Over the long days since his infection, I noted how the mindless screams lessened in their intensity. He ceased slamming his fists and head against the walls and glass until they were bloody. His features, though coarser than they’d been before, and gray tinged, were no longer frightening. Bruising faded. Split lips and cheekbones healed.
The clumsy jerking motions he made as he moved around the space where we’d trapped him eased into something less inhuman. Still unsteady on his feet, he used his hands to push off the walls or press against the ceiling to keep the wavering from sending him to his knees.
Physically, he was improving. I recognized him now beneath the dirty clothes and scruffy beard. But his eyes still betrayed his savage soul. They gleamed red. The darkening of his blue irises had been the first sign the disease had struck my lover.
I’d defied the law, refusing to report him or quarantine myself, and instead, had locked him in the garage studio he’d built when he’d been an aspiring musician, but which now served as his prison cell.
I’d watched the news as the disease continued to spread. The virus, which caused an unending hunger for red meat, turned average citizens into mindless murderers. At first, the sick had been quarantined in hospitals, and then prisons. Now they were loaded onto train boxcars and sent to internment camps, or so the government said, until a cure could be found.
But rumors had started almost immediately that everyone who boarded those trains was destined to be “put down”—a humane solution, which protected the rest of the population. But still, the disease ran rampant.
Businesses operated, but only because people needed basic commodities and the money to buy them. But there were curfews, and a military presence on every street corner.
Hiding Danny had proven tricky. The need to purchase large quantities of fresh meat meant I spent a good part of the daylight traveling to grocers in other counties so that my buying habits weren’t noted. I couldn’t risk having my home raided and losing Danny.
I’d do anything to protect him from extermination. No one knew whether the illness was reversible, but I was willing to wait and hoped the signs of improvement that I noted every day in my journal weren’t just my wishful thinking.
Today, his gaze followed me through the thick Plexiglas without blinking. The raw, intense hunger was tinged with something else. Regret perhaps? Was he remembering us?
As I did every day, I unlocked the door to the studio and carried in a fresh set of comfortable clothing, a towel and washcloth, soap, and a tall pitcher of warm water.
Unlike days past, he didn’t rush toward me only to be jerked back when he reached the end of his chain.
I slid everything as close as I dared, and then backed away from the door, all the while holding his smoldering gaze. “Please bathe, Danny. I’ll bring you food in a little while.” I reached the door and turned the knob behind me. “I love you.”
My life was reduced to this. Foraging for food. Cleaning the perimeter of the dirty enclosure where I kept him. He’d helped prepare his own prison, installing a toilet where the old mudroom sink had hung on the wall before he’d converted the space. Welding chain to a manacle, and testing the length to ensure my safety when I entered. He’d removed his equipment and instruments. Placed a sturdy metal cot in the corner.
The morning he’d woken, feeling as though he had the worst hangover ever and rushing to the fridge for the hamburger I’d thawed the night before, he’d recognized the signs.
I’d awoken with him standing in the doorway, his eyes haunted.
“What’s wrong?” I’d asked.
He’d given me a tight smile, but then I’d noted the deep gray shadows beneath his eyes, the slick of perspiration on his forehead. The red irises. “Danny?” I asked, sitting up on my elbows as my stomach tightened in rejection.
No, it can’t be happening. Not to us. We’d done everything right. We’d stayed clear of quarantined areas. Used our own vehicles rather than public transportation to get back and forth to work. Never drank after another. Didn’t eat out in restaurants where we couldn’t watch the cutlery and plates being sterilized. Didn’t kiss.
The disease was passed in saliva.
“How?” I’d asked, my throat thickening with tears.
He shook his head. “I don’t know, baby. But I have to go. I’ll walk to the center. Turn myself in. I won’t tell them where I live, but you’ll need to sanitize when I’m gone.”
“You aren’t going there.”
His smile had stretched, although his eyes watered with unshed tears. “I don’t have any choice. I’m already scared to death I may have infected you.”
I shook my head, the back of my throat burning. “You know what they say about those places. I won’t ever see you again.”
He spread his hands and gripped the door frame. His head bowed. “I love you, Terry.” Then he backed away from the door.
