Once Bitten, Twice Dead

by Bianca D’Arc

  “Oh, Xavier. Yeah, just like that,” she whispered encouragement as he slid into her and started pumping in long, hot strokes.

  Before long, his thrusts quickened and deepened. He grabbed her hips, drawing her into each one of his motions as she sighed her pleasure against the strong column of his neck. The man was one in a million. A law unto himself. He could bring her pleasure so extreme, she wasn’t always sure she’d be able to live through it.

  This was one of those urgent, intense times that seemed to be typical for them. Maybe in a few hundred years they’d be able to take it slow again, but not now. Not when she needed him so desperately. Like he evidently needed her.

  He pulsed into her in shorter, faster digs as she tried hard to bite back the keening cry that wanted to rip from her throat. His hands pressed her into his thrusts. She might have bruises on her ass tomorrow from his grasping fingers, but it’d be worth every last little black and blue.

  She let loose with a high-pitched groan as she came. It was a compromise between the scream she ruthlessly tamped down and the growl of pure animal delight at the way he took her. It seemed to spur him on. Xavier came with a gasping groan that echoed in her ears, a complement to the sound she’d made, only much deeper.

  As he was much deeper. So deep inside her she didn’t quite know where she left off and he began. She felt the warmth of his come and gasped as the new sensations heightened her pleasure.

  “Mon Dieu.” Xavier’s breathing went from ragged to under control a little faster than hers as he continued to stand between her thighs, his spent cock still held tight within her quaking body. “Baby, you’re going to be the death of me.” His eyes twinkled as she met his gaze.

  A sudden, harsh movement behind Xavier caught her attention.

  She tried to scream, but nothing made it past her paralyzed vocal cords before the butt end of a revolver smashed into Xavier’s temple from behind. He crumpled to the ground, pulling her off the counter as she scrambled to hold him upright. The floaty skirt of her short nightgown fluttered over her thighs as she stood, allowing her some modesty at least. She did her best to ignore the rivulets of come dripping down her inner thigh as she faced the threat in her kitchen.

  “Leave him!” Sellars barked the order, waving his weapon in her direction. “You’re coming with me, Sarah. We’re going to take a little walk.”

  Weighing her options, she realized she had none. She was the next thing to naked, and unarmed. Sellars kept a close watch on her movements. Anything she could have used for a weapon was well out of her reach.

  “Stop dithering, woman! Out the back door. Do as I say.”

  Sarah saw no alternative at the moment. She prayed silently that Xavier would wake up in time to help her. Or maybe outside she would find some opportunity to help herself. She’d been doing some gardening last week. Maybe she’d left a rake or shovel near enough to grab. She headed for the back door as slowly as she could. She had to buy time for Xavier to come around.

  “Why are you doing this? You got the samples of my blood. You don’t need me anymore.”

  “Au contraire, Sarah.” Sellars stuck the barrel of the gun into her ribs, prodding her down the steps and into her backyard. “You’re the prize sow I plan to show off to my buyers. The guinea pig they can cut and watch heal over and over again. You’re the proof in the pudding. I wasn’t about to leave you behind.”

  Great. The plans Sellars had for her were even more disturbing than she’d imagined. She didn’t like this at all. Casting her eyes around furtively, she cursed herself for putting away all the gardening equipment. There wasn’t even a stray spade she could grab to try to defend herself.

  Her property backed up to a small strip of pine trees, and the shape of the cul-de-sac she lived on prevented her neighbors from seeing into her backyard. When she’d bought the house, she’d thought it was a good feature. She valued her privacy. But right now, she’d kill for a nosy neighbor.

  A fine mist hung in the air and crept along the ground. The unusual fog had been around the past several nights, giving every bush and tree branch a creepy aspect. Something moved in the woods ahead of her and she paused midstep. Had Sellars brought along more of his undead friends?

  “Move, bitch.” Sellars prodded her again with the gun barrel and she dragged her fuzzy pink slippers off the concrete stairs and into the grass.

