Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (15 page)

She groaned when he entered her, struggling to contain him, but she got wet soon enough. For the first time in two weeks, Jackson forgot all about God.
 

When they were finished, she pushed him off and sat up. ‘Okay, can we talk properly now?’

He lay back on the pillow, one arm over his head. ‘How about we do some more of that?’

‘Once is more than enough, thank you. You’ve been good for nothing since we got here and I understand why. I know about men’s urges and I don’t blame you for them. But now we’re done I expect you to get focused.’

The tone of her voice, so businesslike and matter of fact, made him blink a few times. He watched her walk naked across to the bathroom. She was so fine. And she was getting in the shower. He grinned and climbed out of the bed. The water was running when he climbed in behind her and put his hands on her tits. She jumped and stiffened against him and he waited for the inevitable softening.
 

She turned within his arms and their eyes met. He almost took his arms away, but didn’t. Then he felt her hand on his dick and grinned. She gripped him hard and his grin widened. Harder still and the smile slipped. She brought her lips close to his ear, water flicking off them as she spoke. ‘I’m going to keep squeezing until I break your penis. I don’t know what will happen when it goes, but I’m guessing going to the toilet will hurt like nothing else.’

His arms dropped. Who was she to talk to him like this? Who the hell did she think she was? He grabbed her round the throat and slammed her against the wall of the shower. Her hold on his dick loosened and she tried to speak, but her face was already going pink as he choked the life from her. Stupid, greedy, teasing bitch, who the hell did—.

He let go and she struck the floor of the shower, sliding down until she lay halfway between his legs. Her face was near his dick but it was soft and getting softer. The water hammered down and stole the first tears that came from his eyes. Then he threw himself out of the shower and into the bathroom, slipping to his knees for a moment.
 

He staggered into her room and fell again, driving his face into the ground between his legs as though he could scare away his sin. He was evil. He thought he’d beaten it, but it was still in him, still strong. He howled, the sound muffled by the floor but the pain no less real.
 

The shower switched off. He heard her enter the bedroom, the gentle pad of her naked feet across the carpet. She was still naked and he couldn’t help the stirring between his legs. How could he? How could he apologise? Nothing he could say would make this any better.
 

Her footsteps changed. She had boots on now and he waited for the door to open. Instead something struck him in the side, high up in the ribs. He grunted and rocked sideways, but stayed right where he was. Another blow in the same place and the pain was multiplied. With the third blow he thought his rib broke. He struggled to breathe and panted, his breath hot against his legs.
 

She moved on, driving the toe of her boot into his arse a few times until he whimpered. Then she slammed the heel down into his back. He was being punished. He deserved the punishment. This was what God wanted. This would drive the sin away. He could punish himself all he wanted but Harriet was one of God’s ladies, one of his chosen, and she had the right to punish him.
 

The kicking stopped and he gasped, blackness closing in around the corners of his eyes. Then something else struck him and he hissed between his teeth. It was, he realised, the telephone from the side of the bed. It beat around his back and didn’t hurt nearly enough, but when she started smashing him over the head and in the ears and side of the face, it hurt plenty.
 

He tried to hide, so she went around behind him and drove her boot between his legs. He was certain one of his balls burst and he screamed, shunting forward on the carpet to escape. She kicked him again and then went crazy with the phone, hitting him over and over again until he fell from his scrunched up position onto his side and covered his face with his hands.
 

Eventually the beating stopped. He cracked open his eyes and looked up. She stood above him, wearing nothing but her boots and a face full of tears. He wanted to say he was sorry, to beg forgiveness in the eyes of the Lord. But why should she forgive him?
 

‘You can fuck me now.’

He blinked, not believing what he was hearing. But his dick was hard between his legs and despite the pain that racked his body he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her. Her chest was heaving, her breasts thrusting out towards him, and this time she welcomed him as he grabbed her and shoved her against the wall.
 

