Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set, Vol. 2 [Books 4-7]
Page 69
His touch sent a shiver up her spine and she turned her head and looked at his rugged face. She was shocked when she looked down and realized that she had her hand touching his cheek, her palm and fingers gently brushing the stubble on his jaw. Then she was even more shocked at how right it felt. All this time, a kind, sweet, gentle-hearted man was right in front of her, and not a wannabe man like Noah, but a real man. In that moment, she had a brief and sudden flashback to her husband, David. He had very much been a true man like that, and suddenly her body yearned so badly for that feeling that was now resting in the palm of her hand.
Wayne's hand slid up her thigh and brought an intense rush of warm and fuzzy electric sensations with it, and that was all that she needed to send her over the edge. She found herself plunging headlong into Wayne's kiss, his lips rough yet impossibly soft at the same time. Their tongues met, and as his hands continued to explore, going by sense of feel alone, she felt her crotch get wet. She returned the favor and they began exploring each other's bodies and wrapping themselves up in the hot ball of passion. Sarah was struck by an emotion so intense and so pleasurable at how amazing this all felt, that she started to cry.
"Are you okay?" he asked, pausing.
"I've never been better," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes and leaning in for another taste of him. As his whiskers scratched against her face, she felt that tingling feeling roll through her whole body. When their clothes came off and he entered her, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from gasping.
In all the time she'd spent alone or leading other people lately, she had hardened herself so much to brace against the vicious world and her brutal foes, but now as he thrust in and out of her, and her head gently swayed back and forth on the smooth rock as her eyes drifted up to the stars, she finally identified the feeling that had been missing from her life: she felt like a woman again.
As the gruff and strong man held her in his muscular arms and made love to her so tenderly, for the first time in as long as she remembered, she let her guard down, swept up in the feeling of magic and protection, and for those blissful moments, she let all her worries melt away as her body and soul became one with the earth and all of nature around her.
When she woke up in the morning, Sarah found her head pressed against Wayne's naked chest. She braced herself for feelings of apprehension and guilt, but as she turned her head and looked at his dozing face, there was none of that. A smile spread across her lips, and all she could feel was happiness, the emotions she experienced the night before still lingering.
The sky was a bright, clear blue outside of the alcove, highlighting the tops of the beautiful green trees.
As Wayne began to stir, Sarah took the opportunity to take in Wayne's naked body once more before he caught her gawking.
"I saw that," he said.
Sarah cracked up. "Somehow I doubt that." She placed her hand on his chest and ran her fingers up and down it. "Last night was amazing," she said. Her gaze lingered on his chest for a few seconds before climbing up and studying his face for his reaction.
He smiled. "Yes it was. I haven't been with a woman like that in a long time," he said. "Not since my ex-wife."
"You know, lying next to a naked girl for the first time isn't the right time to bring up an ex," she said.
"No, I mean it," he replied. She could see a sense of earnestness on his face. "It's been so long since I've done something like this that I didn't even think it was possible anymore. I didn't think that part of me still existed. I don't really know how to say this, but..."
"But what?" she urged.
"But... it just feels like you've awakened a part of me that I always prayed still existed, but never believed. Sorry, I know that sounds stupid."
"No, it doesn't."
They both remained silent, smiles crossing their faces, as they cuddled together in the morning's light. After resting for a while, they agreed that they should get up and keep moving.
"How are your ribs feeling?" Sarah asked.
Wayne sat up as pain twisted his face and he let out a harsh grunt. "Not great."
"Can you move?"
"If I have to move, I'll move," he said. "A Marine never stops."
Sarah marveled at him for a moment. Life had beaten her down and she had to build herself up and toughen herself just to survive, but all her toughness just seemed so phony when she was next to him; he was like the real deal.
She tried to help him up to his feet, but he insisted on doing it himself. They got dressed and started making their way along the cliff face where they had jumped down. They tried to climb back up, but the top of the cliff was always just a little too far out of reach. After skirting around for a while, they relented and headed down the slope deeper into the woods.
Sarah guided them with caution, keeping her senses sharp and her eyes watchful in the bright sunlight.
But they were still out in the open and vulnerable, the woods stretching out as far as they could see in all directions. And when Sarah heard the first footstep crunch against the dried out twigs on the ground, her heart sank. The undead hadn't gone far in the night and now as they spun around, they saw another shambling corpse from behind the trees, one by one.
"How many?" Wayne barked.
"I don't know," Sarah said.
Sarah backed them away from the undead, but as she turned around, she saw they were surrounded from virtually all sides. "We have to run," she quietly added. "Can you run?"
"I don't know," he said, nervousness now starting to rise in his voice.
The undead didn't chase them at first, just calmly walking toward them instead to snare them in their trap. But as soon as Sarah and Wayne fled, the zombies closed in.
