Gloom. Tiled floors. Shelves stocked with aspirin, condoms, hemorrhoid cream, and Ace bandages. Lynn paused at a display of prepackaged first aid kits and picked one up, turning it over in her hands and reading the label. "We don't need that," Lori said as she passed behind and made her way toward the pharmacy in the back.
"We might," Lynn said.
They were in a strip mall Rite-Aid just across the border in Ohio, Lincoln in the front keeping watch and Luan sticking so close you'd think they were siamese twins. Lisa, in the van with Leni ("We'd both me more of a hindrance than a help") sent them in with a list of things they might need, including heavy-duty painkillers. She handed it specifically to Lynn, but as soon as they got through the door, Lori plucked it from her hand.
Presently, Lori went through a door flanking the counter and disappeared into the back. Lynn sat down the first aid kit and moved onto a rack of magazines: COSMOPOLITAN, GLAMOUR: WOMEN WEEKLY. Ten sex tips to drive your man wild; summer sex confessional; moves to make him want you. Lynn blew a raspberry. That's all these things talk about. Sex, sex, sex. They're worse than a porno.
Her interest was aroused, though; like it or not, she was a girl and she got turned on, even now, during the apocalypse. It made her feel guilty to feel that way when her parents and three of her sisters were dead and everything was falling apart around her. Everything's collapsing, she'd think as she laid in her sleeping bag at night, and here I am thinking about my freaking crotch. She plucked one from the stand and opened it up, landing on an interview with Oprah. Nope, not what I wanna see.
"Lynn!"
She jumped a foot and whipped her head toward the pharmacy. Lori leaned over the counter from the other side, her hands splayed on the edge. "Are you coming?"
"Yes," Lynn replied sharply. Just as soon as I read some spicy sex stuff. "Give me a minute."
Lori rolled her eyes and turned away. "Whatever."
You know...Lynn loved her sister dearly, but she could be so damn bossy sometimes. As soon as Mom and Dad...you know...Lori stepped in and took charge like a dictator. Do this, don't do that blah blah blah. She was the oldest and had experience managing everyone, so it was only natural that everyone would look to her as a leader (even Lynn, though she wouldn't admit it out loud), but sheesh. Can the Hitler routine.
She leafed through the pages until she found it: A whole page of things to drive a guy wild. Hmm. Lynn had never been with a guy, had barely held hands with one, so this was fascinating new ground for her. She was ready to ingest every single word as gospel, commit it to memory, and one day put it to use on a guy...if they weren't all dead, but a scream shattered the silence, and she jerked, the magazine falling from her hands. A single gunshot followed, rolling through the darkened store like thunder. When Lynn burst through the door, she found Lori standing dazed in a corner, a zombie freshly dead at her feet and a gaping, bloody bite mark on her right forearm.
Later.
Lori lie on the floor, thrashing and screaming, Lincoln pinning one wrist to the ground and Luna the other. Lucy held a foot and so did Luan. Leni sat against a shelf, her knees drawn to her chest. Lisa held a lantern aloft, the flickering glow casting her face in hellish light. Lynn gulped and looked at the machete in her hand; the blade was wickedly sharp, and gleamed in the firelight. "Do it," Lisa said. "It's the only chance we have."
On the floor, Lori let out a wail.
In the past month, since the dead started to walk, Lynn had seen and done things that haunted her sleep - she'd found that she was tougher in ways than she thought, and weaker too. She loved her family, though, and she would do anything to keep them alive, but this? Chopping her own sister's arm off while she fought and sobbed on the floor? Her stomach knotted and she began to shake.
"Now, goddamn it!" Lisa roared.
Lynn darted her eyes to Lori's - pooled with primal fear. "Please don't," the older girl said in a broken, beseeching tone. Lynn looked next at the wound, and though she couldn't see it, she knew that Death festered there, creeping slowly through Lori's body like the coming night, cursing and infecting everything it touched. Once it got to her heart, she was a goner.
It was either take the arm or watch her sister die.
Baring her teeth in a pained grimace, Lynn lifted the machete and brought it down…
She collapsed against a tree trunk and bowed her head, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Lincoln turned, saw, and came back. "Come on," he panted, "we have to go."
