Erin M. Leaf (10 page)

“
Ben,” Dillon said, voice breaking. He dropped his head onto Ben’s shoulder.

Ben held him tighter, worried when Dillon began to shake. “Dillon? You okay?”

“Fuck, I need—” Dillon broke off, scrabbling at Ben’s jeans.

“
Dillon, Jesus, what the hell are you doing?” Ben asked, shocked and almost pulling away, but Dillon was already on his knees. God.

“
Just shut up, Ben. Shut up,” Dillon said, and then he had Ben’s half-hard cock in his warm hands.

Ben groaned, looking around blindly.
“Someone’s going to see.” He couldn’t believe Dillon was doing this. Was he crazy?

“
I don’t give a flying fuck,” Dillon said, mouthing at the tip of Ben’s dick.

He
tried to drag him up, but Dillon clamped a hand on his balls.

“Shit, Dillon.” Ben went perfectly still. The feel of Dillon’s fingers on him was exquisitely shocking. He didn’t really want
Dillon to stop.

“
Let me do this,” Dillon said, licking until Ben thought he’d go insane. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed Lark. I don’t care if you’re having some kind of stupid gay freak-out—”

“
What?” Ben protested, cupping Dillon’s cheek. “I’m not.”

Dillon frowned, lips red and wet.
“Then why haven’t we kissed in four weeks? Why didn’t you let me touch you when you woke up in the middle of the night, yelling—”

“
Fuck, Dillon, we were both stressed out. I didn’t even know you knew I couldn’t sleep.” Ben felt his heart break all over again. This was Dillon, his best friend. His lover, though God knew he’d struggled with that term for a while. The past four weeks had been hell.

“
You’re impossible,” Dillon said, rubbing his cheek against Ben’s cock.

Ben shuddered, then took a deep breath. Dillon deserved to know how he felt.
“Dillon, I love you. You have to know that.”

Dillon pulled away
, face going pale. Ben stared, feeling horribly exposed. When Dillon didn’t say anything, he began to yank on his pants, trying to cover himself up, but then Dillon was there again, pressing him into the tree.

“
No. I did
not
know that, you idiot,” he growled, then he stood up and kissed him.

Ben
’s head thunked against the bark as Dillon gripped his arms, kissing him so hard he couldn’t move his head. Ben didn’t give a shit. “Dillon, fuck,” he said when his best friend finally pulled away. Dillon wasn’t listening. He was already back on his knees, sucking Ben all the way down. Ben shouted as Dillon did something complicated with his tongue, and then he shot his load down Dillon’s throat. “Fuck,” he groaned, stars dancing across his eyes. When he could breathe again, he grabbed Dillon, pulling him up. He tried to cup Dillon’s erection, but all he encountered was a wet spot on his jeans.

Dillon laughed into his neck.
“Yeah.”

Ben
hugged him, beyond surprised that he could affect Dillon that much, then froze when a voice intruded on their afterglow.

Dillon huffed out an exasperated breath.
“
Now
we get interrupted? We have shitty luck.”

“Could be worse,” Ben murmured. “It could’ve happened when you were on your knees.”

“I should’ve known you were a couple of fags,” the voice said harshly.

Ben groaned, wishing he were anywhere but here with his pants hanging half down and his dick out.

“Fucking Brock, of course,” Dillon muttered into Ben’s neck, fumbling with Ben’s pants one-handed. Ben pushed him away and yanked them up, zipping quickly. He didn’t bother with the button.

“
If I’m not mistaken, you’re interrupting a private conversation,” Ben said mildly, stepping in front of Dillon. He wasn’t surprised to see a few of Brock’s friends milling around behind him.

“
Conversation? Ha,” Brock scoffed, face twisting. “All that talk about your girl, what’s her name, Lola or something, and here you are. Fucking queers.” His tone was belligerent.

Ben frowned.
“We’ve never lied about Lark,” he said, his anger getting the better of him.

“
Yeah, right. That’s why Dillon was on his knees,” one of the men behind Brock said. “Because you’re both so heartbroken over a girl.”

Dillon moved forward, tension in his frame, but Ben grabbed his arm.
“Forget it. Let’s just go.”

“
Fuck that,” Dillon said, throwing his arm off. “I’m still pissed from before.”

“
Shit,” Ben muttered under his breath. Dillon wasn’t going to back down. His best friend could stay calm for years, but when he snapped, that was it. This was just the icing on the cake.

“
What’s going on here?” a new voice asked, hard with anger.

