Zombies 2: A Love Story Ch. 01
Author's Note: Many thanks to you readers for making ZOMBIES - A LOVE STORY series a big success. After re-reading the last chapter a couple of times I see how it can logically lead not to just an epilogue but a new series, and this is the start. Hang on and I hope you enjoy this one as much as the first. I don't think it will last but a few chapters, but then again who knows.
Please continue to vote, comment, and give me feedback as this helps the story to take direction at times. I never write a story with the whole thing pre-planned. I write a chapter at a time and see where the characters take me. I refer to this as flying (or writing) by the seat of my pants and it seems to have worked pretty good so far.
*
Ace entered Arizona alone and on, of all things, a motorcycle. Arguments and disagreements between the small squad resulted in a fragmentation and it broke apart. Everyone went their own separate ways against Ace's best efforts to keep the small squad together. There was strength in numbers, he knew. Apart they were much more vulnerable.
The large bike was pulling a trailer behind which was packed with food, explosives, ammunition, and water. He wasn't optimistic about his future in this new world all alone. In his mind he promised himself to take a few of the virus-infected zombies out before they killed him.
And he wouldn't have long to wait.
He stopped at a rest stop well away from the restrooms just east of Winslow. Ace ate another Meals Ready to Eat -- known to military members as MRE's -- took note of the diminishing number of remaining thick plastic-wrapped containers, washed it down with water, and hoped like hell he could find gas in the next town. More food and water would be a bonus too.
He'd never been this far west before and found Arizona to be a flat, desolate place. At least this part of it anyway. He thought they called it the high desert or something along those lines, and the term certainly fit. It was mid-morning so it wasn't hot yet, but he knew that in a few hours the heat would be palpable as the rays of the sun beat down. Which was why he was hoping he'd make it to the cooler temperatures and the mountains of Flagstaff soon.
What day is it, I wonder? he asked himself. Hell, for that matter what month is it? Is it spring or has summer come yet? Not that knowing would have made any difference.
Not risking using the facilities he pissed beside the bench he sat at. As he held his cock in his hand he thought back to Tara and how much he missed her and couldn't help but to stroke himself. The memories started getting him hard so he thought of something else. Of the bloodsuckers, the zombies, anything to tame his excitement.
"Oh what the hell," he finally decided as his eager cock and balls took priority and he gave in.
Ace closed his eyes as he thought back to the rooftop and the first time he checked out Tara. In addition to having a cute face with brown eyes and a slightly upturned nose, her body was sweet. She was dressed in a thin, tight tank top that formed to the shape of her compelling breasts, the large nipples thrusting outward against the fabric. And a pair of red short-shorts that revealed her long, shapely tanned legs.
She kissed his cheek in thanks for rescuing her, but in his mind she instead eyed his crotch and kissed him someplace else. As she gently bit down on the bulge that was his growing erection her soft fingertips worked the zipper down and then tugged the buttons of the army fatigues open. Then her hand reached inside and guided his cock out into the open. It throbbed between her fingers as his excitement quickly increased.
"This is my way of saying thanks," she offered in explanation as she took the hardening shaft between her lips and deeply inside of her warm, succulent mouth.
Ace could immediately tell that Tara wasn't new to pleasing a man orally as her lips rapidly, then slowly, then rapidly again traveled up and down his stiffening organ. Within a few moments it completely filled out.
While she went down on him he imagined his hands lifting up the bottom of her shirt and then cupping her perky boobs. The nipples grew taut from the intimate attention, which he captured between thumbs and index fingers. Ace fantasized of pinching, twisting, and squeezing on the large pink tips.
"Your mouth feels great," Ace moaned to nobody as his hips began pumping up and down.
Between the heat of the sun and the erotic activity sweat formed on his brow, which he ignored for the moment. His cock was fully erect as his hand quickly jerked back and forth, mimicking what his mind was imagining.
His hands moved around the back of her head and his fingers interlaced as he fucked her sweet mouth. He thought of how wonderful her lips and mouth would feel as his cock worked in all the way to the back of her throat, then almost all the way out until only the smooth, swollen tip remained inside.
Ace couldn't recall the last time he'd been with a woman and so his balls were tingling in a minute or two. Just thinking of one, and especially of one as sexy as Tara, easily aroused his manly excitement.
Then her mouth backed away and she stood up, wiggling her hips as she lowered her short-shorts and the panties underneath in one motion. Tara straddled his lap and lowered, guiding his saliva-soaked cock into her tight opening before her body descended and slid his organ fully into her moist, hot sex.