  She shivered as the damp wisps of white drifted over her bare legs and under the high hem of her nightgown. She really wasn’t dressed for this, but then, what did one wear to an abduction at gunpoint, anyway? She stifled a laugh that was just this side of hysteria as Sellars walked her toward the small strip of woods at the rear of her property.

  Across that small expanse of gloomy pine trees there was a road. It was a back road, and Sellars no doubt had a car stashed there, ready to take her wherever he wanted. The bastard.

  “You should let me go, you know. I’m really more trouble than I’m worth,” she said, trying some psychology on him in a vain attempt at distracting him.

  “You really are, but then, I plan to kill you when your usefulness is over. Don’t wish your life away so easily, Officer Petit.”

  “Xavier will come after you. He won’t rest until you’re stopped.”

  “He can try, but we’ll be long gone before he wakes up.”

  That’s what he thought. Sellars was missing one vital piece of information. Xavier was immune. He healed fast. Maybe fast enough to regain consciousness from a whack to the head and be coherent enough to do something about it.

  The fog thickened as she entered the dark space beneath the pines bordering her backyard. Sudden motion off to her right. She ducked out of the way as a clawed hand came slashing through the darkness. It hit Sellars’s gun, sending it skittering away into the underbrush. Sarah crouched, taking stock of the situation. The zombie wasn’t after her. It seemed to have turned on Sellars and was stalking him as he tried to bring the creature under control.

  “I command you to stop! I am your master!” Sellars was shouting, but the creature kept advancing on him. It lashed out with its claws, catching Sellars under the chin. He went down hard, hitting the loamy ground with a hard thud.

  The zombie was on him in seconds, using its teeth to grab on to anything it could. Blood welled as Sellars screamed. Sarah watched in horror as the zombie turned on its creator, savaging him.

  As the zombie sank his blood-stained teeth into Sellars’s shoulder, she scrambled to get away, but the loamy earth wasn’t stable, given the soles of her slippers. She was deathly afraid that once the zombie was through with Sellars, he would turn on her, and she had precious little protection. No darts, no bullets, not even a knife. Perhaps worst of all, no clothes to speak of, and not even a decent pair of shoes on her feet. What she wouldn’t give for a good pair of boots right now. If that zombie felt like taking a bite out of her, there was little she could do to prevent it. She couldn’t even run very fast in the slippers, and ditching them could be hazardous considering the sharp bits of debris strewn across the uneven ground. If she stabbed herself in the foot with a tree branch, she wouldn’t be able to outmaneuver the undead bastard at all.

  Sellars’s screams died to whimpers, but he still managed to evade the zombie’s teeth when they aimed for his nose, ears and other bits of his face. So far, the damage was to his torso only. A small blessing, though he was just as likely to die. The contagion worked fast. It didn’t care what route it took into the human body. Once there, it did its deadly work silently and efficiently, taking over the host and turning its body into something out of a nightmare.

  Sellars was down for the count. He still fought, but the zombie had clearly won. It left him and turned its attention on Sarah. She’d gotten to her feet and managed to move several yards away, toward the edge of the trees bordering her backyard. She kept her eye on the creature. The last thing she wanted was for it to sneak up on her. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. She’d learned her lesson fro
m previous encounters.

  The creature advanced as she inched backward, her feet slipping on the thick layer of loose pine needles and other leafy debris made slick by the dewy fog that lay over the ground like a blanket. If she could just get to the grass. Out from under the trees, the grass in her backyard enabled reasonably sure footing, even in slippers. She edged back. She didn’t dare take her eyes from the creature. He was moving steadily now, faster than any zombie she’d seen to date.

  His eyes looked almost menacing. He was just as dead as all the others she’d faced, but this one seemed more aware somehow. His eyes held a spark of anger, a glimmer of rage. At the moment, it was directed at her, and she felt a tingle of fear race down her spine.

  “Look, buddy,” she said, trying to reason with the creature. “I didn’t do anything to you. No harm, no foul. You go your way, I go mine. All right?”

