Controlling the Dead

by Annie Walls

  He pumps his hips into me, letting me feel the seam of his jeans in an intimate place. A soft moan escapes my throat as I rock into him to keep the connection. Coming up to tease my lips with his own, his hair falls against my face as I fumble with his belt. Jerking and pulling, I huff out a frustrated breath. His hands cover mine to help out. “Big bad belt is going to get you,” he says against my lips.

  “Shut up and take it off.”

  He grins and takes a step back. The grin falls when he peers into my face, no doubt my arousal is written all over it, and then his gaze travels down to my spread legs. His fingers follow his eyes up to my face and he latches onto the back of my neck, tracing my lips with his thumb. I bite the pad of it before sucking it into my mouth. He audibly gulps and sucks in a breath. “I have to warn you. I’m probably not going to last.”

  “Me either.”

  Grabbing under my thighs, he picks me up. I wrap my arms around his neck and weave my fingers through his hair. His hands move to cup my rear, and I roll myself into his abdomen. His eyes darken when he glances down at my blatancy. I bite and nibble at his jaw, bringing my lips to his again and the next thing I know, my back is flat on a mattress. His mouth travels down my stomach, running his hand up and between my breasts, the other strokes down the outside of my thigh. It stops at my knee, opening my legs. I lift my hips, or maybe they do it on their own, as he nibbles and places open-mouthed kisses on my tattoo there.

  My skin flushes hot as my thighs tremble. “You’re a tease.”

  “You like it.”

  I agree breathlessly as he continues to explore my body, finding my tender spots. Catching my nipples in his mouth, his body shivers in his attempt to go slow and revel in it. Leaning up, he puts his face into my pelvic, breathing hard.

  His mouth trails down below my pelvic. I spread my legs wider and squirm as his hair tickles my skin. A smile forms against my inner thigh. Gripping his hair and scalp, I shudder at the warmth of his mouth. He watches me with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before, and one I want to see time and time again. True to my word, it doesn’t take long as the orgasm bursts from my lower regions. The sounds from my throat sync as he entices me through it. It’s all the more passionate because it’s Rudy. He grips and kisses the inside of my thighs as I come.

  Feeling like jelly, I sit up as he stands and I grab his belt and grin as I unbuckle it, efficiently this time, kissing around his navel. He smiles down at me with a hooded gaze, his bottom lip between his teeth.

  “That’s right. I made it my bitch,” I taunt, licking him before jerking his jeans down.

  He laughs as he pulls away. My chest will burst open any minute watching him as he unabashedly strips. I trace the tattoo on his outer, upper thigh and could trace it all day, but he pushes me down. He follows me to the bed and grabs my hips, rolling us over. I lift up, but he guides me, gliding me down onto him. I suck in a breath as he groans. He sits up and puts his forehead to mine, neither of us really believing this is happening. I squeeze around him and his eyes pop open. “Easy,” he huffs against my cheek.

  Gripping around me with one hand and wrapping my locks around his other, he lifts me, obvious in wanting control, so I let him have it. My head falls back as I move with him. “Yes, yes,” I whisper, rolling my hips and squeezing. I’m gratified as I hear him gasp, and he picks up our pace. Pulling my head back farther by his grip around my hair, he nibbles and bites my exposed neck. He grinds me into him before gripping my back and flipping us. He throws one of my legs over his shoulder and braces himself on his arms. The angle allows him to thrust deeper and my back arches off the bed. The burning in my belly soon turns into warmth, building within, and eventually explodes out, not only in pleasure, but love. Our movements are erratic as he buries his face into my neck, groaning and shuddering with his loss of control.

  I let out a breath, realizing we’re both sweaty and on a bare mattress in a bare bedroom. The bedroom we did not set up earlier. This one is closer to the bathroom, however. I should probably feel dirty, but I don’t. Meeting his gaze, we both burst into giddy laughter.

