Zombieland

Clara Barnes

"Relax, baby. The fun'll start soon enough. Just relax! Take it easy.

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I couldn't believe how casually the man was talking to me about what was about to happen between us. How could a man be so casual about explaining that he was going to rape you? I was sobbing, tears streaking down my cheeks, as I begged again, "Please, don't do this. I'm married. I have a husband. He's probably looking for me ... right now."

I was grasping for straws, of course. Why would a rapist care whether or not his intended victim was married or whether or not that spouse might be searching? I was thinking, of course. I was scared to death. My greatest fear in life had always been being raped. It was the reason I'd married young and foregone the years of college dating that many of my girl friends had. I only personally knew one married woman who'd ever been sexually abused by a stranger, but I knew six single women who had been forced -- to one degree or another -- into having sex with a man they'd just met or just begun dating. I'd always thought that eliminating that dating portion of my life would protect me, so I'd taken what I thought was the easy way out: select one man, let him put a ring on my finger, and learn to be happy with having just one lover for the rest of my life.

I watched as my captor searched the room for whatever, finding food, booze, and water. I eyed one of the plastic bottles of water, asking, "May I? I'm thirsty."

I was, of course, but I was also hoping that since I'd missed my opportunity earlier to kneed him in the nuts and get away, maybe I could create a different relationship between us and prevent this horrific thing from happening to me. After he opened a bottle and lifted it to my mouth, letting me suck in a couple of gulps, I said softly, "My name is Clara."

He didn't respond to my introduction; didn't give me an opportunity to further the connection; and instead came to stand before me and say...

"Time for you to make a decision. Get along ... or get dead."

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"Please," I once again begged. "Don't hurt me. Can't you let me go. You haven't done anything to me yet. You could just let me go, and no one would ever know. No one cares anyway..."

I'd meant to explain that if he let me go, no one would care that he'd almost raped me. But as soon as I'd said no one cares, my brain screamed at me Whaaaaat...? I realized that it came out sounding like No one cares that you DID rape me.

I could see in the man's face that I wasn't going to talk him out of this. Instead, I screamed at the top of my lungs and did my best to kick at him and stand to flee.

Maria Valdez:

(FYI: I hope my writing partner doesn't mind. I'm going to skip us ahead to Day Two, as it seems that some of the other characters are already there.)

(FYI: You have to imagine her in more clothing when you look at the picture of her below.)

As Steve opened his eyes, I smiled broadly and again blushed. He was in my bed. No man had ever been in my bed. Ever! Oh sure, all he'd done is sleep there, and I'd slept in my absent roommate Jolene's bed behind a locked door. But still, a man was in my bed.

"How do you feel?" I asked, immediately offering out a glass of water and a couple of higher strength, prescription pain killers I'd found in Jolene's desk drawer last night. I reached for the blankets covering his body but didn't actually take them before saying, "I should check the bandages."

I wasn't even sure if he remembered any of yesterday's events after I'd bandaged him and begun drugging him. That sounded so bad, thinking it that way. As if I'd slipped him a roofie or something. In reality, I'd only gotten him off the floor to his feet and helped him to my room, where within just seconds of laying down on my bed he'd already fallen asleep. Passed out I think was the right term. He was too big for me to attempt to get him under the covers, so I got an extra sheet and blanket from the hall closet, laid them over him, and then just checked on him repeatedly through the night.

It had only gotten crazier outside after I put Steve in my bed. The violence had escalated: the looting, the fighting, the burning of buildings, cars, and anything else that would hold a flame. There were pillars of smoke in every direction, and at one point after midnight a massive explosion had occurred in the direction of the petroleum transfer station on the edge of town, though I wasn't entirely sure that it had actually been a tank or tanker or truck or whatever.

Steve had awoken several times, and each time I'd given him more water and pills until finally he drifted off for a badly needed rest. Now, as I sat before him in a comfortable pair of loose fitting gym shorts that showed off my bronze skinned legs, and a tight fitting tee shirt that did the same for my ample bosom (pic), I looked into his eyes and reminded, "I'm Maria, in case you don't remember. Maria Valdez. You were attacked last night. I patched you up best I could. Brought you in here."

Of course, I didn't know that he himself hadn't been attacked. From the look of him, I would have thought a whole gang of knife wielding thugs had cut him up.

I'd been embarrassed about initially using sanitary napkins as bandages, so when it came time to change them, I'd used clean strips of towels and wash rags instead. He looked better now, though I was sure he was still in pain by the grimaces that occurred every time he moved.

"All I got from you last night was your name ... Steve," I said, smiling politely. I offered my hand to him in a bit of a naïve move, "Nice to meet you."

Steve

Whatever I was lying on was much softer than before, and I also felt much better. I swallowed the pills and drank the water before having a look around. She had taken good care of me. She had bandaged me, and the look of worry on her face made me smile.

"I think I'm fine now. Thanks for saving me!"

I sat half upright and shook her hand. "Yes, Steve. Steve Carlsen. I live on a farm just outside of the town. Got caught in the crossfire while shopping for supplies. Help yourself from them, of course. That's the least I could do to thank you for saving me."

I really was feeling as thankful as never before in my life. Letting me into her apartment like that... she was taking a huge risk to help me. From the sounds outside, I could tell that, if anything, it had gotten still worse outside. The constant cracks and bangs told me that they had looted the sporting goods store and were now using up its entire stock. From time to time, I could still hear that madman with the automatic weapon - or maybe there was more than one now. Or maybe the army was here. In any case, we would have to hole up in here for quite some time.

I certainly did not mind holing up with her. The outfit she was wearing now showed a lot more of her body, and it made my heart pound. No, I certainly would not mind if this emergency lasted a bit longer...

I felt strong enough to get up now. Still careful not to startle her, I left the bed and tested my legs. Except for the stinging from the bandaged wounds, I seemed to be fine. "I think we should stay in here for now... have you got any supplies? I managed to grab some beans, a first-aid kit and ammunition. Although it's shotgun ammo, so that's not going to be of much use."

I took out my phone. "Sorry, I have to give a short call to Dad. I couldn't reach him last night, and I have to make sure he is okay." This time, the call went through. To my great relief, the old man was feeling better now. He was holed up back on the farm, and seemed to be in good spirits.

"Dad, it's impossible to make it back to the farm now. It's a madhouse in town. I'll try to get to you as soon as this calms down a little."

"You aren't going to get past those roadblocks anyway, so good luck, and see you later, son!"

