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He soaps himself up, purposely avoiding that area.

Tries thinking of that one dead guy with half a missing face, or the pile of guts he stepped in on the stairwell when he first escaped his apartment.

Plenty of gross shit to focus on these days, but it’s equally easy to stray into forbidden territory the moment he isn’t putting all his effort into conjuring up disgusting images.

Cole wonders how they might use those condoms he shouldn’t have accepted.

Imagines her soft and wet, clinging to his cock.

Her gasp of pleasure as he moves slow and deep between her legs tickles his ear, and his dick jumps in response.

He’s never felt this attracted to anyone.

Sure, he can appreciate a beautiful woman.

He’s watched his share of porn and it’s served its purpose.

Had a few extra short flings in the army.

This is a whole new set of feelings he doesn’t know what to do with and it’s stressing him the hell out.

Guilt is quick to consume him for considering using her as spank bank material.

The cold tile is smooth against his forehead, and his body is on fire with desire he can’t quench.

Going out there like this is impossible. Obscene. Not an option.

He has no choice but to jerk off and get rid of it, so he wraps a hand around the shaft and mindlessly strokes. He doesn’t think about anything. Not her. Not anyone. Looks at the grout in the tile and counts the little dots where it’s begun to break down and crumble.

Six. Six tiny spots in the nasty grout in front of his face.

His orgasm is nowhere to be found, so he pumps faster, bracing his other hand on the wall, desperately trying to find relief. He’s caught in the worst boner of his life. Hopelessly aroused and unable to come.

In the end, it’s not even something sexual that gets him there.

The moment he pictures her face and that beautiful, sweet smile, he’s trembling under his own touch and spilling his release with a grunt.

His vision whites at the edges, his knees tremble, and a groan escapes his throat as thick ribbons of semen flow from the tip to land on the floor and disappear down the drain.

How can he even look at her now? She’ll know exactly what he’s done the moment she sets eyes on him. He’s sure of it.

She appears clueless when he discovers her moments later, lying on the bed with a book, looking like a damn painting. When her attention finds him, she offers up that same gentle smile he’d been jerking off to in his head.

His shame is evident on his face, but she remains oblivious, only happy to see him as if he’s been away for more than ten minutes.

Her happiness falters when he can’t return her gesture and he promises himself from here on out he’ll never wrap a hand around himself and think of her again.

It makes him shifty when he sees her, and that’s not doing either of them any good.

A few seconds of bliss isn’t worth the fallout. She’s his friend, nothing more.

He absolutely does not think of her naked in the shower when she takes her turn.

Not for a second.

* * *

“You sure about this?”

He’s staring at a tiny Toyota sedan. It’s the kinda car he’d have been an ass about before the turn, but now it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, nestled in the garage like a protected pot of gold.

“We’re not using it, and the museum is too far to walk.

So yeah. If you want it, then it’s yours.

We owe you anyway for helping out before.

” Andrew says, handing him the keys. “The alley out back isn’t blocked and you’ve got a clear shot for another mile.

Not so sure after that. I put a few extra things in the trunk, too. ”

Their destination is eight miles away, which may as well be eight light years for how difficult he fears it’ll be to reach if the roads get clogged up. This’ll cut down on a few miles and he’s not about to it turn down. He takes the keys with a grateful nod and pairs it with a handshake.

“Are you ready?” he says to Olivia, who’s got the baby in her arms and a bag of supplies on her shoulder.

“Yes.”

Her immediate agreement boosts his confidence in the plan.

They’ve got enough food to last a few days. Supplies for the baby and for Olivia. They’ll be good for now, but he still wonders if he’s doing the right thing. He’d be out of here already if he was alone. No question. This facility isn’t a long-term solution.

He’s only hesitating now because he’s thinking of them and second-guessing himself.

So, he forces that worry aside and gets in the car, trusting his gut, which hasn’t failed him yet.

Olivia joins him in the passenger side with Lucy on her lap as daylight streams in through the newly opened garage door.

She’s trying to be brave, but he can see that flicker of doubt when she thinks he’s not looking as they slowly peel out onto the road.

The way she grips Lucy snug and how wide her eyes have gotten have him wishing he could say something to distract her.

Comfort her. He isn’t skilled at reassurance, though, and doesn’t try.

“Eight miles,” she says confidently. “That’s how far the Walmart used to be from my house. Easy drive. We can make it.”

“We got this. No big deal.”

They’re both bullshitting each other, but they go with it. No turning back. Fake it ‘til you make it is the motto of the day.