Sarah slipped them through a gap in their ranks, managing to shoot one close by in the head before it could grab them. Sarah kept the gun in her hand as she held her arm out like a bar behind Wayne's back and pushed him along. He grunted in pain and wheezed as he ran, noticeably slower than last night.
Sarah knew they couldn't have a repeat of the night before; there would be no more miraculous getaways. But as they ran and the dead chased, she heard the sound of running water from somewhere up ahead.
They approached a narrow and rickety rope bridge extending across a river in the distance. It seemed to be the only way to the other side. Sarah didn't know how close the dead were behind them, and she didn't dare look, but if they could get across... if they could just get across, maybe she could stop the dead from doing the same.
"We're going to cross a rope bridge!" Sarah told Wayne. "Stay with me! Just a little bit further!"
Wayne huffed and puffed as he held onto her shoulder. His legs were sluggish, but he pushed them as hard as they would go. As soon as their feet made contact with the uneven planks of the wobbly rope bridge, it jerked and swayed far too much for comfort, but Sarah told Wayne to hold onto the rope as she guided them across.
They only made it halfway before the dead began to run onto the bridge behind them, the force of their movement so raucous that the rope bridge swayed and twisted violently.
Sarah hunkered down, getting her balance, but then she felt Wayne slip away from her. Her heart jumped into her throat as she turned and saw Wayne lose his footing. He slipped and struck the wooden planks of the bridge with his side, then as the bridge gave another uneven twist, he slid right off the side of it underneath the rope, and he plunged into the raging river below.
Sarah only had time to see his body being swept away at an incredible speed for a second or two before she continued to flee for her life.
8
Close Encounters
Sandra walked along the main corridor on the first floor of the mansion. She carried a dinner tray as her high heels clicked against the marble. Her arms trembled, causing the silver dome to rattle against the plate it covered. Some of the soldiers that she passed who were standing guard eyed her up, and she tried to contain herself and not show how nervous she was.
She walked through the marble archways, passing the main foyer and the extravagant fountain that sat in the middle of it. An extraordinary crystal chandelier hung above the fountain, as elegantly-chosen potted plants complemented the exquisite moldings and tapestries. It was all quite a sight to behold, but Sandra kept her eyes on the floor. When she passed a guard, her gaze would shift up and look straight ahead, trying to act like there was nothing out of the ordinary. But on the inside she was terrified.
Jeb managed to get her back inside the mansion without any of the other soldiers roughing her up. He found a private moment with her to hold her in his comforting arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right. He hated working for Glass, and he felt like just as much of a prisoner as she did. She cursorily explained that she was getting some help from the outside, but for the sake of Sarah's operational security, much as Sandra loved Jeb, she kept the details scant with him. But he understood completely, and he was willing to play his part and be there for Sandra with whatever she needed. He promised that he would keep a watchful eye over her, but there was only so much he could do to protect her with Glass steering the ship.
As she came to the elevator and one of the guards pressed the button and summoned it for her, she tried to work out in her head whether she had been randomly chosen to take Glass's dinner up to him, or if she had been singled out specifically. She hoped it was the former, but the latter possibility made a pervasive weakness run through her legs. She stepped into the elevator, accompanied by an armed guard, she tried to hide the wobble in her step and carry on like nothing was wrong.
The soldier punched the third floor button in the large elevator, having gotten the call over his radio that the order was coming up. The doors of the elevator shut and Sandra awkwardly stood in the corner, trying not to let the plate and cutlery rattle on the smooth, yet slow ride up to the third and final floor of the mansion. She felt like the air in the elevator had been sucked out and replaced with the dense smoke from a fire. Her lungs burned, and she felt her face get red, hoping it didn't actually show on the outside.
When the doors opened at last, she let herself breathe again, and the guard escorted her out along the hallway, around a corner and down to the very end toward Glass's private sleeping quarters.
They stopped at a checkpoint in the hallway right before his office, and she set the tray down on the inspection table, standing off to the side and wringing her hands in each other as she stared up at a fault in the marble work on the wall.
One of the soldiers standing at the inspection station pushed around the condiments and utensils on the tray, then he lifted the side of the dome nearest to him and peeked under it. He lowered it again and nodded to the soldier accompanying her.
When Sandra didn't immediately pick up the tray, her escort tapped her on the shoulder and made her jump. She became frantic and quickly picked up the tray again, rattling everything on it and feeling her face flush again. They moved on to the end of the hallway where two armed guards stood outside an elaborate mahogany door. They stopped in front of the guards, and her escort took the food tray from her. Sandra tepidly approached the two guards and raised her arms away from her body. One of the guards stepped forward and began patting her down, checking in the pockets of her maid's apron, up and down her legs and arms, and all around her torso. He stuck his forefinger up in the air toward her lips and she opened her mouth. The guard hooked his finger on her bottom lip and tilted her head down, looking inside and telling her to raise her tongue. When he was satisfied, he motioned to her escort and he handed the tray back to her.