Roadblocks. No word whether they were police or military, but it showed that the situation was every bit as bad as it sounded.

"My father says they have put up roadblocks. This is getting crazy. Do you have anything we can use to block the doors and windows? How well do you know your neighbors? Any people with military experience? I mean, anyone you really trust?"

I surprised myself with how naturally I took charge, but I had to do something so I did not worry myself sick.

Maria Valdez

"I think I'm fine now. Thanks for saving me!"

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"Of course," I said without really thinking about the options I'd had. I'm sure if I had tried harder, I could have tossed Steve out into the hallway. It had, of course, been my first thought upon his falling between my feet. But now, after saving his life, finding him to be a seemingly nice, polite, safe person, and (blushing again) having my hands upon that muscular body built by honest work, I couldn't even imagine having not drug him inside. I lied, telling him, "I wouldn't have had it any other way.

He stood to test out his legs, saying...

..."I think we should stay in here for now... have you got any supplies? I managed to grab some beans, a first-aid kit and ammunition. Although it's shotgun ammo, so that's not going to be of much use."

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"Well, I have bad news, and I have worse news," I responded. I explained that my roomie and I ate out a lot, so the kitchen was nearly bare except for some microwavable dinners in the freezer, some local microbrews in the fridge, and some salty or sugary or both treats in the cupboards. I also explained that I hadn't been outside since bringing him inside, yet I'd heard lots of people out in the hallway over the last many hours. "I didn't bring in the stuff you had with you, so ... I can guarantee it's all gone by now. Sorry."

I went to the kitchen while Steve called his father, attempting to put together something for him to eat while also thinking about my own parents. They were outside Seattle in a small, quiet suburb. Or, at least I hoped they were. I'd been trying to call them just as Steve had been trying to call his father. Steve had had better luck, and I was still to hear from my folks. I was suddenly wishing that my parents hadn't shunned Social Media the way they had. We probably could have contacted one another through one of my accounts. I'd left dozens of messages and posts that my Seattle friends would see, and while I'd gotten responses that were both hopeful and tragic, no one had yet talked to my family.

"Do you have anything we can use to block the doors and windows? How well do you know your neighbors? Any people with military experience? I mean, anyone you really trust?"

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Again I shrugged. "Tom upstairs I guess. He was in the Navy for a while. I don't know him really well, but he's a nice guy. I sent him a text last night. He's upstairs. Got some woman with him."

I hesitated, feeling yet another blush fill my cheeks. Tommy Lee could only be described as a Bad Ass. He rode a Harley, wore lots of leather, and always had a beautiful woman hanging on his arm. I'd often masturbated to the fantasy of him bending me over the seat of his Hog or laying me on my back on a smoky bar room pool table, my legs in his strong hands as he stood there at the end of the felt, pounding me hard and endlessly.

But that would never happen, of course. He'd seen in my eyes the first time we met that I wouldn't be easily spreading my thighs for him, so he'd never even made the attempt. I think he had an honor to him that many men didn't. I looked to Steve and wondered whether he shared that honor.

"As far as the door, no," I went on. I looked through the kitchen entry at the basic fire door keeping the riff raff out and told him, "Being on the 1st floor had always been so wonderful for me. I hate stairs, and I hate elevators even more, particularly the creepy ol' one in this building. I've never used it."

I offered Steve a plate of crackers and cookies, shrugging and telling him he could pick a microwavable dinner out of the fridge that I would heat up. I looked toward the door again and asked, "Do you think we should go up and see Tom?"

We chatted about what we should do next, then I went to the hallway desk and retrieved my friend's pistol. I returned to stand in front of Steve for a moment, staring at the weapon for a moment. I laid it across my open palms and just stared at it.

"I've never even shot a gun. I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with this." I offered it out to him, then chuckled. "I didn't even know it was empty until after I had you in bed. The bullets are in my underwear drawer."

I blushed again, though I wasn't sure whether I was embarrassed about not knowing anything about the gun I'd brandished, the fact that I'd said I put Steve in my bed, or the idea of him seeing what was in my underwear drawer.

"I'll get them," I said, certainly not wanting the stranger to see my assorted thongs and wire bras and such. I headed off to my bedroom, returning with the 5 .38 caliber bullets outstretched in my palm. I said with an innocent tone, "If we get some more bullets, I would like to learn to shoot someday."

Max

I only laughed as my delicious guest kicked at me, then flailed about in my grasping hands as I took hold of her ankles. I told her with humor, "C'mon, baby, it doesn't have to be like this."

Unable to settle her down without force I jerked her by the ankles down the mattress until the cuffs -- securing her wrists around the metal bed frame -- caused her to stretch out into a long, thin line of tastiness. She screamed again, to which I warned, "If you don't keep quiet, I'll stuff a dirty sock in your mouth."

I manhandled her onto her front side, then moved forward to press a palm and all of my weight into the small of her back. "Settle down ... and I promise to make this as painless as possible."

She settled a bit, though I didn't expect it would last long after my next move: I grabbed her jeans at each hip, and in a swift move I jerked them beyond her buttocks all the way to her mid thigh.

Clara Barnes:

I ignored my rapist's warnings and pleasantries both, continuing to fight against his control the best I could while continuing to scream bloody murder. I didn't care that beyond this building the world might be coming to an end and no one had the time for me and my problems. I wasn't about to make this easy for him.

After he flipped me to my front side, he ripped my jeans off with ease. I screamed again, this time not just from anger and fear but from the pain caused by the tight fitting pants ripping down my soft, smooth skin. And sure enough, keeping his promise about what would happen if I didn't keep my mouth closed, I felt him move away from my body -- for a brief moment making me hope he changed his mind -- then return. I suddenly felt him grab a handful of hair and pull my head back. Instinctively I opened my mouth to scream and instead got a mouth full of cloth. Even though the rag was probably recently washed it still smelled and tasted of household cleaners. I tried to spit it out but couldn't. It would come to me over time but this was obviously not the first time this pig had raped an innocent woman.

Max

"I warned you," I said playfully stuffing the rag in her mouth. "But ooooh no, did you listen?"

I was hovering somewhere between I don't give a shit and I'd hate to get interrupted when it came to somebody discovering what was happening in the basement room. I really didn't expect that anybody would come bursting through the door at the sounds of her screams. Hell, the street was full of screaming people. But then if I had a choice between having to pull the Glock from the small of my back and shoot down a stranger to continue on with my fun and not having to shoot down a stranger to continue my fun, I would definitely go with the latter.

