“There was nothing you could have done,” Hunter remarked gently. “It was already too late for them. Our focus needs to be on those we can still save. We'll strike the school just after dawn. They're the ones you need to focus on. Those are the people you can save.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Lee and Carter sat quietly in chairs strategically placed by the locked out elevator. Rafael stood near the driveway side doors and watched the zombies paw at the glass while trying to get to him. There were now a few dozen zombies at both the beachside and driveway side doors. The next zombie was more gruesome in appearance then the last.
“I wish you wouldn't stand so close to the glass,” Carter remarked from across the lobby. “They're just dying to sink their teeth into you.”
“Nah, they don't want me, dude,” Rafael informed him without bothering to look back. “Too grisly. They want, like, a lean jogger or a tender, young swimmer.” He suddenly appeared surprised by something outside. “Oh, look, a live one!”
Carter and Lee sprang to their feet.
Rafael suddenly frowned. “Oh, dude, they got him. Poor bastard.” His grimace described the gruesome feeding that must surely have followed.
The second elevator opened to reveal Jetta and Bishop, who were loudly bickering.
“Oh, please, you're one twister away from having a house fall on you,” Bishop snarled as he briskly walked ahead of her and out of the elevator.
“So now you're calling me a witch?” Jetta demanded while glaring at his back as she followed him.
“If the broomstick fits--”
Carter, Lee, and Rafael eyed Jetta and Bishop as they stepped off the elevator with their fight in progress.
“Somehow I don't think that room sharing went the way he'd hoped,” Carter remarked with a humored laugh. He appeared to be having the last laugh now.
“There's a reason why some people shouldn't breed,” Bishop announced firmly to Carter. “This one would undoubtedly eat her young.”
Carter laughed softly and guided Lee toward the elevator. “You two enjoy guard duty for the next two hours.”
Lee looked at Jetta as she passed them and appeared sympathetic. “Did you want me to stay with Bishop on guard duty?”
“No, that's okay. We'll be fine,” she replied and smiled her appreciation. “He's just cranky because he hasn't gotten laid--” Jetta sneered at Bishop. “--in over a year.”
“And now we know why you're still a virgin,” Bishop snapped and cast his back against the desk.
Lee cringed, appeared sympathetic to Jetta, and entered the elevator with her father. Rafael walked past them while heading for the elevator to join Carter and Lee and gave Bishop a firm, scolding look.
“Dude,” Rafael said to Bishop, “you really need to stop with the hostility.”
“She's the one--”
“You know it's you,” Rafael interrupted then firmly motioned at them. “You two--kiss and make up. Seriously.”
Rafael entered the elevator. The doors closed. Jetta approached the front desk and easily jumped on it in a sitting position. Bishop stared at both doors crowded with zombies and appeared to reconsider.
“We do have bigger problems,” he remarked with less enthusiasm for fighting. “We shouldn't be arguing.”
“We don't argue, we banter,” she replied simply. “People who argue don't get along. We enjoy annoying the hell out of each other. It's just what we do.”
Bishop studied her a moment then appeared humored and grinned. “Oh, so you enjoy my company?” he teased.
“Of course I do. Does that surprise you?”
His teasing smile faded into a look of surprise. “Actually, it does. I always thought you had little use for me,” he remarked then placed his hand on her thigh.
Jetta casually removed his hand from her leg. “I'm used to dealing with all sorts of attitudes. My father's men are pretty over-the-top,” she informed him. “Besides, you're not without your charm.”
Bishop appeared humored and moved even closer to her. “Are you hitting on me?”
Jetta rolled her eyes and jumped off the front desk while groaning with disgust. “Oh, please--”
“That wasn't a denial.”
Jetta walked past him, cast herself onto the nearby sofa, and appeared tense.
“No, I wasn't hitting on you.” At least she hoped she wasn't. Maybe she was. It had been a confusing sort of day. She wished she could shake the image of him in those black, boxer briefs. “I was just--” She hesitated to collect her thoughts, so she wouldn't say something stupid. “I don't want you to think I don't care about you.”