The escort turned and left and the two soldiers guarding the door parted to the sides of the hallway, one of them grabbing the large and ornate handle and opening it for her.
A cold chill swept into the hallway and made her shiver. Glass liked to keep his private quarters cold, and she always hated going in there, even if he was gone and she was just cleaning.
As she walked in, the guard shut the door behind her. She looked around but didn't see Glass in the main room, and she figured that he was off in the washroom or in the bedroom. The first room she was in was a private sitting area where he usually ate his meals, and she walked forward, her heels clicking on the intricately-designed parquet floor, and she set the tray down on the table. When she turned around, Glass was standing behind her and she nearly jumped out of her shoes.
"Bring it in the bedroom," he said, then he turned and led the way.
Sandra hadn't expected him to sneak up on her like that, and her heart raced as she felt the fear start to rise up in her. She had hoped that her escape had gone largely unnoticed, especially since she had only been gone a few days and there were many other servants owned by Glass. She hoped it was just a staffing problem handled by the internal team without the issue coming to Glass's attention, but she didn't think she was so lucky.
She followed him into the bedroom, a large space with a four-poster bed and a wide window draped in red silk curtains. The ceiling arched up from the corners and a rather frightening mural was hand-painted on it, featuring a battle between the angels of God and demonic forces. Old busts and other antiques lined the mantle over the fireplace and some smaller tables in the corners of the room. She never liked looking at any of them, because they all gave off a creepy, occult vibe.
Glass sat down on the edge of his bed and pointed out a table across the room in front of him. "Set it down there."
She did as she was told and laid the dinner tray down on the table as smoothly as possible. Then she tidied up the cutlery and condiments on it and stood beside the table with her hands folded into each other, waiting for further instructions. She prayed that he would tell her to leave, and she found herself stealing glances at the window across the room from her, morbidly wondering if she could actually run fast enough to hurl herself through the glass.
Glass slowly removed the gloves from his hands, revealing his scarred and melted skin. He took off his black brimmed hat and placed it on the bed next to him. Then he just sat there, taller sitting down than she was standing, and stared at her.
Sandra's heartbeat increased very rapidly, and she desperately wanted him to tell her what to do to end this tormenting silence.
Finally, he said, "Well, are you going to serve me my dinner?"
She swallowed and meekly turned to the tray. She grabbed the handle of the silver plate cover and lifted it off the food. A gasp escaped her lips.
Sitting on the plate was a large hunting knife.
Her body began to shake, and this time she couldn't hide it. She stood there for the longest time, just staring down at the knife. Finally, she turned around and looked at Glass, not saying anything, but silently questioning why there was a knife on the plate instead of food.
"Bring it to me," his rich and booming voice echoed through the room.
She looked at him a moment longer as if to ask if he was serious, but when he continued to stare at her, she turned back to the knife and carefully wrapped her fingers around the handle. She lifted it off the plate, feeling its hefty weight in her hand. She never held something like this before, and seeing how sharp the blade was and being totally in the dark to his intentions with this strange charade, she found herself start to hyperventilate. Her mouth opened and she found a gasp escape her every breath. She tried to stifle them, but she couldn't. And yet, Glass just sat there and waited for her to bring him his dinner.
Sandra slowly walked, holding the knife out i
n front of her, not sure how to handle it. The sight of his massive figure sitting on the bed in front of her suddenly seemed like a big target to her, and her eyes traced from the sharp tip of the blade to his huge chest, hidden behind a black coat. She felt like she was being pulled to him by a tractor beam as her feet seemed to move on their own. Even though she traveled the whole way with the tip of the knife pointing toward him, he remained motionless on the bed like a statue until she stopped right in front of him.
Finally, he held out his hand and Sandra cautiously gave him the knife. When it was firmly in his grip, she instinctively backed away from him, the fear and panic still rising in her.
Very timidly, and through shaky breaths, Sandra asked, "Is there anything else?"
"Strip," he said.
A constant scream filled her mind as she stood shaking on the spot. If he had done anything or said anything, it wouldn't have been so bad, but just the way he silently sat there and stared at her while holding the knife scared the life out of her.
She prayed that he wasn't serious, but she knew he was, and she didn't dare disobey him. Her hands were shaking badly now, but she removed her apron and set it down on the floor, then stepped out of her heels.
Glass's head remained still, pointing at her. It was impossible to see what his expression was under his mask, and that made it even scarier; that realistic-looking and frightening purple skull gazing into her soul with its black chasms for eyes and its toothy, Godless mouth.
Sandra removed her shirt and then her skirt, dropping them on the floor next to her. She stood there in her underwear with stockings on her legs, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut as tears began to flow out of them. She reached behind herself and unhooked her bra, slowly removing the shoulder straps and letting it fall to the floor. She stared at him as if she was hoping he would find it good enough, but then she continued and bent over, lowering her panties to the floor and stepping out of them.