I grasped her pants and pulled them again several times until finally each leg of the jeans was free. Without even concerning myself with her thong, I grabbed her hips and lifted her buttocks upwards at the same time that I used my knees to part her own knees. It only took a moment of manhandling to have her in just the position that I wanted her, on her knees with her face buried in the mattress before her. I looked down at that small firm ass and groaned my appreciation, then reached a hand up between her thighs. After just a moment of probing between her legs, I sunk my middle finger deep in her wet, warm hole.

Clara Barnes

"I warned you ... But ooooh no, did you listen?"

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I was angry and scared, and the man about to rape me was acting as if he was a parent tsk-tsk'ing a child for getting hurt after doing something she'd been told not to do. If I wasn't already so distraught and furious -- and gagged -- I would have told him to go fuck himself.

But, of course, I was the one about to be fucked. I struggled against him, but -- with his overwhelming strength and my hands shackled and extended out before me, preventing me from being able to adequate position myself for a defense -- I knew there was simply nothing I could do but just prepare myself. I stopped fighting him, burying my face into the thin bedding over the very basic mattress. I was still sobbing, not that he or anyone else could hear it.

I felt his hand between my parted thighs, then at my pussy, then--

I groaned against the rag stuffed into my mouth as I felt myself being penetrated. Suddenly, a new thought exploding in my mind: disease! This guy was obviously just out of or just heading for prison. I'd heard so many stories about how sexually transmitted disease was rampant amongst prison populations. God knew what this guy had! HIV, Hepatitis, Syphilis. Hell, that new one ... oh what was it called? Zika, the one that messed up the brains of unborn babies. They said it had been found to be sexually transmitted, too. If this brute was infected, I'd never have children. Not healthy ones anyway.

All of this was running through my head as I was realizing that it was a finger inside my vagina, not the man's cock. I couldn't stop him from raping me, but maybe I could get him to wear a condom. But, what was the likelihood he'd be packing a rubber? I turned my head, left then right, as if I was going to miraculously locate a condom vending machine within view.

Suddenly, the calm that I'd been trying to instill in myself, knowing that my rape was imminent and unpreventable, was gone. I felt a new round of tears flood from my eyes as I yelled as well as I could against the gag, "Stop! Please stop!"

But ... he didn't ...

Tommy Lee:



19 July 2020
Day 2 of the virus's announcement:

I awoke still clutching Sharla's body to my own. I smiled at the feel of her ... then immediately became self conscious as my cock once again began hardening. As carefully as I could, I pulled back the blanket and slipped out from behind her. She awoke, but I only whispered softly, "Go back to sleep. It's still early."

I slipped away to the bathroom to pee, shower, and -- of course -- masturbate. I didn't usually worry about keeping my sounds of pleasure in check as I lived alone and the walls of the apartment building were pretty thick and well insulated. But this morning, I forced myself to remain as quiet as possible. Afterward, I got dressed in my bum about the house sweats and deer hide moccasins, then padded out to the kitchen to put on some coffee and make some breakfast. I lifted the screen of my laptop, woke it up, and booted up the internet news.

I was shocked!

I watched and listened intently, so much so that I forgot to watch the bacon and eggs and set off the smoke alarm. I rushed to the living room to tell the now wide awake Sharla, "It's all good! Just burnt breakfast."

When she was up and around and came to meet me in the kitchen, I told her, "You're not going to believe what they're saying now."

I sat her down to a freshly cooked, less burned breakfast as we watched the news on both the small flat screen on the wall and the laptop on the kitchen table. The reports were incredible:

Although the government had only confirmed the virus yesterday, people had been dying of the disease for almost two weeks. And now--

"I don't believe this," I told Sharla. "I just don't believe this. This is a joke. Someone's punkin' us."

According to sources close to the investigation of the disease and the bodies left in its wake, the dead were rising! Corpses that had been stored in sealed rooms until they could be further examined were now walking about! Alive! Like ... like..."

"Zombies," the news caster said for the fifth or sixth time. "Sources who wish to remain anonymous are saying that officials at the CDC are reporting that the dead are once again ... alive."

The report went on, but what amazed me were dozens of cell phone videos being shown on the news or posted to the internet showing zombie-like people running about the streets. You would have thought they were just regular people by their appearance and movement. They walked and ran like regular people. But ... then they sometimes took other people down to the ground ... and bit into them! One YouTube video showed a woman in a nice, professional outfit take a child down to the sidewalk and bite into his neck, spewing a fan of blood out upon herself, the kid, and the people trying to stop her. it was simply Gross.

Max Richards:

I couldn't understand the sexy brunette's words, but I new they were stop, stop, stop with maybe even a please or a don't thrown in. This wasn't my first rapin' rodeo, and while I liked to hear my victims bed and cry, I did often have to gag them to keep the incidents ... personal between us.

She seemed to be giving up, accepting that she couldn't stop this. I looked down upon her and liked what I saw. She'd turned her head to one side in an attempt to let her pleas be more easily heard, giving me a look at her face. She was a beautiful woman, with flawless skin and soft curves. Although I was currently looking at her backside, I'd gotten some good glances at her front side earlier. She was smallish in the tits, but my God, those nipples were huge and hard. I wanted to get her shirt off her and get an up close and personal look at her breasts, but ... that could wait.

What I was enjoying now, though, was that backside. She was a slim woman, sleek I guess the word was, with a tight round ass that I now caressed one rough skinned hand over while the fingers of the other hand continued to probe inside her pussy. The female body had a magical way of lubing itself for intercourse, even when that fucking wasn't the invited type. I was amazed at how wet and warm she was ... and I just couldn't wait any longer to be inside of her.

I jerked loose the knotted arms of my jail house jump suit, allowing it to fall away from my hips. A moment later, my boxers were also down and my solid cock was in my hands, being guided toward heaven. I grasped her hips in my strong hands, pressed the head of my cock at her wetness until I was properly positioned, then pushed. I heard and felt her reaction to my erection penetrating her. She wasn't quite ready, and I didn't get far that first thrust. I hesitated, pulled back just a hair, then pushed again, sinking another couple of inches inside ... then again ... then again.

"Oh God ... almighty ... girl," I groaned with my thrusts until finally we were fully bumping our uglies. I rammed hard and deep, moaning my delight at the feel of her tightness, telling her, "Fuck, girl. Your ... husband's ... a fucking ... lucky ... man!"