  “That’s what you call easy?” I ask, trying to keep my legs from shaking.

  “Heat of the moment. Nothing with you is ever easy, Darlin’.” He pulls me up from the bed. “Come on, let’s get in the hot water while we can.”

  I grin. “And fish my gun out of the toilet.”

  *

  A loud knock on the front door wakes me, and I roll over, groaning. “It feels like we just went to sleep.”

  Rudy sits up, runs his hand through his hair and grins. “We did.”

  His face lights up even more when I return his grin and sit up with an ache in my lower belly. A good ache, but at least we made it to the right bedroom, eventually. I groan and lie down, pulling a pillow over my head. “Tell them to go away.”

  “How do you know who it is?”

  I remove the pillow with raised brows and he laughs. “You have a point.” A long minute passes and another knock sounds. Neither one of us moves to go get it and we laugh.

  He holds his fist over his hand in the classic paper, rock, scissors move. Still grinning, I do the same. “Ready?” We both count, pumping our fists and throwing out our hands simultaneously.

  “Ha!” I chop my scissors through his paper, but he smiles and grabs me to kiss him before standing and hopping into jeans like a pro.

  He stops in the doorway and sighs, “Should have known you’d pick scissors again.”

  I laugh as his footsteps pad down the hallway and the front door opens. Gwen’s voice and Glinda’s accent cut through the house. The word breakfast echoes between my ears, and I shoot out of bed like a rocket, ignoring the pain of movement and dashing down the hall to the bathroom.

  Looking in the mirror, my face is bright and my lips are swollen. I clean up and feel good about doing so. It’s crazy, the little things people took for granted in the old life. As I’m dressing, my panties sting some sensitive skin. In the mirror, I see a red mark in the shape of a handprint adorns an ass cheek. I laugh trying to remember when that happened. Couldn’t have been that long ago.

  When I get to the kitchen, Gwen is setting out food from a little wagon she must have used to carry everything over. Sam, Reece, and Glinda sit at the table chatting about Nashville. Rudy leans against the counter drinking out of a mug. I point to it. “Is that—?”

  “Coffee? Yes.” He slides a thermos over next to an empty mug. I let out an excited moan. He takes an interest to the inside of his mug, hiding his amusement. Everyone falls silent at the table, looking to me.

  “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had coffee?” They blink and the guys go back to their conversation. Glinda watches me, but I ignore her scrutiny by pouring coffee and letting the steam hit my nose.

  “Kan, I brought some things you might need for in here. Including the mugs and a coffee pot,” Gwen says and winks. “You’ll have to get food and things from the market. They tell you how they do it?”

  “You mean that orientation thing? Only to the families, I think. Martin just gave us the rundown of the town and told us we have a few days to settle.” I pile my plate with fruit, hopping on the counter.

  “That’s strange. They usually do a full orientation with blood work and physicals.”

  “Oh! That. Reece and I got letters in tha mailbox. Yew probably got some, too, Suga.”

  Gwen laughs at my expression. “They send out important newsletters and things. Better check it.” Rudy bumps himself from the counter and disappears through the door. This is too weird.

  I hold up a finger at Glinda. “Wait a minute. How’d you know to check it?”

  “I didn’t. Saw tha guy put something in there. I was kinda shocked.”

  “I better check mine, too,” Sam chimes in. “Not that it matters, if we are going to Nashville.”

  Rudy strolls in a minute later with two envelopes in his hand, and gives me one with my name on it. Openin
g it, it’s indeed an appointment for a blood work screening and physical check-up. It tells me the time and date, and where to go along with a map of the town.

  Rudy tosses his on the counter after scanning it. “I think we should make our own community.” His statement silences everyone.

  It’s not a bad idea really, but… “Well, it wouldn’t be as fancy as this place. I mean, blood work?” I wave the letter like a fan.

  “You lived by yourself for four years and survived. If we keep it small, we wouldn’t draw too many famished.”