He imagined his hands moving back to her boobs, cupping and squeezing on them as their bodies joined together in an act of intimacy that was so very special. As he twisted on the large, swollen nipples he imagined giving her cunt a great ride. She worked as feverishly as he did as they fucked one another.
He didn't last much longer. As the intense pleasure of a climax gripped him Ace went rigid, then jerked and shuddered as his cock began ejaculating streams of cum that arced upward before splattering onto the sandy ground. He kept pumping his cock fast and hard for as long as the moment lasted, then leaned back with a sigh of relief.
A loud noise roused him from the moment. He looked around and saw, on the other end of the rest stop, a zombie overturning garbage containers and looking for something. Maybe it was hungry, who knew. Zack closed up his pants, took three steps to where the bike was, and retrieved his assault rifle from a leather holster he'd attached to the right side of the motorcycle where it would always be close by.
"I'm always up for a little target practice," he said to himself as he walked around to the other side of the table.
From this position he could use the table for support. He took his time aiming with his elbows on the concrete surface and the butt tucked up against his right shoulder. The mounted scope made firing from this distance much easier. He doubted he could've hit it without one.
"Okay buddy, stand up and I'll put you out of your misery," he whispered.
Ace patiently waited until the zombie did precisely that. He squeezed off two rounds -- a double-tap -- and watched as they hit home. The first in the right side of the forehead and the second into his left cheek. Zack smiled to himself as he saw the reddish-white mist of blood and brain matter replacing the top of its skull.
Task complete. One less zombie in this miserable world in which we now live, he thought to himself with a snicker of amusement.
After returning the rifle to its holster he looked around to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind. Then he climbed back on the bike. After kicking it to a start the experienced soldier pressed on west. Two hand grenades and four thirty-round ammunition magazines hung from his webbed military belt. It was clear he was expecting trouble at any time.
As he drove west on I-40 over the weeds that had grown up through cracks of the dilapidated cross-country thoroughfare, he was mesmerized by the bluish mountains of Flagstaff looming in the distance. They were but a hint of what would be seen when he got closer. Ace could already imagine the strong pine scent he'd experience when he got there.
He was so taken by the beautiful sight that he failed to notice the approaching roadblock that was placed just as he would have entered the town of Winslow from the east. It was comprised of cement blocks, the same he'd encountered back at the compound.
"Oh shit!" he exclaimed to himself as he saw the barricade he was barreling towards at over seventy miles an hour.
He knew it wouldn't be enough to brake hard yet he did, and at the same time he laid the bike down on one side and skidded to a halt. As the sliding motorcycle approached the concrete barriers he extended his left leg and came to a rough stop behind one. He felt a stinging pain in his left leg and pulled it out from under the bike. The trailer had separated, flipped over several times and left the contents strewn over a large area.
As he inspected the leg, which had been partially protected from injury by the fatigue pants he wore, he made a mental damage assessment. The leg of the pants were shredded along the outside, as were several layers of skin on his thigh. It hurt and he'd be sore for a time, but there were no broken bones as best he could tell.
As he lay there, his back against the concrete block, he reached into a pocket and removed a half-full plastic water bottle. It was warm but it was wet and it helped to moisten his mouth and calm his racing heart.
"You got lucky this time," he said aloud. "I'd be dead if I'd hit that thing at full speed. I'd be zombie bait, that's for sure."
Ace laid there for a good half hour until the baking heat of the sun convinced him to get moving. That was when he saw them. A group of zombies, eight he counted, fighting over the rotting corpse of an animal, maybe a dog. They were about fifty yards down the same side of the highway and noticed him at about the same time as he spotted them, and they smelled food. Him.
A few seconds elapsed before anybody made a move. Maybe they were sizing him up as he viewed their disgusting appearances. Their faces were scratched and bloody, lips purple and swollen, eyes red and soulless, hair tousled. The clothes they were wearing, mainly jeans and t-shirts, were stained with dirt and blood -- theirs or someone else's he had no way of knowing.
Ace glanced down at the holstered rifle. He knew it would take a few moments to get it out and start taking the zombies out. But he hadn't reloaded for the past... week? Maybe longer. He was probably down to about ten rounds, maybe fifteen, before he'd have to reload. And that took critical seconds.
He knew the zombies ran fast, too fast for him to kill every last one. Unless he somehow got lucky, but how likely was that?
"I'm really screwed this time," he muttered under his breath.
