Everything in this area looked to Gretchen’s eyes like storefronts that had once sold dusty antiques and overpriced handmade jewelry, with one or two dive bars and pool halls thrown in for good measure. For what it was worth she was very thankful that these few buildings had stood the test of time, as she, nor Fitz she imagined, would have relished being trapped on the low roof of some strip mall. That had happened a few other times in their past, and neither of them cared to repeat that particular level of suck. Not that they didn’t have a tough puzzle to sort out, and somehow without dying. The two thrillers rushed up the fire escape stairs, pausing only long enough to hurl a lone zombie off the railing and into the teeming street below.
By the time the pair reached the roof they had only counted one fire escape exit that had not already been locked from the inside, though sadly that door had been seemingly blown off its hinges. It was two stories down from the top, and since it was at six story building they were pretty sure it would take the zombies a good while to get at them. The horde would have to flood into the building, then eventually by trial and error they would find their way up the stairs, and finally to the open door and up the fire escape.
Zombies were relentless in their pursuit of prey, though were easily killed or otherwise distracted when alone or in small groups. These horde sized groups were nearly impossible to engage with deception or brute force, and since the bullets had run out years ago the thrillers had learned a long time ago when to run and when to hide. The problem with hiding, however, was that zombies don’t sleep, shit, or get hungry. The city was the only real safe place to hide, with three story walls that were a patchwork of existing buildings, metal plating, and scavenged timbers. The legions of walkers that would usually be banging on the city’s walls day and night were kept busy by the continuous deathrides by the city’s disaffected and violent youths. There was enough action outside the walls to keep most of the zombies wandering the suburban wastelands, though certainly there were still thousands slamming their fists on the walls at any given time.
“What I wouldn’t give for a fucking machine gun,” grumbled Fitz as he looked down at the horde below, “Bio-diesel and food we got plenty, but damn ya know?”
“Well at least we have the flares, might as well get those flying and see if we can get eyes on Ronnie,” said Gretchen as she kept her wounded leg out of Fitz’s line of sight.
The big man nodded and rummaged through his pack as the pair listened to the undead smashing their way through the building and making their way towards the roof.
MIRANDA
The zombie had torn into his shoulder, and wretched her head back and forth in a frenzy as she worked to pull free a chunk of Ronnie’s flesh. The thrill killer had screamed in pain and the car swerved violently. He’d already had to make one circle around the block to keep the fast growing horde from overwhelming Fitz and Gretchen as they broke into the general store. When the undead poured out of the door after the thrill killers Ronnie had planned on just plowing right through the crowd to reach his friends, and that was when he was bitten. Ronnie was a skilled driver, and had managed to elbow the creature off of him as he drove, then when he had enough of a clear path he dared to look back at the zombie. It was Miranda.
Before he dared think the thrill killer gripped her by the throat and held her at bay while he drove with his other hand. His sturdy leather jacket kept her claw-like fingers from damaging him any more, and within a few minutes he’d found an area clear of zombies. There was so much racket being made by Fitz and Gretchen that every walker in the area was vectoring in on them. Ronnie knew he had to go back, he knew he had to rescue his friends, and that every second was precious, but this was Miranda. There was no mistaking it.
Her long dark hair was matted around her beautiful yet blood splattered face, and her black and white outfit was filthy but still clung to her wretchedly attractive body. In one hand she still clutched her gore-caked hatchet, and thankfully Ronnie saw it coming and caught it by the handle before it slammed into his face. Some habits died hard when a person became a zombie, which was one of the key reasons that most of the walkers didn’t overwhelm the city’s defenses. Most of them haunted the places they lived, worked, and played. The two of them struggled briefly as Ronnie leap into the back seat with her and wretched the axe out of her hand, then pinned her down as she tried to claw and bite at him.
Ronnie held Miranda down by her wrists as she bucked against him and gnashed her bloody teeth wildly. He was a hardened killer, and yet in that moment Ronnie could barely see through his tears. She’d already killed him with the bite on his shoulder, that he knew for certain, and yet that upset him so much less than seeing her undead body squirming beneath him.
“Dammit Miranda, even now you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” growled Ronnie as he looked down at the zombie’s gorgeous body, somehow still achingly attractive despite the filthy clothes, bloodstains, and old bite marks that marred it.
Miranda heard nothing, or if she did her only response was to continue to snarl at Ronnie and push against his grip. The zombie arched its back and kicked its legs as it struggled, and Ronnie found himself getting uncomfortably hard. His erection strained against his jeans, and suddenly, with death looming, Ronnie found himself entertaining an idea that mere moments ago he’d have called insane.
“I always wanted you so bad Miranda, but you were Fitz’s girl, you know how it goes with best buds,” said Ronnie as he pulled the zombie’s hands above her head and pinned her with one hand while he unfastened his belt with the other, “But you know what they say, needs must when the devil drives.”