They'd been in the woods for what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, running at first, leaping over fallen trees and kicking through drifts of dead leaves from autumns past. Their pace eventually slowed to a brisk walk, and as the tides of adrenaline began to recede, the horrible realization that Luan was gone, and that it was her fault, fully struck Lynn, like a bullet. She remembered the tortured look in her sister's eyes, the hurt and betrayal, and her knees gave out. Lincoln caught her and held her up. His face was ashen and his eyes dark. When he spoke, his voice seemed muted, faraway. "We have to go," he said patiently, "they're not that far behind."
Matthiasville, Ohio, spread out on either side of US 23, a cracked and sunbaked two lane highway divided by a grassy median. The land surrounding it was tabletop flat and parched, the grass brown and the clustered groves of trees wilted by intense summer heat.
They'd been following 23 for the last hundred miles, a trek that took three days because near Waynesburg Vanzilla's front driver side tire exploded, sending them careening into a ditch and leaving them without a vehicle. They sheltered that night in a farmhouse overlooking a stand of trees, and the next morning Lynn, Luna, and Leni went off in search of a replacement. They came across the Bronco parked on a narrow unpaved road running behind the farm, the keys danging from the ignition and the back already loaded with boxes of supplies; it was as if God Himself had put it there for them.
It was mid-afternoon when they reached the town; the interstate bisected it and flowed under 23 like a frozen river, cars dotting it at sloppy angles. The land sloped down from either side of the highway and turned into fenced yards and surface streets presided over by tiny ranch houses and brick buildings with big glass windows. Lynn took the off-ramp and followed a wide drag past a rush of motels, gas stations, and fast food joints before pulling into an empty parking lot facing a Kroger. They were running low on food and other things - like tampons. Lynn and Luna were both on the rag, and they used the last two during their stop back in Marion.
She pulled the Bronco up to the front, spun the wheel, and backed up to the door, getting as close as possible. When there was just enough room to open the hatch, she killed the engine and glanced at Lincoln, who sat in the passenger seat, an M-16 propped between his legs - they stumbled across a military convoy that stalled out east of Parker and took a bunch of guns and medical supplies. There was little in the way of food, though, and no tampons...because of course there weren't.
"Ready?" she asked.
He nodded determinedly.
Since taking charge of the group after Lori died, Lynn had come to rely on Lincoln as her right hand man. He was smart, cunning, always planning, and...well...sometimes she just liked looking over and seeing him next to her, knowing he was safe and by her side.
In truth, he'd been her second-in-command since Royal Woods, when chaos reigned in the house and no one knew what to do. Lori was useless in the beginning, and Lynn wound up making most of the early decisions. Then, Lori snapped out of it and took control, relegating her and Lincoln to simply part of the pack, not that Lynn really minded...much. She and Lincoln sat next to each other, talked to each other about their nightmares and emotions, and when it came time to leave the van, they did it as a pair, always looking out for one another.
"Alright, everyone," Lynn said and threw open the door. "Buddy system."
Now that she was in charge, she made sure that her siblings were never alone the way Lori was...the way Lynn left her. Had she been there, Lori would probably still be alive now. It was her fault her older sister was dead, and she would carry that like a black mark on her soul until the day she died, but never again.
Never.
Outside, everyone paired off and went into the store: Luan and Luna, Lucy and Leni, and Lincoln and Lynn. Lisa stayed in the car to keep watch...and because she was afraid to be outside, no matter how much she denied it.
Inside, the store was dark and hot, the stagnant air heavy with the reek of rotting meat and produce. Checkout counters stood empty, shelf-flanked aisles deserted save for carts and things dropped in the final rush for supplies before the store closed. Lynn grabbed a cart and went right, closely followed by Lincoln. "Only things we can cook over an open fire!" she called to her sisters as they spread out. "Or eat cold!" Her voice echoed, and the unnatural quality of it made her shiver.
From the front, she made a B-line toward the personal care aisle, only realizing when she got there that Lincoln being there was kind of awkward...she was getting tampons, after all. "Uh...can you go grab some soap?" she asked with a flush.
