“I cannot wait.” Dan folded his arms across his chest. “I can’t feel my toes anymore and I’m not even kidding.”
Mike turned to Carla. “Hey mom, are there going to be man-eating sharks in the ocean?”
“What? No, sweetie, there are not going to be man-eating sharks in the ocean.”
“I don’t wanna get eaten by a shark!” Matt cried, turning on the waterworks again.
Paul rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Sophia, pulling her against him. She still had that shell-shocked look on her face and that was okay. It would pass. He hoped.
“You are not going to get eaten by a shark, Peanut! What is wrong with you?”
“Guys, I think all the sharks have moved on to other spots.”
Both boys blinked blankly at Dan.
“Because of all the oil?” Mike finally asked.
“Oil?”
“Yeah, in the Gulf.”
He nodded. “That’s exactly right. Sharks hate oil.”
“Why?” Matt asked.
“Well,” Dan said, clearing his throat, “because it gets in their gills and they can’t breathe.”
“I thought they cleaned the oil up.”
Matt shook his head. “I hope they didn’t because then the sharks will come back.”
Paul cast a sideways look at Dan and exhaled a spent breath. “Okay, any other indispensable questions?”
“Just one,” Carla said, raising a hand. “Is this beach going to have a tiki bar?” she asked, cranking up her cackle-box again.
Paul tried to smile back, but she made him nervous. If she learned to relax during the heat of the moment, she might be able to handle a small gun without killing any of them but her mouth and alcohol seemed like a dangerous combination. He shifted his weight on the arm of the chair. “What did you do before any of this happened anyway? For work?”
Carla’s lips bent downward. “Me? I was a realtor for Morton Realty. Why?”
His hope sank. “Just wondering.”
Paul couldn’t stitch a hole in a shirt let alone a bad wound and Dan’s experience as manager of the Apple store in the mall was zero help in this powerless world as well. With the hospitals turning into walking cemeteries, they would need to befriend a doctor or nurse and soon. They had to set themselves up. “Alright, here’s the deal, you’re going to have to carry your weight around here, and that means keeping your head during the tough times.” He looked to Matt and Mike. “And believe me, we’re going to hit some rough patches. I’m not even going to lie.”
The three signaled their agreement with rapid head nods.
Paul’s chocolate-colored gaze jerked back to Carla. “You’re also going to have to learn how to shoot a gun.”
Her face brightened. “My ex was an avid hunter; I know my way around a gun.”
“So do I!” Mike added.
Paul arched an eyebrow at him. “You do?”
“I’ve shot my dad’s guns at the range a ton of times,” Mike proudly stated, puffing his chest out. “Plus, I play Big Buck Hunter.”
Sophia laughed and it was music to Paul’s ears.
“I shot a real deer one time!” Matt piped in.
Mike turned to his younger brother, face slumping in the moonlight. “No…you didn’t.”
“I did too.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did!”
“Did not!”
“Boys!” Carla glared at them. “We have to be quiet now at all times. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” they said as one dull voice, sinking back into the couch.
“This isn’t a game, and we only get one life.”
Dan traded a worried look with Paul as silence took the room, dense and cold to the touch. Carla was right, quiet was for the best but it was also fuel for a mind spinning out of control.
“Didn’t,” Mike whispered.
“I’ll shoot you right fucking now!”
“Matthew Jay Patton!” Carla slapped a hand over her mouth, surprised and unnerved by her rise in volume. She flashed everyone an apologetic look and softened her voice. “You are not shooting anyone, and if I ever hear you use the F-word again...”
Matt stared up her with his jaw dangling. “You’ll what mom? Ground me?”
Carla’s throat clicked dryly when she swallowed. “We just need for you boys to keep quiet.” She stared at them through wet eyes that meant business. “Okay?”
They nodded, making way for a lull in the conversation. Paul took Sophia by the hand and towed her to some pillows and blankets behind the couch, wondering what it would look like out there tomorrow morning when the sun slowly peeked over the eastern horizon like even it was afraid to look. So far, every morning it looked a little worse. A little more dead. Paul laid down next to his wife and yawned, thanking God he and Sophia never had that little girl or boy they were so desperately trying to have. He couldn’t imagine what Carla must be going through and, thankfully, didn’t have to try. For soon after, the Sandman was the only other intruder that night, light on his feet and heavy in the hand.