“No! We’ll find another way. Wait this out. They’ll find a treatment.”
But he walked away, down the hallway toward the front door.
I’d scrambled from the bed and followed. Before he reached the door, I encircled his waist with my arms and held him back. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. We’ll find a way to keep me safe. You still have a little time.”
While he’d finished the raw hamburger and I’d drunk a pot of hot coffee, we’d conspired. By the end of the day, I’d hit the hardware store two counties over, and he’d cleared his beloved studio.
That hug at the doorway was the last time I’d touched him.
I locked the door and walked around to the glass. The pile was where I’d left it, and my gaze shot to Danny. He hadn’t torn the clothing to shreds as he had every day since the illness had taken his mind.
Instead as I watched, my eyes filling, he hobbled toward the clothing and soap. He shucked the grimy, blood-encrusted sweatpants he’d worn since he’d slipped the manacle around his own wrist. He bent and picked up the washcloth and clumsily soaked it in the water, rubbed it on the soap and began to wash.
The fact he could think through the process of cleaning himself made me sob.
The sound must have penetrated the glass because his dark gaze found mine. His features were still cast in a dull, emotionless mask, but his red eyes told another story. He was there. A glimmer of my lover was fighting to come back.
I smiled at him, dashing away my tears, and walked toward the glass to press my splayed fingers there. “I’ll wait,” I said. “I’m still here. I won’t give up.”
This day, I was followed home. Although I’d been careful to hit a new store and to wind my way home keeping to back roads, I spotted the nondescript car parked in a distant neighbor’s driveway where a car shouldn’t be. My neighbor had been taken away weeks ago.
I left the meat in the trunk, not wanting to unpack until it was dark in case I was being watched. Maybe I was paranoid, but the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
Pretending unconcern, I stopped to check the mail in the box beside my door and took my time unlocking the front door. I betrayed nothing furtive—not a glance over my shoulder or a deepening breath. Once inside, I stood beside my living room window and lifted a slat in my blinds to take a look.
The driver’s-side door opened. A tall man in familiar dark cargo pants and a long-sleeved black shirt, an enforcer, stepped out, his gaze on my house.
My heartbeat thundered against my chest. I backed away from the window. I picked up a remote and turned on the stereo, upping the volume. Should he knock at my door, I’d pretend I hadn’t heard.
I raced to the garage.
The moment I entered and turned on the overhead light, my gaze found Danny’s staring back at me.
He sat on his cot. An astounding fact since he’d overturned it and flung it against the wall the first day I’d refused to free him. It had stayed in a far corner ever since, forgotten.
He looked better. His hair was clean. His body free of grime and gore. He’d piled his dirty clothing and the linens he’d used to bathe himself in the same spot where I’d left the clean stack. They were folded haphazardly, but the effort he’d made was apparent. He really was becoming more organized in his thoughts.
I pressed my hand against the window, and then lowered my forehead to press against the cool glass. “We’ve run out of time.”
Shuffling footsteps drew near. Although my head was lowered, I caught the movement of his hand. I glanced up to find him pressing his splayed fingers over the spot where mine was pressed—only the Plexiglas between us.
“Waaaa,” he said, his lips twisting then firming as he pressed them closed.
Was he trying to speak? “What’s wrong?” I guessed.
He gave a harsh nod.
There wasn’t time to rejoice at the fact he was communicating. “Someone’s here. An enforcer. I’m afraid he knows.”
His eyes closed for a moment, and then opened. Regret shone in his gleaming eyes. “Tiiime.”
“We’re out of time.” I nodded. “We came so close.” My voice wavered at the end, edged with a shaky sob.
He shook his head and raised the manacled arm. “Tiiime.”
I shook my head. “You’re not ready.”
“Nnnnow.”
My mind raced. He was speaking—after a fashion. His emotions weren’t wild and raw.
What other choice did I have but to free him? If the enforcer saw him like he was now, he’d call in an extraction team. Danny would be gone, and I’d be jailed for failing to report.
“I’m afraid,” I said, meeting his gaze. Afraid to free him. Afraid that if I didn’t, he’d be killed.
His head bent, forehead touching the glass. “I… sssstill.”
