A/N: You guys! so many reviews for the last chapter! So what you're saying is that I should put characters' lives in mortal peril more often? Got it!
kidding!
SEVEN
Rick was frozen; a statue in the middle of a fenced in back yard. Rain slapped against his exposed flesh and wind tugged at his clothing, but he took no notice. For him, the world had become still. He suddenly felt as though he'd left his body and was no longer living his life, but watching it through a television screen. Things slowed down to the point where time no longer progressed; everything was at a halt. His vision was warped; nothing made sense anymore.
A sick horror building in his gut, Rick blinked rapidly, the rain pouring off his scalp, down his brow and over his eyes, stinging them again and again with every drop. Somehow, with each blink he expected the scene in front of him to change, but it did not. With each eye opening, he was met with the same gut-wrenching vision: a zombie was attacking Kate; a zombie was biting Kate.
He'd seen attacks happen before and most of those times he was sad to admit his instinct had been to run. Granted, in each situation there wasn't just the one zombie, but several—never less than six—so running seemed the most logical thing to do. In that moment, however, Rick did not want to run. As his consciousness descended back into his body and the world's speed became normal again, he knew only one thing: he needed to save her.
"Kate!"
Though his desperate scream did nothing to deter the zombie, it served as his battle cry. His hand shot to his hip and he scrambled for his knife tucked on his belt, currently buried beneath his jacket, but it turned out there was no need. Despite her piercing screams, Kate evidently had her wits about her, because she took the fence pole in her hand and shoved it violently upwards, impaling it into the zombie's frontal bone. Murky brown blood gushed from its wound and poured down across Kate's neck and shoulder. As the zombie fell backwards, no longer a threat to anyone, Kate spun around and yanked the fence post from its head. Continuing to scream as though its teeth were still lodged in her flesh, she began stabbing the zombie repeatedly in its face and torso.
"Kate! Stop! Stop!" Rick called out, but it was no use. He wasn't even sure she could hear him over the sound of the storm coupled with her own screams. He tried to get close to her, but he dared not for fear he would be collateral damage from the way she violently swung the metal pole.
Finally, panting, she dropped the fence post and gazed over at him. They locked eyes for thirty seconds; neither of them moved or spoke. When he took a step forward, reaching out his hand and gently spoke her name, she turned away from him, stubbornly refusing as though she were a toddler. A moment later, seemingly at random, she took off running towards their camp, the chicken fence that had been so important not five minutes earlier now completely forgotten. Without consideration, Rick set off in pursuit.
Sprinting across the slippery grass as the wind and rain battered his face, the full gravity of their situation began hitting him and he quickly found himself overwhelmed. Rick wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, yell, and fall to his knees, cursing the world and everything in it.
Kate—sweet, beautiful, incredible, amazing Kate—had suffered a fatal injury right before his eyes. He was fifteen feet away, but there wasn't a goddamn thing he could have done about it—not with his back turned to her. Maybe if it hadn't been raining. Maybe if the wind hadn't been quite as strong. Maybe if he hadn't been wearing a hood that dulled almost all his senses. He knew for certain he would be reliving that moment and second guessing all their decisions until his last day on the planet.
Emotions now choking him and causing his chest to tighten, Rick's fingertips began to fumble with the slicker. What did it matter anymore if his clothes were soaked through? They were already wet from sweat anyway. Besides, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing at all.
Midway across the cul-de-sac he shed the rain jacket and continued after her. Damn she was fast. How the hell was she so fast? Oh. Right. As a cop she probably had to chase down criminals, where as he, the writer, only ran after perps in his mind.
As he rounded the corner of the garage of the main house, he finally caught up to her and reached out a hand to stop any further progress. He wanted to scream, grab her arms and shake her, demand to know why she hadn't listened to him. If they had just stayed in the treehouse like he wanted, they would be fine. They would be dry. They wouldn't have been attacked, but no, she had to check on the god damned, mother-fucking chickens.