“This isn’t just on you. You know that, right? You’re not forcing me to do anything and if I didn’t agree it was a good plan, I wouldn’t have said yes to it. That’s at least one thing you shouldn’t worry about, okay?”

He hums a sound of agreement. “What makes you think I am?”

“You do a specific wince when you’re worried and there’s a definite scowl happening.”

Cole scowls harder. “I don’t do any of that.”

“Hmm. Okay. Sure. ”

“I don’t,” he replies evenly, knowing full well she’s right because he can feel his face doing exactly what she described.

“The important point here is that whatever happens, it’s on both of us. Not you.”

That’s a hard thing to accept. Letting go of full responsibility won’t be easy, but he agrees with a grunt of approval, gesturing to Lucy, who’s sleeping even deeper than before. “Her first car ride.”

“Think she likes it. The vibrations are soothing. Babies fall asleep easily in cars.”

“I used to lie across the back when I was little and count the trees passing out the window.”

Olivia grins. “Me too.”

They make it one mile with little trouble. There’s a few people peering out from their windows and more than a couple of rotters on the streets, but overall, it’s manageable.

This is a quiet area. Residential. Most people either left before the virus got them or have barricaded themselves in their apartments and brownstones. It’s only when they reach the more commercial districts that the difference begins to warp into something out of a nightmare.

They’re in the middle of it before there’s any time to change course. The streets are littered with the dead, most of which are following the noise from their engine by now. They have to hop onto sidewalks and push trash cans and kiosks out of the way with their car to get anywhere at all.

Two blocks turn into four with every foot getting more crowded and he begins to worry they won’t make it much further.

Olivia stays silent but when he tells her to hold on tight, she grabs the ‘oh shit’ handle with one hand and the baby harder with the other and then they’re plowing through rotters like a bowling ball down an alley.

If he stops, he’ll lose momentum. They have to make it past this area or risk getting stuck in a pile of bodies. One squish after another they bump and roll over the dead, creating a splatter he clears with the wipers.

“Fucker won’t quit,” he growls when they fail to shake a stubborn one hanging onto the hood.

He taps the brakes, but it won’t budge until another gets thrown up there too and knocks him free.

They’ve left a gruesome trail in their wake and one last push has them flying through a wall of the dead and into a clearer, quieter part of town. He glances over at Olivia, the two of them locking eyes until she breaks into nervous laughter.

“Just like playing a video game, right?” she jokes.

“A game I regret buying and want a refund on, but yeah.”

She flips open the crudely drawn map of their route, pinpointing their location with a finger. “Almost halfway.”

“Should be pretty smooth sailing from here on out.”

“What do you think the Smithsonian will be like? They have to have living quarters for the staff, right? A place that big had to have overnight workers. I’ve heard there are some parts underground.”

“It’s a government building, so it’s bound to have some tricks up its sleeve.”

“Bet they’ve got electricity, water, plenty of food. Stockpiles of it,” she muses.

They’re heading to a museum on the word of an addict with a slim hope that it could be a safe place to rest and it’s got to be the craziest thing he’s done since this whole mess began.

Still, he has to believe that it’s their best shot.

For now. If whoever runs that place even takes them in.

At least no one can look at Lucy and shut the door in her face.

Even if they don’t take him, and that’s a worry he’s not voiced yet, Olivia and the baby will have a place to ride this out. Right now, that’s all he cares about.

He’s so busy stuck in his head that he almost doesn’t notice what they’ve driven into as the car crunches over concrete rubble, glass, and whatever else is buried in piles that keep getting larger.

He’s forced to stop a block from their destination when everything ahead is smoke.

Gone.

Something bad happened here. An earth-shaking explosion destroyed all the surrounding buildings in its path, flattening them in a ripple effect from the source. They’ve rolled into the wasteland of a war zone and not even the dead walk it now.

“This isn’t a homemade job.” His heart sinks and all the hope he had only moments ago evaporates. “Whatever did this was government issue.”

There used to be a museum up ahead. Now, there’s only dust.

Olivia curls a hand around his forearm as they stare at what could have been their salvation.

Habit nearly forces a flinch. He hates being touched, but her skin is soft and her hold comforting. It’s a whisper of possibility in a single moment that makes him wonder if he could be the kind of person to enjoy this sort of thing outside of impending doom.

That’s all that’s on the menu lately, though. One heaping helping of impending doom after another .

“We can still go back,” he offers.

“No, let’s find that farm you told me about in the mountains. I want her to grow up somewhere like that. Not here. Not like this.”

This roadblock could be a sign urging them to reverse course if he believed in signs. He chooses to hope it’s only a detour to something better, puts the car in gear, and aims them toward what lies beyond the city.