What did he mean? That he’d hold still? Or that he was still my Danny?
The doorbell rang in the distance. I was out of time.
I scurried to the studio door, unlocked it, pulled the key from my pocket and held it up.
Danny slowly raised the manacled arm and stepped closer. He’d either lunge for me and take a bite, or…
He held still.
I unlocked his cuff then took a deep breath and turned slowly on my heel. My shoulders tight, I walked away, aware of the shuffling steps following behind me.
I walked into the short corridor, through the kitchen, where I grabbed sunglasses from the purse on the counter, and a beer from the fridge, which I opened and poured into a towel and then used to blot Danny’s face.
He grimaced, but didn’t move. Not even when I placed the sunglasses on his head.
I grabbed his hand and led him to the living room, shoving him gently into an armchair. I put the beer bottle in his hand, and leaned close...I whispered, tuning off the stereo and hurrying to the door.
The moment I unlocked the door, the man in the black uniform shoved past me.
“Excuse me?” I said, stepping into his path and lifting my chin.
“Step aside, ma’am. I’m with enforcement.”
I didn’t like the coldness in his features, the flinty eyes.
“Leave herrr beee.”
I held my breath as the enforcer’s gaze shot past me.
His eyes narrowed. “Sir, would you please stand up?”
Danny set his beer beside his chair, then slowly pushed off the seat. He was taller than the enforcer, and swayed only slightly.
“Hell of headache,” Danny said slowly.
“He has a hangover,” I said. “Try not to speak too loudly. He gets pissy when he’s drunk.”
The man walked closer, his gaze locking on the sunglasses. His nostrils flaring as he sniffed.
But he could only smell soap and beer. I knew because I sniffed too.
Danny’s lax expression hardened. His mouth lifted in a onesided snarl.
“Seriously, you’re welcome to look around,” I blurted, getting more nervous by the second, “but it’s just us.”
The enforcer glanced at me, and then back at Danny who stood so still I couldn’t detect a breath. “Be sure to keep your doors locked. This whole area is red-zoned.”
“Thanks for your concern,” I murmured, quivering with relief as he turned and stomped toward the front door.
I shot Danny a charged glance before following the enforcer to the door. I turned the bolt, then slowly faced Danny, unsure of what I’d unleashed.
I pulled up sharp when I realized he’d moved closer. His hand reached out, touched my shoulder then my hair.
“The glasses, Danny,” I said, my teeth chattering. I needed to see his eyes, be reassured the savage gleam wasn’t darkening again.
His head dipped.
Reaching up slowly, I took off the glasses, and let them fall to the floor beside me. I hadn’t stood this close to him in forever, so close the air warmed between our bodies.
His fingers clenched around my shoulder, a little too hard. I winced. “That hurts, Danny.”
His features hardened. “Lllock meee.” Shuffling backward, he turned, swaying so hard he nearly fell. He strode toward the kitchen.
I followed him into the garage where he walked to the studio door. His hand pawed at the knob, but couldn’t quite grasp it.
Sensing his growing frustration, and fearing it would escalate to anger, I patted his arm. “Let me,” I said, doing my best not to show my trepidation as I stepped between him and the door and twisted the knob.
Once inside, he held himself erect as I returned the manacle to his wrist. “I’ll bring you food.”
Two more days passed. I skipped work, calling to reassure them I was fine. I didn’t want another visit from enforcement.
I hadn’t slept well the night before. Had avoided Danny’s cage, feeding him, but then claiming fatigue so I could leave quickly.
Watching him, not being able to touch him without fear, was taking a toll. I missed him. And the more his appearance returned to normal, the more I fought my desire to draw closer. But I couldn’t be sure I was safe. His hair was shaggy, and I longed to comb it, but just because he’d somehow restrained himself enough to behave when the enforcer had threatened our safety didn’t mean he was fully in control.
I watched him feed, with his hands, his teeth tearing through the meat like an animal. His hunger still drove him. He might still be infectious. If I wasn’t well and able to care for him, what would happen to us both?
So I’d stayed away, keeping to my bed, where memories of us lingered. His scent was still on the comforter, and I’d balled it into my arms, wrapped a thigh over the bundle and pretended I slept beside him, until my dreams had turned to carnal thoughts, and I’d rummaged through the bedside table for my vibrator.
