"Alone Together" (closed)

LoriDean12345

Literotica Guru
Joined
Feb 18, 2016
Posts
586
"Alone Together"

CLOSED


Ella Ross
28 years of age
5'6", 34B-26-36
Red hair, hazel eyes
Image


April 2020
Six months after the Sickness:


Ella found it a bit conflicting to feel awe at the marvel of the Rockies. They were a marvel upon which to lay one's eyes early in the morning. At the same time, though, the mountains had joined forces with Mother Nature in an attempt to kill her over the harsh and thankfully now ended winter.

But she'd survived. Ella had rationed what remained of the packaged food. And trapped enough rodents -- both inside and outside of the log cabin -- to fend off starvation. She guessed her weight loss since November at around 15 pounds. Of course, she'd needed to lose about 10 pounds anyway, so, a little dieting hadn't killed her. She would have lost more -- maybe even starved to death -- if her husband and their infant hadn't died early in the weeks following the apocalypse. Yet another conflict in Ella's mind: she missed Robert and little Megan so horribly, yet their deaths had allowed her to survive. Bitter sweet.

April, she thought to herself. The slope below her had exploded in color over the last few days. How long had it been since she'd seen other people? They'd hurried away from Denver the day the Sickness reached it; they'd run into people on the road over the next week or so; after that, there had been those two men with the Jeep. She calculated, telling herself, December ... mid-December. Since before Christmas ... not counting Rob and Meg.

Ella missed people sometimes. She'd always been a social butterfly. But, these days, people were often little more than an imminent danger. She and Robert had been robbed twice, once at gunpoint, another at knife point; and they'd been assaulted once, with Ella nearly being raped. They'd also been shot at from a distance three times, by people upon whom Ella and Robert had never laid eyes.

With virtually no production taking place -- no food or other goods -- people were desperate to get and keep possession of anything and everything upon which they could lay their hands. Ella reentered the log cabin again, stopping to give it a quick survey. It wasn't much, but it was a lot more than many had. It was a single room, about 13x10 on the interior. A counter and shelves along one end served at a kitchen. A bed along the other end and a hanging rod for clothes was the bedroom, in a sense. A wood stove stood dead in the middle of the room. A table with two old wooden chairs at one wall near the stove was the dining room; an old couch near the stove along the opposite wall was the living room.

Simple but functional.

Much of the remaining floor space was occupied by this, that, and the other thing. Before his death, Robert had been taking hikes through the countryside, looking for anything that might be of value to them; and after his death, Ella had been doing the same. They'd brought home a lot of stuff they thought might one day serve a purpose. Most of it simply occupied space, though. Ella should probably toss it all outside one day. But, for now, it was doing no harm so why waist the time and energy?

No, Ella had more important things to consider. In addition to the near-extinction of the Human race, it now seemed as though the rest of Mother Nature's creatures were taking a hit as well. Could the virus have mutated to attack non-human animals as well? Ella had only survived the winter because of the animals caught in the snares she set within safe walking distance of the cabin. And yet now that winter's worst was gone and she could once again used them, the snares were yielding nothing. She'd seen a small doe a few days ago, but since had seen nothing. Even the birds seemed scarce.

Ella was going to have to expand her hunting territory. And that disturbed her. The cabin's location was deep in the woods away from any roads or maintained trails. She could probably remain here hidden for all of eternity ... if she could feed herself, that was.
 
Last edited:
Donovan Williams
Age 36
6'1" 210 lbs
Donovan

“Breathe… just Breathe...” he said to himself. Leaning against the uprooted base of the large pine tree, Donovan looked at Amy who was crouched next to him. She wasn't his daughter, but damn it if she wasn't his responsibility. A bullet wizzed over their heads, chunks of wood and dirt rained over their heads. Their former friends had finally made their true intentions known, and Donovan wasn't about to let it happen.

Shouting over the noise, he yelled back “Fuck You Marcus! I knew your word was worth shit!”

A deep throated laugh came back at him, until about ten minutes ago, he'd thought they'd found safety in numbers, now they were just out numbered,if only slightly.

“All we wanted was a taste of the sweet peach… we'd have let you both live, if you'd only let us have a taste..”

Donovan knew their kind, in the 15 years he'd been on the force he'd run across all sorts of scumbags. Now six months after the world came down aroudn their ears, it seemed to have brought out the wost in people. With is left hand he took the Glock from Amy, she'd loaded a fresh mag into the pistol and racked the slide. His right arm was curled against his chest, the bullet from Marcus' gun had gone clean through his shoulder, it would hurt like hell, but he'd survive, maybe. Rounding the edge of the collapsed tree, Donovan took sight of one of the three men who'd been shooting at them. The man, who Donovan believed was named Chris was planekd behind a pine tree just a bit too narrow to provide adequate cover. Taking sight, Donovan took aim at the man's head and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit him clean in the face, just under the left eye, a look of shock crossed the man's face as he dropped to the ground, falling into the brush.

“That's one Marcus…!!” A hale of bullets ate at the base of the pine tree, Donovan knew they were probably reloading, and between the two of them he'd lost count as to how many rounds had been shot at them. Giving the pistol over to Amy she layed out , just like he'd taught her, bringing the gun up, she fired a few rounds back at them and he could distinctively hear someone fall and start screaming. She'd hit whoever she was aiming at in the legs. Only then did she follow up with additional shots and silence him.

“Back off Marcus,” Donovan announced.. “Go your way.. we'll go ours.”

“Not a chance asshole!!” Marcus screamed, Donovan could hear a rush of movement, followed by a hale of bullets as marcus ran at their position. He jumped up the top of the fallen pine tree trying to take them out from higher ground. Taking the pistol from Amy Donovan motioned for her to grab some dirt and quickly throw it over head as a distraction. When she did, Donovan rolled out to his right sighted Marcus and opened fire, emptying the magazine into the man.

Once Marcus was down, the two of them surveyed what was left.

“I hate to speak ill of the dead, but in this case, fuck'm.. pillage their packs, we'll need whatever we can carry.”

–--
It had been three days since their little shoot out with Marcus, they'd trekked over Berthoud pass, heading hopefully toward what was left of Winter Park, they might find survivors there, doubtful but if they were going to hold up in any place that might be it, or in Grand Lake, but he doubted they'd make it that far. The hiking was slow now, maybe half the pace they'd been going originally since he'd been shot. He'd lost blood, they'd stuffed the wound with gause, used a quick clot to try and stave off the bleeding and as much as it was helpful, he was now weighing her down. He knew, Amy could make it on her own, just that he felt responsible for her.

Two years ago he'd met her mom, there'd been a social function at the High School he'd volunteered a shift as an SRO at and they'd hit off. She'd been reluctant to date a cop, he'd been reluctant to date a woman with a teenage daughter. But after a few times getting together, they'd figured it out and Amy could tolerate him, and eventually at least from him point of view she possibly got to like him, and trust him. Then the whole world went to shit. They hadn't truly been close before, but watching someone you love die of a horrible disease does something. Creates a certain unspoken bond.

He'd had to stop, fallen down a few steps and rolled half way down the mountain. During the little misadventure his service pistol had slipped out of the holster lost into the wilderness. He was now a liability, and knew what he had to do. Taking her hands in his he gave it to her honestly.

“My ribs are either cracked or broken, I think the wound reopened up in the fall.. I can't move Amy.. You've got to leave me here. Go on, find survivors, I'm sure there are some here. But I can't move. I'll only slow you down.“

He'd had to give people notice that their loved ones had died in violent ways.. he'd never thought this day would come when he'd be telling Amy to go on without him.
 
Last edited:
Amy Lee
18 years of age
5'4", 32B-22-34
Light brunette, bleached lighter by both the sun and the bottle.
Hazel-green eyes.
(Image below.)


This is YOUR fault! Amy chastised herself in silence. YOU did this. YOU caused this, you stupid, selfish, ignorant, naïve ... BITCH!

She flinched again at the sound of continuing gunfire. The big fallen pine was providing her relative safety. But looking to her right, Amy knew that that safety had come too late. The splotch of red on Donovan's shirt was spreading. He was putting up a courageous front. For her, Amy was certain. But he was going to die. Either he would pass out and then bleed out, leaving her alone; or the men would encircle them, kill Donovan, and ... well, Amy already knew what they were going to do to her. She couldn't even think the word to herself.

And it's your fault! she continued to criticize herself.

Amy's mother had died early in the Sickness, leaving her with no one to care for her; no family, no close friends. No one but Donovan. He'd only been her mother's boyfriend. And yet he stepped up and taken care of Amy for the past six months as the world fell apart.

Which was the reason Amy felt so responsible for their current situation. Donovan had always put her first. When they found food, she always ate first. When they found shelter, Donovan let her sleep first, in the warmest, most comfortable place while he himself stood the first watch; when they traded goods or services with strangers, her wants and needs always came before his own.

And when Amy pressured Donovan to find, join, and become part of a community, Donovan agreed. They'd checked out three that didn't pan out for one reason or another. Then they found Marcus and his group living in a the main house and cabins of a former Dude Ranch, where the city slickers used to come to learn to ride horses and say yeehaw with over exaggerated Western accents. Marcus had seemed to be an honest man; a bit serious and formal about the community but fair. And his people had shown Amy and Donovan only kindness in the beginning.

Amy fell in love with the place almost immediately. And for good reason; being barely 18, cute, and sweet with a young, sexy body, she was getting all kinds of attention from the males of the ranch. And she learned that if she flirted just a little bit with the guys who had access to the community more limited resources, they were happy to give her a little more.

But this wasn't high school, where Amy could pay off a given favor by kissing a boy on the cheek or sitting with him at lunch time to boost his ego before the other students. It soon became obvious that some of the males -- even some of the old men -- were expecting far more than flirtation from Amy. The hungry ogles and suggestive comments began to make Amy fear for her safety ... and for her virginity.

Then came this morning. Marcus's sex toys, a woman named Marla, had learned that Amy's recent 18th birthday had gone without a party. She and another woman took Amy to the latter's cabin and treated her to a head-to-toenails makeover. When they'd finished, Amy felt more pretty and clean than she had since the apocalypse began. Then they presented her with a new clothes. She laughed nervously at first; they were so revealing and sexy, and the undergarments consisted of a tiny thong and no bra. When they were done and she stepped before a full length mirror, Amy couldn't believe how she looked.

dhNuMjT.jpg

"It's like the world didn't end at all, and I'm heading down to the lake," Amy mused, turning this way and that. She laughed and blushed as she realized how obvious her nipples were through the thin cotton. "My mother would have killed me if she'd seen me in this."

Amy thought she was going to have to fight off tears at the thought of her long lost mother. But she didn't really have time for that. Marla opened the bedroom door and said to an unseen person, "She's ready.

When Amy turned to look, Marcus was sitting in the living room. He stood and looked Amy's way, and suddenly she realized what this had all been about.

The next few minutes were just a blur to Amy. She remembered Marcus coming into the bedroom, ogling her hungrily; she remembered hitting him and running; she remembered Donovan suddenly being outside the cabin; she remembered angry yells, threats, running, and gunfire.

Somehow they'd gotten away from the buildings and through the fence and up the hill. The gunfire had continued, and then they were here, behind a huge fallen tree, with Marcus and his men in pursuit ... and with Donovan's shirt turning red.

He fired down hill, then handed the Glock to Amy, telling her to keep their pursuers at bay. Amy was no stranger to guns, of course. After all, a cop had lived in her house for almost two years. Donovan had taught her to shoot, clean, and otherwise care for the weapons he kept back in Denver. And after the end of the world presented its new dangers, Donovan had stressed to Amy that one day she herself might have to use a gun against another human being.

She had reassured him that if the need arose, she could do it. But honestly, until this moment, Amy hadn't thought she could do it. Not until now; not until Marcus had been about to rape her and make him her new sex toy. She rose up from behind the log, found movement, and fired three rounds. She dropped back to the ground, and beyond the log she could hear her target crying out in agony.