Chapter Five
TWO DAYS BEFORE OUTBREAK
Back at home, Paul hung his coat on a coat rack behind the front door and rounded up some pre-Metallica empties, cringing when he saw it was already past two in the morning.
“I love your house.”
He glanced at Rebecca from the open kitchen, watching her dump her coat onto Sophia’s favorite chair. “Thanks.”
“Your wife has a great sense of style.”
Paul retrieved two cold beers from the fridge, shuddering at the mention of his wife. This was so wrong it wasn’t even funny. Another woman in Sophia’s house? At two-twenty-three in the morning? Out of nowhere, the liquid courage running through his bloodstream told him to relax. Rebecca was just spending the night because of a mix-up at the hotel and that was the truth. A bit of a flirt maybe, she was harmless. He shut the fridge door and jumped when he found her standing on the other side. “Damn girl, you move like a cat.”
She meowed drunkenly and ran her red-painted claws down his muscular chest.
Paul popped the tops, handed her a bottle, and squeezed past into the living room, second-guessing his every move. This was beyond a bad idea. He felt like Sophia was watching him through the picture of them resting on the mantelpiece. Her beautiful green eyes – thinned by the bright Maui sun – now looked accusatory and threatening. He sat down on the couch and Rebecca plopped down next to him, invading his space with the sour smell of alcohol on her breath and a fresh dab of perfume on her neck. His eyes meandered over the plump mounds peeking out from her tank top, stirring the fire inside.
She rested a soft hand on his knee for balance and kicked off her heels before curling up next to him. “You have tomorrow off?”
“I do.” The warmth of her hand seeped through his jeans and into his flesh like acid.
“That’s so sad.” She shifted on the couch, discreetly moving her hand to the inside of his thigh. “All alone for the weekend.”
“I’ve got Netflix.”
Eyes glittering with heat, she took a slow drink and scanned the living room, investigating what type of woman had lured Paul into marriage.
“Kids?”
He pressed his lips together. “Not yet.”
“Trying?”
He exhaled a worn-out breath. “For awhile now.” Just the thought of it made him tired. He was a failure and making love with Sophia wasn’t about making love anymore; it was about making a baby. It was another chore to add to the list, right up there with shoveling and taking out the garbage. There were scheduled romps, ovulation tests, vitamins. She’d even tried to get him to stop drinking for a while and he had laughed out loud. Like this shit wasn’t hard enough already! And whenever he dared to throw out the adoption word, Sophia turned to ice like he was speaking in the Devil’s tongue. She was nowhere near ready to give up. Not yet.
“It took my sister, Joan, three years to get pregnant.”
His eyes snapped back to Rebecca, forehead creasing. “Three years?”
She nodded. “They tried everything too. It was really hard on her and Tyler.” She paused for a sip of beer. “How long have you been trying?”
Paul sighed before coming clean, embarrassed to even say. “Almost a year.”
“Oh, a year is nothing. It takes a lot of couples longer than a year to get knocked up.”
A low groan slipped past his lips.
Her eyes thinned. “Are you thinking of taking a break? Because that can sometimes jumpstart things down the road.”
He leaned his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “She will flip out if I take a break, but I feel like a lab rat.”
Rebecca clicked a red nail against the beer bottle in her hands, knees pressing against his leg. “How many times a day are you having sex?” she asked as if she were enquiring about his workout schedule.
Paul shifted uneasily on the couch and caught Sophia’s prying eyes on the mantle. It was just as wrong to answer as it was having Rebecca here in the first place and he damn well knew it. “Once or twice,” he lied, taking a long drink, head already buzzing from too many long drinks. The truth was he’d been avoiding Sophia in the bedroom, throwing out the usual excuses: Too tired, don’t feel well, have to get up early for work, etc.
