TOUCHES PROVOKE REACTIONS
This is it... This is the end... I'm so sad T.T But it is somewhat a relief.
I'm being held at gunpoint for this chapter, Sanctus is going to steal Josh if I don't -.- No one touches Josh but meeeeeeee!
This is THE LAST CHAPTER, after this TPR will be posted as a Completed Fiction and I shall continue to work on the following:
~ Blue Collar Series: Story One: Big Apple
~ Blue Collar Series: Story Two: Story Of My Life
~ Touches Provoke Reactions: Take Two: Born Survivor
This chapter will link in with Anfisa's birth and childhood, then you'll have to go and read Anfisa in order to read on with what is happening. Me and Sanctus got two chapters done today -1/09/2011- and hopefully they will be up tonight too.
The Hunter put up with the Witch while she seemed to get bigger and fatter when the months went by, he just convinced himself it was the meat he was bringing her and not the fact the uncomfortable feelings within the Witch was something else entirely. Right now he was lying in his bedroom while she whined and bitched away like usual but he wasn't really paying much attention to her as per normal. The extra loud wail forced the Hunter to raise his head and glared at the door before picking himself up and walked into her bedroom idly and narrowly avoided something being thrown at him.
She was reclining on a tattered old mattress with her arms slumped beside herself but the Hunter ignored it patiently and when he got closer the Witch growled menacingly at him until he moved close enough in which the growl turned to whines and the Witch raised her hand to tug irritably at her shirt. It took him a second to work out why, leaning in to patiently sniff at her skin and recoiled slightly. She was a bitch, so why did she smell sweet? And why was his nose wet? Growling quietly the Hunter sat back on his haunches and rubbed his nose before he bit down on the material and yanked it away despite the Witch's sudden and annoyed yowl which then turned into a happy purr.
So she was wailing because her shirt was too tight? Well it made sense considering she was pregnant – not that the Hunter knew that. When he leaned in to shift again the Witch yowled angrily at him and the navy coloured beast leaned back again before he realized he was the dominant one, he fed her, he made sure she stayed safe and she was telling HIM to stay away? No. Forget that, FORGET that. It didn't work that way and she needed to understand when and where she was supposed to play the good little obedient wife.
Growling, the Hunter jumped on her, shoving her down by the shoulders and bit into her neck despite her yowls and the clawing at her shoulders. He was marking her, declaring the fact that she was his and his alone. His toy to use and abuse, his to screw and his to... take care of. Damnit, he didn't want to take care of her.
While he leaned there, lips to throat, the Hunter felt something kick him quite strongly in the stomach and pulled away abruptly, glaring down at her stomach and poked it. To say the least, he jumped when something actually kicked him back. So again he poked, and again, it kicked. To say the least this Hunter was intrigued and quietly sat there for at least ten minutes poking the greying skin while the Witch whined and yowled but he wasn't concentrating on that. He was concentrating on the fact that he was being kicked back. Then, of course, the Witch lost her temper and the Hunter was sent flailing out of the house with fresh rips in his shirt and her blood smeared on his jaw.
He was lying back on his building again, glaring down at the house from where he was with those rips in his shirt and the cross dangling from his neck and the same Smoker who was always there was lazing around nearby in a flimsy piece of material suspended between two walls. How he put it up the Hunter didn't know but then and there he really didn't care.
That was when he heard the scream.
Fuck. My. Life. Why was she screaming now? There were no humans in the area. The Hunter merely growled angrily and allowed the Witch to keep screaming before he even started to think about moving, he wanted to lick his wounds for a while and if he was unable to do that then there wasn't much point in going home. Home... Funny word. Since when had that thing become his home? It made him stop and it made him think. That place had never been a home to him but he always went back to it, to the Witch. He didn't want this, he'd never wanted a family or a wife, or a lover, or even a baby child.
There were no other infected in the area, so truly why was this Witch screaming as if she were in pain? There was no reason for it. She had been in this state for many hours now, screaming and wailing as if she had been startled by someone. It was a loud and creening noise that was alerting her presence to all those within several miles, including survivors that would love to make sure that they did not run into her. So, where was she? She was resting herself inside of an abandoned house, in the bedroom of a an old couple. There was a dusty, broken picture frame on the floor that showed them, happy and smiling. That had been before the infection had taken place. The Hunter heard the screaming, and it was coming from none other than his Witch, the very one that he had visited more than once and mated with. It had always been something rough and not out of love. She was his mate, as strange as that sounded. It had been months since she had seen his face. Her body had changed. Her middle had ballooned out into a large mass. It almost looked like a beach ball had been attached to her stomach. Her breasts were swollen for some reason. This was unknown to the zombies. Never before had something like this happened. She was knelt down in the corner, her sobbed were rocking her body as contractions were forcing the baby in her womb to move down. She was pregnant, and in labor. This was something that never happened. Her dirty and blood-stricken palms were pressed to her eyes as she screamed in pain.
Mates. It was strange. Nothing like that had been documented. Probably because no survivor ever survived long enough to make a list because they got tore apart or stamped upon by a Tank. It amused the Hunter to see the Tank step on the survivors like the survivors would stamp upon cockroaches. The circle of life, eh? The screaming in the end was more of a curiosity perk er than an annoyance - this was life, screaming people. Be it Infected or survivors. He huffed, a comical expression and left behind his pile of packs, leapt across the rooftop and shimmied over the block or two before dropping down to find his way inside the house. Walking on two legs was okay, generally he preferred the four - easier on his back that way, oh what an old man, it was crumbling steadily on him but it would never give. No survivors would go near them, the Hunter also knew that many infected would steer clear. It seemed only this one was dumb enough to keep going back to the very thing that wanted to kill him. Eventually, he nudged open the door with clawed fingertips, peeked his hood covered head through. Dammit, he hated that noise.
