Plan Z failed, so I still don't own.
Love in the Time of Zombies
Chapter 10
Emmett McCarty-Forks WA
The inside of the hospital smells like a butcher's cold locker that's had the electricity cut off to it for a few days in the middle of summer. The rank odor of rotting meat, urine, and who knows what else is only mildly thwarted by the bandanna I have wrapped around my face. The flickering lights reminds me of a couple of hack and slash horror movies, while the constant undercurrent of moans from the zeds make the little hairs on my body stand on end.
Jack, despite following my advice about covering his nose and mouth against the smell, hunches over behind me and loudly regurgitates his breakfast. Becky starts to move to him, but I raise a hand to halt her, then jab a finger in the direction she is supposed to be watching. She scowls at me, her face half in shadow because some of the lights aren't working, but resumes her place in the defensive line.
"I found one of the hospital maps," Michael murmurs under his breath as he pads up from the back of the group and holds up one of those plastic framed monstrosities that show the layout of the building.
We hold it up against the wall and, using our flashlights to see, hurriedly decipher the safest paths to take to reach both targets. Just as we agree on a plan of attack, Becky takes out a zed that's wandered too close. "Time to move," I inform them as she puts her bowie knife through its eye for good measure then wipes the coagulated blood off with the things shirt and re-sheathes her weapon.
"I'd hate to piss her off, she's pretty damn good with that knife," Allen mutters at my ear before moving ahead and taking point. If he weren't a sniper, I'd be pissed at him going on without us, but as things stand, I'm glad to have someone who is such a good shot clearing the way.
Mischa, on the other hand, gives the goth girl a high five as they silently laugh about doing a 'double tap'. I give Jack a quizzical look, but he shrugs and shakes his head, obviously as confused as I am. I glumly shake my head and motion for Carlisle and Esme to follow close behind, leaving the others to watch the back as we ghost through the halls.
We try to keep as quiet as possible as we go, but nevertheless, we end up drawing the attention of more than one zombie. Soon, gun shots are ringing out on a regular basis while the two doctors rush to fill some of those jersey cotton laundry bags with the shit we need. They make sure to clear all of the shelves, but look guilty when they tell us that the refrigerated medicine is a lost cause because the stuff is room temperature. A few of the generators must have failed then.
On our way to the supply room where the bandages and things are kept, some muffled shouting coming from the stairwell gets our attention. Allen looks to me, one eyebrow raised, but I shake my head no and wave the group onward. Esme gives me the evil eye, again, but I choose to ignore her instead of being drawn into her morality debate again. We don't have the time or the ammo to save whoever they are from whatever they are running from. Sad fucking fact, I know, but ammo isn't limitless, though the zeds seem to be.
"We could at least try and help them," Jane whispers angrily, her eyes flashing back and forth between me and the hallway where the stairs are.
"It's your life to do with as you wish," I give her the 'go on' gesture and continue stalking towards our next destination.
"You really are an asshole," she hisses in return, her tone heavy with accusation.
I give her a thumbs up without turning back to face her, "That's me. Now either shut up and keep moving or go off and help them, I don't have time to sit and argue with you. If you're a zombie next time I see you, I'll make sure to put a round in your head before we go, if that helps."
"Dude, that was cold," Seth chides from right behind me.
I knew we should have just let the moving truck go straight to the school instead of tagging along in case we needed more room to put shit. "I have to be. It's my job to keep everyone alive until we get back to the store, not hold their hand and coddle them while they have a moment."
"Are all Marines as big of jerks as you are?" he inquires, I can hear the smirk in his voice.
"No, I'm actually one of the nice ones," I admit with a little smile of my own, "Be glad that Mischa isn't in charge, she's scarier than a dominatrix on crack when she gets put in a position of power. And if you don't know what a dominatrix is, I suggest you ask your sister when we get back."
"I know what a dominatrix is," he snorts after leveling his revolver at a naked guy and taking off the top of his head, "Ew, no one should have to have seen that."
"Hey, big guys need love too," I reply snarkily and give a nod to Allen, who has appeared in the doorway of what I'm assuming is the supply room.
We have to move much faster this time around, because some of our original undead posse has managed to follow us to our new location. I'm inwardly thrilled to see that Jane hadn't taken off on her own and is currently grinning like a fiend after getting a head shot on a zed.
