Dying Days 3 (13 page)

"I like you, too."

"You're in love with me, aren't you?"

"Wow, I cannot believe you just asked me that."

"It's true."

"That's not the point," John said. He didn't like the way this was going and how uncomfortable this conversation was for him. "You need to go take a shower. You're covered in blood."

"Look, here's the deal: I know you are still hoping your wife is coming to reunite with you. I really do get it. I would never make you do something you didn't want to do. I value our friendship more than anything. The thought of doing something on impulse with you, one wild night, with the chance of it ruining everything we have… but sometimes, John Murphy, I get sad thinking about all the time we're wasting."

John nodded, as thoughts swirled through his head. "Are you going to take a shower now?"

He saw the hurt in her eyes. She nodded. "I'll see you later."

Darlene got three steps when John cleared his throat. "Mind if I join you?"

She turned and smiled. "Are you sure?"

"Let's stop talking about this already." John walked up to her and kissed her, tasting her full lips. He pulled away and wiped some blood off her cheek. "You're beautiful now. I can only imagine what you're going to look like not covered in gore."

"It's been so long, I don't even remember."

They kissed again before going up the stairs, hand in hand.

Chapter Twenty Three

Darlene rolled over and kissed John, who laughed in his sleep. She slid out of bed and went to the bathroom, where she looked at herself in the mirror.

She'd lost so much weight she didn't recognize herself, but she was now trim and fit. She was still a big girl, with wide hips and broad shoulders, but she maintained the femininity and thought she looked good. John seemed to think so today.

How many times had she touched herself, thinking of what it would be like with John? It had paled in comparison to the real thing. It was truly magical, and it wasn't awkward. She'd felt the connection. After all this time, to finally let go of all the inhibitions and problems, and make love to John…

She saw such a loving look in his eyes when they'd been intimate, and she wanted to hold onto it forever and remember it. She wanted to forget about everything else.

They had started in the shower, kissing and fumbling and grabbing. When he'd entered her from behind, with the water running over her neck and back, she came immediately. Still soaking wet, they'd glided to the bed and continued.

John fell asleep, exhausted, but Darlene was still too wired to close her eyes. She turned, looking at her naked body, and smiled when she thought of the time right before John had shot her with an arrow. She was doing this same dance in the bathroom of the gas station. Worried then she was getting too skinny, even though now she knew how ridiculous all that was. But she was still a touch vain, and actually liked her accentuating curves.

"Darlene, coming back to bed?" John called from her room.

She smiled. "In a second."

"Are you still naked?"

"Why?" she called out.

"Because I want you to be."

"Your wish is my command," she said, as she stood in the doorway and posed for him with one hand on her hip and the other behind her head, holding up her hair.

"God, are you beautiful. Get that ass in bed."

"Maybe." Darlene pranced around the bed, feeling goofy and self-conscious but she didn't want to stop. John was making her feel sexy and wanted. She hadn't been much of a dater before all this, and could count the number of sexual partners, in her twenty-eight years, on one hand. She'd spent her teens and twenties worrying about her father, and using every excuse not to date. She didn't have many chances, either. Men didn't find her really attractive. She was a bit overweight, she rarely wore makeup, despite working at a makeup counter, and she wasn't very friendly to the opposite sex. Some people probably thought she was a lesbian.

"Hello? Earth to Darlene?" John said and laughed.

"Huh?"

"Where'd you go? I lost you there for a second." He patted the empty spot on the bed next to him. "Come back and cuddle with me."

Darlene laughed. "Are you a chick? You want to snuggle with me?"

"I didn't say snuggle. That's wimpy. I said cuddle. Much more masculine."

"Um… no. Not even close. I was hoping you wanted to, well… do it again."

John sat up in bed. "Why, Darlene Bobich, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were attracted to me."

"Nope." She started walking to the door. "Forget it. I'll go over to Eric's place. Any port in a storm, right?"

She got two steps before John was upon her, arms wrapped around her waist. He picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he tossed her down and jumped on top of her. Darlene was laughing like a schoolgirl about to get her first kiss, and she couldn't stop.

John propped his arm up on an elbow next to her and laughed with her.

"Are you going to do me or not?" Darlene asked, suddenly attempting to act serious. She couldn't help grinning.

"Why can't you say make love to me?"

Darlene rolled off the bed and stood up. "You do know I'm not a lesbian."

John looked confused, which only made Darlene laugh again.

"You're acting like a fucking chick, dude. Lighten up and get hard. Let's go again before I get hungry."

"I like you taking charge," John said.

"I do, too. Now shut up and slide to the center of the bed, and get ready because I'm about to ride the Murphy Ride."

