Rio was used to danger, used to death. Intimidation and violence were normal in his world, and he always considered himself hunted. There was always someone willing to kill the king to be the king. So when his enemies changed from rival gang members to zombies, Rio was adaptable than most.
Not that he could have ever prepared for the hundreds of violent, gory images that played behind his eyes now. Like the crunchy squishiness of a blade going through a zombie skull. Or seeing a human body ripped to tiny shreds by the undead in a matter of seconds.
Marcus getting shot though, almost dying, was what destroyed him. Rio watched in slow motion as Marcus' tiny body crumpled to the ground, as he saw the only thing that made life worth living slipping away. Don't die, don't die, don't die, he repeated, as if his words would be enough. With Marcus bleeding in his arms, life draining from him with every passing minute, he ran and didn't stop until he reached Beth's house. The instinct that led him there was confusing and vague, but he didn't question it.
He knew Beth was alive, that she survived the infection, the zombies, the bombings. Of course she had. Mick told him who'd heard from a guy who traded with her for a leaf blower. He stayed away though. Beth was disorienting and complicated, and avoiding death at the hands of zombies was exhausting enough. He kept Beth in the distant past as each day hardened him more and more against the world. So when their paths crossed again, when he was at his most desperate, and Beth freely offered him sanctuary, saved Marcus' life without even a pause, he almost didn't understand it. When he started to think about life and happiness again, he didn't trust it.
He survived all this time through motion, by running and darting and constantly looking behind him, keeping Marcus close by his side. Staying still seemed impossible. But slowly, bit by bit, he was able to let go of his intense, feral grip on being a lone wolf. When Beth asked him to stay, quietly and sweetly, of course he did. He never could stay away from her.
He knew he made the right choice. The invisible weight on his shoulders lightened. Marcus started smiling again. Once, a burst of his laughter stopped Rio in his tracks, his brain unable to process the sound. Joy was so foreign in a world conditioned to screaming and gunshots and sadness.
Not that living with Beth was completely easy. It was strange to blend their lives together, to pick up new habits, as if they didn't have a whole other complicated history together of power plays and gunshots and sex and infatuation. In an unspoken agreement, neither of them brought that up, neither of them cared to relive it. Between then and now, they'd fought so hard to simply stay alive, that it was too draining to dwell on the past, to pretend they meant nothing to each other. Perspectives and priorities changed. And Beth saved Marcus.
Even though civilization crumbled all around them, Rio saw remnants of the Beth he once knew all around. Like the determined way she kept her home filled with warmth and security. The carefully organized rations, notebooks with instructions for their home made filtration system, the list of different uses for herbs and spices or the DIY activity books she'd made for each of the kids. He saw it in the confident way she negotiated barters, refusing to get short changed.
But she was different too. Gone were the false bravado, the reckless decisions. Restraint and caution and responsibility taking their place. There were other changes too. Like the lean muscles he noticed on her arms, from all the fighting, all the surviving. He never looked away when she caught him staring.
He was nervous the first time he slid into bed with her, even as platonic as her invitation was.The couch is too small, she insisted. It's fine, she promised. Her house was already bursting full of people even before adding him and Marcus into the mix, so options were limited. The thought of a comfortable mattress was appealing. So was the thought of Beth.
Her gentle, even breathing became Rio's elixir for sleep. No more nightmares, no more insomnia. He always stayed on the edge of the bed, creating personal space, creating an imaginary boundary to keep them from getting tangled up, emotionally, physically, in the deep twisted way they always did. But every morning they woke up wrapped around each other, her arm tight around around his chest or his body curled completely around hers. Only in the darkness of slumber did they allow themselves to give in to the temptation and comfort of touch and body heat. With the sunrise, though, they always separated, acted as if there wasn't this charged, pulsing thing between them.
He started joining Beth on her scavenge missions. Two was safer than one, and Annie preferred staying home with the kids, fine-tuning her newest booby trap or makeshift weapon. Beth's map of Detroit was filling fast with the red circles that marked the areas she already covered, and it was getting harder and harder to go farther out by foot. But once a week they set out, looking for supplies, survivors, a little bit of hope. Sometimes they talked a lot, with nostalgia about the before times or matter-of-factly about the now times. Never about the future, that word slowly disappearing from everyone's vocabulary. Sometimes they were silent as they walked, lost in thought, tired.
The day they decided to walk to the old Chrysler factory started normally. Beth and Rio woke up early, had a breakfast of spam and baked beans, packed up their weapons and set off. They ran into a zombie horde early on, but even that was normal. Rio learned to listen carefully for them, tuning his ear over time to the dull hum of moaning and dragging and chomping that served as a preemptive warning. So he was not surprised when they saw a horde feasting ravenously on a body. A young female, barely still alive, screaming, begging for help. But there was none to give. Beth raised her gun to take her out of her misery. Her aim was excellent now, so she could hit her in the head, spare her from turning, from having to be one of them. But the gunshot would put the attention on them, and the horde was too big. Beth dropped her gun in defeat, and they quietly walked past.
