Zombie Fighter Jango #1 The Road to Hell Is Paved With Zombies (8 page)

“A stick, see, t
hat’s something you can use that won’t get stuck in bone. AND, since zombies don’t seem to be all that interested in defending themselves, they just keep coming at you, so you can use your whacking stick to keep one off of you.”

He
demonstrated for Sonja using a two-handed grip on his stick. He held the stick parallel to the ground at shoulder level. His hands divided the stick into thirds, with about 10 inches extending out from each fist, and about 10 inches between his hands.

He then made a shoving motion that utilized his entire body, his legs, and his arms.
The movement was a sinuous whipping motion that resembled the movement that a snake would make when it struck. He quickly brought the stick back, and threw two stick punches in rapid succession. Getting into it now, he told her, “This next one is the kayak attack; it’s a seriously gnarly attack that gets your whole body into the strikes.”

Jango then demonst
rated the movements with his stick. The kayak attack was a brutal looking two-handed attack that resembled a series of left and right hooks, except that the ends of the stick were what he would hit something with instead of his fists. His hips pivoted into each strike as his shoulders whirled quickly to add impetus to the blows.

Sonja watched closely,
and her martial-arts background served her well as she easily picked up the body mechanics of his movements. She immediately realized the practical brutality of the stick strikes. She also saw why he called the movements the kayak attack. Jango’s violent movements very closely resembled someone madly paddling a kayak.

He
suddenly stopped his demonstration and jogged over to the water containers, where he grabbed a plastic jug, and without a word, jogged through the door to the back.

Sonja had begun to get use to
his odd behavior, so she just waited patiently to see what he was up to this time.

Jango had filled
the large container with water, and when he got back, he promptly set the jug on a counter that was still intact.

He told Sonja, “Go grab one of those Cold Steel poly-whatever shillelaghs. Just grab whichever one feels right.”

She grabbed a shillelagh off the wall at random, and walked over to stand with him.

Jango squared up in his basic starting stance
for stick-fighting, left foot very slightly leading the right, left shoulder turned slightly forward, elbows against his ribs, and the stick in the two-handed grip in front of his face.

“Okay, this is a stick punch
. It’s a VERY easy move, but it hits super-hard,” he told her. “Just act like you’re throwing a punch, let your weight move forward, drive off your right foot, swivel your hips, and torque your shoulder forward, then let the punch go.”

He
demonstrated the move slowly as he talked.

“Then, just before full extension, snap your wrist so the just shoots forward!”
He demonstrated the stick punch at full speed time. The heavy ironwood stick was a blur as it shot forward. There was a meaty thunk as the part of the stick closest to him hit the back of his forearm at full extension. He drew it back just as quickly.

He
threw several more stick punches, and Sonja noticed that he didn’t need to make any sound effects with his mouth. In his hands, the stick cut through the air with a whistling noise as it wove a blurred web of death in front of him.

She
emulated his movements, slowly at first, then with increasing speed as she became comfortable with the movement.

“Now remember,”
he warned, “Don’t extend your arms out all the way on any strikes, okay? That can hyper-extend your elbows and leave you up shit-creek without a fighting stick OR a paddle.”

Sonja adjusted her strikes so that her arms didn’t fully extend. She practiced moving and striking, getting her footwork in sync with the unfamiliar style of fighting.

Jango nodded his approval. “You really picked that up fast!” He exclaimed. “What martial art do you practice?” He asked her.

She
stopped snapping the stick out, and asked him, “How did you know that?”

“I just noticed your build, how you move, and the first two knuckles on each of your hands. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out you can kick ass. Oh, plus you told me how you chest-jacked that Zombie that tried to get your chitterlings, remember?”

She looked at her knuckles, then at her arms, and shrugged her shoulders. “I studied a whole bunch of different systems of fighting,” she answered, “But mostly just Krav Maga now.” Sonja was proud of her accomplishments in the various martial arts she had studied over the years, and it secretly pleased her that he had been able to figure it out.

Jango nodded. The Israeli martial art of Krav Maga was a good system of practical ass
kicking that he respected.

“So, what’s the water jug for?”
She asked.

He
smiled, happy that she had finally asked about the jug. He told her, “So you can see the kind of damage you can do with your stick. Go ahead and hit the jug with a stick punch.” Jango encouraged her with a smile.