I was lonely and horny. Depression made me tired as well. The news offered little hope. I scoured the Internet for the whack-job sites, anyone who might offer me a glimmer of hope. Was I the only one who’d fought back? The only one willing to wait out the illness? Or was everyone afraid to admit they hid their loved ones for fear they’d be traced?
A pounding sounded through the house, all the way upstairs. An almost rhythmic banging.
Afraid the sound might be detected outside as well, I slammed down the stairs, through the house and into the garage. “Are you crazy?” I shouted, my words reverberating against the walls. “Do you want everyone to hear?”
Danny stood in front of the glass, his hands raised. “Misss you.”
Rage blasted through me. “I can’t be here 24/7. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired, Danny.”
His hands slid down the glass, squeaking as they dropped away. He turned away, his broad shoulders drooping.
I felt instant remorse. If I was afraid and bitchy, how much worse was it for him? He didn’t have control of his body. Didn’t know whether he was going to live or die. He was completely dependent on me for everything. And he’d always been the strong one. The one who solved the problems, fixed the broken appliances, soothed my tears.
And now, he was a shambling monster. How must he feel?
Pity filled me, but I blinked away my tears. “Danny…I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond, simply shuffled to the cot and lowered himself. Today, he wore his red Razorback T-shirt. A pair of jeans, he hadn’t been able to button, so they hung loosely at his hips. From the back, he seemed his old self.
“Danny, please.”
“Misss you,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear it. And then he pulled at the tee, rucking it up, and ripping it over his head. He shoved down his pants and stood staring downward, as though wondering how to free them from the fabric pooled at his feet.
I went to the door, and unlocked it. I approached him slowly, because his mood was strange, his expression too watchful.
“If you lower yourself to the cot, I’ll take off your pants.”
Danny’s red eyes narrowed, but he dropped to the cot and sat with his back against the wall. I came closer and bent, pulling the jeans from one foot then the other. “Would you like your sweats back?”
His gaze was steady, locking with mine. Below, I noted his hand closed around his penis. He stroked it up and down, watching my eyes, his expression closed.
It was the first time he’d shown any hint of arousal or sexual interest.
My heart thudded in my chest. My gaze dipped, watched his large hand smooth up and down his shaft. His coordination wasn’t there. His grip seemed tight, but when he loosed it, he growled.
“Can’t quite get it right?” I asked softly.
“Dooo it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how you’ll react if you get too excited.”
“Find…waay.”
I backed away slowly, my face filling with heat, my sex throbbing, nipples prickling. What he wanted was wrong in so many ways, but already my mind was racing for a solution, because I missed him, too. Missed being with him, missed feeling his body claim mine.
The question of how much of Danny was still inside the monster weighed on me. If he was fully cognizant but unable to fully control his body and his speech, shouldn’t I give my lover ease? Just as I kept him clothed and fed?
At the door, I paused and glanced back. I didn’t tell him I might return. Didn’t want to anger him if I got cold feet. There was so much to consider. The safety aspects, the fact he was changed. Would I be able to follow through or bolt when it didn’t feel the same?
In my bedroom, I sorted through my toys. I found condoms and a ball gag. They’d have to do. My hands shook as I removed my clothing. I walked through the house nude, letting the cool air-conditioned air waft between my legs. My breasts bounced, nipples stiffening.
When I reached the garage, I stayed at the doorway, waiting for the moment he saw me.
His head whipped toward me and he lunged from the cot.
I drew back, alarmed, my heartbeat thudding dully in my chest.
His chest heaved. Fists curled at his sides. And then he turned and pulled the cot closer toward the door. Far enough that when he sat again, his manacled arm was stretched behind him.
My breath held as fear dissipated. He was offering me what protection he could. I entered. Inside the studio cage, I set aside the condoms and raised the ball.
His lips twitched.
A smile, perhaps? Again, I wondered whether I put my own spin on his expressions to serve my own need for connection. But still, I drew near. “You’ll have to open for me. I’ll put the ball inside, but I can’t touch your mouth.”