Nodding, he turned and went back down the aisle; Lynn snatched a box of tampons and shoved them under her shirt before he could return. As they went on, she frowned to herself. Hm. She'd never been weird about things like that before - in fact, there were times she actually asked Lincoln to grab her a tampon from the bathroom because the cramps were so bad she couldn't get out of bed. Even so, all of a sudden she was kind of...shy? Nooo, was she? She thought of how she felt when she imagined grabbing tampons in front of Lincoln, her heart bouncing and her stomach tightening. He'd know exactly what she was going to do with them, and also that she was nasty and bloody and…
A loud crash from the other side of the store silenced that thought. Lucy screamed in horror, and Lynn shoved the cart away, then ran as fast as she could to get to her, Lincoln right behind her. What she found…
What she found…
...Leni, lying on the floor, a zombie dead next to her and Lucy holding a bat. Lynn's eyes went to her older sister, and when she saw her stomach laid open, blood gushing and intestines hanging out like ropes of sausage, her nervous system locked up, the air leaving her lungs in a horrified rush.
Luan and Luan appeared at the other end of the aisle, Luan's hands flying to her mouth and Luna's face paling. They rushed over and knelt beside Leni, along with Lincoln. Leni wept in pain and fear, howling miserably when Lincoln shifted her.
Someone, Lynn wasn't in the frame of mind to know who, got Lisa, and she came in clutching a black leather bag like an old timey doctor making a house call. She examined Leni then took Lynn aside. "There's nothing we can do," she whispered and glanced at the dying girl, their siblings clustered around, Lincoln and Lucy holding her hands and Luan stroking her forehead. Lynn's brain felt muddled, mired, and she had trouble understanding Lisa's words. She was cold too, so cold, and shaking.
"She's beyond our help," Lisa clarified. "The only thing that can be done is…"
Lynn blinked and found herself standing over her oldest living sister, the Desert Egae in her hand. "It hurts so bad," Leni sobbed, her voice hitching, "please make it stop, Lynn. Make it stop…"
Swallowing thickly, Lynn tried to raise the gun, but it was too heavy, a hundred pounds, a thousand, a million. She looked into Leni's eyes, and she thought she saw the same thing she saw in Lori's: Accusation. Why did you let this happen to me? You're supposed to be in charge. You're supposed to protect me.
The gun fell from her hand as she broke down in tears. Lincoln came over and took her in his arms, his voice soothing. I don't deserve to be soothed. I killed Leni.
Sighing deeply, Lisa got on her knees next to Leni and pulled a syringe from the bag, along with a vial they took from the Toledo Rite-Aid. Holding the bottle upside down, she jabbed the point in and retracted the plunger. "It's alright," she told the crying girl, "this will make the pain go away."
She sank the needle into Leni's arm and pushed a lethal dose of morphine into her body. WIthin moments, her tears stopped and her crying ceased. A minute later, her ragged breathing faded, and her chest no longer fell...no longer rose.
Lynn stumbled and nearly fell to her knees - the blacktop was sudden, the surface uneven, several inches higher than the gravel shoulder. Lincoln darted into the middle of the road and looked around: It crested a hill to the right and continued straight to the left. Dense forest pressed close to either side, broken here and there by driveway entrances flanked by mailboxes. Lynn caught her balance and stepped onto the pavement, her eyes flicking madly around. She didn't see danger, but she never did until it was on top of her and one of her family was dying.
"This way," Lincoln said, nodding toward the straightaway. "That should lead us back to Gore."
Gore was a town they passed through...or were going to pass through...she thought. Thinking was hard, and despite running for hours, days, covered in sweat and dirt and pine needles, she was so cold her teeth chattered. She took a step, but vertigo came over her like a wave, and she almost went down. Lincoln turned and frowned deeply. He came over, put hands on her shoulders, and stared into her eyes, his brow creasing as though he saw something he didn't like. He cupped her cheeks in his palms; an hour ago, him touching her face would have set her soul, and her body, on fire...now it did nothing. "You're really clammy."
A shiver shot down her spine and her knees went weak. She started to fall, but Lincoln grabbed her and held her up. "Fuck," he muttered and looked around as if for help, but there was no help to be had - they were all alone in the world. He turned back to her and held her gaze firmly with his. "I need you to be with me, okay?" he asked patiently. His voice echoed and his movements were blurred - she understood him, though, and she understood their situation.
She nodded slowly. "I-I-I will," she stammered, the first word inexplicably hard to spit out. Lincoln brushed his thumbs over her cheek bones, and the fleeing sensation broke through the haze in her mind.
"I-I'm okay," she said definitely.
Lincoln stared at her for a moment, then took her hand. "Alright. Come on." Threading his fingers through hers, he lead her down the center of the road, their boot heels clicking forlornly on the pavement and seeming to resound through the deserted countryside like the footfalls of a specter stalking an empty tomb. A warm wind slipped through the trees, and Lynn's body shivered violently. Lincoln wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "It's gonna be fine," he panted breathlessly, "I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."
