Afterglow: An Apocalypse Romance (12 page)

“Touch yourself,” he demanded in a harsh whisper.

When her right hand moved lower to touch her clit, his cock throbbed even harder and his balls tightened. He needed to come. He was going to come. It would feel so good, but he would wait for Nina. Her hand moved quickly over her bud; he could feel her body writhe as she touched herself in time to his thrusts. Her pussy was so wet, so hot, tightening up around his cock as she came closer to orgasm.

“Nina,” he muttered, “you feel so fucking good right now.”

She responded with a gasp, then a whisper: “I’m going to come, Creed. I’m going to come now.” Her pussy clenched around him, then released and spasmed, milking him, until he felt the pressure building, his cock thickening and tensing in the seconds before he exploded inside her, shooting hard and fast once, then twice, then a third time.

He couldn’t speak. His body was spent, satiated, and he barely had the energy to reach into the pocket of his leather jacket that they were using as a pillow and pulling out a clean bandanna. “Here,” he said, handing it to Nina.

“What’s this for?” Her voice was small, filled with sleepiness and contentment.

“To clean up. Because we’re not getting out of this sleeping bag till morning. We’re warm now and we’ll stay right here.”

“Oh,” she said. “OK.” Her tone was unusually agreeable, and a surge of masculine pride shot through Creed. He liked that she was tough, that she could take care of herself and kick some ass. But he liked seeing her soft like this too. He liked taking care of her.

And as soon as he realized that, he knew he was screwed. He didn’t need someone to take care of. He didn’t
want
someone to take care of. But holding her that night, snuggled in the sleeping bag on the forest floor, he knew the terrifying truth: it was too late. He was too far gone.

* * *

He awoke before the noise, like his body instinctively knew something was about to happen. For a moment Creed was disoriented from sleeping so hard. That was unusual for him. Years in the Marines had taught him to always sleep with one eye open, ready at all times to jump into action. Next to him Nina sighed in sleep and rolled toward him to snuggle closer, but Creed was already on edge. Something wasn’t right, though he wasn’t sure yet what it was. A quick scan of the area gave nothing away. It was daybreak, the woods around them still.

“Nina,” he whispered.

“Creed?” Her voice was groggy from sleep.

“Shh.” He put a finger to his mouth.

“What’s going on?” Her eyes were alert as she, too, looked around.

He shook his head to let her know he wasn’t sure. His gut was telling him something, and he always listened. Nina’s revolver and his pistol were next to them, half buried in dew-coated leaves, and he silently handed Nina her gun as he grasped his. Gesturing for her to stay put, he slunk his way out of the sleeping bag, staying low and as quiet as possible. He barely registered that the air was freezing cold, barely saw the frost on the small shrubs near his feet. His only focus was the danger that he knew was imminent.

As still as possible he crouched, like a statue, waiting for a sign, some small movement somewhere to let him know what was coming. Out of the corner of his eye he finally saw something. A figure clumsily darting back behind a tree.

Gotcha
, he thought, but stayed low. He knew too much to assume there was only one person. Experience had taught him that assumptions could be deadly.

The snap of a twig in another direction.
Fuck
. He was right in thinking there were more than one. But this was one time he didn’t want to be right. When he saw another person dart behind a tree, when he knew there were at least three of them out there, panic swelled inside him and he fought it down. He had to keep a level head.

But doing so was a struggle as men began to show themselves, all of them with guns. Creed’s heart sank, and the only thing he could think about was Nina. He couldn’t let these assholes get their hands on her. Because he’d seen enough shit to know that killing her wasn’t the first or most vile thing they’d do.

“Nina,” he hissed. “Run toward the road when I say
go
.”

He knew she’d have questions, but there was no time to explain, no time to plan. Without thinking, he saw the biggest space between two of the men and he bolted, knowing they’d follow him, hoping their bullets would miss until he could get far enough away to hide, then come back for Nina. They should have had a plan, should have decided on a meet-up location in case they got separated, and he was a fool for not thinking of that. But it was too late now.

