Trapped

by Rose Francis

  He’d been rougher with her this time around, as if mad at her for something.

  Had she actually angered him by refusing to kiss him? Why would he care about that? He clearly only wanted her for her body—what difference did it make if she kept her mouth and heart out of their sexual encounters?

  Serena was struck by the realization that her heart was a real concern—that she was actually in emotional danger.

  Although physically powerless to stop him from having his way with her body, she figured she still had control over how much of her spirit he could conquer, but she realized in horror that even that control was waning.

  She had known women who were able to keep up sexual relationships without becoming emotionally attached for a while, and had even done so herself at some point long ago. But the way Steven was able to jar her, make her feel almost helpless to his mercy yet desire that helplessness—she knew it meant that he could annihilate her defenses.

  An image from an old video game suddenly came to mind—the gruesome memory of the finishing move exacted on her when she played with a neighbor once. Her neighbor’s character, after beating hers to a pulp, reached into her character’s chest and ripped her heart out, holding the still-beating organ up triumphantly.

  She had met just one guy before her husband who’d had the power to exact such a move on her metaphorically, but he never realized it—or decided not to take advantage of it—and when they eventually broke up, the detachment she had retained helped her get over their relationship.

  But Steven seemed to know his power, and as ruthless as he was in seducing her, he let her keep some of hers for some reason she couldn’t fathom.

  She knew if he wanted to, he could force his tongue down her throat and keep it there until she joined in, but he chose not to. He had the power to tie her to him with a child, but he chose not to. And she had the distinct impression he knew he had the power to wear her down and make her emotionally dependent on him, that he could exact a finishing move on her—and that he fully planned to do so.

  How else could he get her to kiss him?

  The problem was, was it all just a game to him?

  She wanted to beg him not to do it—to not treat her like some game board piece or arcade amusement since she didn’t really know him, and therefore, could not convince herself that he wouldn’t do such a thing to her.

  He had said: “I wouldn’t do that to you” to her once, but it was for something she’d like to think most men wouldn’t do. But play with a girl’s heart? She had seen that one play out far too often; many men didn’t seem to have a problem with that. It seemed to boost their ego to have some poor girl longing for them, unable to leave them, even if for their own good.

  Serena let out a heavy breath.

  She had no idea what game Steven was playing.

  She understood he was quenching some long-sitting thirst so she suspected he would take her until he felt like he’d had his fill of her, but then what? They’d gone far beyond a superficial friendship, but in the new world, what would they be? And why the hell did she even care?

  Serena wasn’t sure if her vulnerability was exacerbated by their circumstances or not, considering half the world had collapsed, and loved ones had been rapidly snuffed out, but she figured those factors had to have something to do with how she was feeling; after all, Steven had saved her. In this new, confusing world rapidly degenerating to survival basics, Steven was taking her to a place where she could continue to survive and flourish.

  He was her hero in a way—although she’d never tell him that—so of course her emotions and thoughts were clouded.

  CHAPTER EIGHT: CONFESSIONS

  Steven left Serena for the driver’s seat after their third intimate session and began driving again.

  “We’re not that far away, are we?” Serena asked after they’d been driving for a while.

  “No, but we’ll stay near a body of water until I’ve had enough of you so we can wash off our sins and get started again. But you probably already guessed that.” He paused for a few moments. “You have no idea how long I’ve had to hold this back, Serena, how hard it was—or maybe you do. In any case, I don’t know how long it’ll take to get it out of my system, but we’ll get you to safety soon enough.”

  Serena didn’t know how she felt about him warning her of his impending seductions.

  It seemed he wanted to say more—the air felt heavy with unspoken words, but he remained quiet.

  Eventually, the vehicle started slowing down for another stop.

  Serena guessed they had reached the body of water.

  She heard him close the door as he left the vehicle for what she assumed was a bath, then jumped as she heard a shot.

  She immediately panicked, worried about his safety and ached for a window to look out of.

  She knew Steven was far more than a capable marksman and had most likely killed another Morph, but what if someone had actually shot at him? She didn’t know how to drive the APC!

  Serena also knew that that wasn’t the only reason she was worried.

  “Steven, are you okay?” she shouted, fighting the urge to leave the vehicle and check for herself. She knew he’d be furious if she did, and would probably use it as an excuse to fuck her roughly and angrily.

  “Serena, stay inside!” he shouted, and the relief washing over her almost immobilized her as all her muscles relaxed almost to the point of turning her into a blob.

  She sharply remembered how much danger he was in whenever he left the APC—from both the Morphs and careless, trigger-happy surviving humans.

  An ache came over her heart as she thought about something happening to him, and she put her hand over her chest as if that would stop the pain.

  Transference, she thought. From your husband to him. Besides, you’ve known him for four years or so anyway—of course you care about him a bit. Plus, who else have you got now?