Lynn started to cry. How many times had she said that to one of her sisters only to stand aside while the died? How many nights did she lie awake in agony because Lori or Leni or someone else was gone and it felt like a piece of her heart went with them...only to fuck up and get the next one killed?
"It's okay, Lynn," Lincoln replied, his voice strained. They didn't stop, though, they could never stop - they had to keep running, keep hiding like rats, or roaches when you turn the kitchen light on. Her tears turned to mad, braying laughter when she realized that they, she and Lincoln, weren't the living, they..,they were the dead...lurking in the shadows of the night, darting from one crypt to another. Gotta stay out of sight, gotta be quiet, don't let them know you're here...they'll come with pitchforks and wooden stakes. What kind of life is this? Always afraid, always hunted, subsisting just enough to make it to tomorrow and do it all over again.
Those things..they're the new men, and we're the new monsters.
Her feet tangled and she went to her knees, nearly dragging Lincoln with her; she laughed even harder. The pavement hurt even though she was dead.
"Goddamn it, Lynn," Lincoln hissed and dragged her back to a standing position. "Knock it off!"
Right, she had to get serious or she was going to kill Lincoln too.
Then again...how do you kill what isn't alive?
"We're dead," she said through numb lips, "we're dead and this is hell."
Every mistake you make is a chance to learn, Lynn's coach once told her, and like her coach advised her, she took that message to heart. When they stopped, they no longer split up, and before they went into a building, she and Lincoln cleared it like two cops on a primetime drama, him going left and her going right, meeting in the middle, a well oiled machine by the time they reached the Ohio-West Virginia state line, a natural border formed by the broad Ohio River.
It was late July and they had been on the road for nearly a month; travel at the end of the world was far more time consuming than Lynn imagined it would be. They stopped for three days during the final stages of Lori's infection and were forced to take refuge in a house east of Columbus during a thunderstorm that spawned tornadoes: For ten miles afterwards they followed a wide path of destruction, then came to a bridge that had been taken out by a flash flood. After losing Leni, Lynn was over cautious, and they swung wide around Columbus, adding days and hundreds of miles to their trip. It was worth it to avoid a seething nest of the dead, though.
She was also terrified to stop again lest something terrible happen, but on the morning of July 20, trucking down the middle of Route 35 with the river ahead and West Virginia a hilly green landmass on the horizon, she had no choice but to pull off the highway and into the town of Gallipolis, which rests in the shade of the massive Silver Memorial Bridge, a hamlet of dead end streets, decaying old houses, and cracked pavement. There was a Save-a-Lot across the street from an apartment building that looked more like a Soviet housing block she'd seen on TV, and, fighting down dread, she pulled into the parking lot. "Alright, everyone, we gotta be quick," she said into the rearview mirror.
While everyone stayed in the Bronco, she and Lincoln went in fast and low, their guns drawn. They found nothing, and brought the others in, save for Lisa, who still stayed in the car whenever she could.
Sometime later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, Lynn was shoving cans into the cart when the sharp honking of a horn shattered the silence, making her jump. Lincoln's brow furrowed, and before she could stop him, he was hurrying to the front of the store. She started after, her heart beginning to pound, then remembered that Luna was in the bathroom turned to Lucy. "Go get Luna," she ordered, and Lucy nodded and rushed away.
When she reached the front door, Lynn's heart burst: Zombies filled the parking lot, approaching at a shambling gait. They were fresher than usual, and faster too, less than a week dead. Lisa laid on the horn and threw a panicked glance out the window.
"Fuck," Lincoln muttered. He brought up the M-16 and raked fire across the advancing dead. Lynn lifted her rifle, but caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye and spun: Four ghouls rounded the corner of the building and rushed at Lincoln. She cried hs name, and he turned, pulling the trigger and spraying them; bullets struck a brick support column and tore chips free. Lynn sensed something behind her: More zombies coming from the other side.
Lincoln aimed and fired. Click-Click. "Shit!"
The ones coming from the front were almost at the Bronco, and more were flooding from both sides. Panicking, Lynn shoved past Lincoln and ripped the front door open. "Get in!"
Lincoln started to protest, but three zombies shambled out of the store and threw themselves at him - they weren't in there before; they must have found a back entrance. "Lincoln!"
