Love in the Time of Zombies (13 page)

Blood dripped from my wrists as I pulled at the handcuffs for what seemed the millionth time. It felt like the metal was rubbing on my bones. But it was just another pain to add to the list. I stared at my stomach and whispered a thank-you to God there was no pain there. The baby inside me might only be a collection of cells so far, but it contained Seth and I hoped that meant God was watching over him or her.

“That will be all, Captain Gomez,” a voice intoned outside the room. My skin crawled as the man who called himself General entered the room and shut the door behind him without a sound.

He paced back and forth in front of my outstretched feet. “I hate to keep calling you woman. It sounds so impersonal. And bitch sounds rude for love-making.”

I shuddered and my limbs shook as adrenaline flooded my system. It took all I had to keep my voice calm and low. “What you are thinking of doing wouldn’t be love-making. Don’t try to convince yourself that you’d be doing anything other than raping me.”

Faster than I expected, he straddled my hips and gripped my face in his hands. “I have not raped you…yet.”

His hand slipped from my face and grabbed my breast hard. Nothing would be better than vomiting on him right then, but for the first time this week my stomach wasn’t cooperating. His other hand seized my hair and pulled my head back. His wet lips traveled down my neck and my stomach roiled. His fingers tangled in my necklace and he pulled. It scratched my neck as he ripped it off and flung it away.

“You are a hot bitch. But I bet you know that. Were you Canida’s? That bastard thought he could have it all—the fortress, the weapons, the women.”

It hurt to think of Canida and the rest of the people of The Streets. I didn’t know how many had survived. I’d only seen the dead when General Peters dragged us through the rubble that was all that was left of the so-called fortress. We’d stumbled upon my friend, Bobbie, her body destroyed by the blast she’d caused, the detonator grasped in her dead hand.

A whimper broke from my throat and a shudder ran down my body. Peters must have thought it was passion because he twisted my breast until I thought he meant to tear it off. He ground his pelvis to mine and I wanted to die.

“Why don’t you go fuck your whore?”

He jumped up like a cattle prod zapped his groin. “What did you say?”

I stared him straight in the eye. “I’ve heard the men talking about your slut. She’s in a coma. Guess that makes it easier for you.”

A flash of flesh tone was all I saw before his backhand connected with my cheek. Lights exploded in my head. I opened my eyes to see his leg pulled back to kick me. Tucking myself into a tight ball, I prayed that I could protect the life inside me.

“General Peters,” a voice called out as the one I thought was Captain Gomez opened the door and stepped inside. “An old man is at the perimeter who wants to barter some food and some women.”

“Well,” he said, waving the other man out the door. “Let’s see what he has that we can steal.”

He turned to me and sank his fingers into my chin. “I’ll be back tonight and you’ll find out what it means to be my whore.”

He stepped back and I tried to kick him, but he just moved out of my reach and laughed at my attempts. His cackles echoed as he shut the door and I heard the lock turn.

Yanking on the handcuffs, I chastised myself. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You should have sweet talked him, Emily. It might have gotten the handcuffs off. Then you could have escaped, you idiot.”

My bitter laugh startled me. How far I’d come from a pampered San Francisco society wife to even consider giving myself to some sadistic asshole to get away. I shook my head. What a world. Rape or zombies. Not a great choice, but I’d still take my chances with the undead over Peters.

My eyelids started drooping as the sun left the gap high on the broken wall. From the early-morning tension of taking the pregnancy test, to the exhaustion of the battle, to the terror of my capture, this had been the longest day of my life. Even my grumbling stomach demanding food wasn’t enough to keep me awake. I slept off and on as my weight pulled on my arms and the handcuffs ripped at my wrists. Blood trickled down my arms. Connected to the wall, they’d become dead weight hours ago, all the feeling drained away in my current position.

A key turned in the lock and I awoke in an instant. I kept my eyelids closed as the door opened and quietly shut again. A citrus scent tickled my nose and I cracked an eyelid enough to see a man standing in front of me with a small lantern. He was too tall to be the Napoleon Complex-infected Martin Peters. Squatting in front of my legs, the man whispered, “Are you awake?”

Whatever he wanted, it wasn’t as if I could fight him. Opening my eyes, I saw the Hispanic man, the one Peters called Captain Gomez. He put a finger to his lips and held up a small silver handcuff key as he sat the lantern on the floor.

The surprise must have shown on my face because he smiled. He reached and a couple of clicks announced my arms were free. I pulled them down and he grabbed the cuffs and tossed them on the bed.

“Here, sit on the cot,” he whispered as he pulled me up and I fell to the hard surface. “Your arms have been up there for a while, so it is really going to hurt when they come back to life. Please be quiet or we both die. I meant to get you out earlier with the doctors, but I had to wait for the guards to be occupied.”

Biting my lip, I groaned as quiet as possible when the feeling did come back. A million paper cuts on the surface of my arms. Each only so painful, but unbearable when put all together. Tears slid down my cheeks.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a medicine tube I assumed was ointment and some gauze bandages. “This may sting a little,” he spoke softly as he rubbed the ointment on my wrists and bound them with the bandages, his touch as gentle as a mother’s. “Fresh blood will attract the undead.”

“Here, you haven’t eaten all day,” he said, pulling a squished and torn orange out of his pocket.

I yanked it out of his hand and bit into the skin to peel it, my fingers useless for the task at the moment. The scent of the orange filled my nostrils as I ate, peel and all. All too soon I was left with nothing but sticky fingers and a hunger that hadn’t been satisfied.

“Okay, here is what you’re going to do. The men are occupied with the putas on the east side of this place. The side where I think it was a soccer field at one time.”

I pictured The Streets of Brentwood before it was destroyed. “Okay.”

