by Maya Riley
We remained in the same position, listening for any signs of a threat in the soundless night. Time ticked on. I shifted a bit, finding a more comfortable position that wouldn’t result in any limbs falling asleep.
“You can go to sleep if you can. I’m fully awake, and good with keeping watch for a lot longer.”
“If I can fall asleep, then I will.” I tilted my head up, knocking his forehead off mine in the process. “But right now, I don’t want to.”
My head turned slightly so that my cheek was resting against him. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. I moved my hand up and rested against his chest, feeling the gradually increasing heartbeat thumping underneath my palm.
He leaned down and placed his lips on mine. It was sweet and chaste. His hand wrapped over mine on his chest, and his other fingers reached up to cradle my neck, with his thumb resting against my jaw. I returned the kiss and he stroked my face, his calloused thumb brushing against my skin. His fingers tightened in the hair that fell past the base of my neck, pulling me closer against him.
My knee moved of its own accord and rubbed against his thigh. He traced a finger from my jaw, down my neck, and across my collarbone, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
I shuddered as Mateo’s hand tightened over mine and he pulled me closer. Our kisses became more passionate, fueled by all the days and weeks spent suppressing our emotions in favor of stubbornness and better timing, which we risked never seeing as we continued to barely survive each day.
The kisses turned softer, hitting my lips with an increasing lightness, until he stopped altogether.
He pulled his face away and I opened my eyes. Faint moonlight glowed through the window, barely enough to light up a portion of his face. His single eye gazed back at me, a deep wooded brown that shone brighter than I’d ever seen it.
Carefully, I reached a hand up to his face and rested it on his cheek. My fingertips were right below the band that held his eye patch in place.
He watched me, observing every one of my expressions with a tinge of worry. I had a feeling that what I found beneath wouldn’t faze me, but I wanted to see the man beneath the patch only when he was ready. Instead, I leaned forward slightly and kissed his nose, breaking the pulse pounding suspense with a kiss boop. “You don’t want to see?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not until you’re ready. I can wait.”
He leaned forward, presumably to return the kiss, but halted once a noise sounded outside.
Without wasting any time, he threw me behind him and was up on his feet with his blades drawn. I hadn’t even seen him pull them out.
We waited, listening for another sound, but there wasn’t one.
“Stay here.”
“What, while you go gallivanting off into the night to protect a damsel who is obviously not in distress? I don’t think so.” I started to lift myself up from the floor, but he pushed down on my shoulder once more.
“I mean it, Trouble. We don’t know what’s out there.”
“So, your logic is to leave behind the one person who can heal basically any type of wound?”
“Can you heal yourself from a rotter bite?”
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, thinking of the night at the fire station that started this whole thing.
He sighed. “Right, then. Fine. I doubt I could actually keep you put anyways.”
“That’s the spirit,” I chirped, as I reached down into my shirt and pulled out my own blade. This time, I only had one on me, but it was all I needed. “What?” I questioned, as I caught him watching. “Bras are a perfectly convenient place to hold things.”
He sighed and turned back to face the front door, shaking his head, and moved forward. He mumbled something incoherent as he turned the doorknob and disappeared into the night.
I zipped up my jacket as the cool air greeted us. The sky above was filled with more stars than I realized were up there. I still had yet to get used to seeing the night sky without all the light pollution. If I looked more closely, I could probably pick out a few constellations, but my attention was required elsewhere.
Holding the blade out in front of me with my elbow into my body, I followed Mateo’s lead down the porch steps after closing the door behind me. The last thing we needed was for some rogue rotters to gain entrance and attack our friends in their sleep.
The area around us was cast in a decent glow from the moon and stars, but there were shadows everywhere. It was still dark enough to cause me to worry. Walking into the unknown was one of the most dangerous things one could ever do. At least this time, neither of us were alone.
A rustling sounded out from our left and we veered toward it. No movement could be seen, but something was definitely heard. For all we knew, it could be a damn bird causing the noise. Or maybe even a bat, or some other nocturnal creature.
As we moved down a of couple houses, preferably the farthest distance I’d like to go right now while all the others were still asleep, I saw it—a rotter slowly limping down the street in the moonlight. A groan was the only sound in the night air, until the rotter reached a point where a metal trash can lid was in the street, and then she clanged it to the side when she moved right on through it.
She seemed to be missing a few fingers on one hand, and then the entire hand of the other. The most gruesome part, though, was an eye that was dangling from the bottom of a pair of sunglasses, and down onto her cheek. The red of the tendons glittered gruesomely in the starlight, and blood dribbled on the oversized sweater, which I could still make out clearly enough to read, “I don’t fart, I whisper in my panties…sometimes it’s a scream.”
“What the fuck?” Mateo whispered out.
“I know, right? I’d love to have that shirt,” I responded. He gave me a weird look, and I realized perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. Well, that didn’t make it any less true. I glanced back at the sweater with the most hilarious saying I’d ever seen and chuckled.
I moved closer to the rotter, but it was going slow enough that I didn’t have to worry. Not only could I outrun it, but I could out walk it too.