The factory was cold, empty and decaying, much like the world outside it, and they entered carefully, slowly, weapons drawn. Danger took many forms, shadows were never just shadows, so Rio kept his eyes alert, focused ahead. He could hear Beth's breathing, slow and steady, in and out, as they walked side by side. Little remained of the once vibrant space. Factory equipment, books and keys strewn across the dirty concrete floors. Production lines where car after car used to come to life in shiny colorful glory were now rusty and rotting.
"They're here." Beth whispered, nodding to a horde writhing behind a closed glass door. The hinges rattled, the glass splintered from their frenzied exertion. How they ended up locked in there would remain an untold story. Before they could turn around a zombie staggered toward them, seemingly out of nowhere. Beth took it down with an efficient stab to the base of the skull. But then another came and then another and it was then that Rio knew they were in trouble.
Zombies were deceptively strong. They walked around in various stages of decomposition, the effects of rigor mortis and rot making their body parts simultaneously stiff and flimsy. But they had a unique kind of determination that came from the primal urge to feast. Their hands were like claws, even with missing fingers, easily dragging their prey into their maze of hungry mouths. And their teeth like vice clamps, snapping and chomping through flesh and muscle with ease.
They weren't fast but they loyally followed each other. So five quickly became dozens which became hundreds which became hopeless. Like now, a river of zombies streamed into the room from every direction, the outburst of activity attracting them like moths to a flame, turning the room into a deathtrap.
One of them, a security guard in his former life based on the tattered remains of his uniform, managed to get a solid grip on Rio's arm, lunging and clutching and snarling. The right side of his face still had hints of the man he used to be. But the whole left side was coming apart, the skin flapping off, both rows of his teeth exposed down to the jawbone. Seeing them up close always made Rio wonder what they saw through their sunken black eyes. Made him realize just how terrible the world had become that mutated, empty, flesh-eating things like this existed. Rio stabbed him in the temple, and started running, Beth a few steps behind having fought off her own determined attacker. They sprinted through a maze of machinery and doorways, trying to put as much distance between them and the undead as possible.
When Rio finally stopped at an exit door, he turned to look at Beth. She should have been right behind him. But she wasn't. All the hairs on his arms went up, his blood chilled. Suddenly the big cavernous room shrank in around him. He resisted the urge to shout her name, calling out would attract them, so he swallowed it into a tight ball in his throat. His body started shaking, so did his mind, at the thought of Beth being bitten. She hadn't even yelled for him, maybe never had a chance to. He'd seen it happen hundreds of times, the split second moment when one of the undead came from behind or the side, just outside your field of vision, and claimed your flesh as theirs. Surprise wanderers, they were called. He tried to shut off the images, tried to convince himself they hadn't gotten to her.
Hearing the horde getting close again, Rio barged outside. He killed three zombies on his way to the front of the building, stabbing their skulls on autopilot, fighting the panic threatening to take over his body. His muscles moved as if underwater, all his effort and speed met with resistance. The edges of his vision blurred, maybe from tears, unable to focus. Frantic, he circled the building, over and over, in and out, searching for Beth, but there was no sign of her.
Rio struggled to catch his breath, to think coherently. His brain spun, dry heaves pulsing out of his stomach, trying to expel the despair already consuming. His job was to protect Beth, to keep her safe. He had failed.
Just then he heard a gunshot, the echo pulling him out of his spiral and back to reality. He ran in the direction of the noise and saw Beth standing by the entrance gate, her gun limp in her hands. Rio wanted to run to her, hug her, yell at her. But his relief was short lived. Why was she just standing there, staring? Why was she so motionless? Vacant? She was covered in blood. Was it hers? Rio's throat tightened, so did his grip on his knife. He fought back the sob that welled inside him, and approached her quietly, from behind.
He'd know right away. He'd need just one second to see her face. The undead seemed to feel no pain, and he'd make it quick. He almost killed Beth before, in his other life. But he'd never been able to do it. This thing between them, this connection, was like oxygen to him. But if she was one of them, it wouldn't be Elizabeth he was plunging a knife into. It would be killing something that only used to be a human. Only used to be the woman he lost himself in.
