Page 3

THREE

CIPHER

I dragged him by the hand, both of us naked, into our bedroom where we collapsed onto his tiny twin bed like wet puppies and kissed each other stupid, until we were both hot and sweaty and he was squirming underneath me, impatient as ever. “Cipher, come on,” he begged while gripping me to him. I loved the little pleading noises he made, how his hair fell wild and messy against the pillow, the scent of his arousal clinging to the air.

“I’m here, babe. You gonna let me in?” My lubed cock was notched at his entrance. I’d loosened him already with my fingers, but he was still tight as fuck.

“Yeah, I am,” he murmured, his voice already blissed-out and dreamy.

“Remember to breathe,” I reminded him because he tended to tense up during this part, and I didn’t want him to have an asthma attack.

“Mmm… I am breathing.”

I applied more pressure, going slow even though all I wanted was to be balls-deep inside of him. Kitten sighed, then grunted as I finally pushed the tip of my cock past his clenching muscle. I braced myself on my elbows and knees, waiting for him to relax so he could take more. I kissed his forehead and buried my nose in his hair. God, he felt so damn good.

“Still with me?” I asked.

“Yeah, right here,” he said with a big, dopey smile.

In another world, where we didn’t have chores and watchtower shifts and five nosy roommates and the ever-present threat of a Rabid attack, Kitten and I would fuck all day long. It’d be slow and drawn out and involve a lot of foreplay and probably food too. He was a sensual person, someone who could spend hours in bed, and I liked edging him til he was a blubbering mess, then watching him come undone on my cock.

“You good?” I asked, nosing along his jaw.

“Yeah, so good. Fill me up, tough guy, I’m ready.”

I pushed forward just a little and his muscle pulsed around me, tightening around my cock like a fist. “Your asshole is like a bear trap,” I told him.

He chuckled. “Because it’s been so long.”

“It’s been a week.”

“Mmm hmm, like I said.”

“I can’t believe you’re back-talking me while taking my dick.”

“Shut me up then.”

I couldn’t help but kiss his smart mouth. My tongue pushed past his lips as my cock edged its way inside him, easing in, backing out, following his cues, the way he dug his heels into my back, every little shift and moan he made, until at last–hours later, it seemed–I was fully seated inside him. For the moment, I was complete. No worries, no complaints, no bitterness. There was no feeling in the world better than this one.

“So nice,” he murmured. “So full.”

“You like that?” I asked as I brushed a curl from his forehead.

“Yeah, love it.”

“I love you.”

“Me too.”

His head lolled around on the pillow, his neck just as gorgeous as the rest of him. He rocked his hips as an indication for me to get moving, so I grabbed one of his legs and hooked it over my shoulder. His thighs were nice and thick thanks to all the squats he’d been doing during his workouts with Macon. I may have lingered in the garage next door once or twice to admire his form. And I liked the extra meat on his bones. Made me feel like I was doing my job in keeping him healthy and well-fed. He began reaching for his dick straight away, so I grabbed his wrist and held it against the mattress.

“Not yet. Remember what happened last time?”

He let out a huff of laughter. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, but you did, so this time you have to wait until I tell you.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, settling back against the pillow with both arms behind his head. My pillow princess. He gave me a coy smile. “I’m waiting, boss.”

“You’re such a pest,” I muttered and kissed his nose. I had him in the perfect position to really stroke in deep, so I focused on that, slow and steady, maintaining my control while building a rhythm. I loved everything about this, that perfect slide of flesh, the tight squeeze of his muscles, the way he clung to me a little more on every stroke, not wanting me to leave the clutch of his body but trusting me to take him to a spectacular finish. I liked to be needed, especially by him; loving him gave me purpose.

Kitten’s noises escalated, louder and more urgent with every thrust. I needed another hand to put over his mouth because he was starting to get loud. I kissed him instead, swallowing up his moans and making them my own. Fuck, he fit me so well. Like my Glock in the palm of my hand. I was invincible when fucking him, both of us high from it, losing all inhibitions and giving over to our baser instincts. He made me forget the chaos of the world, my paranoia, and the limitations of my body. As the heat and friction of our bodies steadily climbed and a mounting pleasure overwhelmed all rational thought, I felt like a fucking champion, a thoroughbred race horse barrelling toward the finish line.

“Cipher,” he said in his begging voice.

“Not yet,” I warned, backing off so I wasn’t tagging his special spot quite so well.

