assume that it’s safe.
“Want a shower?” I ask Lindsay.
She grins. “What a gentleman.”
“I try to be,” I shrug, and hand her the wand.
“I’ll try not to hog it all,” Lindsay says as she quickly starts to shrug off her pack and hand it to me. I take her bag and smile at the excited little child she’s become all of a sudden. I set her bag far enough away that it won’t get wet. This is a small luxury that I’m afraid we’ll never get again. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? I don’t mind missing out on this one. She quickly starts to take off her jacket and then her button-up shirt. I look away and hear her giggling at my blushing face. “Try not to peek too much, Charlie,” she chides me. I feel her shirt descend over my head and the world around me goes black.
Chapter Nine
I try to find myself on the map but there’s no way of knowing just where we are. There were no signs near the road and if I want to get a better idea of where I’m at, I’m going to need to go on a walk, but that would leave Lindsay alone in her open shower. I look at Blanchester on the map and then slowly trace my finger toward the Ohio River and suddenly realize that I’m in between I-don’t-give-a-shit and there’s-a-naked-woman-behind-me. I fold up the map in frustration and try to ignore the titanium strength erection in my pants.
I have to keep myself occupied. I stuff the map back into my bag and look south out the doors, wondering how long until we reach the Ohio River. Or, I try to make myself wonder about the Ohio River. I don’t actually give a shit about some damn river at this point. All I can picture is Lindsay, rising up out of the brown and gray, sludgy waters of the Ohio River, naked and running her hands through her oily hair as the liquid sewage runs off her perky breasts and slowly begins to reveal the wonders of her body. I rip open my eyes and look back out the doors, terrified to turn around.
Behind me, I can hear Lindsay humming something. It’s almost as if she knows what’s happening to me and I want to tell her to knock it off so badly. What’s more revealing to be sexually frustrated than shouting at a woman for humming? I begin to pace in the pale pool of light behind the front doors of the store, watching for any signs of tro
uble, barely resisting the urge to rush back there and grab her. I want to—no! It doesn’t matter what I want to do. I’m not crossing that line, at least not now. There could be a shit ton of Zombies just behind one door here and we could both be dead. Lindsay would be naked during the encounter and I would be the only one who could save her and depending upon the numbers, I might be able to save her, but most scenarios end up with us being eaten.
It would go down violently. I would be surrounded by a horde of flesh-eating nightmares while Lindsay is back, lathering her breasts with soap. I would swing wildly, savaging several of the abominations while trying to get my way back to the screaming beauty that I’ve abandoned in my watch. She would reach for a hammer, swinging desperately at the nearest monster that was coming for her, her ample breasts swaying from side to side with every frenzied blow.
I have to stop. I keep pacing, walking faster now, taking a larger loop with my ellipse of self-denial. This is all in my head. If Lindsay had wanted me, she would have asked me to stay with her, to be with her in the shower, to share it. That’s what people attracted to each other do. I think? No, she doesn’t want me, and if she did, then she certainly would have wanted me to be manly about it and take what I want for myself. She’s not the kind of girl to just give it up. She’s the kind of girl to make a man work for it. She wants a bad boy and I am not a bad boy. Or, I think that’s what Lindsay probably would have been into, before all of this happened. After all, she worked at a club. Players and tough guys hang out at clubs and then she also worked at a gym. What kind of men did she usually get hit on by? I mean, her body makes up for her face. Men would still want to conquer her at the given opportunity. No, she never would want me. She’s not into me. I take a deep breath and let out a sigh, slowing my pace as I walk. The tingling nerves all around my body subside.
But what about the parlor? What about the time she was naked, changing and saw me admiring her—hell, I was full on ogling her and she seemed completely okay with it. No, she seemed to actually like it. How am I supposed to gauge a woman who is such a wildcard? One second she seems to like me checking her out, objectifying her fantastic body, but in the next she’s complaining about me and suffering through my daily routine. Maybe I lost what little amount of desire she had for me on the march today. What if she’s moved on? Decided that she doesn’t like me that much anymore?
She did joke about me staring at her while she showered. Was that another attempt by her to just torment me or was she actually making a suggestion to me? Does she want me to come back there and stare at her? It would be awkward, but I am fairly open to the idea of seeing her naked again. I can picture her sculpted ass and those long, toned legs. God, her back was even amazing with those little dimples and who finds backs attractive? I’ve never found backs attractive before I saw her naked back. I could make it seem like an accident. I could pretend that I need to check out something in the back of the store and accidentally catch a glance of her. That could work. She might believe that.
No she won’t. There’s no way anyone would ever fall for that. I wince at the awkwardness of the whole scenario and wonder how the hell I ever survived a date in my life before I met Tiffany. With Tiffany, it had been so much easier. Tiffany had been a romantic and she had loved me so openly. There were no games, no teasing with her. She adored me and I adored her. We were open and honest with each other about everything in our lives. Even the first time I kissed her, I told her that I was going to kiss her just so I didn’t surprise her. That, and the fact that I couldn’t resist not kissing her. My God, Tiffany had been an amazing woman—the most amazing woman. For as wonderful as she was, there was no way that Lindsay would ever match or live up to her. I feel my whole body slouching forward, trying to implode and the crushing reality that the greatest woman to ever live was long dead and that I would never get her back. I never did, nor do I still want a substitute for the woman I knew to be my soul mate. Honestly, I just want to fuck Lindsay. It’s a primal, savage thing, but I refuse to deny it. I am what I am.
