Zombie Overload (Book 3): Learning To Live

by C. M. Wright

  I ask him what he had said and he responds with, "I love you, Baby. I love you so much."

  I know that isn't what he had really said, but as his tongue runs across my upper lip, I forget all about it.

  His hands trace every inch of my body and his lips follow. My hands do their own exploring, tracing the hard muscles on his arms, his chest, and his amazing butt. His muscles tighten and ripple with every movement.

  Soon, both of us are panting and gasping, our movements desperate and frenzied. Jake moves his body above me, pressing his hips against mine, and I can feel he's more than ready.

  I freeze and Jake throws himself off me when a loud snore sounds from the living room. I look at Jake, confused, because I don't understand why Jake would act as though what we had been doing was wrong. Jake gives a light chuckle as he recovers from the startling sound from the other room and moves back on top of me. He seems to forget about it quickly enough, as he lowers himself on me.

  I take a lot longer to forget it.

  Jake straightens his arms, pushing himself up, and looks down at me. I run my hands up his muscled arms and down his back. Raising my head, I kiss him right on the left side of his well-toned chest. Then I lay my head back onto the pillow and allow my arms to fall out to each side of the bed.

  Jake grinds himself against me, preparing to enter me-but first he brings his head down, pressing his tongue into my mouth. As he raises his head back up, I raise my left arm.

  And smash him in the head with a thick glass ashtray that had been on the bedside table.

  Chapter Forty

  The brain-bashing doesn't knock Jake out, but it damn sure hurts him. He rolls off of me and collapses on the other side of the bed-holding his head, screaming and cussing me. I grab the sheet and toga-wrap it around me as I stand on one foot.

  All the commotion Jake is making sends Will running. He slams the door open and it crashes into the wall. He looks from Jake's naked body to my own semi-naked body, wrapped in only a sheet. I watch as hurt, pain, fear, and anger wash over his face in waves.

  "You swore to me you wouldn't touch her. I'm going to kill you, you son-of-a-bitch!" he shouts at Jake.

  My own fear-filled eyes gush with tears as I look at him.

  "Will, I'm sorry. I didn't know," I say softly, scared and ashamed.

  With a half growl-half roar, Will charges for Jake, accidentally bumping me as he goes past. I hop around trying to regain my balance, but end up on my ass anyway. I struggle to get back up, but with only one foot, and thoroughly tangled up in the sheet-it's almost freakin' impossible!

  I can hear grunts and the dull thuds of punches being connected, and I just know Jake is going to hurt Will-seriously hurt him. The table lamp on the other side crashes to the floor, the window busts out, and the other side of the bed is slammed to the floor, its frame no match against two very pissed-off grown men.

  I crawl to the dresser by the door and use it to help myself up. I look over just as Jake's naked body is thrown across the bed, Will's fist still extended, blood dripping from his knuckles.

  Jake doesn't move. Apparently, Jake is no match for my very pissed-off husband. This isn't the first time Will has bested Jake. Such a difference in body-types but I guess what they say is true-"the bigger they are, the harder the fall."

  I jerk my eyes from Jake to Will. Will is panting hard and the rage inside him is still very, very high. I glance back at Jake and Will lets out a snarl. I jump and watch as Will flings the blanket on Jake, covering his nakedness, as if that's what I was looking at. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't even interested in that! I just can't believe Will knocked his ass out...again!

  "Will," I softly call and hold my hand out to him.

  His head raises and his eyes flash to me. He moves around the bed, his body trembling with anger. He starts to move past my outstretched hand and I lower my arm, sick with fear.

  He hates me! I just lost my husband.

  I drop my head and sob.

  Suddenly, his arms surround me and he pulls me to him tight. With a loud sob of relief, I wrap my arms around him, repeating "I'm so sorry" over and over. He shushes me and runs one hand up and down my back, the other firmly on my hip.

  "I'm the one who's sorry. God, Canada! I could have killed you!" His eyes show how deeply tortured he is.

  "Will, no more. It's ok. I'm ok, and honestly, I understand. I'm sorry, too. For everything, but especially for the way I've acted around Jake. Please forgive me?"