She'd done it. She'd shot another person. She looked to her hands, expecting to find them shaking. But they weren't. They were calm as could be. She remembered another thing Donovan had told her: If you're going to shoot, shoot to kill. Ignoring the rounds coming their way, Amy rose from behind the log again, aimed, and fired one more round. She laid back down and found that the man's sobs had ceased.

She looked to Donovan. Was she supposed to feel accomplishment? Or, should she feel shame? She'd likely just killed a man. That was so wrong. But then she remembered, they were trying to kill her. More rounds came their way, and Donovan waggled his hand for the Glock. Amy handed it over, and a moment later the fire fight was over. Amy slid over to her protector to look at his wounds. She very nearly vomited as she saw blood spurt out of the hole in his chest.

“I hate to speak ill of the dead," Donovan told her. "But in this case, fuck'em ... pillage their packs, we'll need whatever we can carry.”

"We have to stop the bleeding!" Amy stressed, fighting back tears. "Sit back and don't move! I'm on this."

As Donovan watched over her with his Glock, Amy moved from one dead man to another, searching them for anything of use to stem Donovan's bleeding. The men who had been on watch and had joined Marcus had had packs on, as Amy had noticed was typical. She found a first aid kit and some clean tee shirts. She was able to pack Donovan's wounds and wrap them. But what he really needed was to be stitched up.

Amy almost wanted to go back down into the camp to get help. But Marcus had had a control over those people that Amy had come to fear. They weren't about to provide assistance to the pair who'd killed their leader. She made Donovan sit and rest while she went through the rest of the men's packs and pockets. They didn't honestly have much: a bit of food, a bit more water, some pot, some pills, a couple of big knives, and condoms of all things.

She searched for weapons and ammunition and was disappointed. There had been four men in all chasing them. But in the thick brush of the steep hillside, Amy could only find two of their weapons. One rifle was jammed, and no matter how hard Amy worked to clear the spent shell, it just wouldn't come out. The second had fallen into a crevasse in the rocks and even with a hooked limb she couldn't get to it. She might have reached it if she'd spent more time on it. But Donovan was bleeding to death, or so Amy was certain. So, all she got out of the search was a clip and a half of 9mm that would work in Donovan's own Glock and 9 rounds of .223 that she presumed went to the jammed rifle, which she threw over her shoulder just in case.

They packed up anything and everything else of worth and headed away.




The end of the third day, as they searched for shelter, Donovan shocked the teen with, "I can't move Amy. You've got to leave me here. Go on, find survivors, I'm sure there are some here. But I can't move. I'll only slow you down."

"I'm not leaving you here to die!" Amy cried to Donovan. She pleaded to him to try to go on, and he assured her that she'd be okay on her own. Finally, after an untold number of dramatic minutes, she told him, "I'll go in the morning. But, I'm not leaving you. I'm only going for help."

Amy spent the next couple of hours plus another one at sunrise preparing Donovan for a couple of days alone. She used a small tarp they'd found in an abandoned car on a logging road the day before to create a rain cover for him. She built a fire pit just before the lean-to and gathered firewood for several days. She'd already discarded the heavy, jammed rifle, and Donovan's own Glock was missing after a fall down a hill; she left him with one of the big knives they'd taken off the men they'd killed and also sharpened a couple of limbs to serve as spears in case a predator approached him.

After leaving most of the food and water with him, Amy loaded up one of the packs for herself. She changed clothes again. She'd been wearing a pair of pants, shirt, and coat they'd taken off the men they'd killed together. But now she changed into some better fitting clothes -- still men's wear, unfortunately -- that they'd found in a suitcase in an overturned car.

Then she surprised them both before she turned to leave by grasping Donovan's face in her hands and kissing him full on the lips.

"I love you," she told him. "I'll be back. Don't die on me! I need you."

Amy was already blushing after having kissed him. She'd wanted to do that for so very long. She didn't know where or when or why it had happened, but somewhere along the line, Amy had begun to develop feelings for Donovan that were not of the step-dad nature. She stood and backed away, then after some more farewells, turned and hurried away down the trail.



Ella stood over the unconscious man with her gun pointed at his chest. From the look of the caked, drying blood on his shirt, it seemed pretty obvious that someone had already put a bullet through him recently. She looked about the hillside for signs of others but saw none. Had he been alone all along? Or had he been abandoned?

She should probably just leave him to die in peace. His state of unconsciousness would deepen, and then his heart would simply stop. A peaceful death, she thought. But the former nurse couldn't bring herself not to help him. He was probably going to die soon. But, he wasn't dead yet.

Ella never went far away from the cabin without her full hiking pack. She did this just in case she was unable to return to her cabin or in case she herself was injured or lost. She strung her own tarp between some trees for cover, then laid the man's lean-to cover beneath it to keep him away from the forest floor. Then, she went to work. Ella came to realize from the bandages on the man's back that someone had been with him at some point. That made Ella nervous, and she spent half of her time watching the forest, expecting to be attacked.

An hour later, she had his wounds cleaned, stitched, and bandaged. He'd slept through the entire operation, only showing a bit of consciousness when she put a water bottle to his mouth. Ella rebuilt the fire pit a bit closer and got a healthy flame rising from it.

Then, she returned to the woods, wrapped her camouflage poncho about her head and body, and waited to see if anyone returned.



By nightfall, though, it seemed as though no one was coming. Stiff, cold, and hungry, Ella returned to the make shift triage. It was pretty obvious to her that the man had been abandoned. She empathized with him over that. Ella had always felt that her husband's unnecessary and poorly timed death had been akin to abandonment.

She drifted in and out of sleep through the night. The man showed no signs of regaining consciousness even after dawn had arrived. But then, he also hadn't died. So, there's that, she told herself in comfort. She spent the day gathering more wood, checking the man's vitals -- which seemed a bit stronger -- and searching for food. Down here, a full two miles from the cabin, there was more wildlife. She managed to snare a rabbit just before dusk and had it cooking over the flames shortly afterward.

Ella told herself that if the man didn't wake by noon the next day, she was going to have to just give up on him. Then, when she jolted out of her fitful sleep just after sunrise, she looked to him to find his eyes open and staring right at her.

"I'm Ella," she introduced herself as she moved a bit closer to him. "I didn't think you were going to make it. How do you feel?"
 
Donovan felt like his whole body had been beaten, head to toe his whole body hurt. His toes hurt, his nose hurt, hell even the hair on the top of his head hurt. As he tried to open his eyes he stared into blackness, there was nothing around him and he was swimming in a pool of black. No idea which was up or down, and no sense of time. He tried looking at his hands but it was too hard to move, and damn it if it didn't hurt to just 'try' to move anything. He felt a rustle to his world and the blackness shook. Then he felt as if he'd been sucked through a whirlpool. Light, a dim red and yellow flicker danced across his closed eyes. Donovan opened them and he looked around. It still hurt WAY too much to move. He thought for sure his ribs were broken, and as he breathed in heavily he tested that theory. Yup.. at least two were broken.

Donovan's eyes started to focus around him, blurry and unfocused he saw double. as if each item he looked at had a shadow or an aura around it. He finally focused on the dancing light and noticed what looked like a skinned rabbit over a fire. It smelled... amazing, that's when his eyes went up and saw a woman half asleep across from him. She was pretty, a bit younger than him, not as old as Victoria. Maybe this woman was in her late 20's. He watched her for a while, her sleep peaceful. Reaching up he felt the bandage over his shoulder; stitches? This woman was medically trained..

Trying to relax, knowing he was safe, Donovan didn't move. If this woman was here, she'd obviously been sent by Amy.

Donovan was going to cough, or clear his throat but the young woman woke up, blinked her eyes and noticed he was watching her.


"I'm Ella, I didn't think you were going to make it. How do you feel?"


Croaking out the words, he tried to speak with a dry mouth. "Donovan" He coughed, and spoke again, "I feel like someone rolled a bolder over me. I owe you quite a bit of thanks for stitching me up."

Moving his head from side to side he scanned the woods and desperately wanted to get up. Where was she? Where was Amy? His heart sank.. he'd sent her off, but if this woman was here Amy must have found help... "Where's Amy she sent you right?"
 
"Donovan," the man barely managed before coughing dryly.

Ella rolled forward out of her sleeping position and lifted a bottle of water to his mouth. "Easy. Just a little at first."

When he'd had his fill, he spoke again, "I feel like someone rolled a bolder over me. I owe you quite a bit of thanks for stitching me up."

"Well, you owe me for more than that, actually," Ella said with a chuckle. She gently pulled her blanket down from over his body to reveal the long strips of torn cloth wrapped about his rib cage. "You had one, maybe two cracked ribs. Hard to tell from the bruising and swelling, but it'll get better."

She touched a finger tip gently to the cloth just below his sternum. It wasn't your standard bleached white bandage wrap but had hints of colorful flower shapes in the design. She told him with a smile, "You owe me for probably saving your life ... but mostly you owe me 'cause this was 1,000 thread count from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. You know how much sheets like that cost before the world ended? I just found those a couple of days ago. Didn't even get them out of the wrapping, let alone onto my bed."

Ella raised the water to his lips again, telling him he needed to rehydrate. But she could tell his mind was elsewhere. He was looking about for something or someone, not simply looking about.

"Where's Amy, she sent you right?"

Ella didn't immediately answer. She knew -- or thought she knew -- what had happened to this Amy. If Ella had had this seriously injured and likely to die man with her in the mountains, she might have laid him back into the crook of a downed tree's root base and walked away, too.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I don't know who Amy is."

She gave him water a third time and asked if he thought he could eat something. Ella looked to the rabbit over the fire, then held up a tube of Ritz crackers. She joked that they were still relatively fresh. She served him as he wished while he responded to the news that his companion wasn't here.

And won't be coming back, Ella thought, certain that that was correct.
 
Donovan nodded, despite the situation, Ella had a warm personality, it must be her medical training or it must be the ‘black humor’ that he’d known so many nurses to have while working in the medical field. He couldn’t help himself but smile.

When she answered regarding Amy, his heart sank further than it had ever been in his 36 years that could be called his life. The last thing he remembered before he’d passed out was her smell. The phermone smell of Amy, the natural smell a young woman has in her youth. Then he remembered the kiss. He was more shocked than he allowed himself to feel, more shocked than he’d ever allow himself to say out loud, and the words she left him with made him feel very confused.

“I have to find her, I have to, she’d do the same thing for me.” Closing his eyes he tried to get up, tried to put his hands back and guide himself up the tree but it was no use. Even the small movement of his rigth shoulder made his body scream in pain. He wasn’t going anywhere. For the first time in his life, Donovan felt helpless. He’d been a cop for years, he’d always had a plan, a way to get through tough situations. Even in this shit life they were living, he kind of had an idea of what they’d need to do to get through it. Find somewhere safe, find survivors and contribute. But this.. being shot, and wounded, the loss of blood did him in. He wanted to bury his face in his chest and cry. But not in front of this woman who he did not know.

Fighting back the tears he nodded at her offer for food and gingerly took the Ritz crackers she offered. Biting into one, the familiar tastes rushed back, and memories came with them. For a moment he thought he’d let the wave of emotions over take him and weep. But he fought them back.

“Fresh or not I appreciate the snack. Ella, thanks for patching me up. I’ll pay you back, I can’t offer money, course that’s worthless now, but when I’m able I’ll pay you back ten fold any way I can."

His mind was racing now, trying to figure out what direction he’d take to find Amy. He wanted to reach for the topographic map he’d had in his pack, then realized he gave it to Amy before she’d left. Finishing the last cracker, Donovan took another small sip of the water she’d offered and finally spoke with some confidence behind his voice.