“No, go back to where you were,” he demanded.

“Wait for it,” I said. I folded him up like a fortune cookie and stroked impossibly deep, making him grunt and groan from the impact. “Keep it down now or I’m going to stuff my dirty drawers in your mouth.”

He smiled as if liking the idea, and I picked up the pace, switching angles, plunging deep on every stroke to give it to him just the way he wanted.

“Now?” he asked, his hand reaching for his dick again.

“Yes, now.”

His hand shot to his cock and he started pumping furiously. I was right at the edge, waiting for him to catch up. His bottom lip was plump as a ripe berry so I sucked it, grunting into his mouth as I let myself off the leash, fucking into him like an animal until all I could see was smoke and fire. My skin was ablaze in an explosion of heat and lust as I imagined guns blasting and bombs detonating. I found my peak, shuddering from the impact. With a deliciously deep moan, Kitten clenched around me and arched back, his thick cock spurting cum in long, white ropes. Some of his warm jizz landed on my stomach, and I pressed myself against him, capturing it between us. His perfect ass milked me, drawing out the last tremors of pleasure as I faded away for a few blissful moments. I stayed inside him for as long as I could, savoring his warmth and softness. If I had my way, I’d never leave.

“Cipher,” he purred.

“Yeah, baby?” I was still a little shaky, my muscles protesting any movement.

“I feel so good.”

“Same here. Fucking fantastic.”

My cock slipped out of him, but I remained locked up tight in his arms. Sticky with cum and sweat I’d resolved not to move for at least five minutes. He wrapped one strong leg around my thighs in a wrestling move his brother taught him, just in case I changed my mind about getting up.

“Mine,” he grunted like a caveman and nipped at my ear lobe. “You did me so good. I like it when you start slow and then go off. Like the way you hammer nails, just pounding away at my guts. I can feel it in my lungs. I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Told you.”

“But if the Rabids get us, this is how I want to remember our last time together.”

I chuckled. “Morbid thoughts for such a sunny boy, Kitten. Rabids aren’t going to get us, not when you have me around to protect you. But I agree that this is a nice memory for the spank bank.”

“You should spank me instead of your dick,” he said with a little pout in his voice.

“Keep it up and I just might.”

His dick twitched against my stomach. Maybe when we moved into the master, I could add some soundproofing to the walls and really give him what he wanted. Spanking his ass would probably be therapeutic for us both.

“How was I?” Kitten asked because he liked compliments.

“You made me feel so good. I thought my dick was going to explode.”

“What do you think about when you’re coming?”

My uncensored thoughts trended toward violence. “Explosions mostly. Gunfire and bombs. How about you?”

“Water. Like a wave or a waterfall.”

“Sounds peaceful,” I said. “Sometimes when we’re fucking like that, I totally forget who I am. All I can think about is how good you feel, how good you make me feel.”

“Yeah me too. No thoughts at all. You need to top me more often.”

“I’m that good?” I asked.

“The best,” he said with a happy sigh.

“Not to be a dick about it, but you don’t have a ton of people to compare.”

He smiled and batted his pretty eyes at me. “I don’t need to eat a can of dog food to recognize a filet mignon.”

I shook my head and kissed him. “You are really good for my self-esteem.”

“Yeah, but I have eaten dog food before.”

“Haven’t we all?” I said with a rueful laugh.

“Anyway I meant it. You’re good at your job. Maybe one day you’ll let me try topping you?”

I blinked and stared at him, a little shocked and a lot speechless. His careful gaze posed the question. What might it take for me to let my guard down long enough to let him inside me?

“I’d be gentle,” he said at my prolonged silence.

“I know you would. It’s more of a mind thing than a physical thing.”

“I’d only want to do it if you felt safe.”

I nodded and kissed his nose, appreciating that he understood without me having to spell it out for him. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m going to get a washcloth and clean us up. Then you can rub my back until I fall asleep.” He hopped out of bed, holding his ass cheeks together with one hand as he ducked into the bathroom. Naked, gorgeous, and all mine. How did I get so lucky?

But in his brief absence, doubt set in. We’d always done it this way because that was my preference, but maybe he’d like it more if our roles were reversed? I’d like to at least try bottoming for him, but what would it take for me to relax and open up like that?

Alcohol, lots of it.