A mating pair of infected individuals had never been heard of, not even among the infected themselves. They were always ignoring the others, or getting angry and trying to kill them. For right now, the Witch was finding her silence the only solace she could find. She had been shot at, set on fire, and who knows what else, but this pain was coming from inside her body. She could not explain it. Well, obviously she could not explain it. She had lost the ability to talk, or even think, for that matter. She shuffled a bit, moving when the pain did not hurt as bad. It came in waves. It had been getting worse over the course of a few hours. Her sobs had died down for a moment or so. She made small, sniffling noises. When that door creaked, she screamed in rage. It did not matter that she did not even see who it was, she was angry. They were getting close and making noise. She wanted it quiet. She just wanted to sit there and cry. She lifted herself up onto her frail legs and jumped at the intruder in her room, but she didn't get far at all. A strange noise escaped her throat, a strangling noise almost. She screamed, but scrabbled back into the shadows of the corner. She had her clawed fingers feeling the crowning head of the babe that she had been unknowingly working so hard to birth. She stopped crying once more, shocked by this alien thing that was sticking out of her. She shuddered, her body forcing the head out another inch. She nearly fell forward onto her face. Her hands shot in front of her and caught herself. She started to push against the pressure that had been gathering in her middle. The babe was birthing much faster now.
The Hunter ducked out instantly she leapt at him - like hell he was getting himself sliced and diced! Though, she didn't reach him and he found that strange because the last time she'd managed to get her ass in his scampering ass as he'd vanished, now she'd scrabbled away from him - so despite the obvious danger he crept further in and found some sort of peace knowing if anything happened he could very easily go out the window. Whatever it was, the Hunter did not want to know but he could smell blood and he was always hungry so he decided to stick around. It was true, even amongst the infected it was unheard of but it had been over 2 years since first infection, surely they were not the only ones who were mated? Around here they most definitely were.
Perhaps mated pairs were not that rare, but none of them had produced a child. That much was almost guaranteed. The Witch was shifting her weight again, making it possible for the child to come out without getting sat on. There was strange feeling that this infected female was getting. It was some sort of tie towards the little being that was sliding free of her body. She had scrabbled onto the bed, so when she felt the bed give a little as an extra weight hit the mattress, she turned to see the sickly little thing. It looked like a reptile. A lizard almost. She was ignoring the Hunter, the very one that had sired this strange little being. The Witch leaned down and sniffed at the cheek of the still babe. It smelt like blood. It made her hungry. She snarled and began to look around, hoping there was something more to it than just this little thing. A few moments later, it seemed as if her troubles were not yet over. She went back to pushing something out. A few minutes later, the after birth was laying on the bed, making it all the more bloody. Infected were going to come to the scene if she did not clean it up. She started to nip at the organic blood filled sac that had come out of her. She jumped and scrabbled away when it began to ooze blood. She snarled and went closer. Then she noticed that it connected to the naval of the little lizard thing by some sort of strange looking cord. She seemed to remember her own belly button. She leaned down and bit at the cord, close to the baby's belly. She left about an inch, but at least the cord was off now. She looked down at the placenta and cord. The blood was too tempting. Her eyes, red and puffy from her constant crying, were shining with blood lust. She at once began to feast on it. The baby hiccuped once, and then she suddenly screamed and squirmed. It was cold!
Of course the Hunter didn't like the sudden noise, but he learned to grow up with it over the period of several weeks and several months even. The babe learned to suckle from its mother and the moment it became old enough to cling and not let go it did so. To its father. Unfortunately, the Hunter disliked the contact at first but when the baby had a habit of clinging to his back like a koala and not let go thanks to the super human strength the Hunter could do nothing but crawl around with her on his back. He loved his daughter, in his own... feral ways. There wasn't any denying it.
When she began to talk, a year or two later the Hunter couldn't understand her nor could the Witch but she gabbled away despite the language barrier but it wasn't like they couldn't talk together. Just like the girl knew how to talk to them using growls and snarls, the Hunter knew how to point and nom on someone. Well. He did nom on people, he brought arms and legs home for his prized – by now naked – Witch. Said Witch hadn't gotten any new clothes since the birth of the baby simply because she didn't have the reasoning power behind it to go and get new clothes.
The Hunter growled deeply, crawling across the rooftop with a pair of small arms around his neck and then jumped from wall to wall and scaled the side of a crumbling sky scraper to sit on the top to stare out over the dying sun over a dying world of a dying population and a dying species. Growling, the wind whipped about his face before he stretched out and lay down on a high ledge with his wrists crossing and his ankles resting softly over the edge while the four year old wiggled and giggled quietly, toying with two fists in his hair while biting at his hood with a soft sigh before grabbing his silver cross and tried eating that as well. She always tried eating that cross.
This was their world, their kingdom and as the sun settled over the concrete jungle the Hunter stared out over his ruling and roared out his dominance of society.
Clinging to his hood, was the saviour of them all.
NOTE: Who found the excerpt for Anfisa? And who found the hammock?
I must say, this was stressful, like, really stressful but it's over now and I hope people enjoy it for months to come. Maybe Ill go back and review it, maybe ill completely rewrite it but there wasn't much that could be done. InkiVeins was one of the only reviewers to comment and critique throughout and thus a personal mention is in order, my new best friend. Now I need to go and give critique to a glorious story she wrote named Prey Play, the next one along is Play Ploy and I really like it.
GO READ IT.
Thank you, again, finally, again, ill say it again, thank you so much.
Armani, out.
