Becki was watching me. She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Trinity, we all know how sexy Gerik is.”
Her correct assessment of my thoughts embarrassed me, but Gerik hadn’t been paying her any attention. As usual, his focus was solely on me.
“Do my braids, yeah?” He held out his ponytail holders.
My giggles turned into full-on hysterics. Gerik always wore his hair in two long braids that hung down his chest, making him look even more the part of the Viking warrior. I patted my bed. “Come, Viking. I’ll plait yer hair before ye go off to battle.”
Still grinning, Gerik grabbed the corner of my old red quilt and with one quick tug, yanked it off me. I shrieked and lunged for my covers, managing to keep the sheet over my legs.
“Ugh!” Still in her pajamas, Becki jumped out of bed and shot us a disgusted look. “It’s a little early for the mushy stuff. I’m out.”
The screen door slammed hard behind her as she stormed out.
Gerik and I exchanged confused glances. Since I’d arrived in camp, Becki hadn’t been a gracious morning person, but she’d never been outright mean.
I scooted closer to him when he sat down, taking the beaded ponytail holders from his hand. The sheet that was still covering me slipped down my legs. I followed his gaze to my underwear and exposed thighs.
The air in the trailer grew hotter, heavy and thick with anticipation. I knew without having to look that Gerik’s eyes had turned gray.
Gerik made me tremble with want; he could make me forget everything around me except for him. Even without the knowledge that Gypsies still roamed the earth and that magic truly did exist in our world, I would have felt the power in this man.
He was a force of nature and muddled my brain with energy the likes of which I’d never felt before. He zapped my body of will and strength just by being near me. Gerik was the stuff gods and goddesses were made of. Only…a Viking god. Well, actually a Gypsy god, but tomāto, tomäto.
His hands slid up my sheet-covered calves, the material of the sheets thin enough for me to still feel the rough and calloused skin on his fingers, caused by years of physical labor. The kind of labor you didn’t see in the world I had been accustomed to.
I couldn’t stop the shiver that tore through me in appreciation of his masculinity.
Gerik was strength incarnate; it showed in how he carried himself, how he spoke, and now in how he was deliberately, oh so slowly and very neatly, sending me down a path he knew I wasn’t ready to travel.
I pushed at his chest. “Stop,” I whispered hoarsely.
Gods, he was just too much, too intense for someone as inexperienced as me.
His voice was a deep rumble in his chest when he asked, “Is that what you really want?”
I was breathing heavily, our lips nearly touching, his hands now gripping my sheet-covered knees. It was a sliver of sanity he had allowed me to keep; one I was thankful for. If Gerik touched me, skin on skin, I would be los—”
“Gerik!” I gasped as he gripped my naked thighs. Roughly pulling me underneath him, he was suddenly situated over top of me.
Heat flooded me as his hand slid under my T-shirt to wrap around my waist. Everywhere he wasn’t touching began to quiver with need.
Gerik and I had this crazy chemical reaction to each other, something I’m sure scientists would have loved to have gotten their hands on and studied until there was nothing left of us but blood and guts, if that.
We were like the line in that ridiculous song, “Just one look, that’s all it took.” Except in my case it was, “Just one touch, and Trinity turned to mush.”
“Tell me to stop, Trinity. Tell me to stop right now…and I will.”
He ran his lips across my cheek, then down my neck where he sucked softly, and my body involuntarily clenched. Gods, he was such a liar.
My skin tingled, my limbs trembled, and my body’s sensitivity heightened to unbearable levels as the fever of his touch raced through me. I couldn’t tell him to stop because I couldn’t speak. I was so desperate for him, so focused on the completion of our joining and how magnificent it would be.
Gerik wasn’t playing fair at all; once he touched me, he knew I was lost to a world of sensation, where only feelings ruled. Awareness of the outside world was sucked away to a teeny, tiny part in the back of my brain that I could barely reach.
Stop! Stop! I thought over and over again. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t the way I had imagined losing my virginity. Not in a haze of magic and desperation.
As if he’d heard my silent plea, he released me. I scooted back until my butt hit the canvas.
“Trinity…” His voice was so ragged, so full of hunger, full of everything a girl would want to hear from a man. “I didn’t mean…”
“Save it,” I snapped, trying to shake the haze of lust that, to my embarrassment, so easily consumed me in his presence. He stared at me for a moment, then in a quick singular movement reminding me of an acrobat, jumped off my bed.
“You touched me,” I accused, trying to right my clothing. “Skin on skin. We made a deal, Gerik. We would only do that if we prepared each other. Which,” I gave him a deliberate look, “you definitely did not.”
He didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. He stood there in all his Viking glory, looking as proud and as indifferent as ever. If it weren’t for his refusal to meet my eyes, I wouldn’t have known he was feeling anything at all.
“It wasn’t a conscious thing, yeah? I got…caught up. Don’t freak out.” He ran his hand through his wet hair and headed for the door.
