Bowie V. Ibarra (15 page)

“Yes sir,” said George and Misty in unison. They understood quite well the importance of the last rule.

“While you are our guests here, you are invited to shop around the old Mercado near the room you two will be staying in for the night. We serve meals in here twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the early evening. You can snack on what you like throughout the day.”

Misty commented, “Must have lots of food left in this restaurant.”

“A lot indeed,” replied Alphonso. “After tonight, you are welcome to stay, or we can help you get wherever you need to go. Sound good?”

George said, “Thank you, Mister…?”

“Please, call me Alphonso,” replied the man cordially.

“Alphonso. Thanks.” George shook his hand.

“Thank you,” said Misty, offering her hand as well.

Alphonso pulled her a bit closer. “And if there is anything you… two… need, just ask.” Alphonso looked Misty in the eyes. Though she was nervous at the pass, she smiled.

“Follow me, guys,” said Abe.

The room was at the top of a set of stairs in the Mercado area. It was a simple room with a small dresser and a large bed. The sheets weren’t silk, but definitely a high thread count. The pillows were stuffed with feathers.

They stored their gear in the room and went to the showers.

The shower facility was nothing more than a room near the garage and consisted of a water hose over a large bucket. The hose came in through the window from the inner plaza area of the Mercado where there was a faucet. George grabbed his bar of soap and called for Misty to turn on the water. The water was cold, but refreshing. Misty giggled as she heard George shiver out loud. She walked around and stood by the door to the makeshift washroom.

“How’s the wash?” she asked.

“It’s great, but damn cold!” George replied, turning toward the door. “Don’t come in.”

“Didn’t know you were so shy, Mr. Man.” Misty giggled. She peeked through the door and looked at George.

Before she could take him all in, George called out, “Okay, turn it off.”

Misty ran around and turned off the hose.

“My turn,” she called out.

As the traumatic day wore on, it was obvious Misty had relaxed a bit. Though the image of the massacre was not even close to being out of her mind, it was at least in the back of it. She was feeling a little better, if only for the time being.

George sat by the faucet, in fresh clothes, outside the washroom and looked around the place.

The plaza area was secured with a crude, yet effective, barrier of wooden pallets, pipes, table parts and chairs on all four entrances. Primitive deterrents were along the tops of the barriers, from rusty barbed wire to broken beer bottles and glass. A brief investigation revealed that all the windows leading to the exterior had been boarded up with the same materials. It seemed effective. The base, as Abe referred to it, consisted of four large buildings. One was Mi Destino, the restaurant where everyone ate and drank. The building immediately adjacent to the restaurant was a two story building filled with different shops. Some sold art work. Most were clothes and souvenir shops.

This is where George found some clothes: A tan ‘Remember the Alamo’ shirt and a pair of jeans.

Across the plaza were the main Mercado stores, consisting of both buildings with a hallway connecting the two. Both buildings were filled with small shops with all sorts of Mexican imports and knick-knacks.

Not a bad prize for these people, George thought as he looked around.

Several of the Mercado folks said hello as they passed by. There had to be close to thirty people in the group, including George and Misty. Most were well armed and seemed healthy. There had to be enough food in here to last for over a month, easily.

But there was something funny about the Mercado people that George discovered during his informal investigation. In all the areas that the Mercado people were congregating in, they were smoking. It was obviously pot. Some of the groups of people George came across were also snorting cocaine. It was beginning to look like a drug camp to George.

George returned to the faucet.

“George!” called Misty. “I got my clothes, but I forgot my towel. Could you get me one? I left it by the door.”

The command took George by surprise. “Why don’t you get it yourself?”

“Please?” she sighed. “Come give it to me.”

George knew she was asking for the towel, but the coquettish way she said it made him think of something else. “I’ll be right there.”

George ran around, saw the towel on the ground, picked it up, and knocked on the wash room door.

“I got it,” said George through the door. A person from the Mercado George hadn’t met yet passed him. The guy smiled, so George smiled back, a bit nervous at the obvious situation.

“Well, come give it to me. I need it.”

The words shook George to the bone again. His heart fluttered a bit. “Well, cover up, girl,” he said as he walked into the room, trying to be polite.

She was crouching in the tub, modestly covering her cleavage. She had moved the hose away from the tub and it was spilling onto the floor. The natural clapping of water on stone echoed around the room.

“That’s a waste of water there, young lady.”

“Oh, just give me my towel,” she said.

George, modestly turning his face away from her washed and naked body, handed it to her.

She took the towel from his hand and told him, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” said George as he began to walk back toward the door.

“Hold on,” said Misty.

George stopped and waited a moment. He asked, “Can I turn yet?”

Briefly wiping her body down, the water still resounding around the empty room, she wrapped the towel around her. “Come here for a second,” she said.

George walked toward her. Their eyes met, though it was hard for George to ignore the cleavage of her supple breasts pressed against the towel or her shapely legs below it.

She took his hand and softly told him, “George, I want to thank you for saving my life today. I think I’m going to be a mess for a while now, in my head, you know? But I want to thank you for your bravery and for helping me today.”

George was surprised, but proud at the simple accolade. “Just at the right place at the right time, I guess,” he replied.

She pulled him closer. His breathing adjusted to the beating of his heart. “Meet me in our room,” she whispered. She gracefully leaned forward and shared a slow, arousing, and meaningful kiss with George. The room was silent, apart from the splashing water of the hose beside them.

Their lips parted.

George stood stunned.

“Well, go back to the room now. I need to clean up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied George with a smile. He walked to the door, opened it, then briefly took one last look at Misty. She was looking back at him.

