by Cerys du Lys
I wanted it so badly it hurt. Unlike physical pain, this pain wasn't dulled.
Dumbfounded, scared and panicked, eyes wide and fearful, I watched as Evan scrambled up the tree easily and leaped onto the top of the wall. He sat down next to me, legs dangling over the sides, while the others below us tried to grab his feet.
"Whew!" he said. "That was close."
"What happened?" I asked, staring at him. I didn't understand any of this.
"Oh. Thanks for that. I must have kind of popped my shoulder out of place a little when I caught you before. Nothing too bad, just really painful if you don't let it fix itself. I could have done it if I had some time, but, you know?" He offered a curt nod to the ground and the others snatching for his boots. "Your way was much quicker."
"Oh," I said. "You're welcome."
Evan grabbed his crossbow and quiver and strapped them to his back again, then twisted around and jumped off the wall into the alleyway below. Standing patiently and waiting for me, he held out his arms as if to catch me.
"I'm not letting you catch me," I said.
He laughed. "That might be for the best."
I jumped fine and landed beside him.
"Do you have a place to stay?" he asked.
I blinked at him, eyes hazy. "What do you mean?"
"I don't actually know how that works. I assume you go somewhere for the night, though? Or just whenever? I'm not sure. Do you have a home or, uh... do you wander around the city?"
"Oh," I said. "Yes. There's a house outside the city in the forest. It's off a side road. I usually go there. It's not too far away and it's quiet and nice. I..." I paused because I didn't want to say this to him, but I knew I had to. "I should go now, then. It was nice meeting—"
He stopped me. "I'll walk you home." Taking my hand in his, offering me his warmth once more, he smiled. "It's the least I can do, right?"
...
After sneaking through the city and leaving by way of one of the back roads, Evan and I walked easily the rest of the way to my home. My home, I thought. I was going to show it to him, but I hadn't expected to ever show it to anyone.
It wasn't truly mine, either. I'd claimed it, as it was, though who knew if the previous owners cared too much. I hadn't seen them—or anyone—in the few months that I'd stayed there.
The driveway was long and winding; hardpacked dirt surrounded on either side by trees. At the end, in a clearing, was the house and the yard. Whoever lived here before probably liked their privacy, and I liked mine, too. I never really went into the yard, but it was nice, with a fenced in section in the back and a more open space in the front and sides. A big place, but not in the grand scheme of things. Just a small cutaway section in the middle of nowhere, nothing that would ever really catch someone's eye.
Or so I thought.
"Wow," Evan said. We walked side by side, holding hands, arms swaying back and forth. "How did you find this place? Was it yours before?"
"No," I said. "They abandoned it. I don't remember how I found it."
"You don't remember?"
Halfway down the driveway, only a little more to go. I thought maybe I should've ignored his question and changed the subject, but the words came out of my mouth, unbidden.
"I think it's this way for everyone," I said. "Everyone like me; the zombies. We get lost. I don't know how to explain it besides that. Almost all the time I feel lost and alone and confused, like I should be going somewhere, but I don't know where to go. I wander a lot because of that. Just kind of in a daze, you know? I walked out of the city one day into the woods and then I ended up here."
We reached the end of the driveway, walking the last few steps in silence. I started to head for the stairs up a tiny hill that led to the front porch and door, but Evan stopped me. Pulling me back to him, squeezing my hand, he said. "You're not a zombie, Sadie."
"I know you're trying to act kind," I said, taking my hand away; feeling sad when he let me go. "I am, though. I don't have a heartbeat anymore. I've tried to feel it before, but I can't find it. I'm dead, Evan. I don't know how to tell you that and I don't want to be that, but that's what I am."
"Let me try," he said.
"What?"
"I don't think you're dead. Let me see if I can find your pulse."
I furrowed my brow at him, harrumphing, but decided to give in. Shoving my arm out towards him, palm upraised, I said, "Go ahead, but you won't find anything."