“How long has it been since you found me? I need to know as I need to know how many days lead Amy might have on me. I’ve got to go after her. She was supposed to head toward Winter Park. When we made it over Berthoud Pass that was where we’d planned to go.”
 
“I have to find her, I have to," Donovan told Ella. "She’d do the same thing for me.”

The man's attempt to rise resulted in his own pain and his caretaker's quiet chastising. "You're not going anywhere for a while, Donovan. And if you tear out my stitches, the next time I'll sew your feet together to keep you still."

Ella could see the despair in Donovan's expression. He looked to be on the verge of tears, though she couldn't know if that was from pain or the realization that he'd been abandoned. He thanked Ella for the food and promised to repay her someday soon.

"I like wild mushrooms," she said with a smile. "It's chanterelle season. Once you're up and around, you can pick me some."

“How long has it been since you found me? I need to know as I need to know how many days lead Amy might have on me."

"I found you day before yesterday," Ella told him. "A bit before noon I guess."

He continued on about this Amy person, "I’ve got to go after her. She was supposed to head toward Winter Park. When we made it over Berthoud Pass that was where we’d planned to go.”

Ella knew the recreational park and pass of which Donovan was speaking. She had avoided both after her husband's death; they had found bodies hung or even crucified there and decided never to go back. If Amy had gone that direction ... well, Ella didn't want to think about it.

"I hate to ask this, Donovan," she began with a very hesitant tone, "but ... have you considered ... have you thought that maybe ... maybe Amy isn't coming back?"

She gave him a quick moment to see where she was going with this, then finished, "You were near death. It's possible ... I mean ... maybe she didn't think she could save you ... and ... and she didn't want to watch you die."
 
"I hate to ask this, Donovan, but ... have you considered ... have you thought that maybe ... maybe Amy isn't coming back?"

The words hurt. They probably were not meant to, but they did. In his previous life, before the world turned to shit He'd have given himself the same sort of brutal pep talk sucked up the pain and the realization that the only person he gave a shit about in this whole damn world... left. because he told her to.

He was introspective then, looking at the fire, the burning embers that were cooking the presumed dinner they'd have later, or at least he assumed so since Ella made no motion to leave. When Ella did speak again, she was speaking the words of thoughts he already shared.

"You were near death. It's possible ... I mean ... maybe she didn't think she could save you ... and ... and she didn't want to watch you die."

He looked up at her and spoke the truth, which hurt, but it was the truth.

"I told her to go. We'd been talking nearly for 2 days straight it seemed. When I fell down the mountain, broke my ribs and made a good mess of myself I knew I couldn't go on. So, she took what she could carry and headed out probably no more than a few hours before you found me. If she can, she'll come back for me.. I'd do the same for her."

With a deep sigh Donovan resigned himself to thinking he'd probably never see her again.

Changing the subject, Donovan rotated his right shoulder. it was still painful, but tolerable.

"Where did you learn to stitch me up? With the not so veiled threat of sewing my legs together I'd take a wild guess you were an ER triage nurse, or at least worked in a hospital? I remember this one Nurse in Denver. Kathleen, she'd threatened this drunk to shut up one night after we'd brought him in for a major gash on his head. She'd stitched him up, but he wouldn't shut up.. I remember she'd pulled out a second surgical kit and was about to tear it open when the drunk asked what it was for. She politely said he had another sucking wound in his face and she was going to take care of it for him."

Donovan started to laugh and smiled at the memory.

"Oh she was good... good with the drunks..but even better with the kids we had to bring in."

Donovan stopped, remembering the last night he'd seen Kathleen, her smile was gone.. He shook his head before the memory flooded back, along with everything else.

" Anyway, thanks again for stitching me up... I promise I'll be a model patient. no need to sew my feet together." A smile crossed his face, hoping that his attempt at humor might match her own.
 
"I told her to go."

Donovan's response surprised Ella a bit at first. But as she continued talking, it began to make sense. Ella knew men; good men, bad men. Donovan was beginning to sound more like the former than the latter, and Ella could see him telling his traveling partner to save herself.

"If she can, she'll come back for me," he continued. "I'd do the same for her."

"I'm sure she will," Ella said with a hopeful tone. She didn't believe it, of course. But she wasn't going to tell Donovan what she believed to be the truth: this Amy was long gone and, quite possibly, already very dead. She rocked forward to her knees again, telling Donovan, "You need to drink more water."

He told the story of some woman named Kathleen, then thanked Ella again for patching him up. She laughed a bit at his story, then stood and moved to the far side of the fire.

"So, who's this Amy anyway?" Ella asked as she pulled her knife and cut a large, hind leg from the roasting rabbit. "You didn't use the words wife or girlfriend."

Ella didn't want to start naming relationship possibilities. She assumed it was some woman he'd met over the last six months, likely some woman who'd been parting her thighs to him so he would protect and feed her. Donovan seemed like the protective type. Was he the type to care for a woman he didn't really know to get his cock sucked occasionally? Ella wasn't sure about that yet.

She circled the fire to bring him the leg as he answered.
 
Donovan quietly nodded and reached for the leg Ella offered. He took a small bite and looked over at her.

“it’s been years since I’ve had rabbit, probably five maybe six… It was the last hunting trip my family went on before my father died. I remember all of us camping out on an evening much like this, in the woods probably no more than a few days travel from here. I forgot how much like chicken it actually tastes.”

He wasn’t avoiding her question, but he was also trying to measure just exactly how much he should tell her. Should he expound on what brought Amy and him together? Or omit it as it was really none of her business. She did save his life, and if telling a bit of his history helped set her at ease regarding the man she’d saved, then what was the harm? So long as he eventually found out more about the woman who’d saved him.

She was pretty, despite the fact that she was out here dealing with his sorry ass. He can only imagine that before the whole world went to shit she’d had the opportunity to doll herself up a bit and look amazing. Looking at her hands, Donovan noticed the light band indentation where a wedding ring had once been on her left hand. Had she taken it off, or had she lost her husband to this misery? Taking another bite, Donovan looked over at his dinner companion and spoke calmly.

“No, she’s not a girlfriend, she’s not my wife.” The memory of the sudden kiss flooding back to him for a moment, but remembering where he was, who he was with, Donovan buried it. Pulling his backpack closer he unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a map book. Slipping a photo from within the binding

“That’s the three of us, about a year ago. Christmas time.”

The photo showed a happier time, three people, Donovan, a blonde woman in her mid thirties and standing next to her a younger version of her. The photo showed the three of them clinking glasses of champagne together.

“That was before Victoria got sick, before the whole world we know went to shit. I promised her I’d look out for Amy, I taught her everything I could think of while Denver collapsed and we had to get out. When she died, both of us bonded over the loss of a loved one, she her mom, me the love of my life. So, the relationship is a bit personal. She was the last best thing in this place. I can only hope where ever she went, she’s ok. Of course.. the look on your face doesn’t convince me that you think she stood a chance.”

Smiling confidently, Donovan spoke and meant ever word he said. “ She’s adapted, taken everything that was thrown at her, thrown at all of us over the last six months. Her mom, the love of my life would be very proud of the person she’s had to become, knowing that she’s had to go through.”

Looking at Ella’s left hand he tried to see if she was married, if there was family out there looking for her, hoping she was still alive. When he spied the familiar wear mark of a missing wedding band his heart went out to her. “Married? Divorced? Or… “

He could hear Ella say something, he couldn’t quite catch what she said under her breath, but he thought it sounded something like “Not anymore...” and he felt terrible. He wanted to at least reach for her hand, pat it reassuringly try and express in some simple way that she wasn’t alone. Instead, he left her alone in her own sadness and tried to change the topic.

“So, you never did tell me where you picked up the skills to stitch me back together...”
 
Last edited:
(OOC: In the image of Ella below, imagine her with just the one weapon for now.)

Donovan finished with, “So, you never did tell me where you picked up the skills to stitch me back together...”

"Sewing circle," she said softly. She peeked his way for a moment as a smile spread across her face. "Down at the Ladies Auxiliary."

Then, also slowly as it had appeared, the smile faded away. Her mind was on Donovan's question about her own marital status and her murmured response. Not anymore had been easier to say than widowed, even after Donovan had explained that his relationship had met a similar fate.

Donovan's photo was still out, though it was upside down to Ella. Even so, she could tell by the women's faces that they'd both been very pretty back in the day. How long had it been since Ella had felt pretty? Glancing up to Donovan's weary face, she could tell that given a better situation -- one in which he wasn't still short a couple of pints of blood -- he would be a very handsome man.

When was the last time you cared about being pretty? Ella wondered. When was the last time you saw a handsome man who hadn't tried to rob you, or rape you, or both?

As Donovan put his photo away and zipped up his pack, Ella reminded herself that she still couldn't know that the man wouldn't rob her once he was physically able to do so, wouldn't rape her ... wouldn't both. Ella had the advantage for the moment, of course: she was armed and in good health, and she also knew where to find more food and shelter should she have to flee and hide.

But what about when Donovan was stronger and finally on his feet? Ella had taken chances on bad men before. Oh, not since the Sickness, of course. But before. How many assholes and creeps had she been involved with before she finally met Robert? How many of them had offered her the world, only to treat her like dog shit -- something to stay far away from -- once they had their fun inside her pussy and found another naïve girl to use and abuse.

"Robert died shortly after the Sickness reached Denver," Ella suddenly and surprisingly found herself saying. Her gaze was on the fire now, the flames dancing in her eyes and seeming to power her will and desperation to speak of him to someone. "He was a ... had been a paramedic. I was on my second year at Mercy General. Nurse."

She recalled the night they met. Really met, as he and his EMT partner had been bringing in the injured and ill for months by then. She'd been in a funk; her most recent live-in boyfriend had gotten hold of her debit card and PIN and cleaned out her checking before disappearing with an underage flirt from her building; and she'd been denied a transfer to the pediatrics department, which had long been her dream job despite having been trained as a emergency room and surgery nurse.

Ella had asked Robert if he could help her move a too-heavy patient into his wheel chair, then instead took him to a vacant room where she surprised him by dropping the pants half of her scrubs and bending over a stretcher. They'd been together ever since. They'd fucked a few more times, then actually made love a few more. She moved into his place, which was new to her for a change.

They had spoken of the concept of marriage, but decided it wasn't for them. Then Ella came up pregnant. A week later, they were surrounded by friends and family as they exchanged vows. They'd been together two years when the Sickness arrived. Megan had been 13 months old when she died.

"We were going to stay and help, you know, when the Sickness reached Denver," she continued, her eyes threatening tears. She fought them back, though. "We're both medical professionals, after all. But ... Jesus ... it was so bad. Wide spread. It was everywhere. New York City was already gone. They'd isolated Manhattan by then. D.C., Chicago ... St. Louis. It was even in the West ... Seattle, L.A. ... Vegas. They said it was just as bad or getting just as bad overseas, too. London. Paris. Tokyo. Even Cape Town."

Ella stood to cut off another hind quarter of the rabbit, offering it to Donovan. She would begin eating herself, too. "We knew we couldn't save everyone, so ... we got the hell'out'a Dodge ... or Denver, at least. Came up here to hide 'til it blew over."

She glanced to Donovan again, trying to alleviate the memories with a humorous smile as she continued, "It didn't, of course. We were up here a couple of months before..."

Ella misspoke: it had only been a couple of weeks before it happened. She made no attempt to correct what she'd been about to say as she stood to stoke the fire and add some dry branches as she continued.

"Robert went down the hill to find more food for--" Ella had been about to say for Megan, my toddler, but stopped. She wasn't ready to talk about her daughter yet. Instead she continued, "We needed food. I didn't want him to go. I thought we were fine."

Her tone was beginning to show her anger. She hadn't wanted Robert to go that night. They'd been hearing distant gunfire -- exchanged gunfire -- and while they didn't talk about it openly, they knew that there were people down hill killing each other for one reason or another.