Little Miss Purrfect was scratching at the door, her bedtime ritual. “I’m coming, Little Miss,” Kitten called, then went to greet her royal highness with a dramatic sweep of his arm. She meowed petulantly and jumped onto our (tiny) bed where she kneaded her claws through the blanket into both my ankles before settling down on top of my feet. Most nights, I slept with my prosthesis, just in case shit went down. Kitten was good about making me take it off from time to time and massaging my leg for me. He was a caretaker, through and through.

“Make room,” Kitten said to me, then laid himself mostly on top of me and directed me exactly where he wanted his back to be rubbed. Soon enough, I heard the sounds of him snoring softly along with LMP’s purring. Bedtime orgasms always knocked him right the fuck out. Sleep wouldn’t come to me for a while, but I had a warm boy in my arms and a pleasant afterglow to enjoy. I glanced up at Zac’s knowing smile and gave him a fist bump.

Yeah, life could be a lot worse.

I managed to get a few solid hours of sleep that night and awoke to a groggy but amorous Kitten. After draining his pipes once more (this time with my mouth) we got up, washed off, and readied ourselves for the big day ahead.

Shortly after dawn we were ready to go with water and snacks in our scavenging packs along with whatever weapons we could carry. The dirt bike was a hell of a lot faster than walking, even faster than bicycling, and it handled the pothole-riddled roads pretty well. The bike was narrow enough to weave around vegetation and abandoned cars. Even better, being battery-powered meant that it was quiet. Stealth. The seat was a tight fit for the two of us, but we made it work, and I liked having Kitten behind me to act as scout. We’d left the rifles at basecamp, but Kitten had my Glock and knew how to use it. Hopefully we’d be in and out without encountering any raiders or Rabids, my perpetual prayer to the universe.

Our plan was to first locate the United Forces base and do some reconnaissance, then scavenge at one of the stores we’d passed along the way. I had a map with me, and I pooled our combined intel to determine three locations where I thought the military might have its headquarters. The first two were duds, but the third appeared occupied and functioning. We pulled off the road and navigated the bike into a bunch of trees on a nearby hill where we could get a better look.

The former industrial plant with the name of StarChem spanned about thirty acres and contained several windowless warehouses behind chain-link fencing that was topped with barbed wire–the real kind, not my homemade shit. The roofs of the buildings appeared to have skylights installed, useful for navigating indoors without electricity. There were two sentry turrets on either end of the property, manned by armed guards, and several drones circling the property’s perimeter. I couldn’t tell whether the drones had picked up on our activity, but I told Kitten to move as little as possible in case they had motion detectors. I was tempted to snag a couple of those for ourselves.

“They have cattle and goats,” Kitten said, nodding with his binoculars toward the distant fields where I could just make out livestock dotting the open pasture. “Bet they have milking cows too,” he said with longing. Where I fantasized about forests without Rabids lurking around every corner, Kitten fantasized about butter and cheese.

“Too dangerous,” I reminded him, though I might consider coming back some other time and relieving them of a few of their goats. Those we could easily fit inside the compound. Then Kitten could make all the butter, cheese, and soap his little heart desired. But we’d need a better plan for that type of mission and a way to transport them home.

A troop of cadets were practicing drills in a concrete yard while a sargeant barked orders. Many of the recruits were single and double amputees, which used to disqualify you from service, but beggars can’t be choosy. Kitten passed me a crabapple from his satchel and took a bite of one himself. They were better when cooked, but I’d gotten used to their lip-puckering tartness.

“Wonder what they do all day inside there,” Kitten said while munching on his apple.

“Considering this used to be a chemical plant, they’re probably set up for biological testing.”

“On Rabids?” he asked, looking ill.

I shrugged. “Rabids, animals, people. Everyone’s trying to find a cure. Field bases probably get better samples from the general Rabid population than the cities.”

“That’s what the cage was for,” Kitten said, his voice dropping an octave. “Jeremiah said he’d let them turn me into a Rabid and sell me to the labs if I didn’t do what he wanted.”

Kitten hadn’t told me all that had happened to him while in captivity. His trauma trickled out little by little, whenever something reminded him of that sleazeball Jeremiah. Rage simmered through me, prickling my skin and making my dominant hand flex. My fingernails bit into the apple skin. If only I could kill that bastard twice.

“That motherfucker is dead as a doornail, so we don’t have to worry about him doing that shit to anyone anymore,” I told him. Saying it aloud was just as much a reassurance to myself as it was for him.

