“Another pod further back. Nine o’clock-ish.”
“I see them.”
“They look like natives.” Several of the biters wore the hijab. “Sorry, ladies.” I fired several shots.
“Don’t waste your ammo,” Chris yelled over a blast of bullets. “Fire when I say so.”
I braced my pistol against the hood and exhaled loudly. “Yes sir, Captain, sir.”
He glanced down. “Don’t get all pissy. I don’t expect you to know how to shoot.”
By my count, there were seven undead soldiers left in the rear pod. ISIS? PKK? Peshmerga? Ahrar al-Sham, or al-Nusra? As they drew closer, a chill went down my spine. The ragged uniforms were U.S. military.
I did not want to think about going hand-to-hand with these biters. The first bunch had been easy, more of a stinking pile of rotten flesh. But these guys were fresh, and they appeared tougher than any zombie had a right to be.
Chris brought several of them down, but within seconds they were back on their feet pushing forward. When they drew close enough to hear the zombie wheeze, he held the trigger down and cut the legs out from under the leaders.
“Fire at will, Lizzy.”
I got off a few shots before he jumped to the ground. “We need to fall back.”
“Why?” I protested. “We’ve almost got ’em.”
He flipped down my night vision goggles.
Chris reloaded the M4 and both pistols while I scanned the surrounding desert. “Nothing—no wait.” Several new pods were coming in fast. “At least two dozen biters—shit, we’re doomed.”
“Not if we fight them from higher ground.” He grabbed my hand, and we scrambled up the rise toward the motorcycle.
“Maybe we ought to just take off on the bike?” I asked.
Chris dug into a saddlebag full of ammo. “Our food and water is in the truck, along with your clothes and a medical kit. He looked up and flashed that irresistible smile. “Man up, Lizzy, we can take these guys.”
With Chris at my back, my machete in one hand and a Beretta M9 in the other, I gathered my courage to the sticking place.
We fought the first wave smart and hard and held the high ground. Our situation grew dicier during the next assault. Biters crawled over each other like cockroaches, and scaled the steep side of the causeway.
Nearly overrun, we had to quickly change tactics. Any head that popped up along the roadside was routinely chopped off or shot between the eyes. It was almost too easy.
“Watch your back.” Chris’s warning broke through a harsh wind of zombie hisses, as a new pod attacked from the north.
I dodged an outstretched zombie arm, but lost my balance and tumbled down the bank. I rolled head over heels, dragging the biter with me. The fucking thing landed on my chest, reeking of dead flesh and maggots.
I pressed my fists into the creature’s chest and held him off. Something was wrong. My arms trembled, and I could barely breathe. Inches above me, the rotten, decomposing face hissed and snapped. A single scratch from this thing and I could be infected.
A gun fired and zombie brains exited the skull of above me.
A handsome face stared down at me. “You okay?”
“Not sure.” I spoke in short gasps.
Chris yanked the body off. “You’ve had the wind knocked out of you.”
So this is what it felt like to suffocate.
He helped me to my feet and stayed close. The nerves surrounding my paralyzed diaphragm were sending intense pain messages to my brain.
“Lean over and brace yourself.” He placed my hands on my knees and held on to me for as long as he could. It seemed like an eternity before my lungs began to inflate.
Vaguely, I was aware of gunfire and the crunch of shattered bones. I glanced up at an outcropping of rock. A group of biters had piled onto the end of the ledge.
I grabbed his pant leg. “Above you,” I gasped.
He barely had time to brace for impact before the fucking things flung themselves off the edge.
I watched helplessly as Chris went hand-to-hand with a biter. Several more flying undead hit the ground around us. While I strained to breathe, fallen zombies struggled to recover.
If even one of those biters managed to get upright, we’d be undead in seconds. Three feet away, I spied my machete blade angled into the ground. I reached out and something popped in my chest. My fingers closed around the blade handle as my lungs filled with air.
