"What?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Where did that thought come from?"
"I honestly don’t know. Maybe it’s heatstroke?" I shrugged and shot a sideways look at him. "Are you going to push me over so you can sneak a look up my skirt now?"
"Why, of course not." Michael feigned offense at the very suggestion, then his eyes narrowed, and a wickedly flirtatious grin danced across his lips. "If I wanted to get a look up your skirt, I’d just ask politely… and maybe kiss you on that spot on your neck that makes you go all gooey."
He had a point. When he kissed me there, I was putty in his hands.
I was about to say something cheeky back when he interrupted, his tone gone from one of playful flirtation to one of pure excitement. "Hey, hey look!"
Ahead of us, the details of a tiny township were beginning to emerge from the heat mirage. I sat up straight and scanned through the haze until I spotted familiar landmarks.
"Yes, this is it." It was hard to contain my excitement as I confirmed his suspicions, and then I fished my radio off my belt to inform the others about the good news. "Attention all passengers, please be advised we will be reaching our destination in a few minutes. Please ensure your seatbelt is fastened, and your tray table is in a secure, upright position."
A chorus of cheers echoed from the others. No one was any happier about travelling in the heat than I was.
I dropped the radio in my lap, and flopped back in my seat with a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness that’s over."
Chapter Twenty-One
We toured slowly through the town of Ohaupo. Michael followed my directions as I pointed the way through the township, until at last we eased to a halt in front of my familiar old video store.
"I’ve claimed that flat up above the store." I pointed it out to Michael proudly. He looked, and then gave me an odd sideways glance. I laughed at his expression. "It’s nicer than it looks, I swear."
"Hrm. I don’t know, Sandy." He looked worried, and I knew that feeling well – it was the feeling of being exposed and vulnerable. "Everything seems so… open. It doesn’t feel very secure."
"We can’t live in a bunker forever, honey. We’ll turn into mushrooms." I gave him an impish grin, and leaned over to reassuringly rub his thigh. "Don’t worry, there are ways to make this place secure, too. I’ve explored pretty much the entire town and only found one infected, plus I know exactly where we can stay."
"Only one infected?" His brow furrowed. "Surely there must have been more people living here than that."
"Yeah, about that – don’t go into that function building we passed."
"Oh." He paused for a long moment to think that over, and then looked at me again. "Group suicide?"
I nodded, and he grimaced.
"As loathe as I am to destroy perfectly good shelter, we may want to consider burning the whole building down." I glanced back over my shoulder and struggled to suppress the chill that rolled down my spine. "There are a lot of bodies in there. A lot."
He just nodded and looked grim as he put the Hilux into park and killed the engine. We climbed out and went back to check on the others. One by one, they disembarked and stood around, smelling the air. A cool breeze blew, and it smelt fresh and clean after the cloying stink of decay that hung over Hamilton.
"Where do we go?" Skylar asked, absently plucking her sticky t-shirt away from her neck. Even in the shade, it was humid.
"Well, I was staying above the video store, but it backs onto a small motel." I looked back and forth between them. "There’s a half-dozen rooms upstairs that are clean, dry, and zombie-free. You have to go through a staircase in the lobby to get to them, so you’ve got a natural choke point to defend."
"Sounds good." Michael nodded for me to take point. "Let’s go take a look."
We gave everyone a moment to lock up their respective vehicles, and then I led the way. Madeline, fresh from a nap in the car, skipped ahead of us singing happily to herself, despite our best efforts to keep her from running off. The rest of us moved as a group, weapons relaxed but ready in case they were needed.
We picked our way across the cracked pavement past my store, and took the side road to the left. The entrance to the motel was an old glass door that was webbed with cracks, yet still solid. The hinges protested as I shoved it open and led the way into the dusty darkness.
The lobby was nothing to write home about, just an open space no bigger than the average living room. It was decorated with a faded reception desk and a couple of overstuffed couches off to one side. On one side of the desk, an archway led out to an overgrown courtyard. On the other side, stairs led up into brilliant sunshine. Magazines ten years out of date decomposed on the coffee table.
"We should be able to bolt this from the inside, but it’ll take a little lubricant on the hinges." I gestured to the front door, then led the way further inside.
A bunch of keys sat on the front desk, exactly where I’d left them two weeks before. I picked them up and headed upstairs. The staircase let out onto an open-air landing; the motel was like an old Roman villa, built in a square with a courtyard in the centre. Half a dozen doors flanked the upper landing, each with a number on it that had once meant something to someone.
I’d gone through them all in my initial exploration and at the time I mentally catalogued their contents. Now, I used that knowledge to point out the ones that were immediately liveable to the others, separating them from the rooms that would need work to become habitable.
Each room was a self-contained unit, with a bathroom and basic kitchen functionality, while there was a larger kitchen on the bottom level that had once served as a small restaurant. Much like the rest of the building, the downstairs kitchen was filthy and it would take all our combined efforts to get it in functioning order again.
Still, after they had looked around for a while, the others agreed that this old motel would work well as our new home.