Bishop sat next to her on the sofa and stared at her with genuine surprise. “Oh, my God, you are hitting on me.” He suddenly grinned. “This is nice for a change.” He placed his arm around her shoulder while looking at her lustfully.
Jetta rolled her eyes, pulled away from him with a groan, and stood. “I don't know why I bother.”
Bishop grabbed Jetta around the waist and pulled her off her feet and onto his lap. She gasped with surprise then glared at him as he held her.
“You know this won't end well for you.”
“I've seen you sit on Desmond's lap plenty of times at the tavern.”
“That's different,” she remarked. “There was limited seating. You're just scratching an itch.”
“No, I actually just want you to sit on my lap,” he announced. “I think I'm entitled to one, last cheap thrill before you get me killed.”
There was a moment of silence. Jetta stared at him and considered his comment. There was the distinct chance she might get him killed on her suicide mission. She didn't want that to happen. As she stared into his eyes, she couldn't deny that she was attracted to him any longer. If life ended tomorrow, she wanted a night of pleasure with this man.
“You're right,” she replied softly and uncertainly touched his chest while avoiding looking into his eyes. “We could both use one, last cheap thrill.”
Bishop groaned softly, pulled her against him, and kissed her passionately. She uncertainly returned the kiss, which seemed to encourage his aggression. Then a thought occurred to her. If life didn't end tomorrow, he would undoubtedly torment her endlessly if she slept with him. She couldn't let this go any further and broke off the kiss. Bishop was reluctant to end the kiss but managed a smile all the same.
“I was actually hoping for a longer, one, last cheap thrill,” he teased.
“I'd love to accommodate you, Bishop,” she remarked then grinned slyly. “But I'm afraid our odds of survival are a little too good for me.”
“Oh? And what are our odds?”
She considered it a moment. “I'm giving us a forty percent chance of survival.”
He appeared stunned. “That's it? Seriously?” he demanded. “I gave us seventy percent, and I thought that was deserving of ‘our last night on earth’ sex.”
Jetta laughed and touched his face. “You're cute.”
As he stared into her eyes, his look turned serious. He gently took her hand from his face and warmly kissed it. Jetta couldn't look away as her heart pounded with anticipation. It didn't seem possible, but somehow she'd fallen in love with him. This wasn't like the childhood crushes she'd had on every man in her father's unit while growing up. This was love. Bishop gently caressed her chin while brushing his lips past hers. The look in his eyes and the firmness of his lap conveyed his intentions. She knew she should stop him, so he wouldn't get the wrong idea--even if it was what she really wanted. Certainly, she was entitled to one night of regret just like anyone else. He kissed her gently on the lips.
“Bishop,” she heard herself softly protest.
She immediately wondered what was wrong with her. It was just one night. Lots of women did that sort of thing all the time. Why couldn't she? She cursed herself for being such a prude, and at the same time, praised herself for being so virtuous. As she wrestled with her emotions, Bishop looked into her eyes and offered a warm, sincer
e smile. She'd never seen that smile on him before.
“It's okay, Jetta,” he said softly. “I'm not looking to seduce you.”
She appeared surprised.
He seemed to hesitate then grinned timidly with an afterthought. “Well, maybe I am a little,” he remarked with boyish charm then reestablished his seriousness. “I haven't been in a relationship for, well, a long time.” He appeared to tense. “And when I say relationship; that includes all sexual activity. In fact, I haven't even asked anyone out in the nine months I've been in Winter Harbor. But I guess that's mostly because I figured you'd say no.” There was a moment of silence, as he appeared to consider something. “Jetta, will you have dinner with me some evening?” he asked with a sincere smile on his face.
Jetta stared into his eyes a moment with surprise then smiled and nodded. “Yes, I'd love to.”