In combat, especially when it’s life or death and things are dire, everything moves in slow motion. I hacked at skulls as I wove a path between squirming bodies. I finally made eye contact with Chris over a zombie’s shoulder. He held off the air biter with both hands. “Anytime, Lizzy.”
I chopped into the spinal cord, and he wrenched the head off. The skull rolled downhill, jaws still snapping.
“Looks like you lost your head, amigo.” He kicked the carcass off.
I stood over him, amused. “I’m sorry, did you just tough-talk a headless zombie?” I offered him a hand up. “For a moment there, I thought I’d never get to see that impressive erection of yours.”
Chris grabbed my hand and rose to his feet. “No need to wait. Stick your hand down my pants.”
“Fuck you.”
He flashed the arrogant special forces smirk and stepped through fallen crawlers. Here and there, he fired his pistol. “Start packing, I’ll clean this up.”
I trekked back to the transport vehicle and rummaged until I found my duffle bag stuffed with desert camo fatigues and a hoodie. There was even a change of underwear and a T-shirt. I turned the field pants inside out to inspect for bugs and repacked the bag. One by one, I checked items off the list:
Medical kit. Check.
Plastic water jugs. Check.
Spent ammo bag full of Cheetos and Ho Hos. Check and check.
I refilled my water bottle and took a long drink. Zombie corpses lay strewn across the desert and up the ridge road. I spotted Chris halfway down the embankment, making his way back.
He nearly drained my water bottle, and when I tried to steal it back, he turned sideways and continued to guzzle. He handed over the empty after he’d sucked out every last drop.
“Now I have to fill it up again.”
He offered no apology. “Zombie killing is a thirsty business.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you hurt?” He did a slow up and down inspection of my body.
“A few scrapes, mostly from that tumble downhill.”
He nodded. “Not that you’re wearing much, but I’m going to need to see the rest of you.”
After the last skirmish, my libido was less than interested.
The horn dog warrior pulled his tee shirt over his head. “We need to check each other over. I know I got nicked up.”
I crossed my arms over my newly acquired body armor.
His gaze narrowed. “Take your clothes off, Lizzy.”
Chapter Four
SEVERAL DAYS BEFORE a tsunami-sized horde of zombies swarmed the refugee camp, the hospital had received a shipment of drugs and a medical update from the CDC. The report suggested that if a minor bite or scratch was treated early, a healthy body could fight off the z-virus.
Early detection was critical. The treatment required a series of injections to boost the immune response. And when the word came to evacuate camp, a locked cold box had been stocked with nearly ten thousand ampules of the recommended drug and moved to the transport vehicle.
Apparently the military had received a similar memo. The way Chris insisted on checking for bites and scratches could only mean he knew more than he let on.
My eyes narrowed. “You know about the zeta-interferon?”
He continued to undress in silence. Finally, he looked up, his gaze less than reassuring. “The interferon was priority one. Everything else was…”
I stared at him. “We were expendable.”
“Whoa, look at those big eyes. Nothing that dramatic.” He unbuckled and unz
ipped. “Our orders were to extract medical personnel, but the drugs were—”
“Priority one,” I bit out.
“If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’ll go first.” He dropped his pants, along with his boxer briefs.
He had no fucking right to be standing there, pants slouched around his combat boots, looking about as hot as a man can look. Earlier, treating his wound, I hadn’t experienced the full effect of a naked Chris Oakley.
He placed his hands on his hips, just above two sexy curves of groin muscle. The man maintained a nice level of fitness.
I tried not to ogle his penis, which grew larger by the second. A gorgeous thick shaft—not too veiny—with a smooth, circumcised tip. It took all the control I had not to reach out and stroke.
I forced my eyes upward and met his gaze. “Phallus erectus.”
His lips twitched. “Is that the medical term for a hard-on?”
I shook my head. “More like the gladiator term. Doctors just call them erections.” His arms were covered in minor scratches, and both knuckles were skinned-up.
I exhaled a sigh. “I’m having brain-to-mouth control issues. I don’t discuss hard-ons with patients.” I got out my Maglite and checked his sutures. “Your stitches held, by the way.”