I hadn't gotten any in the several weeks of my most recent incarceration -- I wasn't a fan of guy-on-guy jail house sex -- so it didn't take long before I was feeling my orgasm already building in my groin. I moaned as I quickened and strengthened my thrusts, "Girl...! You're ... too much ... for me ... fuck...! You're gonna ... do me ... in ... do me ... oh, fuck, good ... you're doing me ... good!"

The pleasure rose so quickly that I almost didn't know my explosion was coming until it happened. I clutched her hips tightly and rammed my cock deep inside my Vic's tightness just as it leaped, spewing forth shot after shot of my thick ejaculate. I let out a long groan toward the ceiling, the euphoria of much needed sexual release erupting throughout my entire being. I simply held my cock deep inside her, reveling at the wonder ... until ... finally ... only the satisfied trembling and twitches of my shaft remained.

I slumped forward, pushing my partner to the mattress below us. I laid atop her for a long moment, still deep inside her, my face pressed into her long, wonderfully smelling hair, simply enjoying the intense pounding of my heart in the aftermath of my orgasm. I was in no hurry to pull out of her. It wasn't like we had anywhere to be, right?

I don't know how long we lay there, with my heavy bulk smashing her into the small bed. But my heart was nearly back to its regular pace and my cock was hovering somewhere around semi-flaccid before I lifted some of my weight upon on one elbow and reached to her face to pull back her hair with a gently touching, extended finger.

"My god, girl ... that was fantastic," I whispered close to her ear. I kissed her cheek in a way she probably wouldn't have expected from her rapist, then toyed the tip of my tongue against the lobe of her ear. I said with genuine appreciation, "I've never known a married chick with such a tight pussy. Doesn't your man fuck you enough?"

She couldn't answer me, of course, with the rag still securely shoved into her mouth. That was okay for me, though. I'd never really enjoyed a chatty lover. I didn't get naked with a woman to have a conversation after all. I leaned in and took the bottom of her ear into my lips, suckling it for a moment before whispering, "I wanna see your tits."

(OOC: Sending you a message. Read it before you reply, okay? )

Introducing Officer Ray Thomas:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/69/Police_officer_in_riot_gear.jpg

38 years old
5'10", 200 pounds; solidly built.

Currently: Sergeant, Coopersville Police Dept (CPD) (14 years).
Previously: Corporal, US Army (6 years).

History: grew up in Portland, Oregon. No family to speak of.

Personality: dedicated to protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty (and now undead).

Ray Thomas

It was all becoming hopeless. Fucking government announcement. Couldn't they have given us a little advanced warning...?

The announcement of the virus had led very quickly to social upheaval, marching, rioting, looting, killings...

And now, people were eating other people...!

Seriously!

It was happening! I was seeing it!

After a night of failing to contain the normal rioting and looting downtown, Command pulled all of its officers back to the station to regroup. As the sun rose, we were about to redeploy when right in front of the station we found three guys eating another guy. It was unbelievable!

We used a stun grenade to break it up, but that only worked for a minute or so. As we hurried out to the street to help the victim, the attackers writhed about on the ground for a moment ... then rose again in an attempt to go right back to eating the guy! One of the ERT members packing an automatic assault rifle riddled the crazies with bullets. They all three dropped, but ... they didn't die! Although some couldn't rise because bullets had ripped through their legs, they all tried to get to the bodies that we had pulled away from them.

Several of my fellow officers rushed out into the street and began shooting or beating the perpetrators with what ever we were packing. But the fight only attracted more of these crazy cannibals. We ended up in a serious fire incident that ultimately involved more than two dozen officers. I couldn't believe it. We were shooting down people left and right, and all they did was stand back up and come at us again.

"Head shots!" some one hollered. "Head shots!"

Pretty soon, we were all pumping rounds from pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles into the skulls of those coming at us. And after what seemed like forever, the action finally came to an end. We were surrounded by bodies, more than 60 of them, including eight of our own. Blood flowed over the pavement. Bodies were ripped apart, both by the damaging bullets and by the vicious cannibalistic attacks that continued even as we were shooting the attackers.

When I finally got a moment to take a breath, I instead leaned over and vomited all over myself. I dropped to my knees, trying not to look about myself until I'd recovered. Finally, I and my still living fellow officers gathered our dead and pulled them into the relatively safety of the Station.

We spent several minutes discussing what had happened when the unbelievable happened. A loud scream filled the lobby. As I rushed out expecting to find more of those crazies coming through the door, what I found instead was one of the dead ERTs now alive and biting into one of the living cop's necks, streaming blood out all over both of them. I put a bullet through the dead officer's brain, dropping him like a rock. But as I watched, the other dead officers began to rouse. They weren't dead at all. Or, they weren't dead still.

"Whadda we do?" I called to the others as they joined me in the lobby. "Whadda we do? They're cops!"

The sound of gunfire filled the room as some of my fellow officers pumped rounds into the brains of their former fellow officers. When it was all over, the Lieutenant stressed, "They weren't cops anymore."

We spent several minutes discussing, arguing, even crying before we began a serious conversation about what to do next. We were supposed to protect the community. It was our job. But, that battle was lost. There was only one thing left for us to do.

"Get our families here," the Lieutenant said. We spent the next several minutes calling family members, determining their security situations, and making a plan for using the fortified vehicles to get as many of them as possible back here to the station. Once we had a plan, the Lieutenant deployed what was now a Search and Rescue Team, saying, "Good luck."

I stayed behind to protect the station. I had no family in Coopersville to be rescued. I spent the morning helping a handful of others secure the lower floor and mount weapons in the windows of the upper floor and on the roof above. Every time I passed through the lobby past the neatly stacked bodies now lining one wall I cringed, thinking, What the fuck ... What the fuck is happening?

Sharla and Maria:

I awoke to the same delight as my host did, the feel of another person close to me. Despite my chosen career as a prostitute, I did enjoy the feel of a man (or even a woman) cuddled up close to me in the morning. As he rose, he quietly told me to go back to sleep, which I promptly did. I'd quickly developed a trust in Tommy that I couldn't explain. I wasn't always very trusting of strangers, maybe because they were usually wanting to do things to or with my body that I would have preferred not to do with a stranger. Oh well, it was part of the job.

Some time later, though, I sat upright quickly at the sound of an alarm filling the apartment. Tommy hurried into my view from the kitchen, informing me...

"It's all good! Just burnt breakfast."

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Even with my heart pounding fiercely, I couldn't help but laugh. I told him, "No worries. As a kid, that was how we knew mom was close to serving us dinner."

