Apocalypse Cowboy: Futuristic Romance with Zombies (9 page)

“Calm down, kitten. I’ll find her,” Brody lied, not knowing what else to say with Hannah so crazed with worry over her sister’s disappearance. The selfish brat. He could understand her impatience, but there was impatient and then there was running off in a tantrum with almost no supplies and no clue about the danger she could face.

“How will you find her?” wailed Hannah. “She could be anywhere. What if she’s hurt? Oh god. This is all my fault.” She collapsed on the couch, her face buried in her hands while her shoulders shook.

Was it wrong Brody wanted to shake Beth until her teeth rattled for doing this to her sister?
Ungrateful, little brat.
“I am pretty sure she’ll have headed to that Amish settlement. I’ll hunt around for another working motorbike and go looking for her. I’ll bring her back, I promise.”

Brody rode Hannah’s pedal bike into town, glad no one could see him on the pink emasculator—at least it didn’t have a bell. He had a vague idea about who might own a motorcycle and headed straight for Joe Franton’s home with its large two-car garage. Brody remembered Joe swaggering into the diner one day, bragging about the sweet deal he got on a Harley.

Bingo!

The garage door swung open with a noisy
creak.
Just in case it brought visitors, Brody had his gun gripped in one hand, bat in the other. It seemed he wasn’t going to be on any zombie menu today.

And his luck held. Covered by a tarp, which he whisked off with a flourish, he found a motorcycle and not just any bike: a Harley Ultra Classic. The ultimate guy boner bike.

With reverence, Brody ran his hand over the fat tank and shook his head at the bells and whistles. On-board GPS, built-in speakers, an oversized seat for the driver, and the just as comfortable one for a passenger, replete with arm and backrests.
Like riding a couch.

Brody couldn’t help grinning. While he loved his Harley Sportster, the Ultra Classic was a motorcycle made for two, and he knew just the person to sit behind him.
Holding tight and breathing sweet nothings in my ear.

Grabbing a gas jug, he jogged down the road to the gas station, only to find the pumps dry. Hannah hadn’t been kidding when she said she emptied the place. Generators were fuel pigs. Luckily, Brody had learned a trick or two on his cross-country trip. He quickly found a length of hose that he used to siphon the derelict cars that littered the town. Pouring the gas into the tank, and having to fight off only shambling zombies who, at best, had only weeks to survive, Brody then faced a new dilemma.

Keys?

Bracing himself, he entered the tomblike home, almost sneezing as dust motes floated in the air. Luck on his side, Brody found the bike keys on a pegboard, along with others. On the way out, he noticed a framed image of Joe, straddling the very same motorcycle in his garage, a big grin on his face. He felt a moment’s pang for Joe who hadn’t gotten to enjoy much of a retirement.

So many people had found their lives cut short, and even now the world was not a safe place, something he should have stressed more to Beth. But, given her headstrong, spoiled nature, he doubted it would have had an impact.

The bike, of course, didn’t start when he turned the key, the battery long dead. Wheeling it out into the sunshine, Brody rolled it a few blocks to the one decently sloped incline in town. He pedaled the ground with his feet, Flintstone style. When the bike gained some forward momentum, he pulled in the clutch and popped it into second.

With a coughing stutter, the engine roared to life, and Brody cranked the throttle, clearing dust from its workings. The growling sound of the bike brought a shambling zombie out of hiding. It lurched to the road, and Brody, having done this more than once on his trek across the country, drew his gun and fired.

Another one down, but where the hell were they coming from? Why here? Why now?

The roar of the motorcycle’s engine brought Hannah running out of the house. He couldn’t help the tightness in his chest, and a swelling of his groin, at her appearance. He loved her so much, even with her tear-streaked face.

“I’ve packed some food and clothes,” she said, gesturing to some bundles piled on the porch.

“You should go with him,” said Fred as he wheeled out onto the porch, joining them.

“Go?” Hannah’s face creased in puzzlement. “I can’t go. I’ve got to stay and take care of you.”

A moue of annoyance creased Fred’s face. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, girl, I’ve been taking care of myself a lot longer than you have. Go with him. Find your fool sister and that Amish village. I can take care of myself for a week or so. Besides, if you stay here, you’ll just drive me nuts with your worrying.”

“Are you sure?”

Brody could see Hannah’s need to care for her uncle warred with that of finding her sister and keeping her safe.

“But what of the zombies we’ve seen roaming?”