Miranda bared her teeth at him and snapped at the air between them, and seemed unaware of the fact that Ronnie pulled up her shredded skirt. Ronnie gripped the back of her leg and pushed her thigh back to expose her undead womanhood, and then he plunged his cock into her. Ronnie could have sworn for a moment that when he first penetrated her Miranda’s expression had changed. As the thrill killer pumped himself in and out of her he kept telling himself that he saw the glimmer of recognition in her dead eyes. Even dead, Miranda’s pussy felt perfectly fitted for his member, and Ronnie groaned as he had the best sex of his young life. The zombie pushed against him, and to the thrill killer it was as if she knew that they were fucking, and Miranda thrust her hips upwards as she arched her back.
He could almost tell himself that her snarls of hunger were actually moans of lust, and he drove into her as deep and hard as he could. Ronnie’s tears wetted the dried blood that was caked on Miranda’s face, and as he fucked her he wondered how many walkers she’d been able to kill before finally succumbing to the infection. He couldn’t help but to wonder how long it would be before he turned, and at that moment, with his thick shaft impaling the animated corpse of the woman he’d loved but never could have, Ronnie couldn’t have cared less. The thrill killer kept slamming his manhood into the zombie as he let go of her thigh and wrapped his hand around her throat. He held her head in place with sheer strength and leaned in to kiss her as he continued to thrust against her.
Miranda attempted to bite him, though Ronnie had his hand jammed up under her jaw, and she was unable to bite him as he planted a deep bloody kiss on her lips. It was an odd sensation to taste his own blood, but from her lips it tasted right somehow, and Ronnie moaned with pleasure as he exploded inside her thrashing body. Ronnie couldn’t believe how much he came, and kissed Miranda once more as wave after wave of sensation washed over him.
“If you were alive I think you’d have just gotten knocked up darling,” gasped Ronnie as he kept thrusting until his cock had gone entirely flaccid.
The thrill killer continued to hold Miranda down as he pulled his pants up and refastened his belt. Ronnie reached behind him into the front seat and hefted the gory claw hammer. Miranda was equally unaware of her pending end as she had been of just having been roughly taken in the back seat of Ronnie’s hotrod. Ronnie held the hammer aloft for a few moment
s, and then he put it back in the front seat with a deep sigh. The thrill killer hauled the zombie out of the car and shoved her to the ground before hoping over the closed door and back into the driver’s seat.
Ronnie saw a flare shoot into the sky, coming from back in town, and knew it was time to ride. It looked like Fitz and Gretchen had managed to survive, for now.
“Hell of a lay Miranda, you might be dead but don’t let em ever say you don’t still got it,” said Ronnie as he lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then exhaled as he cranked the engine and threw his car into reverse, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
With that Ronnie hit the gas and the hotrod peeled out, turning in a wide circle around the zombie as it got to its feet and started shambling towards the vehicle. The thrill killer put the car in drive and sped off back towards where he’d figured the flare had come from. He might be dying soon, but if Fitz and Gretchen were still alive it was his job to get them back to the city safely before he turned. Maybe they’d bash his skull for him once they got back to town, now that would be polite of them he thought to himself with a grim smile as he smoked and drove.
THRILL KILL THREESOME
Ronnie picked up Fitz and Gretchen just outside the hardware store. They had a pack of walkers in pursuit, but the killers moved with a practiced grace when it came to leaping into the car while it was still moving. Ronnie turned the car around and was speeding back towards the city when he realized that Gretchen had been bitten on the thigh. The two of them locked eyes and the driver could see the knowing look in Gretchen’s expression. Ronnie turned toward Fitz, and the big man had nodded at the driver and showed the two bite marks on his left arm. Ronnie then slowed the car to a stop and pulled down his jacket to show the hole in his shoulder. The three of them sat in silence for a long time, ignoring the encroaching sounds of the massing zombie horde that moved through the ruins on the road towards them. The usual banter was all but gone, and they all knew that soon it would be time to die. A lone walker approached the car from the road ahead, and the three of them could see that it was Miranda.
“Holy shit, is that who I think it is?” gasped Gretchen as she stood up in her seat to get a better view.
“Looks that way,” said Ronnie, choosing not to enlighten his comrades about his recent sexual encounter with the zombie, that knowledge he had decided to take to his grave, “Crazy.”
“Miranda. Wow, this is some real full circle shit right here,” said Fitz as he stepped out of the car hefting his crowbar.
“No point in going home I guess,” said Gretchen as she watched Fitz walk towards Miranda.
“Maybe this was always home,” muttered Ronnie as he watched Fitz approach Miranda, and the thrill killer managed to shut his eyes just before the crowbar obliterated Miranda’s beautiful dead face.
“Well what should we do with our last moments in this miserable turd of a world?” growled Fitz with faux bravado as he accepted Gretchen’s offered cigarette and took a drag, “Wanna go kill some more of these assholes before we die?”
“Nah, I think I’m done with that,” said Ronnie as he pulled a flask of liquor from his glove compartment, “I was saving this for a special occasion, might as well have it now.”