"I found him four days later, 'bout a mile from where we were hiding," she said. There were no threatening tears this time; Ella hadn't yet forgiven her husband for leaving her and his child that night. She'd thought it was less about food and more about wanting to know what was going on out there in the world. He'd been shot. Robbed. He was laying--"

Ella's words failed her. She stopped there, not explaining that she found Robert naked and robbed of everything, even his boxers; not explaining that he'd been beaten and possibly sexually violated; not explaining that without a way to dig a grave, she'd had to leave him for the vultures and dogs and ants; and not explaining that somehow he'd been infected or gotten fluids on him that carried the Sickness, and that then returning to Megan -- hidden in the woods and stilled with a generous serving of cough syrup -- Ella had passed the Sickness on to her as well.

For reasons she couldn't explain, Ella hadn't gotten sick herself. Before their radio had quit working, she heard that the CDC had identified a natural immunity within a small segment of the population. Maybe the Sickness couldn't kill her; maybe she'd just been lucky and Megan hadn't. Didn't really matter. Some days Ella wished that she, too, would have died coughing and screaming out in pain as her little, innocent daughter had that cold, wet, miserable winter evening.

"Any way," she said, pushing aside the memories. She smiled down to Donovan as she stood to begin gathering her empty water bottles. "Life's a fucking bitch, and in the end, we're all worm food, so ... fuck it!"

Ella laughed as she explained that there was a spring downhill a hundred yards or so. She checked to ensure she had a round chambered in the M4, then told Donovan, "If you stand up and walk about and fuck up my needlework, I'll have to shoot you ... and then stitch you up a second time. I won't be gone long."

As she turned to leave, she humorous added, "If you hear shooting, it's must me hunting. If you hear shooting and I don't come back, well..."



An hour later or so, Ella was back with four freshly filled bottles and another rabbit. She'd hated wasting a bullet on the critter, but they both needed to eat more. They chatted some more during the day; Ella talked about being a nurse, about being the pitcher of the University of Denver's two times over national championship softball team before that, of being a violent little thing before that, beating up boys when they called her Strawberry or Ginger or other such names because of her fiery red hair.

When she saw that Donovan needed rest, Ella let him slip away for a couple of hours as the second rabbit roasted. She tried to ignore the rifle reports from over the ridge, not wanting her new companion to think that she thought it might have anything to do with his former companion.

Donovan slept better that night, even if Ella didn't. She didn't like being out here like this; vulnerable and out of her comfort zone. Come midnight, Ella snuck off to sleep in the crook of a downed tree's roots where she could watch Robert in the flickering light of the fire. She wanted to be able to better guard him from the darkness. More than that, though, she didn't want the fire -- which she'd built bigger than normal to keep Donovan warm -- to be her own undoing when someone saw it and snuck in to kill them both.

But the night went without incident, and come dawn, Ella rose again and returned to Donovan with a smile on her face, telling him that she'd only been out looking around. She checked his wounds; she changed the bandage on the front.

"I think we should be going," Ella told him when she was done. "You're getting your color back, and ... well, it's just not safe to stay here."

She wasn't forgetting that Donovan was hoping that Amy would come walking up the trail any minute. But, the odds of them being found here by people with ill intentions was a lot higher.
 
Donovan

The night before had been the most eventful and... uneventful he'd had in ages.
he hadn't been shot at, he hadn't been cold to the bone, it was the first night in nearly 6 months that he'd spent it alone, without Amy's presence, and... it was the first night he was actually unarmed. Not a feeling of comfort for a person who'd basically carried a gun 24/7 for most of his adult life. Trusting someone to keep an eye on you while you slept was one thing in a hospital, but out here, in the woods he had to trust that Ella wasn't going to kill him after she'd patched him up.

There was also the fact that somewhere in the recess of his mind, Donovan knew her husband. the Robert he'd known was a responsible guy. Paramedics were often called to wrecks, shootings, domestic violence calls and basically they dealt with some of the craziest individuals who didn't belong in a jail cell at least not until they were physically checked out. Donovan had thought this over since he'd heard Ella creep off into the darkness and find a quiet spot away from the fire. He'd tried to even place her, had he run into her at Mercy? maybe at Denver Health? Yea, he had, on one of the last trips to Mercy, before shit really came apart, he'd accompanied an attempted suicide to Mercy, the bastard had taken it upon himself to kill his wife and two kids but when it came to pulling the trigger on himself the bastard missed and just took out his left eye. In all that hell, he'd seen Robert calm as always, and Ella, well she probably hadn't noticed him. but they exchanged just a few words before she went off to another patient. When they were somewhere else safe he'd have to tell her, but that'd have to wait.

In the morning when he woke, then came the decision, would he stay and wait another day? or would he leave a marker for her. Maybe point her in the direction they were headed.

"You're right, we can't stay here. if Amy does come back, can I a sign for her, at least that way she'll know which way I went. And don't worry, it's a sign that only she'd understand."
 
Last edited:
...can I leave a sign for her...?

"Of course," Ella answered without hesitating ... or really thinking about the ramifications. A note left for Amy would be of no use; Ella was sure the girl was gone, long gone, even dead by now being out her on her own. But if someone else was to find the note...? She told Donovan with a concerned tone, "Something she will notice but others won't maybe?"

Ella handed him a small spiral notebook and pen she carried in her pack. She explained the route they'd be taking; up the hill through the woods to the second deer trail, west on the trail half a mile, then up hill again at a little waterfall, following the creek to a larger waterfall.

"It'll get her close to the cabin," Ella told him. "Close enough that I can walk down and look for her each day. We'll leave what food we have when we get there, then I'll bring more down. Just tell her to wait there."

Ella found a strong branch for Donovan to use as a walking stick, checked his bandages one last time, and they were off. Ella led and took her own sweet time. She never hurried out here in the woods anyway. You never knew who was going to leap out or simply shoot you from hiding. Today, she went even slower. Donovan wasn't exactly in marathon-running shape.

It took them the entire day to reach the larger waterfall, despite it being less than two miles. They'd rested often, rehydrating and checking Donovan's bandages.

"We'll stay the night here," Ella told Donovan as the world around them darkened. She showed him to a narrow opening in a 20 foot cliff downstream from the fall, sort of a convertible cave. "No need to push this."

Ella strung up the tarp lean-to again and built a small fire. The heat reflected off the rock walls, keeping them warm with less light for others to spot. Donovan was exhausted and asleep almost before Ella got her bed made. She sat there for a long while, just staring at him. Thoughts bounced around in her head; pre-apocalypse type thoughts about men and women, love and sex, home and family.

And then she, too, passed out before the dancing flames.



Ella awoke in the morning to find Donovan exactly as he had been the night before. She actually worried for a moment that he'd died. Then, finally, his chest rose and fell with a deep breath. She filled the water bottles in the creek and checked a fish trap she'd dropped into the water on her way downhill from the cabin. It was empty, which didn't surprise her.

When Donovan awoke, they ate on the cold remains of the two rabbits before Ella pointed up a steep trail and said, "Cabin's up there. I want to check it out first. It's gonna be a couple of hours, so ... you might as well just get some more sleep."

She took her time climbing the trail toward the cabin. Step, step, pause and look; repeat. In all her time here, no one had happened upon the little mountain retreat. But Ella had to remind herself sometimes that she didn't build this. At any point in time, the original owner -- if he was still alive -- might show up, find Ella, and shoot her for being an intruder; or, just as she had, some wanderer might just happen upon it and think as she had, nice place to hole up.

Once on the nearly flat plateau upon it was built, Ella circled the cabin to get a look at it from all sides. She went to the rotting log under which she'd hit her second rifle, an M16. Even though she didn't need to do it, she checked each for the right ammunition before she stood up again to approach the cabin. Before his death, Robert had explained to Ella the slight difference between .223 Remington rounds and 5.56 NATO rounds. The M16, he'd explained, would shoot both but the M4 wouldn't, at least, not safely. She was always careful not to mix rounds, and -- because she sometimes confused them -- Ella had actually carved the usable round IDs into the butt of each rifle.

She slung the backup weapon over her shoulder, then approached the cabin. She peeked through a small access door used to stock the cabin up with firewood from the back wall. There was no one there. Inside, she found it as she hoped; undisturbed.

Ella spent a few minutes thinking about bringing Donovan here. He would be her first house guest. And because of the world they now lived in, she found herself wondering whether or not she should hide some things from him. What if he did turn out to be a creep once he was well enough to handle himself? Did she want to hide some of her food or first aid materials or ammunition?

In the end, Ella ended up just tidying the place a bit. She tossed out some of the crap she should have disgorged from the little cabin long ago. She quickly built a fire in the wood stove. She started to change the sheets on the bed for Donovan, then remembered that the sheets she'd found were now stripped and wrapped around the man's chest, getting fouled with blood in one spot.

Ella began to descend the hill again, then remembered just how steep it was. She returned to the cabin for a pair of long ropes Robert had found on one of his treks. She tied each of them to the trunk of a tree just above the two steepest portions of the trail. Leading them down the hill behind her, Ella was thinking that maybe Donovan could use them to pull himself up the incline.

When she got back to the waterfall and curled around the rocks to retrieve Donovan, Ella suddenly took a defensive stance and leveled the rifle at the unexpected site before her.

"Who the hell are you?" Amy asked the unfamiliar woman before looking back to Donovan, whose face was still filled with surprise. "Who the hell is she?"
 
Donovan had taken the time to write two messages, one left in an obvious spot next to the fire pit that they'd used the night before, some place rather obvious for someone who might be looking for them, not Amy exactly; but marauders looking for someone to rob.

Donovan and Amy had gone over this routine a few times, They'd practiced it before they'd left Denver as a way to get out safely without letting anyone else know where they were headed. Donovan made and obvious note, one that would send a thief in the exact opposite direction. This had come in good use as Amy had once been followed to their meeting spot, she'd eventually lost her her unwelcome tag along and eventually made it back, finding the 'real' message. This time the message for Amy would be left in a collection of debris under a broken tree limb that would be shaped like the letter V.

Leaving the last spot he'd seen Amy, was difficult namely because it was the last certain place that he'd seen her, and that she knew where he was. Two.. in his heart he was afraid he'd never see the young woman again. Their kiss, while brief was the first intimate encounter he'd had in well over a year, maybe more. He'd honestly lost count of the last time he'd had sex, it had certainly been a long time since he'd had an opportunity to really think about it, and he wasn't sure why such a simple kiss was causing such a battle with in him. Maybe it was Amy's confession that she loved him. How was he supposed to react to that? He'd never really thought of her sexually but he had to admit Amy was beautiful. What about Ella? He'd always had an attraction to redheads, and while he'd never dated one, the stories about their fiery personality matched only by the fire between their legs. It was most certainly something of an urban legend.. If you were to believe such things, which honestly he didn't. It must be the close proximity to women, his dependency upon Ella and, his weakened state that made all of this come up. Thoughts like this were never very good for him, women were amazing, but in times like this could he really afford the distraction?

Which brought up another point, he certainly didn't like being dependent upon Ella. Why did she save him? If she was so skittish about people then why did she take the time to save him? Especially at personal risk to herself. Was he to be some sort of sacrifice? Get him healthy and then test her theories of a cure on him? These random thoughts all came to mind as he followed Ella through the mountains to where they spent the night. The cave she'd led them to was secluded, and the waterfall was picturesque. In another time he could see two young lovers fucking in the waterfall and retreating to the cave he was in for further carnal pleasures. The more he thought about it though everything was really on her terms. He was unarmed for the first time in what fell like forever, and simply not in physical shape to dictate anything which put him more ill at ease. If the time came to over power her, if he felt like his life was at risk, he'd have to be careful about it. Thinking like this made him frustrated, made him ill at ease. It wasn't a comfortable way of living. While he'd been a Police Officer, he'd relied on his training, his 14 years experience on the job to get him through most tough situations and generally not able to trust anyone who didn't wear a badge. Victoria had changed most of that, Amy had cemented in him that he could trust someone else with his life. And, maybe in a sense honoring them is why he has been quicker to trust Ella. By the end of the night he'd decided that Ella had spent two plus days nursing him back to health at great personal risk to herself. She'd earned his trust by her actions. She'd never stolen from him, she'd never once given him the impression that she might rob him and leave him there to die. His mind was settled, which made sleep come far easier than he'd expected.

