Fight (NOLA Zombie Book 2) (8 page)

These thoughts plagued me as I went through my daily routine hauling wood around the compound as we reinforced the walls and going on an impromptu supply run when Isaiah said he needed more alcohol and my favorite task, Z-wrangling.
Sarcasm
.
 

Z-wrangling was a dirty job and we rotated it between all of the able-bodied adults. Two of us would take the small flat-bottom boat and fish out the zombies in the marsh around the compound using a dog “lasso” we had found when we raided a local vet for pharms. Zombies hadn’t made it to the shore of the compound. There was 30 to 40 feet of water to cross to get to us at the narrowest point and it did get deep at spots, but the majority of the water area was only a foot deep. Zombies would on occasion walk into the water if they heard our boats and get stuck in the boggy mud.

This is where the wrangler crew came in. Using the lasso, I would ring the zombie by the neck or arms and drag them to the boat keeping their body controlled. Whichever partner I was with would then dispatch the zombie with a knife. We would then drag them to a dumping site that we would light on fire at the end of the shift. It was nasty work, half the time the zombie would fall apart as we dragged it.
 
Arms came off, a head every now and again, and I would have to use a net to bring it aboard.
 

The last time I lost a head, I just let it sink to the bottom. We fished and used these waters for bath water, so we didn’t want to have any type of typhoid outbreak, or whatever a zombie corpse might cook up, but I wasn’t going after that shit. It still plagued me though. Who knows if the casual zombie had any type of microorganism that would infect our water or had intestines full of shit that would spread a bacterial infection? We were just guessing, but odds were it was probably good to keep zombie corpses to a minimum in the water.
 

The Z-wrangling eliminated zombies that were in our close proximity. Land based zombies we would lure to the “burn zone”, dispatch and burn them with the water babies. Did I mention it was a nasty job? It was one of my least favorite of the compound’s tasks that everyone got rotation on, but maintaining our little piece of heaven was a 24/7 job. Each of us put in our shifts except for residents that were permanently assigned to certain tasks, like our doctor, Isaiah, and our cook, supply guy, and fisherman, Bubba. Both men were exempt from clean-up, Z-wrangling, and supply runs, but had to pull guard duty every other shift.
 

Guard duty was only held by residents who qualified at target practice and only about half of our compound could qualify. We had erected guard towers at the bridge and wind-turbine. The guard at the bridge had to be able to shoot a target at 200 meters, which covered the entire expanse of the bridge.
 

We had everything down to a science. This was because of Zach and his ability to problem solve. It helped too that most of our resident survivors were former military and they were used to pulling shifts and duties.
 

We had a great group here and I didn’t want to do anything to mess it up. The point was to stay safe and secure and to survive. When you added romance, your brain became all fuzzy. Mine was still fuzzy over Blake. What would happen if I added Zach to the mix? Blake, I hated thinking about him, but in full disclosure, I did hope that one day he would come back.

Was that what was keeping me from Zach? Blake and the hopes that one day he would return? If he did come back, would I fall right back into his arms? I didn’t think so, I just wanted to know that he made it and the only way I would ever find out if he made it was if he returned. It was all about peace of mind or so I told myself.
 
I trudged back into the house that I shared with Zach, dirty and miserable from a day of hard labor, with all these questions running through my head. I showered and went through my nightly routine, not even bothering with dinner. I couldn’t stomach anything anyway. It had been a nasty sort of day.
 

When I finally laid down, my brain couldn’t shut off. Those damn thoughts were running back and forth in my head. When I finally managed to fall asleep, I was no closer to answering any of my questions.
 

I awoke groggy and not very well rested. It was going to be another shit day, but luckily nothing strenuous was scheduled. I had dinner KP scheduled for the next three days so I could rest up for a major supply run that we were going to undertake on Wednesday.

Zach was in the kitchen. He had already gone to the barracks and grabbed breakfast from the kitchen, powdered eggs and beef jerky. Yum.
 

