Neon Chaos

by Karen Erickson

  Samantha woke on a gasp, sitting straight up, completely disoriented. The steady hum of the pickup truck’s engine reminded her where she was and she turned to see Russ driving with the same intent expression he’d had before she fell asleep.

  “Bad dream?”

  Nodding, she pushed the hair away from her face, noted that her skin was damp with perspiration. “It was awful.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Alien robots ready to experiment on me.” A shiver moved though her. That was all she wanted to say.

  “Sounds fucking terrible.”

  “You can say that again.” She tipped her head back against the edge of the seat and rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes. They felt gritty, her mouth tasted nasty and her entire body ached.

  She could only imagine how great Russ must feel.

  “You woke up just in time.” He turned left onto a gravel driveway. “We’re here.”

  The trepidation in his voice was there, just beneath the surface. She worried for him, a tremble moved through her as they pulled in front of the dark house, and he turned off the engine.

  They remained in the truck, the only sound their even breathing and the tick, tick, tick of the engine cooling. She chanced a glance at him, saw the grim expression on his face and she reached out, patted his shoulder in reassurance.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  He breathed deep and leaned over, popping open the glove compartment and pulling out a small flashlight. The man was impressively prepared for just about anything. “It’s now or never.”

  They climbed out of the truck and she followed Russ up the sidewalk that led to the front door. He tested the knob but it turned easily, the door swinging open with a slight creak. Within the house it was dark, it was dark everywhere and they walked inside, Russ calling softly for his parents.

  There was no answer.

  She trailed after him as he searched every room with the flashlight, his footsteps becoming quicker, heavier with each room that turned up empty and he finally stopped in the master bedroom, turning a slow circle. “No one’s here.”

  “No one is anywhere,” she murmured, her heart breaking for him. She wished she could offer him some sort of reassurance, but she didn’t know how. She’d already lost her friends. She had no idea where they were.

  But to face the possibility that her parents were gone forever? She couldn’t fathom it.

  “Where the hell could they be?” he roared, throwing the flashlight with all his might. It crashed against the wall before it dropped to the floor, denting the drywall, and she watched in horror as her personal hero crumpled to the ground and beat his fist upon it.

  Samantha ran to him, kneeling by his side and slipping her arm around his trembling shoulders. He was upset, he had every right to be and it scared the ever-living crap out of her.

  He’d been the strong one from the beginning. If he lost it now how would they ever make it? On her skills and gumption alone?

  Yeah, right.

  “They must be dead.” His voice was shredded, and he sniffed. “My parents must be dead. I don’t know where else they could be.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and brought him to her, his head resting against her chest. Smoothing a hand over his thick, dark hair, she offered soothing words, her eyes closing when she felt him shudder.

  It broke her heart to see him like this. His arms banded around her waist, and he held her tight, his face buried against her neck. She swore she felt the hot dampness of tears, but she would never ask him. Had a feeling he was a bit of a macho man who would never admit to such a thing.

  “What should we do, Russ?” She hated asking, but they needed some sort of plan.

  He lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. The discarded flashlight was still on, throwing a shaft of light across his face, and she saw all the despair there, all the weariness.

  “I don’t know,” he croaked, sounding good and truly lost. “What do you think?”

  She pushed his hair back with her fingers. “You’re tired. Maybe we should try and rest for a bit.”

  “They’ll find us.”

  “We’ll stay only for a little while. You need to sleep.”

  His eyes slid closed for the briefest moment, and he grabbed hold of her hand, bringing it to his mouth so he could press a gentle kiss to the back of it. A full body shiver moved through her at the contact and when his eyes opened, she leaned in, kissing him soundly on the lips.

  He looked like he really needed it.

  “I fucking hate this,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I don’t know either, but we can’t go on like this. We’re both running ragged. That’s why we should rest. Even for just an hour.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. Let’s stock up and hide in the detached garage in the back. Sleep for a while and then get the hell out of here.”

  “Stock up? I have food.” She shook her purse, which she’d brought in with her.

  “I’m not just talking food, sweetheart, though we should grab more, good idea. I’m talking about useful stuff.” He kissed her again, as if he needed the bit of physical contact to keep going. “I’m talking weapons. My father has a stockpile of them.”

  The sadness had slowly left him, replaced by a simmering, potent rage that bubbled just beneath the surface. His parents were fucking gone—hell the entire family had probably disappeared, and he could do nothing about it.

  Nothing.

  He’d cried, not like a blubbering baby but tears had slipped out and he’d struggled not to ball. Samantha had offered comfort, holding him close, not saying a bunch of stupid words to try and make him feel better because nothing would’ve made him feel better at that particular moment. Not even now.

  Nope, she hadn’t said anything at all, just offered him a shoulder to sniffle on. He appreciated her more than she could imagine.

  After gaining control over his emotions he forced himself to get over the sadness. He was pissed. He wanted to kick some ass.

  He wanted revenge.

  First though, he needed to remain calm and rational and gather supplies.