  Gwen has a serious expression. “I really think you should reconsider that. You’d all be a great asset here.” No one says anything else, because truthfully, neither Rudy nor I trust this place very much. It’s all too good to be true.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A few days later I’m riding with Rudy in his truck to Nashville. We’ve taken two vehicles. The other holds Reece, Sam, Bunyan, and Thomas. We decided not to take anyone else per the council’s suggestion, much to the council’s dismay, but we assure them we’ll be back and help get other survivors from another compound.

  Sketching a canyon landscape, I’m clean, rested, and oversexed, but it won’t last long.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He cuts his eyes to glance at me. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Did you ever think about trying to find your mother?”

  “Julie tell you about her?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought about finding her all the time, but it would only bring me down. So, I never did.” He pauses, “I spoke to her, once. After she left. It was a few years later.” Shaking his head he continues, “I’ve never told anyone that.”

  “So she found you.”

  “No, Kan. She knew where I was if she ever really wanted to see me. And to tell you the truth, now that I’m grown and I’m not bitter about it, the last time I saw her she told me where I could find her, too. I never wanted to go back to where I grew up.” He grows somber, staring out the widow, but continues to tell me about where he grew up, about a half hour from New Orleans in a close-knit swamp community. He gets quiet again, lost in his own thoughts.

  I start sketching again, thinking this over. Eventually, I take his hand in mine.

  He smiles, “A swamp is a far cry from suburbia and clockwork mechanisms.”

  My body tenses, more in surprise than anything. There’s only one reason he’d mention clockwork mechanisms. “You’ve been to the house.”

  He nods, “Reece and I went to search for you after you were taken.” The cab gets silent and he glances at me. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

  “No. Just surprised is all. There’s barely anything left of it. I torched it.”

  “There was one room untouched by accelerant.”

  He’s right, I skipped over my dad’s office. “It wasn’t important at the time and I didn’t want to waste tequila. I needed it to be enough to make it unlivable. Were Nadine and Bridget there?”

  “The two women? No. No one was there. In fact, there was a dead body in the backyard. The guy Mac shot in the head.” He squeezes my hand.

  I should think about what fate might have brought Nadine and Bridget, but I can’t bring myself to give a shit.

  “Anyway, it was worth going just to see pictures of you as a child.” He shoots me a cocky grin.

  The day we spoke to each other about being cute kids comes back to me. He knew all along. I shake my head. I’m sure he saw way more pictures than that, but I don’t ask and he doesn’t bring it up again.

  Later that night, we make camp in Texas and come up with a plan for when we get to the community. We still have about a day until we get there.

  We are on the road in the early hours and drive into the night, only stopping in search of gas and for personal needs. It’s late at night before we stop about two hours from Nashville while Reece, Sam, Bunyan, and Thomas move on to the community, like they are back from the mission. In the morning, Rudy and I will drive and wait a few blocks from the community for one of them to come gets us and report how things are carrying on.

  We eat the last of our food stash from Arizona and I climb into the truck as Rudy strums his guitar on the mattress. His stubble has grown out in the past day, and dark circles ring his eyes from all the driving. I’m jet lagged myself. “I can drive tomorrow if you want.”

  He shrugs. “If you want, but once we get back to Arizona, I don’t want to go anywhere for awhile.”

  “I think we’ll have some down time. We also can’t make a pattern. We don’t want the revolutionists to figure out where we’ll go next. We have to be random. The timing has to be staggered, too.”

  He grins at the prospect of down time, and it’s contagious. What’s a life worth living and all that?

  I lie down and put my head on his leg, remembering the first time I ever had my head in his lap. He had been cleaning the nasty, infected gash on my scalp. My lips spread into a grin.

