Only Love Survives (Love and Zombies) (6 page)

“Wait, let me get the keys out.” He dug in his pocket. The girl whimpered, and Megan’s resolve withered.

“Can’t we take her away from here, and drop her off before she turns?” Megan fought back tears. She knew the truth as well as he did, but she needed to protest, if for no other reason than to feel like a human and not a monster.

“Let’s go.” He pushed open the glass door that still held its “Open for Business” sign, then turned to the girl. “Stay inside.” He stuffed the keys in his mouth on the way out, and shot the zombie closest to the Suburban right in the head.

Megan ran the few feet to the car door and ripped it open to jump in, then climbed over the center console to her seat. Sam shot one more creature before he piled in next to her, started the car and tore away from the lurching mob.

The girl hobbled out the glass door behind them and screamed drawing the zombies’ attention. They turned and stumbled toward her.

“No.” Megan pleaded and covered her mouth in horror.

“Damn it.” Sam hit the brakes and stood on the seat with his gun just as the first two zombies grabbed the girl.

It was as if the whole thing unfolded in slow motion, and tears ran down Megan’s cheek. One zombie took hold of an arm while another grabbed a shoulder. The girl screamed and fought to break free. Overhead, Sam steadied himself on the edge of the sunroof and took the shot, which rocked the inside of the vehicle. The girl collapsed dead in the monsters’ arms, but it didn’t slow her attackers down. Megan turned away from the carnage.

“Damn it.” Sam slid into his seat passing the gun to Megan, and hit the gas. He floored it all the way through town while Megan let the tears roll unchecked.

Why hadn’t the girl just stayed put?
He’d shot a lot of walking corpses in the last few months, but none that were still human.

It was all he could do not to curl up and hide in some dirty shadow. Any last pretense of decency had been stripped from him in that little maneuver, and Sam felt like raw meat exposed for all to feast upon. He’d become a monster without the luxury of dying first.

He didn’t dare look at Megan. He didn’t dare look in the rear view mirror. He just drove, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, foot on the pedal. The harder he fought not to think about it, the harder he gripped the wheel until he thought it might snap in his hands.

Seven months. Seven months of this shit. He didn’t think he could handle one more hour like this. If not for finding Summer, he might just let the next monster eat him and be done with it all.

Forty miles passed before Megan stopped crying, another thirty before she spoke.

“I…” Her throat cracked, and she started again. “I have to stop.”

Sam jerked his chin in a tight nod and pulled off the road at the next turnout. The nice thing about a country highway was all the little places to pull over and gawk at the scenery. When the car ground to a stop in the gravel, she opened the door without a word and headed for the trees. Sam didn’t bother to offer a gun this time.

His white knuckles ached from clenching the steering wheel for the last hour. He rubbed his hands together to dull the pain. It didn’t work. The image of that child being eaten alive filled his mind again and overwhelmed him. He slammed his fist into the roof of the Suburban. Once, twice…by the fifth time he’d lost his head of steam, and it ended in more of a tap. Sam examined his knuckles again. Red and swollen.

He leaned back against the headrest and caught sight of Megan out of the corner of his eye. She stood at the side of the car, hands on her hips with her head tilted sideways.
Great.
He closed his eyes. The car door clicked and the seat creaked as she got back in, but he ignored it. She could think whatever she wanted about him. He couldn’t let that child…suffer.

Megan’s small fingers cupped his chin and he opened his eyes as she turned his face toward her.

“It had to be done.” She stared deep in his eyes, and for a second, he thought he would break in two. “Do you hear me, Sam? It had to be done. You know it, I know it. Anyone who had a shred of humanity left in them would know it.” She let her hand drop, but did not release his gaze. She repeated. “It had to be done.”

Something came over Sam, he grabbed the hand that had just been on his cheek and kissed her palm, then held it to his chest. He had no words, but drove his gaze into her consumed with the need for her to understand what he felt, even though he didn’t really understand himself.