  “Kill…”

  Carried on the misty night wind, that one word drew out for several heartbeats, scaring the life out of her. The zombie had spoken and it didn’t sound good. Its voice was a gravely rasp, a low, pulsing rumble of sound.

  “Not me.” Her voice, by contrast, was almost a squeak. The pitch went higher as her fear grew and her throat tightened. “You don’t want to kill me. I taste bad. I can’t ever become like you. They tried. It didn’t take. So you’re wasting your time.”

  Still the creature advanced.

  “Kill…” it repeated.

  And she would have peed her pants if she’d been wearing any. She was that scared. Its next utterance only deepened the terror.

  “Eat…”

  “Oh, God.” Holding on to her wits, Sarah didn’t give way to panic. Instead, she nearly cried with relief as her feet finally came in contact with her neatly mown grass. She was out of the woods.

  She took her attention off the creature for just a second to gauge her distance to the small shed where she kept her garden tools. Too far, but she had to try for it. She had sharp things in there. Sharp things on sticks. It was better than nothing.

  She looked back, and though she’d kept moving, the zombie had gained on her. It was making those inhuman moaning sounds now. She didn’t think she could be any more afraid, but when it started wailing in that low, animal-like, pain-filled sound, she learned different.

  Making a break for it, she ran as fast as she could for the shed. She ditched her slippers. There was little in her manicured lawn to hurt her and even with the fog-slicked grass, she could make better time barefoot here than in the flimsy slippers. They’d only trip her up.

  She reached the little shed and yanked it open. There was a pitchfork and a heavy, old-fashioned, iron rake. The pitchfork was more deadly, but the rake was at least two feet longer. Since the tines of the pitchfork couldn’t kill what was already dead, she went for the rake. It would keep her a little farther away from the creature if she had to engage it mano a mano.

  She whirled to find the zombie had gained on her again. Quickly, she left the area of the shed. She didn’t want to get pinned down against one of its sides. She’d briefly debated the idea of hiding inside, but the old shed wouldn’t stand a chance against the creature’s strength.

  She faced the thing, her back to the false safety of her house, a heavy rake her only weapon. She kept backing up as the creature advanced. If she could get to the house, maybe she could get to a weapon. Preferably one loaded with toxic darts. It would be hard to do, but she had to try.

  She waved the rake at the zombie, but it didn’t slow. In fact, it seemed to speed up, moving in much closer than before.

  “Kill…” it repeated like an undead mantra.

  The almost subvocalization was creeping the hell out of her.

  It came closer. She swung the rake, knocking it back a step. The next time she hit it—on the side of the head—it stood its ground and moved closer still. She wanted to run, but she was too close to the house now. She couldn’t take her eyes off the monster. The back steps were near. Too near.

  As the zombie advanced to within three feet, her foot hit the back step awkwardly. She went down hard, her ass hitting the steps as her feet went out from under her. She was trapped between the handrails that framed the stairs, the zombie crouching over her.

  And then a dart lodged in his ruined face. Another bloomed in his shoulder and abdomen in quick succession. A fourth hit his right thigh and a fifth landed in his left leg for good measure.

  Sarah crab-walked backward as fast as she could up the steps, out of range—but only just barely. Strong hands reached under her armpits to lift her to her feet.

  “Xavier! Thank God!”

  She wanted to turn and cling to him, but the zombie was still coming. They both knew from bitter experience it would take a minute or two for the toxin to take hold and during that time the creature could still do a hell of a lot of damage.

  The steps led down from a tiny porch with a long safety rail. Xavier lifted her over the rail and let go as she jumped the few feet down into a small flowerbed. She saw the zombie hesitate before it backed down the steps and came after her. Xavier followed close on its heels. The object now was to stay away from the zombie long enough for the toxin to do its job.

  “Stay in the open, Sarah. Don’t let it box you in.”