  *

  I wake up to darkness in the truck and something feels off. Thinking a zombie might have set off our noise trap made of nonperishable cans, I sit up and search for any movement outside the open vault doors, which we left open for a breeze. I strain to listen. Nothing. Just silence. Sweat trickles down my back. I lie down, and we are wrapped around each other again, even though it’s way too hot, and his soft breath blows on my forehead. I barely press my lips against his. “Rudy, something feels—”

  “I know, Darlin’.” He flips over on top of me. “I need you.” Everything turns desperate after that and I’m not sure why.

  *

  We park near the old warehouse I kept the zombies in. I wish they were still in there. They could be a little useful right now. There are none in sight. “If I find some zombies, we are bringing them,” I tell Rudy.

  “Good idea.”

  We gear up. Rudy straps his massive bow to his back. He has a shoulder holster with his guns, and he has another one and clips hidden. His hunting blade is sheathed in his boot. I have my pack on, complete with machete, guns and extra clips. I add my crossbow arrows to my makeshift holster on the side of my pack and carry the crossbow with five loaded, brightly colored arrows. These five happen to have purple and blue fletching. We both keep a lookout for any movement. The impending dread from last night hasn’t left either one of us.

  “You like it?” Rudy ask, glancing at the crossbow.

  I raise my brow. “You knew?”

  He smirks. “He’d been working on it for a while. Even before you were kidnapped.”

  “You should see it fly. Pretty powerful.” We start walking to a closer spot, moving quietly and taking in our surroundings.

  “If Mac made it, I’m sure it does, Darlin’.”

  “You’ll see it in action soon enough,” I beam. He grabs my hand and squeezes as he returns the grin.

  Rudy’s smile falters and he blinks as his hand goes slack. “K—” He trips over his feet and falls face first onto the pavement. My vision wavers as my heart skips.

  “Rudy?” My voice shakes. I immediately bend next to him as I start to tremble. Taking a deep breath, I reach for him when I see it. A tiny dart is barely visible on his neck because of his hair. A sting on my own neck soon follows. I pull out the dart and peer at it with blurry vision. Blinking my eyes, the world swims and I fall right on top of him. Footsteps come closer. Then nothing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I wake up groggy with a splitting pain in the front of my skull. My mouth is dry and stretches out in the corners as if I was gagged at some point. I’m on a cot, not tied up. This is good news. Bad news—I’m no longer armed and Rudy is nowhere in sight. I scan the room to see brick walls, a shut door, and a two-way mirror. The cot is the only furniture, and beneath me, the cot’s blanket is in a tight military fashion.

  Standing up, I immediately sit back down from dizziness.

  “You’ll be fine when the drug wears off.”
I jump up and spin to see an older man in a uniform. My head feels light, but I push through it.

  “Where’s Rudy?” I almost curse myself when he smiles, as if my question is the best question I can ask.

  “Still sleeping. We gave him a bit more than you, since he is reasonably larger,” he informs me. I step back. He holds out his hands. “Aspirin and water. You probably have a headache.” He blinks at me as I take the cup and pills.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I’ll explain when you’re feeling better.” With that, he walks out and shuts the door.

  The drug did take a few more seconds for me, I remember pulling out the dart. Rudy had fallen right away. So much for keeping my word to Nastas about avoiding this place. What the hell do they want with us? Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t put us in the same room. I would have shown concern, and I don’t want them using us against each other. Too late. Too late for everything.

  I lie down and stare at the ceiling, waiting for them to come and get me.

  Hours pass before the door opens again. A woman stares at me as she strolls in. The feeling she’s sizing me up doesn’t sit well. She wears a white T-shirt tucked into green pants, tucked into boots. Her bright red hair is in a bun at the nape of her neck. My heart skips at the all-too-familiar dress.

  “Kansas, my name is Carrie Morgan.” She watches me for some kind of reaction. I don’t give her one, nor do I say anything. She sighs, “Come with me.”

  We step into a long hallway and pass a big room with double doors and a cacophony of voices. The noise dies as we walk by, and when I glance in there are several men dressed in the same attire, sitting at tables. They give me curious stares, but they all look worn down.