He wanted to yell that at her, but he couldn't, because he had seen too much. If it wasn't this attack, it would be another one. A week, two weeks, a month from then. The timeline was the only unknown, but the attack was a certainty. If a horde of more than five or six came up on them they would both have gone down, no question. All the knives and guns in the world couldn't save them then; it was a numbers game and it appeared Kate's number was finally up.
"Where—where the hell are you going?" he panted at her, his heart still thundering from the sudden sprint.
She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and shook her head. "I ca-can't—I can't be around you if I've been bit."
Her tone indicated that she was crying, and it took the knife through his heart and twisted it just a little bit further. "Kate just-"
She turned away from the hand he reached out and moved two steps away from him. "It's okay; you don't have to worry about it. You can keep the treehouse."
His stomach lurched. God, he couldn't take it. He couldn't stand the concept of her not being there; of not waking up beside her. Not when….shit—why did it all have to end like this? "Stop it. Stop talking like that."
"What do you mean stop?" She spat the words at him, the evidence of tears quickly replaced by fury. "You know what happens to anyone who gets bit, don't you?"
Rick fought the urge to wince. He'd seen it only once to a member of the group he originally joined along with his mother and daughter. Before then, there had only been rumors and speculation. There had been so many zombies in Manhattan, it was plain the plague was spreading somehow. Some said it was air-born. Some said you needed to come in physical contact—like get their tainted blood in your mouth, eye, or an open wound. Some said it was not just a bite that was needed, but a full kill. In the end, it didn't much matter, since zombies rarely left their victims intact enough to survive.
One day, about three weeks after they'd left the city, his group came upon a trio of survivors, one of whom had recently suffered an attack. All things considered, the wound didn't look bad: a small bite across the top of two fingers. It looked like the kind of thing you washed out, put Neosporin and a Band-Aid on and it would be fine in five to seven days. In fact, that was exactly what they did: wiped the girl's hand down with sanitizing wipes, put on antiseptic ointment and a bandage. For a day, she was fine. Then, the fever set in.
A nurse in the group thought immediately it was an infection, so they gave her antibiotics, but the pills did no good. By the second morning the girl's body was slicked with sweat and she could no longer respond verbally. Her body shook, heaved, and shuttered for four miserable hours until she became still. He honestly hadn't known what was worse: witnessing the girl's parents watch her final moments of suffering or the looks on their faces an hour later when she was up grumbling and snapping at them with her teeth.
To imagine Kate in such a position was almost unthinkable. The mental image of her pale, sweat-covered and shaking made him want to vomit, but that didn't mean he was going to leave her, even if it would break his heart to stay. "Yes, Kate; I know." He rasped out. "But-"
"No 'but' Rick; this is the end."
She tried to walk away, but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her arm and held her firm. "Stop. We need to—let's just—god damn it I cannot even thinking with this damn rain!" They needed to think. They needed to talk. They needed to plan and all of that needed to be done while secluded from the elements.
Using his hand under her arm as leverage, he dragged her past the garage and up onto the back porch to the door they'd left unlocked. "Get inside," he told her, but she merely blinked at him.
"What's the point?"
Tired of her stubbornness and more than sick of being pelted with precipitation, he gave her a little shove. "Just go."
As Kate stumbled inside the house, her feet evidently giving up along with her heart, she felt a pinch in her shoulder wound and suddenly felt as though her stomach were about to leap out of her mouth. She could still feel them—the teeth scraping against the flesh on her shoulder. She would remember that moment for as long as she lived—however much longer that was—and probably into the hereafter, if there was such a thing.
Stupid. She had been so stupid.
She had spent the prior six months being the high-alert, highly-trained cop that she was only to allow herself to be blinded by, what? Compassion for chickens? She was a moron!
Why hadn't she realized that if she could barely hear Rick yelling to her through the wind and the rain she would never be able to hear the grunts, groans, and scrapings of an approaching zombie? Stupid. So fucking stupid. She had committed suicide for a few eggs.
Rick had been right; it wasn't worth it. As was her M.O. she hadn't listened to anyone else because she thought she was correct, and in the end that had been her demise. The sad part was her manor of death wasn't even that shocking. How many times had her CO's told her that she was too stubborn for her own good? That her charging into a situation without backup, with utter disregard for her own safety, was going to get her killed one day? If she'd heard it once, she'd heard it a dozen times. As a cop, she'd accepted it, because she still felt as though she was doing the right thing. In this life? She wasn't so sure.