Slowly he reached a shaking hand to Beth's shoulder. When she turned around, she was completely herself. There was no mistaking it in her big, deep blue eyes. He pulled her into a hug and held her tight, so tight. She was warm and soft and hugging him back. She was alive. But remembering there was no such thing as too careful, Rio pulled back. He gently frisked her, his hands running all along her arms, legs, sides, underneath her shirt. Finding no evidence of a bite mark, he hugged her again, tried to absorb the shudders from her trembling body, the tears streaming down her face. He didn't ask her what happened, he didn't need to. He recognized the stunned display of being at the brink of death. He saw it in his past life with new gang members. He saw it more than he cared to remember ever since the world fell apart.
Beth didn't talk on their long walk back home. Annie greeted them at the door, ready to lay into them about returning so late, but one look at Beth, a silent head shake from Rio, and she turned around.
"Slumber party night, everybody. Bring your sleeping bags into the basement," she said as she herded the kids down the stairs to give Beth space. Only when they walked inside did Beth speak.
"Will you warm some soup for the kids? The cans are on the counter." Her voice was quiet but steady.
"Yeah, sure." Rio looked at her suspiciously, relieved that the shaking had stopped but concerned at the empty, drained look in her eyes. He watched her closely as she made her way to the bedroom, placing her gun in the closet, kicking off her shoes, stripping her jacket along the way. He heard the splashing of her makeshift shower. The combination of jerry can and hose was simple but felt like a luxury, even more so when they let the water can sit in the sun to the warm it.
When Rio got into bed that night, there was no pretending space mattered. He couldn't stay away this time. Not from the heat of Beth's body, the softness of her breathing, the beating of her heart. He inched closer, dipped his head toward hers until he could make out the flicker of moonlight in her eyes, her expression matching his, open and vulnerable.
When he thought Beth was gone, lost forever, he let go of everything, their past, the things roaming outside, and all that remained was regret. That he'd held back with her, that his actions hadn't spoken more clearly, neither had his words.
Rio slid a hand into her hair, letting the strands fall through his fingers. He traced the outline of her face, relishing the softness of her skin, nudged into her neck, inhaling her. His fingers trailed over her arms, leaving warm goosebumps in their wake, settled on the curve of her hip. Her breath caught when his thumb skimmed under her shirt, brushing back and forth.
Ever since the infection and the zombies, hands and bodies had become mechanisms for survival, for pushing back against everything that was storming around them. Human needs were quickly displaced by violence and exhaustion. Slowing down and being gentle and using touch for pleasure seemed foreign, like learning a new language. But even after all this time, Rio quickly fell into the arousal spreading like wildfire inside him. His pulse raced, his skin buzzed, his body came alive.
There was an inevitability to the moment their lips touched. Grazing at first, slow and measured, but quickly becoming hungry and consuming and greedy. The kiss immediately felt familiar, but also different, more raw, more primal. They separated only enough to tug their clothes off.
Rio kissed a slow, lingering path down Beth's neck, cupping her breasts, felt them tighten under his touch. He kissed them, the valley between, then down her ribs, lower over her stomach. She moaned when he buried his face between her legs, the vibrations of satisfaction unfamiliar to his ears. He almost forgot what bliss sounded like. Her whimpers turned him a little wild, his tongue and fingers desperate and frenzied, but so was Beth, clutching at him, bucking against his face, wrapping her legs tight around his head as she came.
Rio trailed kisses up her body, letting her savor her orgasm, letting her feel the weight of his length on her stomach. He stared down at her, lips parted open, blue eyes glazed. When she curled a fist around him, started stroking, tracing her thumb over his head, Rio groaned. He wanted to give in to her, give into what she offered. But not like this.
Heat crackled through his body as he positioned himself between her legs, feeling how wet and ready she was. His first thrust, being inside her again, felt so good, so right. He wanted to tell her that, to tell her everything he felt but words failed him. None existed to describe her affect on him. Instead, he started moving, long and deep. He slid almost all of the way out then back in, hard. Not rough, just taking his pleasure, needing to give Beth hers.
In silence, they found a perfect rhythm. She rocked her hips up into him, asking for more and he gave it to her. More touching, more rubbing, more kissing, just more, more, more. He was a man consumed. He held nothing back. He fucked her hard, slow, fast. He gave her everything he had, everything she wanted.
Beth moaned and murmured, her hands fisted into the sheets, her hair a wild tangle. The whisper of his name on her lips when she came was enough to destroy him, to snap his control. He let it go without resistance, pumping faster, harder, more furiously. His spine tingled, his muscled tightened, until his vision went white and his entire body shook. Rio collapsed next to Beth, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to him.
Among a million other things in their new world, love also looked different and Rio almost didn't recognize it taking shape around him. If he wasn't careful, it would be easy to become numb, to take on the traits of the zombies all around them, to exist only half alive. But Rio wasn't willing to do that with Beth, even as dark and dangerous as living was.