She nodded and gently pulled her hand free.

“I found a river back there. It’s not much, but it’s enough to wash in.”

Sam watched her grab the pack and slide back out of the car. She turned and slammed the car door shut, then leaned in the open window with her arms crossed.

“I have a bar of soooap,” she tempted in a singsong voice. “I tell you what, since you were kind enough to share your raccoon and crackers with me, I am willing to share my bar of soap with you. Follow me.”

That was it? No lecture about losing it? No comment on what a miserable SOB he was?
He watched Megan saunter away in awe, until he realized she was about to disappear from view. Sam grabbed his gun and his spare, dirty shirt from the back. Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d share enough soap so he could wash that too.

Megan stopped at the tree line. She waited for him with an amazing smile that reached down his throat and soothed the sore spots. Sam locked the rig and jogged to catch up to her. Then he heard it. The rush of flowing water. She turned and he followed her down an overgrown path. It wrapped around a tree, then some bushes before he actually saw the water.

She was right. There wasn’t much to it. But it looked clean and at least waist deep, enough to dunk his entire six-foot four-inch frame all the way under, if he bent in half. Sam didn’t even want to think about how long it had been since he’d had a proper bath, shower…
anything
.

He set the gun on a flat rock within reach in case he needed it. She slid out of her pack and set it next to the gun. He watched her rifle through it. When Megan pulled the bar of soap out with a cheer and held it up in the air as if she’d struck gold, he wondered what other miracles she held in that bag of hers. It was a damn Mary Poppins bag, and he waited for her to start pulling out umbrellas and lamps. Instead, she zipped it shut and splashed off the rock right into the water…shoes, giant watch and all.

“Fudge and brownies! That’s cold.”

Sam burst out laughing. “You are the worst swearer I have ever met.”

He leapt in and the water swallowed him to his waist. A million icy needles poked him in every nook and cranny. “Son of a bitch.”

He lifted his arms up out of the water for balance and circled around to face her. “See. That’s how you do it.”

“Ah, an expert.” She pointed at the dirty shirt in his hand. “What’s that?”

He felt a little sheepish. “My other shirt. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I washed it too.”

My other shirt?
Had those words really come out of his mouth? There’d been a time when he owned more suits than he could count. A closet full of silk ties. A drawer full of cuff links. Everything a man of stature needed to be stylish. The memory of the first winter after his parents died popped into his head. How hard he worked to put a warm coat and shoes on his sister. That had been the turning point in their lives. After that, it had become his mission to own the world, and her mission to save it. The more he thought about things, it made sense that Summer might have gone to Vegas.

“Technically, I got the soap right before you rescued me off a roof. So, as far as I’m concerned, it’s half yours. Use as much as you want.” Megan’s voice jolted him back to the here and now. She dunked under water and jumped up again with a gasp.

He blew out several hard breaths as he lowered himself inch by inch into the cold. Sam tucked his legs up until he managed to slip under the surface. He stayed there as long as he could—until his lungs burned, and his flesh adjusted to the cool rush of water around him.

When Sam surfaced, Megan stood with her back to him, soaping her hair. His heart raced and his hands flexed involuntarily, almost dropping the spare shirt. He tossed it up on a rock and stepped toward her.

Sam eased the soap from her hand. She turned her head to look up at him over her shoulder, eyebrows knit together in question. He lifted her wet locks in one hand, and skimmed the bar of soap over them with the other. Megan closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and gave him full access to her entire head. He rubbed his hands together and watched the bubbles build while his fingers worked the golden brown strands into a lather. It felt damn good to touch a warm human being. Flesh and blood, pulsating with life.

He’d been alone too long.
Months
. Hard to say exactly, since he didn’t know what day it was. Bet she knew. She probably knew the exact date it happened, today’s date, all of it. He could ask, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was enough just to touch her.