I took a few minutes in the bathroom, then raided Tommy's closet for a pair of loose fitting shorts and a tee shirt that hung loosely on me. Always eager to stun the men around me, I pulled the lower hem out before me and knotted it just below my bosom, exposing my midriff. I checked myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I smiled thinking, That means he will, too.

Returning to the kitchen, Tommy said with a tone of shock...

"You're not going to believe what they're saying now."

Click to expand...

The news was incredible. And the videos were simply outrageous. Zombies! It just couldn't be. That was simply impossible. Zombies were a Hollywood movie thing, a Halloween costume. They didn't exist. They couldn't exist. I just didn't believe it. And yet, there it was, right there on the screen.

We watched the news for quite a while, talking occasionally about the scenes.

"So ... what do we do?" I asked naively. "I ... I can't even ... I can't even imagine..."

Before he could answer, the cell phone sitting in the middle of the table began vibrating upon it. A picture of a young Latina appeared with the name Maria Valdez under it...



Maria waited for an answer, praying to God that Tommy would be able to help. When she heard his voice, she unnecessarily introduced herself. She asked if he was okay, then explained about her guest.

"Listen, Tommy, I have a favor to ask," she asked in a hesitant tone. "My apartment isn't a very safe place to be right now. I was wondering..."

She let the question hang, knowing that she was asking a lot of a man she barely knew, despite the frequent masturbatory interactions she'd had with him.

Clara Barnes

I hate you...

I fucking hate you...

I hate you ... and I'll kill you...

With ever thrust of my rapist's cock deep inside me, I silently chanted variations of those two things in my tortured mind. I may be at his mercy now, but should I live this day and get the opportunity, I was going to make this pig pay for each and every slam against my backside.

I didn't like this feeling of being so helpless. I had no control, over this moment, possibly over my future. I hated this feeling as much as I hated the man fucking me.

I was actually thankful when he sunk himself deep inside me and came. It was over. He'd gotten what he wanted, and now he would quit. Wouldn't he? He fell forward, his heavy muscular frame squishing me to the mattress. I gave out an oomph as he crushed me against the bed, not that you would have known the difference between that or any other sound I'd made into the gag rag. He just laid there for the longest time, still inside me, as I struggled to breath under his weight.

As I waited for him to get the fuck of and out of me, I contemplated what just happened to me. It wasn't just the horror of being raped. It was the fact that a man other than my husband had been inside me, let alone cum inside of me. I'd never been with any man other than Roger, willingly or not. If I lived through this, what was I supposed to say to him, to my husband?

If I lived through it...

Was this man just a rapist? Or was he a murderer, too? I thought back to the Sheriff's van. He'd killed to get it probably ... to get away. What would stop him from strangling me to death, or putting that gun he'd been carrying to my head and pulling the trigger?

After what seemed like forever, he complimented me for being such a great fuck -- Fuck you very much, I thought to myself -- then told me...

"I wanna see your tits."

Click to expand...

He rose up off of me, pulled his cock free, then rolled me roughly over to my front side. I considered fighting him again, but as that hadn't done much for me thus far, I simply let him do with and to me as he wanted. He pulled my tee shirt up to expose my breasts, staring at them with obvious appreciation. I should have closed my eyes, should have turned away at least. But for reasons I couldn't understand, I couldn't. I stared right into his eyes as he scooted up between my thighs, pushing my knees wide, opening my pussy. But it was my tits that took his interest for the moment, his hands caressing up my belly to grope them. He pinched my nipples, smiling the whole time.

And ... to my horror ... and delight ... I found that it felt so good ... that I didn't want him to stop.

What's wrong with me...?

Tommy Lee:

I looked up as Sharla entered the kitchen and couldn't help but give her a long up and down survey. Even in my clothes, which hung loose on her relatively smaller frame, I could see enough of her curves to feel my cock threatening to awake. She asked what we were supposed to do now, but before I could answer her my cell began vibrating before me. The image that appeared was of Maria Valdez, who lived downstairs.

"Oh shit," I responded quickly with a regretful tone. I had been so involved in my lust over Sharla that I'd entirely forgotten about my young neighbor. I answered, "Maria! Are you okay?"

The woman from the first floor asked me the same thing, then began telling me about Steve. I stood as if needing to sprint to her aid. It was just an instinct of mine, always being ready to move. I listened as she explained about his unexpected arrival, his injuries, and their current lack of security.

Without explaining what I was doing, I headed for my bedroom as I made specific inquiries of Maria: who's this guy, what do you know about him, is he armed, are those guys still in the hallway, and more. In my closet, I put my phone on speaker and set it down as I retrieved what I was after.

"Don't leave your apartment, Maria ... I'll come to you," I told her as I headed back to the kitchen. "Put together a couple of bags, what ever you can easily carry up the stairs." I knew she didn't like elevators, so I added, "We'll use the stairs, so ... don't go too heavy."

We exchanged our farewells, and I set the phone on the table, looking to Sharla as I pumped the assault style 12 gauge shotgun, filling the chamber. "Stay here, I'll be right back." I reached to the small of my back, pulled out a 9mm Glock, and held it out before me. "Do you know how to use one of these."

If she said yes, I would ensure there was a round in the chamber and give it to her. If she said no, I would show her how to click off the safety, adding Just point and pull the trigger ... but not at me, please. Either way, I would reassure Sharla that I'd be right back and would head downstairs.

Max Richards:

I'd always been a breasts man. Oh sure, legs and asses caught my attention, too. But a perfect set of firm tits, regardless of size, complimented by a large pair of pert nipples had always driven me crazy. I groped her smallish breasts and toyed with their nipples, smiling broadly as they hardened to my touch.

"You like that, huh?" I asked, pinching both nips between thumbs and fore fingers as I watched her eyes. "You're as hard as I am, sweetheart."

I was kind of surprised to find the beauty staring right into my eyes as I knelt between her parted legs, fondling her tits. I couldn't recall a woman who had ever wanted to look into my eyes as I was raping her. I kind of liked it, actually. Kind of. I had a pretty good idea that behind those eyes was some very intense hatred. And despite my physical superiority and current position of power over her, I wasn't stupid enough to believe that a determined woman could cause me some serious harm ... or even death.

"Round two, baby," I told her as I moved my hands into the crooks of her knees and lifted her knees toward her head, causing her pussy to rise before me. Glancing at her rag filled mouth, I joked, "Tell me what you want, baby. All I want is for you to be happy."