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I sucked back a cup of instant coffee and choked down the eggs and jerky with only mild displeasure.

“You’re welcome.” He sat down at the table and I could tell he was taking in the dark circles under my eyes and the messed up hair. I looked like a hot mess. This was the first time we had seen each other since I stormed out of his office.
 

The tension between us wove itself thickly around us and we were just sort of staring at each other over the kitchen table.
Can you say awkward?

I decided this was as good a time as any to work on my weapon idea that had suddenly come to me yesterday. I had grabbed a large metal pole from the supply warehouse, a large knife, and some duct tape, and I had big plans. So I slapped my hands against the table and stood.
 

“Things to do,” I groused and walked into the great room looking around for my pole. Zach followed me and there went that tension…up and up.

I took the knife, a sharp sucker I had honed for hours, and I duct taped it to the handle of the pole. This would give me more reach and the perfect weapon for in the car or on a ledge, like in Fort Pike,
pure genius
. I would call it the knife-stick doohickey.
Maybe I could come up with a better name.
 

“What do you think?” I asked Zach and he just laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“What?! This is a great weapon for stabbing and slicing, but not getting up close and personal.
 
It’s like a spear. We should make spears.”

“Spears are a good idea.”

“Spears are an excellent idea. I’m sure someone knows how to make spears.”

“We’ll find someone, but I didn’t really want to talk to you about weapons. I was thinking we should start working on some combat wrestling training. I know you can scrap with the best of us, but zombies aren’t fighters, they are just brute force. You need to start building your upper body strength and working on your brute force attack defense.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” My mind drifted to those zombies in the storage room a few weeks ago.
 

“Some grappling might help, it’s usually how the zombies attack and the defense moves could get you out of a bind.”

“Grappling?”

“Wrestling, basically. The point is to get your opponent in an unbreakable hold. I figured you could learn how to get out of those attack moves that a zombie might put you into, falls, grabs, that sort of thing.”
 

“That could work.”
 

“I also think you need to increase your workouts with Baby, get on some more intense weight training, up your cardio. Try and match her routine more.”

“You would think I’m some out of shape weakling the way you’re talking and Baby’s full routine scares me. I’ve been trying to match her. She’s just got years on me. She kicks my ass when she goes all out.”

“She’s 5 foot nothing. How much more intense could it be?”

“Stop lying, you know she could kick your ass. You just dismiss her because of her petite hotness. You forget about how strong she is because that cute little baby face hides the fact she has the ability to kill you with two fingers.”
 

“She could try. I’m not too bad myself though. Petite hotness?” We both fell into a fit of laughter and it felt good to joke with him. I hadn’t realized it, but I had missed him. I hated how strained our relationship had been lately.
 
“Come get me when your food digests and I’ll show you some moves.” He said as he left the room.

“Sure.” I was suddenly shy. I didn’t really do well with organized sports. My self-defense training was repeatedly kicking the punching bag.
 

But I did as was told and thirty minutes later I was out on the lawn with Zach and he was throwing out all kinds of crazy jargon that was going right over my head. Some of it got through though, like “fall, protect and bite.” I could get that.

“The key is in the fall. If you’re going down, you have to go down right, bring your knees up and your arms up to protect against the attacker that is going to fall on top of you. Here, come here–” He went at me and I put my arms up in defense.
 

“Now, kick your leg out as far as you can get it, grab onto your attacker.” He placed my hand on his shirt. “And jump into the fall, landing on your side. You don’t want to land on your lower back. Then, with your momentum, you can hopefully push your attacker away from you. Get your knees up once you fall though.”

I did as he asked and it hurt when I landed on my side.
Was this supposed to be a good thing? Ouch!

“Force air out of your lungs when you hit. This is when most martial arts students do a yell. It’s not for dramatic effect. It’s to force the air out.”

It still hurt like a bitch the second time I did it, but this time Zach went down with me and scrambled over until he was on top of me. He was so fast I couldn’t get my bearing.