***
The next few days were spent hard at work, turning our little motel into a fortress. We scavenged enough boards from the other buildings nearby to cover up all the downstairs windows and the fire exit at the rear, to leave the front door as the only way in or out of the complex. As I predicted, with a little maintenance the front door closed and locked easily, and we slept soundly at night.
Each of the others chose their own rooms. Ryan and Skylar claimed the honeymoon suite, amidst exclamations of delight at the sheer size of the bed, and the bright morning sunshine that the room got. The doctor took a two-bedroom suite on the opposite side of the building, so that Madeline could have her own room. He was thrilled by the idea of being able to close off her mess when he didn’t want to look at it anymore, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.
Michael, on the other hand, chose a small room right on the corner of the building that was once the owner’s personal office. The sole reason for his choice was that the room had a window less than two meters from the upper floor of the video store where I preferred to stay. His window lined up almost exactly with the one on the tiny landing of my loft, close enough that we could almost touch if we leaned out.
Between the two of us, we constructed a walkway between the two buildings. It was really just a couple of planks for a floor and ropes for handrails, but it was strong enough to support our weight when we wanted to duck back and forth to visit one another. Which we did, often.
Michael swiftly came to appreciate my affection for the little loft, particularly the soft double bed. After the narrow, rock-hard cots that we had been sleeping on in the bunker, the beds here felt like sleeping on a cloud.
On the third morning after our arrival, I awoke to the sound of birds chirping and Michael snoring contentedly beside me. I rolled over and looked at him, and found him sprawled on his back with his arms and legs flung in all directions. He looked so peaceful that I couldn’t bear to wake him.
I rose and slid out of bed, careful not to disturb the blankets draped over him. Stretching languidly, I moved
out to the living area to open the curtains, and let the bright morning sun wash over my naked body. It felt so good to be able to walk around freely without the fear of running into a curious seven-year-old. I liked kids, but sometimes it was nice to be able to be an adult without little eyes peeping in.
Feeling relaxed and refreshed, I wandered contentedly around my living space, opening the windows one by one to let in the morning breeze. True to his word, Michael had been using his time alone with me very well. Although I still couldn’t quite conquer my fears completely, we’d learned so much about our own limits through experimentation and play. Every day, he was helping me to hate myself a bit less.
I sighed and looked down at myself, considering the curve of my breasts, my stomach and legs. It had been years since I’d had proper female curves. With a healthy, regular diet and exercise, my body was gradually leaving starvation mode. I was starting to feel healthy and fit again, and it felt good. I had breasts again. That fact made me happy, and made Michael even happier. I didn’t even realise how much I’d missed having a proper bust line until there was someone in my life that I wanted to share it with.
My foot had been healing cleanly, and last night the doctor had finally announced that I no longer needed to keep the bandages on. It still ached, and it was pink and tender, but the stitches were out and I was more or less functional again. I stretched the foot out in front me like a silly, naked ballerina, to examine the scar. It wasn’t pretty, but my foot was working again and that was all that mattered to me.
Full of energy after a good night’s sleep, I danced back through the bedroom to the en suite, and flicked on the shower. It had taken some doing, but with time, determination and lots of bad language, I’d managed to get the hot water cylinder working again. Skye insisted I do hers as well, so once I knew the trick to it I ended up fixing everyone’s.
I didn’t mind at all. The work kept my mind active and my days busy, and Michael kept my nights… interesting, and exciting. My lips quirked into a smile as I slipped beneath the hot water and let it cascade over my face and down my body like a hot caress. I closed my eyes and ran my hands back through my hair, enjoying the feel of hot water cleansing me.
All of a sudden, there were sneaking fingers blocking the falling water as hands crept around from behind to cup my breasts. I opened my eyes and looked back over my shoulder, to find my lover grinning impishly back at me.
My lover, I thought possessively, and spun beneath the water to face him. Driven by the heat of the water and my own surging emotions, I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him down into a kiss.
Mine, mine, mine.
Though I supposed if you wanted to be technical, we weren’t lovers yet. Over the last few days, we’d done everything but the final act of consummation. Little by little, he was coaxing out my inner harlot, that saucy young thing I had been in my youth before harsh reality tore it away.
And yet, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t quite bring myself to take that final step.
God, how much I wanted to, though. I longed for it, I thought about it constantly and even dreamed about it, but every time I tried to gather the courage, the spectres lunged out of their hiding place and chased me back. Michael had been so patient with me, and he never tried to put any pressure on me to do anything I was uncomfortable with. Over the time we’d spent together, my trust in him was growing, to the point where I could feel it turning into something deeper.
It scared me a little bit, but at the same time it was exciting and new. If there was one thing in this world that I knew for sure, it was that I wanted to be with him one day, when the time was right and we were both ready. In the meantime, he was helping me to repair the damage that bad men had done to me over the years.
His hand caught the small of my back, and drew my belly up hard against his as he kissed me deeply. The heat of the water had always been something that made my desires stir – and now I had the fantasy man to go along with the steamy shower. I wanted to have him so badly, to be pinned to the wall and ravished in that hot, hot shower, and yet… I couldn’t. Not yet.
