Zombie Playlist: A Rock Zombie Romance Page 7

  “Let’s go!” Quarterback called out, dragging his gaze away from me.

  My eyes never left Noah’s as she was yanked toward one of the vehicles and sat on a small seat on the back. She hadn’t been restrained, thank fuck for that. Her tear-stained cheeks turned my way. Even from this distance, I could see she was physically trembling. Pushing my shoulders back, I clenched my jaw and gave her a sure nod trying to convey that everything would be alright. Her body jerked with the forward momentum of the vehicle, and she held onto the handrails as we pulled away. Her vehicle took the lead, and I was unable to see her anymore, which scared me spitless. It wasn’t the mother fucking zombies I needed to fear in this new world, it was the perfectly healthy, warped bastards like Richard and Amanda, and Quarterback and his crew. My own fear was twisted deeply with a sharp anger that made me feel sick. I couldn’t see a way out of this predicament, and for the first time in my existence I was thankful for Noah's Down Syndrome that might keep her safe from being defiled by these assholes. Me, I was as good as screwed, and not in a good way. They were going to rape me, but there was no way in hell that they’d break me. My stubborn resolve wouldn’t allow it. Right now, I was living and breathing survival. With every second that ticked by, I tried to find a way out of this mess. Worst case scenario I would endure their unwelcome touch, then as soon as I could find a way free, I’d make these motherfuckers bleed.

  Track Eight: Green Day, Having A Blast

  CHAPTER 8

  “See, I fucking told ya,” declared the balding shit for brains with the donut around his mid-section.

  He was holding up the latest Rolling Stones magazine which the band had featured in. As Quarterback scrutinized the pictures before him, his gaze swung back to me, smirking. The journey into Quartzsite ended too quickly, and Noah and I had been herded into this piece of shit trailer on the outskirts of town. So much for my plan to keep safe by keeping to the fringes of town. There were no close neighbors, the land surrounding the home the typical arid dirt, cacti and dry shrubs of this area. The trailer itself was small, with gaping holes in nearly every wall, and a bright blue tarp covering part of the missing roof. The flooring was worn, filthy carpet, the furniture old and well used.

  “We’ll be okay, Boo,” I murmured as she was dragged down a short hallway and tossed unceremoniously into one of the rooms. The door had a bolt from the outside, which was all kinds of fucked up. Either these guys were accustomed to locking people up before the Red Rage outbreak, or they’d been quick to capitalize on the destruction of the world. I was just thankful Noah wouldn’t be witness to the degradation I knew was about to come.

  “We’re about to have us some prime, celebrity pussy boys.”

  That came from the balding bastard who was apparently a Rifts of Destruction fan. Perhaps when this was over, and I was free, I’d carve my autograph into his shiny fucking forehead. There was only three of the four men present, Archie had been groggy and bleeding when they’d dumped his ass on a crusty looking sofa in the living room. We were presently in the kitchen, my ass firmly planted on a chair, and my wrists still tied behind my back. Quarterback strolled towards me, his gaze caressing every inch of my body. Somehow, I managed to hide the shudder.

  “I can’t figure out where I want to start…with my dick in your mouth, ass, or pussy.”

  “You put that tiny prick in any hole, and I’m gonna cut it off,” I snapped, standing from the chair with my shoulders pressed back. Courage painted my exterior with boldness, while fear rotted my insides.

  “I do love me a smart mouth,” he continued as if I hadn’t just spoken. “And yours is all pretty, and plump, and red.” His leery gaze stayed on my mouth and for the first time in my life I regretted the fiery red lipstick I loved to wear. “But I think I’ll start with your pussy, and maybe shove it up your ass then finish between those lips.”

  His fingers played with the wiry hair on his jaw, and the men behind him snickered, also putting their two cents worth in on how they would exactly fuck me. No, this wasn’t fucking. Fucking could be hard, rough and fun, this was rape in its most disgusting and vile form. My heart was beating hard and fast, like one of Jez’s frantic solo beats we went silent for in each live performance. That drum beat would get the entire arena on their feet and screaming. I wanted to scream too until my throat was raw, and I wanted to fight. It would do me no good, but there was no way I was going to let these men rape me without a battle.