Bishop appeared almost surprised then chuckled softly. “That was easier than I thought. Oh, and for the record,” he indicated her on his lap. “I intend to keep you right where you are until the end of our shift.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and laughed softly. “I'm actually quite comfortable,” she replied simply. She allowed her hand to slide along his shoulder and to his chest. As she stared into his eyes, she couldn't deny her feelings any longer. “And as long as we're being honest with each other,” Jetta said softly. “I'd like to reconsider that offer of sympathy sex.”
Bishop appeared stunned, shifted sharply beneath her, and attempted to hide his lustful grin while acting casual. “Would it be wrong for me to throw you down on the sofa and rip your clothes off?”
Jetta casually indicated the zombies pressing against the doors. “I'd prefer someplace a little less crowded. I recommend waiting until after our shift.”
“I suppose you're right,” he replied while caressing her back and thigh. He could no longer control his grin. “I'd be willing to hold off on the ripping off of the clothing part, if you'd agree to me throwing you down on the sofa.”
She looked at him with some surprise. A devious smile then crossed her face. “Okay.”
Bishop suddenly groaned and tackled her to the sofa. She let out a playful scream as he landed on top of her.
Chapter Twenty-seven
It was just before dawn. The parking lot outside the tavern looked like a war zone with smashed cars, scattered zombie body parts, and several zombies lying on the ground attempting to pull themselves along with severely mangled legs. What was left of the sports car smoldered in several pieces on Millers Road with the remnants of a charbroiled man melted into the seat and steering wheel. The remaining survivors within the tavern stood near the back wall and stared at the bar with concerned looks on their weary faces. Hunter sat at the bar with a grenade and a cup of tea in front of him. Everyone watched and held their breath as he carelessly spun the grenade. It made a distinctive sound as it rolled around the top of the bar.
“Should we be concerned?” Palmer softly asked Desmond while closely watching the spinning grenade.
Desmond's eyes were wide with fear. “Oh, yeah--”
He patted Palmer's shoulder, gathered his courage, and approached Hunter while he spun the grenade and casually sipped his tea.
“Hunter--”
Hunter's mood was cold, and he didn't bother looking at Desmond. He just stared at the grenade. “Where's Jetta?” he demanded to know in a low tone.
“We're going to find her, Hunter,” Desmond insisted and attempted to sound reassuring. “Remember our mission? We're going to liberate the school and then the hotel. That's where we'll find Jetta.”
“You don't know where she is, do you?”
Desmond uncertainly eyed the grenade then looked back at Hunter. “She took Deputy Styles to the hotel. She's there. We need you, Hunter. We need you to hold on to every shred of reality you have for Jetta's sake.”
“Is she dead?” he asked calmly.
“No, she's not dead.”
“She is!” Hunter suddenly lashed out while glaring at Desmond with the look of a demon in his eyes. He appeared wildly unpredictable. “You're lying to me!”
“Oh, crap--” Palmer muttered.
Fei Yen looked at Sheriff Palmer then tugged on Ming's pants leg. “Mommy, he said a bad word.”
Ming clung to Fei Yen, who stood by her legs, and continued to stare at Hunter along with everyone else.
“If he loses it, we're all screwed,” Palmer said softly although more to himself.
Ming appeared to consider the situation then picked up Fei Yen and handed her to Palmer. Palmer took the child with some surprise and watched Ming head toward the bar. She paused behind Desmond.
“Hunter--”
Hunter looked at Ming just past Desmond and his charming smile suddenly returned. He wondered why such a beautiful woman looked so distressed. He'd get to the bottom of that as soon as he was finished interrogating Desmond.
“Good morning, Ming. How's your arm?”
“A little sore,” she replied then indicated the grenade. “May I have that?”
Hunter uncertainly glanced at the grenade in his hand then looked back at Ming. It was the strangest request he'd ever gotten from an attractive woman.
“Why do you want it?”
“Because you're scaring me.”
Hunter stared at Ming with some surprise. He uncertainly looked at the grenade in his hand then back at Ming. He was the reason she looked so concerned? How was that even possible? He'd never hurt her. Surely she knew that.
