by Rose Francis
He also sensed she had an attraction to him, and although her job didn’t require it like his did, her poker face was impressive.
He would’ve believed her act—as apparently his best friend did—if he didn’t have a nibbling gut feeling that she was having at least half as hard a time in his presence as he had in hers; she was a remarkable little actress.
And her body was quite remarkable too.
Even in her current state, while other girls would look like ten-year old boys at her current weight, her body still had beautiful, womanly curves—her slender neck looking as inviting as ever, melding into shoulders impossibly well-made and feminine, and her divine bottom, although smaller, still had a juicy curve to it. Where other girls would now look like skin hanging on to bones, the muscles of Serena’s previously toned body hung on for dear life, but they were there, her brown skin still clear and bright.
He couldn’t believe how healthy and strong she looked; then again, Serena always struck him as a sort of quiet warrior—a hardy woman unafraid to fend for herself and more than capable of doing so. A woman he would love to take beneath him and show her how little her inner strength meant when up against superior physical strength.
Steven shook his head as if it would help shake away the startling, horribly inappropriate thoughts invading him. He was disappointed in himself, in his inability to control his desire for her like he had before.
He felt it rising in him at a different level than ever as if, with the barrier of her marriage to his best friend gone, his control had gone with it.
He had to find a way to restrain himself again; he couldn’t risk scaring her. Then again, what could she do? Run off into Zombie-land alone? She was safer with him, regardless.
“What’s wrong?” she asked suddenly, watching him with worried, curious eyes.
He realized he probably looked more than a little weird sitting there shaking his head.
He decided not to answer her; he couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough.
“Keep eating,” he said. “We need to fatten you up again.”
He was glad when he realized his words easily fit his actions, and he saw offense climb up her face, her facial muscles clearly still working just fine as well.
She looked one half-step away from slapping him.
“Excuse you?”
“You were never fat,” he said quickly, “at least, fat in the right places, I guess.” His cheeks burned. “I mean...” Get it together, Steven! “You know what I mean,” he said dismissively, in his usual calculated, casual, unaffected tone as he threw off his blunder. “You look like a stick. I’ve never known you to look like a stick and what you had going on before all this is a better look for you. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Oh, so I actually look like I’m starving after starving? Thanks for the newsflash. You’re certainly a bringer of great joy.”
“You’re not just my best friend’s wife,” he said, his voice softening tremendously without him even trying to, “I actually care about you, Serena. I’m here to keep you alive and get you healthy again. You don’t look bad—you look beautiful as ever. It’s just that...well, it’s clear your body has started feasting on itself. I’ve never been a fan of the starving model look, and I know you never went for it either.”
He saw that his attempt to soothe things over worked as he watched her body relax.
What he wanted more than anything in that moment was to take her in his arms to comfort her, and he sorely wished he had done so when he first saw her upstairs.
“I kinda dig it, though,” she said, smiling. “My stomach hasn’t been this flat since I was twenty!”
He knew she was being modest. Her body had always been fabulous as far as he could tell. Small waist giving in to...
“Steven, what has gotten into you?” she asked suddenly, her eyes slightly widened, the lighter mood quickly evaporating.
I’d like to get into you, he almost said, then cursed out loud when he realized how close he had been to saying it.
“A lot’s been going on in case you haven’t noticed,” he said coldly, intent on throwing her off whatever scent she’d picked up. “A man can’t have a moment to reflect? Do you have any idea what I’ve seen?”
He saw embarrassment come over her face, despite knowing the look she must’ve caught on him was not at all a look of far-off reflection since he had been actively scrutinizing her body.
He figured she easily doubted her sight and what her brain told her in her current condition.
Then he wondered if, when her strength and energy returned, bringing her full personality back with it, she would banter with him and tease him like before, as if she had no fear of him from the safety of her previous position as his best friend’s wife.
He couldn’t wait to see her try to pretend she didn’t see him as a virile man quite capable of seducing her.
CHAPTER THREE: DANGER
Steven left the APC to check on the burning body outside, then checked the area again for others like it, hoping to catch soggy eyes looking back at him from behind some tree or abandoned car.
He was somewhat surprised not to see any.
Then again, he figured, perhaps they were smart enough to process the destruction of one like them, and got smarter about hiding.
Satisfied the area had remained clear, he returned to the vehicle.
He saw that Serena was still picking through the food, but she seemed sated enough to actually take in her options. Finally, she found a bag of Cheetos and opened it. He noticed her movements had slowed down tremendously.
She picked at the junk food almost distractedly, her eyes looking off to the side.
“How did this whole thing happen?” she asked, but as if to herself.
Still, he felt a need to answer.
“Chimera virus,” he said. “Some combination of rabies and a few others. It was developed as a weapon of war but...something went wrong.”
Her eyes snapped to him, widened, her face contorted in horror.