  Samantha filled a few grocery bags with food from the pantry while he went to his father’s den. The gun case was locked. Samantha had the flashlight so he kicked his booted foot through the glass door, smashing it to bits. The broken glass fell to the floor in a tinkling pile.

  His mother would’ve had a fit if she could see him.

  Reaching through the broken glass pane, he unlocked the door and it swung open. He grabbed two shotguns and two handguns, a set each for himself and for Samantha. They needed to be prepared for whatever might come at them. He had a sneaking suspicion it would be pretty damn bad.

  Russ hoped like hell she wasn’t scared of guns.

  Meeting her in the kitchen, Samantha had at least five grocery bags full of various food, both perishable and nonperishable, plus water and soda, paper towels, plastic silverware…the works.

  “You’ve done good,” he said with a nod of approval. He had to admit he was impressed. Grace under pressure and all those clichés, he gave Samantha a task, told her what to do and she never backed down. She probably would’ve made a good soldier.

  A damn sexy one too.

  “These are for you.” He set two of the guns on the counter, pushing the lighter shotgun and the tiny silver handgun toward her.

  Samantha gaped at the weapons for a long, silent moment before her gaze lifted to meet his. “What do you mean?”

  “We need to be prepared and, when I say prepared, I mean armed to the fucking teeth.” He watched her, his expression as serious as his tone. “We have no clue what’s going to happen next.”

  Carefully she reached out and touched the shotgun. “I shot a BB gun once but that’s it. I have no experience with guns. I’m a girly-girl, remember? I drink frou frou cocktails and run around in high heels that pinch my toes.”

  “A BB gun is clos
e enough,” he muttered. “And you can handle yourself when the going gets tough. I’m not worried.”

  She seemed pleased by his compliment. “You really think so?” She picked up the small handgun, turning it this way and that as she studied it.

  “Most definitely. And watch it. The gun’s loaded so be careful.”

  She set the gun down as quickly as she could, her fingers recoiling as if the shotgun was really a snake. “I don’t know about this. Guns make me nervous.”

  “We don’t have a choice, Sam. Those assholes are out there, and they’re making everyone disappear. Like go-up-in-smoke-and-never-existed disappear. It’s a trick I’ve certainly never seen before and I’ve seen a lot of shit over the years.” He paused, scraping his hand across his stubble-covered jaw. “And for whatever reason, they’re chasing after us and I have no clue why. Do you? Have you figured it out yet?”

  Her hands curled around the edge of the white tile kitchen counter. “No.”

  “Yeah, me either. There’s no other way around it. We need to be armed at all times.” Grabbing his handgun, he slipped it into the back of his jeans. “It’s a war out there, and we’re fighting an invisible, unknown enemy.”

  Lifting her chin, a determined expression crossed her pretty face. She grabbed hold of the handgun again, stared at it with wary caution before she copied his movements and slipped her gun beneath her waistband.

  “Be careful,” he warned with a little smile. “Don’t want to misfire, especially when it could damage that pretty little ass of yours.”

  Her eyes went wide. “That—really couldn’t happen could it?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head with a light chuckle. “The safety’s on. You should be fine.”

  “Should be? Should be? That’s all you can give me?” She tugged the gun from behind her and set it carefully in her purse, which rested on the kitchen counter. “I hate this.”

  He hated it too—and had already made that clear earlier—hated that she was involved more than anything. But there was nothing they could do to change their circumstances. They needed to make the best of it.

  “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

  Samantha followed him out to the detached garage his father had built only a few years ago. The door was unlocked and they walked right in, Russ spotting his parents’ old couch sitting in the far corner, covered with a bunch of empty plastic containers labeled “Christmas decorations”.

  Sadness pierced his heart. All of those decorations were inside, scattered everywhere. His mother loved Christmas. She made a big deal about the holiday every year. When he was a kid it had been awesome. As an adult he’d thought her behavior a little over the top.

  With the realization that she was gone, it tore him up that he’d never see her again. Never see her get excited over a newly decorated Christmas tree…

  He pushed the dismal thought from his brain, desperate to stay focused on his anger. And his fear. The combination amped him up, sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was ready to fight these motherfuckers the minute they showed up.

  Samantha headed toward the couch, removing the containers and setting them on the floor before she collapsed onto it with a weary sigh. He may be ready to fight, but she wasn’t. She was exhausted.

  And he had to admit, so was he.

  He went to the workbench where he spotted three gas cans nearby on the floor. His father had kept them on hand for his quad, his lawnmower and whatever else that needed fuel. Walking over to where they sat, he picked each one up by its handle. Luck was on his side.

  They were full.

  “I’m taking these out to the truck.” He held a gas can up for her to see. They’d be good to have on hand. Most gas pumps wouldn’t work without power.

  “Okay,” she answered with a yawn and a little wave.

  Walking out into the dark quiet night, he stood stock still, looking, listening for any sign of life.

  There was none. He didn’t hear any of the normal sounds, just complete and utter silence.

  It was damned disconcerting.

  His movements quick, he set the gas cans in the back of the truck, then slammed the tailgate into place. The loud boom in the total quiet caused an echo that rippled through the night air and sent a shiver down his spine.