Then he saw something he never had before. The zombies, all of them, looked up. It wasn't until Ace heard a loud "whoosh" sound that he turned and looked up in the same direction. It only took a second for him to see a drone and the tell-tale trails of two incoming missiles. As fast as he could he hit the deck behind the concrete blocks and hoped it was the zombies that were being fired on.
Two explosions, nearly simultaneous, shook the ground. Ace was thrown upward several inches and was quickly caught up in the thunderous concussion. When the event was over his ears were ringing and one was even bleeding.
When he carefully looked over the concrete block he saw the torn bodies of the dead zombies. Blood splattered the highway and body parts were scattered everywhere. Legs, arms, heads, torsos... it was a revolting sight yet it left him filled with relief.
"My lucky day," he said with a chuckle, but due to the ringing Ace couldn't hear his own spoken words.
The drone passed over and circled around. Ace got his feet under him and painfully stood up, waving in a gesture of thanks. The drone passed over him twice, likely looking at him with its camera, before flying away towards the southwest. As it left the wings rocked in a friendly gesture.
Afterwards Ace looked at the scattered contents of his trailer with frustration and disdain. "I won't be leaving anytime soon."
He vowed to be more careful in the future... however much more of it remained.
* * * * *
The trailer was scratched and dented, pretty much like Ace himself, but it had survived the accident. It took several hours to recover and repack the contents, and by the time he'd finished it was hot and he was sweating profusely.
He grabbed a bottle of water and rehydrated himself before he climbed back on the bike, carefully drove it around the roadblock and the bloody battle scene just beyond, and then got going again. It felt much cooler with the air passing over him at fifty miles an hour.
* * * * *
"Who is that?" Suzi, a red-headed drone pilot thirty-one years of age, asked as she leaned over her friend and younger blonde-haired colleague.
Carol, twenty-four years of age, smiled openly. "I don't know but he sure is handsome." She circled a second time around before guiding the drone towards home base. "He looks hurt. Must have crashed the bike into that barrier."
"He'll be okay," Suzi decided. "Maybe we'll get to meet him one day."
"Yeah, like that'll happen. Don't think so but I'd love it if it did. Maybe I'll look for him again tomorrow. You know, watch his back."
Suzi glanced over at Carol and rolled her eyes. "Somebody's in love."
The small regional airport built in the southern Arizona desert had originally been used by private aircraft and ultra-lights for years. In 2015 the U.S. government added two non-descript buildings and three hangars with the intent of monitoring the U.S.-Mexican border with six remotely piloted flying drones.
It sounded like a real opportunity to many men and women. A federal job with paid training, good pay and great benefits. Sure the location was rather remote, a small town in the desert, but it was better than some of the other careers being considered.
But once the deadly virus hit and wiped out much of the population the drones had taken on a new mission by the few survivors still capable of maintaining, arming and flying them. Zombie killing. Other survivors found their way to the airport and became part of a small but growing community, not unlike Survivor City, except on a much smaller scale.
And unlike Survivor City, they didn't advertise. It was no secret what had happened there, either. A small number had escaped before the final battle and word was spreading about the terrible attack that all but wiped it out. Few expected Survivor City to ever make a comeback.
* * * * *
Ace was beginning to wonder if he'd ever find any gas and was really growing concerned. But later that day he stumbled across an empty encampment where a group of survivors had been living until they were probably sickened by the second virus. It could have even been some of those who'd been bombed on the highway at the edge of town by the drone.
It was pretty well stocked and he took full advantage of the opportunity. What had once been a three-story brown brick office building had been converted into their living quarters. The first floor was for eating and entertainment, the second floor had been turned into bedrooms, and on the third floor he got lucky and found their stores.
There were twenty two sealed cases of MRE's, three stacks of bottled water that went from the floor to the ceiling, several shotguns with a dozen or more cases of ammunition, and medical supplies. Way more than he could carry, so he would have to choose carefully.
Before doing anything else Ace used the medical kit to try and patch up his leg. Any open wound was an invitation to infection, and the last thing he wanted was to get turned into a zombie. After removing the pants he cleaned and covered the two-foot long patch of scraped skin, calling on his basic medical skills all soldiers were taught.
It wasn't hard to find clothes. He'd packed extra in his trailer which he used to replace the torn one. After realizing that the desert heat had soaked his shirt he replaced it as well. The world was short of a lot of things but clothing wasn't one of them.
