by Aurelia Skye
CHAPTER TWO
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I left the safety of my neighborhood. At first, it was just the multiple dead bodies that got to me, especially those trapped in various stages of suffering that were easy to discern from the ways they had fallen. I’d expected to find more people alive, since there should, in theory, be at least ten percent of the population left, but we were in Wyoming, and this part of the state had always had sparse population. Still, it was eerily silent, and I was certain I was alone.
I’m not sure if that’s what made me careless, or if I just didn’t have enough training or skills to really prepare to meet someone else with bad intentions. Whatever the case, I found one of those big box stores an hour-and-a-half into my ride and thankfully pulled into the parking lot.
I started to take a parking spot, and then I laughed at the absurdity of it. I could take my dirt bike inside the store if I wanted. I’d be able to navigate through most of the aisles, and it would make for an easier getaway, should the need arise. It was a little tricky getting through the sliding doors, because they no longer slid since the store had lost power.
I was able to lodge a tire iron I liberated from the open trunk of an abandoned car in the parking lot into the small crack in the door and pry it open with sheer strength. I wanted to stick my tongue out at Mrs. Fleming, the gym teacher who’d mocked me throughout my high school career for being a weakling. I didn’t know if she was alive or dead and was surprisingly upset at the thought of the mean old harridan having been wiped away by the Hell Virus.
Shaking off the melancholy, I proceeded into the store cautiously on my dirt bike. I’d always been good with tools and mechanical things, perhaps inheriting that from my mother, because my father was more cerebral than hands-on, and it didn’t take long to fashion a makeshift cart behind my dirt bike when I stopped in the sporting goods section. I bungee-corded it to the frame and decided it would be sturdy enough for the trip home. I might be able to modify it with road tires that were more appropriate, but that was a task for another day. For now, I simply wanted to get enough supplies to return to my hidey-hole for at least another few weeks.
The store was pretty picked over, though I procured some stale chips, a case of beer that had only nineteen cans—being eighteen, I’d never had a chance to go away to college before the virus struck, so I hadn’t really done much drinking, but I figured the beer might be good for sterilizing things. Any alcohol was, right? And maybe I’d want to get blind, stinking drunk some night and forget all about being alone in this horrible world.
I found a carton of eggs with ten remaining. One was mysteriously gone, and the other one was smashed. I sniffed them experimentally, deciding they might still be good. I knew they could stay preserved in a cool, dark area for up to a month, so what did I have to lose by taking them? I’d certainly know if they were spoiled as soon I started cooking them.
I picked up a few cleaning supplies, slightly amused that those aisles were almost fully stocked. I guessed people didn’t care about being clean in the apocalypse. I knew it was important to try to maintain good sanitation though, so I picked up bleach and other chemicals that my mom and dad would have been horrified to see in their house. They had purchased organic cleaners, but I didn’t see anything like that available here at the big-box store, and I figured even those chemicals had to be better than nothing. I was far more likely to die from eventual starvation, or at the hands of evil people, than I was to get cancer from the cleaning chemicals.
I considered it worth the trip when I found a case of toilet paper. It was the rough, scratchy stuff my mom never would have bought, but it would have to do.
I picked up a few random bits here and there, piecing together enough rations to survive another week. It wasn’t the haul I’d hoped for, but it would have to do.
I needed clean clothes desperately, so that was my next stop. My parents had stored water, but not enough to waste on washing clothes. I couldn’t see wasting that much water when I wasn’t sure how or when I would get more. Instead, I’d taken to wearing my clothes at least three times, until they were disgusting, and tossing them away.
I’d gone through all of my wardrobe, most of Becky’s remaining items, and the rest of my mom’s in the last nine months.
I might be able to squeeze into Jimmy’s things, but he was only thirteen. Granted, he was a large kid before he’d died, and I was on the petite side, but I wasn’t sure about his jeans and other sundries. I’d been saving them as a last resort, since there was no way my dad’s things would fit. He’d been a big bear of a man, on the obese side, with a shaggy beard and a hearty laugh. My eyes burned as I remembered his laugh, wishing I could hear it again.
I cleared the tears away and set about outfitting myself. I had lots of room left in my cart, since there hadn’t been much in the way of food. The clothing section was as picked through as the rest of the store, but I was lucky I wore a smaller size. I could even squeeze into some of the girls’ clothes for things like leggings and pajama pants. All the mediums were gone, and most of the extra-large and plus-size clothes too. There were a few size-large items left, and a lot of small and petite—a lot being subjective and influenced by the store having stocked the sizes to start with.
I was able to fill up my shopping cart the rest of the way before selecting new hiking boots. I’d be doing a lot of walking in the coming days if I was going to have to leave my sanctuary on a regular basis.
It was a foolish thing to do, but I didn’t even think about it. I truly thought I had the place to myself, and it seemed unnecessary to go into the dressing room to change when I was right there by the items I needed. I stripped down, taking off everything, and reached for a package of baby wipes. I’d found a case of those, along with some diapers. I’d left the diapers, having no need of them and assuming someone else might, but I had been ecstatic to find the wipes.