Rebecca nodded quietly, studying his strong profile. “Have you tried doing it upside down?”
He choked when he swallowed and coughed into his hand. “Not yet, but let me write that down.”
She squeezed his thigh. “Don’t laugh! It worked for my sister.”
His eyes sobered. “Seriously?”
“Well, it was either that or the reverse cowgirl; they aren’t one hundred percent sure.”
His heart skipped a beat when her fingertips brushed against the bulge hiding inside his oily jeans. He scooted away. “Listen, Rebecca…” His words died when she pressed her soft lips against his. He watched her eyes fall shut and felt her tongue slither inside his mouth, her sweet saliva mixing with his. A flutter of butterflies launched in his stomach, her perfume casting a spell he could not shake. Paul broke their kiss when she squeezed his crotch.
Rebecca smiled, clearly pleased with his reaction. “Maybe you just need some more practice, Paul.”
Frozen somewhere between fear and pleasure, he watched her slowly unzip his jeans, helpless to stop her, heart racing as her hand disappeared inside. He inhaled a sharp breath when her warm fingers coiled around his erection.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my,” she whispered, pulling it out. “Somebody’s happy to see me.”
Paul swallowed against the lump in the back of his throat, hating himself for even having an erection let alone seeing it out of his pants. He tried to prevent her hand from pumping his dick but couldn’t move, paralyzed by her sweet strokes. Rebecca wet her lips, taking pride in the twisted look warping his face. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, adding to the dream-like state pulling him in. She flashed him an impish grin and tossed her hair over her shoulder before bending over into his lap.
Paul pushed her away. “I’m sorry,” he said, scrambling to his feet and zipping his jeans up. “But this is a bad idea.”
She stared at the throbbing bulge inside his pants, chewing on a pinkie. “Sometimes the best things come from bad ideas.”
His eyes roamed the room, mind racing. What had he done? He loved Sophia. Yet here he was with another woman, desecrating everything in the blink of an eye. Turning from his wife’s wounded gaze on the mantle, he pulled his cell phone from his jeans, desperate to go back in time and never do this again. But it was too late for that. There was no going back. There was only doing the right thing from here on out and it was obvious what he had to do first. He had to come clean with Sophia. There was no way around it because this dirty little secret would eat him alive from the inside out and that was no way to go through life.
Fuck!
His subconscious screamed at him over the rapid beating of his own heart.
What did you do? You idiot!
Paul could smell Rebecca on him and it turned his stomach. He needed to take a shower and burn his clothes but first he pressed the cell phone to his ear, ignoring Rebecca’s nonplussed stare as the phone took its sweet ass time starting to ring. Come on! He took a steadying breath, running endless combinations of words through his head to ease Sophia’s fall, none of which made a damn bit of sense. The phone kept ringing. She didn’t deserve this and things were about to change. This would forever taint their beautiful relationship, if not kill it completely. And for what? To boost his ego after failing to produce offspring like all the other normal men he knew? To prove he could still satisfy somebody in bed? A woman finally answered the goddamn phone and Paul spoke way too fast. “Yeah, I need a cab.”
Chapter Six
DAY SEVEN
Paul stood waiting for Sophia outside the dressing room of another store where he was the only male figure while she tried on a red negligee she swore would help get her pregnant. A pretty red head smiled at him as she restocked the clothing people left behind in the dressing rooms. Paul smiled back, stealing a look down her top when she bent over to retrieve a pair of jeans she dropped to the floor. She smiled again and let him keep the look. He turned away, disgusted with himself after what happened with Rebecca. It was easy to blame it on a temporary moment of weakness because it was true, but that didn’t make it right. It was also easy to scream when someone grabbed him from behind and bit into his neck. Paul brought down a rack of mini-skirts on his way to the tiled floor, everything moving in slow-motion. The heavyset mall cop landed on him with all of his weight, driving the air from Paul’s lungs. The rotting thing in a black uniform army crawled toward Paul’s face. Jaws snapped. Hands clawed. Blood flowed.
