by L. A. Boruff
Kevin goes motionless.
Trembling, I shake his jaws off me. Then, cradling my arm against my chest, I collapse onto the bloody linoleum next to the two corpses. Hot tears blur my vision as I inspect my arm. The sliver of hope I have that his teeth didn’t break the skin goes up in smoke once I see the damage. Oh, no. I’m infected.
Sadness and shock give way to rage. “Goddamn you!” I scream at Kevin’s body. But it isn’t his fault. I’m the dumbass that didn’t anticipate him dying and reanimating so quickly.
Overwhelmed with emotion, I clench my engagement ring in my hand. It’s wet with blood. I furiously wipe it until it sparkles like it did when Logan first got down on one knee and presented it to me. Then I let out a hysterical sob.
It’s over now. I’ll never find Logan. I’ll never look into Logan’s charcoal eyes or run my hands through his soft brown hair. I’ll never give him a hard time about wearing sandals and shorts in the winter and he’ll never nag at me to lighten up. There never will be a wedding and we’ll never have the amazing wedding night he promised.
Burying my head in my hands I give myself over to the grief and heartbreak that comes with knowing my life is over.
2
Sophie
Outside the corner office window, dark rain clouds smother the fading sun. “Figures,” I mumble as I toast to my last sunset anyway. Four stories below, a dead man shambles down Main Street dragging his left arm behind him. Somehow he manages to avoid the overturned cars and debris in the weed-choked road.
Will I wander around like him when I’m a zombie?
I take a gulp of sherry from the miniature bottle I found inside the rustic oak desk ages ago. The sickly sweet liquid makes me gag and cough so hard I nearly fall off the squeaky leather office chair. I quickly glance at the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that separates my living space from the main office. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to close the vertical blinds so none of the other survivors see me with my contraband.
Tore had expressly forbidden anyone from drinking alcohol. “Drinking makes you stupid, and stupid makes you dead,” he’d repeatedly told us in his gruff no-nonsense voice.
Just thinking of the handsome leader of our survivor group makes my chest tighten with a mixture of emotions I don’t want to examine. Trying to push him out of my mind, I look down at the letters resting on the top of the desk. The letter I just finished is for my mom, not that she’ll ever see it.
If I could only turn back time, I would have driven with her to pick up Nana in Phoenix instead of staying in Saguaro Valley to work out the finishing touches of my wedding. How was I supposed to know that the canine flu vaccine would turn everyone into zombies?
In truth, I don’t know if Mom, Nana, or Logan are alive. The last time I saw my mom was the night before she left for Phoenix and the last time I saw Logan was the morning before his bachelor party months ago.
Logan had looked so handsome that day. His mink-brown hair was slightly tousled in that I-just-got-out-of-bed way, and he’d worn a rumpled T-shirt from some indie band I’d never heard of.
“I promise to be on my best behavior tonight,” he’d said giving me a dimpled smile.
“You don’t have to,” I’d said lowering my voice so the other patrons in the coffee shop wouldn’t overhear us.
His eyes widened in shock. “What are you saying?”
“It’s your bachelor party.” I’d fiddled with my paper napkin afraid to meet his gaze. “You should cut loose.”
“Cut loose?” He sounded slightly horrified.
“Would it be so wrong if we each had one night where we…um, experimented a little?” My cheeks felt as if they were on fire, but I wasn’t going to take back my words. Logan and I were about to commit to each other for the rest of our lives. He, like me, had to be curious about what intimacy would be like with other people. Like Xander and Jack, my wicked inner voice whispered. I wasn’t talking about having sex, but maybe playing around a little…
“Are you having second thoughts about marrying me?” he asked softly.
Maybe. I looked down at my engagement ring. It’d been Sophie and Logan since seventh grade when he’d asked me to the school dance by shooting a paper airplane note at my head. I loved him, but I didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry to get married. We hadn’t finished college or even saved enough money for a place of our own. We were going to have to shack up with his freaky mother, a woman I barely tolerated on the best of days.
“Sophie?” He reached across the small table and cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You love me, right?”
Once snared in those familiar gray eyes, my mind blanked and I forgot all about my reservations. “Forget what I said. It’s a terrible idea. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out.”
He smiled. “Missing out? Never. I’m crazy in love with you, woman.” Then he pulled me in for a deep kiss and that had been the end of that conversation. It’d also apparently been the last kiss I’d ever have.
Goodbye, Logan. I rest my hand on Logan’s letter. It sits on top of my notes to Jack and Xander. My heart throbs as their handsome faces flash in my mind. I’ll forever be grateful to them and Kevin for coming to protect me when the outbreak first hit.
Ah, Kevin. Regret claws at me. Maybe if I’d been quicker to warn him, he’d still be alive. Anguish clogs my throat as I rub the bite wound hidden under a bandage and my sweatshirt sleeve. It’s not fair. We’re way too young to die.
Tore’s gruff voice plays in my mind. “Life’s not fucking fair, angel. Remember death’s always waiting around the corner.”
I forgot that and now I’ll pay the price. Taking a shuddering breath, I move my hand from the letters to the loaded pistol sitting in the middle of the desk. Now that I’ve written my goodbyes, it’s time to die.