I don't have much time to laugh though, because I spot another group of undead coming from a separate corridor. "Shit! We've got to hustle guys, we're getting boxed in!" I shout over the gunfire that has erupted.
The fuckers are moving too fast for anyone but me, Allen, and Mischa to get head shots on and soon we are running in several directions, trying to find a safer spot to deal with the onslaught. I happen upon an empty closet that is filled with linens, then grab Becky and Jack as they dart by.
I pull my pack and gun off and slide down the lone bare patch of wall until I'm resting on my haunches. "We're going to be in here for a while, so I suggest you get comfortable," I advise the duo while going through my bag and checking my ammo supply.
"What about everyone else?" Jack asks in a low voice as he and Becky follow my lead and begin checking their own supplies.
"It's not like we could all fit in here," I take my flashlight out and begin shaking it to recharge the thing, "And you two were the only ones who ran my direction. We'll have to search for the others once the z's have calmed down a bit and wandered off again."
They silently nod and we settle in to wait for an opening. It almost seems too much to hope that the others made it to safety as well. For some reason, my thoughts turn to Rosalie Hale.
Carlisle Cullen-Forks WA
"Carlisle, I have to stop for a minute," Esme groans against my shoulder, her breaths panting and alarmingly shallow.
My eyes dart around, seeking a safe haven and I sigh in relief when I see one of the many little offices. I pull her after me to test the door. It's unlocked so I put my ear to the metal and am rewarded with blessed silence. "In here," I whisper to her as I make a gap just big enough for us to slip through.
The room is pitch black, aside from the light emanating from Esme's newly lit flash light.
"We have to block this door somehow," I murmur and she shines the light on one of those ancient metal desks with the awful wood grain contact paper slathered over it. I dig my flash light out and hand it to her before dropping my bags and heaving the monstrosity across the space until it sufficiently bars the exit.
"I don't feel so good Carlisle," the love of my life mutters and I turn just in time to catch her as she drops like a rock.
"What's wrong love?" I ask, doing my best to mask the panic that has risen up in me. In the pale halo of the flashlights, I try to examine her without jostling her tiny form too badly.
It's when I notice that her left forearm is soaked with warm liquid. The dark blue of her shirt hides the color of the fluid, but there is no need to guess. "When?" I implore her, ignoring the tears welling up and attempting to blind me as I carry her to one of the smaller rooms.
Esme doesn't answer immediately, instead she sits sedately while I scour the drawers and cabinets for antiseptic and gauze to patch her up.
"When they first swarmed us, one of them was able to graze my arm with their teeth," she finally qualifies in a trembling voice after I've bandaged the wound then buries her face in my neck, "I don't want to die Carlisle, I've just found you."
"Don't worry, I'm going to find the cure and fix this," I proclaim and kiss the crown of her head. Oh, how I wish I could lose myself in the scent of her caramel locks. "I love you Esme, and I'm going to save you." I sit on the table next to set and pull her into my lap, a feeble attempt to remember her, us, just this way for the rest of my existence.
She lifts her face, eyes closed, and I press my lips to hers, giving in to her silent request. I had intended on a chaste kiss, but her movements become feverish as she sits upright in my lap and tears at my clothing. "I need you Carlisle," she pleads, never breaking the kiss, "Make me forget the pain..make me remember what it's like to be a woman who is cherished and loved."
A voice in the back of my mind screams not to give in, that she is ill, but I'm too far under her spell to care. As she works the front of my khaki's open, I tug and twist at her slacks until they are gathered at her ankles. She swivels her hips until the tip of my member grazes her heated core, then she lowers herself down onto me with a strangled sigh.
"You feel so good Carlisle," she moans as I grasp her hips and begin moving her on me, "Don't stop, don't ever stop." I reply with a reverent kiss to her pale throat, earning me another hum of pleasure from my angel.
It doesn't take long for her to take over moving, and I move one hand to rub her sensitive nub while the other idly rests on her hip. Soon enough, her sighs evolve into the huskiest, most sensual mewing I have ever heard in my life.
Almost against my will, the hand on her hip clenches the hem of her shirt and lifts the heavy fabric until I'm graced with the sight of two perfect ivory orbs. "No bra," I happily muse before leaning forward and capturing one proudly erect peak between my lips then sucking on it furiously amongst the deeper keening that erupts from the woman undulating above me.