  Serena had no idea of the status of her scattered family members, but she suddenly realized she had already accepted them as dead; most of the population seemed to be, although she had no idea of actual numbers.

  She decided she’d ask Steven about it when he returned.

  She dropped her hand from her chest and took in a deep breath.

  She wasn’t a zombie—she still had her brains to help her out of whatever mess they’d gotten into with each other. Or at least talking about concrete, logical things would keep her feeling like some semblance of her old self.

  When Steven joined her in the back of the vehicle, damp and clean, he asked her if she was ready for her turn.

  She nodded and got ready to follow him outside.

  “I can bathe you if you want,” he offered in a voice uncharacteristically tender, and she quickly declined, shaking her head vigorously as she discarded her clothes and slipped into the water.

  She tried not to look back at the burning body of the Morph in the distance.

  When she was finished, Steven toweled her like before, but didn’t leave her to put on her clothes in private this time, joining her as she stepped back into the vehicle.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with herself so she sat there with the towel wrapped around her.

  She definitely wasn’t changing in front of him—even though he’d already touched, quite intimately, every part of her she was trying to hide.

  “Do you guys have any estimates of survivors?” she asked him, towel and body pulled tight, legs firmly together.

  She was glad he was sitting opposite her, even though his eyes had sort of glazed over at her question.

  “Has the world been infected?” she asked when he still didn’t answer.

  She started preparing to ask another question when he finally opened his mouth, then went on to answer almost every question that had come to her mind over the past few weeks:

  “About two months ago, Patient Zero—a voluntary lab rat for the intended viral weapon—got a doctor. His infection lasted only about ten minutes,
but that was all the time it took for the now-infected doctor to go on and infect others. It took a while before people knew what was happening or what to do about it, and in that time, a few more doctors got infected, as well as other military personnel. Amongst them, a few super-soldiers. The super-soldiers were responsible for bringing the virus out into the public. By the time you guys got word of the outbreak, the military had spent a week trying to track them down, but they didn’t find all of them. What they found was the aftermath of their presence. Turns out after decades of zombie movies and video games, most people don’t actually have what it takes to destroy what looks like another person face to face. That’s part of the problem—the bodies start to become contagious within an hour, but the person’s physical appearance doesn’t start changing for a while—they don’t look non-human until twenty-four hours have passed. Before then, the infected person looks the same as anyone who has come down with a really bad flu. So it spread fast. Luckily, so far, it’s contained in North America. But chances are that Central and South aren’t far behind.

  “All planes were stopped from leaving here by day three, so I don’t think it’s reached Europe, Africa, Asia etc. unless some asshole with a private jet has taken someone infected with him. Anyway, I’ll get the updates when we get to the base—my intelligence on the matter is over two weeks old. In the meantime, some of us got a chance to go out and bring back our loved ones while taking out as many of the Morphs as possible. Not all of us, however—only those of us who are immune.”

  Serena felt her brow wrinkling. Did he mean...?

  “Anyway, once we get to the base, it’ll probably be all over between you and me,” he said. “But you’ll be safe there. And I’ll be relatively safe, even out there, but who knows what could happen.”

  Serena couldn’t resist interrupting this time. “Wait, how are you safe while out there? It’s like you’d be going to war again!”

  He nodded his head. “True, I’m not safe from wayward bullets, I admit. But the Morphs can’t get me.” He paused. “Like I said, I am immune. There aren’t many of us who are. And the government didn’t want to risk sending super soldiers who aren’t immune out there in case they get turned. Turned super-soldiers—even regular soldiers—are among the deadliest if they survive a few nights, and they found that out the hard way.”

  “How many of you—immune—are there?”

  “They’re not completely sure, but at last count it was five—and that’s just out of a section of the military population; I have no doubt there are a lot more like us out there. Anyway, three of us are responsible for bringing back supplies and survivors while killing as many of the Morphs as we can, while two have been held for studies. Then at some point...” He paused again. “They’re gonna call us all back, and just start bombing. Survivors among the Morphs included.”

  “Tell me more about Patient Zero,” Serena said, not ready to let go of the possibility of getting more concrete facts about their circumstances. “How did he or she get the original infection?”

  Steven was shaking his head. “I’ve already said too much. To answer your original question, at last count, the turned was rapidly closing in on half the population. Probably at three quarters by now.”

  Serena did the math in her head. Just a quarter of a country of over three hundred million were still regular humans? Impossible. She couldn’t fathom such a horror.

  Then she heard Steven sigh, almost as if in slow motion.

  “He really loved you, you know,” he said. “I mean, he really did. Despite the way he talked to you sometimes, the way you might have felt he was treating you harshly. He put you before everything, even himself--thought about you first. Everything he did, he tried to make sure you were happy, and felt safe.”

  His eyes seemed to cloud but he quickly looked away, and before she knew what was happening, he had disappeared into the driver’s seat, out of her view.