Eager to see if she maintained her eye contact with me, I skillfully maneuvered the head of my now stiff again cock to her opened folds and rammed it almost hilt deep inside her in one movement. I watched and listened to her reaction, pulled back, then rammed forward again. I fucked her harder and longer this time, pulling out just before I came to spurt my load all over her belly and breasts, just for the hell of it.

Sharla:

"Oh shit ... Maria! Are you okay?"

Click to expand...

I was intrigued by Tommy's reaction to learning who was calling him. I knew about the texts he'd received yesterday from the young woman downstairs, but when he hadn't done anything more concerning her other than simply reply to her texts, I assumed she wasn't someone for whom he had or felt any responsibility. Now, I wondered. I'd only gotten a glance at Maria's image on the phone before Tommy lifted it to his ear to answer. She was pretty. Very pretty. And I immediately found myself jealous, a feeling that only increased ten fold when he told her...

"Don't leave your apartment, Maria ... I'll come to you...

Click to expand...

He headed away from me without a word to me and without even a glance. I knew it was silly but I couldn't help but think to myself Call someone else, bitch. This man's mine. And I couldn't help but chuckle softly to myself a moment later, thinking, Wow, is this what the end of the world does to a woman? I felt as if I'd suddenly been transported 200 years into the past, when it was thought that every women had to have a man to support and protect her.

I grew a bit concerned when Tommy returned with his shoulder holding his cell to his ear because his hands were busy with a scary looking shotgun. This was no let's go kill a duck gun like my father and grandfather had had when I was a little girl. This looked more like something the army or a police SWAT team would use. I wasn't totally unfamiliar with guns, but I still flinched a bit when Tommy jacked a shell into the shotgun's chamber.

"Stay here, I'll be right back ... Do you know how to use one of these."

Click to expand...

"Of course," I said, reaching out my with the presumption that he was going to hand it to me. "I used to go to the range with a--" I almost said client but caught myself. Off and on for several years I'd been fulfilling the sexual needs of a Captain in the Seattle Police Department. (Ironically, he was with the Vice Squad.) Although we had spent the night curled up in one another's arms, Tommy still didn't know I had been a call girl, presumably past tense. And I seriously doubted that it would benefit me to share that information right now. So I finished my thought, "I used to shoot with my Dad."

Tommy handed me the weapon, and with familiarity I repeated what my host had done with the shotgun, jacking a round into the chamber. I clicked the safety off, then back on, then asked, "Do you have a holster for this, just in case I need my hands free to help your friend with her bags."

There was a very short and very unsatisfactory conversation about what I was offering: to go with Tommy to Maria's. Tommy was against it, and -- to be honest -- I didn't fight him on it very hard. I'd felt it my responsibility to at least offer, but the thought of being beyond that nicely secured door scared the crap out of me.

"Fine," I said, setting the Glock on the table and dropping into a chair, "you go rescue your friend, and I'll guard the fort."

I was going to just sit there as Tommy left, but as he was dealing with the locks keeping us safe, I hurried from the kitchen through the living room to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pressed my body against his as I kissed him full on the lips for a couple of seconds. I pulled my face back to look at him from an intimate distance for a couple of more seconds, then pulled entirely back from him, saying softly, "Don't get killed before you get a chance to know me better ... okay?"

I turned and padded bare footed back across the living room to the kitchen without turning back to look at him. I had a wide smile on my face as I thought Think about that as you're down there rescuing your cute little Latina.

Clara:

I was hating myself for enjoying the pleasure my rapist was giving me, kneading my breasts and fondling my nipples. But I couldn't fight the desire to have him continue. The pleasure may have been visible in my eyes, or he may have just been continuing to play with me when he asked...

"You like that, huh? You're as hard as I am, sweetheart."

Click to expand...

I continued to stare him directly in the eyes as one side of my brain screamed I'm gonna kill you, you little fucker and the other side begged Don't stop, please don't stop. What the hell was wrong with me? This man had just raped me. I should want nothing less than for a squad of CPC cops to burst through that door and fill this man with bullets. And yet, I was enjoying his touch in the way I hadn't enjoyed a man's touch in a long while.

"Round two, baby ... Tell me what you want, baby. All I want is for you to be happy."

Click to expand...

I doubted that very much, obviously, and yet I wasn't entirely dissatisfied when he rammed his cock back into me and began fucking me hard and fast. I hadn't looked directly at his erection, but from the feel of it filling me up, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was a monster, at least relative to Roger's. Maybe it wasn't huge. Maybe it was just because I was being raped...? No. No, as he slammed his groin into mine, sinking his cock deeper than my husband could have imagined getting, I knew it was an impressive piece of meat.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to begin building within me. My brain was tied up in mixed thoughts about how I wanted this man beaten and bleeding and begging for mercy ... and how I wanted him to keep driving that big prick of his into me until I exploded in an ecstasy Roger had never been able to cause me without my own fingers on my clit, helping him along. I was moaning, then crying into the gag as the pummeling of my pussy continued, and finally I closed my eyes as I realized that this fucker was going to make me orgasm. I found my brain chastising me, Don't cum ... you can't cum! This is wrong! You can't cum to this man... At the same time I both wanted this to end and to never end.

And as I began to be certain that I would achieve a phenomenal climax, suddenly it was over! I felt my rapist pull out of me, and a moment later I felt the warmth of his ejaculate splashing upon the skin of my breasts, then my belly, then my shaven groin. I didn't open my eyes. I kept them tightly closed. I didn't want him to see the disappointment in my eyes...

(FYI: My writing partner seems to have disappeared, so I'm going to be as polite as I can be about writing his character in this post.)


Maria:

I pressed the red icon on my cell, looking to my patient to say, "The cavalry is coming."

I laughed, explained that Tommy was coming down to help us, and suggested that we put together some stuff to take with us. Steve was still in pain and all bandaged up and down the front of his torso, so carrying a lot wasn't going to be an option for him. I laughed, telling him, "I'll fill a back pack with my ... unmentionables, and you can carry that."

By the time Tommy got to my door, we were as ready as we could be. Steve had on my day hiking pack, filled with clothing, first aid materials, and the most important item you could pack in an apocalyptic situation, several rolls of 2 ply toilet paper. In one hand he had a bed roll I'd made for him: pillow, sheet, and two blankets wrapped tightly by the strings I'd cut from my vertical blinds.

My roomie was a weekend back packing type, with all the gear to make a couple of days in the wilderness relatively comfortable. Her pack was always filled, just in case one of her hill climbing buddies called her on a Friday afternoon and said Let's go! All I had to do was add some more clothes of my own, all of the food worth packing up 3 flights of stairs, my electronics, and the various flashlights and candles scattered about the rooms from the last storm caused black out.