Ben froze.
When the hell did he get here?
he thought, staring as Jonathan walked into the woods.
I thought he was still in the town hall.

“
Nothing,” Brock said, stepping back. His eyes told a different story.

“
Yeah, sure,” Jonathan said, moving closer. “If I ever catch you harassing one of our people again, I’ll kick your ass out, Brock.” He glanced at Brock’s friends. “You and your pals. This is your last warning. I’m sick of your shit.”

“
They’re fucking queer, Jonathan. They lied to us,” one of them said.

“
I don’t care if they like to play with dolls and wear pink wigs, Jack. We need all the men we can get.” Jonathan moved forward, face stern. “You know that.”

“
Dillon was on his knees!” Brock said, not backing down.

Ben sighed, not in the mood for a confrontation, but what could he do? He knew this was going to sound insane, but he refused to deny how he felt.
“Look, Dillon and I—” he looked at Dillon for reassurance. Dillon nodded. “—are lovers. And Lark is part of that.”

A quick flash of… something passed across Jonathan
’s face. “What you do on your own time, in private, is none of my business,” he said to Ben. “However,” he continued, turning back to Brock, “there will be no more stupid shit happening here as long as I have a say. Is that understood? No discrimination, no gay bashing, no violence against our own people.”

Brock clenched his fists.
“It’s not right.” He glanced at Ben, eyes hate-filled. “What he’s doing, it’s sick.”

Jonathan sighed disgustedly.
“Consenting adults have a right to consent to whatever floats their boat. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember you having a fondness for ladies’ shoes?” His voice was wry.

Behind Ben, Dillon choked on a laugh. Brock
’s face turned beet red and his friends started jeering. Jonathan smiled faintly. “Get the hell out of here. You’ve got patrol duty in two hours, Brock.”

Ben watched, amused, as Brock
’s friends dragged him away, making fun of him the whole time. “Thanks, Jonathan.”

The man sighed, running his hands over his face.
“Yeah, well, next time you decide to enjoy a quick blowjob, you might want to pick a less public spot,” he said, pivoting and walking away. “What has once been seen cannot be unseen,” he called over his shoulder.

Ben stared.
“What the hell?”

Dillon laughed.
“I get the feeling that he’s a bit more sympathetic to us than I previously thought.”

“
Deep waters,” Ben murmured, still a bit confused.

“
Come on. Let’s go pack. We’ve got our woman to fetch.” Dillon slapped him on the shoulder, then grimaced, plucking at his jeans. “And I need a clean pair of pants.”

Chapter Nine

Lark stuffed the beef jerky into her small bag and crept out of the kitchen. She had to be quick and careful. The soldier stationed by the food was due back any minute and she had to get the hell out of here before he found her in the kitchen. She glanced outside, pressing her lips together in frustration. The rain was going to suck. It might help wash away her tracks, but she wasn
’t looking forward to being cold and wet, especially now that the nights were so much colder.

I
’ll just have to find someplace to hole up. Get some warm clothes. I’ll manage. I always do,
she told herself. She thought about Dillon and Ben, locking her memory of them in her head. She’d do it for them. In her heart, she knew they were dead, but she wanted to live, because that’s what they’d expect of her. She put her hand on her abdomen, wishing stupidly that they’d been less careful when they’d made love. She wasn’t pregnant, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if she had been carrying their child.
A baby with Ben’s eyes, or Dillon’s hair,
she thought, throat closing up.

“
Lark? Is that you?” a woman whispered from the darkest corner of the room, near the windows.

Lark whirled around, heart pounding. The knife she
’d grabbed earlier was suddenly in her hand, fingers tight around the hilt.

“
It’s Alice,” the woman said, standing up from her crouch.

Lark frowned.
“Alice? What are you doing here?” She relaxed a little. Bethany’s old grandmother was frail and wouldn’t be able to hurt her.

“
I was hungry. They don’t give me enough food so I steal some when I know they’re off patrolling,” the woman said. She laughed, brittle and angry. “I’m old, so they think I’m stupid.”

“
Shit, Alice. You’re not going to tell them I was here, are you?” Lark swallowed, trying not to let her anger cloud her thinking. She’d talked to Alice before, and the woman was friendly, but Lark wasn’t close with anyone anymore. Most of the others were gone now. She had her tent to herself, for all the good it did her. She leaned back against the counter, trying to hide the bag of food she was holding.

Alice snorted.
“Of course not.” The woman’s eyes gleamed in the dark. The only light was a single lamp in the yard outside. “I’m going to help you.”

Lark frowned.
“Help me?”