Ella suggested that she scout first, and come back to him. Before she left, Donovan reached out and took her hand in his own. The movement was slow and sincere, not quick as to worry Ella that he had devious intentions. Her hand in his he squeezed it gently and made eye contact with her. In a concerned voice, he said "Don't worry I'm not going anywhere, and be careful. When she left up and out of the cave he hoped she'd be careful.

While her advice was sound he couldn't sit idle. So standing he stretched, careful of his ribs, trying not to put too much pressure on them. A few times he moved too quickly and the nagging pain returned. His right shoulder however was getting better. His range of motion was slowly returning. Donovan moved about, trying to get the feeling back in his legs after being so sluggish over the last few days. This moving around though tired him out faster than he'd expected. Leaning back against the cave wall he rested his head, closed his eyes and rested.

Donovan dreamed, he could see in front of him Ella, dressed in a simple yet form hugging summer dress, A smile across her face and a daisy behind her ear. Amy then appeared, in the workout shorts and sports bra he'd seen her in a few times before the whole world turned upside down. She'd slipped out of her bedroom one morning as he was leaving Victoria's bedroom headed in to work. He'd watched her leave the house and knew Amy was going to be as beautiful as her mother was. There was that, but Donovan was convinced Amy would be capable of having the man of her desires twisted around her fingers. Donovan watched in his dreams as both women beckoned him, the desire of many men to be wanted by such lovely capable women.

His slumber came to an abrupt halt when he heard a snap, a large branch or fallen tree limb hand been stepped on. Donovan sat up right, wincing at the pain in his ribs, a seething hiss escaped his lips as his right hand hand went to his ribs. As if out of a dream he saw Amy standing there just outside the cave. Before he could say anything, Ella came into view just off to his right.

In dumbfounded shock Donovan said nothing for at least 30 seconds, 30 seconds longer than he should have taken.

"AMY!. Oh my god!" He got up to greet her but his wounds reminded him with an urgent slap of pain saying "Hey smartypants... we are still here..pay attention..."

Both women were alarmed at the other, Amy obviously questioning who Ella was, and Ella.. taking up a defensive position, pointing a rifle in their direction. Looking at Amy he waved at Ella and spoke in a reassuring tone.

"Amy... This is Ella, she saved my life. She found me where I told you to leave me, patched me up. You can trust her, she's a friend."

Turning to Ella, Donovan did his best to make eye contact. In the same tone of voice he'd used with Amy, he said "And..Ella, this is the young woman I was telling you about, from the photo.. This is Amy."

Reaching out, Donovan took Amy's hand in his first then pulling her into his arms hugging her. Holding her tightly, Donovan didn't want to let go he was so glad to see her alive. He had so many questions, where did she go? Was she alright? Did anyone follow her? Instead, he said the most heart felt thing he could think of. "Glad you found my message...Are you alright?"
 
Amy raised an eyebrow at Donovan, waiting for an answer as to who the fuck was this woman with him. She glanced back at Ella, then at the rifle pointed at her from just below the bearer's arm pit. Honestly, Amy was more concerned about the woman hanging with her step-dad than the gun she was toting.

"AMY!. Oh my god!" Donovan exclaimed, trying to stand.

If Amy hadn't been so shocked by the third wheel -- and a pretty one at that -- she might have noticed and shown concern for Donovan's obvious pain.

He went on, "Amy... This is Ella, she saved my life. She found me where I told you to leave me, patched me up. You can trust her, she's a friend."

Amy turned her scrutinizing attention to Ella as he went on, "And ... Ella, this is the young woman I was telling you about, from the photo.. This is Amy."

Amy glared back at Donovan again, thinking to herself, the young woman...? The young woman!! That was like something a guy told his girlfriend when said girlfriend caught him out on the town with a second woman he was wanting to fuck! Or what a guy told his friends when he was introducing a potential girlfriend who was, at that point, only a friend who was a girl ... a girl with whom he had an as-of-yet-undefined relationship.

Amy didn't want to be either of those girls, the other lover or the unknown quantity. She wanted to be Donovan's lover. Oh sure, he had no reason to know that that was what was in Amy's mind. That kiss from the day before -- or had it been the day before the day before, she couldn't recall -- had been the first bit of intimacy between them ever. Donovan had been her mother's lover, practically Amy's step-dad. And, truthfully, she'd never had fantasies about parting her thighs for him.

Not until after the apocalypse. After he'd stayed with her, after he'd taken care of her, fended for her, protected her ... after all that, Amy's yearning for Donovan had begun to manifest. And when she'd thought she was going to lose him to that bullet wound -- an injury for which she was responsible she still believed -- that was when Amy knew that they had to become lovers. She owed him. And, to be honest, she simply wanted him.

But, she wanted him all to herself! As Donovan's tight hug continued, Amy glared up at the strange woman wondering Has he already been inside her? Did she rape him while he was vulnerable? Has she already laid claim to him by parting her thighs ... or opening her mouth ... or both?

"Glad you found my message" Donovan told Amy as Ella slowly lowered the rifle to point toward the ground between them. "Are you alright?"

Amy pulled away just a bit, ending the hug but remaining in one of Donovan's curled arms. She noticed the man's wincing and was suddenly feeling very guilty. She spoke, very noticeably in the Ella's direction, "I went for help. I was trying to find help. I didn't leave him. I was coming back."

As Donovan was reacting in his own way, Ella was slinging the rifle over her shoulder and simply studying the younger woman. Ella believed Amy, of course; after all, she was here now. But there was something about the young woman -- as Donovan had referred to Amy -- that bothered the older one.

"I got lost," Amy said, now looking to Donovan again. She told a story about finding a house, being chased by a dog, wading across and falling into a creek, and ending up downstream several hundred yards before she got out of the quick moving current. "I managed to start a fire with those waterproof matches you gave me. But ... I couldn't find my path."

Glancing Ella's way for an instant before doing it, Amy leaned in and kissed Donovan on the lips, telling him, "I missed you. I was so worried."

It wasn't overly sexual or intimate kiss; no more than what most lip kissing parents and children did. The difference, of course, was that Donovan wasn't Amy's father. And even when her father had been in her life, the two of them had never been the lip kissing type. But Amy gave Donovan a meaningful look and smile before hugging him once again.

"So, what's your story?" Amy said after again pulling away from the man and looking to Ella.

Ella shrugged, saying, "No story. Just found Donovan and helped him."

She didn't want to admit it, but Ella was jealous. No, envious was the right word. She was feeling envy for what Amy had with Donovan, right? Jealousy would be Ella fearing Amy was going to take Donovan from her. But, Donovan wasn't Ella's. Or ... was he? Amy had abandoned him, and Ella had saved him. Or, so Ella would have liked to think.

"We should move," she told Donovan, glancing to the trail to her right.

"Go where?" Amy asked suspiciously. She looked right to Donovan. "Where is she taking you?"
 
"I missed you. I was so worried." Amy said... Was that what she said ? He couldn't remember as it all got lost in the subtle kiss she'd given him.

"HUH?" Donovan said to himself his inner dialog taking over as the conversation between the two women took on a bit of passive aggressive behavior queues. Amy's tone of voice, Ella being short and curt in her responses..

"Oh shit" he said to himself, "were tehy really going to fight over him? God he hoped not... the last thing they should be doing is wasting precious energy and time with this kind of behavior. He could see easily how Amy had gotten jealous of Ella being there. In all his time on the job he remembered a few domestic violence cases where mother and daughter fought over the same guy. Normally it drove the guy out, or someone was made to choose. Right now in his own mind, there was no choice to be had. Donovan didn't know Ella at all really, she'd saved him sure, but how much did he 'really' know about the woman. Not much.

Amy however he'd known for the better part of two years, he knew the subtle quirks that was her personality and he had to try and remember to respect her, but also try and not lead her on.

BUT the kiss..... why did she have to kiss him? Donovan could already feel the internal struggle within him begin. If she kissed him again, how would he react, especially if they were alone. Shaking his head and trying to catch their conversation, he caught Amy's last question..

"Where is she taking you?" Cutting this competition off at the knees, Donovan relied quickly.

" 'We' are headed to safety, so 'we' should get moving." Taking Ella's words as a two fold comment, Donovan leaned on Amy to help him, No matter if Ella's comment was meant for only Donovan, Amy was going with him no matter what. And two, there was an urgency behind it, from the grade of the hill Donovan was going to need as much time as possible to get up there considering his injuries.

As they started up the hill he noticed the rope that Ella had strung up to help him get to the top, It was a wonderful idea, one that even with Amy's help he'd need to use. When they reached the rope, he grasped it with his right hand and pulled as he relied on Amy to support him on his left considering his broken ribs and all. With their close proximity, he could smell her, the natural pheromones that Amy gave off. her youth and attractive appearance despite all that was going on had an effect on him. He imagined inappropriate things and wiped them out by trying to instill some confidence in the young woman where she'd probably been blaming herself. for his injuries.

Nudging her with his hip just slightly he commented loud enough for Amy to hear him. "Quit blaming yourself. I know you didn't desert me, I told you to go. Remember? And.. as Ella will attest, I knew you'd be back." He tried to put the same emphasis on his words as he'd always done. trying to boost her confidence when she needed it. Finishing his comment he made sure to tell her one final thing, "Besides, 'we' you and I wouldn't be here if you hadn't shot that second guy, He had the bead on both of us after they tried to take you. It was a hard thing you did, but in this world, right now, you did the right thing. I'm still here because of that decision."

Donovan tried to keep it quiet beyond his comments to her, Their movements could attract unwanted attention, and talking too loudly would do that. After what seemed like half the day, a good five hours slogging up the hill they'd finally reached the top. Donovan slowed and motioned to Ella, "I've got to stop soon, my ribs are killing me. How much farther?"
 
Amy stuck close to Donovan all the way up the hill. Except for where the steep trail sometimes narrowed between rock outcrops and/or trees to both sides, she stayed at the man's left the entire time. Honestly, she offered him more assistance than was necessary.

Feelings about Donovan were tearing through her as they never had before. When he had been her mother's boyfriend, Amy had never entertained sexual thoughts about him. Okay, maybe not never. She'd sometimes imagined the two of them having a loud, energetic fuck somewhere about the home or property back in Denver. But those fantasies had always been more about rebellion against or simply pissing off her mother, who always made an appearance in the fantasies, discovering that her young, beautiful, sexy daughter had stolen her man.

During these months following the Sickness, Amy assessment of Donovan's place in her life had been shifting slowly from mom's boyfriend closer to actual step-father. It was only after she'd drawn so much attention from the men at Marcus's community and after she'd never nearly been raped yet was saved by Donovan that Amy began to think of him more ... intimately. And over the last two days -- since that first kiss -- Amy had been in mortal fear that she would lose the man before they ever got to...

Got to what? she'd thought a hundred -- a thousand times -- over the last two days or so. Have sex...? Become lovers...?

Amy's mind had been a storm of thoughts about what she now wanted in a relationship with Donovan. She wanted to be closer to him. But how close? That close...? Lovers? She'd pretty much come to the conclusion that that was where she wanted the relationship to proceed.

And now, Amy had competition.