“Yeah, but there are others out there who would,” Kitten said.

“You’re probably right.” The world was at times a cruel, vicious place. I could only worry about keeping my family safe from the monsters. Everyone else was on their own.

“I feel bad for the Rabids,” Kitten said, not for the first time. I didn’t completely disagree, but I had to maintain a mental divide. Our survival depended on it.

“We have to value our own lives above Rabids,” I reminded him. “And we have to defend ourselves against them if we want to survive. Us vs. them. No second-thoughts, no hesitations.” No compassion, I wanted to say, but that was Kitten’s most endearing quality and the one I worried about the most. He’d proven himself capable against Rabids and even Brother Larry, but in both those instances he’d been defending me, not himself. If he wavered even a little, he’d be dead.

“But who’s to say humans are any better than Rabids?” Kitten asked.

“Doesn’t matter if we’re better than them, sweetness. We’re human, so unless we want to join them…” The thought alone of losing Kitten to the Rabids was sending me into a doomsday spiral. “Listen, I’m really not the best person to debate the ethics of killing Rabids. My mentality is pretty black and white. You either fight or you die.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just hard sometimes. Especially seeing children who are Rabid. I don’t know if I could kill one of those.”

There’d been more of them lately outside our compound, their small fists clinging to the wrought iron bars of the gate, gnashing their teeth and whimpering with hunger. They looked and sounded like children, sort of. It used to be that children couldn’t survive the disease. The virus was mutating, which meant nothing good for us.

“You could see it as a mercy,” I told him. “They’re sick in their Rabid form, they’ve lost all sense of themselves. We’re helping to ease their pain and end their suffering.”

Like when I killed your mother, I thought with some bitterness. That would always be the story of how we met. Me, the unfeeling monster and Kitten, the newly made orphan. I tried not to think about it too much, but the guilt still nagged at me from time to time. I didn’t regret killing her. I only regretted that it was Kitten’s first impression of me.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said at last. “Thanks for listening. I feel better getting it out.”

“Anytime.” I handed the binoculars back to him. “Describe to me what you see. I’m going to sketch it out.”

I took out one of my hand-drawn maps and flipped it over to the blank side. I mapped out the base, doing my best to capture the buildings and fields to scale while Kitten narrated all that he could see in the distance, including how many livestock they kept and what weapons they carried. Later, I’d estimate how many people were housed there, what their inventory of weapons might be, along with any strengths and weaknesses they possessed. I didn’t know yet if they were friend or foe, but I wanted us to be prepared.

“All right, I think I’ve seen enough here,” I told him at last. “Let’s hit up that CVS we saw a couple miles back. Maybe they have an inhaler in the pharmacy.”

“And some liquor and candy,” Kitten added, always thinking of the others. “Maybe some batteries too.”

Batteries would be a godsend, but an inhaler was my main objective for the day. Everything else was a nice-to-have. If Kitten couldn’t breathe…

“Inhaler first,” I reminded him.

We mounted the dirt bike and backtracked a few miles to an abandoned strip mall that had a freestanding CVS in the parking lot. I preferred that to an attached building. I found a spot between two dumpsters to stash our bike, then led Kitten on a sweep of the exterior. I’d been training him and the others on safety protocol and situational awareness since we’d left Promised Land, and Kitten in particular had impressed me with his skills.

The concrete parking lot was cracked and full of weeds with the remains of civilization scattered about–nearly disintegrated boxes, empty wooden pallets, broken bottles, and abandoned cars. I looked for easy entry as well as any sign of Rabid activity. It’d been a while since I’d scavenged a commercial property. We mostly stuck to residences because they tended to be safer and better stocked, but finding an inhaler in somebody’s home would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

The back door was reinforced steel and locked from the inside. It’d take a while to chip away at it with my crowbar. At the front, the glass doors had been boarded up with plywood and spray painted with, “Closed for Business.” The advertisements plastered against the inside of the windows were faded and cobwebs stretched between the door frames, a good sign because it meant this place likely didn’t house any live Rabid nests and might still have something worth scavenging.

With the crowbar, I pried off the plywood, which revealed a shattered glass door behind it. I swept the door frame with the metal bar to get rid of any remaining shards, making more noise than I would have liked. We were both wearing combat boots, so I wasn’t too worried about getting cut by the broken glass that littered the ground.

“Watch where you step. And try to be quiet,” I said.