“
Well, you need shoes, don’t you?” Alice motioned to her feet, pale with cold in her flip-flops. “Come on.” She walked to the door that led into the storeroom next to the kitchen. “They have a pile of boots in here.”

Lark hurried to catch up, shoving the knife into her bag.
“Why are you helping me?”

Alice shook her head, coughing. She tried to muffle the sound in her sleeve. Lark winced, not liking the sound of the old woman
’s lungs.

Alice stifled the cough, clearly worried about making too much noise. She managed a shaky breath.
“I’m sick and I’m not going to last much longer.” She grinned fiercely. “And at least one of us should get out of here.” She looked Lark up and down. “You’re young and strong. Maybe you will live. Bethany’s gone. I’ll be gone soon.”

Lark stared at her, not knowing what to say.

“Here,” the woman said, pushing through the door. She rummaged around on a shelf. “Try these on.” She plopped a pair of hiking shoes against Lark’s arms.

“
I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Lark whispered, grabbing for the boots.

“
Just put them on and don’t worry about me,” the woman said, shoving a pair of thick socks at Lark.

Lark took them
, sitting on the floor to try them on. She needed the shoes. She wasn’t going to say no.

“
They fit?” Alice asked a moment later.

Lark nodded.
“Yeah, thanks.” She tightened the laces, then shoved her flip-flops into her bag. “Why don’t you come with me?” she asked as she stood up, testing the new boots. They were a little snug, but they’d do.

Alice chuckled.
“I’ve got pneumonia, girl. I won’t make it past the first mile.” She narrowed her eyes at Lark. “Besides, I think the zombies are finally getting out of hand in our woods, even with the cold. Haven’t you noticed how distracted the men have been this week? They used up the last of the fuel for their helicopter two weeks ago. Not a good sign.”

Lark frowned.
“Yeah. That’s why I decided to make a run for it.”

“
They’re running out of people to feed to the zombies.”

“
What?” Lark’s voice rose. Her hand went to the locket around her neck for reassurance.

“
Keep your voice down,” the old woman hissed. “You didn’t know?”

Lark stared at her.
“I suspected, but I couldn’t believe it was true. I didn’t
want
to believe it.”

Alice nodded.
“It’s true. They took my granddaughter a few days ago, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. You shared a tent with her. You
know
.”

“
Shit,” Lark breathed, her blood running cold. “Poor Bethany.” The missing girl was why Lark finally decided it was time to run. She’d known people were disappearing, but she had been able to mostly ignore it until the day she couldn’t find Bethany. She looked everywhere, even asked the guards, but it was like the girl had never been here to begin with. Lark was afraid she might be next. They’d told her that the other girls in her tent had been reassigned to another camp, not that she’d really believed them.

“
Yeah. You see what’s happening.” Alice coughed again, her whole body shaking.

“
I can’t believe they’re feeding the zombies,” Lark whispered, horrified. “Don’t they know that they’ll just attract more of them here? It’s like putting out birdseed.”

Alice
grabbed her hand. “Go. Get out of here.
Live
.”

“
Shit,” Lark muttered, even more afraid now. This meant that there were more zombies in the woods than she’d been expecting. She glanced outside, but the rain made everything blurry. No way she’d be able to see if there were any waiting for her.

“
Get going. The rain will help bury your scent,” the old woman said, poking her on the arm.

Lark swallowed hard and nodded.
“Thank you.” She hugged Alice, careful not to squeeze too hard.

The old woman gripped her tightly.
“Promise me you’ll fight. And survive,” she whispered harshly.

Lark pulled back.
“I promise.” She had no idea if she’d make it, but she’d fight. She always had and always would.
And if there’s even the slightest chance Dillon or Ben are alive, I’ll find them.

“
Good. Now go. Out that way. I’ll distract the guard,” Alice pointed to the old window in the pantry, then walked back into the kitchen.

Lark froze when she heard voices, then a hard slap. She winced. She hadn
’t noticed the guard coming into the kitchen, but Alice had. She shoved at the window, thankful it opened quietly. She refused to waste the opportunity the old woman had given her. Lark slid her legs over the sill and shifted her bag to her lap, then eased out into the night. Rain wet her hair, but she didn’t bother with her hood. She needed to be able to see as much as possible. A little water wouldn’t kill her. Being spotted by one of the men would.

She closed the window as best she could from outside, then slipped the knife from her backpack into her pocket. She
’d hate to need it and not be able to get to it quickly. She shrugged her pack onto her shoulders and silently headed for the fence. The cold rain hit the slightly warmer ground, creating a foggy mist that made everything look blurry and shadowed. She’d have to climb the fence and she worried about the guards seeing her. The fog would make it harder to spot her.