Creed crashed through the trees, his legs pumping harder than they’d ever moved before. Shots rang out but nothing connected. Sheer luck, yes. But as he’d anticipated, these men weren’t experts in riflery, and shooting well while running, actually hitting a moving target while moving yourself, was harder than most people thought.

“Get him!” someone yelled behind him, and he veered quickly to the right, hoping to slow them down or confuse them by changing course. The woods were alive with sound: men grunting, slamming through brush and over leaves, shots, every once in a while, tearing through the trees.

“The bitch,” Creed heard. “Tallon. Jimmy. Go back for her.”

Nina
. Every bit of him wanted to turn back around and help her. But he knew if he did that he’d be killed, and the only chance Nina had was for him to stay alive right now.

He was pulling ahead of the men, the distance between him and them getting greater. He could hear them gasping for breath, then falling behind, the noises of them running fading as he pushed ahead, farther into the forest.

He knew he’d lose them eventually, or they’d give up soon. He was in good shape, even after his illness, strong and trained to keep going no matter how badly his lungs burned, how much his muscles screamed to stop. Creed knew how to keep fucking going. And there was no way he was going to stop now.

More of the men had fallen back. Creed kept on, darting through the trees. There was only one guy following him now, maybe two, the strongest of the bunch he guessed. This time when he heard a gunshot ring out, he cursed as he felt a sharp pain in his right arm. He’d been hit. There was no time to stop to look, though he reasoned it was a graze rather than a direct hit; otherwise he wouldn’t still be running. Adrenaline could do a lot, but it had its limits.

When Creed saw a big moss-covered boulder, he ducked behind it. His lungs were on fire and he fought against gasping for air, fought to keep his breathing quiet and even. His body felt like it was on fire, every muscle screaming, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. Still, his hands were steady as he raised his gun, peering out from behind the rock as he waited for the men to come into view.

It was only a few seconds before he saw them, both slowing, then stopping as they looked around and listened to figure out Creed’s location. They were both in jeans, one in a grimy Green Bay sweatshirt, the other in a Nike windbreaker, both with unshaven faces and wild eyes. Confusion dominated their expressions, then victory as they saw the boulder and realized that’s where he was hiding. He allowed them that victory for a few seconds, knowing it would be the last thing those fuckers felt.

Their death was quick. Creed was a good shot, and before the second guy even realized the first was dead, he was shot too, a perfect bullet to the chest.

A loud whistle shrilled through the woods, and in the distance Creed heard someone shout, “Head back, boys!” They were leaving. Probably with Nina. He didn’t even know if she was alive or not, and the thought of her as their captive or worse, of her dead, caused a pain to rip through his stomach, hard and fast and practically crippling.

How had he let this happen? He’d been so careful at that farmhouse, boarding up the doors and windows before they went to sleep at night, making sure nobody could get to them without enough time to prepare. And then sleeping out in the open, where anyone could—and had—get to them? He was an idiot, and once again he’d lost someone he cared about.

How much time did he have before they left? he wondered. They’d wait for these two morons he’d shot, and when they didn’t return, would they send someone to look for them? Maybe he could take a circuitous route back to where he and Nina had been discovered, and one by one shoot every single motherfucker there.

After a few seconds of hearing no movement near him, he stealthily started back the way he’d come. He stopped every few seconds to listen, then continued. He wasn’t sure how far he’d run with the guys in pursuit, but he knew that with every step he was closer to Nina, closer to saving her.

Another whistle rang around him, then a shout of, “Moving out!” In the distance, a motor started and tires screeched as the vehicle took off, heading the same way Creed and Nina had been traveling, away from the old couple’s house and toward the gang-ridden town.

They were gone. Nina was gone. And the fact that they’d left two of their own men behind, not even bothering to check on them, confirmed what Creed already knew. They were animals. He had to find them, and he had to kill them all.