“The front is gone, between the zombies and your friends,” he continued. “If you go out on the west side by the highway you should only have the undead to contend with.”

He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a voice recorder. “This will help you. I put the repel sound on there, but I could only find a few batteries, so use it sparingly.” His fingers were warm as he placed the recorder into my hands.

“Why didn’t you put all of the sounds? When I find my friends, we could use them.”

His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “No one should have that kind of power. It should be enough that you will be able to keep them away. Control is too dangerous.”

I couldn’t say I didn’t agree, with that saying about absolute power and corruption and all. I reached for his hand. “Are you coming with me? I’m sure the group would let you in.”

He pulled away. “I’ll get you to the edge of the mall. But I have things to do here. The time for vengeance is now.”

A chill ran over my skin at his words. Darkness filled his gaze. Someone was going to die tonight.

“Captain Gomez,” I started.

“Don’t use that name,” he said. “I’m just Antonio.”

“Antonio,” I said, taking his hand again. “Leave this place. Leave these people. Forget Peters and his men and his whore.”

He raised his hand and I flinched as it neared. It stopped inches from my face, his hand shaking before he pulled back.

“That is my wife you are talking about.”

My mouth dropped open, and then I shut it with a snap. Okay. This was all so not my problem and all I wanted was to be gone. Some of the group must have escaped. There hadn’t been enough dead to be everyone.

“I’ll wait outside the door while you change and then I’ll take you to the perimeter.”

As he exited the room, I spotted the camo clothing he’d placed on the cot. Rushing to change, I threw my dirty, blood-splattered stuff to a far corner. The shirt was a little big, but a few rolls of the sleeves and I was good to go. I searched the dirt floor for my necklace, but not even a glimmer of silver showed. I stood up with a sigh. My last connection to my past life was gone.

Getting out of the collapsed building and to the edge of the mall was much easier than I had imagined. The men’s yells of excitement barely echoed from the far end of the shopping mall. We reached the wall where just a short time ago I’d climbed down the rope ladder each day to go on patrol. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it blowing in the breeze.

Antonio reached and shook my hand. “Be safe, mujer guerrera.”

“What does that mean?” I asked as I grabbed him in a hug.

He kissed my forehead and handed my crossbow to me. I snatched it like a long-lost friend.

“It means warrior woman,” he replied, stepping back.

I slung the crossbow onto my back and grasped the recorder. “My name is Emily,” I whispered.

“Good-bye, Emily.”

I put my hand on my stomach. “Antonio, living well is revenge.”

He stepped back into the shadows. “But dying well is sweeter.”

I wanted to call out to him, but already I could hear the moans of the skinbags nearby and the catcalls of the men in the distance and his shadowy form was gone. Heading to the bypass road, I pictured the directions I’d memorized of location one and location two if we had to evacuate.

The echo of moans and shambling feet trickled through to Martin’s subconscious. He tossed and turned in his sleep and struggled to awake. He’d drunk too much before falling into bed beside Tanya. At least she didn’t glare at him and belittle him like the dark-haired slut.

A whisper intruded. A shuffling of feet echoed. Adrenaline flooded his system and his eyes snapped open wide. Breath rushed from his nose and his mouth remained shut. Skin pulled as he tried to rip open his lips.

His mouth was taped shut. Probably from the large roll in Antonio’s hands. The same hands tightened on the silver tape causing the knuckles to whiten under his deeply tanned fingers. His gaze traveled up to his captain’s face. Anger and hatred narrowed the eyes and flattened the lips tightly. A look the man hadn’t been brave enough or stupid enough to show before now.

I should have killed him.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Vomiting would only hasten his death. A death he saw foretold in the man’s cold, dark eyes. Turning his head, he stared at his lover. His breath caught as her chest slowly rose and fell. He closed his eyes and breathed as deep as possible. The man hadn’t killed his cheating wife—yet.

A shadow fell across the bed and he opened his eyes again. Antonio stood over him. Pulling with his arms and legs, he struggled to rise from the mattress. His ankles were taped together and a rope stretched from his feet to across the room. A glance above his head showed a similar rope held his taped hands to a pipe in the wall.

The sound of a knife being pulled from a sheath yanked his attention back to the betrayed husband at his side.

Antonio squatted by the mattress and used the knife to rip open Martin’s shirt, exposing his soft flesh to the blade of a sharp knife. Ignoring his muffled screams, the man sliced across his chest and belly. The cuts deep enough to be agony, but not deep enough to kill. The stench of warm blood filled the room and wetness pooled under his back.

“Why now?” he screamed in his head. He’d been sleeping with Tanya for months. Hell, even before the influenza outbreak. Why wait ‘til now to strike?

Antonio moved to the foot of the bed and pointed the bloodstained knife at him. The man’s soft tones barely reached his ears.

“You had it all. A safe haven, weapons, food, and men to follow you. But that wasn’t enough. You had to have this place.” Antonio turned his hand toward the darkness.

Moans echoed off the fallen walls, increasing in loudness. Martin’s heart raced. The now-familiar hum was gone. His gaze traveled to the corner where Antonio had set up the synthesizer and speakers. His heart stuttered to a dead stop at the sight of a pile of rubble. The equipment was destroyed, sitting there in pieces. Useless.

His captain’s attention returned to him. “You had everything we needed to survive, but that wasn’t enough.”

His gaze followed as Antonio walked to the other side of the bed. Tanya’s side. The woman was a princess in a deep sleep. Her dark hair cascaded over the side of the mattress, her dark, warm eyes hidden from him in her coma.

Antonio leaned over the woman. His hand brushed hair from her face, and then the same hand covered her mouth and nose. He pressed harder. Tanya moaned and moved slightly.

Martin struggled against his bound hands. His muffled yells couldn’t penetrate the duct tape on his face.