“Gerik?” I called. “Do you think that maybe someone could fix us?” I braced myself for his anger. It always surfaced when I brought this up.
He took a deep breath before answering. “There’s nothing wrong with us.”
“But…it’s magic. It has to be.”
“Trinity,” he said, turning to face me. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that no one cast a spell on us. There are no witches casting love spells like in your Greek stories. And before you even suggest it again, there are no fairies either. The magic the Romani possess is ancient and was gifted to our people by nature. It isn’t something that is thrown around for silly little things like love or lust spells, but that’s all I can tell you about it, my little Gaje princess. You know the rules.”
Yes, I knew them. Being a Gaje, a non-Gypsy, I wasn’t privy to the Roma secrets, the origins of their magic or their true history, unless I was allowed to marry into the clan, something that could only happen if I cut my ties with the Gaje world completely and a council of elders deemed me worthy. Then a ceremony that consisted of purging my Gaje blood would be performed, all before the marriage could even occur.
According to their laws, it was forbidden for me to even live here. But an apocalypse changed everything.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Stupid rules.”
He shrugged. “They have protected my people for centuries.”
“Fine, whatever. You go on protecting your Viking sex hoodoo and keep me in the dark.”
“I’m not purposely keeping you in the…” He paused and his eyebrows rose. “Did you say Viking sex hoodoo?”
I narrowed my eyes and snarled. “Don’t make fun of me!”
“So, what you’re saying is, no one is actually attracted to me, hmm?” He grinned. “They only want me for my longship and my battle-ax skills, yeah?”
I couldn’t look at him when he started flirting with me; it was nearly as bad as his touching me. I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “You are such a guy.”
“You want me too, Trinity,” he said softly. “And don’t pretend it’s magic.”
I couldn’t share the sentiment. “Shoo.” I waved him away. “I need to get dressed.”
Sneak peek of:
Dead: The Ugly Beginning.
(The DEAD series)
By
TW Brown
Copyright © TW Brown
One
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I ain’t no hero. I never thought of being one. When I was young, I didn’t dream about being a police or fireman. I never considered joining the military, even after 9-11 when so many others my age flocked to the recruiter’s office.
Hell, I was the guy who picked a desk in the middle of the classroom on the first day of school when all the Brains rushed for front row seats and the Jocks and Stoners roamed to the back. I didn’t play sports, at least not in any organized way. When sides were chosen (even if it was just a pick-up game with my buddies), I was pointed out someplace in the middle. Sometimes I would pull off a play in football, basketball, kickball…whatever, which was only amazing because it was me doing it.
I had my share of girlfriends. I lost my virginity my senior year. On prom night. To a girl who played flute in the high school marching band. Her name was Kerri or Kathy…or Kari or Cathy.
So you’re starting to get the point. Right?
I worked in an office complex after I graduated college …B minus GPA. Never married, but I was engaged a few times. My one bedroom apartment was small, but it suited me and my dog just fine. Well, that was until the horror movies jumped off the screen and landed right in the middle of an atypically un-believing real world.
Some of the stuff about zombies proved to be true.
Some not.
Most of how humanity was predicted to act was drastically underestimated. The best. The worst. Sometimes I wonder how in the hell we’ve survived as a species.
That will likely be answered definitively sooner than I would like.
It may seem corny, but no one I’ve met since it began can give me a solid answer as to how it all rolled into motion. Sure, there are theories: Government Bio-weapon gone awry; Super-virus; alien particles from space; demons from Hell; and global warming. Each gets equal billing when you hear the topic come up. Maybe it’s a mix of all of the above. Or, maybe God got tired of us messing up his toy. And if you don’t believe in God…well then you can refer back to the list and pick your favorite. Honestly, I don’t give a damn. I’m too tired from running. How I ended up leading a band of survivors in this Romero-Hell is my new reality. The time for blame has long passed.
Since things began, I’ve seen…we’ve all seen…things best forgotten. Yet, I, as well as anybody still alive, know that forgetting is impossible. The best you can hope for now is sleep without the nightmares coming back to refresh those images you desperately try to shove into a hard to reach spot in your mind. There are some things that the movies missed, or could not accurately convey. The biggest would be the smell; that, and the psychological toll of hearing a person scream as they are ripped apart and fed upon.
***
“…seem to see no pattern in what is being called The Blue Plague, due to the discoloration common in the final stages where it is theorized that the body is starved for oxygen.”
Click.
“SARS. West Nile. Crap. What’s next?” I turned off the television and tossed the remote onto a stack of unread magazines scattered across my coffee table.
Pluck, my Basset Hound, twitched a big, floppy ear and closed his eyes in disinterest. I scratched him behind one of those ears, earning a contented doggie sound.
I got off the couch and made one of those habitual trips to the fridge. I popped it open knowing deep down that I didn’t really want anything. A thud from the living room signaled that Pluck was on his way, just in case I might produce some tasty treat that would undoubtedly be shared. I’m pretty sure Pavlov’s dogs are hidden somewhere in Pluck’s family tree.