The baby wipe bath wasn’t as clean as the pan bath I let myself have the luxury of twice a week, but it was certainly better than nothing. I felt less grimy, though I couldn’t fool myself into pretending I was clean as I slipped on new socks, new underwear, and a pair of jeans.
I was just about to fasten my bra when arms wrapped around me. I screamed before a hand clamped over my face, cutting off my ability to breathe. I tried to struggle, but the person had taken me by surprise. Person? No, it was definitely a man. I was able to identify that by the fleshy arms around me, and the thick growth of dark hair sprouting from his forearms. The hand was far too large to belong to most women as well, and when the form forced me to the floor, making me bend down with my butt in the air so he could rub himself against me obscenely, there could be no doubt it was a man holding me.
If I could have spoken, I might have been dumb enough to ask him what he wanted, but I knew what he wanted. It was obvious. Like a fucking idiot, I had left my guns in the shopping cart, laying them there while I slipped on clean clothes. It was just a few feet away, but those feet might as well have been miles.
When he started tugging at the new jeans I’d just put on, I realized I was angrier at the idea of him ripping them than I was at him attacking me. It was an irrational response, but it must have been fueled by adrenaline. Somehow, I managed to wedge my elbow free and bring it back, colliding with his cheek. His hand fell away, and I grunted as pain flared up arm, but mine was nothing compared to his curse and shout, indicating I had done more damage to him than myself.
As his hold weakened, I tried to scramble away, but couldn’t quite make it. Instead, I turned over and tried to wedge my feet between us, hoping I could kick him off me with a move similar to the leg presses I’d had do in gym class during the weightlifting unit, when Mrs. Fleming had seemed to take particular joy in torturing me with all the machines at her disposal.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t manage to move any farther than getting my knees against his chest. All that did was open up my thighs to him, allowing him to press his denim-clad dick b
etween my legs. Bile seared my throat, and if I had eaten anything recently, I probably would have been able to vomit all over him. Instead, I simply dry heaved and kept fighting as he put his hand between us.
The creep was clearly intent on removing his penis from his pants and putting it inside me without invitation. At least he was no longer holding my face and blocking my flow of oxygen, so I was able to think more clearly, and I started screaming again. At that point, I didn’t care who came, though I really didn’t expect anyone. I thought it was just me and Mr. Rapist, and I prepared myself for the worst.
I certainly didn’t expect five men in military garb to suddenly appear, surrounding us. For a moment, I thought they must be with the asshole pinning me down, but then one of them, the tallest of the group, who had gleaming ebony skin, a bald head, and thick muscles, leaned down and lifted the scumbag off me, seeming without any effort at all. He tossed him against a shelf, and another one of the five trained his gun on the dirt bag as he stood over him, yelling, “Don’t move, you rapist piece of shit.”
I wanted to be strong and cool, but it isn’t every day you’re nearly raped, and I fell apart. I was embarrassed as tears flowed from my eyes. Strong arms picked me up, holding me against a muscled chest as I cried. In my current state, I was amazed to realize I was burying my face against the hard planes under my face, sniffing appreciatively.
He smelled lightly of sweat and something pungent, like gun oil, but he also smelled clean. When I finally had myself composed enough to look up into his brown eyes, I took in the fact he was noticeably more presentable than I was, and his dark hair was cropped close to his scalp in a scrubby fashion.
I had the strangest urge to run my fingers through it, pausing to linger at the faint hint of gray overtaking the temples. He had to be in his mid-to-late thirties, but I was suddenly wet between the legs, and I somehow kept myself from cuddling against him while arching my pelvis.
Maybe I was starved for human contact, or it was because he was such an attractive man holding me so close, or it might even be a reaction to the violence I’d just endured. Whatever the explanation, I had the sudden impulse to jump on him.
Instead, I forced myself to pull away, and his arms dropped quickly. I realized I was still standing there topless, and heat filled my cheeks. As though aware of what I was thinking, the soldier beside the one who’d lifted me up handed me a bra from the cart, and they all averted their eyes as I slipped it on, followed by a clean T-shirt. When I was dressed, I cleared my throat, and they looked at me again.
All but the prostrate scumbag on the floor, who was kneeling on his knees with his forehead touching the cold tile. I scowled at him. “What do we do about him?”
“There’s no justice system anymore,” said the one who’d held me, his voice deep and gravelly, making my stomach spasm with pleasure that shot farther down into my core. “What do you think we should do with him?”
“Shoot him.” I should have been shocked by the words flowing from my mouth, but I wasn’t. They just felt right. If he’d prey on me, he’d target anyone else who crossed his path as well, either male or female. Anyone he could use to better himself or his situation would be fair game.
I barely finished uttering the words before the one acting as his guard glanced at the one who’d held me, received a nod of permission, and fired his seriously scary-looking rifle. The rapist perv didn’t even have a chance to flinch or beg for mercy. He was just dead.
I nodded my satisfaction and smiled at the one who’d given the order before smiling at the one who’d carried it out. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name, honey?” asked the one who’d picked me up off the floor.