His jaw widened, and I swallowed hard. Trust was something I had to drag from deep inside me, but I tucked the ball into his mouth without touching him, then lifted the strap. He held still while I put it in place, latching it behind his head.
Now, I was safe from his bite.
My hands shook as I rolled the condom down his shaft. “Not even sure why I want this. No one’s said it’s not safe to fuck a zombie,” I said, making a joke, but failing to smile when I met his steady gaze.
I wished he could speak to me. Murmur sexy things to make me feel less like I was about to commit the mortal sin of bestiality. “I used my vibrator last night,” I whispered. “I thought about us, in our bed, and I couldn’t stand another night of longing for you. It’s why I was so bitchy today. I felt ashamed that I resented the fact I couldn’t fuck you.”
He made a garbled sound behind his gag. With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed my upper arm to pull me closer, pressing so hard I gasped. “Easy. You don’t know your strength.”
His hand dropped away to clutch the edge of the cot. He leaned back and spread his legs. An invitation.
His erection was thick, jutting straight from his groin. Mine to claim. Mine with which to do anything I pleased. And what I wanted was him, deep inside me, crowding my walls, filling me to bursting—hot and thick and male.
I stepped between his legs, lifted a knee and set it beside his hip, then lifted the other, climbing over his lap, over his hard stalk. My breasts ached, and I leaned toward his chest to rub the tips against his hair and skin.
Again, he gave a garbled growl, but I wasn’t frightened now. I palmed my breasts and held them high. Twisting and squeezing the tips, then leaning up to rub a nipple against his chin and cheek.
His eyes closed, and he rubbed his beard, rasping the tip.
“I think I like you scruffy.” I settled back, his cock trapped between my slit and his belly. “I’ll have to fuck you quick, Danny. It’s been too long.”
I rose, reached between our bodies and fit his corona against my puffy lips. Moisture glazed the head, and I rubbed against it, anointing it before I sank slightly, taking in just the cap.
His growling intensified. His red eyes glared.
“What? No teasing allowed?” I flattened my palms against his chest and pinched his nipples between my fingers. Then I sank lower, taking him inside me, bouncing softly and swirling my hips to fit him inside. “I always liked how big you are. I can almost come from just the fullness.” I sank deeper, hissing because the stretch was delicious.
When I’d slid far enough that our groins met, I sagged against him, breathing hard from excitement. “Gimme a second,” I said. “God, it feels so good.”
Danny’s free arm snaked around my back.
I opened my eyes, saw the dark intent and tried to push away.
His hand flattened on my ass, anchoring me against him, and then he crawled backward taking me to the floor with him.
We bounced, his deeply imbedded cock hitting my cervix, my knees slamming against the hard floor. Fear left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Danny, that hurt.”
He shook his head and tucked me closer, then got up on his knees and came over me, pinning me beneath him. Cool concrete against my back, I held my breath, wondering if I’d made a horrible mistake. But Danny’s hips flexed, he withdrew, then lunged forward, stroking hard toward my center.
I grimaced as he drove into me, fucking me against the floor. His movements halted.
His gaze narrowed on my face. Then he tucked his arms beneath me, cradling my body, and resumed his quick, sharp strokes.
They were barely rhythmic, but gaining strength and direction. I tilted my hips, curving them to form a cradle for him to rock against, then gently pushed against him every time he stroked to show him how to move with me.
My channel grew hotter, wetter. The lusty sounds of his cock churning inside me was beautiful, hypnotic. I lifted my legs, riding the crest of his hips, my ankles crossed and held tightly to his frame.
His grunts were thickening, so deep and growling I felt free to answer him in kind, grunting with each deep thrust, moaning in his ear. My fingers raked his skin, dug into his back and ass, encouraging him to pound harder.
Here was my lover, rutting, growling, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, not so different from the primal couplings we’d enjoyed before. With Danny, sex always began gentle but ended fierce. Bruises weren’t uncommon, and I’d cherished the twinges on my ass and inside my tender channel.
Letting my head fall back, I stared upward, watching the grayness in his features wash away with a flood of pink suffusing his cheeks. Sweat broke on his forehead and upper lips. His body writhed, each undulation grinding his cock deep inside me. We were so close his exhalations freed me to drag in air. We found our rhythm, found the pulse that connected our hearts until it drummed in our chests and ears.