Alex

Alex was itchy. He still clung to the secret he’d spent the last week guarding, expecting Luke to expose him at any moment. Except he hadn’t, and the guilt had built and built until he was ready to scream.
 

He wasn’t screaming though. He was sitting in the main room with Sophie, a beautiful woman his own age who was both deliciously naive and experienced. Not in that way, he was pretty certain, but there was more to her than she was letting on. There had to be, no one was this innocent.
 

Why couldn’t he forget about his part in the plague and move on? No one else cared where it came from. The truth was, it came from the soldiers of God. If they hadn’t stolen it from the government it would still be locked in a bunker deep below ground. So it was their fault. Him designing it made him no more guilty than the person who made the trucks in which it was delivered.
 

He nodded and Sophie stopped mid-sentence. ‘You really think he was right?’

‘What? Sorry, no, I…’ He blushed and sat straighter. ‘Sorry, I drifted off. There’s a lot going on. What were you saying?’

She didn’t even look affronted, just nodded and smiled and started again. He tried to pay attention this time, he really did, but it was difficult. Because regardless of who was to blame for the plague, he still couldn’t deny the other problem that was growing larger by the minute. That problem sat across the room, hair tied back, attacking a sandwich and very pointedly not looking at him.
 

Did Bayleigh like him? He thought she did, but she was being very cool about it if she did. And she thought the age difference was an issue. She looked good, great for thirty four, but she’d nearly fainted when he said he was twenty two. Nearly fainted and then looked really disappointed. He blinked and focused on what Sophie was saying.
 

They’d moved onto her course at Uni and how thrilling it was and he realised he was in completely the wrong place talking to the wrong person. He excused himself and left the room, expecting to find Bayleigh wandering the corridors. They were deserted. It felt quiet in here since half the ladies had left. There were still fifty something of them crammed into a tiny space, but it was subdued, as though Jackson had dragged off all the ones with any spirit.
 

He headed for their room and found it empty, then went room by room through their area. After walking in on a couple of the ladies in fewer clothes than expected, he took to knocking on doors. He paused by one, hand raised, and stopped before he knocked. There were sounds coming from within and, face flushed, he leant closer.
 

They were… odd. There was a man in there who could only be Dave and he sounded like he was having a great time. But there was another voice that sounded strained and he couldn’t decide if she was enjoying herself or not. Then her voice grew louder and broke as she said ‘no’ and Alex slammed the door open.
 

Dave was half naked, trousers around his ankles as he stood at the end of the bed. The woman lying in front of him was fully clothed. Her face was red and she was batting feebly at Dave’s hands where they latched around her throat.
 

‘Dave, stop it, you’re killing her.’

Dave turned to stare at him and Alex froze, one hand stretched out towards him. He was snarling, lips pulled back from his teeth like a dog, and his features were twisted in a way he could only describe as inhuman. There was something inside him, pushing at his skin as it tried to get out. Alex’s stomach turned. It wasn’t Dave he was looking at, but whatever was wearing his skin. And its hands were still tight around her neck.
 

Alex charged in and grabbed his arms. Dave retaliated by taking one hand away and backhanding Alex across the face. It was like being hit by a car and he flew back, slamming his back against the edge of the open door. He shouted in pain as he hit the floor, his hand twisting awkwardly beneath his body. Dave ignored him, hands once again around her neck.
 

Alex clambered up the door frame and searched for a weapon. The woman wasn’t moving, her hands barely clawing at Dave’s arms. Shit, shit, shit. He grabbed one of the tacky swivel chairs and hefted it off the floor. His first blow was clumsy, bouncing off Dave’s shoulder and barely making him move. With the second swing he got Dave in the face and he released the woman, staggering back with his hands up.

Alex put himself between them, raising the chair in defence. Dave made a sound, like car tires squealing on tarmac, then rushed Alex with eyes that burned red. He almost dumped the chair and ran, but the woman on the bed was coughing which meant she was alive. He wasn’t going to give Dave a chance to change that.
 