Kitten nodded and followed me inside, sweeping behind us with his gun in the ready position just as I’d taught him. The air inside was stale, filled with the scent of mildew and neglect. The shelves were mostly empty, many toppled over with their contents spilled across the floor. Broken bottles and half-crushed boxes of dry goods littered the aisles, their labels worn and faded. Whatever food and drink had been spilled appeared to have rotted and turned to dust. Like most places, there must have been a mad dash for supplies before it was boarded up and abandoned altogether.

“Let’s do a quick perimeter scan to make sure there are no unfriendlies and then we’ll head to the pharmacy,” I told Kitten. He nodded and we split up to scan the aisles, working from the outside in. No humans, no Rabids, no sign of anything living, not even a stray rat or raccoon. Eerily and suspiciously quiet, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I gave Kitten the all-clear, then noticed a couple bottles of liquor and stashed them into my bag for Macon. My gaze caught on an aisle of Halloween costumes, the most well-stocked section in the place, and I vaguely remembered it was around that time of year when the shit hit the fan. I was planning on dressing up as a Skull Trooper from Fortnite. Funny how priorities change.

“Kitten?” I called, noticing he was no longer in my sight lines.

“Over here,” he called back. I found him in the greeting card aisle, checking out the various holiday cards–birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, all those rites of passage we used to celebrate, now forgotten. He was tucking some of them into his bag, utterly useless and also completely priceless.

“Let’s head toward the back,” I said and nodded in that direction.

The pharmacy hadn’t fared much better than the rest of the store. Faded advertisements for flu shots and vitamins hung from the ceiling. Pill bottles, most of them empty, were scattered everywhere. The surveillance cameras were still mounted to the ceiling, pointed in our direction. I reached up with my crowbar and pried one from its mount, taking some of the plaster with it, then tucked it away in my canvas bag. If Gizmo and Wylie could get it working, we might be able to set up a CCTV system at the compound, a huge boon to our security.

“Where do you think they keep the inhalers?” Kitten asked as he searched the various bins and cubbies.

“Probably in a locked drawer. I’ll start busting them open and you keep looking.”

Most of the drawers and cabinets had already been forced open, but for any that weren’t, I used the crowbar to jimmy the locks. Meanwhile, Kitten was reading the label on every bottle he came across, trying to decipher their contents.

“Babe, just grab whatever you can and stick it in your bag. We can go through it all later,” I told him.

“I don’t want to take something that someone else might need more than us,” he said with a stubborn jut to his chin.

Sometimes I wished he was more selfish. I started looking alongside him, focused on finding an inhaler and nothing else. No pain pills, no stimulants either. I saw what may have been a hearing aid and stuffed it into my bag. There was a crunch of glass at the front entrance, alerting me to the fact that we were no longer alone.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered to Kitten. He shook his head, so I put my finger to my lips and climbed silently onto the counter to get a better view. I was scanning the front entrance for any sign of intruders when the first Rabid rounded the corner, a woman in a torn blouse and ripped pants with questionable stains on her clothing. Her jaw hung loosely from her skull as she let out a guttural snarl and lunged toward me with her arms outstretched. Her sudden burst of speed was alarming, and it took me another second to react. Swinging the crowbar like a golf club, I connected with the side of her skull with a sickening crunch.

On my other side, a Rabid leapt onto the counter, his eyes vacant but hungry. Before I could lift my crowbar again, Kitten had gotten between us, aimed the Glock at its forehead, and fired off a shot. He donkey-kicked the Rabid’s chest and toppled him off the counter. The body landed at a bad angle, its limbs twitching as a puddle of blood pooled underneath its skull.

“Where the fuck did they come from?” I asked, my heart racing, blood pounding in my ears like the thunderous roll of an ocean.

“I don’t know but there’s more coming.” Kitten pointed.

A fuck-ton more. The aisles were rapidly filling with lurching bodies, faster and more agile than I’d ever seen them move before. They swarmed the front entrance too. The only other exit was across the store down a hallway currently blocked by Rabids. They’d come for us in broad daylight, which they could never do before. We were supposed to be safe in the daytime. It was our one advantage against these goddamn motherfuckers, and we’d lost that too?

“Fuck me. What are we going to do?” I muttered. We were completely outnumbered, and I wasn’t sure the two of us could fight our way through this mob without one of us getting bit.

“The air vents,” Kitten said, pointing to a grate in the ceiling. “We just have to climb that metal shelving there.”