"We're ready, I guess," I told Steve, helping him into the lighter pack and helping him sit down to wait. "How do you feel? Can you do this?"

As I studied him, listening to his response about his wounds and energy level, I couldn't help but think again about how radically and quickly our world was changing and about how I wanted to finally change, too ... meaning, finally lose my virginity. The question that had been bouncing through my mind since finding Steve at my apartment -- or, more specifically, since I'd concluded he wasn't going to die at my apartment -- was whether it would be Steve who claimed my virginity ... or Tommy. I hadn't been ready for the latter. He was ... well, he was such a man. That hard, rough look in his face. That equally hard body (which I'd spied on several occasions as he swam in the complex's pool). The whole biker persona (though I wasn't entirely sure whether you called him a biker or motorcycle enthusiast. Didn't biker imply that he was in a bike gang, or I guess they call them motorcycle clubs.)

I was ready to make that next leap, the one into womanhood, so far as having a man's penis inside my vagina made me a woman. I know that it's an old fashion idea that that was what would make me a woman, but I'd grown up in an old fashioned family, so that was what I knew. What was ironic was that the reason I was ready was Steve. Having him in my apartment, tending to his wounds, having my hands upon his body as I cleaned and patched him. So, why was I suddenly yearning Tommy? Was it because of his bad boy persona? If I'm going to do wrong -- commit a horrific sin, as my parents would see it -- shouldn't I do it as wrong as I could? Giving my virginity to Steve would be wrong, but giving it to Tommy would be the ultimate bad. He was definitely the one man near me who my father and mother would tell me to stay the hell away from. (Of course, they didn't know that one floor down and in the opposite corner of the building was an escaped convict, currently raping a woman he'd snatched off the streets.)

Introducing Penelope "P-Dub" Wang:

Her picture -- I don't know how to make it smaller to fit the page, so I am doing it as a link rather than an image.

Physical Description:

• 22 years old.
• 5'3", 101 pounds, 30B-24-30.
• Multiple tattoos, most in intimate areas, many sexual in nature.

Personality:

• Very outgoing, very confident, very self assured.
• A bit too talkative she's often been told.
• Very flirty. Likes women as much as men, maybe even more.

Her History:

• Grew up in a predominantly Chinese-American neighborhood of Los Angeles, learning English, Spanish, Cantonese, and Mandarin.
• Began singing and dancing as a little girl.
• Began competitions in both as a young teen.
• At 13, 15, and 16, put out online singles that got her some attention, though no great fame.
• At 17, she placed 2nd in an "American Idol"-like online music competition.
• At 18, she was signed to a Girl Group called One World:
  • It included 6 girls of various ethnicities, an attempt to play on the growing racial divides that were tearing at society.
  • While their one and only album sold well and won 6 awards (including a Peoples Choice and a Grammy for Best New Group), it was dismissed by critics.
  • During the production of their second album, the producers suddenly pulled the plug and disbanded the group.
• "P-Dub" continued her solo singing career:
  • She sang mostly as a guest on other artists' songs and albums.
  • She had one Top 40 song that was nominated for several music and video awards but won none.
  • She had one online video that caught a lot of attention as she was nude through most of it, showing off her tattoos in up close and personal camera shots that barely escaped the Censors' ire.
  • At 20, she put out an album entirely in Cantonese and did a 6 month tour of China. (It was scheduled for 9 months but after not being well received was cut short.)
• At 22, she was in Coopersville as a Celebrity Judge for a second-tier music competition when she was arrested for cocaine possession.
• The virus broke out while she was awaiting bail.

Steve

Tommy was the kind of guy I had always stayed well away from in my bar crawls, and for good reasons. Now, though, he could be our only chance to make it out of there alive. He was armed, too, so my shotgun shells would not go to waste... as they would have in my hands. I hated the idea of fighting, or, even worse, killing, another human being, and I was glad to have someone do my killing for me.

"Hi, Tommy, I am Steve. I live on a farm outside of town, and...well, it's a long story. Maria here patched me up."

He seemed friendlier than your usual biker type. Caring, almost, especially when he was talking to Maria. Still, I was very glad he was not my enemy.

"If you need more ammunition for your gun, I happen to have bought a few boxes of shells. Help yourself. To tell you the truth, I can't shoot anyway."

The pack on my back was not very heavy, and the wounds were barely bothering me anymore. It was good to be in a group, even if it was a group of total strangers. None of us knew how long we would have to hold out, but from the sounds outside, it would be some time. A very stupid part of me was disappointed that Tommy would be with us. Being alone with Maria, with this beautiful girl totally dependent on me for protection... now that he was here, it was clear who would be the protector, and it was not the farmer who hated guns. That was only a very small, stupid part of me, though. For the most part, I was grateful to have this man with us. Someone who knew how to shoot, someone who had seen some shit (at least he looked like he had).

Peace was over. I knew it. We were in a war now, and I was still not sure who the enemy was. Just a short time ago, I had driven my tractor over long, lonely fields, a city boy at heart, always a bit bored with this town. Now it was so very, very interesting. What was the rest of the country like? Was there even anyone still alive in the big cities if it looked like this here? What little I had caught from radio and television - at least they were still running! - was confusing and worrying. Violence everywhere, total chaos. What kind of disease was this? Some people were talking about Zombies already. Zombies! If this was true, if this disease somehow turned people super-violent, or something, then we were truly, to quote my dad, fucked. How could we survive that? No matter if it was true or not, we had to take care not to get infected. If there were really zombies outside, then our first supply run would be exciting. And it looked as if we would soon have to make one, if we wanted to or not.

Tommy Lee

I couldn't help but be impressed with Sharla's handling of the Glock. I hadn't expected her to be a gun enthusiast. Imagine if I'd also known she was a prostitute. A gun toting call girl...? Really? That would have been a possible amazement but Sharla's sudden kiss was a real amazement. I hadn't expected it at all, and when she pulled away and hinted that more was too come if I returned, I almost didn't want to leave at all.

I did, though. I needed to get to Maria and -- as it was -- her house guest.

I lived on the 4th of 6 floors, so I had three flights of stairs to descend to get to Maria. One of the nice security features of the building was that you couldn't access the building, the upper floors, or the elevator without a physical key or an electronic key card. (Well, you could bust in the front door, I guess, and that was, of course, what had happened. The automatic rifle fire that had injured Maria's guest had left the door unsecure, allowing him and anyone who followed onto at least the first floor.)