Lincoln spun and smashed the rifle butt into one's head, but another grabbed him from behind. Lynn ripped the Desert Eagle from its holster and blew its head off. More were coming, many more, and Lincoln, only as brave as a boy of thirteen can be, pulled away from the grasp of a dead woman in sweatpants and dove into the back of the Bronco. Lynn slammed the door and threw it into drive as the frontal assault hit, a thousand dead hands slapping the windows and rocking the ancient vehicle on its tires. Lisa sobbed in terror and Lincoln drew her protectively to his side. She slammed on the gas, and the Bronco shot forward, zombies chasing and hanging onto the sides. "Pull a U-turn!" Lincoln yelled.
Ghouls filled the streets and the parking lot, appearing from every direction like dandelions on a yard. She tired to turn right and double back to pick up Lucy and Luna, but the dead were right there, pounding and trying to claw their way in.
It was too dangerous.
She hit the gas again and burst out onto the street, the tires squealing.
"Go back!" Lincoln roared.
"I can't!" she screamed and started to cry, the dam breaking and all of her fear and weakness sweeping through her.. "I can't! I can't! I can't!: She slammed her hands on the wheel. In the rearview mirror, the building was swarmed as if by a seething mass of ants. Certainly Luan and Lucy…
She saw them then, and her breath caught. They were in the front window, their faces twisted in horror, Luna pounding furiously against the glass and screaming silently. Lynn wasn't a lip reader, but what she was saying was clear enough: Come back! Don't leave us!
The vision blurred, but not before Lucy was dragged away, then Luna, her plam still slapping the window as blood spurted across it. Lynn sobbed all the way into West Virginia, and that night, twenty miles northwest as the crow flies, as she lay in her sleeping bag, she pressed the barrel of the Desert Eagle against her temple, resolved to scatter the horrible images across the floor in red. The only thing that stopped her was Lincoln...and Luan and Lisa, but mainly Lincoln.
He needed her, she decided.
Her feet dragged in the grass. Ahead was a white clapboard church with an arched doorway and stained glass windows but no steeple. Woods surrounded it on all sides and a sign stood in the middle of a gravel lot fronting the building. ST. SARAH'S CHURCH. A white twelve seat van sat under a tall wooden pole with a lamp at the top.
At the concrete steps, Lincoln helped her sit then knelt next to her, took her face in his hands, and turned her head to face him. His eyes were big and brown, and full of worry, the corners of his lips turned anxiously down. "Can you hear me?" he asked.
She nodded. Umhm. Her ears rang a little and everything was still kind of in slow-mo, but she could hear him just fine. Unlike Luan. Luan couldn't hear him because she was dead.
Her lips started to quiver and tears shimmered in her eyes. She stared plaintively at Lincoln, her hands in her lap and her face crinkling silently. His features softened and he took her in his arms, pressing her face to the crook of his neck and gently stroking her hair. She gave into her tears and let them overwhelm her. "I killed her," she sobbed, "I killed her, Linc."
"No, you didn't," Lincoln said softly.
"Yes I did," she moaned, her body shaking against his and her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. "I was supposed to be watching her." Her voice broke on the last two words. "But I wasn't…" here she hitched, "I wasn't…"
Lincoln shushed her and rocked her back and forth like a mother trying to soothe a fussy baby. She clutched his shirt in both hands, clinging desperately to him as though he were her only salvation...the only thing keeping her from being swept away. When it occurred to her that he was, she cried even harder.
He was all she had left in the world.
They were following I-79 northeast of Charleston when Lisa was bitten. It was one of those freak accidents that you might hear about in the news, or at least that's how Lynn thought of it. She certainly never imagined something so strange happening, but by that point she should have known - though she never did.
It was mid afternoon and they were stopped west of Newton, the northbound lane flanked by open grass and the southbound by a rugged rock face topped by dense pine trees. They were all sore, road weary, and wanted to stretch their legs, and while they were at it, Lynn decided to make lunch - Campbell's chicken noodle soup over an open fire. Lynn gathered sticks, Lincoln set them up, then Lynn held a pot over the crackling flames while Lincoln, Luan, and Lisa gathered around. With a weary sigh, Lisa laid back in the grass, then shot up again with a pained yelp, her hand flying to her neck. Lynn furrowed her brows, then started when Lisa's fingertips came away bloody. The little girl turned, and her eyes widened: A face, covered in dirt, lay upon the ground as if chopped off and tossed aside. A low, rattling hiss issued from its mouth, and Lynn's blood ran cold. "Oh, my God," she drew darkly, and Lisa began to tremble.