Soon? A part of me begged, writhing in unsatisfied torment.
Soon! The rational part of me demanded, hating so much being the victim.
But the part of me that was the victim wasn’t so sure just yet. It didn’t know what it wanted, and it was so afraid.
***
Half an hour later, the hot water finally ran out. Exhausted, flushed and not nearly as clean as we probably should have been, we finally managed to pry our hands off one another long enough to get dressed.
Everyone else had already figured out what was going on between us by now. There were no secrets in a community this small. Still, there was an unspoken agreement between Michael and me, that we would keep our business as private as possible. It was driving Skylar crazy.
After ten years of only having one person with her, someone whose business she already knew intimately, she was gossip-starved and desperate to talk about something new. Still, sisters or not, I liked having something that was mine and mine alone. Michael seemed to be a private person by nature, and I respected that. Neither of us were willing to indulge Skye’s need for gossip just yet.
When Michael and I finally made our way into the communal kitchen to join the others for breakfast, hand in hand, Skylar gave us a knowing look but didn’t say a word. As we settled down at the breakfast table, she sauntered over to give us both the hairy eyeball.
"I’m making omelettes. You two okay with that?"
"Oh, you found the chickens?" I grinned at the thought of savoury, nutritious food, and she smiled back at me.
"Yup. I found a vegetable garden, too, so I’ve got tomatoes and parsley as well." She looked so proud of herself. "I hope no one’s allergic?"
We all shook our heads and she grinned brightly, then waddled back to her stove to get cooking.
"Shame we don’t have some toast and Marmite to go with it," I reminisced dreamily.
"And don’t forget the bacon." Michael’s comment was laced with dry humour; we all laughed.
"So, we were talking earlier," Ryan piped up as the levity faded. "We’ve got this jungle happening in the central courtyard right now, but if we cleared out all the weeds and bushes, then we could plant our own vegetable garden in there."
Skye added her input to the conversation, as she cracked eggs into a huge bowl. "That way even if something happens and we have to lock this place down, we’ll still have a secure source of fresh food."
"That’s a good idea." Michael nodded slowly, then looked at me for my thoughts.
"Yeah." I glancing thoughtfully around at the ring of faces. "We could transfer some of the adult plants from the gardens outside. I think I saw some hydroponics equipment out at one of the farms, too."
"We could clear out one of the downstairs rooms." Ryan was sounding excited now. "If we bring back that equipment, we can grow all kinds of things."
I looked around at the faces that had become so familiar to me in such a short period of time, and felt an unexpected surge of affection towards them all. Then I noticed a strange little smile on Dr Cross’ face, and shot him a curious look. "What are you grinning at, Doc?"
"Oh, nothing." He chuckled softly. "I was just thinking that you young folks sound as excited as my late wife when she first saw the big gardens behind our first house. She loved to garden." The doctor sighed softly, and absently raised a hand to stroke Madeline’s hair. Maddy, of course, was off in her own little world, playing with her dolls, and didn’t even seem to notice.
"Oh, good." I grinned right back at him. "Hopefully you can tell us how to not kill things, then. I’m pretty sure no one in this room has ever planted a vegetable garden before."
Embarrassed chuckles from the others around the room answered that question – apparently, my guess was bang on the money.
"Ah, I see." The doctor shoved his glasses up his nose, but for once the smile lingered on his fac
e. It was nice to see him happy for a change. "I’ve been volunteered as the king of the vegetable patch. I shall try my best to teach you youngsters what you need to know."
"After breakfast." Ryan grinned, and everyone else agreed. Skylar’s savoury concoction was just about done, and to our deprived noses it smelled like the most delicious thing ever made in the entire history of the world.
We waited impatiently while she finished cooking, our grumbling bellies whining in protest about how long it took to cook. Once it was served, the food was devoured with delighted gusto; more than one of us suffered a burnt tongue in our haste, but it was well worth it. I couldn’t remember a breakfast I’d enjoyed more.
"You’re getting good at this, Skye," I told her after I finished my last bite, while settling back in my chair to digest. "I think you’ve inherited Mum’s culinary skills."
"Thanks." She beamed, glowing from the praise. "I’m really enjoying it, actually. Cooking, I mean. I found some cook books while I was exploring the other day, and looking through the pictures has got me feeling so inspired."
I smiled at her enthusiasm and nodded. "Well, if we can find the ingredients, I’m sure no one will mind if you experimented a bit and tried out some of the recipes."
A chorus of grunts came from the menfolk that we both took to be agreement.
"I’d love to, but there are so many words in there that I don’t know." Skylar sighed heavily. "I’ll have to get someone to help me read the recipes."
I stared at her, but it took a second for what she’d just said to actually sink in. When it did, my eyes widened in surprise. "You can’t read?"
"I can, sort of." She looked taken aback by the accusation, and a little offended. "But not very well. I was eight, Sandy. Eight! I only got to go to school for a few years, so I didn’t get to learn much. I haven’t had very much practice since then so I’m just not a good reader."
Her tone stung; it was so full of bitterness, something I hadn’t heard from her before.
The Survivors (Book 1): Summer Page 24