  Chicken shit.

  Wiping a hand over his face, he shook his head. He wanted to get inside and be with Samantha. He needed her more than he cared to admit. She wasn’t a hindrance—he was glad he had her with him. Without her, he wouldn’t know what to do.

  For a man who always considered himself a lone-wolf type, the realization was startling.

  Hurrying back inside, he went to the couch to find Samantha curled into a little ball in the corner, completely zonked out. Shaking his head, he settled in next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her near.

  She scooted closer to him, resting her head against his chest with a little sigh. He stretched out on the couch, Samantha snuggled against him, and his cheek on top of her head. Her hair tickled his nose and he batted it away, breathing deep as exhaustion settled over him.

  They could sleep, but only for a little while. An hour…two hours, tops. Once they woke they needed to get the hell out of here.

  To where… He had no fucking clue.

  Chapter Five

  Samantha roused slowly, lids heavy, entire body numb with exhaustion. Stretching, she found her face smashed against a solid wall of muscle, strong arms wrapped around her, one extremely large hand splayed upon her left breast.

  Her nipple tingled and hardened at the seemingly innocent touch.

  Subtly arching into his hand, his fingers tightened and his thumb brushed across her nipple in a languid caress. Biting her lip, she nuzzled her face against his chest and slid her hand beneath the layers of his sweatshirt and shirt, touching bare, hot skin.

  Russ smoothed his other hand down her side and over her ass, cupping her there, hauling her closer. He was awake and God help them, they didn’t have time for this sort of shenanigans, but she was so painfully aroused.

  And only Russ could ease the ache within her.

  “You awake, sweetheart?” His deep, rumbling voice sent a spark of pure desire shooting through her body, and she nodded. She didn’t want to speak.

  Afraid once she opened her mouth, she might beg him to give her what she wanted. Just this one moment together, skin on skin, so she could lose herself if only for a few minutes before they faced their ugly reality once again.

  He flipped so he lay on his back, her sprawled across him. He tugged off her sweatshirt and shirt all at once, tossing them over his shoulder before he attacked the clasp of her bra. His fingers trembled against her flesh as he slipped the garment off, and she found comfort in the tiny sign of emotion.

  It appeared he was just as overcome as she was.

  “You feel good,” he whispered, trailing his hands across her stomach before they wandered up and he filled his palms with her breasts. She sighed as he stroked her, his thumbs playing with her nipples, pinching them between his thumb and index finger until she gasped.

  “So do you.” She bent over him, dropping a kiss on his forehead, his cheek, his bristly chin. He angled his head, their mouths meeting and she sunk into his kiss. She parted her lips, letting him in and he swept his tongue into her mouth with a sensuous efficiency that sent gooseflesh cascading over her skin.

  Samantha shoved his clothing up to his neck and attacked his pecs, licking and kissing a path down his stomach, nimbly undoing the snap on his jeans. She worked herself into a fever pitch, her skin overheated, her nipples so hard they hurt, and her sex throbbed to feel him pound inside her.

  Russ seemed just as caught up as she was. He shucked his sweatshirt before he shoved his jeans and underwear down in one push and she helped drag them off, tossing them onto the floor. She kissed the inside of first one thigh, then the other before she finally wrapped her fingers around the prize.

  He j
erked beneath her touch and she licked him, earning a ragged groan from him. “God, Sam.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging and pulling tight as she continued her oral assault on him. He tasted good, salty and masculine and she wanted to give something to him. A few minutes of pleasure to help him forget.

  His body tensed, his breathing grew labored and she knew he was close.

  “I wanna come inside you,” he rasped, his hands clasping about her shoulders and trying to haul her up.

  Quickly she shed her jeans and panties, now as naked as he was. Crawling up his big, hard body, she straddled his stomach, his erection brushing against her backside as she bent over him and kissed him long and deep. His sure fingers found her sweet spot, and he teased her, making her groan at the pleasure of it.

  Rising up, she grasped the base of his cock and slid down. He stilled, his eyes open wide and beseeching as he watched her.

  “No condom?”

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Did it? It didn’t feel like it should.

  Not wanting to say it out loud, she really didn’t think there was any hope for them.

  He didn’t argue and he didn’t ask why, either of which was just as well. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he guided her, showed her the rhythm he preferred and she rode him.

  “Baby, you know exactly what you’re doing,” he said with a lazy smile just before his eyes slid closed.

  She didn’t answer, merely watched him as they moved together. He was so gorgeous, so strong and those big, capable hands held her firm and steady. A wave of sadness suddenly threatened to wash over her.

  Why couldn’t she have met him months ago, years ago? Why did it have to be now, when their entire world was crumbling apart, when it felt like they were the only ones left? Being chased by aliens, for the love of God, or whatever the hell they were.

  Why, why, why, she wanted to ask. Shake her fist and demand answers that she knew didn’t exist.

  But she didn’t know who to ask. Didn’t know who was responsible.

  “Hey.” His eyes flew open, as if he sensed her sadness and he reached for her face, cupping her cheek with his palm. “Come here.”