  Quarterback wrapped a meaty hand around my bicep and dragged me forward, and that’s when I went wild. I thrashed. I growled. I cursed. I bit. I fucking fought for my life. The men struggled to restrain me, but it was three against one, and my hands were still tied behind my back. They subdued me eventually, the heavy weight of Quarterbacks body pressed against my back as I was forced to bend over the breakfast bar. A hand on my head shoved my cheek flat against the sticky surface, and I growled out another curse. Someone wrenched at the button and zip that held my cutoff jeans in place, tugging them down my legs, panties and all. Unforgiving fingers probed me, and I screamed again, this time fear filling my lungs and bouncing off the walls of this hell hole. The terrifying sound of a belt buckle clinking as it was pulled free came from behind me, and my eyes clenched tight when a hard cock was pressed against my most intimate parts. I tried to shift away, to move that hard intrusion from my body, but it was impossible with baldy and his friend holding my shoulders down.

  “Keep struggling,” Quarterback growled in my ear, his body positioned behind me. “I love it when a woman fights, makes me hard as fuck, and I can go for hours under an unwilling, squirming body.”

  “Just waiting for the banjos to start playing you inbred fuck!” Even with rape imminent, I wasn’t going to let this break me, they wouldn’t break me. If I was unable to fight back with my body, I’d use my mouth.

  Quarterback snickered, then, he entered me, one forceful thrust into my dry channel that ripped another scream from my lips. Following that unwanted invasion, the strangest thing happened. A small pop, followed by shattering glass broke through the horrifying attack. Two thumps sounded, and Quarterback was quick to retreat, his body blessedly free from mine.

  “What the shit?” He stammered.

  Another pop and another thump, then silence. On shaking knees, unable to even reach down and pull my pants up, I stood upright. I found my captors, each of them lying on the ground in twisted forms of death, blood oozing from Quarterbacks head, the other men’s chests. Gunshot, my mind registered, and yet I felt disconnected from it all. Like a morbid spectator watching from somewhere far away. A shadow outside the dirty glass sliding door caught my attention, and I flinched as a man decked out in full military gear pushed the glass to one side. A rifle was held high in his hands, the stock pressed into his shoulder. Hard, pale, arctic blue eyes met mine and he cast a critical gaze over my body. It wasn’t seductive or invasive, as had been the leers of Quarterback and his men. It was clinical. Raising a finger to his mouth, he gave me the universal signal for quiet. Then he moved towards me, spun me around with one hand on my elbow and cut through the bindings at my wrists. Turning back to face my mysterious savior, I quickly pulled my shorts up. His finger rose to his lips again, and I managed a stuttered nod. When those fierce eyes dropped to my breasts, my arms inadvertently sprung up to cover them even though I was wearing a shirt. The dog tags that hung from my neck clinked together, and it was then I noticed his gaze was on the item hanging around my neck, not my boobs. Quickly dismissing my pilfered tags, he gave me another hand signal which told me to stay, then moved past me, stepping over the prone bodies beneath his feet, rifle raised and poised to shoot.

  My heart was still beating too fast, my hands shaking, but my brain seemed to kick into gear when I remembered Noah in the room down the hallway. A loud pop from the living room made me jump, and I knew the soldier had shot and killed Archie. There was not a single ounce of remorse in my heart, if anything, I was fucking glad. M
oving to step over the bodies beneath me, I paused as I looked down on baldie’s slack face. From my back pocket, I pulled out the pocket knife and lowered to my haunches at his side. Then I leaned forward and pressed the blade into his forehead, cutting the letters S S.

  “Would never leave a fan hanging,” I growled, standing to my full height.

  The soldier was standing in the doorway, his face empty of any emotion. Cautiously, I stepped around him, then raced down the hallway to the room Noah had been stuffed in. Sliding back the dead bolt, I threw the door open. At first, I couldn’t find her. The room was filthy, like the rest of the house, with a double bed in the middle, a dark brown wardrobe with doors hanging loose from their hinges, and clothes strewn everywhere.