I can feel the coil inside of me, ready to spring, when Esme cries out, her body clamping down on me and forcing my own release. She falls limp against my shoulder, her quivering body trying to coax even more from me.
She lays silent as I force my mind back into the semblance of reason. It's not until I rub her back that I realize that she is too still, too quiet. "Esme? Love?" I whisper, dreading the reality that has begun to crash down around me.
Before I can second guess things, I hurl myself out of the small room and shut the door behind me just as a feral, inhuman growl echoes through the space. Instinctively I rifle through the bags until my fingers wrap around the barrel of the revolver Emmett had insisted I bring. In the dim light, it's short barrel glints a murky gold and each chamber of the cylinder has been plugged with a brass shell.
A few moans from the outer door knocks me out of the stupor I'd fallen into while staring down the hand gun. The darkened version of my love answers the sound with a drawn out groan of her own and I fearfully crawl into the far corner of the room, all the while choking back mournful sobs.
"I can't do it," I whimper to the empty room once my back is to the wall and my knees are tucked under my chin. "I promised that I would save her," becomes my mantra as the hammer of the revolver taps against my forehead in tandem with my words.
Her whines are accusatory and the ceaseless pounding on the door serves as the rhythm to the dirge in my heart as I sit and let the darkness consume me as the lights go out one by one.
I have to save her, even if it means my own life. Even if I have to lie to the others until I can find the cure, I will save Esme.
The soft noises of people talking draw my attention back to the door. If they find me in here, they will kill the love of my life. It feels like the earth's gravity has increased a hundredfold as I push myself to my feet and stagger towards the door.
Seth Clearwater-Forks WA
"Jane, Carlisle, and Esme are still unaccounted for," Emmett explains to us as we trot through the creepy halls, "We'll do a sweep as we head back to the trucks, if we haven't found them by the time we leave, I doubt we will."
Two turns later, I notice someone stumbling down the hall. I am ready to pull the trigger, when a wrenching sob comes out of them. It's not a zombie, it's, "Carlisle!" I whisper-shout and sprint towards him.
He looks like a man broken when I reach him, quickly succumbing to the weight of his baggage. "My Esme---she's—I've lost her," he murmurs when I throw his arm over my shoulder and start dragging him alongside me.
"I'm so sorry Carlisle," I tell him truthfully as the rest of the group comes into view, "But we have to go right now man, before the stenches find us again."
Emmett, seeing the tragic expression on Carlisle's face, shrugs himself under the blonde man's other arm, "We're going to do some running now, you up for it Doc?"
He gives a miniscule nod and the three of us lead out at a brisk trot. Luckily the exit ends up being real damn close, because the good doctor gets pretty damn heavy after a few minutes at a dead run. Shots ring out all around as we burst through the doors and I glance up to see our other lost companion, Jane, standing on the roof of the moving truck, her rifle firing every few seconds.
"The engine is already running, get in!" she crows and we don't stop to second guess it.
"Are we still heading to the school or we going back to the store?" Allen asks, coming out of nowhere.
"We're still stopping at the school, we can't afford to waste the trip because we lost someone," Emmett commands while pulling Carlisle's bags off and all but throwing him into the back of the big truck. I toss my bags in and heft myself in to sit beside Carlisle, who is staring blankly at the blood staining his hands.
"You okay?" I ask him in a low voice after we pull out of the parking space and are once again rumbling down the road. He shakes his head yes, but refrains from speaking.
I can't even imagine the anguish he must be going through right now. I've never been that close to someone and have them die. I can only think about how bad it hurt when my dad died, but I don't think that's the same thing. It's impossible to use my mom as a reference, as I don't know how either her or Billy are doing right now because they were in Hawaii visiting one of my step sisters when this shit happened.
"When we get to the school, you're going to have to show us where to go Seth," Emmett instructs from where he is standing at the edge of the space, one meaty hand on his gun and the other holding tight to the side of the truck so all of the bumps in the road don't dislodge him.
"I understand sir," I answer, not looking forward to who or what we might come across in the buildings that used to hold me hostage for eight hours a day.
"Just remember, if you come across someone you used to know and they want to eat you, don't feel bad about taking them down," he says as if he'd read my mind, "You will be putting them out of their misery, I promise."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carlisle cringe at Emmett's words. "Yes sir," I respond, my resolve nowhere near as confident as my voice at the moment.
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