by Rose Francis
He had said, “I wouldn’t do that to you” to her once, but it was for something she would like to think most men wouldn’t do. But play with a girl’s heart? She had seen that one play out far too often; many men didn’t seem to have a problem with that. It seemed to boost their ego to have some poor girl longing for them and unable to leave them, even if for their own good.
Serena let out a heavy breath.
She had no idea what game Steven was playing. She understood that he was quenching some long-sitting thirst, so she suspected that he would take her until he felt like he’d had his fill of her, but then what? They had gone far beyond a superficial friendship, but in the new world, what would they be? And why the hell did she even care?
Serena wasn’t sure if her vulnerability was exacerbated by their circumstances or not, considering that half the world had collapsed and loved ones had been rapidly snuffed out, but she figured that those factors had to have something to do with how she was feeling right now; after all, Steven had saved her. In this new, confusing world rapidly degenerating to survival basics, Steven was taking her to a place where she could continue to survive and flourish.
He was her hero in a way—although she would never tell him that—so of course her emotions and thoughts were clouded.
CHAPTER EIGHT: CONFESSIONS
Steven left Serena for the driver’s seat after their third intimate session and began driving again.
“We’re not that far away, are we?” Serena asked after they had been driving for a while.
“No, but we’ll stay near a body of water until I’ve had enough of you so we can wash off our sins and get started again. But you probably already guessed that.” He paused for a few moments. “You have no idea how long I’ve had to hold this back, Serena, how hard it has been for me—or maybe you do. In any case, I don’t know how long it’ll take to get it out of my system, but we’ll get you to safety soon enough.”
Serena didn’t know how she felt about him warning her of his impending seductions.
It seemed that he wanted to say more—the air felt heavy with unspoken words, but he remained quiet.
Eventually, the vehicle started slowing down for another stop. Serena guessed that they had reached the body of water.
She heard him close the door as he left the vehicle for what she assumed was a bath, and then jumped as she heard a shot.
She immediately panicked, worried about his safety, and she ached for a window to look out of.
She knew that Steven was far more than a capable marksman and had most likely killed another Morph, but what if someone had actually shot at him? She didn’t know how to drive the APC!
Serena also knew that not being able to drive wasn’t the only reason she was worried.
“Steven, are you okay?” she shouted, fighting the urge to leave the vehicle and check for herself. She knew that he would be furious if she did, and would probably use it as an excuse to fuck her roughly and angrily.
“Serena, stay inside!” he shouted, and the relief washing over her almost immobilized her, as all of her muscles relaxed nearly to the point of turning her into a blob. He was safe.
She sharply remembered how much danger he was in whenever he left the APC—from both the Morphs and careless, trigger-happy surviving humans.
An ache came over her heart as she thought about losing him, and she put her hand over her chest as if that would stop the sudden, piercing pain.
Transference, she thought. From your husband to him. Besides, you’ve known him for four years or so anyway—of course you care about him a bit. Plus, who else have you got now?
Serena had no idea of the status of her scattered family members, but she suddenly realized that she had already accepted them as dead; most of the population seemed to be, although she had no idea of actual numbers.
She decided she would ask Steven about it when he returned.
She dropped her hand from her chest and took in a deep breath.
She wasn’t a zombie—she still had her brains to help her out of whatever mess they had gotten into with each other; talking about concrete, logical things would keep her feeling like some semblance of her old self.
When Steven joined her in the back of the vehicle, damp and clean, he asked her if she was ready for her turn.
She nodded and got ready to follow him outside.
“I can bathe you if you want,” he offered in a voice uncharacteristically tender, and she quickly declined, shaking her head vigorously as she discarded her clothes and slipped into the water.
She tried not to look back at the burning body of the Morph in the distance.
When she was finished, Steven toweled her like before, but he didn’t leave her to put on her clothes in private this time, joining her as she stepped back into the vehicle.
She wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so she sat there with the towel wrapped around her. She definitely wasn’t changing in front of him—despite the fact that he had already touched, quite intimately, every part of her she was trying to hide.
“Do you guys have any estimates of survivors?” she asked him, towel and body pulled tight, her legs firmly together. She was glad that he was sitting opposite her, even though his eyes had sort of glazed over at her question. “Has the world been infected?” she asked when he still didn’t answer.
She started preparing to ask another question when he finally opened his mouth, and then went on to answer almost every question that had come to her mind over the past few weeks.