I was very careful and quiet in my movements as I descended toward Maria's. I peeked through the little windows of fire doors, checked the halls, cracked doors, looked around corners, and moved slowly and quietly down stairwells. And soon enough I was finally at the stair well door of the 1st floor. I hadn't seen anything so far that alarmed me, with the exception of one wide open apartment door, beyond which every thing looked pretty normal.

But stepping out into the first floor hall was a different story, one that caused my stomach to turn over! I stepped back into the stair well and tossed my cookies. When I'd regained my composure, I forced myself to walk past the three dead bodies amongst the damage of a night's worth of looting to get to Maria's door. I knocked softly, then stepped out enough to allow the young Latina to see me in her peep hole. A moment later, her door opened. I hurried inside and, for the first time ever, gave her a tight, friendly hug with one arm as I held the shotgun at the ready in the other. I asked yet again, "You okay?"

As she responded I was looking about for Maria's guest. My biggest fear had been that Maria was being held against her will or was being duped and -- once I entered -- her guest would mow me down with his own weapon. But nothing horrific happened. In fact, this Steve guy was very friendly, very accommodating, and very helpful, handing me a couple boxes of ammo that thankfully matched my own weapon's size.

"Tommy ... Tommy Lee," I said taking his hand. We took a minute to discuss our next steps and review what Maria had packed, then I took Maria's big pack and suggested she take Steve's. I returned to the door, then hesitated to tell them, "You should know that there are bodies in the hallway. I just ... I just wanted you to know."

I looked to each of them for their reactions, asked Maria about her Lady Smith, then asked, "Shall we?"



"This is Sharla," I told the pair when we reached my apartment again. Looking to my guest I said, "This is Maria, my neighbor ... and Steve, her patient, I guess."

I let them exchange their greetings as I laid out the packs on the kitchen table to unload them. Maria had made some great choices of what was worth packing up three flights. I'd hoped there would be more food, but I had no idea that she lived off fast food and microwavable, packaged goods. We'll be okay, I told myself, thinking we only had to tough out a few days, maybe a week, before the Authorities got every thing under control again.

God, would I be wrong.

Sharla and Maria:

(OOC: When you see Maria's picture, imagine her in a button up tee shirt and oversized jean shorts that show off her cleavage and legs (respectively); and when you see Sharla's picture, imagine her in that very same top and tight fitting yoga pants.)


I extended my hand to the newly arrived woman as Tommy closed the door behind them. "Nice to meet you, Maria. I'm glad you're safe."

She was incredible! No wonder Tommy had been so anxious to save her. I couldn't help but wonder whether the two of them were lovers. Had been, maybe. If they still were, he wouldn't have waited to get her up here, of course. I reached a hand to the man entering. "Steve, nice to meet you, too. Come with me, let's get you comfortable."

I knew he'd been injured, and while I couldn't see the largest of bandages inside his shirt, but the smaller ones on his arms and neck told the story well enough. I would make him comfortable on the couch and offer him food or drink if he wanted it.

Once the pair were settled, I made my way to the kitchen where Tommy was unloading Maria's loot. I stepped up to him, though not intimately close. The kiss earlier had occurred before I thought Tommy might be taken. When he looked up to me, I had a smirk on my lips. I said with an obvious tone, "She's pretty."

My smirk widened as I toyed with some of the goods on the table, adding, "I'd risk my life to save her, too."



I couldn't know, of course, that I was thinking the same thing about the gorgeous blonde as she was thinking about me. I watched her walk into the kitchen. Well, stared at her walking into the kitchen. What was wrong with me? For two months I'd lived 3 floors below Tommy and not only had I not tried to get anything going with him but I'd actually avoided him as often as possible, fearing him for reasons that were probably more irrational than rational.

And now I was jealous? That just didn't make any sense. I looked to Steve, to the handsome hunk that I knew better after less than one day better than I knew Tommy after two months. And I wondered, What the hell is wrong with you? I smiled and went over to him, saying, "I should check the bandages."

If he let me, I would invite him to the bathroom to remove his shirt so that I could check his wounds...

Penelope "P-Dub" Wang:

I woke up in pain, my muscles aching and my head pounding. I sat up to find myself in a jail cell. I mumbled, called, and finally screamed, "What the hell...? What the hell...? WHAT ... THE ... HELL?"

I moved to the bars and screamed for attention for several minutes. There didn't seem to be anyone else in the jail, and no guard responded to my noise. I'd just about given up when I heard a heavy metal lock click in the distance. A moment later, a big black cop came around the corner and up to my cell.

"What the hell's going on?" I asked, honestly having no memory of being arrested. The last thing I recalled, I was at a party celebrating a music competition I was a judge at. "What am I doing in here? Am I under arrest? What did I do?"

Steve

I let her check my bandages. I smiled as I registered that she was checking out so much more than just them. I had absolutely nothing against following her to the bathroom. Of course. And even less against removing my shirt. She checked my wounds very thoroughly...

"You are good at this. Is this the first time a guy jumps through the door?"

A stupid joke, I knew, but I could not think of anything wittier to say as this hot girl was taking her time with my body; after all, my blood was mostly somewhere else. When she was done checking, I kept the shirt off and gave her a hug. A thank-you hug, but so much more than that. I could feel her heart beat against my chest as I pressed her closer.

I wished more than anything else that this moment could take longer, but we had to organise our defense first. She was amazing, and I wanted to be with her forever, but we did not have forever.

As I put on my shirt again, I tried to consign every detail to my memory, to treasure it: The loving care with which her nimble fingertips had run over every little cut and scrape. The concern in her eyes when she had seen the bigger wounds. The initial shyness at touching my naked chest. The feeling of her breath on my skin as she had leaned in to inspect me more closely. It would hold me over until we had more time.

This woman caused something in me. Something more than just a wish to protect her. I was not crazy enough to thank this...zombie apocalypse, or whatever was going on for bringing us together, but it was one of the few good things about this situation, something to hold on to. Something to smile about. That was not hard with her by my side.

My wounds were inspected and rebandaged now. She really had done a very good job of it. Come to think of it, I had never asked her about her job. Maybe she was a nurse or something?

"But seriously, do you work in a hospital or something like that? You really are good at this patching-up thing. Sorry if I asked you already. I was not really all that conscious."

The organiser in me took over again. Having someone with some medical skills on our "team" (as I had come to think of it by now) would be invaluable. If that disease was anywhere near as bad as the news made it sound, we would be lost without one.