  “Boo?” I whispered.

  That’s when I heard the sniffle from the other side of the bed, and I stormed right through the room and over the clothes and empty beer bottles. She was in a fetal position on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands clamped tightly over her ears.

  “Oh, baby girl,” I said, emotion forcing a tight knot into my throat. Collapsing to my knees, I pulled her into my lap.

  She didn’t resist, her flushed face covered in tears, and snot pressed against my chest, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel her in my arms.

  “I got you, Boo,” I whispered over and over again. I fought my own tears back. Survive now, cry later. Eventually, I pulled her away and cupped her cheeks.

  “Did they hurt you anywhere?”

  My gaze tried to dart everywhere at once in search of an injury.

  “I’m okay,” she eventually replied. “I heard you screaming,” she confessed as more tears slipped free.

  “I’m sorry, Boo. I’m okay.”

  It was then I noticed the soldier standing at the door, his rifle now slung over one shoulder. Noah freaked out when she saw him, trying to disappear through the wall at her back.

  “It’s okay, he helped us. He got rid of the bad men.”

  At that, she paused and took him in, her fear turned to a thoughtful look.

  “Did God send you?” she asked.

  A small smile cracked the soldier’s composure. He nodded in the direction of the hallway, and I assumed he wanted us to get moving. Could he not just open his mouth and ask? When we didn’t move, he brought one hand up and with two fingers, mimicked walking, and pointed down the hall.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I asked, utterly confused by his silence.

  His lips turned downwards and eyes narrowed. With one long hard look at us, he turned and left. Noah scrambled to her feet and walked swiftly towards the door, which had me crawling to my feet and following. I was sore between my thighs, but it could have been a thousand times worse. This slight ache I could deal with, the mental anguish I wasn’t sure about yet.

  “Boo!” I snapped, but she ignored me as she blindingly followed the silent soldier down the hallway. When she would have stepped into the open living area and found Archie’s dead body, I raced forward and grabbed her hand to stop her. I didn’t need to though, the body had been carefully covered, as had the bodies in the dining room.

  The soldier glanced back my way and only my stubborn pride stopped me from saying thank you. Noah followed him right out the front door, my fingers still linked with hers. Our backpacks were sitting neatly on the ground out front, Maybelle resting against the wall of the house, and my golf club lying harmlessly beside my pack. I helped Noah shoulder her heavy pack, then looped Maybelle back through the bungy cord before shouldering my own bag. With shaking hands, I lit a cigarette and drew in a deep breath under the soldiers’ watchful eye.

  He kept looking between me and Noah, looking us over, again almost clinical. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a little note book and pen, then scribbled something down. Taking a step forward, though not too close, he held the small sheet of paper up.

  Are you both okay?

  Nodding, I murmured, “we’re fine.”

  “Are you deaf?” Noah asked, brash and bold as usual.

  Shaking his head, the soldier pointed at his mouth and shook his head. Mute? Selectively? Or something else? Those pale blue eyes moved to me before the pen went back to his notepad. Scratching something else down quick and efficient, he held up the paper before me.

  I’m a medic, so if either of you are hurting or feeling sick, let me know. I can help.

  With a nod, I let him know I understood. Then we all stood there in awkward silence. Taking in my surroundings, the dry, dusty yard beyond was filled with gutted cars and scrap metal. Walking towards the off-road vehicles the dead bastards inside had been on, I noticed the empty ignitions.

  “Maybe we can find the keys.”

  The soldier unwound a cap off a tank and peeked inside, then pointed and shook his head. The gas tanks were almost empty. Damn. Looking around, I noticed the metallic gleam of metal from beside a shed only a few yards away. Squinting through the dying light of day, I made out the familiar chrome beast with airbrushed skull and winged handle bars.

  “No fucking way,” I murmured. My surprised gaze shot back to the soldier who was reaching for one of the many pockets that adorned his long military style pants. Pulling out a folded piece of paper, he handed it to Noah.

  Moving to glance over her shoulder, I blew my smoke out the corner of my mouth, away from her while reading the note in Noah’s familiar scrawl.