“You don't need to be afraid of me,” he said gently and smiled at her. “I've never blown up anything without purposeful intent--not even myself.”
She appeared surprised by his comment. “You blew up yourself on purpose?”
“Someone had to manually detonate the bomb, and since it was my bomb--” Hunter smiled gently. “It was the only way to save my men.” Hunter placed the grenade in his pocket, showed her his empty hands, and smiled. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ming said.
Everyone relaxed. Palmer approached Desmond while still holding Fei Yen, who played with the sheriff's badge on his bloodstained uniform. Hunter spoke Chinese to Ming. She appeared surprised, smiled her delight, and responded back in Chinese. Both laughed.
“He speaks Chinese?” Palmer asked Desmond with apparent surprise.
“He may seem borderline, Sheriff, but he's smarter than you and me put together,” Desmond informed him.
“Of course he is,” Palmer muttered. “Why wouldn't he be?” Sheriff Palmer eyed Fei Yen in his arms and appeared curious. “Do you know what they're saying?”
“He likes her hair,” she replied.
“Great, he's hooking up,” Palmer scoffed then looked at Desmond. “Get the Casanova to share the plan. It's going to be light soon.”
“He seems to be enjoying himself,” Desmond remarked gently. “Maybe we shouldn't interrupt them.”
“Ming!” Palmer called out with a devious look on his face. “Fei Yen needs to use the potty!”
“No, I don't,” she protested.
Ming and Hunter exchanged a few more words in Chinese while smiling. Ming said something, kissed his cheek, and then returned to Palmer and Fei Yen.
“Mommy, the sheriff told a lie,” Fei Yen firmly said to her mother.
Palmer handed Fei Yen to Ming. “No one likes a tattle tale, kid.”
“It's nearly sunup, Hunter,” Desmond informed him. “What's our plan of attack for the school?”
Hunter shrugged with little interest and shook his head. “That's your department. I just blow up things. You're in charge, remember?”
Desmond and Palmer exchanged looks and groaned. Palmer's disgust was quickly returning. Perhaps it was just from lack of caffeine.
“Yes, of course I'm in charge,” Desmond muttered. “Why wouldn't I be?” He studied Hunter and took a more firm stance. “What was the plan I'd told you?”
“You said we needed trucks with radios,
drivers, and shooters. Our best shooters, you, me, Palmer, Wayne, Edwin, Kyle, and Dirk, will be on the front lines.”
“Yes, that's the plan,” Desmond replied with a sigh of relief. “Why don't you relay that to the men for me?”
Hunter stared at Desmond with disappointment and slowly shook his head. “How on earth did you become an admiral?”
“I honestly have no clue.”
“College boys,” Hunter scoffed then casually sipped his tea.
†
Predawn light entered the guestroom through a part in the heavy curtains, providing dim lighting within the room. Bishop and Jetta kissed passionately and aggressively while firmly groping each other beneath the covers. Jetta clung to Bishop as he firmly and rhythmically moved against her. She moaned her pleasure. He was panting heavily between kisses then moved more aggressively against her. He gasped then groaned lowly as his body relaxed on top of hers beneath the sheets. He attempted to control his heavy breathing then looked into her eyes while grinning.
“You lied,” he teased softly while panting. “There's no way you're a virgin.”
“Well, not anymore,” she replied with a soft laugh.
Bishop chuckled, moved off her, and collapsed on the bed alongside her. He pulled her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest. She was pleasantly mussed. Bishop was nearly exhausted and still breathed heavily. He looked at her as she lie against his chest and remained curious.
“You weren't, were you?”
She lifted her head, met his gaze, and remained bewildered. “Weren't what?”
He smiled timidly and fidgeted. “You know--a virgin.”
Jetta lifted herself onto her elbow and looked into his eyes with all seriousness. “There have been a couple of minor indiscretions with a few overzealous Navy Seals over the years, but my virginity was never compromised.”
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