"Kate. C'mere. Let me look at your shoulder and see how bad it is."
She let out a mirthless laugh and refused to look at her companion. "What does it matter? A bite is a bite."
Possibly if she had her finger bit or maybe even her hand they could cut it off and maybe—maybe—she could survive it. But her shoulder? They'd have to cut off half her body, which was not only impossible, but one hundred percent not survivable.
"Just let me look at it."
Kate was vaguely aware of Rick's hand against her arm, guiding her towards the breakfast nook area of the home where there was the most light. She felt him pulling her soaking wet hair away from her neck and tugging at the edge of her now filth-covered t-shirt on the side she was wounded. When he said, "I need to take your shirt off to see," she stood there like a mannequin and allowed him to lift her arms and take her top off. She was too lost in her thoughts to care what was happening to her physically. In her head, Kate was planning.
She would not allow herself to turn. If nothing else, she would leave the world knowing her undead body could not do damage to others. In order to remain dead, she needed to end her life by inflicting damage to her brain in some way. The gun back in the treehouse made the most sense. Though it would be hard—damn near impossible—she knew she'd have to be the one to pull the trigger. She couldn't do it in the treehouse. She couldn't do it in the woods just in case Rick would come across her body while gathering wood for a fire or searching for food.
"You don't have worry, Rick," she rasped out, her voice suddenly thick with emotion. "I'll take care of it myself. I'll go into one of those houses we don't use. I'll have to use the gun, but…but you'll have to come get it after so you have it." The last thing Kate wanted was for Rick to see her body with her skull and brain no longer intact, but there was no other way. She couldn't use the gun and return it to him, but yet she knew he was better off with the weapon, even if she did only have less than a dozen bullets remaining.
"Kate." She was vaguely away of the feeling of cloth against her neck. Evidently Rick was using her soaked t-shirt to wash the zombie blood off her flesh, though she wasn't sure why. Why did it matter how clean or dirty she was when her time left alive was now measured in minutes not even days?
Kate felt her hands begin to tremble at the concept of ending her own life. Standing there in that moment, the concept was hard to fathom. She never understood suicide, but that was back when she lived in a world with hope. Even as it was now in its post-apocalyptic state, the world had hope, though admittedly a significantly lower amount of it. Before Rick came along, she could not say she considered suicide, but she did struggle to see a reason to continue living day-to-day when the end seemed so inevitable. With Rick, however, everything was different.
She shook her head and her bottom lip began to tremble as she remembered her thoughts from that morning, lying in bed with him. She'd thought about a future. Right. A future. Just about the only good thing about her injury was that it afforded her the opportunity to say goodbye and make sure the one she left behind was well taken care of.
"You remember where my food stores are, right? I can show you again, I guess. I probably have about a day, maybe two, before things get really bad. I can't wait too long, though; I don't want you to have to do it."
"Kate."
"It's fine." She knew he didn't want to talk about it. Hell, she didn't want to talk about it, but that's what this new world brought: hard times and harder decisions. Sniffing, she brought the back of her hand up to rub against her nose. "It's funny. Being a cop, I always thought I'd take a bullet, I just never thought I'd be the-"
"Kate!" His voice was forceful enough to surprise her, but what really shocked her was the way he grabbed both her biceps and spun her around so she could face him. His expression was difficult to read; an odd amalgamation of relief and nausea. "Kate your skin isn't broken!"
His words barely processed in her brain. Her brow wrinkled as she studied the migrating emotions on his face. "What?"
He half laughed and released one of her arms so he could brush the underside of his nose. His eyes welling with emotion, he shook his head gently at her. "The skin isn't broken Kate! You weren't bit!" Without even waiting for her to respond, he pulled her into his embrace and crushed her body against his chest.
Kate still struggled to process his words. She heard them, but they didn't make any sense. His voice had been happy—excited, even. His face was no longer pale, but steadily filling with color. And now he was hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. "I—I don't…"
The writer pushed himself back but continued to hold onto her arms as he tilted his head to the side and gazed at her curiously. "Kate are you alright? Or are you in shock?"