  To the owners of this house,

  I’ m sorry we broke into your house and ate your food, but we were hungry and had none left because someone stole our car and stuff. I’m very grateful you had baked beans, they are my favorite right after Ramon noodles. Me and my sister are on our way to my Nan and Pops. My sister says it will be safe there. If you ever come by that way we can pay you back for the food. Thank you so much and I pray for your safe travels.

  Noah

  184 Brinks Road, Elmendorf

  “You gave out Nan and Pops address to a complete stranger?” I screamed. I couldn’t believe she had done that! I should have read the fucking note. Noah didn’t look the slightest bit remorseful.

  “Lucky I did because he saved us. You were screaming, Shy!” she snapped, her eyes brimming with tears.

  I was furious she had potentially put us in more danger, but her tears were my undoing. Tossing my cigarette to the ground, I stamped it out with my boot before wrapping my arms around her neck and hugging her close.

  “S’okay Boo, I’m not mad, just…don’t do it again, kay’?”

  Noah nodded, her head tucked into my shoulder. Pulling away, I wiped her tears and cast our new friend a sideways glance. I wondered if he was pissed at us for breaking into his home. Shit, maybe he was pissed off that I had not only stolen his dog tags but was wearing them. Then there was the knife in my pocket and the other crap stuffed away in my pack. Deciding we had bigger things to worry about right now, I pushed my shoulders back and stuffed my willful pride down.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. I wasn’t humble, like Noah. Saying thank you didn’t come easy for me. But if this soldier hadn’t come along when he did…I shivered as thoughts of where I would be right now slipped through my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pushed away those thoughts that were a threat to my sanity. Holding up his notepad, I read his scrawl.

  Lawson

  He pointed to himself. Lawson wasn’t the Blythe bad-boy I had assumed he was. He was the man on the far right of the picture, the one with the kind soulful eyes and humble smile, the good boy. He was a soldier, a medic, who liked to ride Harleys in his spare time and had a military medal stuffed away in a drawer, or more precisely, my backpack. And he was mute. Even as he stood before us with a blank look on his face, eyes hard and body tense, I knew right away he was a decent person. I was a good judge of character, my instincts sharp and usually on point. I just tried too hard to find good where it didn’t exist. For example, I knew Cullen was a cheating piece of crap, and I knew Sylvie was a m
oney hungry bitch, and yet I looked past those faults and tried to find some good inside their screwed-up shit.

  “Shiloh, and this is my sister, Noah.”

  In typical Noah style, she walked right up to the man and wrapped her arms around his stomach. It took a moment for Lawson to respond, but when he did it was without the usual reluctance or awkwardness a stranger might reply with to Noah’s easy affection. He held her tight and smiled before patting her shoulder as she stepped away.

  “God did send you,” Noah said with a smug smile.

  “No, your fucking letter sent him,” I said with a roll of my eye.

  “Shy!” Noah snapped.

  “Sorry, Boo, you know me.”

  Noah walked the short distance to me and hugged me again.

  “Yeah, Shy, I know you.”

  Track Nine: Tupac, Baby Don’t Cry

  CHAPTER 9

  The heat from the day hadn’t disappeared, instead the dry, roasting temperature had continued to hang in the air long after the sun had sank beyond the horizon. The moon now hung listlessly in the sky. My hair was pulled in a high messy bun, trying to give my neck some reprieve from the oppressive heat. We’d managed to fill some bottles with the residual water left in the pipes of the house we were squatting in. There was enough for the bottles, but definitely not enough to wash the filth from my body. Most of the grime I was feeling came from the unwanted touch and intrusion of Quarterback and his friends, and that wasn’t something that could be washed clean with a shower anyway. My greasy hair and the dirt under my fingernails, now that’s something I would dearly love to fix. The never-ending supply of natural water was just another reason why I couldn’t wait to get to Nan and Pop’s. At least I’d taken some solace in being able to put on clean underwear and a clean shirt. My favorite Janis Joplin tank top helped me feel a little better, and having Noah pressed up against my side was as close to perfect as I’d get in this broken world.