No one knows how many murder victims are buried in shallow graves across the United States, but that doesn't matter, because all it took was one...one to graze its teeth across Lisa Loud's neck just hard enough to break her skin...one to kill her.
Lynn furiously scrubbed the wound with alcohol, her hands shaking and her breaths coming in quick gasps. She knew it wouldn't work, but she did it anyway; she dumped the entire bottle on it, then half of another. She was crying by the time she was done, and the tears standing in Lisa's eyes, her quivering bottom lip, only made her cry harder.
The little girl went through the entire five steps of grief in a matter of two days as they trekked east on Route 4, starting with denial and ending with acceptance. "I'm somewhat frightened," she said, sitting stiffly next to Luan in the back of the Bronco, "but I've come to terms with my inevitable passing."
Good for her, Lynn hadn't. It was her fault...just like all the others. She picked that particular place to stop...that particular spot to build the fire. Three feet to the west, and Lisa would be okay. Instead she was slowly rotting from the inside out because of her. Every night between Newton and Brandywine - four total - she laid awake staring into the darkness, hating herself with such rabid intensity that she wound up literally sick to her stomach.
She killed them.
She killed them all.
Ever the scientist, Lisa kept a log of her infection. The bite began to sting painfully within an hour, and the flesh around it became pink and tender. After a day, her joints started to ache as rigor mortis set in, and that night she began to run a fever. She suffered vivid nightmares, and as they followed US250 through the low, wooded foothills of the Monongahela State Forest, she became so cold that her teeth audibly chattered. At one point, she turned and lifted the back of her sweater, wincing in pain. "Luan...what do you see?" she asked.
Luan spared a hurried glance and looked away, her breathing ragged. "B-Bruises," she said.
Sighing, Lisa lowered her sweater and sat back against the seat. "My blood's starting to pool."
Two days later, she died in a roadside restaurant and Lynn put her down like she asked - she was the only Loud eternally at rest; Lynn regretted not being able to give the same peace to the others, and if she could do it over again, she would free them all, even if it killed her every time. If she could do it over again, she'd have gone into that pharmacy instead of Lori, and she would have taken the bite her oldest sister took. Everyone would be better off if it was her who died.
Darkness, the only light the faint flicker of candles arranged around them in a semicircle. Lynn watched shadows dance across the stained glass window with a vacant expression. The shock had worn off, and now she felt only grief - deep, gnawing, gnashing grief. She blinked back fresh tears and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
You left her to die...you killed her just like you killed the others.
A shudder wracked her body, and Lincoln pulled her close, her butt nestling in his crotch and his hand grazing her breast.
They were in the middle of the aisle on a bed made of blankets Lincoln found in a hall closet, Lincoln's arm wrapped protectively around her. Gleaming oaken pews flanked them on either side, and at the head of the room, Christ watched from his cross, head bowed and arms spread as if to embrace the world. Maybe it was her imagination, but Lynn could feel him judging her, hating her for what she did to her sisters, her entire family whidded away until she had nothing but Lincoln.
Just them.
And one day, she'd kill him too.
She started to cry again, and Lincoln held her tighter. "Shhhh," he said, and nothing more, because what else could he say?
They were all alone in the world now, and suddenly Lynn's entire life revolved completely and totally around him, and his around her. She'd lost so much - everything - but she couldn't lose him; he was it, the last of her loved ones, and she would hang onto him with all her might.
Fighting back tears, she turned in his arm and faced him, her hand going to his cheek. Without hesitation, he did the same, his thumb brushing her cheek and his eyes locking with hers; in them she saw the same pain, fear, and loss she felt herself, the same need...the need for his sister's closeness, her presence, to know that she was there for him, that no matter how alone in this big, dead world they were, they would always have each other. "I love you, Lincoln," she said with ernest severity.
His thumb caressed her skin, ghosting fondly over her freckles. "I love you too," he said.
They gazed longingly into each other's souls, giving themselves wholly to the other, then she leaned into him; his lips met hers half way, and their tongues flicked tentatively, testing the waters, then the kiss deepened, their bodies pressing flush against one another and their hands threading through the other's hair. She explored every crease and crevice of his mouth, tasted his lips and his saliva, flopped her tongue clumsily against his tongue, her passion rising until it burst against her chest. Lincoln laid her gently on her back and shifted onto her, his hands cupping her cheeks and the kiss never breaking. She clutched his shirt desperately and wrapped her legs around his waist as if to never let him go; his heart pounded against hers, and the kiss of his fingertips as they crept under her shirt and to her quaking breast made her gasp into his mouth.