“About two months ago, Patient Zero—a voluntary lab rat for the intended viral weapon—got a doctor. His infection lasted only about ten minutes, but that was all the time it took for the now-infected doctor to go on and infect others. It took a while before people knew what was happening or what to do about it, and in that time, a few more doctors got infected, as well as other military personnel—amongst them, a few super soldiers. The super soldiers were responsible for bringing the virus out into the public. By the time you guys got word of the outbreak, the military had already spent a week trying to track them down, but they didn’t find all of them. What they found was the aftermath of their presence. Turns out, after decades of zombie movies and video games, most people don’t actually have what it takes to destroy what looks like another person face to face. That’s part of the problem—the bodies start to become contagious within an hour, but the person’s physical appearance doesn’t start changing for a while—they don’t look non-human until twenty-four hours have passed. Before then, the infected person looks the same as anyone who has come down with a really bad flu. So it spread fast. Luckily, so far, it is contained in North America. But chances are that Central and South America aren’t far behind. And the Caribbean.
“All planes were stopped from leaving here by day three, so I don’t think the virus has reached Europe, Africa, Asia etc. unless some asshole with a private jet has taken someone infected with him. Anyway, I’ll get the updates once we get to the base—my intelligence on the matter is over two weeks old. In the meantime, some of us got a chance to go out and bring back our loved ones, while taking out as many of the Morphs as possible. Not all of us, however—only those of us who are immune.”
Serena felt her brow wrinkling. Did he mean…?
“Anyway, once we get to the base, it’ll probably be all over between you and me,” he said. “But you’ll be safe there. And I’ll be relatively safe, even out there, but who knows what could happen?”
Serena couldn’t resist interrupting this time. “Wait, how are you safe while out there? It’s like you’d be going to war again!”
He nodded his head. “True, I’m not safe from wayward bullets, I admit. But the Morphs can’t get me.” He paused. “Like I said, I am immune. There aren’t many of us who are. And the government didn’t want to risk sending super soldiers who aren’t immune out there, in case they get turned. Turned super soldiers—and even regular soldiers—are among the deadliest if they survive a fe
w nights, and they found that out the hard way.”
“How many of you—immune—are there?”
“We’re not completely sure, but at last count it was five—and that’s just out of a section of the military population; I have no doubt that there are a lot more like us out there. Anyway, three of us are responsible for bringing back supplies and survivors while killing as many of the Morphs as we can, while two have been held for studies. Then at some point…” He paused again. “They’re gonna call us all back, and just start bombing—survivors among the Morphs included.”
“Tell me more about Patient Zero,” Serena said, not ready to let go of the possibility of getting more concrete facts about their circumstances. “How did he or she get the original infection?”
Steven shook his head. “I’ve already said too much. To answer your original question, at last count, the turned was rapidly closing in on half the population. Probably at three quarters by now.”
Serena did the math in her head. Just a quarter of a country of over three hundred million were still regular humans? Impossible. She couldn’t fathom such a horror.
Then she heard Steven sigh, almost as if in slow motion.
“He really loved you, you know,” Steven said. “I mean, he really did. Despite the way he talked to you sometimes, and the way you might have felt he was treating you harshly, Gregory put you before everything, even himself; he thought about you first. Everything he did, he was trying to make sure that you were happy and felt safe, and he lashed out at times when he felt like you didn’t get what he was trying to do for you.”
Steven’s eyes seemed to cloud, but he quickly looked away, and before Serena knew what was happening, he had disappeared into the driver’s seat, out of her view.
Serena knew that she had gotten away from what he had probably intended to make another conquering session of sexual submission, but she also knew that it wasn’t for long.
CHAPTER NINE: INSATIABLE
Steven sat in the driver’s seat, mulling over everything that he had told Serena. He had wanted to confess that he had more than an inkling of what Gregory had felt for her, and that he now understood the mindless sense of devotion he had seen displayed by his best friend and others, but never quite got until recently.
He had never felt so drawn to another human being the way Serena hypnotized him.
After their first few lovemaking sessions, he had started up the APC, but began heading in the opposite direction, away from the sanctuary, and he realized that he had lost his mind—he had completely lost sight of his initial mission.
The truth was, he didn’t want to feel like he was that much closer to having to let go of her, and he wanted to make sure he could spend more time with Serena before he had to give her up, possibly forever.
Steven knew that he scared her—he knew that she was helpless to him whenever he decided he wanted to use her body. And although Serena hadn’t done anything to torment him beyond sitting in front of him, dripping wet in a towel, he felt tortured by her still, far beyond his physical and sexual attraction to her.
He now had the power to take her anytime he wanted, but it wasn’t enough; something else was missing—some other part of her he wanted—and he wasn’t sure what it was or how to get it. Serena was still holding something back from him beyond her warm mouth, and it was all that he could focus on. He needed it. Wanted it. Had to have it. But first, he had to figure out what it was. Somehow, she hadn’t completely surrendered to him—he hadn’t been able to rip all of her power from her and claim her completely. Perhaps when he did, he would get his own mind back.
*
Steven needed to go on a walk—no, a jog.
He wished that he could go for a run like he used to before the outbreak, almost every day at six a.m. when he was home on his four- to six-week vacation.
He would throw on his T-shirt and jogging shorts to clear his mind and calm his spirit for the day with the endurance required for that five-mile run.