His blazing fingers wrapped around my wrist. Resting his thumb on the outer part of my upturned hand, he went about proving me right. I stood there, watching him, knowing I shouldn't get my hopes up but wondering if maybe I was wrong. I knew I wasn't, though.
I breathed in and out, and still nothing. Evan waited patiently for a few seconds, shifting his thumb a little this way and that, but I recognized that look on his face. He hadn't found anything either and would soon need to accept what I'd told him.
He frowned, looking from my wrist to my face, ready to speak, but then he hesitated. His eyes lit up, a smile on his face, and he shook his head fast.
"No," he said.
"No what?" I asked. "What are you saying?"
I sounded desperate, I knew it, but I needed him to say something more than "No." What did he mean? Why did he look excited? What was going on?
"It's faint. A little weak, but I can feel it. Your pulse is very low, though. That's probably why you're body temp is lower. I can't say with absolute certainty, but I think it's maybe six or seven beats per minute."
"I don't believe you," I said. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to cry and hug him and tell him he was the only person who'd given me any hope in such a very long time, but I couldn't. If I believed him, I knew it would only hurt me more when I realized the truth later.
"Here," he said. "I'll show you."
"I appreciate the nice lie," I said, gazing off into the trees while he took my other hand and placed my fingers on my wrist. "I think it's nice of you to do that and I don't hate you for it, but you can tell me the truth. We're both adults here."
My fingers lay on my wrist, motionless. Everything was motionless. I had no pulse, no heartbeat. Maybe I had no heart? What if that's what happened? Four chambers in my chest, shriveling up inside me, transforming into nothing more than a hardened lump of muscle.
A throbbing bump.
My eyes widened and I stared at my wrist. It had taken awhile, but I felt something.
Evan laughed, excited. "See?"
"It was a mistake," I said. "Let me feel more."
He nodded and moved close to me, resting his hands on my forearms by my elbow. I felt glistening, warm, and giddy. Maybe ten seconds or so later, I felt it again.
Bump!
I laughed. I wanted to jump around and dance and scream at the sky, but instead I grabbed Evan and kissed him. I didn't know where that came from, except maybe I needed to because he was the only person around? Was that all, though?
A flood of emotion swelled through me as our lips touched. I felt alive and healthy, warm and pulsating. I wasn't dancing, I was kissing, but my body couldn't quite tell the difference at the moment. Some quivering cadence of molten fire surged through me.
I nearly passed out from the raw feeling of it. Overwhelmed, the warmth crashed into me and made me shaky on my feet. I teetered from side to side in a strange, intoxicated state, and would have fallen if Evan hadn't caught me. The warmth of his fingers was softer than the heat of his lips and it leveled me to a more balanced state of pleasure.
I stared at him. He looked at me, concerned, but not too much. Happy, yes, and worried, and curious. I liked Evan. He seemed like a nice person.
"Do you want to come in?" I asked.
...
I shouldn't have invited anyone into my house, because I never cleaned it. Not to say it was horribly dirty, but it wasn't in the best of shape before I arrived, and I'd done nothing to fix it up afterwards, either. I used the kitchen for the bowls, spoons, the microwave,
and a can opener, then the bedroom for the bed and the bookcase, and that was about it.
We stumbled inside, tripping over a clutter of jackets laying on the ground near the coat closet.
"It's nothing fancy," I said. "I should clean more, but it's difficult to remember to."
"This is a really nice house," he said, awed. "I love it. I used to live with another guy before everything happened, so I don't mind the clutter too much. It's not even that bad to be honest."
"I try to take out the trash at the very least," I said. Why was I telling him this? I sounded like some dirty loser. "I don't eat much, though. I get full really fast. I think that's a part of this? I'm not sure."
Evan nodded, listening, peering around my home. He moved past me and walked into the dining area with the open kitchen to the right. There was a living room off to the left, open as well, then a glass door in front of us leading to a porch and the backyard.