The three of them emptied the flask within a few passes as they drank and smoked in silence. The sun was beginning its downwards arc, and the hard orange light played across Gretchen’s face as she looked back at the zombie horde that was only fifty or so yards from the car.
“You guys remember that post office about ten miles from town, south of here?” asked Gretchen as she looked at the two men, “The fence is weak, but it locked, could buy us some time.”
“Time for what?” asked Ronnie as he looked at the horde in his rearview mirror.
“Time to fuck of course,” said Gretchen as she sat back down, “If I’m gonna die today I’d rather do it half-drunk and right after a three way with you two studs.”
“Beats any plan I’ve got,” smiled Fitz as he climbed back into the car, “Let’s do it while we still can, who knows how fast this shit moves through our systems, it’s different for everyone.”
Ronnie nodded silently and threw on his blinker to signify a left turn, which drew laughter from both Fitz and Gretchen. They made small talk as they drove, recalling fondly their old friends, favorite music, and muscle cars. Soon they were inside the post office compound, and sure enough the fence held against the horde that followed close on their heels. The infection was working its way through their systems with devilish efficiency, and by the time the three of them had parked the car and shed most of their clothes they were beginning to hallucinate and drip with cold sweat.
As the three lovers continued to experience each other their sense of time and space began to change.
Each of them knew that the infection was spreading through their bodies like wildfire, and they had seen their fair share of people fall victim to the bites. They did not have much time at all, though somehow diving into a sexual encounter with each other seemed to help them hold it together, or so they thought. For all three of them the awareness of past and present became difficult, and the threesome became a surreal montage of flesh and blood.
Ronnie knew beyond a doubt that he would soon join the ranks of the walking dead, and it wasn’t just because he had been bitten, or even that everyone who had ever been bitten had turned.
The thriller knew because he could hear the voices of the dead.
Miranda had heard the voices too, thought Ronnie as he looked out across the concrete lot and took in the sight of the massive horde of zombies that pushed against the fence, she’d said as much to the gang before rushing off to die fighting. Ronnie found himself missing Miranda for the third time today, and he intentionally didn’t look down at Gretchen as the young woman ran her tongue across his thick shaft.
For a moment it was zombie Miranda on her knees in front of him, and while sucking began gnashing her teeth to his piece off.
She had been Fitz’s girl and Ronnie was glad it was him who had put her down in the end, but everyone knew that Ronnie and Miranda had a thing together when they’d both been alive. Something about Ronnie and his car drove Miranda wild, and Fitz didn’t seem to mind that whenever they went on a deathride his girl would be sucking off his best friend before it was over. He’d have beat Ronnie senseless if they’d done anything more, but it never went that far. Ronnie finally looked down and saw that Gretchen was looking up at him. Her eyes were glassy from the infection as it coursed through her system, and she spoke through gasps of pleasure as Fitz worked his oral magic on her pierced clit.
“I’m not her Ronnie, and I know you miss the shit out of her,” said Gretchen as she pumped the thriller’s slick manhood with her hand, “I didn’t see the walker flanking me, she got bit saving my ass and I’m willing to own that.”
“Occupational hazard, she knew that,” said Fitz from between Gretchen’s legs as he paused to speak before continuing to lick the young woman’s dripping womanhood, “I miss her too, but you know the saying. Leave the dead for the dead.”
“Leave the dead for the dead,” Ronnie said as he fished out and lit his last cigarette from the crumpled back of smokes rolled into the sleeve of his t-shirt.
“So let’s fuck while we’re still the living,” said Gretchen as she winked up at Ronnie before wrapping her lips around the thriller’s cock.
Ronnie nodded and leaned back over the windshield to crank the volume of the radio as Gretchen bobbed her head with renewed enthusiasm. The thriller put the cigarette in his mouth and smoked hands-free as he gripped a fistful of Gretchen’s hair and clutched her throat in reverse. If he was going to die tonight he wasn’t about to go into that unknown territory without seriously throating the gorgeous woman on her knees in front of him. Gretchen, always a glutton for punishment, whimpered in pleasure as she struggled to cope with the ramming Ronnie was giving her mouth even as Fitz’s tongue lapped at her with achingly peerless skill.
Fitz bit down and tore a chunk of flesh from Gretchen’s shoulder as he gripped her waist and pulled her into him for a deep thrust.
The big thriller fucked her furiously from behind, and Ronnie was having to be equally brutal with her mouth and hair just to keep the young woman steady. Fitz blinked his eyes and saw that Gretchen’s back was indeed torn up and rent with bloody bite marks, though he recalled that it was not he who had done that. It was the zombie from earlier, though he could have sworn a moment before it was him. Must be the infection, he told himself, and as he took in the full view of his manhood disappearing into Gretchen’s gorgeous body he found himself grinning. He was going to die today, but before he went he was getting a piece of Grade A tail. With the kind of gusto that only a dead man could muster Fitz doubled his effort and began fucking Gretchen so hard that it was all she could do to scream his name. That suited him just fine.
Thrillers (Sex & Violence Book 2) Page 2