Sam reached over and set the soap on his discarded shirt then focused on the slippery tresses in his hands. He slid his hands through them, over and over, until all the knots came undone between his fingers. When he raised his hands to the top of her head and massaged above her ears, a moan of pleasure escaped her, and it echoed inside him. Fire rushed to his lower abdomen. Despite the cool water flowing around them, his body responded in a way it had no right. He let his fingers slide to the ends of the strands again. Her shoulder glistened, and when he scooped up a handful of water to rinse away the soap, he let his palms trail down to her shoulders just to see if they were as soft as they promised to be. She relaxed under his ministrations, so he didn’t stop. He allowed his fingers to trace a path down her arm to her hand below the surface of the water where he laced his digits with hers.

She curled her fingers around his in response and it lent all the encouragement he needed. The creamy curve of her neck called to him. Sam bent down to taste the skin there. She melted back against him, and his other arm snaked around her middle pressing her even tighter to his chest. She sighed as his lips explored the soft contours of her small frame.

He didn’t want to take her this way, but his body was on fire and he needed to feel her against him now. It had been too long and he had little control left, but he had the sense to ask her first.

“Megan?” he rasped.

She turned around and faced him. The desire in her eyes matched the urgency he felt.

Sam captured her face in his hands and plundered her mouth. There was no slow, gentle permission seeking that should be present in a first kiss. They were past that. It was hot, wet and demanding, which she met with demands of her own.
God, she could argue with that tongue even without saying a word.

Her hands slipped under his wet shirt and left fiery trails across his stomach muscles as she ran her fingers along the top of his jeans, then tugged at the snap. It burst open, and she reached down his fly. He shuddered with the effort to remain in control, but suddenly the tables turned and she was in charge. The fire running through his veins made him forget the cold water, the forest around them, everything but her and the desire in her eyes. When she stepped back and unzipped her own pants, he had a clear view of her nipples pressing through the wet T-shirt and lace of her bra.

Sam reached for her with a growl. Wrapping one arm around her for support, he captured the pink flesh in his teeth…shirt, bra and all. He felt her struggling out of her wet pants under the surface of the water and used his free hand to help her, then tossed the pants and panties on the rock next to his shirt. Megan wound her arms around his neck stretching her warmth against him. He slid his hands down her body and lifted both her thighs around his waist, plunging deep into her slick folds with one thrust. She threw her head back and moaned. When he withdrew, she leaned forward and captured his mouth in a frenzied kiss matching his hunger. It felt wrong to use her like this, but her hunger seemed as strong as his.

He tried to slow the pace, to linger and get the job done right. She clasped him harder and set the rhythm for him, driving him half-mad with the need to fill his hollow existence with her body and connect with her in every way humanly possible. He rocked her against his flesh until she tensed in his arms and cried out in pleasure. The gentle spasms around his manhood sent him over the edge, and he held her tight as his own orgasm overtook him with one final pulsating drive into her soft flesh.

Sam rested his forehead against hers while he tried to catch his breath, but Megan pulled away and unwrapped her legs from his hips.

“Stay,” he rasped, not ready to give up the proximity of her soft, warm body.

“I need my pants.” She wiggled free and didn’t look at him.

Sam reluctantly gave up his hold on her and watched Megan bounce the three steps over to the rock where her pants sat. Every other woman he’d ever met,
okay…slept with
, usually tried to get her hooks in him at this point. Her sudden retreat confounded him.

He was drawn to Megan in a way he’d never been to anyone before. She was an amazing puzzle that warranted sorting out.

Horrified by her behavior, Megan couldn’t bring herself to look at Sam, but she felt the weight of his stare. He followed her every move. She’d never acted like such a slut in all her life. In fact, she’d only slept with two other men before. A boyfriend in college and the jerk she broke up with six months before the epidemic started, both of which had been long-term relationships. She was starting to care about Sam and now she’d behaved like a nympho in search of a last meal. What had she been thinking?