"This is nice," he said, removing his crossbow and quiver from his back and tucking them into a corner of the living room. "Too bad that huge TV doesn't work."
I laughed. "It does work, actually, but I don't use it. There's nothing ever on."
"Huh?" he asked.
"Look. Come here." Pointing the way through the rear glass door, I showed him the generator hidden near the back side of the house. "I fill it with gas from a nearby gas station. It's been running fine since I came. I try not to use it often, though, because I don't know how long it'll last. I love it, though. It's not much, but..."
"What?" he asked. "It's alright. You can tell me if you want. I won't think it's strange."
I laughed because that was exactly what I'd been thinking. Strange, Sadie. Why are you telling this man you've just met about all the terrible things that are wrong with you? I was kind of surprised he hadn't run away screaming yet.
"I turn it on for a few minutes every couple of days to use the microwave," I whispered. "I heat up a can of beans or soup or whatever I can find while I'm out and about—" Oh, yes, out and about. Like I was just heading to the store to do some weekly shopping. "It really helps. I know it's dumb, but when I eat hot food, I feel normal for a little while. I don't know how long, but it helps."
I felt so emotional and stunted, like I was some shriveled plant begging a gardener to water me. Except I wasn't a nice plant like a rose bush, nor a useful plant like a tomato vine. I wasn't even common grass. I was some hideous weed that everyone wanted to get rid of, to toss out, except if you didn't do it properly I'd just grow back and piss you off even more. I didn't want to do that, I didn't want to annoy anyone and continue growing where I didn't belong, but I didn't have any other choice, either.
"It's probably been a long day for you, huh?" Evan asked. "You're probably tired."
This was it. He was going to pluck me up and toss me out, make some excuse for me to go to bed and then leave me alone.
"I'm not too tired," I said, praying I didn't sound desperate. I knew I did, but I didn't want to.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
I wished I was. "I ate yesterday."
"Ah. Right."
"My bedroom's over here," I said. "I'll probably lay down for a little while. I'm sure I'll feel better when I get up."
A lie, of course. He probably knew that, but I offered him the escape anyways. There wasn't anything wrong with leaving while I slept, since that's what most people did. An easy out, a way for him to go, and that was that. I stumbled towards the bedroom, feeling the remnants of his touch—his heat—fading away from me.
He didn't follow me like I knew he wouldn't. Down the hallway off to the side of the living room, past the stairs to the second floor, then into the master bedroom. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Shambling towards the bed, only a few feet more, I fell onto it. My face hit the blanket-covered mattress and I bounced up and down once before settling into place.
I closed my eyes. Maybe I should sleep like this? Why not? Who cared? When I woke up, I'd be dizzy and disoriented, unsure what was going on, so it hardly mattered. Sometimes it took me an hour to push away the haze and realize somewhat about where I was and what had happened, though other times it came faster.
The bedroom door opened, then clicked shut, and footsteps approached me while I stared at the blankets.
"What," I said, voice muffled by fleece.
"I'm kind of tired, myself," Evan said. "I didn't want to intrude in the rest of the house, so I thought I'd come in here. If you don't mind lending me a pillow, maybe I could sleep on your floor? A blanket would be nice, but I don't need one."
I spun around fast, laying on my back, and lifted my head up to look at him. "What?"
"I can leave if—"
"No, it's alright. You don't have to sleep on the floor. It's a big bed. I don't know if there's anymore blankets, so we can share one." My eyes darted towards the closed closet by the bedroom door where there were shelves filled with blankets.
Evan laughed. "If that's alright. I don't want to bother you."
"It's not a bother," I said, sitting up. I felt colder now, but the prospect of his warm body beneath the blanket with me gave me hope and promise of feeling nicer soon.
"I..."
"Yes?" I asked, shifting around the bed, fixing things, making it look nice and presentable. I turned down one corner and patted that side, beckoning Evan over.
"I don't want to sound perverted," he said. "I was thinking, though. If you're alright with it, maybe we could sleep naked?"