-Nina-

It was cold in the back of the pickup truck, but that was the least of Nina’s worries. Her feet and hands were bound, and she was lying on her side as the vehicle bounced along, five men holding guns and leering. Their clothes were worn and stained, their hair and beards were overgrown, and at least one of them reeked of stale alcohol. Yet their hands and faces were surprisingly clean. Or relatively clean, considering the circumstances.

“This one’s prettier than the last one.” One of the men spoke, reaching out his hand to touch her hair.

Nina pulled back, repulsed, terrified.

Another man shoved him aside. “Don’t touch her, Jay. You know what the sheriff said.”

“Fuck Landon.” Jay spit sideways, a large glob of mucus landing in the truck bed just a few feet from where he was sitting. But he didn’t reach out a second time.

“You say that now, but you was pissing yourself last night when he messed up your brother.”

The man named Jay nodded, then cursed and spat again. “He didn’t need to kill him.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jay, or he’s going to shoot your ass too.”

“Screw him,” muttered Jay, but Nina could see fear in his eyes.

She tried to fight down her own fear, because rationally she knew it wouldn’t get her anywhere. What she needed to do was remain calm—although how the hell was she supposed to do that when she’d been kidnapped by a group of killers? Still, she tried to take deep breaths and focus.

The truck rattled and bounced along for a few more minutes, then slowed and stopped. She heard and felt it shift into park then go still.

“What have you got for me, boys?” The voice was loud and commanding, and immediately Nina knew it was Landon, the man who’d been discussed on the ride in the back of the truck.

“Redhead, Sheriff,” said Jay proudly, as though he were somehow solely responsible for Nina being here
and
having red hair. Through her terror, Nina felt more disgust creep in.

“Get off,” the commanding voice ordered, and the truck bed shook as they exited. It shook again as someone else scrambled up. A shadow crossed over Nina, and when she looked up, she was surprised by what she saw.

This man was not only clean and shaved but was dressed, inexplicably, in a suit, as though he was going to a business meeting. While his voice had sounded commanding, he was baby-faced and almost cute, except for his eyes. Those were cold, and the gaze he gave her, calculating and assessing, was so at odds with the round, jovial cheeks that she shuddered in new terror.

“Hello,” he said to Nina. “Thank you so much for joining us. When I saw the truck coming, I could barely contain my excitement.”

When she said nothing, he continued. “Not feeling very talkative right now. I understand. The circumstances of our meeting are...” he gestured with a flourish, “unusual.”

“Please,” Nina said finally, her voice sounding weaker than she wanted it to. “Please let me go.”

He smiled at her, and his eyebrows shot up into his smooth, creamy forehead. “Well, now, I’m sorry. That’s not part of the plan.” His shook his head and clucked, his expression dripping with false sympathy.

Nina was about to ask what the plan was, but a sound interrupted her, the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle, the revving of its engine getting closer and closer. For a split second her heart soared. Creed! He was here to save her! He’d escaped the men chasing him and come for her.

But when Landon smiled and waved at the approaching motorcycle, her heart sank.

Landon turned to her. “Now I’m going to untie your feet so you can walk. Otherwise I’d have to carry you, and I am certainly not going to risk wrinkling my suit. These days, as you can imagine, it’s harder than ever to get something pressed correctly. But if you run, I’ll shoot you. You understand that, don’t you?” His tone was calm, almost whimsical, and that made the words he was saying all the more insidious. “I’m a good shot, Red.  Your predecessor was especially, let’s say, bent on making her own way in our dark new world.  Let’s not have you end up with the same fate, hmmm?”

When he bent over to untie the rope binding her feet, she inhaled the spicy smell of cologne. Cologne! Who wore cologne during an apocalypse?