As is often the case when I’m about to make a major life choice, this one being leftover Chinese take-out, or last night’s pizza, the phone rang. I passed Pluck just as his paws smacked the linoleum with a scrabble of clicking claws that were in dire need of trimming. His exasperated huff caused his thick jowls to flutter.
“Yeah?” No need for formality since I could see Bill Wright, a friend of mine’s name, in the caller ID on my phone.
“Steve, are you watching this?” My friend Bill was naturally excitable, but something in his voice was off.
“Is this sports related?” I made no attempt to hide how totally not interested I was. “Unless it involves a female gymnast losing some or all of her outfit—”
“Turn to Channel Seven now!”
The near-hysterical timbre in his voice had me grabbing my remote before I realized it. I punched the buttons with my thumb. The green volume bar inched across the bottom of my screen as I tried to comprehend what I was seeing.
“…of the local police force along with a detachment from the National Guard have set up around the town’s perimeter. No contact has been established with any of the residents up to this point. Reports from the air indicate that it is unlikely that any survivors exist.”
The buzzing in my ear reminded me that I was still on the phone with Bill. Also, my arm remained extended towards the television. My hand was empty because, at some point, I had dropped the remote.
“Another 9-11?” I felt my chest tighten.
“I don’t think so,” Bill said. I could hear his keyboard rattling in the background. “This shit is all over the place. And not just in our country. It’s global!”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Straight-up horror movie shit!”
“Uh-huh.” My enthusiasm and interest began to recede quickly.
“Dude, I’m totally serious! Packs of crazed people are going on rampages and just tearing people apart. YouTube already has like a thousand postings under “Zombie Attack” that show some twisted stuff. At least it did until the site locked up and crashed.”
“So you’re telling me that zombies are out there going all George Romero on the unsuspecting citizens of the world?” I was still watching my now muted television while sitting on my coffee table rubbing Pluck’s head as it rested on my knee. It wasn’t showing me any zombies, just a talking head and a caption that read: Possible Small Town Epidemic.
“If you saw any of these clips, you’d be grabbin’ a gun and headin’ to the nearest shopping mall!”
No, I didn’t believe Bill in the slightest. That was mostly due to the hours he, I, and others spent imagining just such a scenario; usually after viewing any of the Dead flicks. Take your pick…Night, Dawn, Day, Land. Original. Remake. We’d seen them all enough to recite lines like Rocky Horror fans. It always led to the “what if” conversation.
One of the oldest, most overused sayings is, “Be careful what you ask for…” You know the rest. So, I did what anybody else would do if their friend called to say that the zombies were coming. I hung up.
***
Sometimes you will see something in life that makes you say or think, “That’s just like that movie….” Or, if you’re the literary type, it could be in a book. I’ve read or seen lots of ‘zombie-esque’ stuff over the years. I always thought it would be so cool. Of course, I’d never go into that dark place that so many fall prey to. Plus, those zombies move so slow…at least until the British influence brought on the sprinting zombie. Man, am I glad they got that wrong.
***
I went to bed watching Talk Show with Spike Ferensten. Overall, a normal Saturday night for me. Ironically, it was the utter darkness that woke me.
My eyes opened to that total blackness that modern man had grown so unaccustomed to experiencing. The first moments were disorienting. Usually there is a blue glow that filters through my curtains from a car rental place that casts its light on my closet door. I live near the airport, so I can count on two fingers the number of times I’ve lost power. Both times were due to terrible ice storms.
It was late April.
In the distance I heard sirens. That is nothing unusual near the airport at any time of day or night. So, I closed my eyes with the intention of going back to sleep. An unfamiliar growl signaled the change in my world…I just didn’t realize how drastic at that particular moment.
The growl changed re
gister. Suddenly, my droopy-faced, foot-warmer of a dog began barking furiously. There was no mistaking the message.
Danger!
I climbed out of the covers and tried to creep to my bedroom doorway. If there was a creaky board in the floor that I missed, I’d be shocked. I peeked down the hallway. My front door was in a direct line of sight, and on the right was my living room window with the curtains closed. Through an arch on the left would be my kitchen and a much smaller window. My apartment was on the second floor and in the corner of the small thirty-unit complex. Usually, at night, the big lit sign from the luxury hotel across the street shone brightly in my living room; even through closed curtains.
Not tonight.
“Pluck!” I whispered.
I could see his dark shape, barely discernable against my front door in the blackness. The shape moved and was at my feet pushing against me with its bulky head. I reached down to scratch behind his ears and noticed that Pluck’s hackles were standing straight on end.
“What the hell?”
That was all I managed before something outside brushed up against my front door. In a flash, my normally docile companion was lunging towards the door barking furiously. Not thinking, I ran after him yelling his name and that he quiet down.
Odium II: The Dead Saga Page 34