On further inspection, his backside was amazing. A strong back tapered down to a great ass and long muscled legs. I examined an abrasion on his lower back. “Any burning, like a really bad sting?” I finished circling and faced him.
“Just this one on my neck.”
I tugged at his beard scruff and tilted his head to one side. Not a bad scratch, but it was showing signs of inflammation.
He read the frown and drawn brows on my face. “I’ve been infected.”
“Now who’s being dramatic? You’re most likely not infected, and even if you are…do you have Hepatitis C?
He shook his head no.
“Are you HIV positive?”
“No.”
“Then, you’re probably not going to zombify.”
Chris stood there balls out and penis bobbing. “No cock inspection?”
He was so…tempting.
“Lucky for you, Captain, the truck is fully stocked with interferon. We won’t know if the treatment works for forty-eight hours. In the meantime, you’ll receive an injection every six hours.”
His disappointed frown made me chuckle.
“Cover up that big guy.” I gave his penis one last ogle and moved to the back of the truck.
Chris lifted me up onto the truck bed and tied back the tarpaulin. The possibility of joining the undead was having a sobering effect on him. He didn’t look happy, but he wasn’t going to cry about it, either. He was handling the news like a man, and he was being helpful.
I used the Maglite to check for zombies lurking behind stacked crates. The truck bed held a mix of the staff’s personal items as well as medical supplies.
I located the cold box under a pile of hospital blankets.
Chris pulled a combat helmet out from behind a steel case full of medical equipment, and tossed it over. “You could use one of these.”
I punched in the drug cabinet passcode. “Shit. Crap. Shit.” I exhaled a breath and tried another passcode, the one we used for hospital records.
He rummaged through some boxes behind me. “Jackpot!” He held up a half dozen Mylar bags.
Freeze dried rations. “Fuck me. I could’ve starved to death.” I tried the drug cabinet code again, and this time the box opened. “Yes!”
I lined a medical refuse bag with cold packs, and filled it with interferon, morphine and a few choice antibiotics. “We can’t take it all, but I grabbed a couple hundred doses.”
He picked up a bottle of morphine. “Smart, we can use this for barter.” He stuffed the drugs into a nylon backpack and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Plus, we’ve got protein.”
“Gee, we just might survive the apocalypse.”
While Chris organized supplies I’d already organized, I filled a syringe with interferon. “I need another look at that cute ass.” He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down his skivvies.
He watched me over his shoulder. “Your turn to get naked.”
I ripped Velcro fasteners, and he helped me lift off the body armor. Seeing his eyes light up at the sight of my breasts made me smile. Sometimes a doctor’s job was easy, take the patient’s mind off his condition.
I cleared my throat. “Do your inspection, Captain.”
“Then drop your drawers.”
“I really don’t think—”
He grabbed hold of my boy shorts and tugged them down. I held onto his shoulders and stepped out of my underwear. He did a slow walk around, inspecting cuts and scratches. My knees were scraped up and there were contusions on both shinbones.
“Anything in back?” I asked.
“Just your sweet little bootie.” He ran his hand ran down the inside of my thigh. “And a few more bruises.” A shockwave of tingles woke up nipples, clitoris, vagina—pretty much all the erogenous zones.
He returned to me, smiling and predatory.
Tired from z-combat, but also over-stimulated, I was fighting my attraction to this brave, amazing soldier. Wild, passionate sex would be a great release, something we could both use. The rarely heard from nymphomaniac Lizzy told me to go for it, ignore the danger signs in his hungry gaze and have a little fun.
No surprise the healer side of me agreed. An orgasm for Lizzy is just what the doctor ordered. I might even get some sleep tonight.
The wily wolf continued to study me. “Killing zombies makes me thirsty.” He pulled me close, crushing my breasts against his chest. “And horny.” His whisper ruffled the fine hairs at my temple.
I’d known this man for three hours, and already I found it hard to get him out of my head for longer than a few seconds. “You want sex.”
Beard stubble brushed my cheek as he nuzzled. “I want you.”
