The day after: An apocalyptic morning (15 page)

              "Yeah," Christine agreed.

              "Well, trippy or not," Skip told them, "you two are now official combat veterans. Your cherries have been popped, as we used to say back in the 3rd ACR."

              Christine started to giggle. "Gee, Jase," she said, elbowing him in the side, "bet you never thought you'd lose your cherry that way, huh?"

              Jack managed to look amused, offended, and embarrassed all at the same time. "Shut up, Chris," he barked, pushing her.

              Skip smiled as he watched this exchange. Though the world had forced his two friends into a brutal adulthood much earlier then they were meant to be thrust into it, for just a moment he was able to catch a glimpse of the kids that they had once been.

              "I'm glad you're talking to me again," Skip told Christine that night as they shared their customary fellowship after Jack's departure to dreamland. There was still a little bit of light left, just enough to make out the silhouettes of the trees around them, but it was fading fast.

              "I'm sorry for the way I acted," she said softly. She was sitting next to him on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. She did not look at him as she spoke. "I was being kind of a bitch I guess."

              "No," he said, shaking his head. "You weren't. I did something that hurt you and you were acting the way a woman does when she's hurt. You don't have to apologize to me. It's me that should apologize to you for sleeping with you and then rejecting you the next morning. I'm not the kind of person that does that, you know."

              "You had your reasons," she said. "I understand. I didn't at first but after what happened today... well... I think I can face just about anything after that. It seemed like being mad at you and not talking to you after you saved our lives was just... petty."

              "You saved your own lives. I just told you how to do it."

              She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "You know what I mean," she said. "We wouldn't have been able to do that without you. We wouldn't have even known those guys were there in the first place if it wasn't for you. How did you know?"

              He shrugged, leaning over and reaching into his sleeping bag. He bypassed the one remaining can of beer and instead pulled out the opened bottle of Jack Daniels. "Something just told me," he said, unscrewing the lid and placing it carefully in his lap. "I just started to get a feeling that something was wrong and that someone was up on the hill above us. I don't know how I knew, I just did."

              "That's creepy," she said, shivering a little at the thought.

              He tipped the bottle back and swallowed down a healthy shot. Like before, it made his eyes water and his throat constrict but warmth began to spread through his body almost instantly. "It's not really all that unusual though," he told her. "I used to get the same feelings at times when I worked patrol. I'd be in a house and I'd just know that someone was hiding in one of the bedrooms. Or I'd walk up to a car on a vehicle stop and I'd just know that they had a gun or a knife or some rock hidden in it. And it wasn't just me either. Most cops that worked patrol for a while were able to do that. It's just some kind of instinct." He took one more drink and then offered her the bottle.

              "Thanks," she said, taking it after a moment's hesitation. She sniffed at it carefully and then put it to her lips, taking a tentative sip. She made a sour face. "Yuck," she said. "This stuff is horrid."

              "I agree," he said. "I can't understand why people paid twenty bucks a bottle for that shit. But you kinda get used to it after a few shots. Take a big drink and swallow it as fast as you can, before you have a chance to really taste it. It still tastes like shit but believe me, the warmth it gives you is worth it."

              She looked at the bottle doubtfully for a moment and then did as he suggested. She shuddered for a moment as her body tried to reject it and then she began to cough. "Gross," she choked, wiping at her watering eyes. "I almost barfed!"

              "But how do you feel now?"

              She wiped her eyes one more time and then paused, as if getting in touch with her biorhythms. "Actually," she said, "I do feel kind of warm now."

              "Try another shot," he suggested. "Get real warm."

              She giggled a little. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

              "Maybe I am," he said, sliding closer to her, until their legs touched. "Maybe you deserve to get drunk after what happened today. I sure feel like I do and I hate to drink alone."

              "What if you corrupt me?" she asked teasingly, letting her body lean a little closer to him.

              "I'll tell you something, Christine," he replied, turning her face to his and looking in her eyes. "We live in a corrupt world now. If that little shoot-out we had this morning taught me anything, it taught me that. It seems that we might just have to change our definition of what that word actually means now. If you're woman enough to blow some pukebag away with a fuckin' M-16, then you're certainly woman enough to down some whiskey afterward, aren't you? If Jack were awake I'd give him a couple shots too. I never would have dreamed of giving booze to a teenager before all this shit happened, but I never would have thought that I'd need to rely on two teenagers to back me up in a firefight either. So drink up, if you're woman enough, that is."

              She took a huge swallow of the whiskey, hardly flinching this time. She handed the bottle back to him. "I'm woman enough," she said. "For anything that you want to throw at me."

              "I'm glad to hear that," he said, downing one more shot himself. He picked up the cap and put it back on the bottle and then tossed the bottle itself in the general direction of his sleeping bag. He put his hands to the side of her face and slowly pulled her head towards his. "You are a woman now," he told her softly.

              "Yess," she breathed, as his lips touched hers.

              She tasted strongly of the whiskey she had just swallowed as his tongue slowly slipped into her mouth. He sucked at it gently, drawing it from her mouth into his own, swirling it against his. She put her arms around his back, pulling him to her, pressing herself into him. He relished the contact, relished the feel of her soft curves beneath her wet clothing. The guilt he had experienced the last time he had done this was gone.