“You guys didn’t seriously think you could make something like that and be able to control it, did you? And who the hell were you going to use it on? What was it supposed to do?”
Steven felt a bit offended that she had lumped him in with the group who had been behind the project.
“Serena, I’m not exactly at liberty to tell you everything, but I will tell you this: a village of diseased people is easier to stomach blowing to smithereens, easier for the world to comprehend, even though people generally don’t think or care about civilian casualties anyway, no matter where we are. But too much attention was starting to be paid to them recently. Listen, the public will accept a heck of a lot if it means their world, their family is safe. It’s always easy to annihilate something you don’t think is like you, and possibly a danger to you.”
He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He’d been deliberately vague, and she was again looking off to the side, but instead of looking lost in a daydream, her eyes looked intelligent, alert.
“And there’s no cure, obviously,” he continued. “It’s a virus, and as such, it must take its own course. The only current treatment for its host is annihilation.”
Serena silently finished off the last of the Cheetos and licked her fingers, the act appearing to be mindless, but taking his brain back to a place he had been wrestling it from.
As she crushed the empty bag in her fist, it appeared her binge was finally over.
She looked at him with sad eyes.
Guilt gnawed at him again, and the reality of their situation returned to him easily, redirecting his wayward thoughts.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she said, somewhat lugubriously.
Steven looked down and nodded, trying to push back his own sorrow at the thought and the horrible memory of Gregory’s transformed face.
Steven felt an inquisition on the way and prepared himself for the onslaught of questions, blocking out emotional attachments to event
s and people as he had done many times before.
He felt nothing the whole time they spoke.
“What about your mom and grandma?” she began, just as he expected.
“My grandma probably had a heart attack at the first sight of those things; she died a normal human. My mom...turned. I had to put her down.”
Serena looked away, failing to mask a quick look of horror. He was proud it didn’t affect him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Then a few moments later, she looked back up at him. “What about Derek?”
Again, Steven felt no emotional tug and answered her flatly:
“My brother...he’s out there somewhere. Not sure if he’s turned or not—can’t find a trace of him. If he manages to make it, he’ll find the compound; he’ll know where to go.”
“And where exactly are we going?”
Steven realized in that moment Serena was letting go of their location and the thought of her husband’s possible return.
It seemed the food had taken immediate effect, logic and practicality returning to her.
She had finally figured out why he hadn’t bothered looking for Gregory, why he had planned for them to leave as soon as possible, as if no one was left to wait for.
“Nevada,” he said, and he again saw an intelligent look in her eye—as if understanding.
She did not question him further.
Steven headed for the driver’s seat, then started up the vehicle.
* * *
Serena had no concept of how much time had gone past, but she soon felt the vehicle slow down, then come to a stop.
“We’re gonna stop for a bit,” Steven said needlessly.
Serena immediately got worried although she couldn’t pinpoint why.
“I have to rest,” he continued. “I have to make sure I don’t kill us by driving recklessly exhausted; I haven’t slept in days.”
Serena relaxed. Of course.
She thought about what she’d heard about people driving sleepy being as dangerous as—or even worse—than driving drunk.
She realized it was an opportunity for her as well.
“It’ll be so nice to sleep with both eyes closed for once,” she said jokingly, then she examined the interior of the vehicle. “This thing’s pretty solid right?”
She heard him laugh.
“Yeah. I’d say it’s pretty damned solid.”
“Okay, good. Are you going to sleep up there in the driver’s seat?”
He took a moment before answering. “I probably should.”
Serena wasn’t sure what to make of his response. “Anyway, there’s still space back here—more space than up there, anyway. You’ll get to stretch out a bit and get a better night—or day’s rest, and we’ve got a long drive ahead. What’s top speed on these things anyway?”
Again he paused before answering.
“Forty,” he said, and something nibbled at her gut but she had no clue what it was.
“Still shouldn’t take us more than a day or so to get there, right? It’s, what, about a seven or eight-hour drive under normal circumstances?”
She was guessing—she knew it took her about five hours to get to Vegas from San Diego. Where she figured they were headed was north of Vegas, but she wasn’t sure how far.
“Right,” he said. “We’ll have to make more than one stop though. For various reasons. And it’s more dangerous to stop at night.”
“Why?”
It seemed he let out a breath. “They become more and more dangerous if you don’t get them in the first few days of turning—they get smarter as they make it through each night. They’re super-slow in the daytime—sitting ducks, really. Lumbering. Stupid. The sunlight—UV rays in particular—really does them in. If they make it through their first night, they become smart enough to know they should hide during the day, as much as they can—as much as they can stand it. So even if you’re not seeing any, it doesn’t mean they’re not peeking through some crevice, stalking you, watching you. They get reinvigorated as night approaches, then they’re quick as hell throughout it—they pounce like panthers. And every night they live through, they get smarter and smarter, and could theoretically return to their previous intelligence level. So obviously, you can’t go out there at night—or even the daytime unless I’m with you, escorting you. You could probably take one out if you had to in the day, but you can’t even get scratched by one; the virus isn’t like the cold virus—it’s not airborne, thankfully. But once the surface is scratched and it gets under your skin, you’re finished. So I have to have my eyes on you at all times outside of this vehicle, Serena, at all times.”