I slowly place the cold barrel of the gun in my mouth. Ignoring the bitter taste of metal and gun oil, I put my finger on the trigger. Wait. It would be incredibly shitty of me to make the other survivors deal with my dead body and infected blood. I need to go somewhere else to kill myself.
Releasing the breath I’m holding, I stand and stuff the gun into the waistband of my cleanest pair of jeans. It’s a bit ridiculous that I’ve taken the time to give myself a sponge bath and change out of my bloodstained clothes. But since I’m about to meet my maker and all, it probably doesn’t hurt to look my best.
I give one last look around the small office and open the door.
Tore stands on the other side his beefy fist raised in the air as if he’d been about to knock.
My skin grows warm as the tall, muscular, olive-skinned man stares down at me. Can he tell I’m infected? “What’s up?”
“I want to be sure you’re okay. I’m sorry about you losing your friend today.” As he speaks, a lock of chestnut hair falls over his heavy brows. My hands itch to stroke it back, but I wouldn’t dare touch him. No one touches Tore.
“Um…thanks.”
“The others have gone up to the roof. They're having a memorial for Kevin.” He motions above us. “You should go.”
So that’s why it’s so quiet in the office. I peer around Tore’s huge bicep and see that the rows of cubicles behind him are empty. Jack and Xander are probably up there with the others. I’m such a chickenshit for writing them a note instead of saying goodbye in person, but I don't think I can handle their pain along with mine. “Thanks. I’ll pass.”
Tore presses his lips together for a moment. “It’s important to mourn the people you care about. Take it from me.”
Who has he lost? I wonder as I search his beautiful dark eyes. The man is such an enigma. So harsh and menacing at times and so gentle and caring at other times. When I realize that Tore is waiting expectantly for me to say something, I say, “All the same, I’m going to sit this one out.”
An awkward silence stretches between us.
His gaze falls on the gun resting on my hip. “Are you going somewhere?�
��
“Yes.”
“You can’t leave by yourself,” he says as if I don’t know we are always supposed to travel in pairs.
My assigned partner is dead.
Kevin’s face flashes in my mind and a fresh wave of pain crashes over me. “It’s best for everyone if I do,” I mumble.
Suspicion floods his eyes. “You’re infected.” It’s a statement not a question.
My eyes burn as I try to keep my composure. “Yeah. Kevin bit me after he turned. It was my fault. I was so stupid.”
He stands stock still for a moment. “Are you sure you’re infected? Maybe his teeth didn’t break the skin?”
“I wish.” I let out a choked laugh. “I’m so kicking Kevin in the balls when I see him in the afterlife.” Assuming there is an afterlife.
Tore abruptly turns and slams his fist straight through the fabric cubicle wall behind him. “I warned you two not to go scavenging. But you didn’t listen. And now… And now…” It sounds as if he is gasping for air.
My mouth drops open in shock. In all the months I’ve known this man, I’ve never seen him lose control. Not even when a zombie horde invaded our last home and killed half our group.
When Tore finally turns to face me, his eyes are filled with darkness. “We can’t have an infected person in the building. You know I have to kill you.”
3
Tore
Sophie flinches at my words.
I fight the urge to unload my gun into the fucking ceiling. Maybe I’ll get lucky and hit one of those useless whining assholes that somehow glued themselves to my side at the beginning of the apocalypse. I’ll trade every single one of their lives for hers. She’s the only one that matters.
With her huge blue eyes and long ash-blond hair, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s also a dead ringer for the angel on the stained glass window of Saint Christopher’s Church. I grew up staring at that angel. Every Sunday morning, without fail, my mother marched me into the church and forced me to kneel on a hard wooden pew. She was hell-bent that I ask for forgiveness for the sins I hadn’t yet committed. Had my mother known what a monster I’d turn into?
Sophie taps the grip of her handgun bringing me back to the crisis at hand. “There’s no need for you to get blood on your hands. I’ve got it covered.”
She has no idea how bloody my hands are. Already my mind brims with possible ways to kill her. A bullet—too loud. It might attract more dead to our location and that’s the last thing we need. A knife—too painful. I want her death to be merciful. Deciding to snap her neck then stab her in the skull after she passes, I take a step forward.
She must see her death in my eyes. “Tore,” she pleads. Her breathless voice brings to mind images of sweaty bodies tangling in the night. For months I’ve been hoping that she’d stop burning the torch for that fiancé of hers and welcome me into her bed. But now that’s not going to happen. She’s going to die.
I clench my hands—hands that were responsible for taking the lives of so many people. Is that why this is happening to her? Is her death some retribution from God? The one time I let my guard down. The one time I let a woman in and poof the Almighty takes her. Or the devil. Who the fuck knows what’s really going on anymore?
Not her. Ah, fuck. Not her.
My angel wipes her tear-filled eyes and lifts her chin. She’s trying so hard to keep her shit together, the least I can do is the same.
“I didn’t want to put anyone in danger. I only came back to write some goodbyes.” She jabs her thumb back at the desk behind her. “If you could make sure that Jack and Xander get the letters, I’d appreciate it.”