Although, there are
a lot less guards lately than there were before,
she mused, easing past the jungle gym. When she reached the fence, she immediately began to climb before she lost her nerve. At the top, she waited, listening. The only sound she could hear was the rain. She climbed down and waited again before starting for the tree line. It was nearly four a.m., and she knew that this was when some of the guards tried to catch a little sleep when they were supposed to be patrolling. As soon as she reached the trees, she stopped, heart pounding with worry. She’d moved slow and careful, but there was still the chance that someone would see her.

So far so good, though,
she thought, rubbing the rain off her face. She shivered and then headed into the brush, grimacing when her feet crunched on dead leaves. She prayed no one heard, but it couldn’t be helped. She’d climbed the fence where the trees were thickest and there was no trail.

“
Where do you think you’re going?”

Shit
, she thought, freezing for a moment. The soldier came out of nowhere. She peered into the fog, trying to see, then wished she hadn’t. It was Patrick, the worst of the bunch. He was the one who’d tried to rape her before.

“Lark, I should’ve known,” he said, looming up in front of her.

She turned and tried to run, but he grabbed her arms and shoved her face against a wet tree. She stifled a yip of fear.
Motherfucker,
she thought, struggling. She couldn’t let him stop her. He had her arms pinned so she couldn’t reach her knife. She squirmed, but the man shoved his knee up against her thigh. Her cheek ground into the rough, wet bark.

“
I should have known you’d try to escape,” he said, low and angry.

Lark
’s heart gave a sick thump as she realized how tightly he held her. “Patrick,” she hissed, rearing back and pushing against him. “Let me go!” It didn’t do any good.

He chuckled, pulling her arms up higher.
It hurt.

“
I’m glad you tried to get away,” he growled. “Now I can do whatever I want with you.”

Lark lifted a foot and stomped on his instep
hard as she could. He jacked her arms back tighter, then did something that freed one of his. He used a hand to shove her face into the tree, scraping her temple until it stung. “You can’t get away, you stupid bitch.” He slid his hand down to fumble with his pants.

“
Fuck you,” Lark said, twisting her neck and trying to head-butt him. At this point she didn’t care if he hurt her. She would not stand still and let him rape her.

“
Oh no,
I’m
going to fuck
you
,” he said, grabbing at her leggings. He yanked them down and damp air wafted over her ass.

“Bastard,” she hissed, struggling with him. She was
cold and angry and maybe in shock.
This can’t be happening,
she thought, her rage making her stronger. She reared back again and this time her head made contact with his face. He cursed and slammed her against the tree. She blinked tears and probably some blood out of her eyes, she wasn’t sure. He kneed her legs apart, holding her up. Lark forced herself to think since fighting wasn’t getting her anywhere. She couldn’t reach her knife, but maybe… she froze. Something moved in the trees, just at the edge of the mist. She squinted, trying desperately to see and then it moved closer and she realized it was a zombie. Fuck!

“
Yeah, that’s it. Just stay like that,” Patrick said, fumbling behind her. The cold handle of his gun pressed into her spine.

Lark
swallowed, holding still. If she could pull away at just the right time, she might be able to get away. The zombie moved closer, eyes gleaming in the dark. The gray face blended in with the mist and she realized that the sun must be rising if she could see this much better. Patrick pushed closer, and she tensed, then suddenly the zombie was moving towards them, coming really fast. She jerked away from Patrick, hard and rough, and he grunted. She turned, drawing her knife and plunging it into his side in one quick motion. His eyes went wide and she pushed at him, not wanting him to fall on her.

“
You bitch!” he said thickly.

H
e was already losing enough blood that she could wriggle out from under his arms and then the zombie was on top of them, teeth bared.
Oh God, oh God, oh God
, she chanted in her head as she grabbed her leggings with one hand, pulling them up so they wouldn’t trip her. She slid her fingers around Patrick’s gun with the other hand, yanking it from the holster as she backed away. The zombie didn’t even see her.

She
inched away until she was sure it wasn’t going to come for her, then she flicked the safety off the weapon. Even though Patrick had tried to rape her she couldn’t let the zombie eat him alive. She raised the gun, aimed, and shot him between the eyes. The zombie didn’t seem to care. It attacked Patrick anyway, ripping his arm off and lifting the bloody prize to its mouth. Patrick’s body fell to the ground with a wet thump.