Serena shrugged the last part off. How often would she need to leave the APC?
“Anyway, I’ll take you up on that offer—I’m coming back there to sleep,” he said.
Suddenly, Serena felt on edge again, and she decided it was time to examine why she was bothered. She realized she needed to acknowledge Steven’s effect on her since they’d be spending some time together alone.
She hadn’t been blind; she was aware he’d been attracted to her for a while, had caught him looking at her with an expression she recognized immediately when she saw it pop up almost out of nowhere one day while she and her husband were out with him at a dive bar: a look of unmasked desire that woke something in her to her utter surprise.
Their spark had not been immediate—upon Gregory first introducing them, their exchanges had been polite, socially correct. Steven told her much later as the three of them sat in his apartment chatting, ignoring the television mumbling in the background, that he hoped she hadn’t been offended by his not remembering much of meeting her, but she waved off his odd apology; she understood completely. Back then, she had been to him just Gregory’s current squeeze of which he’d met many. Of course he’d had no reason to think she would last more than a few days or weeks, no real reason to really register her.
She also hadn’t been offended because she hadn’t really remembered him either. She had a vague recollection of him on her first date with Gregory when he happened to be in town, and Steven had invited them both out to have drinks with him.
But a year after that first meeting, there it was—that spark of something else.
She had thought she was seeing things at first, but she saw the look pop up again as Steven brought drinks back to their table.
Was he crazy exposing such a look to her with Gregory just a few feet away? she had wondered. Then she figured he probably had tried to mask it and had just done a poor job. Or perhaps he’d simply been unable to help himself.
Like you’re so amazing, she said to herself, but then realized she was dressed up a bit differently than the way he normally saw her—her face made up, her hair styled with care, and form-fitting clothing—her top, off the shoulder, her bottoms clinging to her. And heels! A rare occurrence.
She brushed the glances off, thinking it was simple male appreciation, the same look she caught on her own husband’s face sometimes when a pretty female walked by. Of course Gregory was not offended if he’d even caught the glances—he was probably proud, relishing the way his woman commanded male attention.
But then she started catching similar looks from Steven more often, even when she wasn’t dressed up, and each time she marveled that he didn’t seem to be trying to hide his appreciation from her.
What was wrong with him? Didn’t he know everything he was risking?
Yet somehow, her husband seemed not to pick up on those looks, and even encouraged their friendship. Once, he’d even sent them to have lunch together.
“He’s lonely, and I feel bad, but I have to work,” he’d said. “And Jason can’t go to lunch with him either, and he’s been asking around but no one else is available. Why don’t you go? He likes you, thinks you’re an okay girl to hang with. You’re part of his family now, like we are. He’s back from hell and there’s no one to look forward to coming back to but us. Please?”
Serena had don
e it despite feeling almost guilty about it.
If she hadn’t picked up on Steven’s attraction to her, it would have meant nothing, but she had. And his attraction ended up having the effect of making her see him a bit differently. All of this her husband seemed not to know as he delighted in their growing friendship.
Serena could have handled the incident better had Steven taken his intensity down a notch instead of staring at her like his eyes couldn’t get enough of her as she sat opposite him in some Mexican food place. Didn’t he have the decency to at least try to avert his eyes and pretend like having her right in front of him didn’t matter? Couldn’t he have treated her like she was his other friend, Jason? She doubted he stared into Jason’s face like this.
Then she began to wonder—was he trying to unnerve her? Test her? Was this some sort of setup on behalf of her husband? A honey trap? But Steven couldn’t possibly be that good of an actor, could he?
She was glad when the lunch finally ended and, since she didn’t see him often, it was easy to put the whole thing out of her mind. The next thing she knew he’d be off again, and she wouldn’t have to think about him for three or four months.
But then each hello and goodbye became more meaningful after.
When they greeted each other upon his next return from overseas, his hug seemed to go on a tad too long. When they casually started throwing “love ya” around as he was about to leave for another work assignment, and no one knew if he’d return alive, Steven’s “love you” seemed a little too ardent as he said goodbye, especially in the face of her own more casual one—the kind she gave to all types of friends she had around whether she’d known them a while or not, the kind she offered to her in-laws.
Serena chalked it up to him appropriately treating the moment with the gravity it deserved since there was a very real possibility they would never see each other again, and he was the one in danger of losing his life after all. Obviously, he wanted those words to be the last she heard from him; he wanted to give her his sincerity and let her know he treasured her.
Understandable.