"I don't…" She began slowly as she brought her left hand up to skim over the bare flesh on her right side just below her neck. She smoothed the pads of her index and middle fingers over the pristine area, utterly amazed. "I don't….but I….I felt him bite me!" That's how she knew the zombie was behind her; the sharp arch of teeth against the top of her scapula.
Rick shook his head. "He must have only gotten your shirt."
Kate immediately felt she was on the decent of the world's tallest rollercoaster. Her breathing sped and her heart raced; her vision began to cloud in from the sides and she swayed on her feet. "I…I don't…are you sure?" Oh god, oh god, could this be happening? Was it even possible that she was not dying?
For the first time that afternoon, a grin broke out onto Rick's face and his disbelief turned to full-blown joy. "Yes! Yes I'm sure!" He gripped her cheeks with his hand, kissed her forehead and pulled her body into his. "You're okay; you're going to be okay."
Despite her companions happy laughter, Kate still couldn't move; nothing in her brain was making sense. "Oh—oh I god I—I thought-"
"I know, I know." He sighed and rocked her back and forth in the hug. "But you're going to be okay!"
Suddenly, as her pulsing adrenaline began to subside, Kate felt certain she was going to vomit. Using her hands against his sides she pushed herself away from him and, for an inexplicable reason, sprinted not towards the kitchen sink, but out the patio door. In her haste, her sneaker slipped against the concrete surface and she collapsed down onto her hands and knees, waiting for the heave of her stomach, but it never came. With the rain pounding against her back, Kate hyperventilated and tried to calm her racing heart and scattered mind.
She wasn't bit. She wasn't bit. She wasn't bit.
Though Rick seemed quit convinced, she struggled to believe it, especially when she could still feel the moment of impact so vividly. Using her fingertips, she traced over all the skin she could reach but found no indentation. The skin was clean and unbroken as he said, yet if she shut her eyes, she could still feel the ghost of the zombie's teeth as though they were still there, gnawing at her flesh, but they weren't.
She was okay. She was alive. She was going to keep living.
Slowly, using her fingertips against the concrete, Kate pushed herself up into a crouch and then into a full standing position. The rain smacking against her eyelids made it difficult to see, but she hardly took much notice. All she could see was Rick watching at her from where he stood in the doorway. Her shirt still hung limp from his hand and he gazed at her patient, but concerned. Putting one foot barely a few inches in front of the other, Kate approached the house once more.
He stepped aside to let her in and shut the door behind her as he spoke her name gently. The sound of her name on his lips sent her mind reeling back to the moment of the attack when, despite her own screams, she heard her name vault across the clearing when he yelled. His tone had been frantic, desperate. As he'd chased her down, it had been pleading, his eyes filled with terror. The idea of how deeply her absence would have affected him rocked her to her very core and her body shuddered.
"We should probably get out of these wet clothes."
His voice was barely above a whisper, but when she turned to him, her heart caught in her throat. She had almost died. She had almost died without ever kissing him, touching him, or telling him how she felt about him and that would have been a horrible mistake.
Their lives were so delicate then. Anything could change in an instant. The post-apocalyptic world did not afford them the opportunity of time or second chances. They needed to live for the moment in the moment and that was precisely what she planned on doing.
Stepping up to him, Kate locked eyes with the writer and reached out for his belt. "Yes," she said just as her hands landed on the buckle; she watched him swallow hard. "We should." With that, she popped the buckle open and she heard his breath as it hitched in his chest.
"Kate."
Tingles flooded down her spine at the husk in his tone. There was no question in her mind that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Rising up on her toes, she skimmed her hands up his chest, over the back of his neck and into the hair at the base of his skull. It was soaking wet and dripping water down onto her wrists, but she didn't care; she only needed him.
With very little effort, she guided their mouths together. Their lips met just as his hands fell onto her hips and he drew her in. The kiss shot white lightening across her vision. For the first time since the world ended, Kate felt truly alive again and she knew that Rick was the man she was meant to be living for.