As I got closer, I realized there were tire tracks across the front of the sweater, along with a broken pin that looked like it once was the letter D. This thing had literally been run over with a car, and was still moving. Whoever it was apparently didn’t stop to make sure the job was done.
Our full focus was on this one rotter, and we made the deadliest mistake imaginable—not paying attention to our surroundings.
I let out an “oomph” as I was knocked to the ground. A hissing sounded above me, but before I could react, it was flying through the air.
“You alright?” Mateo reached out a hand, which I grabbed on to. He pulled me back up into a standing position, and I turned my arm around to look at it. There were various cuts, and blood was already dripping in the short time I’d gotten hurt. The best part of all, was the cuts already seemed to be healing. This healing ability seemed to be working faster and faster the more it happened. I briefly wondered whether or not that was a good thing.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I concluded. “I’m healing already.”
His forehead creased at the information before turning back around. The psycho speed rotter was already running back toward us. Once it was almost upon him, Mateo stepped to the side with an outstretched arm, so the rotter ran right into the blade that was protruding from his fist. The rotter was instantly decapitated, and both the body and the head were falling to the ground, completely separated.
“Now,” he began, as he brought the knife closer to his body, “to take care of this one. It may be slow, but it only takes the slightest wrong move to end up dead.”
He turned toward the farting shirt rotter and ran.
As he ran, I couldn’t help but watch the bubble butt I’d once noticed long ago. Back when I first met him and we were surrounded by rotters in a house, I took a moment to admire his ass.
I guess some things
never really changed.
A moment later, the rotter was falling to the ground for the final time in its undead life.
“I think that might be all of them,” he remarked, as he bent down and wiped the blade off on the sweater with the tire tracks. “What do you say, Trouble? Continue to patrol while we’re out here, or head back and call it a night?”
“You took down two rotters just now.”
“Yes I did. So, you want to head back?”
“No,” I responded, my voice stern. “Now I need to take down two as well. Then we can call it a night.”
His head lifted up and I caught the glimmer of a smirk. “What if I took down another one before we made it back to the house?”
I lifted my arms out to either side of me before dropping them down against my sides. “Welp, then I guess we may be out here all night.”
“Alright,” he conceded. “You’re on. The one to take down the most rotters before we get back to the house, wins.”
“Nuh, uh, uh, not so fast. The house is only two doors down. We didn’t start this until after you already took down two. We need to take a detour, in order to make it fair.”
He reached my side again and placed a hand on my back. “Alright, I can do that.”
We crossed to the other side of the street, went down past the house, and to the end of the lane, before turning around and heading back to our shelter. We passed several more rotters on the way, which we both took down together, taking turns like it was a carnival game, trying to see who could get the most points.
Neither of us kept track of who won.
Blyss
Frantic shouts echoed off the walls and I scrambled to my feet, immediately reaching into my pants pocket and drawing a blade. Mateo was at my side, doing the same thing. It was our natural reaction to being woken up like that.
My head spun around, wildly searching for the source of the sound. It sounded as though it came from inside, which would be even more worrisome.
Lincoln rushed into the living room from around the hall corner, his hair a mess and eyes wild with sleep interrupted panic. His eyes searched the room and filled with relief when they landed on me, before his eyebrows bunched together. “What are you doing out here? Did something happen?” His eyes ran over me, looking for any sign of injury—which wouldn’t really do much, since I apparently healed on my own anyway.
I let out a breath and put the blades away, but Mateo kept his drawn and glared. “I couldn’t sleep is all. Nightmares. So I came out here to help keep watch.”
His stance relaxed, and the others came loping down the hallway, each with a matching worried expression. It seemed they woke up, found I was missing from their little protective circle, and panicked.
Maura stumbled after them, looking confused. “What’s the problem? Did something happen?”
“No,” I reassured her. “They just woke up to find I wasn’t in the room anymore. Everything is fine. I spent the rest of the night keeping watch out here.”
I clapped my hands together before separating them to sign the words. “So, who’s ready for some breakfast before stealing a car?” I looked around, but after a few beats of silence, I shrugged. “Well, I thought it was funny.” I dropped my hands and walked past them to get to the master bedroom.
An overwhelming stench of decay reached my nose as I pushed the door open. No matter how far into a rotter-pocalypse you were, that was one smell you could never get fully used to.
Ignoring the decapitated corpse on the bed, I made my way to the closet. I never did get around to searching this room after dealing with the rotter, and I wanted to see if there were any supplies.
The closet door creaked as I pushed it open, it was barely hanging on to its hinges. I wouldn’t be surprised if it fully separated from the frame before I was even finished searching.
The inside looked like a tornado had gone through. Torn fabric had been thrown everywhere, and miscellaneous items were tossed about.
Bending down, I began to pick through the abandoned belongings, and set aside things that were still in one piece. After some time picking through the items, I had a small pile behind me. Mostly, it was comprised of random articles of clothing, and then useless things like picture frames and such. Of the clothing, I ended up grabbing a pair of pants that seemed to be my size, and a couple t-shirts, as well as a few smaller shirts for Maura. The rest was men’s clothing, and I’d leave the guys to go through those.