Sonja stepped forward, brought her shillelagh up, and moved forward, her whole body moving into the strike. The stick impacted the water jug with a sound like a small-caliber gun being fired, and the jug literally exploded under the impact.

Her face broke out in a huge grin. “That. Was. AWESOME!” She shouted happily.

Jango had a smile on his face almost as big as Sonja
did, mostly happy because he finally had someone who shared his joy of destroying things.

He held up his left hand for a high-five, and told
her, “That
was
awesome. You really picked that up FAST!”

Sonja gave
him a high-five. She was still grinning, and she was flushed from her exertions. She held on to Jango’s hand when the high-five was over, a warm, lingering touch that shook him to his very core.

His
breath caught in his throat, as he felt a warm feeling spread from his stomach to his chest, neck, and then to his face. He felt like his body was bursting at the seams, and he didn’t know how to react.

Jango’s mouth went dry, and he couldn’t think
straight, much less speak. He had never had anyone touch him gently before, not like that. He could feel Sonja’s pulse in her hand, and, as he looked into her eyes, he wanted to kiss her so badly he felt like he would die if he didn’t. But he couldn’t move.

Sonja saved
him from his paralysis by dropping her shillelagh, grabbing the front of his jeans, and jerking him close to her. She grabbed the back of Jango’s head, and pulled him even closer as she kissed him on his mouth. Her tongue darted out, and pressed against Jango’s lips, softly, but insistently.

His
lips parted as if they had a will of their own and he put his arms around Sonja as he melted into her passionate kiss. She pulled away from him just long enough to take the stick out of his hand, and then she pulled him back into their heated embrace. Her lips were as soft as silk against Jango’s lips. Her tongue caressed his lips, then plunged into his mouth quickly only to draw back out. He kissed her neck, and tasted the salty tang of her sweat. 

He
felt his erection straining against the material of his jeans, like a starved beast that had been caged for too long, and had finally smelled food. He felt as if his whole body could explode at any moment, but he also felt…..good.

When he was a child, sex was a terrible thing. Sex was to be avoided at all costs, and in the
state-run gladiator academies that the social workers called boy’s homes, group homes, and foster homes, Jango had fought to NOT have sex.

Later on, when he was a teen and then an adult, Jango had a few passing flings that mostly consisted of quickies in alleys behind bars, or in abandoned houses
, standing, pressed against graffiti-marred walls and surrounded by garbage from other squatters.

He
had never known that anything could feel this warm and good.

He let his hands wander over Sonja’s lithe, muscular body as they kissed. His hands went under her light cotton blouse, and the feel of her bare skin under his hands almost made
him orgasm. He pulled away so he could look at her. He wanted to see her face, to see if he could read anything there. When he looked at her, Jango felt the flames of his desire when he saw that her face was as full of passion and heat as he knew his own face must be.

“I don’t really know what to do,”
he whispered to her as he truly looked at her face for the first time. He noticed then that her eyes were a beautiful shade of lavender, and that they were burning with desire. Her full, red lips were slightly parted, and a red, flushed color had risen to her cheeks.

“I do,” Sonja promised as she reached for Jango’s belt.

Chapter 13:

Zompoc Sex

Jango and Sonja
undressed each other without judgment or any kind of script. Getting undressed proved somewhat difficult when they couldn’t seem to stop kissing each other while they disrobed.

When their clothes were finally in a pile on the floor,
Sonja reached down and gently took hold of his erection, and softly stroked it several times, kneading the shaft toward the tip, pulling it toward her. Jango’s breathing was ragged and uneven as he leaned his head down to her breasts, and took one of her rose-colored nipples into his mouth. She gasped, and put her strong hands on his shoulders to hold him there.

Jango licked and suckled gently on her nipple, then
after a few moments, Sonja exerted a slight downward pressure on his shoulders, a subtle hint, a soft request, and he let himself be led by it.

He
trailed his tongue down the flat, hard plane of her stomach, tasting her sweat on his lips. His tongue flitted over her navel, and then circled it several times. She gasped, then moaned, “Please,” in a throaty whisper, and increased the pressure against Jango’s shoulders.

Sonja felt a deep ache between her
legs; a pressing need for the release that she knew would come when he finally put his mouth on her. She had heard stories about people in life threatening situations that had crazy sexual urges, but the ache that she felt between her thighs made her want to scream out loud.