Dave ran straight into the chair and bashed Alex back against the bed. Then he grabbed the base of it and yanked it from Alex’s hand. His heart sunk like he’d just stepped into traffic. Dave lunged and grabbed him by the face, fingers digging into his skin. He aimed a punch for Dave’s face and got him on the chin. His head snapped back but his fingers dug further into Alex’s cheek.
 

He made a sound deep in his throat as his eyes began to water. Dave was going to tear his face open. He found the bar that ran under the bed with one foot and pushed himself up until he stood a full head above Dave. The pressure on his cheek got worse until he was sure his skin was tearing. Then he threw himself on top of him. They went down in a shower of limbs and Dave’s head cracked against the floor.
 

Dave went limp. Alex rolled off and lay on his back, sucking in air and staring up at the ceiling. The lady’s face appeared over the edge of the bed. She looked first at Alex, who gave her a weak smile she didn’t even attempt to return. Then she looked at Dave. Her expression grew grim and she scooted sideways off the bed.
 

She came around the end, arms wrapped around herself, and nudged him with her foot. He blinked and looked around. He caught sight of the woman and blushed, looked down at his naked legs and rumpled trousers and blushed even more.
 

‘Did we… What am I doing on the floor?’

The woman stared at him and burst into tears. She booted him, but her heart wasn’t in it. Alex scrambled to his feet and put his arm around her shoulders, hustling her out of the room. The moment they got into the corridor she extricated herself from his embrace and stood away from him. Her shoulders were heaving up and down and the tears were getting worse.
 

‘Look, I think you should be with your friends, come on.’

He led her down the hallway to the main room and pushed through the door. The moment the women saw her they flocked and he pulled himself free of the mess. He trudged back to the room, trying to figure out what the hell happened next.
 

Dave had pulled his trousers up and was sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. He glanced up then back at his hands. ‘What did I do?’

‘You know you did something?’

‘She was crying. And that look…’ he trailed off. ‘We came in here to have fun. You don’t look at someone like that after you’ve shagged.’

‘You didn’t shag.’

‘I figured that much out.’

His voice was still monotone, only rising slightly towards the end of his sentence. It was as though he was trying to pretend an emotion that wasn’t there. Alex put his hands on his hips and stared at him. ‘Do you honestly not remember what you just did?’

Dave shook his head, looking entirely calm. ‘Nope, not a clue.’

‘You strangled her. If I hadn’t come in when I did, she’d be dead.’

Dave nodded. ‘That’s bad.’

‘Yeah, just a bit. What happened?’

‘I don’t remember. She approached me and was flirting really heavy so I just went along with it. We came in here and then…’ He shrugged and raised his hands. ‘No idea.’

Alex paced back and forth across the room. ‘I’m not sure they’re going to believe that.’

‘So?’

‘Are you aware of what’s just happened? Half of them have left, just buggered off to who knows where. The ones that are left need to feel safe and you’ve just strangled one half to death. That’s not a good start.’

He didn’t mention the murder. He’d discuss it with Bayleigh because he was now sure it was Dave. But what was to be gained? Should they lock him up somewhere? Why? What was the point? What did justice look like in the new world? He had a horrible feeling it wouldn’t look like a nice jail cell and rehabilitation. It was more likely to involve something a little more old-fashioned.
 

What bugged him was not knowing whether he was protecting Dave for Luke’s sake or because he truly believed that getting him in a room and letting everyone attack him wasn’t going to help. He’d never thought much about his morals, but with everything that had happened, they felt paper thin and irrelevant.
 

He stopped pacing and looked at Dave. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t know I was doing it.’

‘So no motive. That makes you the best killer, you know?’

‘I don’t want to kill anyone.’

‘Can I suggest avoiding one to one contact with anyone in the next, oh, seventy years or so then?’

‘Why did it happen? What’s wrong with me?’