As they took a break on the hill, Donovan reassured Amy that she'd done the right thing, going out to look for help. When he mentioned her killing a man, Amy caught Ella's quick glance her direction. Donovan had actually said shot, not killed, but that didn't keep Amy from thinking to herself, Yeah, I killed for Donovan. You may have patched him up, but I KILLED for him.

They continued on, finally reaching a spot where the hill seemed to nearly plateau.

Donovan said, "I've got to stop soon, my ribs are killing me. How much farther?"

"He needs rest," Amy added. Her tone had a bit of accusation in it, as if she thought Ella was pushing them too hard. She wrapped her arm around Donovan's waist and urged his own over her shoulder as she helped him toward a downed log, telling him with a soft voice, "C'mon, sit over her. I'll get the water out again."

"Right there," Ella said, pointing through the trees. The cabin was up the now-slight incline, barely visible through the foliage of the conifers. "Another hundred yards or so."

In silence, Ella watched the younger woman tend to Donovan for a moment. How had her life taken two such dramatic shifts in as many days. She'd gone from being alone to being with a presumably good and undeniably good looking man to now being with that man and his obviously protective and snotty step-daughter.

Step-daughter...? Or more? Ella found herself wondering again as she watched the young woman tending to Donovan. Her hands gently checked the man's wounds and dabbed his sweaty face and neck with a rag soaked from the water bottle. It was less innocent than Ella would have expected. And, to be honest, the expression on Donovan's face seemed to indicate that even he was a bit surprised by it.

"We can rest here a while," Ella said. "There's no--"

"Why don't you go ahead," Amy cut in quickly. The younger woman didn't look Ella's way right away. But after getting no verbal response, she looked to Ella and said firmly, "I can get him there from here now. Really. We don't need your help."

Ella hadn't been much help up this last leg as of yet anyway; she'd only offered a hand those few times when the trail had narrowed and -- while Amy helped from behind -- she helped from in front. She looked to Donovan for his approval.

"I got him," Amy said sharply before Donovan could offer his opinion. "We'll be right behind you."

Ella hesitated, then turned as she said, "I'll stoke the fire and put on some more food and water. It's just straight up the--"

"We see it," Amy cut in. After Ella turned and headed away, Amy returned to wiping Donovan's face with loving care, whispering softly, "We don't need her."
 
Frustration was starting to set in as Donovan heard their exchange. He wasn't at full strength, he'd been nursed back to health over the last two days and now Amy was treating Ella like the enemy. It made no sense.


"We don't need her."


He could sense a touch of jealousy in her voice, maybe it was her wounded pride. Whatever it was, he had to put a stop to it, at least subtly.

In as kind a voice as he could muster, Donovan took Amy's hands in his. He remembered the last time he'd talked to her in a situation like this and tried to use a more 'comforting' voice. It had been when her mother died. He'd found her in their home, the one she'd shared with her mom. She was a bit of a mess, as they both were after she'd died. They discussed at the time staying in Denver, trying to survive, or getting out and way from the chaos. The military and national guard were probably still there trying to bring order to an already fallen city. Too many officers on the police department had fallen ill or were dying. So, in a state of emergency the Governor had called for people to shelter in their homes. Hallways and apartment buildings smelled like death, 20 story morgues that left bodies to decay. That's when he'd gotten Amy to go with him, get out of the city, away from the death and chaos. Remembering those days brought back the last moments he'd seen Victoria alive, she was in and out of consciousness, and when she did pass, they couldn't say goodbye beyond her hospital room. She was carted off by two masked individuals who couldn't or wouldn't make eye contact with either of them.

He knew why, her body was to be cremated immediately. What made it worse, they couldn't have a funeral.

Looking into Amy's eyes, he calmly spoke.

"Amy, we need her help more right now than anything else. We need shelter, safety and I need to recuperate before we even think about striking out on our own again. If we 'had to' we could make it maybe. But that's a big maybe. I'd be slowing us down so badly anyone who might want to rob, steal or kill us, or something far worse would have an easy target. Neither of us are armed, we've got a few knives and supplies, but we don't stand a chance as we are."

Nodding at Ella, Donovan spoke, "Ella over there is a nurse... a good one, and at great risk to herself she put me back together asking for nothing in return... I emphasize that.. nothing in return.. The three of us together might stand a chance of survival. Once I'm back to full strength we can figure out where we want to go. But staying here, it'll give us time to watch the area, find out the safest way out, and somewhere we can maybe make a new life. So can we bury whatever growing animosity you might have to her? for my sake. Please.."

Donovan hoped his words would make sense.. break the jealous anxiety that Amy might have on Ella.

Calling to Ella, Donovan just said "wait... we're coming.." Giving Amy one last look before he got up, Donovan pleaded with his eyes..
 
Last edited:
"Amy, we need her help more right now than anything else."

Amy listened to all Donovan said. And while she didn't want to believe it, she knew it was true. Their lives had been getting harder and harder with each passing day. Hell, Donovan had very nearly died; she'd very nearly been raped and ... well, raped again and again or likely killed as well. They'd been on the verge of starvation much of the time. Ella had given Amy and Donovan more food in the past hours than Amy had had since leaving Marcus's community.

"So can we bury whatever growing animosity you might have to her? for my sake. Please.."

Amy considered Donovan's question, then simply nodded in silence.

Calling to Ella, Donovan just said "Wait... we're coming."

Amy helped Donovan to his feet. They headed up the trail, the incline the least steep they'd had to deal with yet. Their slow speed allowed Amy a long look at the place. She had to admit, though it was humble, it was all the three of them needed.

Ella gestured them inside, telling Amy, "Put him on the bed."

Amy did as the other woman suggested, asking Donovan, "What can I do for you?"

She stuck with him until he slipped into unconsciousness. Ella was outside somewhere. Amy went outside and found her standing in an opening of the trees, just staring off toward the valley and mountain ranges down range toward distant and unseen Denver. She studied the woman for several minutes before walking out to stand next to her.

"How's he doing?" Ella asked with a polite smile.

"He's alive," Amy said after shrugging her shoulders. A long moment passed before she added, "He's alive because of you. Thank you."

Ella looked to the younger woman, smiled again, and responded by only nodding her head. She went back to looking at the land. After another long moment, Ella told Amy what Donovan had told her about the girl's mother. "You must miss her. I was married. Had a child. I miss them both."

She realized that she'd told Amy about having been a mother, something she hadn't told Donovan. She didn't know why at first. Then it came to her. Ella was going to have a more difficult time getting Amy on her side, when it came to getting along.

"Her name was Megan," Ella began. She told Amy all about her daughter, from learning that she was pregnant to birthing the girl a month premature to enjoying the infant's first laugh. She finished with a somber tone, "I miss her every day."

A chill ran up Amy's spine, her tremble observed by the older woman. Ella turned back to the house, telling her new roommate, "Let's gather some wood ... keep the house warm and cook some dinner. I have a couple of sleeping bags. We should get you comfy."
 
The two women -- Ella had a heard time thinking of Amy as such -- spent the rest of the evening just doing things that needed to be done.

They brought in more wood, with Ella explaining that you never knew when another snow storm was going to sweep in. It was April -- "Tax Day", Ella said, thinking it might be the 15th -- and there had been an early thaw, but that didn't mean that any minute between now and June there couldn't be more white stuff falling from the sky.

Amy hadn't had a chance to clean up, let alone actually bathe, since her near encounter with Marcus ... what, five, six days ago? (She's seriously lost track during her couple of days apart from Donovan.) Ella sympathized greatly and told the younger woman, "You're gonna love this."

In one of the corners close to the wood stove, Ella pulled a dusty tarp off a large item. It was a common plastic, 50 gallon barrel for holding water or other fluids, except this one had two copper pipes leading from it to the back of the wood stove, one with little pump in line with it. Ella flipped on the pump, explaining that it was powered by a small solar panel on the top of the cabin, and water and air bubbled up to the surface of the water that filled about 2/3s of the tub.

"Do you have any idea how much snow it takes to make 30 gallons or so of water?" she laughed. She nodded toward the 5 gallon bucket she'd used to pack in the white stuff, adding, "I'll tell ya, it's more than 6 trips, that's for sure."

Ella told the other female that she'd used the water just once, then asked if she wanted to pack in fresh snow from one of the yet-to-melt shady areas outside, to which the girl laughed, "Hell, no, right now I'd bathe in a mud puddle."

"That's the first time you've done that," Ella said cryptically. When Amy only gave the older woman a curious look, Ella clarified, "Laugh."

Amy didn't know how to respond to that. Her conscious response was to look away to Donovan for his reaction; her unconscious reaction was to blush, which resulted in the second diversion of her eyes away from both adults.

"It looks good on you, Amy ... laughter," Ella said, trying to diffuse an awkward situation she hadn't meant to create. "Anyway, help me with this."

Between them, they strung up the tarp that had been over the barrel to block off that corner of the room. The barrel's contents had already been room temperature, and with the addition of the hot water from the pot atop the wood stove, the bath was on its way to an early use.

"You might as well give your clothes a good soak while you're in there, Amy," Ella said. "Wash'em good and clean, then we'll hang'em to dry outside in the sun. We can drain the barrel for the next bath."

As they worked together, Ella was trying to use the girl's name as often as she could. There had been tension from the moment the two had met, that had been obvious. Ella hadn't expected a beautiful, sexy, young woman to suddenly appear in the forest with the man about whom she'd already been having ... intimate thoughts.

And Amy...? Well, she hadn't expected any one, let alone a woman, and most certainly not one who she thought was also beautiful and sexy. While they worked, she was polite to Ella. But she was having a harder time creating a friendly bridge between them. Sometimes Ella reminded Amy of her mother, although the redhead was, what, maybe 10 or 12 years older than her, as opposed to the 20 years that had separated mother and daughter.

Sometimes, Ella had that instructive tone in her voice as the two of them were working. Other times, she seemed ... well, dominant wasn't the word. Ella was polite in her instructions as they strung up the tarp and moved some furniture and junk around to give Amy a private place to undress; but the younger woman couldn't help but remember back to when she'd been in school or in sports -- ugh, she'd hated sports -- or in her clubs, all of which had been dominated by older, more experienced girls who'd always thought they'd known more than she did.

"If you need anything more, just ask," Ella said once the bath room was prepared. She'd still had some soap, shampoos, and other girly things she'd found and horded away over the first days when she, Robert, and Megan fled Denver. She gave Amy a hotel-style single use bottle of soap, telling her, "Use this. You can't really rinse fully, and this won't itch after, like the bar soap will."

"I know that," the teen responded. The words were sharp but at a low volume, meant as a jab but not a fatal one. When Ella didn't respond with a similar blackness in her tone, Amy felt guilty. She diverted her eyes and said with a kinder tone, "I mean ... thanks. I knew that ... but ... thanks for, you know..."

"I know," Ella said with a polite smile. She pointed to a little valve on one the copper pipe with the pump, explained that it controlled the flow of hot water for temperature control, then told the younger woman, "Take all the time you need. If you aren't out by morning, we'll send a search party."

To Ella's surprise, the teen laughed yet again ... and blushed yet again. The older woman pulled the tarp to provide more privacy, then crossed to sit nearer Donovan. They chatted a while, about the cabin, about his injuries, and about the ingenious bath tub.

"Robert's creation," Ella explained. "An yes, when you're feeling better, you can use it, too. But you're filling it with clean water after you're done. No way I'm bathing in a guy's nasty dirty water."

From beyond the tarp, Amy called out in agreement, "Me neither ... ick!"

They spent the next hour or so checking Donovan's bandages, preparing some food and eating, and doing some more cleaning. Ella apologized for the condition of the cabin, reminding them that she hadn't entertained guests since before the world died.

"You can take the bed, Don," Ella told the man. She saw his reaction to the shortened version of his name and laughed. She said, "C'mon, you can't expect me to call you Donovan all the time. It's too ... too formal."