Paul woke up coughing with his hands wrapped around the imaginary wrists of a decaying mall cop. When his lungs finally opened, he drew in a sliver of breath and rubbed the nightmare from his eyes with both hands, only to open them again to find another one waiting in the wings. This one real. Sophia snuggled up closer to him under the blanket as daylight bravely crept through the farmhouse windows. He stared at the back of the couch, heart pounding in his chest. The thought of Rebecca made him sick to his stomach so he pushed it down and thought about something else. Exhaling a cold breath, he saw his mother’s bloodshot eyes pop open and take a newborn look at the ceiling as something else. Something no longer human. When those eyes turned to find him sitting in the rocking chair next to her bed, he wanted to run. These thoughts would never leave him alone and this morning they were at the front of the line. Paul could still see the anger wringing her face, smell the decay on her breath, feel her knock him to the ground. At the time, he had no idea how close he came to dying. They spent four agonizing days breathing in the smell of her rot and excrement, and after her merciful death it took less than two hours for her to return.
Two hours.
At that rate, they’d all be dead within a matter of days.
The handgun’s kick that sent a single bullet through her forehead haunted Paul’s right hand. He flexed it in the morning light. Initially, he thought that gruesome moment would plague him for the rest of his life – however short it may now be – but so many other atrocities had already replaced it. He wished he could go back to sleep but, in truth, there was nowhere to run. They always found him.
“Hey,” Sophia whispered, sending a warm hand under his coat and rubbing his stomach.
Brushing a loose lock of raven-colored hair from her cold cheek, Paul studied her almond-shaped eyes, seizing the moment to admire her natural beauty. Nothing was taken for granted anymore, especially waking up. “Morning, sunshine.”
The ghost of a grin tugged at her full lips. “We’re still alive.”
He kissed those lips, sparking a flash from the past where they could share a moment without anyone trying to kill them. “Still alive,” he whispered.
&nb
sp; “Did you get any sleep?”
He replied with a shallow nod, guessing he may have got four whole hours last night. “You?”
“Some.” Her fingers circled his belly button like water down a drain. “How far do you think we’ll get today?”
“Not far with the snow.”
She shivered under the blanket. “I can’t wait to shake this cold weather already.”
“Me too.”
“I like it hot.”
His eyebrows pulled together when her hand sinuously undid his jeans.
Sophia wet her lips, her green eyes glittering with heat. “Don’t you like it hot?” she asked, sending a hand beneath his layers.
“I do,” he replied, voice quivering as her fingers brushed against his dick.
“I knew it.”
“You’re crazy,” he mouthed, nodding to the couch.
She spread a playful grin and squeezed.
Paul sat up and peeked over the top of the couch, glancing at the others sleeping in the middle of the room. Lying back down, he cupped his wife’s cheek in his hand, breath coming faster as her hand rose and fell beneath the blanket. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, pressing his lips to hers.
They kissed hard, like there would be no tomorrow and for all they knew, there might not. The breath jutting from her nose was warm against his cheek. Blood rushed in his ears with each pump of her hand. Paul tried to be quiet when he yanked her jeans down but the layers beneath made that a difficult prospect. His heartbeat quickened when his fingers found the wet spot hiding between her legs. Sophia broke their kiss to gasp for air, pulling on his short brown hair and spreading her legs as he tuned her body to his wants and needs.
Paul rolled on top of her and she inhaled too loudly with his soft invasion. He cupped her mouth and went in deeper, making her body stiffen. Someone that sounded like Dan coughed, spurring Paul’s hips into action. It was only a matter of time before somebody looked over the back of the couch to make sure they were still alive. He bit his lip and held his breath, her muscles constricting around him. Sophia pushed his hand from her mouth and arched her back, tensing with the electric current running between them. Paul went faster and felt her nails dig into his back. Sophia grabbed his ass and pulled him in deeper, eyes watching his face twist. She was so beautiful, so warm. He grunted his release, filling her with pulsating bursts as their bodies curled into one. For a brief moment, time came to a standstill and their love for each other pushed the horror of their new reality into the far corners of the room. It was the only thing they had left. The only thing they’d taken with them.
A Little More Dead Page 3