“Charlie!” I hear her call and my heart immediately begins to pound once more and I am filled with dread and panic.
I turn slowly and look back into the depths of the store where a naked woman is waiting for me. Slowly, I take my first step and then my next step. With each step, I move closer and closer toward the inevitable situation that I’m afraid will be the last situation I have with Lindsay. What if I make love to her and she never wants to see me again? What if she’s just as savage and primal as I am? What if she just wants sex and will be done with me? What if she doesn’t want sex and I’m stuck there with an erection the size of Mount Everest like some stupid jackass?
When I find her, Lindsay is pulling her knee-high socks up and I think I’m about to die. She is in just her panties and her bra as she looks over at me, her wet hair hanging down over her shoulders and down her back as she smiles like the sunrise. She turns and stands up, putting her hands on her hips and posing like a model for me. Again, I feel as if I’m about to die. She laughs at whatever expression I’m wearing, but I lost all consciousness of that when I saw her in her underwear. She’s wearing black panties and a black bra that is barely containing her.
“It’s all yours, Tiger,” she says with a soft voice.
“Okay,” I say cautiously, approaching the shower wand like it might be ready to spray acid all over my face. That, or it’ll point out that I have a raging erection to Lindsay.
I make sure to have my back to her as I take off my boots and place them safely away from the shower wand. I’m trying to go as slow as possible, so I can give Lindsay enough time to get the hell out of here before I get naked. Taking off my socks and putting them on top of my shoes, I turn around and see her slowly pulling up her tight jeans, her eyes never leaving me. They are glued to me with an intense stare that makes me wonder if she wants to kill me or eat me. After she pulls on her red tank top and starts to button her shirt up, I’m almost naked. Standing in my underwear, I wait for her to go. If I was embarrassed and in a perfect world, my erection would have shriveled in fear, but I am not who I once was. Part of me wants her to see. That deep, dark part of every man that longs to take what he desires and apologize to no one. I want to turn around and showcase my hunger for her, to see what will happen. Because of my lust, it remains there, a monolith of truth to what I desire.
Pulling down my briefs, I walk toward the shower and turn it on, holding out my bandages, making sure that I don’t get them wet. I can feel her eyes on me and I slowly turn around and look at her. She’s staring at my back and ass with a vacant expression that I don’t know how to respond to. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I growl at her as the water runs through my short, greasy hair. It feels good, but it’ll take gallons to get all the grime and filth off of me. I want to be dropped into the ocean and left to cleanse myself of this world.
As I clean myself, I notice that she’s no longer looking at me and that deep, forbidden part of my primordial soul is saddened by this. However, after a while, I understand and figure that it’s for the best. It would be foolish if we did this. We would have to deal with the consequences and I would have to explain to the girls what I have done and who she is. I don’t even know who she is to me. Maybe in another life we could have. Maybe in another life when the world hadn’t fallen to pieces I would have passed through Columbus and stopped at whatever hellish club she worked at with its fluorescent lights and its thumping music. In that world, maybe I would have made eye contact with her and she might have flashed that smile at me. I might have cast my self-inflicted vow of celibacy into the wind and asked her for her number or if she was busy after her shift. I might have taken her back to my hotel room and fucked her until the sun came up and I had to go home or continued onward to wherever I was going and maybe she would have just gone back to the bar. I feel myself sinking into sadness at the imagination of this fake world. Maybe I should have been bold. Maybe I should have gone for it when she
was showering.
The world is dead and hollow, left with nothing but haunting whispers and ghosts where we once had choices and freedom. Now, in the ultimate freedom and all its unimaginable horrors, I don’t need to be stuck with regret. There are enough regrets in the world to fill the barren stretches of the once fertile globe. No, I reach up and turn the wand off. No more regrets.
When I find her, she’s standing with her back to me, staring out the front doors. She ignores the determined slapping of my wet feet on the concrete floor as I approach her. When I’m close enough, she slowly starts to turn, but she’s too late. I grab her arm and spin her around, pushing her up against the dead automated doors and planting a kiss on her, my naked body pressing up against her clothed body. At first, her lips are motionless underneath the force of my impact, but soon they part eagerly and I can feel her warm tongue against mine. I feel the reassurance of her breath against my lips and tongue as we intertwine. Pulling away, I look into her eyes and I see that she is more than willing, she’s ravenous, wanton.
I grab her shirt, ripping it open and ignoring the clatter of a dozen buttons scattering across the floor as I pull it down and toss it aside. Her hands are exploring my soaked body, searching every slope and curve of my muscles as I unbutton her pants. She finds my cock and gives it a squeeze as I slide her pants down her perfect legs as far as I can go before she begins to kick them off. She has no patience for this, just like me. Her hand begins to stroke my shaft as I pull her tank top over her head. She lets go and we both laugh before kissing again. She begins to kiss my neck, grabbing for my cock again. I lean back my head and enjoy the euphoric sensation.
LEFT ALIVE (Zombie series Box Set): Books 1-6 of the Post-apocalyptic zombie action and adventure series Page 25