"I always hated that name!" Amy called out from beyond the tarp. She laughed, recalling, "When my mother introduced us that first time, I laughed. I didn't meant to. It just ... I mean, c'mon, really? Donovan...? Wasn't he a singer or actor or something back like, a thousand years ago?"

"Donovan Leitch," Ella filled in. She saw Don's reaction, then added with a feigned expression of bad memories, "My grandmother ... I used to stay with here a couple of months ever summer when I was little. All she ever listened to was the Monkeys, the Beatles ... the Who, the Guess Who ... and Donovan!"

She feigned a chill running up and down her spine, looked Donovan right in the eyes, and said firmly, "You can have a choice ... Don or Hey you."

After they'd finished that conversation, Ella began preparing a more long term sleeping arrangement. She took down two of the three sleeping bags from atop the planks running across the log beams above them -- the attic she called it -- told Don, "You can have the bed. Amy and I will take the floor, and tomorrow we'll do something about making beds for--"

"I sleep with Donovan," Amy called from her private space, correcting quickly, "Don!"

Ella looked quickly to Don, then diverted her gaze away to the sleeping bag from which she'd been shaking dust. She felt the blood rushing away from her face as jealousy raged through her. I sleep with Donovan...? What the fuck does that mean? Ella had been under the distinct impression that the two weren't lovers! Don had said nothing about it. Sure, Amy had kissed the man earlier. But his reaction had seemed to Ella as one of surprise. And he'd talked about Amy as if she was nothing more than his ex-lover's daughter.

Before Ella or Don could react, though, Amy called out with a tone that seemed to include some embarrassment, "I mean ... I don't sleep with him. I just mean ... we sleep next to each other ... you know, to keep warm. But ... I can sleep in a bag ... by myself ... if ... if that's what you want, Don."
 
Throughout their conversation, Don simply nodded a few times and tried to relax, the walk up the hill had taxed him far more than he thought it might have. Laying back, he listened as they agreed to call him 'Don' instead of his full given name.

"That's fine you two, just so long as nobody starts calling me 'Williams'. You'll give me flashbacks if you do." He laughed at the thought of these two in BDU fatigues barking out orders, course the orders he might take from either of them also raised one of his eyebrows. He shook his head and tried to wipe those ides form his mind, He was a guest, and to think about fucking the daylights out of Ella, just wasn't appropriate. Thinking of Amy in cut offs and an OD Green t-shirt with her stomach showing he couldn't help but get a bit of a hard on. Of course. there was the idea of seeing either of them wearing his old uniform. Victoria had done it once, and they'd fucked like crazy for hours. He'd had to send it to the dry cleaners, but it had been well worth it.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Don hadn't been thinking about anything like this in months? What the hell was it that allowed these thoughts to penetrate his mind? Was it the injuries? was it Amy's kiss? the idea of either woman stripping down and bathing naked in that make shift tub just inches from him? Don didn't have a clue why.. but he'd better get a handle on it or he'd say, do something inappropriate.

When Ella joined him sitting next to him checking on his injuries and his bandages he could feel his cock swell again. It was her simple innocent touch caring for someone she didn't know. There was a time her face was so close, he's honestly thought of kissing the side of her face, or taking her hand in his and kissing the top of it.

"You are pathetic Donovan, get a grip buddy.." He said to himself. "This woman doesn't want you."

His internal discussion made him miss half of their questions, he thought they'd called him dirty, suggesting that he use new bathwater.. Not something he should really debate, he did feel rather.. ripe.

"You'll get no argument from me, I'm not sure either of you would want to share bathwater with me let alone anything else. I'm feeling rather like the gimp over here, so I'll put myself to use carrying snow over as soon as I'm able."

His comments, his humor was sure to fall flat, but it didn't matter he figured, at least he was trying to participate in the conversation. However, his ears perked up when Ella started talking about sleeping arrangements. That's when Amy said it..


"I sleep with Donovan,
He caught it.. She'd said it, they'd slept together. No matter how hard one might try, that can't be unsaid. But Amy tried to correct it by commenting further.

I mean ... I don't sleep with him. I just mean ... we sleep next to each other ... you know, to keep warm. But ... I can sleep in a bag ... by myself ... if ... if that's what you want, Don."

He wasn't sure how deep the hole was that he'd have to dig himself out of, but he may as well try.

"Amy's right, we've shared body heat on more than one occasion, Crossing over the pass we got stuck out in the elements and at this elevation we had to sleep together simply to keep warm. There was this show on TV with some British special forces guy, he'd taken some big famous basketball star out in the woods and they'd buried themselves in leaves, We did that, Covered our packs, ourselves from head to toe in leaves. I think that was one of the first nights after we escaped from Marcus's group. Thankfully with this cabin you've probably been able to bundle in and stay warm, but in the winter months it got damn cold out there."

Memories flooded back to one particular morning when they'd nearly froze, they'd buried themselves in the ground and covered up. He remembered Amy nearly lost a toe that night to frost bite and luckily had found Marcus's group the day after. But it had been so cold they'd had to huddle together. There was no pleasure in it, they'd had to simply to keep alive.

Hopefully his explanation was enough, but for the sake of their host, he thought it would be best for them to discontinue any previous sleeping arrangements.

"I think you get a pass Amy, no more me snoring in your ear like you've accused me of..."

Looking at Ella he smiled, "She's been accusing me of snoring, I say it was bears, or elk.. I don't snore.."

He'd said it at a lower tone of voice half way expecting Amy to chime in and scold him.

the subject he thought settled, they spent the rest of the night talking about what to do tomorrow, plan out looking for food, or keeping an eye out for others who might've come searching for them. Between the food conversation and everything else, eventually he nodded off sometime in the night.

He thought he heard movement, wasn't sure of it, but he did miss Amy pressed back against him in some quiet naughty way. "Purge those thoughts Donovan..." he thought to himself. It would do him no good to think of Amy or Ella that way..

Over the next several days Donovan slowly recovered enough where he could help out in some minor ways, his strength wasn't entirely back yet, but they decided to try and gather additional wood for the small stove in the cabin. He also knew he'd have to help Ella go through some of the stuff she'd collected over the winter, some might be salvageable, other stuff they should just get rid of. He'd decided it was time that he also get a good look at who else was out there. With some delicate discussion, he asked Ella to show him a decent spot to look out at Winter Park to see if he could find any activity. They'd have to probably hike farther up the mountain side, but, it would be worth it, Taking his binoculars with him, he hoped Ella would show the way.

"I'd like to make sure we know who's down there. Keep our distance if we need to. And, know who to expect coming. if anyone heads in this direction. Remote as this place is, someone might come up this way."
 
Amy:

Don began clarifying her comment about sleeping together even more than Amy had. She ceased her movements in the bathing barrel in an attempt to hear all. Every thing he said was all very accurate. It was also a little ... insulting ... and disappointing as well.

Don was making it clear that there had never been anything sexual between the two of them. Amy didn't blame him for that; after all, she was essentially his step-daughter, and she was more than a decade younger than him as well.

But Amy's recent fantasies about perhaps finally giving up her virginity to the man who'd long been fucking her own dearly departed mother weren't helped toward their rightful end by hearing him say it was all about shared body heat. And even though Don didn't mention it, Amy couldn't help but feel a tingling in the toe she's almost lost when the temperature had dropped too low for even their very tight spooning below layers of dirt and leaves to protect them.

She smiled for a moment, remembering that night. The first time they'd ever held each other close like that, Amy had thought it kind of creepy ... particularly when she woke up shivering at one point and was certain she could feel Don's cock erect and pressing against one of her young, firm butt cheeks.

Now that she thought of it, that was probably the night, the night when her feelings -- her warm between the thighs feelings -- began for Don. She'd never had an interest in him before the apocalypse, except maybe for an occasional masturbation session that followed a fight with her mother and -- in the fantasy, anyway -- always ended with Donovan choosing Amy over her mother.

Peeking over her shoulder toward the tarp to ensure that no one could see her, Amy let her hand slip down between her thighs to find the sensitive folds of flesh that -- unfortunately -- no one other than herself had toyed with to date. She checked the others again, then very lightly slipped a finger up and down, finding her clit, and shifting it left and right a dozen times or so before jerking her hand away.

You can't do this here, Amy chastised herself, grimacing in disappointment. It had been agonizing being out in the destroyed world, away from her bedroom's private bathroom where she'd been able to masturbate as often as she'd wanted. Fuck! she thought, remembering her toys and that incredible shower head she'd ordered through Amazon Prime, the one with the long, flexible hose and the head with flow control and eight pulsating settings. How many times had she run the hot water heater cold driving her self to multiple orgasms while imagining muscular line backers, leggy soccer wings, and -- yes -- Donovan?

Don's voice jerked Amy from her reminiscing, "I think you get a pass Amy, no more me snoring in your ear like you've accused me of..."

To his apparent denial of sounding like a bear snoring in the woods, Amy let out a loud, almost guttural snoring grunt, then laughed.



Ella:

"You about finished up in there, Amy?" she asked after the conversation had shifted to other survival topics. She quickly added, "I mean, no hurry. Take your time. I just didn't want you to stay in there too long and begin to boil. Donovan-- Don looks hungry enough that if I sprinkled some salt into the barrel, he might mistake you for a beef roast."

The younger woman finished up and donned a pair of too-large sweats Ella had pilfered from a home back in late Autumn. They ate, situated their beds, stoked the wood stove, and settled in for their first night together. It was difficult for Ella, of course; after finally learning to sleep next to her husband -- who rolled in the night like drift wood on the sea shore -- Ella was no longer accustomed to having other people near her as these two were. Every time Don or Amy made a sound, Ella's mind came alive and sometimes her eyes popped open as well.

Then, much later in the early morning as the full moon crossed to shine through a window down into Ella's face, the other female in the cabin rose from her sleeping bag on the floor and crawled into the bed set along one of the short walls.

"I'm cold," Ella heard Amy whisper simply. The old rickety bed creaked a bit as the girl got comfortable, then the awkward moment ended with an equally soft, "That's better. You're so warm."

Ella managed to finally drift off for a couple of hours before being the first to wake. She stoked the fire again, and paid Amy no attention as she slunk out of the bed with a somewhat guilty expression on her face.

"We'll have to come up with a better way to insulate the bags from the cold of the floor," Ella told Amy with a polite, friendly tone. It was her way of saying, I'll make it possible for you to sleep alone without actually speaking the jealous-sounding words. When Amy only nodded her agreement, Ella asked, "Hungry?"

The rest of the day and the days to come were pretty ... tame in comparison to the first exchange between the women down at the waterfall. They began to get along much better, and with Don they got a lot of work done about the cabin.

Donovan, for his part, was getting better every day as well. His strength wasn't entirely back yet, but that hadn't stopped Ella from giving him chores or stopped Amy from calling him a whiner when the sharp pains sometimes kept him from completing them in a timely fashion.

With winter likely over and the last of the snow beginning to melt from under the shade of the trees and cliff edges, Ella thought it a good time to think about building a water collection system. As if to emphasize how important water was going to be, she sniffed at the Donovan as he passed her, saying, "Those sponge baths aren't cutting it. You need to get into that barrel and scrub!"

Between them, Ella and Amy drained the barrel, melted a sufficient volume for Don, and used some of her collection to build some steps for him to get into the 33 and 1/2 inch tall barrel without help. (Either of the women would have been more than happy to strip the man to his birthday suit and help him inside alone ... but ... neither of them had done so because ... well ... if you looked up the word Awkward in the dictionary, you would have found a photograph in the margin of the two of them fighting over assisting a very naked Don.)

They left him alone to bathe and sat out front of the cabin. They chatted casually, both of them trying not to let the other know that each of them was trying to picture Don naked and running a soapy washrag over his muscular body.