Easy for him to say. He had two fully functioning legs, but he was right that it might be our best shot at escape.

A Rabid grabbed hold of my prosthesis–the bastard had snuck up on me–and attempted to chomp down on my ankle, but it got a bite of the hard carbon fiber instead. I brought the crowbar down on its head to dislodge it, then used my machete to slit its throat.

“You go first,” I said to Kitten. “I’ll cover you.”

Kitten frog-jumped onto a metal kiosk and shot another Rabid point-blank in the skull. He was good with the gun, but he’d run out of ammo soon enough. I wasn’t nearly as agile as him, so I had to climb down from the counter to reach the metal shelving unit where he was already scrambling to the top.

“Cipher, come on,” he shouted as I swung my machete in a wide arc, slicing through the neck of another approaching Rabid. Its head snapped back, spraying my cheek with blood, before it collapsed against the shelving unit opposite us. I wiped my face with the back of my arm and raised my kerchief. Fucking gross.

“Cipher, duck!” Kitten said, and when I did, he popped off another two rounds, nailing the two Rabids behind me. My breath caught at the sheer number flooding the aisle on both sides, hissing and groaning as they closed in.

“Hurry up.” Kitten motioned toward the air vent. “We need to go, now!”

I charged ahead, using the crowbar to push them off me and swinging wildly with my machete as I cut a path to Kitten. I sheathed my machete but kept hold of the crowbar as I climbed the shelving unit. Something yanked on my good leg, and I was thrown to the ground. I landed on my arm badly as a Rabid leapt on my chest, foaming at the mouth, preparing to take a bite of my face. I reached for the knife at my hip and stabbed the Rabid in the throat while turning my head to avoid the spray of blood. I shoved the body off me as it twitched and spasmed in its death throes.

“Cipher,” Kitten shouted with desperation. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I said, though my arm definitely wasn’t. I picked up the crowbar I’d dropped in my fall. I was propelled by pure adrenaline as I scrambled to the top of the shelf, knocking a bunch of shit over in the process. Kitten had managed to unlatch the air vent and was hauling himself into the opening in the ceiling.

Another Rabid climbed the shelf opposite of where I stood and threw itself at me trying to knock me down. I stabbed at its face with my knife, burying the blade deep into one eye socket. The creature fell, its face a bloody mess, and took my knife with it.

“Damnit,” I muttered. That was my favorite knife.

“Grab hold of my arms,” Kitten called, reaching down with both hands. I handed him the crowbar which he threw somewhere inside the air shaft, then reached toward him with both hands, leaving the rest of my body open for an attack. He gripped my forearms and hauled me up with superhuman strength. Thank God he’d been working out because I was dead weight as he pulled me into the air vent. I ground my teeth to avoid screaming from the pain. My arm was definitely broken. I must have lost consciousness for a moment because when I came back, I was kneeling in the dusty aluminum enclosure and surveying the carnage below.

It was fucking chaos. Rabids were everywhere, the horde gathering underneath us, climbing on top of one another in an attempt to reach the ceiling, skeletal arms outstretched, bodies ravaged by the disease. They were a decayed and grotesque version of humanity, their bodies mottled with bruises and marked with necrosis, bits falling off. Several had bones jutting out where they shouldn’t, and a lot of them should be dead but miraculously weren’t. A few were on the smaller side too, which I tried not to think about.

Us vs. them. We’d be fucked if one of them managed to climb up here, so I replaced the air vent and jammed the crowbar between that and the steel bar above it. That should hold them off for a while. Kitten’s face was streaked with sweat and dirt as he panted for breath. I probably looked even worse.

“What now?” he asked, eyes wild.

“Let’s see if we can get to the roof.” This pathway must lead to an air handler, which likely vented to the building’s roof. I pulled out my new penlight and stuck the end of it in my mouth, then attempted to navigate the metal HVAC system in an army crawl with one good elbow while keeping weight off my injured arm. Kitten followed close behind while the shrieking and moaning of Rabids reverberated in our metal enclosure.

I fucking hated it.

“Why were they out in the daytime?” Kitten asked when we paused at a T-junction in the system. I had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing correctly. I couldn’t respond to his question because of the flashlight in my mouth, and I wasn’t sure what to say besides, so I only grunted.

