When the Man Comes Around: Survive? Yeah, we survived the apparent end of the world. But, there's a lot more to surviving than just staying alive. When the world tries to take a bite out of you, sometimes you have to fight back. And you have to fight back with everything you have.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any ownership to any of the characters that may be recognized throughout this story. Several characters from the Resident Evil Universe are portrayed in this story, but they are in no way the main characters. However, the storyline does borrow from concepts presented in the Capcom creations, so please do not sue me! In addition, Kurt Morgan is a creation of a good friend of mine; I'm merely borrowing him.

Rating: This story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences only. Adult content including coarse language and a great deal of violence and gore. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with zombie-related things!

"Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation." - Mason Cooley

Chapter Nine

(Natalie)

"It's not so bad."

Jo wrinkled up her nose as she clambered onto the narrow cot that would serve as her bed for the foreseeable future. The truck trailers looked as I'd expected they would on the inside, but they were at least clean and livable. Each, I'd been told, were outfitted with a bed, to two depending, a single crate for clothing, and a bucket. The quarters that we'd been placed in were a little more upscale in that our trailer included a small desk, a folding chair, and a single desk lamp – as well as access to electricity and running water via an extension cord and a water spigot just outside of our door.

"It's dull," Jo commented dryly, sighing as she started tucking her things under her cot. I'd offered her the real bed a dozen times, but she refused to take it. "At least we're close to Willie."

Which was a little weird.

When I'd been led to the housing containers, I'd been told that they were separated based on position in the Outpost. Those in the military were placed separately from the teachers and the cooks and the other workers. And, for some reason, we'd been placed in the cluster of containers that were designated for Morgan and his men. What was more, most people were at least four or five, sometimes more, to a container. But, those in the military section were only at three max.

Ranger was in the container below ours, and Coop and Willie were in the upper one next to ours. I wasn't even sure where the others in our group had ended up – I just knew that they were in the civilian section.

When in the hell had I'd wound up not being a civilian?

A knock sounded at the door and Jo was on her feet in an instant, pulling open the rickety door. I glanced over in surprise as the weakening sunlight was sucked away by a figure literally filling the doorway. It was Ranger.

"He wants to talk to you," Jo explained as she hurried back to her cot and pulled her small green canvas pack over one shoulder. I cringed as she pulled the magazine out of a 9mm before tucking it into the holster at the small of her back. With a wave in my direction, she swept under the man's arm and out the door. "Gonna visit with Willie."

I felt more than a little awkward with Ranger watching me. So, I turned my back to him and continued addressing my gear. The trailer darkened considerably when the man stepped inside completely and let the door swing shut behind him. A bit of light filled the trailer and I realized with a start that he'd lit a lantern.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on Jo earlier." I sat down on the edge of the lumpy bed and pulled open my pack, eying its contents warily. He shuffled forward and I lifted my gaze in surprise when I realized that he was standing right next to the bed. "Ranger?"

He continued to stare down at me and I stood slowly, brows furrowed. He looked a little off, and I wasn't sure why. His tanned skin looked normal, but his eyes were darker than usual. "What did Morgan say?"

I sighed in relief as my shoulders slumped forward slightly. After a moment, I filled him in on the details. He stared down at me, those eyes unchanging and his features blank. I answered the few questions he asked, and after I'd explained the tour and the meetings (technically two since there was nearly a twenty minute break in it), I felt drained.

"Shit." That said it all. Ranger wasn't a man of many words, but that said it all. Shit. Shit. Shit!

Sighing, I turned my attention back to my pack, pulling out two changes of clothes and laying them carefully on the lumpy bed. I wrinkled my nose at the sheet that was on the bed and found myself wondering if I'd be able to barter something for fresh bed linens. A hiss escaped my lips when his hand came to rest on the back of my neck, his bare hand warm on my skin.

"Nat." There was something about the way he said my name that made sparks race down my spine. I froze, grasping an undershirt tightly.

"Yeah?" I glanced over my shoulder and was startled by the look in his eyes. He squeezed his fingers slightly and my stomach clenched in response. For the first time in a very long time, I found myself thinking about kissing a man.

I eyed his lips, wondering what they would feel like against mine. But, of course, my imagination took the thought several steps further. Of course, once those thoughts bounced around my head, I found myself flushing in response. There was no place for those sort of thoughts. Not anymore.

I turned on my heel slightly, facing him and causing Ranger to drop his hand to his side. There was only an inch or two between us, but it felt more like a mile. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew what sort of effect he had on me. Was there a bright light that started flashing over my head whenever he looked at me or even got close? Was there a sign posted on my chest that said Take me for a ride!?

"Babe, you gotta be careful." His fingers danced over my side and my eyes widened when he rested his hand upon the knife sheathed at my hip. My breath caught in my throat when he unsnapped the strap and slid the knife free, sliding it out of the sheath before tucking it back in. "Jo worries about you."