She put all of her weight and strength on Jango’s unyielding shoulders and moaned again, “Please
…please, mmmm, it hurts down there.” He resisted the pressure, and reached his hands around her hips to cup the firm globes of her muscular buttocks. Jango kneaded her buttocks as his tongue teased around her navel. His fingers were splayed in the cleft between her cheeks as he kneaded and held her to him. 

“Uhnnnnnnn,” Sonja moaned plaintively, “Just kiss it, baby, please, please, it hurts so fuckin’ bad, just kiss it a little bit.”
He finally relented, and let her push him down where she wanted him to be. Jango relished how the rough wetness of her pubic hair felt against his chest, neck, then finally his chin and lips as he slid down her body. He inhaled Sonja’s scent as he slowly knelt in front of her, and put his mouth between her legs.

Sonja spread her thighs slightly,
moaning softly as she raised one leg up on its toes so his tongue could find its way in. She directed him by moving her hips, and by moving his head with a tight grip on the sides until his tongue was on the spot she needed him to kiss.

Jango felt the hard little piece of velvet that was her clitoris, and he gently licked it
as she ground herself against his lips and tongue until, with a long shuddering sigh and a moaning sob, she came. He felt her spasm against his lips when she climaxed, and felt her hot juices dripping down his lips. He licked her several times, long, lingering caresses with his tongue, enjoying the taste of the pleasure he had given her.

Sonja dropped to her knees
in front of Jango, and pushed against his chest until he had leaned back against his calves. She took his erection in her hand and pulled it roughly, as she dropped her face to his lap, and took him into her mouth. He tried to put his hands on Sonja’s head, but she pushed them away.

“”Uh-uh,”
she said to him without taking the head of his penis out of her mouth. She slid her mouth back down his quivering shaft, while she squeezed his swollen testicles with one hand, and stroked the base of his shaft with her other hand. Sonja’s head bobbed faster, and her hand stroked more quickly. Jango felt his muscles start to convulse, and a heavy pressure building at the base of his erection.

“I’m gonna come
, I’m gonna come!” Jango gasped out. He wanted to give her a chance to take her mouth off of his engorged penis before he came.

Sonja moaned around his hardness,
but kept him in her mouth. Her moan pushed him over the edge, and he felt himself explode in her burning hot mouth. Jango shuddered and shivered as he emptied into her mouth. She kneaded and squeezed his balls while milking the length of his shaft. She swallowed hard once, and then her lips smiled around the still swollen head of his sex.

He
pulled her mouth off of him, and there was a soft sucking sound as he slid out of her mouth. Jango kissed her mouth hard. The flavor of sex on their lips and tongues mingled in their mouths and made a taste that belonged only to them. 

Sonja grabbed
him by his shoulders, and as she lay down on her back, she pulled Jango on top of her taut and glistening body. She spread her legs wide, and took hold of his penis. “Mmmmmm, you’re still hard, baby.” She tugged on his erection a few times, and then she grabbed it near the base, and pulled him toward her wetness.

As
Jango slowly entered her, he gasped out loud, surprised at how hot she felt inside. As he slid into her wet heat, it felt like his hard-on had to be thirty feet long. He felt like it took several minutes for him to slip fully inside her, rather than the seconds it actually took. He felt her silky wetness clamp around him as he pulled back, and felt it loosen as he plunged back inside of her. Jango gently thrust into Sonja, fully imbedding his swollen member inside of her with every thrust.

Sonja’s hands were claws on his buttocks, pulling him into her, holding him so he wouldn’t stop. She raised her
knees up, and spread her legs further apart so that he could penetrate her even more deeply.

As Jango neared orgasm, he felt
his muscles begin twitching and jerking. His thrusts became more urgent and less coordinated, his thighs slapped loudly against Sonja’s buttocks and thighs as he slammed into her welcoming, wet heat.

Sonja
felt a rush of heat as her sex clenched, and then exploded. It felt like electricity jolting through her insides as she climaxed. She felt a flood of release as the spasms of her orgasm shook her body. She clawed Jango’s buttocks as she bucked her hips hard, keeping time with his pounding thrusts.

Jango’s face was beside Sonja’s, arms to either side of her face
, hands cupped on top of her head to keep her from sliding as he slammed into her. His weight rested on his elbows and knees as he thrust a few more times, and then came inside of her with a groan of pleasure.

Sonja could feel Jango’s orgasm as his balls constricted and pumped between their sweat-slicked bodies.
She felt his hot semen pumping into her, and the feeling of it spurting into her made her come again.