Her uncle snorted. “Unless they’ve learned to pick locks and open doors, I figure I’m safe enough. I’ll just pick them off from an upstairs window. I actually wouldn’t mind a bit of excitement. I’d worry more about the pair of you and that idiot sister of yours. You’re the ones heading into the unknown and danger. You be careful.” His voice grew gruff, and Brody saw the bright gleam of moisture in his eyes before Hannah flew into his arms. She hugged the old man’s frail body, their love for each other so evident.

Even he didn’t remain unaffected—that or there was a lot of dust in the air. He sure as hell hoped they all came back. Fred would be all right for a few weeks on his own, but despite his assertion, Brody knew that any longer would prove a chore on the man.

“Let me just pack a few things.” Hannah bustled into the house.

Once he ascertained she was out of sight, Brody looked at Fred. “Are you sure about this, Fred?”

“Very. And not just because of Bethie. Hannah needs to see the world outside of this town. She needs to let go of the past and follow the future. Beth is right about one thing. This town is dead. If we’re going to rebuild, we need to be around people. This Amish village might be what Hannah needs, what we all need. A fresh start. If things look good, then come back and get me.”

“We’ll be back,” Brody promised.

“Of course you will.”

“I wish Hannah believed I was serious about staying.”

“She’ll come around. You hurt her when you left. But sometimes a man’s got to explore before he knows what he wants in life.”

“I want a life with Hannah.”

“And it will come. That girl’s suffered a lot of loss and had to deal with so many responsibilities. Soon she’ll realize she doesn’t have to shoulder the burden alone. But enough of this emotional crap. You’ve got protection I assume?”

For a second, Brody misunderstood and just about blushed, thinking Fred referred to condoms—an item that apparently had expiration dates, not that he wanted to use any. He couldn’t deny a part of him would love to see Hannah pregnant with his babe.

But Fred meant another kind of protection. “Always armed with backup. I’ve got the revolver I keep on me, spare ammo, and another pair of pistols.” Brody patted his saddlebags. “And then there’s no-brainer.” His nickname for his aluminum bat.

Fred snorted. “Ah to be young and stupid again. Hopefully you don’t run into any zombies close enough you need to whack some sense into them.”

They fell silent as Hannah came back out of the house, a knapsack dangling from her hand. Hannah kissed her uncle and admonished him not to overdo it—a speech during which Fred rolled his eyes and mouthed “women!” over her shoulder.

Instructions given, she approached Brody and held out her bag, which he stowed in a saddlebag.

Straddling the bike, he looked at her and waited, wondering if the lip she gnawed meant she’d changed her mind. With a creased face, she looked at her uncle then at the only home she’d ever known. He could see the trepidation on her face.

“I’ll bring you back, I swear,” Brody promised.

Taking a deep breath, she clambered behind him on the passenger pillion and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Let’s go find my sister,” she said bravely, but Brody could hear the worry and fear underlying her words.

With a roar, he sped off on the bike without looking back, unable to shake the feeling that nothing would be the same again.

Hannah clung to Brody as he weaved them a path down the debris-strewn road. Beth had hours on them, and as Hannah watched the streaming landscape, she really had to wonder if they’d find her. How could they know if Beth had gone in this direction? What if Beth veered from her course? Locating her could prove harder than searching for a needle in a haystack.

Brody’s assertion the roads weren’t car friendly was an understatement. He spent a lot of time slowing down to detour and weave around vehicles abandoned on the road, some of which still held the remains of occupants. In other spots, storms and the elements had downed power lines and trees.

Nature was reclaiming her space. How long before the remnants of civilization were once again pristine wilderness?

Will any of us be alive to see it?

Closing her eyes, Hannah leaned her head on Brody’s strong back. A sense of loss consumed her.
Why does it feel like I’ll never come home again?
Which was absurd. Even if by some miracle she decided to live elsewhere, she’d return to pack up Uncle Fred and some mementos of her past.

It didn’t matter what her head said though. Her heart remained steadfast in its belief. Hannah tried thinking of Beth instead, a subject that worried her even more than coming home.
Is she okay? What if she gets lost? Or runs into some zombies? Will I ever see her again? Oh please don’t let our last words to each other be angry ones.

A few hours from home, they entered the first decent-sized city on their route. Brody took them to the center of the city, a thing of dead neon signs, some of which hung drunkenly. Slowing, he stopped the bike by a gas station strewn with derelict cars.

“Let’s stretch our legs for a few minutes and eat something,” he said, getting off the bike and stretching his body.

Hannah followed suit, her cramped muscles protesting as she unfolded herself from the hunch she’d adopted on the bike. She couldn’t help but stare in morbid fascination at the buildings around her. It had been one thing to see her small town and other nearby ones deserted—lacking only tumbleweeds to mark them as ghost towns—and quite another to have towering skyscrapers and surprisingly intact storefronts lining the too-quiet street.