Landon pulled her to her feet and pointed at the motorcycle. Creed’s motorcycle. One of Landon’s men was riding it, wearing Creed’s leather jacket. If they had Creed’s bike and jacket, did that mean he was dead? She had no idea what had happened to him in the woods, but her wish was that he’d escaped. Now doubt fought with the hope she’d had, threatening to take over.

“Looks like one of my boys brought back some souvenirs,” said Landon. “Those belonged to your friend, didn’t they? What was he? Your boyfriend?”

Nina shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, holding back the urge to vomit.

Landon shrugged, then shouted out to the man in Creed’s jacket, “What happened to the owner of my new motorcycle and jacket?”

“Pa-pow!” came the glib response.

Nina’s body went cold, like all her blood had been replaced with ice water. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Creed could not be dead. Nausea clenched her stomach, and her head swirled, the world around her growing hazy. Landon pulled on her arm, gently at first and then harshly, squeezing hard, and she moved along with him.

They headed into a movie theater, where the lobby smelled of fake butter under the new, acrid stench of urine.

“Welcome to my home,” said Landon as they entered. “My men live downstairs. They aren’t as, how shall I put it, clean as I am. I tried to instill in them the importance of proper hygiene to stay healthy. These days you can never be too careful. But, alas. They’ve lost their will power now that nobody contagious exists around here any longer. So, I must tell you, it smells rather ripe down there.” He continued to lead Nina through the dark theater until they reached an unlabeled door. “This is where I stay.”

It was pitch black in the windowless room, but Landon said, in a fake casual tone, “Oh wait. Let me get the lights.” He turned on a standing lamp, the kind people used in their homes, and a dim glow illuminated the inside of the room. “Generator. Impressive, don’t you think?”

Nina looked around, surprised to see this large room, in an old movie theater, decorated like a studio apartment. There was a bed, frame and all, with what looked like clean bedding, and the room smelled floral, like a Glade air freshener. There was more furniture, dusted and polished to a sheen. A dresser and standing wardrobe. An armchair with a throw casually tossed over the back. A bookshelf, filled with books, the titles of which Nina couldn’t make out from where they were standing, but they looked old and maybe valuable.

“I’ll take your speechlessness to mean you’re surprised. Impressed even, perhaps. Come in. Sit down.” Landon pushed her gently, but firmly, into the room and toward the armchair. Nina stumbled ahead, then sat down in the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Let me explain a little about who I am and why you’re here.” Landon pulled up a wooden kitchen chair from the small table he had in what looked like a mini-kitchen and, placing it across from Nina, sat down. “This is my new home. The men out there? They work for me. After everything...” he gestured with his hand, “...happened. After people got sick and died and the power went out, most of the people in this town were gone or dead. Those who were left were panicking. Didn’t know what to do. Killing each other for food.”

“Are you really a sheriff?”

“I am. And I was before as well. You know, a jail is the perfect place to wait out a deadly virus. Get some supplies. Already got weapons. Prisoners all locked up and grateful to be saved. You’d be surprised how easy it is to lead people when they’re scared for their lives. When you’ve
saved
their lives.”

“So you kept the prisoners alive and now they’re your, um, gang? Or whatever?”

“Exactly.” Landon said it proudly, as though he expected Nina to be impressed. He paused, waiting for Nina to speak again.

But she couldn’t any more. Wouldn’t. She was sure this was what shock felt like, sure that this cold feeling, like she was alive but only partly, was a sign that she was losing herself. She wasn’t even certain what he wanted her to say, what he expected from her, a girl he’d just kidnapped and brought to this... whatever this place was. His
lair
.

And the worst, the very worst thing, was knowing Creed was dead. That those assholes out there had killed him. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, never speak again, but she remembered her parents, her brother, her grandmother. She’d be damned if she’d let these men win. She was going to get away. Somehow. Some way. She took a deep breath and tried to regain some of her mental strength.

“So why am I here?” she finally managed.

“She speaks!” Landon tilted his head back a little and assessed her. His eyes were ice blue, creepy in their flawless color.