The two lovers shuddered and gasped in the sweaty aftermath of their passions as their sweat began to cool, and dry.

“Don’t worry,” said Jango, his voice muffled by Sonja’s shoulder. “You won’t get pregnant from me. I had my nuts clipped years ago.”

Sonja was surprised at that. “Why did you do that?” She asked him.

“Because my blood is poison, and my DNA comes from some of the foulest humans I ever heard of, and I won’t risk it going on to another generation,” he told her.

She
felt his penis shrivel and slip out of her.

Sonja had to ask him, “What did they do
to you? Why are they foul?” Even as she asked, she felt that she knew the answer, but with an intuition that she didn’t even know she possessed, she knew that Jango needed to answer the question out loud.

“What
didn’t
they do to me.” Jango said in a flat tone, not a question, a statement. Then he told her about the abuse, the horrible feeling of helplessness as the pain of his father whipping him made him shit and piss himself. He told her about the cousin who raped him when he was 4 years old. He told her how that hadn’t been the first time his cousin had done it, but that it had been the last time.

He
told Sonja how his dad had laughed as he told Jango later on in life how that same cousin had raped him at a family reunion when he was only 1 year old. He hadn’t known that when his cousin, Denny, hurt him at 4 years old, but Jango believed that the spark of fire inside his chest knew, and that was when he found his strength.

After
Denny had finished with him, he climbed off Jango’s back and laughed at the blood, shit, and semen dripping from Jango’s savaged rectum. That laugh brought Jango’s other cousin, Jenny, and she yelled at her brother, but did nothing for Jango. It was at that moment that he found the fire inside of him. He realized that the entire world was his enemy, and even though he lacked the words to express it, he knew it all the way to his core.

Jango rolled off the couch that he had been on, and calmly went into the kitchen where he opened the drawer where his mother kept the kitchen knives.
He reached up into the drawer above his head, and took the first knife that his fingers touched.

The knife was a dull, serrated steak knife. Jango didn’t know about different kinds of knives, or even about sharp and dull knives
. He just knew that they cut things. He came back into the living room where Denny had gotten dressed while Jenny bitched at him about “fucking up her baby-sitting job.”

He
rushed at Denny, slashing at his crotch and thighs with the dull knife. Such was the fury of little Jango’s onslaught that the knife actually made it through the rapist’s jeans on some of the slashes, and Denny let out a high-pitched, piercing wail as he pissed his pants in fear.

Denny reached to stop him, and Jango slashed his hand. Jango didn’t need any lessons in how to use a knife
. Another part of him had woken up, and it knew everything there was to know about violence.

Jango sensed something, and dropped to the floor just as Jenny tried to grab him from behind.
He buried the point of the knife in her foot, and then pulled it out as he stood up and went after Denny again.

Both cousins ran from the skid-row apartment his mother and
he lived in, and Jango calmly shut the door and locked it.

Sonja was shocked to her very core by the flat, emotionless way Jango had recited the horrible events that were his childhood, and even more shocked by the events themselves.
She felt tears on her face, tears for a little boy that she never knew. Her tears fell for a little boy that had never really been a little boy.

Jango intruded on her thoughts, “You know
; that was when I realized that I could win. I realized that no matter how bad they hurt me, I could get them somehow, some way.” He continued talking. “From that point on, if I had almost any object in my hand, I just knew instinctively how to use it as a weapon.”

“I am like an autistic-savant, socially inept, emotionally retarded, but a fucking genius when it comes to throwing-down.” Jango’s voice had a hint of sadness as he spoke of his weakness and a hint of pride as he spoke of his strength.

“I figured out a long time ago that I could never go back, I could never be “normal”. And the truth is that I just don’t give two shits any more. I just want to be left alone, and not have anybody try to take my shit.”

Jango added hurriedly, “I mean, left alone except for you! I really don’t mind you, I mean, shit! That didn’t sound right.”

He stopped talking, worried, when he felt Sonja’s body shaking against him. Then he realized she was laughing. He watched her for a moment, and then joined her in a pure, clean, laughter that felt like a cleansing rain to his battered mind and spirit.

They
fell asleep after that, a soft and gentle sleep as they lay naked, entangled in each other’s arms. They were tired, and they slept soundly, peacefully unaware of the growing horde of zombies outside their sanctuary.