"She does?" It was all that I could manage under the circumstance, as I could hardly think, what with him resting his hand at the small of my back, where my Beretta was holstered. "Why?"

"You worry too much." He pulled the gun out, slid the magazine out and ejected a bullet from the chamber, and sat the gun down on top of a worn pair of jeans that lay on the rumpled bed. I hissed in a breath when his fingers splayed across my belt buckle, and I could only stare up at him as he tugged it free and slid my belt out, pulling off my weapons one at a time and tossing them onto the bed. "She said you sleep like this, flat on your back, one hand on your gun."

Did I? Oh, yeah. I probably did. Sometimes I slept only in a t-shirt and panties, but there was always a gun under my pillow and a knife within reach. The last thing I wanted was to be a midnight snack for an undead son of a bitch. Sure, sometimes I slept fully clothed, boots next to my bed and flat on my back so that I could reach any of my weapons at a moment's notice – that didn't make me paranoid, did it?

"You and I both know that you're guilty of the same charge, Ranger." It wasn't playful banter. Not exactly. I wasn't even sure if anyone could get away with playful banter when Ranger was involved. "I'm not going to let a silly mistake like unpreparedness be the end of me. I've got Jo to look after."

He was silent as he stared down at me, his eyes unwavering. My jeans sunk a little lower on my hips, thanks to the absence of a belt, but I didn't mind. I was too busy trying to figure out if it would be inappropriate to politely request he take off the rest of my clothing. It probably wouldn't be, but it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?

"We're not alone anymore," he murmured, making me glance toward the door. Nobody was there. We were alone. "Not like that," he explained, the closest to a real smile I'd ever seen on his face. The pad of his thumb was rough as he rubbed circles against the exposed skin of my sides between my shirt and the top of my jeans. "We're not just a unit anymore, we're a whole army."

Oh, he meant the Outpost. Of course he meant the Outpost. He wasn't warning me that slowly sliding my hands up his shirt and rubbing my hands against his chest was a bad idea while we were in the company of another person. Furthermore, I'm sure he didn't mean that reaching down and unclasping his jeans and – oh, I'm certain he was referring to the Outpost.

I licked my lips and realized that he was staring at me. "Oh, I know. It's a habit. Habitual. Is it warm in here? Wow, it's warm in here."

To my amazement, he chuckled, the sound warm and delicious. Slowly, he backed away, hands at his side. But, I didn't want his hands at his side, I wanted them – well, I wanted them on me. "We head out for our first recon in the morning. Morgan, two of his men, you, me, and Coop. Be up before sunrise so you can eat."

"Okay." It sounded like a reasonable plan when it came from his lips. But, they always did. "And a shower, of course. I'll see you then. I mean, in the morning. Not in the shower." My mind turned to mush at the thought of accidentally walking into the community shower and finding Ranger – all alone. "Uh."

"In the morning," he agreed, slipping away and out the door before I could even try to reel in my senses.

I stared at the door as I slumped back, awkwardly sitting on the bed. My nerves were frazzled and I knew why, but I couldn't seem to wrap my head around it. My weapons lay beside me, most of them, except for the ones still hidden on my person.

"Nat?" I blinked in surprise as Jo appeared in front of me, a smile upon her face. "I went and grabbed us some food. They said it's macaroni."

I sniffed the air when I noticed the large plate in her hands and grimaced. It smelled like burnt shoes, but it almost looked edible. Kind of. Sure, it resembled a burnt lump of creamed corn, but maybe it was edible. "Looks good," I managed, smiling slightly as she slid onto the bed next to me, plate balanced on her lap.

She took the first bite, using an old and slightly bent spoon. I watched as she chewed, forcing lingering thoughts of Ranger out of my head. It wasn't easy, but the sight of my little sister certainly helped.

"Not bad," she muttered as she shoved a spoon into my hand. "Eat up. Coop said you gotta get up early. Make sure you wake me up; I heard that the water's still hot early in the morning. Otherwise you're stuck with cold water."

I nodded in silent agreement as I dipped the spoon into the concoction and popped it into my mouth, only grimacing slightly as I chewed. It wasn't terrible, but it sure wasn't macaroni the way I remembered it.

"I miss Mom's macaroni," Jo whispered softly, fork poised in her hand. "Maybe we can try to make it when this is all over."

My appetite was gone but I forced myself to eat my half of the food in silence. We'd learned the hard way that you couldn't afford to be picky when there was always a chance every meal was your last. When I finished, I dropped my spoon on the plate and watched her walk toward the door, knowing somehow that she was taking care of our mess. She often did. Sometimes, Jo was more of an adult than me.

"Macaroni for dinner and hot fudge sundaes for dessert," I promised as she slipped outside. She paused for just a second before she kept going. "And I'll save some of the chocolate syrup for Ranger," I added to myself, smiling in mirth.

I flopped back on the bed tiredly, too exhausted to tug my boots off. The top of the truck trailer wasn't any more appealing than the walls, but it was apparently my new home.

For now.