“Knees up, use your forearm to keep my face away from any exposed areas.” I was struggling against his strength. I could barely get my legs up much less force him to move with my forearms. He was so strong. I just wasn’t that strong and soon he was slipping past my knees and had me pinned to the ground. If he was a zombie, he would be chomping on my neck right about now.

At about the time I realized I was dead, I also felt a noticeable pressure against my leg.
Zach was very aroused.
 

“I’ve never had this type of experience with a zombie.”
 

“I’m a bad zombie.”
 

“Depends on your definition of bad.” I shifted and it only made things worse as the weight of his body centered itself and his erection nestled right in between my legs.
Jesus, that felt good.
I bit down hard on my lip to keep a moan from escaping my lips.

“Now you’re just being a tease, stop wiggling.” He went to push himself off of me, but somehow my legs had wrapped around his waist, purely in a defensive move,
purely
. I lied to myself.

I don’t know what he saw in my eyes. Hell, I didn’t even know what was going through my own head at the moment.
Yes. No. Maybe.
But, he saw something that gave him permission and he took it.

He started at my neck kissing me lightly, sucking on the tender spot under my ear lobe. Then he moved along my jaw, the lightest of kisses, preparing me for when he took my mouth. He stopped and gave me a moment. I knew if I said “stop” he would get off me. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want him to stop.
 

He kissed both of my cheeks and finally he went for my lips. It was one of those call your best friend and talk about it for hours kisses, if I had a best friend and if phones actually worked. He sucked in my bottom lip first and then lightly nipped it. Then he covered my mouth with his and began gently exploring with his tongue.
 

I let go of all the angst and denial and just let the kiss overtake me. He was a wonderful kisser, so gentle, just what I needed. I didn’t want to be forced, I wanted to be seduced.
Let the seduction begin.
 

His hard dick was still nestled between my legs and I couldn’t help myself., I pushed my hips up, rubbing the warm apex of my thighs against him. This move urged him on and his hand slipped under my shirt to cup my breast through my sports bra, pinching the nipple and forcing out an appreciative moan.

He sat back and just looked at me lying on the grass, my lips swollen from his kisses, my nipples erect against the light fabric of my shirt. When we were sparring, I had taken off my sweatshirt, but now with the absence of him, the chill hit me and goosebumps popped up all over my skin.
 

“Do you want to take this inside?” He gave me the option to back out of this once again. He was so sweet. I was such an idiot for stringing him along.
 

“Yes. You have the bigger bed.”
 
He broke out in a huge grin, stood and pulled me up with him. I followed him to his room at the back of the house.
 
He went straight to the bed and sat down. I stopped in the middle of the room just staring at him.
 

Before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped my hands under my shirt and pulled it over my head. I kicked off my tennis shoes and then my exercise leggings.
 
I stood there in just my sports bra and undies. It wasn’t exactly a matched set and I was probably covered in bruises and looked undernourished, but I didn’t care.
This was Zach.

 
Zach made no move–he just watched. I wanted to be naked for him. I wanted him to be naked for me.

With one quick motion I kicked out of my panties and then I was pulling my sports bra over my head. It was a rather awkward move. There is no sexy way to remove a sports bra. But I managed and then I was naked and he was taking in the sight of me, still unmoving from the bed.
 

“You need to be naked too.” I gestured to the clothes he still wore.
 
He stood and pulled off his shirt, revealing his strong body, his broad shoulders, his cut chest. He gave me only a few seconds to appreciate his upper body before he was yanking off his pants and distracting me with his magnificent cock sticking out at attention, asking to be touched. He sat back down on the bed and his eyes met mine. I didn’t know why he kept sitting there and waiting for me.
Was he
 
worried that he’d scare me if he took control?
I had no problem making the first moves, but I wouldn’t bolt if he got a little aggressive.
I must have done quite a number on Zach.