Danny murmured, two distinct sounds.
“I love you, too,” I murmured, reading what I wanted into his sounds.
Whatever the future held, however long it took for science to replace fear, I’d wait. Moments like this, lying beneath my lover who fought so valiantly to return, I could do no less.
“I love you,” I repeated, digging my fingers into the deep indentation of his spine.
Water dripped onto my face, his tears. His head jerked back, and he halted his motions as I carefully wiped them away.
“They didn’t land in my mouth.” No one had warned about tears, but then, who knew? I used my thumbs to dry his tears, holding his gaze as he cuddled me close. “I love you still. Always.”
With a sharp, deep nod, he resumed rocking, his motions more fluid, his breaths deepening steadily. His red gaze locked with mine, a hint of primal hunger gleaming as he glanced down to my breasts then back to my lips.
“I wish we could kiss. I love your kisses.” Before, he’d hold me forever in his lap and lavish me with short, playful pecks that never failed to grow into hot, luscious kisses that melted me like warm butter.
His face rubbed mine, gently abrading, and then he lifted it and gathered me closer. My breath left in a gasp when he brought me up to straddle his lap and he knelt on the hard floor.
But he wasn’t leaving me to do the work; he wanted more friction. Something I didn’t have to guess at the moment his hands clamped hard on my ass and he began to move me in big motions, up and down his cock.
My thighs strained as I helped him, rising high then sinking, my cunt engulfing him from tip to root. I rocked forward at the end of each deep stroke to rub my clitoris against him. Soon, I was breathing so hard my head grew light. “Danny, I’m close, so close,” I whispered.
His fingers clamped hard around the corner of my hips and he bounced me faster, taking over the labor, lifting me, shoving me down hard. I loved the harsh motions, loved the heat he’d built inside my channel. Moisture overflowed, soaking my cunt and his cock, and still we moved together.
I held back my orgasm as long as I could, biting my lip to concentrate, until at last I heard his graveled rumbling and muffled, throaty shouts. I gripped his head, dug my fingers into his scalp and screamed.
I was aware of his fingers roaming my back and buttocks. Of his hips quivering beneath me. When arms encircled me and squeezed so tightly I couldn’t draw a breath, only then did I open my eyes.
He was there. Staring at me. Tears brimming, but not falling.
I reached behind his head and undid the strap. He turned his head and spat away the ball. “Won’t kissss.”
I rubbed his mouth with my fingers. “Won’t kiss,” I agreed.
“Won’t bite.”
I offered him a small smile. “Good to know,” I whispered.
“Lllove…you…ssstill…”
I leaned forward and kissed his chin, his cheek. Bit his ear, then nuzzled into the corner of his neck. We rocked together, bodies swaying forward and back. The sweetest embrace after a long, nightmarish night.
If this moment was the only joy we’d ever find, it was worth the sacrifice. The boy I’d fallen in love with in high school, the man I’d planned to marry, was here. Whether he was trustworthy around others didn’t matter. He’d never knowingly harm me.
A kiss landed on my shoulder, his tongue swept up my neck. I turned my head…toward him. His mouth sealed over mine.
Time is measured by hunger, by the escalating gnawing in my gut. I feed. I sleep. I snarl until he brings me meat.
Today, he brings me a pile of clothing. I sniff the air, lips curling at my own acrid scent. I wash, my gaze following him as he moves on the other side of the glass. He removes the dark shades hiding his glorious red eyes. His smile stretches, greeting me.
Although I’m not in full control of my body, not yet, I clumsily push off the sweats and wash. Then I wait.
“You know me,” he says as he opens the door.
“Yessss,” I say, the words coming from the farthest recesses of my jumbled mind, but feeling right. “Dannn-y.”
He draws closer, and I lunge against my restraint. He doesn’t pull away, but lets me come close.
I stand with my chest against his and lift my head.
His hands bracket my face; his kiss lands on my mouth. Our tongues taste then slide together. Our hips grind. An old hunger rekindles.
When he draws back, I blink away tears. “Ssstill.”