I narrow my eyes at the mention of the two fuckers who actually believed they could keep Sophie alive on their own. If it weren’t for me, all of them would have died. The memory of coming across the four of them—Sophie, Kevin, Xander, and Jack—barricaded inside a Laundromat flashes in my mind. Their pitiful group was under attack by a relentless herd of zombies. I should’ve kept walking, but then I’d spotted Sophie standing in the middle of the men looking exactly like my angel from church. So I’d saved their lives and added them to my tribe. I’ve never regretted that act until this moment. If I hadn’t gotten to know Sophie, I would never have fallen for her and my heart wouldn’t be self-combusting right now.
“Tore?” Sophie says.
I realize I’ve zoned out again. “Yeah, I’ll make sure they get your letters.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
“Did you write me a letter?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
She nibbles her plump lower lip and shakes her head.
“So you weren’t even going to say goodbye?” A mixture of grief and outrage grip me. I march forward, forcing her to back up. We’re standing in the middle of her office by the time I realize I’m acting like a menacing bastard.
She stares at me with a flash of fear in her gaze. “I…um, didn’t know what to say to you.”
Of course she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t give a shit about me. My shoulders slump. “You could at least give me a heads-up. I care about you, you know. I don’t care about many people.” Most days I don’t even care about myself. If anyone deserves to die, it’s me.
She surprises the hell out of me by wrapping her arms around my waist. She smells of that lavender body wash she uses. “I care about you too, Tore. Thank you for saving my life all those months ago.”
I bury my face in her neck inhaling her sweet scent. “But I didn’t in the end, did I?” The tightness in my voice betrays me.
She pulls away and looks up at me. “You weren’t responsible for this. This was my fault. I forgot everything you taught me and—” she swallows hard “—and now I’ll die because of it.”
Before I can reply, she rises on the balls of her feet and kisses me on the cheek. It’s a quick peck, but the proximity to her makes me want things I can’t have.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she says in a husky voice.
I blink in surprise.
She smiles. “Since I’m dying and all, will you finally tell me what you really did before all this? And don’t just say ‘this and that’ like you always do.”
Ah, what the fuck. If it’s her dying wish to know, I should tell her. “I worked for the family.” I don’t tell her which family. Based on her expression, I don’t have to.
Her brows draw together. “What? Like the mafia?”
Exactly like the mafia. “Yeah.”
She chuckles and shakes her head.
The fact that she doesn’t run from the room surprises me. I’m not proud of my past, but it sure prepared me for the shit show the world has become.
Her blue eyes dance with an inner light that drags me in. “Do me a favor, okay?”
“Depends,” is my bullshit response. I’ll do anything for her. Anything.
“Tell Xander he wins the bet.”
Xander? Is he the linebacker or the one that looks like Bruce Lee with a Mohawk? “What bet?”
She laughs again. “We bet on you. What you did before the apocalypse. I thought you were a cop. Xander said you were a wise guy. He wins.”
Stunned, I can only stare at her. “You thought I was one of the good guys?”
“Yeah.” She licks her lips and my cock hardens. “I still think you’re a good guy. If you hadn’t taken us under your wing, we all would’ve died out there.”
She has no idea the kind of man I am. “Do you know why I let your little band of losers stay with me?”
“Because you were feeling charitable.” She rubs her hands nervously on her jeans drawing my attention to the way the tattered denim molds to the mouthwatering curves of her hips and ass.
Lust fogs my mind. “Hardly. It was because you were so goddamn beautiful.” I take a few steps closer, until I’ve all but backed her into the front of the desk. I lower my head to her ear and whisper, “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.�
��
She shivers and wets her lips. “You did?”
“I still do.” I put my hands on her hips and lower my head to kiss her.
She inhales sharply and turns her head before I can claim her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“I want to fuck you before you die,” I answer honestly.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I’m engaged.”
As if that matters now. “Don’t you want to know what it would be like between us? I promise I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.” I boldly press her against me. There is no mistaking my intent, or my raging hard-on.
She jerks away like a skittish colt.
No way. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”
Her eyes drop to her feet. “Of course not.” She’s never been good at lying.
I feel as if I’ve been coldcocked. “Not possible. All you ever talk about is that perfect fiancé of yours.”
She blushes. “Logan wanted to wait until we were married.”
“Your fiancé was a fool. What kind of man wouldn’t fuck you until his eyes crossed every chance he got?”
“He had his reasons,” she says in a small voice that tells me I hit a sore spot.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”
She pushes me away. “Don’t say that. Logan's out there. I know it.”
The pain in her eyes cuts me like a stiletto knife. She knows the guy is gone, but she won’t accept it. “It doesn’t matter. Your time is up. Do you really want to die a virgin?” I lean in and brush my mouth against her ear.
She gasps.
My dick is so hard it feels as if it’s going to punch a hole in my jeans. I have to have her. “Don’t you want to know what it would be like?” I can’t be the only one that notices the chemistry between us.
She shakes her head, but there are conflicting emotions playing across her face.
Wanting to tip the scales in my direction, I slide my hand up her sweatshirt.