  "Of course, I do. But please-for the love of God!-please stop. I can't handle much more," he pleads with me.

  "I'll stop. It won't be too hard for me now, after what he's done," I tell him.

  He kisses me gently, but deeply-and to my surprise-lifts me in his arms, carrying me easily to the living room. Sitting on the sofa, he settles me on his lap, buries his hand in my hair and pulls me toward him. His lips crush against mine and the intense, overwhelming feeling of love for him makes me weak, stealing my breath away. I pull back, gasping for air.

  I stare into Will's eyes, looking for any hint of hatred toward me.

  "Will―"

  "Canada, just tell me one thing, did you and Jake have sex?"

  "No. Very close, though, Will. But no. I remembered everything before it got that far," I tell him.

  "What happened? How did you remember?" he asks me.

  "Yeah, Canada. How did you remember?"

  Our heads whip toward the bedroom door where Jake is leaning against the door frame. He has his pants on, but no shirt. He's holding the hideous green nightgown, swiping at the blood pouring from his nose and dabbing at the cuts on his face.

  Will's body jerks as he sucks in a breath, his anger still very much at a high level. His body tightens again, and he begins to lift me off his lap. I throw my arms around him, begging him to stop. He gives me a hard, cold look of betrayal. I insist I just want the fighting to stop, even though I fully agree Jake deserves the ass-beating.

  "But it's done. No more!" I cry out to both of them.

  Will glares at Jake for a few more moments and then gives in to my pleas to stop. I wrap my arms around Will's neck and tell him "thank you" and "I love him." He scoots us against the backrest of the sofa and then looks at me, repeating his question of how I remembered.

  "Well, a few times I felt like I knew you more than Jake. Seeing you in pain made me hurt for you, but I didn't know why. Then when we were in the bedroom―" Will's body tightens up again and I stop abruptly.

  He closes his eyes and breathes in and out a few times, then tells me to go on. I hesitate, but he lightly squeezes my waist and nods, so I continue.

  "When we were―we heard you snore and something bothered me about it. I didn't know what...I couldn't come up with any reason. Then when I―then I saw Jake's chest and something was missing. A tattoo of a lion." I unbutton Will's shirt and pull the left side of the material away. There, right where it should be, was the inked lion.

  "When I saw that missing, it's like pieces of a puzzle kept clicking into place. Pieces that were hidden. Lost. And everything came back. I remembered the man's chest that lion belonged on. I remembered you only snore if you're really exhausted or sick. I remembered you are my husband and how very much I love you. Why, Will? Why did you let me believe I was married to Jake?"

  Will gives a "Screw you" look to Jake, and with disgust, tells me exactly what Jake had told him. I look at Jake and then at Will.

  "Will! Why would you believe a damn word Jake says? Ever?"

  "Hell, I don't know! All I could think about was you, losing you. That's all I cared about. I just wanted to believe Jake wasn't that evil, wouldn't do something like this when your life was on the line. Plus, he took advantage of my guilt."

  I look at Jake, who's sitting on a recliner; leaning forward, head down, and still trying to control the bleeding.

  "Jake, you are one sick prick! How dare you? How could you? What the hell is your problem? You make me sick as hell! I don't tr
ust you now and I don't even like you, anymore. Just stay the hell away from me!"

  He gives me a hurt look but this time, it doesn't work. It just makes me angrier, but apparently, I have much more anger for Jake about to be released.

  Will clears his throat and says, "Well, since we are getting things out in the open, let's talk about what happened when we got to her grandmother's. Jake."

  I turn my head back to Jake just as his head jerks up to meet Will's eyes.

  "Ok. What about it, Will?" Jake asks, sounding confused.

  "Well, when I was trapped in the kitchen, I seem to recall someone look down the hall into the kitchen, and then walk away. Wouldn't know anything about that now would ya, Jake?"

  More rage than I can handle burns inside me and only one thought replays itself in my mind, "I'm going to kill you!"

  I fling myself out of Will's arms and grab the gun lying on the coffee table in front of us. I sit up, the gun pointing straight at Jake's head.