  “Why does this thing want me so bad?” She was thinking out loud. The zombie hadn’t gone after Xavier. It seemed to want her.

  “Mas-ter say…” the zombie said, almost as if answering her question.

  The very idea freaked her out. The creature could talk—nothing too grand, mind you—but it could say a few words. And now, apparently, it could answer questions as well.

  Xavier picked up on it, too. He moved closer.

  “What did master say?” he demanded.

  The zombie turned to look at him, and she noted again the difference in this one’s eyes. It seemed more aware than the previous ones.

  “What did master say?” Xavier shouted again when the creature didn’t answer right away.

  Then the zombie smiled. “Kill…”

  That was its last word. A second later, the creature dissolved into a pile of goo and old clothes, right there in her backyard. Sarah’s weak knees almost gave out on her, but there was still one thing left unattended.

  “Where’s Sellars?” Xavier asked. They were both thinking on the same wavelength.

  “In the trees. The zombie got him pretty bad.”

  Xavier followed where she led. She made a slight detour in her yard to retrieve her slippers, now thoroughly saturated from the fog and her movement through the grass and trees. They had a sole, though, that’s what counted. It might be flimsy plastic, but it was better than her tender skin against the rough ground under the trees.

  She saw that Xavier had his utility belt on. He wasn’t wearing much else, but at least he’d taken the time to get his weapons and tools before he’d rushed to her rescue. That belt also held the serum.

  “Are you going to try to save him?” she asked as she picked her way through the trees to where she’d left Sellars.

  “Yeah. I have to try. We need to know who he was working with on this.” He opened the case where the serum lay and took out what he’d need as he walked. “It might not work, but we have to give it a shot.”

  She understood, though she would’ve just as happily seen Sellars die. She wasn’t bloodthirsty as a general rule, but this particular scumbag had caused all kinds of mayhem. He’d caused the deaths of so many innocent people. He’d terrorized her personally and changed her life for all time. The slime. He didn’t deserve to live. But she understood why Xavier had to try to save him.

  They found him cowering not far from where the zombie had left him. He was hurt badly.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What are you doing? I’m as good as dead already.” Sellars’s eyes widened in fear and he reared back as Xavier knelt next to him.

  “Maybe not.” Xavier measured the dose expertly before he positioned the long
needle and stuck Sellars through the chest, straight into his heart. Xavier depressed the plunger as Sellars screamed.

  “Don’t torture me. It’s over,” Sellars whined as Xavier pulled out the needle.

  “There’s a slim chance this stuff will save your life. One of your colleagues came up with it, but it only works if you have the right antigens in your blood already.”

  “McCormick! I knew that bitch was holding out on me. I thought she was playing hard to get.”

  “Impossible for you to get,” Sarah muttered, her weapon trained on Sellars.

  “It might not work.” Xavier sat back and looked at Sellars. “If you have anything to say, now’s your chance. You very well might not get another.”

  Sellars glared silently, clutching his extensive wounds. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he went through a series of convulsions. When they ended, he leaned to the side and vomited into the grass. He didn’t look the way Sam had. Sellars wasn’t reacting as well to the antidote as Sam had. It wasn’t going to work for him.

  “Looks like you struck out, Sellars. The antidote isn’t working,” Xavier observed coolly. “It was a long shot from the beginning, but we had to try. So why did you do it? Why would you try to sell this kind of technology? Why would you even continue to pursue it?”

  “Why else? For the money. You’re a fool.” Sellars spit on the ground and glared. “This isn’t over. There’s more—” He broke off as his body went into another round of convulsions, these much worse than the first. Judging by the way Sam had gotten better with each episode, Sellars’s body was definitely rejecting the serum.

  “More?” Xavier pushed him. They had one chance to get information out of Sellars. If he was going to talk, it had to be now.

  “More of us,” he eeked out, panting when he finally stopped seizing. “More working on this than you realize. They may have killed me but others will fill the void. Not as well, of course, but they’ll try. And they’ll succeed. And then you’ll all die.”