It’s hard to know exactly how to behave when you’re stranded in the middle of the Syrian desert with a horde of undead at your heels. There’s no sex etiquette or code of conduct to follow. Human-based terrorism had eviscerated the normal rules of human interaction years ago. But the zombie apocalypse had made the first fifteen years of the Pan-Islamic wars almost look sane. For one thing, hacking off the enemy’s head was called a mercy killing.
Z contagion aside, Chris and I could very easily not make it out of this mess. A dangerous road lay ahead of us, over terrain filled with IEDs, marauding zombie hordes, predator drones, and real live rebel armies.
The naively optimistic Lizzy believed we could outrun zombies, dodge Hellfire missiles and fight off attacks by Hezbollah. The end-of-days, zombie slayer Lizzy was more cautious. “Maybe,” she whispered in my ear.
Chris and I had a few days, maybe even a whole week together. For that reason alone, the sex had to stay playful.
I caught my breath, then forced myself to exhale slowly. I was overthinking this. Chris didn’t own me, not by a long shot, but he was omnipresent in my thoughts now. I wanted him as a combat and fuck buddy, but at the same time, I needed to be cautious. If I surrendered to him, he’d worm his way into my heart, and I couldn’t let that happen.
I leaned into his strength and warmth. “I think you’d better fuck me.”
Strong hands gripped my hips. “You’re sure?”
His mouth was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. We air-nuzzled, lips barely touching, on a dizzy carbon dioxide high.
“I’m sure,” I whispered, as his mouth covered mine.
I felt his kiss everywhere. A kiss so hot and so deep I didn’t want it to end, ever. He cradled my head in his palm and licked along the sensitive curve of my upper lip in a slow, possessive assault that included sensuous nips and a passionate chase after my tongue.
His kiss left me wobbly-kneed and gasping for oxygen. The handsome zombie wrangler actually took my breath away.
Strong hands cupped my a
ss and his fingers pressed into the warm flesh of my bottom. “Wrap your legs around me.” He opened the truck door with one hand and lay me down on the bench seat. “Scoot down.” He gathered up our gear and weapons and jumped in after me.
I lay there stark naked, vulnerable, and so turned on my legs trembled.
I tried to remember the last time I was this aroused by any man.
I propped myself up on elbows and watched him reload the guns. He glanced over at me and shook his head. “What?”
I raised an impatient eyebrow.
He stowed the M4 on the floor. “You’re so beautiful and I’m about to get laid and…” He shook his head a bit sheepishly. “I don’t know you.”
I frowned. “You’re not having performance anxiety are you?”
He laughed out loud. “I’m probably going to come in about ten seconds.” He unbuckled and unzipped. “I don’t want to leave you frustrated.”
I grinned, but I also narrowed my eyes to slits. “You better not.”
“What gets you off? I need a plan B.”
“We have a saying around the hospital. If he doesn’t go down on you the first time, there won’t be a second.”
He opened my knees gynecologist-style. “Good thing I like the taste of pussy.”
He crawled between my legs and I arched up as he drew a nipple into his mouth.
“Ah-hh, yes,” I hissed.
He sucked gently, then harder as his tongue flicked expertly over the distended tip. “Nipple erectus,” he teased, as his hands slid under my buttocks and lifted, bringing me forward inch by inch.
“Spread your legs.” His whispered demand was sexy as sin.
Chapped lips grazed sensitive skin as he kissed his way down my inner thigh. Something about the friction sent my arousal level soaring. He found my clitoris and licked, teasing me without mercy. I squirmed under his hot velvet tongue. “Oh, Chris—yes.”
He alternated quick, light flicks with longer strokes, sucking my engorged clit into his mouth, then releasing the sensitive throbbing flesh with a kiss.
I opened wider and his eyes gleamed. “That’s some pretty pink.” He kissed the inside of my thigh, as he slid two fingers between my slippery labia, and stroked.
EAT, SLAY, LUZT: A sexy wild ride through the dark heart of the zombie apocalypse. Page 3