Breaking their kiss, Rick leaned back and gazed down at her, love pouring from his eyes. He skimmed his right hand up her side and landed his fingers against her cheek. He skimmed her damp flesh with the pad of his thumb and, slowly, they both smiled and shared a breathy laugh. "Kate." He sighed again and she needed no further invitation.
They flew together once more lips colliding as hands grappled at clothing and flesh. It wasn't until that moment that Kate fully realized she stood before him in only a bra, but at that point her state of undress was merely saving them time; it was already inevitable.
"Oh, god, Kate." Rick groaned as her tongue smoothed over his lower lip. Using his hands cupping her ass as leverage, he turned her body and began walking her backwards towards the adjoining seating area. "Couch?"
"Uh huh," she replied, breathless. She pulled his belt from out of the loops on his pants and let it drop to the floor with a thud. When she grasped at the button on the pants, he let out a groan that traveled down her spine and landed directly between her legs. She hadn't had sex in months and it never bothered here until that moment when she could think of nothing but getting them both undressed as quickly as possible.
As Rick mirrored her movements and unbuttoned her shorts, he asked, "Have you been with anyone since-?"
"No."
"Me neither."
As they had reached the couch, their mouths separated for the length of time it took Kate to pull his drenched shirt up and over his head. She gave it a toss and the fabric landed with a slap against the hardwood. Placing her fingertips against his breastbone, she gave the writer a tiny shove so that his knees collapsed and he landed with a small grunt on the couch. She grinned and pushed her shorts off her hips before straddling his lap wearing nothing but her undergarments.
Kate kissed her way across Rick's jaw and throat, licking up the beads of rainwater and feeling the roughness of his beard against her tongue. He groaned and dug his fingertips into the flesh at her hips until, suddenly, he pushed her away and cursed. "Wait, wait…shit."
Barely able to focus on anything other than their mostly-naked bodies, Kate breathily asked, "What?"
"I don't—I mean we don't have any birth control. That's bad, right?" he asked, his face contorting into a grimace.
While she did agree that an unintended pregnancy during the time of no electricity and no accessible medical care would be a problem, it was one they most unfortunately did not have to worry about. "'s fine," she said skimming her hand down his chest and over his toned stomach. "I have an IUD." As any pills, rings, or patches would have long since run out, she had never been more thankful for that late-twenties family planning decision.
"That works."
"Definitely." She echoed, grinding her hips against his lap. His jaw dropped as his mouth formed an O-shape and she almost chuckled; he was adorable. Reaching her arms behind her, she expertly undid her bra clasp and tossed the garment over the back of the couch. The writer's jaw dropped even further if that was possible.
Rick's hand skimmed from her hip up her side and to the underneath of her breast. Shaking his head, he breathed out, "You're so beautiful," before pulling her body into his so he could use his lips against her neck and throat. "I was….I was so scared…scared I'd lost you," he said in-between kisses.
"I know."
"But you're okay...you're here…and you-"
"Rick." She cut him off and tapped the underside of his chin so he would look up at her.
"Yes?"
"Do you always talk this much?" While adorable, his attempt at conversation was also a bit distracting.
A slight blush crept into his cheeks. "Um...sometimes." Then he shrugged sheepishly. "Curse of a writer."
"Well then maybe you should focus more on kissing me." She suggested before bringing their lips back together.
With his arm around her back, Rick guided Kate to the couch beneath him, their lips still intertwined. Just as he was about to stretch out above her, thunder cracked overhead so violently that the entire house shook. It started them both so much that their lips broke apart with a gasp. Kate even looked around, half expecting the ceiling to be damaged in some way.
"You know, I think there's a joke in here somewhere," Rick said as he used the opportunity to divest himself of his remaining items of clothing before joining her on the couch once more.
"What joke?"
"Something about feeling the earth move during sex."
Despite the intimate mood, Kate couldn't help but laugh at his cheeky grin. She used her hand behind his head to pull his solid weight back down on top of her; in that moment she had never been happier to be alive.
A/N: and you guys were so worried :P But seriously - thank you so much for all the reviews!