  Jake's eyes widen and his face pales. He flings his arms up and begs me not to shoot him.

  "Canada, please! I didn't see Will in the kitchen. I swear! I only saw the zombies. I wouldn't have let Will die like that. Honest! Put the gun down, Canada. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I inherited something evil from my dad, I don't know!"

  My hands are shaking. No, not from fear. Anger. Deadly anger.

  Will tells me to put the gun down. Jake begs me to put it down. Will tells me again to put it down. I glance quickly back at Will.

  "Why in the hell would you want me to put it down? You should be happy to have him dead," I tell him.

  "I would be happy to have him dead, but not by your hand. I don't want you to have to live with this, Canada. You can't―" he stops abruptly.

  I look back at him again and his eyes are focused on the bedroom we all just left.

  "Will? What's―" I stop and look at the bedroom too. Jake jumps up from the chair and looks back at the same place we are. I grab the other gun off the coffee table and hand one to Will. He heard first what Jake and I didn't. Probably because I was too intent on killing and Jake was too intent on living.

  Will stands, and Jake goes over to a small table against the same wall where I crashed into the hutch earlier, and picks up his gun. They both slowly make their way to the bedroom door and stand on each side. Peeking around the door frame, Jake enters a few steps, grabs the door handle, and tries to quietly shut it.

  Unfortunately, that's the same damn door that squeaked earlier.

  The outside of the house turns into groaning, moaning, banging madness! The undead are doing everything they can to get in. Windows all around the house are smashing, their glass showering the floor like pieces of ice.

  Jake yells from across the room, "Will, we have to get upstairs. The back door has no porch. it's got a wheelchair ramp." Oh, shit!

  Will nods and Jake comes straight at me on a full-out run and bends just before he gets to me. He scoops me up and I fall over his shoulder, butt in the air and my face eye-level with his own butt. I start to protest but when I hear the back door crash open and the moan, groans, and grunts get louder, I start hitting Jake on the ass with my fists, screaming "Go! Go! Go!"

  Jake runs toward the stairs, and then up them as fast as he can with my weight slowing him down. I put my hands on each of side his hips and push up so I can search for Will. He's right behind us.

  And then suddenly, he's not!

  "Jake! Oh my God! Jake! Will fell. Help him!" Jake stops and turns enough to see Will lying at the bottom of the stairs. Just when I think he's going to leave him, he drops me on the top step and runs down.

  Jake's only halfway down when the zombies appear in the living room. Will is only about ten or fifteen feet from the one in the lead, and he's not moving. He's just lying there, helpless. Jake's not going to make it! I pull myself up using the banister, and aim my gun. I can't really shoot. I could hit Will...or Jake. Funny how that didn't bother me a few minutes ago.

  The first zombie reaches Will and just before he puts his nasty teeth on my husband, Jake fires into its head. Jake's still running down the stairs, but now he's firing, too. A huge ball of fear is stuck in my throat. I don't see how Will can possibly make it out of this!

  A group of six zombies come for Will at the same time and Jake only gets one of them down. But now Jake is at the bottom with Will and is trying to get Will to wake up, nudging him with his foot, screaming at him-but Will still doesn't move.

  As the zombies move closer, Jake lifts his gun...and the most horrifying sound echoes up the stairs. Click-click. Jake's gun is empty!

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jake throws the gun at the nearest zombie, then grabs the back of Will's shirt with two hands, pulling him up the stairs as fast as he can. They make it up about six stairs, Will's feet still in the danger zone, when Jake trips and falls. He falls on the step, not down them, but it's enough of a delay to allow one of the undead to grab hold of Will's foot.

  I scream at Jake and he looks back. He grabs Will under both arms and tugs as hard as he can. Will's foot is pulled out of the zombie's hands, which leave gashes that match the ones on my throat. I don't breathe even once until he's up on the top landing, several feet from the stairs, and in my arms.

  "Thank you, Jake, thank you," I sob, holding my husband tightly to me. Jake nods to me then sits on the top step with his back to us, breathing hard, his attention on the large-and getting larger-crowd at the bottom.