Fire consumed her body and her hips rocked mindlessly against his growing bulge, her breath catching at the sensation of it prodding her through their clothes. Lincoln reached down to unbutton her jeans, and she fumbled with both hands at his belt buckle. When he got them undone, she arched her back, and he slid them down, his lips kissing her cheek, her jawline, the side of her neck, each touch sending jagged tendrils of pleasure into her loins. She threw her head back and hummed, her nails raking his back and her hips wiggling; when the jeans were around her knees, she yanked one leg out, then pushed them down with her heel. Lincoln's fingers skipped down her flanks and hooked into the waistband of her panties, dragging them along her thighs. His eyes met hers, and aching love and affection overwhelmed her; she grabbed his face, brought his lips to hers, and swirled her tongue around his.
Somehow they both lost their underwear, and his tip jabbed between her sticky folds, seeking ingress to her body. She spread her legs wide, and he found her opening, a sacred place she had shared with no one before. He pulled away from her lips and stared down into her eyes as he slid forward; her lips wrapped around his head, then it penetrated her, sinking in and spreading her walls apart. Stinging pain filled her pelvis and she winced.
"Are you okay?" he panted dazedly.
She nodded quickly. "Umhm." It hurt, but at the same time it felt so good, so right and natural - she needed him deeper, filling her, their bodies one, as close in flesh and spirit as two people could be. She dug her heels into the floor and held onto his shirt; he thrusted and sheathed himself in her boiling core, taking her virginity and poking the entrance to her womb. She threw her head back and jerked her hips against his, taking him even deeper. Their cried out in unison, then began to move in time, her up, him down. Her crcled his hand around her wrist, pinning it to the floor, then grazed her open palm and weaved their fingers together; she wrapped her legs around his hips, her ankles crossing in the small of his back.
In that moment, she felt full, complete, unalone - nothing else in the world mattered except for her brother...nothing existed outside of the love they were making, the intimacy they were sharing, the life they were celebrating. Her climax gathered quickly in her depths and her body shook as it approached, like the earth before a volcanic eruption. Lincoln's eyes narrowed and he bowed his head. "I'm cumming," he grated.
"Give it to me," she panted. She needed his essence inside of her, the deepest part of him in the deepest part of her, the blood pact concluding their ritual of love and devotion. He gritted his teeth and moaned...then suddenly grew against her insides. Her orgasm hit, and her muscles clamped around him, her walls squeezing and stroking his tightening shaft.
Liquid heat shot into her, and her mind rolled away, her hips pumping and a long, breathy sigh falling from her lips. Lincoln thrusted again and released more: She could feel it pooling in her center like lead, so hot it burned, and that feeling was the most beautiful she had ever known.
When the storm passed, Lincoln rolled off and took her in his arms once more, his lips touching her bare shoulder. I just had sex with my brother, she thought. She didn't know whether to be elated or horrified.
The second time was slower, less urgent; she straddled him and took him deep into her body, loving him as totally as one person can love another. She kissed him as she rocked against him, her hand on his face and his on her hips, then her breasts as her speed increased, building toward the end. When it came, she rested her forehead against his, their noses and lips touching and their breaths mingling. She stared into his narrowing eyes as he filled her, then closed her lids and came unraveled, her nerve endings crackling and her body tingling with a pleasure so intense it might as well have been pain.
After, they held each other close, panting, trembling, their hearts pounding and their eyes tangled as firmly as their bodies. This time she knew what to feel. "I love you, Lincoln," she mumbled tiredly.
"I love you too, Lynn," he replied.
"Please don't leave me." A tight band of anxiety squeezed her chest at the prospect, and shameful tears welled at the corners of her eyes. "I need you."
He smiled faintly and kissed the tip of her nose. "I won't," he said. "I promise."
Safe and reassured in her brother's arms, wrapped in warm, fuzzy peace like a woolen blanket on a cold night, Lynn allowed herself to sleep, and for the first time in over two months, she did not dream.
Lincoln, on the other hand, laid away for a long time, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead, and staring darkly into the shadows.