              "Mmmm," she hummed, pulling her mouth briefly from his. "You're a great kisser."

              "Thank you," he said, pecking at her lips again, letting his own arms encircle her waist.

              "Are you sure that you really want to do this?" she asked him, looking in his eyes, her expression wanting but also a little worried. She did not want to be hurt again like she had been the first time.

              "I've never been more sure of anything," he replied with complete honesty. "I want you very badly, Christine. I dream about you at night."

              "I dream about you too," she said. "No one has ever made me feel like you do when..." she trailed off.

              "When what?" he asked, giving her top lip a soft suck, making it swell.

              "When you touch me," she said.

              "Would you like me to touch you again?"

              "Yes. Touch me everywhere."

              Their lips came back together in a passionate kiss, their tongues intertwining once again. It was not a gentle kiss that they shared but a lustful one; one designed to heat them up. It did its job admirably. Skip's erection began to push painfully against the front of his pants. Christine let her hands drop down to his ass where she began to knead his cloth-covered cheeks with her fingers. He broke the kiss and put his lips to her neck, biting and sucking on the skin.

              "Let's get undressed and get in the sleeping bags," she panted into his ear as she felt his mouth upon her.

              "I've got a better idea," he said against her neck.

              "Huh?"

              He stood, holding out his hand to her. "Come with me. I'll show you something I found when I was checking out the area."

              "You mean, go out in the rain?" she asked, although she did not hesitate to take the offered hand and stand up.

              "Just for a minute. You'll see."

              He led her out of the lean-to and into the almost-night. There was just enough light left for him to make out the proper direction. They moved in between trees and over several piles of fallen branches.

              "Skip, where are we going?" Christine asked. "Why didn't we just get into bed?"

              "Jack heard us the other night," he told her. "We woke him up."

              "We did?" she said, mortified at the thought.

              "Yes, or, more accurately, he felt us. He told me that your elbow bashed him in the head a few times."

              "Oh my Gawd! Did he tell you that?"

              "He did. But don't worry. He's cool with it. In any case, I thought that maybe a little more privacy was in order. And fortunately, I found... where the hell is it now?" He looked at the confusing array of shapes and shadows that surrounded them. "Damn I wish we had a flashlight... oh... there it is. This way." He headed for a black shape that was just a little too straight and even to have been caused by Mother Nature. Christine followed dutifully behind him.

              "What is it?" she asked.

              "It's a genuine, American-made, Ford Taurus that got washed down from the road up there," he told her, stumbling his way closer.

              "A car?"

              "Correct," he confirmed, reaching out and finally touching cold, wet metal. "I found it while you were making camp. I didn't think you could drive something like this out this far into the woods, even before the comet, but somebody did. You ever done it in a car before?"

              She began to laugh. "Except for the other night," she told him, "that's the only place I ever have done it."

              "I see," he said, laughing with her. "Then maybe you can show me the way. It's been quite a while since I've had the pleasure."

              He opened up the back door of the four-door car and swung it open. It took a little effort since the vehicle was resting at a twenty-degree angle, it's trunk against a tree, the hood the highest point. He held it for Christine. "After you, my lady," he told her.

              She didn't move right away. "There's nothing in there, is there?" she asked, obviously thinking more about somebody than something.

              "I checked it for supplies when I found it," Skip told her comfortingly. "There was nothing we could use in it but there were no people or critters either. It's empty."

              That convinced her. She ducked under his arm and climbed into the back seat, scooting over towards the far door. Skip followed her in, allowing the door to shut behind him. With the upward tilt of the car it was actually quite comfortable to sit in since they were naturally reclined. The rain pattered noisily on the roof above them, adding a soothing background noise. The smell was a bit musty, as if the previous owner had not been very fastidious with cleaning, but it was not overpowering. Most important, it was dry; the first completely dry place they had been in quite some time.

              "All we need now is some music," Christine said, stretching out a bit and pulling herself next to him.

              "I checked on that earlier," he replied, putting his arm around her. "The battery is still good but the keys are gone. And despite my many talents, hot-wiring an ignition is not one of them."

              "Have you been planning this the whole time?" she asked, mock indignation in her tone.

              "Who, me?" he asked innocently.

              "We're gonna have to get shot at more often if this is the kind of effect that it has on you."

              He pulled her against him, forcing her to twist a little in her seat. "Be careful what you wish for," he told her, kissing her on the mouth before she could answer him.

              It did not take them very long to get heated back up. Within a minute of their lips touching, both were panting with lust and letting their hands touch forbidden places. Skip reached under her shirts, pushing across the soft skin of her stomach and forcing his way into her bra from below. He cupped her bare breasts, feeling the nipples harden into points against his palms. Christine reached down between them and unbuckled his belt, ripping his pants open once they were free. She reached into his pants where she gripped his hardness with her rough hand, squeezing and releasing it almost painfully.

              "I can't wait to have this inside me," she groaned into his mouth.

              "And it can't wait to be there," he returned, flicking at her nipples with his thumbs.

              He pulled his hands from beneath her shirts and then began to take them off, continuing to kiss her as he did so. Though he couldn't see very well in the darkness, he memorized the shape and feel of her breasts once they were bared. He ran his hands over them, squeezing softly, kneading them, pushing them together. Christine hummed softly as he did this.