Over the next several days, life began to get a little less awkward. Don had decided it was time that he also get a good look at who else was out there. Ella began taking him -- or sometimes him and Amy both -- on walks along the fairly level plateau; then, as his strength improved, farther up the mountain side.

"I'd like to make sure we know who's down there. Keep our distance if we need to. And, know who to expect coming. if anyone heads in this direction. Remote as this place is, someone might come up this way."

"It makes sense," Ella agreed, adding with a smirk, "I mean, after all, recently some guy and his daughter showed up on my door ... and now I have to share my bathtub and canned asparagus."

Referring to Amy as Don's daughter hadn't been accidental. Ella had noticed a growing intimacy to how the younger woman was dealing with her mother's former lover. Oh, it wasn't anything sexual per se. They weren't making out or reaching into one another's underwear for a grope. But ... Ella was sure that Amy was making a move toward radically changing her relationship with the man that Ella herself was now frequently picturing below her as she rocked to and fro atop his bared groin.


Amy (again):

Just as Ella was suspecting, Amy was beginning to feel increasingly more attracted to Don. She spent more time near him, particularly when Ella was off doing something on her own; and she'd taken to sometimes wearing all or some of the skimpy outfit Marcus's sex toy had given to her just before she'd very nearly been raped, despite the chill of the early spring air and the scrutinizing glances she got from Ella and Don both.

She didn't care. What were they going to do about it? Ground her? Amy had assumed some of the chores and taken a significant role about the property. Well, okay, maybe not significant! If she'd been out here on her own, she'd be dead already from a lack of food, water, firewood, etc. But, she was helping. Of course, she usually helped more when she could do her tasks with Don. But still, it was help, right.

She didn't like going on the hikes, though, so she'd only gone out on a few in the beginning. Instead, she would quietly ask Don if maybe Ella shouldn't go out on her own. If he said he wanted to go, she'd shrug and tell him, "Fine, maybe I'll take my bath ... or catch some sun or something."


Ella ... yes, again!

It was their sixth day together at the cabin when she and Donovan made their longest and -- for the still healing man -- most exhausting trek up the mountainside. She took him to a point where he could look down on Winter Park. It was too far away to see individual people, of course. But at least one of the pillars of smoke rising from near what might have been a cabin had the look of being man-caused, indicating that there might be people down there now.

"I'm glad you're here, Donovan," Ella said out of nowhere after a long moment of silence surveying. When he looked to her, Ella blushed more than obvious with her pale complexion. She thought she should add Amy to her comment -- "Glad you and Amy are here -- and yet she didn't, adding only, "I have very much enjoyed your company ... and ... I hope you'll stay around for a while ... even after you're feeling good enough to strike out."

She diverted her eyes a moment, then looked back, explaining, "Yes ... I've, um ... I've heard you talking with Amy on occasion ... about leaving. I, um ... I know she wants to move on. But I want you to know that you're welcome to stay as long as you want. Both of you, of course."

Ella listened to Don's response, then laughed. She shed her back pack, pulled out and tossed him a can of shaving cream, then withdrew a straight edged razor that Robert had used even before the Sickness.

"However...!" she said, pointing to the stump of a long ago logged tree before pointing to his beard. "That...! That has got to go. You know it does! Amy said so, too. And if Amy and I agree on it, you know it has to be true. So, take a fucking seat and lather up ... or I might use this blade somewhere other than your face."

For the fun of it, Ella glanced threatening toward Don's groin as she made a slashing gesture through the air with the blade.
 
Don had caught her comments, he was sure she'd just mentioned him but had probably meant both him and Amy. He took Ella's comments to heart and appreciated her words. They'd only known each other for a short time, but could a common thread be found in such a short time? What horrors were they both carrying around with them that weighed them down. Surely Donovan had lost Victoria, Ella had lost her husband, they'd lost family, brothers, sisters, cousins.. everyone. The one person who 'wasn't' baggage was Amy. Amy didn't complicate anything, she added to everything. To Don, she was... what he hoped would come from this shit hole world. She'd make it better. And he'd do his best to try and give her a better than fighting chance at that. Of course, this didn't prevent her from being a complicated hormonal young woman. Amy was no 'girl' at least Don didn't think of her that way. Why was that? was it because the'd been through some pretty serious shit and survived? Was it because she had killed a man to save both their lives? No, despite Amy being complicated at times, he gave her credit. She had her mother's strengths behind her eyes.

"I appreciate that, I, I just don't want to out stay our welcome. You know how a scruffy, ugly old guy like me and an 18 year old girl can be a weight. We can be noisy, I supposedly snore, smelly, all those things. But honestly Ella, I don't know where we'd go, but I do know that 'we' meaning Amy and I need to start contributing to this little trio. Amy and I should learn some medical skills, I hope you might be able to teach us. What would we do if you got hurt? If you fell and crashed like I did. I also know Amy is one hell of a good shot. I took her out to the range a few times and she was patient. That patience saved my life not long ago. Now me, I may not look like much, but I can make myself useful.. folding clothes, making beds, emptying tubs, foraging for berries.. all that stuff."

She laughed and he found himself smiling and laughing right with her.

When she commented about his beard he got a bit defensive..at least for half a second. He was going to comment that he'd be ok with trimming it up, he'd honestly gotten used to the more rough look of his face. He'd been clean shaven for as long as he could remember and now that he had a beard, it was something he liked. Besides, he was a cop at one point in his life, If another survivor who he'd sent to Jail had gotten out, they might take the opportunity to get even. That being said, he could always grow it back. He was about to agree, but her threatened to use the blade somewhere else, his eyes went a little wide. Playfully he talked back to her and said "Oh yea? You come near me with that thing down below and we'll find out just as quick how smooth shaven you like it...."

The idea of stripping Ella down to her socks and finding out if the carpet did match the drapes was.. enticing..

But, resigned to the fact that they were right, and well if he wanted to keep on living it was best to shave it off. Don, looked at the shaving can, then back to her, he spoke with a bit of playfulness to his voice.

"I can trust you, you've done this before?" He thought better of his question, he shouldn't have said it. She was being playful and damn it if he wasn't destroying whatever playful banter was going on between them. Trying to recover he looked into Ella's green eyes, and handed back the can of shaving cream. "Could you? I might miss a spot." It was a dumb comment, surely she could see right through it.but it was also his way of giving her permission to come closer to him, that he felt he could trust her with this. This was one of those times when he though it would be better not to think about what was,or what might be, only to 'be' in the moment and enjoy it.

Walking over he brushed off the stump and took a seat, waiting for Ella.
 
Don tossed the can of shaving cream"I can trust you, you've done this before?"

Ella laughed and again slashed the blade through the air, rather maniacal this time. "They call me the Southside Slasher. Maybe you heard about me on 60 Minutes...?"

She laughed as she turned him on his stump-stool to get better light on his face. She shed her back pack and rifle, leaning it such that it was out of the way yet easy to get to. Ella shed her gloves and coat as well, getting comfortable. Slapping his knees, she told him to part them, laughing again as she promised, "No, I won't slash anything down there.

Ella dropped to her knees on the soft, forest floor, edged up just close enough to have easy access to Don's face, then began filling the tips of one hand's fingers with cream that she spread on his out of control beard.

"Yes, I have done this before," she finally answered, hesitating before telling Don, "I used to shave my husband all the time. Robert didn't like electrics. They chaffed him. Disposables were the norm, but ... sometimes."

Done spreading the foam, she opened the blade again, explaining that it was sharp and clean as she had been planning for days to make him shed his fur. "This was Robert's father's razor. It actually has quite a story to it."

As she reached up and turned his face as necessary, Ella told the history of the blade: of how it had been passed down to Robert from his father; of how an elderly man from long defunct West Berlin had given it to him for getting him safely beyond the Berlin Wall; of how that man had taken it off the dead body of a Russian soldier during the Siege of Stalingrad; and finally of how that Russian -- a sniper of some fame, according to history that had only come out in the past few decades -- had received the razor from an émigré relative who'd been living in London at the start of the war, a relative who had been engaged to an American studying at Oxford, a young woman with whom the blade had begun its worldly trek because it had been the only thing the young student had had left of her recently departed father.

"So, full circle, I guess," Ella said as she carefully brought the blade down Don's cheek, cutting away the long hairs in a mess of stubble and cream. She wiped the blade again on a towel she'd brought with her, clarifying, "The straight edge began its life here in the U.S. ... and it made its way back. Eighty years of shaving the faces of men of four nations ... five if you count the U.S. twice, I guess."

Ella playfully took Don's nose in the pinch of two fingers and raised his head to shave his mustache. She laughed at his reaction, and went back to what he'd said about him and Amy out staying their welcome. "If I ever come to the conclusion that it's time for you to move on, Donovan ... I'll let you know. But ... for now ... let's just not talk about that ... okay?"

She turned his face this way and that to look for stubborn hairs that didn't want to be dislodged and continued, "You and Amy have been contributing ... and ... I appreciate that. She's a good girl. A bit lazy at times. A bit moodier at others. But I was a teenage girl once, too. I understand what she's going through. This can't possibly be easy on her. Just ... give her time."

Ella turned the towel to hide the goopy foam mess inside, then wiped Don's face to rid it of the little bits of white still on his skin. She turned his head to examine him, then laughed. "Jesus, who the hell are you? I thought I was shaving ... Oh! Donovan! It is you."

She examined the new look for a moment, running her fingertips over his face to look for spots she'd missed. She ran the blade over on spot on his chin, then another on his neck. Then ... Ella's playfulness began to wane ... and the expression on her face began to soften. She was looking into his eyes for a long moment ... then at his lips ... and ... reaching both hands up to take his face into them, she leaned in slowly with the intention of kissing him...
 
Don listened intently, to the story about the straight razor. He remembered Robert, he'd cracked a few jokes here and there, nothing too dirty, the few times he'd interacted with him, Robert had been professional, cared about the patients, but kept his professional distance. Honestly he wished he could remember more about him, tell Ella something positive about the man she'd chosen to marry. But he just couldn't remember much. So much had happened in the last six months, so many people died so quickly, and terribly. It made intimate times like this where Ella was sharing personal stories more meaningful. Ella's hands on his face, calmed him to the core, He could feel himself take a few deep breaths and exhale, calming down dramatically from his initial nervousness.

He wanted to say thank you, he wanted to say, Victoria never did this for him, but he didn't feel it would be a good idea to bring up the dead any more than they already had. He sat perfectly still, mouth close, but his eyes watched her every move. Sometimes looking at the nape of her neck, wondering what she smelled like there. What would it feel like to run his hands through her hair?

When she was done, he couldn't help but give a quirky smile. Donovan wanted to speak, or say something but her hands held his face something happened inside.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched his face so gently, with genuine care it was if a switch was gently tripped, someone had silenced the world and allowed the two of them to exist together, alone in this one moment. Ella's playful expression left her face and she grew a bit closer, he instinctively matched her actions, looking into her eyes, and then her lips.

The kiss was subtle at first, Donovan stayed perfectly still letting Ella control how this started. He slowly met her lips, and pulled ever so slightly her bottom lip as they broke the first touch. Meeting her eyes, the side of his nose touched hers, and his hands slowly went to her waist. His hands didn't dare move up or anywhere else for fear of breaking whatever trance they were both in. Slowly they kissed, Don wanted Ella to lead the way, let this happen at her pace, but he also made sure she knew by his responses that her kiss was welcome.

One kiss turned into another, then another, their lips were closed each time, exploring. Don eventually brought his right hand to the small of her back, his left to the side of her face, slowly moving a few stray hairs away. He made eye contact, and subtly smiled. He was afraid to speak and break the moment. Instead, his left hand weaved into the back of Ella's hair and he kissed her chin, leaving a trail to behind her ear then stopping and returning to her lips. This time, his lips parted slowly..

The taste, and feel of her lips.. was intoxicating..
 
Back
Top