After stocking up on food and water he looked around, initially inside but then outside, for gas. He found it out back in three unmarked steel drums. It didn't take long to track down a red, plastic five-gallon container which he filled up. Ace hoped it was enough to get him to where he was going to, wherever that was.
After topping off the motorcycle he did the same to the gas container, taking as much with him as he could reasonably expect. Surviving, he was finding, was a roll of the dice. When space was limited a person had to make the right decisions as to what to take and what to leave behind.
Noticing it was starting to get late he figured the safest thing to do was to stay there. He could eat and hydrate that evening and the next morning without touching anything he'd already packed.
He was briefly reminded of the compound he'd stayed at and left weeks ago, or maybe it was months now. Time had a funny way of disorienting him without having any kind of a reference to it.
Ace checked out the first floor, started a generator outside, and looked through some DVD movies. As he relaxed on the couch with his assault rifle close by he watched two of them. He ended up drifting off to sleep just before the second one ended and woke up the next morning with the sun's orange rays lighting the room.
The generator, now silent, had long since run out of gas.
"Damn, I forgot to eat," he realized as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes while his empty stomach rumbled in complaint.
* * * * *
Carol arrived the next morning with a definitive spring of excitement in her step. She'd been looking forward to finding the biker again, assuming he was still traveling west on I-40. As wide open as that part of the country was he'd be easy to spot from a distance with the specialized sensors the drone was equipped with.
She was very familiar with the territory and survivor groups living there as well. It was difficult for her when she saw the new virus ravaging the encampments and turning the inhabitants into the dead-but-still-alive zombies that had to be destroyed to keep it from spreading any more than it already had. It was emotionally draining for her but she knew there was no other choice.
But the biker... if she could somehow lure him to her that might be a real score. Carol knew she had the physical attributes many men seek and thought she stood a pretty good chance of "catching" him should he somehow follow the drone to the airport.
"Life is full of surprises," she whispered to herself. "Isn't it about time for me to enjoy one?"
* * * * *
After eating a heavy meal and drinking as much water as he could, Ace slid a water bottle into his right pocket, grabbed his rifle, and started on his trip again. Before leaving he stood beside the trailer, opened a box of ammo, and loaded the banana-shaped magazine until it was full with thirty rounds again.
"I can't count on a drone saving my ass a second time," he muttered under his breath as he returned the magazine to the rifle.
Ace made sure he was squeezing as many supplies into the trailer as it could possibly hold before leaving. The day was young but the heat was already beginning to build. He hoped to make Flagstaff by mid-morning.
He was back on the highway headed west and kept his speed down to forty this time, just so he would have more time to react to anything blocking the road. He'd traveled about thirty miles and was halfway there when the drone passed over him from behind at an altitude of about three hundred feet.
The wings rocked again as if telling him it was going to check out what was coming up ahead, then it climbed. Ace liked the idea of someone watching his back but made him wonder why the remote pilot was taking such an interest in him, of all people. And where the airfield was.
It grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.
He was approaching Flagstaff when the drone returned and rocked its wings. He was sure the drone had cameras and so he smiled and offered a friendly wave of appreciation. When the wings rocked again he knew the remote pilot had seen the gesture.
About a half hour later he approached the junction of I-40 and I-17. His intention had been to keep traveling west on I-40 but the drone pilot had other ideas. He slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder as the drone repeatedly circled around him. Ace couldn't be sure if he was being diverted for his own safety or for some other reason. Then it flew east past him, turned around, and followed the I-17 southbound exit.
Without understanding why he followed the aircraft south. He wasn't sure what it's range was but he didn't expect it to be able to stay with him for very long. Once the drone confirmed he was traveling down the mountain on I-17 it continued south until it was out of sight.
"Who are you?" Ace asked aloud. "And where are you? Are you leading me to you, and if you are, why?"
* * * * *
"I think I did it," Carol cooed to Suzi the next time they saw one another. "I got him to turn south. He's heading right for us."
Suzi remained unimpressed. "What makes you think he wasn't planning on driving south anyway?"
"Woman's intuition."
"When he parks his bike here, that's when I'll be impressed," Suzi decided. "Tomorrow's your day off anyway, remember?"
Carol had been so caught up in this fantasy that she'd completely forgotten. "Can you switch days off with me please? Pretty-pretty please?" as she dropped to her knees and held her hands up in a pleading gesture.
Suzi didn't immediately respond, instead appearing as if she was deep in thought and giving it considerable consideration. She took a certain amount of pleasure in watching her younger and more attractive colleague squirm. Although Suzi wouldn't admit to it she felt a certain sense of jealousy Carol despite their friendship.