  Serena knew she had gotten away from what he’d probably intended to make another conquering session of sexual submission, but she also knew it wasn’t for long.

  CHAPTER NINE: INSATIABLE

  Steven sat in the driver’s seat, mulling over all he’d told Serena.

  He’d wanted to tell her he had more than an inkling of what Gregory had felt for her, that he more than understood the mindless sense of devotion he’d seen displayed by his best friend and others, but never quite got until recently.

  He had never felt so drawn to another human being the way Serena hypnotized him.

  After their first lovemaking sessions, he’d started the APC, but began heading in the opposite direction, away from the sanctuary, and he realized he had lost his mind—had completely lost sight of his initial mission.

  The truth was, he didn’t even want to feel like he was that much closer to having to let go of her, and he wanted to make sure he could spend more time with Serena before he had to give her up, possibly forever.

  Steven knew he scared her—he knew she was helpless to him whenever he decided he wanted to use her body. And although Serena hadn’t done anything to torment him beyond sitting in front of him, dripping wet in a towel, he felt tortured by her still, far beyond his physical and sexual attraction to her.

  He now had the power to take her anytime he wanted, but it wasn’t enough; something else was missing—some other part of her he wanted, and he wasn’t sure what it was or how to get it. She was still holding something back from him beyond her warm mouth, and it was all he could focus on. He needed it. Wanted it. Had to have it.

  But first, he had to figure out what it was.

  Somehow, she hadn’t surrendered completely to him—he hadn’t been able to rip all her power from her.

  Perhaps when he did he’d get his own mind back.

  * * *

  Steven went to her again, entering the back of the APC with barely contained anticipation.

  When his eyes locked with hers, he saw the familiar alarm in them.

  He wondered if she’d get used to him at some point, and no longer look like some trapped animal.

  He’d certainly take the time to find out.

  * * *

  Steven got angrier and angrier at himself as the days went by.

  No matter how many times he took Serena, he wanted more—couldn’t stop wanting more.

  He’d thought after days and days of making her his, of using her for his carnal and mental satisfaction, the power she had over him would fade, but every time he looked at her some time after fucking her, she looked untouchable again, despite her eyes having widened into dark pools of fear or surrender not long before.

  She was driving him crazy with whatever she was withholding—a new toy he couldn’t get used to since he still hadn’t figured out how it worked.

  He had even started thinking about her past with his best friend, trying to suppress rage over the thought of her being with him.

  He wished there was a way he could erase every man from her past, and for now, the only way he could think to do it, was to take her over and over again.

  “What are you doing to me?” he said as he spilled his seed yet again. He hadn’t bothered to take her advice about getting condoms. “Why can’t I get enough of you?”

  “Good,” she spat, almost snarling in satisfaction.

  “Good?” he replied as a warning before climbing on top of her again to begin the seduction process once more.

  Her vicious, triumphant look disappeared quickly.

  As her body started opening to him and she was once again begging him to take her, Steven realized his power was lost somewhere between leaving her body as he was about to explode, and ejaculating on the ground beside them. That he couldn’t release himself in her seemed to be the only power she had left, and she seemed to know it and relish it; she’d practically been smirking the last time he wasted his seed.

  He had to own her, take her faster, harder, more...

  “You didn’t pull out this time,” he heard her say
in a worried voice, sometime after his hearing returned and stars behind his eyes faded to black.

  “I don’t care,” he said, meaning it, then snacked on the new brand of fear emanating from her.

  * * *

  “Oh god—will you give me a break?” Serena said as he climbed on top of her again, just a few hours later.

  “Not until I own you. Completely. Not until I know you’re mine.”

  “But what do you want from me?” she cried, the quality of her voice making him pause and examine her face.

  To his horror, he noticed her beautiful face streaked with iridescent tears.

  His heart fell, and his sexual desire was trumped by the desire to stop those streams of despair, and mostly, stop that look of helplessness in her eyes.

  It was what he thought he had been gunning for, but the thought that she was hurting in some way, that she was despairing for any reason, was doing something to him, twisting his heart in a way he hadn’t felt in ages.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Stop torturing me, please...haven’t you had enough? What more do you want? What more can I give you?”

  “I want you to have my child,” he heard leave his mouth, yet almost didn’t recognize his own voice.

  Her face looked as shocked as he felt.

  “What?” she asked in a whisper, and he thought it was himself questioning himself for a moment.

  “That’s what I want,” he said, affirming it to himself.

  “It makes no sense,” she said in a wondrous tone, shaking her head.

  It made perfect sense, he thought. The way his body responded to her—it was completely biological, a need he hadn’t known he’d possessed, a secret desire that had only now made its way to the surface. Isn’t it what every man wanted? Was programmed to do? To replicate, procreate, duplicate?

  So many of their kind had died anyway, and so fast. If they survived, they’d probably be partially responsible for repopulating their country...

  “Have you completely lost your mind? Did we eat some shady mushrooms lately?”