  The noise is almost deafening. These zombies can make even the toughest person tremble with fear. I check Will for injuries from the fall and find a nice-sized goose egg forming on his head above his right ear.

  Oh good lord! Don't let him have amnesia, now.

  I desperately try to wake him, but he doesn't respond. Now I'm getting scared! Fine! Amnesia I can handle, just don't let him die!

  As I continue trying to wake Will, I hear a noise to the left of me. I turn my head and see a man and woman at the end of the long dark hallway.

  Slowly, they come toward us. I can't tell if they are among the living or the undead. They don't seem to be rushing-in the way a zombie rushes, anyway-and I can't hear any of the verbal sounds the zombies are known for making.

  "Hello? Are you alright?" I call to them.

  Jake whips around when he hears me and rushes to my side.

  The odd, older couple keep coming, slowly.

  "Jake? What the hell?" I whisper to him.

  "I don't know. Let's get you and Will in that room over there right now, just in case," he whispers back.

  Not wanting to bother trying to stand, I crawl as fast as I can into the bedroom next to us. Jake grabs Will under the arms and quickly drags him after me, never taking his eyes off the couple still making their way down the hall.

  Jake lays Will down and walks back to the door.

  "Jake, no! Just stay here with us. Forget them! Shut the door. If they're alive they'll open it by turning the damn knob...or knock...or something!"

  I desperately try to keep him inside. If something happens to Jake, Will and I are screwed. Will is still out and I can't walk, but Jake ignores me.

  He runs out the door, and the next thing I see, is his body being slammed to the floor halfway back into the room. I finally see the odd couple clearly.

  The man is hunched over like someone who has a back issue and is wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and suspenders. He has a hearing aid in one ear and looks like he's in his eighties.

  The woman looks as though she's about the same age. She has a bowl haircut, wearing a very old-lady looking dress, and has on thick pop-bottle glasses.

  They both launch themselves on top of Jake. Definitely zombies! Jake, flat on his back, lifts his leg, kicking the man in the face. His false teeth fly out and clatter to the wooden floor in the hall. The man's body follows his teeth, crumbling to the floor.

  I grab my gun and aim. Jake keeps lifting his head as he fights the old lady, who is
doing her damnedest to tear into his flesh. There is no way I can get a clear shot.

  "Jake! Down!" I yell.

  Jake immediately drops his head to the floor and I take my shot. Right in her nasty head.

  The old man is crab-walking back to Jake. Jake doesn't see him as he's still trying to remove the woman's corpse from his body. The man opens his toothless mouth and I consider letting him gum on him for awhile just for revenge, but instead, I shoot...just as Jake sits up.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I scream in horror at what I've done, but the zombie is still alive and still heading for Jake. Taking another shot as I crawl toward Jake, I kill the son-of-a-bitch for good.

  Crawling faster now, I make it to Jake's side and take a look out the hall. I see more movement at the other end, this one making it well-known that it's no longer among the living. Terror sends tremors through my body but I force myself to focus.

  I lie on my back and use my good foot to shove at the woman. Once I get her out the way of the door, I grab Jake and pull as hard as I can. This shit is hard as hell to do when you're flat on your ass.

  I hear the grunts and growls of the zombie and then I'm really startled when I hear more than one. And they're frikken close!

  Once I clear Jake's legs from the door, I roll him out of the way. Taking my injured foot, which is the closest one to the door, I slam the door shut. My screams of pain compete with the roars of the undead now beating on the door.

  Pushing the pain back, I frantically search the room for something to block the door with, and see a long, thick, wooden dresser against the wall closest to the door. Crawling to the dresser, I think how damn hard this is going to be one-footed.

  I try to push, pull, and punch it. Ok, so the punching obviously wasn't going to work, but I really needed to do that.

  Finally, I remember how I would move heavy furniture back home, when I had no help available.

  I sit on my butt on the floor at the opposite end of the dresser and push with my good foot. I have to keep doing one side, then the other to make up for the worthless foot, but I get it there. Damn! This thing is really heavy!