I stuffed the clothing into my pack, slung it onto my back, turned around, and saw a long wooden dresser against the far wall. I made my way over to it. May as well make sure to go through everything.
The drawers were empty, though, with absolutely nothing left inside.
“Find anything?” Adam leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
My stomach flipped at the sound of his voice. “Most of the items were pretty much destroyed, but there’s a pile of men’s clothing there on the floor if you guys want to go through it.”
He uncrossed his arms and moved over to the pile, and began to pick through the clothing. After checking the sizes and durability of each piece, he started tossing them into four different piles. I giggled when I saw one that had a flame design on the hem with the words, “Hot stuff,” written across the chest in one of the four piles. I assumed that one would belong to Lincoln, and I’d be disappointed if I never got to see him wear it.
Jonah appeared at the door with a few items in his hands. He crossed over to me and handed me a few pieces of jerky and my favorite water bottle with the string of a tea bag hanging out.
I smiled as I took it in my hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened with surprise and a faint tinge of pink began to spread across his cheeks. This man was too adorable for his own good.
Steam swirled up from the opening in the top of the bottle and I lifted the cap off entirely. I blew over the top of the hot liquid and then tested it out with a sip. I took a little humor in the thought that Mateo may have had a hand in making my green tea. I made a mental note to persuade him to try some. Maybe I could knock him off his coffee pedestal. The thought made me smile. If he were to give in, it would most likely be my doing.
My eyes slightly rolled to the back of my head in appreciation, then I took a bite of the jerky, savoring the taste of it before diving in for a second bite.
A smile crossed Jonah’s face before he joined Adam at the clothes pile, and before long, the two had picked out clothing for all four of the guys and were stuffing what they could into their already bulging bags.
A high-pitched yelp sounded from outside, and I took off running. I darted out the front door with my blades at the ready, and looked around for the threat. Puppy was scrambling up from a spot on the ground where she must have fallen or been thrown, and she jumped up and ran toward a slow-moving rotter. There were a few of them coming from all directions, and closing in on the house with each sluggish, staggered step.
She bounded, latched on to the throat of the nearest rotter, and tore the whole thing out. The decaying material crumbled in her jaws and rained down onto the ground. The rotter fell to the cracked concrete, even more lifeless than before.
I turned around, taking in the full scene before I acted. Lincoln and Maura were a ways away, taking on a few rotters. Maura was doing a pretty impressive job holding her own, and Lincoln was slicing what he could. When the rotters didn’t go down immediately, he touched a hand to their already peeling flesh, and then pulled away once they started to smoke and small flames appeared, spreading across their bodies faster that the virus that took them.
There were a couple rotters crawling across the ground, using their dead arms to pull their legless bodies toward the nearest living things. Puss-filled vomit sprayed out of their mouths as they moved along, pulpy bits of flesh still stuck in their teeth.
Turning around to find a bigger threat, I spotted a fast-moving rotter a little farther away. Holding my arms out, I sliced and diced
a few slower moving rotters on my way to get to the faster one, then rolled on the ground at the last minute to trip the psycho rotter. It fell to the pavement with a loud thud, and I rolled over quickly before jamming a blade into its skull. I pushed and twisted the blade until the rotter stopped moving, then pushed my feet against the skull to hold it steady while I yanked the blade back out again and jumped to my feet, ready for the next threat.
I was so focused on what was directly in front of me that I wasn’t paying any attention to what was happening elsewhere. At least, not until an arrow went whizzing by my head.
I jumped and turned in a near full circle. A rotter fell to the ground barely a couple feet away with an arrow poking out from the back of its head, the neck twisted at an odd angle upon impact. I was surprised its skull didn’t fully snap off in the process. I turned around until I was facing the one responsible for this downed rotter.
Jonah stood in the doorway with another arrow nocked in his bow. He gave me a nod and then proceeded to shoot and take down other rotters, providing us backup from afar.
The first time I’d seen a bow and arrow used was when I’d first met Lincoln. So much had happened since then, and we’d mostly been using blades. This was the second time I’d seen Jonah fire an arrow, and he was pretty good. I already knew he had experience in shooting ranges when he was younger, and that he was good with a blade, but this was another piece of information I’d pile into the back of my mind to explore more later on. He really had skill and coordination.
Trusting Jonah to have my back, I lifted my hands. With blades raised, I moved about, cutting and taking down any rotter in my way no matter how quickly or slowly they moved. Each one was a threat and needed to be annihilated.
“Where are they all coming from? There hasn’t been any rotters around since we crashed the car,” Lincoln hollered between blasts of fire. He was wearing down, and he’d need to get rehydrated soon. The only known source of water around was the water bottles that were left in our packs, and there was no telling when we’d reach another source of water again. I cut through another couple of rotters, making my way over to him. Right before I reached him, an arrow appeared in the middle of the forehead of the rotter he was about to shoot fire at.