“Alyssa Nolan.” I had the absurd urge to stick out my hand as a form of greeting, but I didn’t. I hadn’t yet reached the age group where that was the norm for meeting new people, and other than a few job interviews for shitty summer jobs I’d done in preparation to save for college, I hadn’t had many formal occasions where I needed to shake someone’s hand. Considering I’d rather fondle other bits of him, I decided it was safer to keep my hands to myself and just nodded at him.
“I’m Captain Shane Morrison, and this is my group.” He pointed to the one standing farthest to my right, a young man a few years older than me, I estimated. “That’s Private Wesley Tate.” Next, he introduced the one standing between himself and Tate. “This is Corporal Maddox Tillman.” He nodded his head to the big black guy. “That’s Lieutenant Jamar Johnson.” He waved to the man who’d shot the attempted rapist. “And Sergeant Han Martinez.”
My eyes widened, and I knew it was silly even as I asked, “Han? Like Han Solo?”
He grinned at me, his approval clear in his brown eyes. “Bingo, Alyssa. My real name’s Alejandro, but I decided to go by Han after I saw the first set of movies as a kid.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Which first set? The set that actually came first, or the set that came later, but wasn’t nearly as good?”
He winced. “Episode four, baby. My folks started me right. None of the fake first trilogy until later on.”
It was a surreal conversation, but the normality of it was soothing, and the last of my tremors had faded away. I was feeling a little awkward and suddenly shy, though that wasn’t really like me. An inane question popped from my mouth. “Are you guys from around here?”
Shane shook his head. “We’re from farther north and met up along the way from different units.”
For the first time, I realized they wore diverse types of camouflage. I didn’t know anything about military, but assumed that meant they were from separate branches. Or something.
“We’re trying to make it to an area where farming is better, and the locations are more secure. My squad was posted near the Canadian border, but I was the only one who survived the virus. Same story with the others. We banded together and thought Montana might be a good place. It’s supposed to be a preppers’ paradise, so we’re hoping to find a prepper’s setup that survived the Hell Virus.”
I grinned. “That’s what you call it too? That’s what my sister and I always called it,” I added to clarify in light of his confused expression. “I guess the Hell Virus isn’t all that original, but it sort of felt like our own invention.” I was aware of the melancholy bleeding through my tone.
“Is your sister still with you?” asked Jamar.
I shook my head. “She was one of the first to receive the vaccine. Her boyfriend had known the local doctor coordinating the effort, and though she lost him in the first wave of Hell, she still knew the doctor well enough to sign up as a volunteer and be selected.”
Han flinched. “That’s rough shit. Sorry, babe.”
I tried not to take the endearment personally, or read anything into it. He struck me as the flirtatious type, and though I’d been solidly interested in the man who had picked me up off the floor, I now allowed my eyes to really evaluate the form of Alejandro Martinez. My mouth was watering in no time, and my panties were surely a sodden mess by now. I’d have to shed this new pair already and slip on a fresh pair.
First, I’d probably indulge in a rousing round of masturbation. After having my libido turned off for months due to grief and just trying to survive, suddenly sex was all I could think about. And though that was normal, it certainly wasn’t typical of the person I’d been before all this. I couldn’t ever recall finding myself attracted to two men on the same day, within the same hour of meeting them, and wanting to fuck them both.
Fuck. That was funny. I hadn’t ever fucked anyone. I’d had the opportunity, but not the interest. My neighbor-slash-ex-boyfriend would have been happy to fuck, but I hadn’t wanted to with him. It had seemed too soon, and I didn’t want to ruin something that should be special. Now, fuck special. I had a feeling if they whipped out their dicks and offered them, I’d be on my knees sucking in no time and thanking them for it. Who knew the apocalypse would turn me into such a wanton?
I nodded, trying to
hide my reaction. “I’m sure we’ve all lost people.” It was all I could say about it, still not able to talk about losing Becky, Jimmy, and my parents. I wasn’t sure I’d ever really want to talk about it. What good would talking do? It certainly wasn’t going to bring them back, and it just brought events back to me, making it that much harder to get through the day so I could cross off that box on my calendar.
Trying to change the subject, I asked, “So you’re here on a supply run as you move through?”
Shane hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be mulling over the situation before giving me an answer. “That’s not entirely accurate. We’ve commandeered a base, and we plan to stay here for the winter. We don’t want to get stuck eating each other in Montana if we can’t find a suitable place to hunker down and get a working farm in order before cold weather hits.”
I grinned at him. “I could see where that is unappealing.” In all honesty, I wouldn’t mind eating them though…at least in a way. “I don’t know what base you’re talking about though. There aren’t any military bases in this part of the state.”
Wesley came over to me, putting his arm around my shoulders like we were old friends. I would have minded, except it felt good to have his hand on my arm, his body pressed against mine. Damn, I was attracted to him too. I was the stereotypical hormonally driven teenage mess right then, going to pieces around some cute guys.
Cute was hardly the word though. These were hardened soldiers, and while they were all attractive in different ways, none of them were what you’d call cute. More like dripping with hotness and masculinity. No wonder my panties were about to combust.