"Do you need a ticket, ma'am?"

Darlene mounted John and smacked him lightly on the cheek. "Please stop talking, unless it's to scream my name and God and shit like that."

"Understood."

*   *   *   *   *

Darlene and John were out of the deck, snacking on stale crackers, and enjoying the moment.

"Any regrets?" Darlene asked.

John stopped chewing and looked at her. "None."

"I hope not."

He took her hand in his. "We were past ready for it. I know I've kept you at arm's length, and the constant flirting and innuendo is damn fun, but we needed this. I know I did. I should've gotten my shit together sooner, and realized how special you are to me."

"You never realized it?"

"I did. I just kept denying it, and hoping my wife would magically walk up the road and we'd be reunited. But I knew it was never going to happen, and if I really thought she was alive, I would be out there looking for her instead of making excuses."

"I just never want this to have been a mistake. I'm not asking you for marriage and babies and getting old together, I'm asking you for today and tonight. I never had anyone that important in my life. I wasn't much of a dater, and no guys in my town interested me. I was perfectly content to go to work, hang out with my close friends, and spend time with my father." Darlene squeezed his hand. "What I'm getting at is this: let's just enjoy the moments we have together, and finally be able to physically express what we both feel. It's really simple. There's no such thing as marriage and boyfriends and girlfriends and going steady. It's all about living this shitty life to the fullest. I want to do that with you today, and tonight and, hopefully, tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me. Tomorrow we need to keep sweeping Flagler Beach, and looking for more supplies. We're getting really low."

Darlene pulled him closer and kissed him. "Shut up about tomorrow. Aren't you listening? Let's worry about right here and right now."

"Gotcha." John hugged her and kissed her neck.

Chapter Twenty Four

Frank watched the school burn and ignored the screams from the young woman he'd recently fucked. He was troubled, but not because he was killing her (again), but because he'd been unable to complete the deed, seal the deal, and fill her with seed.

He was still hard, like he'd taken ten Viagra. He thought it ironic how
civilized
he thought he'd become since his transformation, yet at the sight of a young piece of ass his animal instincts had kicked in and he'd mounted her like a dog.

She wasn't screaming in pain; she was angry. Mad because he never untied her and let her burn. She wanted to join him and feast on the living. She was short-sighted. She didn't care about other zombies gaining intelligence, thinking we'd all live happily ever after. It was never going to happen. Too many cooks in the kitchen, as the saying went.

There was a very limited supply of people. Frank didn't need to feed like a shark, but, with every bite of flesh and taste of blood, he grew stronger. He didn't know what the ceiling was but he wanted to find out. Lack of sleep, actual food, burning energy… none of this affected him. He had unlimited stamina and endurance. He wanted to see how superhuman he could become.

The fire was drawing zombies in droves, but for now Frank ignored them. He had all the time in the world to rid the area of potential threats, and he considered them more of a threat than the living. The living would mount a weak defense against him, but in the end he was superior. He didn't want to go toe to toe with another creature with his strengths. It was obvious from the woman (who'd finally stopped screaming) there would soon be more and more of them.

As a zombie stepped past Frank, on his way to the school, Frank reached out and broke its neck. He dropped it to the ground and decided to destroy as many as he could. It was time to get back to work.

He'd broken six more necks when he noticed the zombies stopping just short of the flames, grouping up three and four rows deep, just staring at the burning school.

Were they waiting for something? He thought they would be marching right into the fire, but couldn't remember if he'd seen them do it previously. Had they gotten smarter, or did they never get close to fire? More importantly, Frank now knew, from the woman, fire would destroy them. He'd need to keep this in mind.

Some of the zombies kept pushing through, and knocked those in front of them into the flames. They walked blindly, without a sound, getting twenty feet or so before collapsing and crackling, adding themselves as fuel.

Frank went behind a line and forced them forward, momentum carrying them into the flames. It was easier than breaking necks, and because of the volume of zombies appearing, he could wrangle three or four at a time and toss them in.

He began singing a song as he went, and finding fun ways to toss zombies into the fire. A small undead child looked up at him, just as he scooped her into his arms and tossed her as far as he could, her body smashing through the plywood covering a window.

Frank laughed. He was doing a rousing a cappella version of "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. He'd always loved that song. It had come out when he was in middle school or maybe his first year of high school, and he had the cassette he'd play in his Camaro and he and his buddies would sing along. In college, he saw them in concert in Montreal. But he hadn't thought of the song or the band in years. He realized, with a smile, he could remember old thoughts and forgotten memories sharper and more clearly defined now, and knew it was another part of his growth.