“Go on, now. I’ll be right there. Don‘t forget to turn off the water!”

“Right!”

George turned off the water, then walked to the room. Feeling fresh after the shower, he walked to the bed, sat, leaned over and laid down, his face against the pillow, and waited for Misty.

Misty was naked.

Her breasts hung perfectly on her chest, rising and falling to her breathing. George wanted to touch her pink nipples with his mouth. She was wearing a set of white heels that accentuated her nice legs.

George chased her up a set of stairs into a room. He moved through the sheets that hung over the door. After struggling with several sheets, he entered the room. Misty was leaning on one elbow on the bed and beckoning George with the other.

George was in her arms, on top of her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He could feel the warmth of her body. His clothes were off. He was inside her and their bodies were moving together in rhythm.

They were outside. George was behind Misty, gripping her hips and sharing himself on top of the bed. It was on a stone pedestal. She was moaning and calling his name. He reached down and gripped her breasts, continuing the motion. They felt wonderful in his hands.

A dark haired woman entered the area, naked but for a pair of high heeled black shoes. She walked toward the couple, mounted the bed, and stood on her knees beside George and began to kiss his lips as he continued to work on Misty. George kept one hand on Misty’s hip while the other reached for one of the woman’s breasts. He could feel her tongue.

She was kissing Misty on the lips. Misty was in front of the woman, kneeling, kissing her lips and her breasts. George was under the woman, who was sitting facing away from George.

“Hurry,” a voice called out.

George looked around, but saw nothing but countryside and sun.

George looked up. Misty was on top of him, facing him. George reached for her breasts again. They were perfect. He began to kiss them and stroke them with his tongue.

“Please hurry,” a voice called out.

George looked around.

The sun was shining over rows of tombstones.

Misty was still on top of him. The woman knelt beside Misty and was kissing her, fondling her breasts and kissing them.

“Please hurry,” the voice called out.

George looked around.

Dirt began to gather around certain areas of the tombstones, right above the area where the bodies were buried.

Misty was on her back with her legs spread. The woman was standing bent over the bed, her face working eagerly in Misty’s crotch. George was behind her, looking into Misty’s eyes. The women were moaning.

“Please,” said the voice.

George looked around.

Zombies were rising from the graves all around them. They began to advance toward them.

George began to feel sad. He felt the voice, but couldn’t recognize it.

Tears were flowing down his face.

Misty’s legs were on his shoulders. He was gripping her at the crook of her hips and upper thigh. She was screaming, but George couldn’t figure out if it was a good or bad scream. George began to kiss her feet, ankles, and legs as he began to cry, more of a whimper. The woman was behind him, caressing his chest and kissing his neck. She was watching Misty.

“Please stop, George. You’ll be too late,” pleaded the voice.

George looked around.

The zombies were climbing up toward their pedestal.

George pulled out of Misty and released on her breasts and stomach. He was still crying. Misty began to giggle. The dark haired woman in the black shoes took George’s sensitive area into her mouth.

“Please don’t be too late,” said the voice. “Please don’t be too late.”

George looked around.

The zombies had made it to them.

The woman looked up at George, playing with his manhood, tapping it against her lips, then disappeared.

Misty was lying on the bed. Cuddled up and asleep. She was smiling and seemed at peace. The creatures overtook the bed.

George stood alone.

Naked.

The creatures surrounded him, moments away from devouring him.

He looked to the sky.

An eye was in the sky above him. It shed a tear on a cloud.

“Please don’t fail… Please don’t fail… Please don’t…”

“George?” called Misty.

George shook from his sleep and gasped.

Misty jumped. “Oh, my. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, wiping his eyes, removing the tears.

“So, what do you think?” Misty asked, striking a model pose.

George pulled himself together and -as not to draw any more attention to how he looked and felt -gazed upon Misty.

She had on a dark denim miniskirt with a large leather belt. She wore a long sleeved red mock turtleneck with the shoulders cut out as well as a generous area missing around her waist, revealing her toned stomach and belly button ring. She had silver hoop earrings and white heels with short white laced socks.

“Wow,” George mouthed. “You look hot!”

“Thanks,” Misty replied.

“But,” said George, plaintively, “You’re going to wear that around here -with all these guys around?”

“Oh, there’s some girls, too!”

“Maybe, but still. The rules of the old world don’t necessarily apply here.”

“Oh, but its so cuuuute,” she said, making pouty eyes.

“I know, but…”

She came forward and crawled on the bed toward George.

Oh my god, thought George, who was still reclining a bit on the bed.

Misty knowingly put her hand on George’s upper thigh near his genitals. She came near, face to face with him. She tauntingly whispered, “Please…”

George wanted to kiss her again, but the dream was still creeping him out. He stuttered, “Maybe you should-”

Before he could finish, she began kissing him. Her hand was slowly working its way to the area of his pants above his crotch. Soon she found his hard part and began to stroke it through his clothing.

She then pulled away from George and let go entirely.

George sighed and said, “Okay, you can wear that shopping with me, but then change out at dinner tonight.”

“Alright!” said Misty with excitement.

“You can put it back on after dinner, if you’d like.”

“Oh, you,” said Misty with a smile, as they headed down the stairs into the Mercado area.

“Where’d you get those clothes anyway?” asked George.

“Alphonso,” Misty replied with groan. “He found me as I came out of the shower room. He just offered to show me some clothes. He was acting creepy, but the clothes were nice, so I let him get away with it. Still, it’s weird that he went through all the trouble of picking out an entire wardrobe for me.”

“You know,” said George, growing even more distressed that he couldn’t recall something he felt he should, “I’ve never met the guy, but somehow I can’t shake the thought that I do know him somehow.”