"You owe me a big one," Suzi finally announced, hoping like hell that the lone biker would remain but a brief fantasy.
* * * * *
It was late afternoon but still hot. Ace pulled over at what had once been a gas station maybe fifteen miles north of Phoenix. It was a big city and he knew there'd be survivors. Probably zombies too, maybe even bloodsuckers. He had no doubt that It would be dangerous getting through there.
If he was just on the bike that would be one thing, but the trailer he was pulling would no doubt be a magnet for those survivors who were desperate for anything they could get their hands on -- food, water, medical supplies -- and he had all three in limited quantities.
Grabbing his weapon he chambered a round, got off the motorcycle, and started looking around. His plan was to find a safe place to sleep for the night and get up before dawn. He was hoping that getting an early start might improve his chances of making it through the metro in one piece.
Even when the station was in its prime it probably wasn't much to look at. It just provided a convenient place to get gas before entering or just after leaving the hectic city.
It was even less impressive now. The two large plate-glass windows that flanked a steel-framed glass door had been smashed. Inside of the three-hundred square-foot single story structure anything of value had already been stolen, and the rest was scattered all over the faded, stained and dusty tile floor.
Ace looked down as he walked, the shards of glass shattering beneath the soles of his military desert boots. That was when he noticed what appeared to be drag marks that had dislodged the glass and much of the dust. It led to a door that opened outward. Perhaps a back room, or a restroom, he couldn't be sure.
A two-by-four had been placed across the center of the door and six nails, three on each side, had been pounded into the frame on either side. Whoever had done this had done it recently, and whatever was in the room behind the door it was clear that someone never wanted it to see the light of day again.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Ace whispered to himself as he shouldered his weapon and approached as quietly as possible.
Once he reached the barred door he placed his ear against the solid wood and listened. In addition to the fast beats of his own heart he also heard breathing. Something was inside, probably a zombie.
Maybe it tried to attack someone who wasn't armed and whoever it was managed to knock it unconscious before dragging it into the room and securing it there until the end of time. Or until an unsuspecting survivor like him showed up and stumbled over it.
Ace knew that whoever or whatever was inside hadn't been able to escape yet, so he felt confident that knocking wouldn't change that. So he tapped on the door.
"Hello?" Ace called out.
There was a rustling from within and as the doorknob turned left and right from the inside a male voice called back, "Help me! Please, help me! I have to get out of here!"
Relieved it wasn't a zombie yet confused as to how the man had gotten himself into this situation, Ace reassured him with, "I have to look around for something to pull those nails out with. Just relax, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
A quick search didn't turn up anything so he decided to use the nest best thing. It would be loud but he didn't think there'd be anyone around so close as to hear it.
"Face away from the door and stay to the left," he called out. "Tell me when you're-"
"Ready," the man said weakly.
Ace fired a quick burst into the right side of the two-by-four, which splintered as four slugs tore into it at point-blank range.
"Now get on the other side."
"Ready."
Another quick burst damaged it. Using his right foot a few swift kicks broke the two-by-four which fell to the floor. Ace opened the door and saw a man, probably in his mid to late fifties, looking up at him. His dark hair was mixed with white and he was skinny. If Ace had to guess he'd probably been there for three or four days and was badly dehydrated.
"Water," the stranger requested with a pleading and relieved look in his eyes.
The two men sat together on the sandy ground out front beside the bike. Ace shared his food and water with the man and patiently waited for him to recover enough to discover why he ended up where he had. If he was local then any intelligence he might be able to gather about the city up ahead could prove to be invaluable.
"You must have really pissed off some people for them to stick you in there and leave you to die, Rick," Ace commented.
"Said I was stealing food and water from the compound locker," Rick finally spoke up for the first time since his rescue after sharing his name with the young, muscular soldier and savior.
Ace had to ask. "Were you?"
Rick turned defensive. "Look at me, it's not like I'm carrying around fat like some of the others. A man has to survive."
"So why didn't they just shoot you?"
Rick shrugged his shoulders. "They all know me, like me, and nobody would volunteer. So this is what they did instead. Said at least I had a chance, they could all live with that."
Ace nodded. "But they didn't plan on me."
Rick nibbled at a granola bar. "No, guess not."
"I need to get through the city," Ace told him. "I'd like to do it with the least amount of problems. You know how I can do that?"
With a stick in his hand Rick drew a circle representing the city and began telling Ace everything he knew.