I blinked. "Um?"
Flustered, he let out a laugh and scratched his head. "Yeah... that came out wrong. I meant that, well, you like the feeling of warmth, right? I'm not trying to pressure or coerce you into this, and I swear I'll be a gentleman, but like I mentioned, I used to be an EMT, and it's a common survival tactic for people trapped in cold weather. I'm sure you're fine, but I thought it might help. We don't have to if you don't want to."
"Alright," I said. Shimmying to the edge of the bed, I grabbed the skirt of my dress and started lifting it up my legs.
"Alright what?" Evan asked.
The dress slid up my body, past my stomach, and I grabbed the sides and lifted it up the rest of the way off. Sitting on the bed in my bra and panties, I looked at him.
"We can do what you said," I said, pulling off my shoes and socks.
"Oh."
I scooted under the bed, hiding beneath the blankets, then pulled off my panties and unclasped my bra. I tossed both undergarments onto the floor with my dress.
Evan stood stockstill, staring at me.
"What?" I asked.
He laughed. "Oh. Right. I hope I didn't come across as odd, that's all."
"No." I shook my head. I didn't want to say more because I didn't want to scare him off.
Evan began undressing. I watched him, savoring it. He unbuttoned the front of his shirt and then slipped his arms out of the sleeves. Letting his shirt fall to the ground, he started unbuckling his belt. Unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, he let them fall to his ankles, too. He kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants.
It wasn't exactly the most erotic thing, but I couldn't stop looking at him. He stood in the middle of my bedroom near the foot of my bed wearing only his boxers. Slightly tented in the front, I saw a faint glimpse of his half-erect cock peeking through the slit in the front of his underwear.
Ignoring me, or not noticing me ogling him, Evan rushed to the other side of the bed, lifted up the blankets, and slipped under. Mesmerized, I watched his cock bounce beneath his underwear as he ran over.
He fidgeted under the blankets until he managed to remove his boxers, then tossed them off to the side.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked.
I laughed. "I don't know. I thought you were the professional."
I turned to look at him and he shrugged, relaxing. "Right," he said. "I think the best way is to spoon. So just—"
I inched towards him beneath the covers and he came to me
et me halfway. Huddled under the blankets in the middle of the bed, we joined together in some awkward display of fidgeting and fixing this, figuring things out, moving here and there.
I faced away from him and he slowly approached me. His hand touched my hip. I let out a gasp at the heat of it.
"I'll go slow," he said.
Gently, carefully, we came together. Evan pressed towards me, easing me into the sensation of warmth infringing upon my previously cool exterior. His hand touched my back, igniting sparks on my skin. I arched towards him, biting my lower lip. I doubted he had this in mind when he'd suggested we do this, but I couldn't help it.
Evan's chest pressed against my back. Slow at first, barely grazing my skin, soothing and nice, then moving more until we lay tight together. His hand on my hip moved forwards, unsure, until he touched against my taut stomach. I breathed in sharply, exhilarated at his warmth, but not wanting to tell him for fear he'd run away from me.
What would I say, anyways? Oh, yes, I really like this. I mean I really like it. I'd already said enough to scare him off, but he stayed, and I refused to risk it by saying more needless things.
Evan wrapped one leg around mine, holding me close. He seemed careful and delicate, not wanting to push this over the edge towards obvious impoliteness. I understood and I tried to act the same, but it was difficult.
It wasn't difficult because of his chest pressed against my back or his hand touching my side and holding my stomach. Nor was it difficult because of his chin near my shoulders or his leg tangled with mine.
No, none of that. His cock was still semi-hard and no matter how much he tried to inch the center of his body away from me, I could feel the heat of it touching against my butt.
"What's wrong?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what was wrong. I twisted in his arms, looking over my shoulder at him.
"Sorry," Evan said, giving me a sheepish grin. "I swear I'm not trying to come on to you here. Down there. You know? It'll die down. Just a natural reaction. I'm really sorry about that."