Hannah did a three-sixty, taking it all in. Nothing moved, a fact eerily compounded by the mournful whistle of a light breeze through the buildings.

“It’s like a tomb,” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice for surely ghosts—and probably more than a few zombies—hid in this haunted place. She expected the walking infected to come shambling out of this oversized tomb, their arms outstretched, moaning eerily. A shudder went through her.

“All the cities are like this,” Brody said, barely sparing a glance to the surroundings, his nonchalance comforting her somewhat. “At least the smell is gone. When the bodies began to outnumber the survivors, corpses were left where they died. For weeks while the virus finished running its course, you couldn’t come near the major centers. The stench and the flies were just too much. I’ve heard a few survivors say that the buzzing of their wings was what almost put them over the edge.” His words gave her goose bumps, and she rubbed her arms. She still remembered the smell and sound of death.

“So where did you hide while this happened?”

“A friend of mine had a cottage. When shit really got bad, we headed to it with as many supplies as we could load into his truck.”

“Your friend?”

Brody shook his head. “I stayed there for a while, venturing out every other week to see if things had changed. But…” He shrugged. “After a while I realized things weren’t going to get better and I got lonely out there by myself.”

He got lonely and had come back to the place he missed most, fate bringing them together. A concept she wasn’t ready to accept quite yet—but she was getting closer.

“Are all the cities like this? So empty? Does nobody live here? No survivors at all?”

“Would you?” he said, looking at her with shadowed eyes. “I’ve yet to meet anyone who elected to stay in the cities. Too many hideouts for the zombies. Too many bodies to clear. There’s not enough green space to sustain more than a person. Those who are serious about surviving have moved outside into the farming areas, where they can live off the land.”

“Like us.”

“Not quite. Most have banded with other families, finding there’s more protection in groups, not to mention the need for socialization.”

Hannah pursed her lips, sensing the rebuke even if he didn’t voice it. It wasn’t her fault no one else had survived in her area. But then again, she’d done nothing to seek anyone out. Beth had been right when she said Hannah was content with things the way they were. Familiarity was Hannah’s companion, but she was beginning to realize that perhaps to truly survive they needed something more than just food and other supplies.

“How do they find each other?”

“By accident for the most part. People are constantly foraging. They have to before nature claims these places back. Sometimes when they go gathering they come across others doing the same thing. I’m surprised that’s never happened to you. I’ve seen your stockpile of goods.”

Funny how his words about nature reminded her of her own thoughts. She’d noticed that even in this place of concrete and asphalt, scrubby plants tried to creep through the cracks in the pavement, straggly vegetation doing battle with a concrete jungle. Like humans, these weeds were determined to survive.

I want to live too.
Live more than just day to day, doing chores.

“Oh, Brody.” Hannah’s eyes flooded with tears. She’d spent the past year and months playing the role of strong family leader, never stepping out of her secular world. And now that she had, she realized just how bad things were. The bubble she’d inhabited for so long suddenly burst, and sorrow overwhelmed her. “It’s gone. Everything. It’s gone, and it isn’t coming back.”

Sinewy arms wrapped around her and held her tight. Brody rocked her in his embrace, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head and supporting her as she sobbed.

She didn’t know how long they stood there while she cried for everyone who had died. While she cried for the dreams that were lost. She also cried knowing her sister, the little girl she’d helped raise, was alone in this terribly dead world. And finally she cried because she realized Brody was her last chance at having love and a family. If he left, there was nothing and nobody to fall back on. She’d truly spend eternity alone.

Eventually her tears subsided to hiccups, and moving out of Brody’s embrace, she scrubbed at her red eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice and eyes laced with concern.

Hannah nodded, not trusting herself to speak without breaking into sobs again.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to find a place to camp here for the night, or would you prefer to get out of here?”

Hannah answered that instantly. “Anywhere but here, please.” She didn’t want to sleep surrounded by this monument to humanity’s follies and death.

With a nod, Brody got on the bike. Hannah took a step toward him and stopped dead, suddenly struck by the image. Like some kind of apocalypse cowboy, he straddled his steel horse with his weathered leather jacket, snug jeans, and windblown hair. The only thing missing was his wide-brimmed hat. He’d stashed it because of the wind.

His gaze held hers, and she could see the love shining in his eyes. She almost cried again.

I love you, Brody.

Perhaps one day soon, she’d say the words aloud.

They left the oversized graveyard, the miles flying by but never far enough to make her forget.

Twilight arrived, and Hannah clutched Brody tightly, as the diminishing light made the drive even more treacherous. Finally, he pulled into a roadside motel and stopped the bike.