The exercise helped him forget what he had left behind—the missions, the plotting, the carnage—and the endorphins helping him get started on a good mood for the day. Away at work, his brain was cluttered with duty, but at home, on reprieve from it, his brain was free to focus on other things.
Sometimes he ran to shake off a torturous dream he had awakened to find had deceived him into feeling Serena’s presence. The fog clearing from his brain, he realized that Serena hadn’t actually put her arms around him while sleeping next to him, and that she hadn’t admitted she wanted him or found a moment to kiss him in secret, after all.
Steven ran to shake off all the silent tortures of not being able to have her, his nagging desires. Sometimes, he succeeded, but on other days, he still had trouble getting Serena out of his mind and resisting the need to find an excuse to see or talk to her.
He knew that he was only digging himself into a deeper hole, yet the lack of contact with Serena almost seemed as dangerous as being in contact with her. He longed to hear her voice and see her eyes light up with that amazing smile of hers.
She didn’t laugh often; in fact, he had only seen her let go completely once, and he had gotten so lost in the moment, that everything else around him had dropped away, including the presence of Gregory.
He needed to see her laugh like that again. His heart ached for her, and longed to be reason she sparkled. He wanted to reach the part of her that seemed sad and remained isolated—even with Gregory. He wanted to let her know that she was safe and loved unconditionally.
Steven remembered one day in particular that he had run eight miles thinking about her. He had awakened angry that morning as his dream disintegrated; he was furious with Gregory, beyond all reason. Gregory had hurt Serena in his dream this time, and upon awakening, the details escaped him, but the emotions remained. He had wanted to rip Gregory’s throat out for what he did to her in that dream—for breaking her, for making her cry.
In reality, he knew that Gregory loved her—it made him ill how much. Gregory was careful with her for the most part, and he tried to show her how much she meant to him. He made grand and small gestures to make her feel special—surprise gifts and dates. And Gregory still hadn’t stopped yapping to him about his love for her.
Steven knew that the right thing to do was deal with his emotions the best way he could: support the two of them as a couple, sincerely wish them well, and act on it by keeping a respectful distance, while perhaps still trying to nail down a serious relationship of his own—surely that would help. But the feelings he had for Serena didn’t follow logic. Steven had to use all of his skills in controlling his face and body language whenever the happy couple displayed any affection between them, whenever Gregory wrapped his arm around her or held her hand. Whenever they kissed. Steven had to do everything in his power not to look disgusted—or worse yet, pained. Or longing.
What was wrong with him? What made him feel like he had a right to her? Where had all of these feelings come from?
He had been aware of an infatuation slowly rising in him for a while, but one day it slammed into him at full speed, and there was no going back.
He ached with longing to feel her against him and see more of her beyond the physical sense, but he had to settle for welcome and goodbye hugs. Why?
Steven quickened his walking pace, trying not to imagine Serena in the back of the APC, waiting for him in only a towel.
He needed to fight, longed for a fight. He needed to work off some of his energy somehow, because it was back again—the burning desire to possess Serena once more. He felt like he was losing more than his mind.
Steven was so distracted by his thoughts and memories, that he completely missed his instinct warning him of a creature ignoring the searing pain of sunlight to go beyond stalking him with its eyes, to galloping toward him.
For the second time since the outbreak, Steven felt a temporary debilitating shock.
The first time it hit him, he had encountered his best
friend, and he ended up sparing Gregory’s diseased body a bullet to the head. But this time, his body reanimated quickly, and the lack of emotional connection he had for the massive rabid gorilla headed his way set his body into motion.
The beast was as beautiful as it was hideous. The way its clunky frame still managed to move gracefully fascinated Steven—the only sign of the ape’s disease the red eyes and purply patches on its bottom half.
Steven knew that only one shot was needed, but he shot twice—both bullets hitting the gorilla in the head, and the ambush command that had been sent by its brain long ago propelled its body forward for just a few seconds more before it collapsed, dead.
The energy in Steven surged.
He realized that leaving the APC looking for a fight was probably the worst decision he could have made. Or would it have made a difference?
Adrenalin and testosterone pumping through him, exceeding all previous levels, he could only come up with one way to find release from the raging forces within him.
Steven went to Serena again, entering the back of the APC with barely contained anticipation.
When his eyes locked with hers, he saw the familiar alarm in them.
He wondered if she would get used to him at some point and no longer look like some trapped animal.
He would certainly take the time to find out.
*
Steven got angrier and angrier at himself as the days went by.
No matter how many times he took Serena, he wanted more—he couldn’t stop wanting more.
He had thought that after days and days of making her his by using her for his carnal and mental satisfaction, the power she had over him would fade, but every time he looked at her some time after fucking her, she looked untouchable again, despite her eyes having widened into dark pools of fear or surrender not long before.
She was driving him crazy with whatever she was withholding—a new toy he couldn’t get used to, since he still hadn’t figured out how it worked.