“Why am I here?” Nina repeated.

“You know what they say.
Behind every great man is a great woman
.”

Nina focused on steady breaths, trying to ignore the spice of his cologne and trying to stop the shaking in her body.
Focus
, she told herself. “What does that have to do with me?” she managed, meeting Landon’s ice blue eyes.

“I need a woman. I plan to rebuild this town here, but unfortunately all the women around here... didn’t make it.” His eyes blurred over for a second, and Nina wondered what he meant by that. “So when my men were out scouting and met a friendly old couple who told them about you and your
friend
stopping by, I knew we just had to go out and find you.”

The old couple! Nina remembered them, their matching white hair, the woman in that bright pink sweatshirt whispering into Nina’s ear that they were going the wrong way. She’d been right, that old woman. This was definitely the wrong way.

“What happened to them?” she dared to ask.

“Who?”

“The old couple.”

“Oh.” Now his voice was suffused with fake sorrow. “I’m sorry to say they perished. Sad, really.”

Nina squeezed her eyes shut for a second and took a deep breath. These people were evil. Dangerous. She knew the chances of making it out of here alive were slim. But she’d never just given up on anything in her life, and this wasn’t going to be the first time.

She wasn’t sure how to play this, what moves to make. That nonexistent Apocalypse Rulebook would probably have a section on what to do if you were kidnapped by a stark raving mad gang of lunatics. She needed to stay strong if she wanted to have even the slimmest chance of surviving.

Nina had always sworn to herself that if she were ever in a situation like this, with a stone-cold psycho, she’d keep her wits about her. She’d play along until she could figure out the best way to escape. Swallowing down the panic that threatened to overtake her, she managed a smile at Landon.

“So,” she said, trying to sound friendly but only managing casual, “you’re looking for a... woman?”

Landon cocked his head as he eyed Nina for a few seconds. “I am. A partner. A support. The Hillary to my Bill. The Angelina to my Brad.”

Nina almost choked on the words but forced them out. “Landon… can I call you that?”

“Of course.” The ghost of a smile touched his dry lips. “Please.”

“Landon,” she sighed. “Look. I’m tired of running. Tired of hiding.”

“You had someone taking care of you, though, didn’t you? What was wrong with him? Did he not, how shall I put it, fulfill your needs?”

Nina rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. “He was… strong. But boring, if I’m being honest. I’m tired of him. I’ve been stuck with him too long. I needed him, but I didn’t like him.” She silently begged forgiveness for saying something like that about Creed.

Thinking about him made her eyes sting, tears threatening to push their way out.
Oh Creed
. He couldn’t really be dead, could he? But the motorcycle. His jacket. She steeled herself once more, focusing on the next step.

“Music to my ears, your words.” Landon crossed one leg over the other and stared at her as if he were trying to figure out whether or not she was being genuine. Finally he spoke. “The thing is, I have trust issues. Bad childhood. End of the world.” He waved his hand in the air casually. “So I’ll need some sort of, shall we say, proof that you’re serious.”

Nina swallowed. “What kind of proof?”

Landon gestured with his head toward the bed.

No. There was no way
. A grimace almost crossed Nina’s face, but she managed to keep her expression stable. Even better, she forced a small smile at Landon. “You know,” she said, “I think that’s a perfect idea. But I can do so much more for you if my hands were untied.” He’d never fall for it. She was giving away her hand.

But he stood, knife in hand, and walked toward her. “Nina,” he said, his voice like tiny bugs crawling over her skin. “You wouldn’t be trying to trick me now, would you?”

Shit
. He knew.

“Landon,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm. “Do you have any idea what it’s like out there? The cold? Winter coming? No food? I had to eat a possum the other day. A
possum
. I don’t want to live like that.” She managed to look him straight in the eye as she said it, managed to keep the repulsion she felt just from being near him repressed. She’d rather eat a million opossums, raw, and a skunk or two as well, than be anywhere near this sicko.