“Stay here for a second. And if it moves, shoot.” The heavy gun he handed her wasn’t the most ringing endorsement when it came to safety. She peered at the shadows with her heart racing. She’d never ventured out after dark before. She’d always made sure she and her little family were tucked into the farmhouse, doors locked and shades drawn.

She didn’t have to kill anything in the minutes it took him to reach the motel office and return—although there was a squirrel whose sudden scamper across the pavement almost cost it its life.

Dangling a set of keys, Brody tried the doors of units with no cars parked out front. He went into two and quickly exited before entering a third and signaling her.

“Why don’t you go in the bathroom and see if there’s any water still running? If we’re lucky they’re on a gravity well. I’ll bring some food and stuff in.”

Too exhausted to argue and her ass sore from a day spent riding, she went into the motel room and found it dusty but intact. Wandering into the bathroom, she turned on the tap, and after sputtering brown for a few minutes, the water ran clear, if cold.

Using the washcloth she found on the shelf above the toilet, she cleaned herself up, the abrasive, wet cloth wiping much of her road filth and fatigue away.

When she exited the bathroom, she found Brody stripping the top cover off the bed.

“What are you doing with the sheets?”

“I’m going to shake it out so we’re not hacking up dust balls all night.”

Ever thoughtful. How could she not love him? Hannah opened the knapsack he’d brought in and pulled out food, a meal he supplemented by raiding the vending machine in the motel office.

Chips, canned ravioli, and soda pop. A veritable feast.

They ate in silence and almost darkness. When finished, as if by mutual accord, they stood, and without a word, she found herself in his arms.

After the deadness she’d seen this day, Hannah needed to feel. Taste. Remember that they were both alive.

With frantic fingers, she attacked his clothes, and in moments, they were naked and falling onto the musty sheets. His heavy body covered hers, the hot, hard length of his cock nudging her sex.

She threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him close to kiss. Her tongue curled and danced around his.

She broke off the kiss and panted, “Lie on your back.”

Brody obeyed. Hannah knelt between his legs, the darkness forcing her to feel her way around his body. He gasped as her hands skimmed his thighs and cupped his heavy sac. Having discovered her goal, she leaned forward and found his shaft with her mouth, the tip moist. She licked it, tasting the saltiness of his excitement. Bathing his cock with her tongue, she explored all of him before she took him into her mouth to suck him. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him. His head would alternate between going back with his eyes shut and facial muscles taut, to looking down at her with a smoky gaze that promised reciprocation.

Hannah shuddered, her pussy damp with the thought of what he liked to do to her with his tongue, that weapon of mass orgasm. She bobbed up and down on his hard length while her hand fondled his balls, squeezing and kneading them until they grew tight.

He groaned. “Kitten, I’m gonna lose it.”

With a final suck, she let go of his cock and by feel again moved herself in position to straddle him. His hands helped guide her, and when she felt his swollen head poking at her nether lips, she sat down.

Impaled on his thick length, she finally gasped and threw her head back, not moving for a second, just enjoying the feel of him inside her. Leaning forward to brace her hands on his chest, she rocked, each motion sending a jolt of pleasure through her, bringing her closer and closer to ecstasy.

But Brody had no intention of letting her come that quickly.

Before she knew it, Hannah found herself flat on her back, the cock in her cunt replaced by his tongue. His hands holding her thighs wide, he licked her, spreading her wet folds and lapping at her core. Finding her clit, he flicked it with his tongue and sucked it, driving Hannah wild. Arching on the bed, she clawed at the sheets.

Incoherent at the torture he inflicted, all she could manage to say was “oh” as he brought her to the brink and then stopped ’til she calmed enough so he could start again with his torturous tongue.

When Hannah thought she would die, he finally slid into her. The fullness of his throbbing cock inside her, she came with a loud scream. Her pussy trembled around him as he drove himself in and out, each thrust hitting her G-spot and making her orgasm go on and on. Hannah moaned, her body boneless and shuddering under him. And still he moved her, driving his penis into her over and over until finally he went rigid and shouted her name, his cock spurting hotly inside her.

He collapsed on her, his heavy weight so welcome. They clutched each other tightly, and she at least, found herself emotionally overwhelmed.

“I love you,” Hannah said, suddenly deciding it was stupid to deny it.

“And I never stopped loving you,” he said, softly rolling to his side and snuggling her into the crook of his arm.

Hannah knew she shouldn’t, not after the moment they’d just shared, but she finally had to ask, “If you loved me, why did you leave in the first place, and why did it take you so long to come back?”