I turned to the right and thankfully spotted what appeared to be a shaft of daylight towards the end of the tunnel. Closer, I noticed a grate that led to the outside. Thank fucking Christ. Enclosed spaces reminded me too much of the fire at The Admiral.

I no longer had my crowbar, but I still had my prosthesis, so I told Kitten to remove it for me, then clumsily used the curved metal end to jimmy open the grate. Like a worm I squirmed my way toward fresh air and daylight and collapsed onto the dirty concrete roof in utter exhaustion. Kitten followed behind and immediately took to replacing my leg while I sucked in deep gulps of air. Still, I couldn’t get enough of it. It felt like hands were clawing at my throat, saliva dripping in my face. My mind was reeling and my vision was turning dark. Was I dying? Was this death?

Kitten put his inhaler to my lips and instructed me to breathe. The steroid kick-started my system and allowed me to take in a full breath. My senses sharpened and I was able to see clearly again.

“Fuck me,” I muttered. I’d really lost my cool there. “I thought you said it was out of juice,” I remarked about the inhaler.

“I found a new one,” he said with a triumphant smile.

“Fuck yes.” I gave him a fist bump with my one good hand. All of that bullshit seemed worth it now. Kitten could breathe. Neither of us were going to die, at least not right now. Kitten untied my handkerchief and used the clean side of it to dab at the blood on my face and neck, tidying me up. I lay back and let him tend to me. I needed a goddamn minute.

“We made it,” Kitten said as he sat back on his heels to survey our surroundings.

“For now.” I raised myself to a sitting position, then stood slowly, testing out both my legs. Finding them satisfactory, I headed toward the edge of the roof to survey the madness below. Rabids were shuffling out of the building, shielding their faces from the late afternoon sun to dart back toward the woods where they must have emerged, but several would likely stay behind. There was no going back the way we came.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Kitten asked as he grabbed hold of my shoulders and turned me around to face him. It was starting to swell and there was a definite crookedness to it that didn’t bode well.

“I landed on it badly when I fell off that shelf.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kitten snapped as he yanked off his shirt and started ripping apart the fabric like the Incredible Hulk. “Sit down.”

I collapsed onto the metal AC unit while Kitten searched the roof, shirtless and buff as hell. He looked so hot when he took charge, which reminded me of last night when he’d asked to top me. Maybe I’d let him. Honestly, why the fuck not? Rabids could make a meal of me on any given day. Why hold back?

Kitten returned with a piece of flashing that he must have ripped off the roof of the building. He knelt in front of me and set about making a splint, using the strips of his shirt to secure the flashing along the length of my broken bone. With a longer bit of fabric, he fashioned me a sling. My arm was still hurt like hell, but at least it was secure.

“Feels much better. Thank you,” I told him.

“We should go to the base and have them X-ray it,” he said.

“It’s fine. Probably just a sprain.”

“I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other about important stuff,” he said to me with a glower.

He was right, and I hated being wrong. “Yeah, it’s probably broken, but I’d rather cut it off than go to them for help.”

“Well that’s just stupid,” he said with a frown. “I could try setting it once the swelling has gone down.”

“That’s the can-do spirit.”

“But if there are bone shards or I get it wrong, you could die.”

“Worst-case scenario,” I said.

“With a high probability.”

I elected not to argue with him right then, and instead glanced up at the sky where the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees. Our encounter with the Rabids and subsequent escape had eaten up most of our afternoon.

“I think we should rest here tonight,” I said to him. The circumstances weren’t ideal, but I was pretty sure we’d be safe on the roof, especially if we could drag the AC unit over the grate to block any intrepid Rabids from reaching us. “Think you could drive the bike home tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out. Do you want something for the pain?”

Lord did I, because now that the adrenaline had worn off, my arm was throbbing like a bitch, but I feared my own addiction more than the pain.

“How about we break open this bottle of vintage MD2020?” I pulled my bag toward me and presented it to him like a trophy.

He smiled, just a little one, and in a sudden burst of emotion, threw his arms around me. Careful to avoid my busted arm, he practically crawled into my lap. He’d grown a lot in the past few months, but I still managed to keep hold of him. His bare skin was hot and a little sweaty as I gripped him to me and buried my nose in his hair. He smelled like home.

“I’m so glad you’re alive. I thought that Rabid was going to get you,” he said.

Which one? I almost asked, but instead I only chuckled darkly and said with a bravado I surely didn’t feel, “Not a chance, sweetness. Not a fucking chance.”