Page 15 of Zinnia and the Zombie (Alien Abduction #26)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
J axx carried his sleeping mate to the sleeping platform and laid her down, his heart full.
He had never felt such pleasure—not mere physical pleasure but a sense of connection so deep that it seemed to exist at a cellular level.
A mate bond, he thought wonderingly. He had never truly understood what that meant before, but now he knew.
She was his.
His Zinnia.
The knowledge settled over him with a sense of belonging so profound it was beyond words.
Instead, he breathed a silent prayer to the Ancestors and climbed carefully out of bed.
As he did the cover slipped down to reveal a soft pink-tipped breast and his mating organ immediately began to rise.
Despite what he’d told her, he wondered if it would ever go dormant again as long as they were together—which would be always, he vowed silently.
But for now she needed rest, not his insatiable desire.
He pulled on his pants, unsuccessfully trying to wrestle his unruly body under control, then slipped silently out of the bedroom.
He crossed to the huge windows, automatically surveying the city.
Despite the profound change within himself, everything outside the window appeared the same. Had he really expected anything else?
Shaking his head at his foolishness, he stared towards the food preparation area, then paused.
There was a discrepancy between the length of the two rooms. He examined the wall paneling more closely and found a clearly concealed switch.
Braced for danger, he flipped the switch and the panel slid smoothly aside.
No drones emerged from the room behind the panel. Instead he found what must have been a study of some kind, the walls lined with data units from ancient scrolls to data crystals no different to those he had used in the past. A curved console of some rich, dark wood occupied the center of the room.
He examined it more closely and discovered another small hidden panel concealing a tangle of crystalline circuitry, the pattern surprisingly familiar. If he could restore the power…
He set to work, carefully tracing the connections and checking each junction. An hour later he was about to complete the final circuit when he sensed Zinnia entering the room. He gave a hum of satisfaction when the console flickered with pale blue light and rose to his feet, smiling at her.
She’d wrapped a thin silk throw around her delectable body, and she looked impossibly tempting, her hair tousled and her cheeks still flushed from sleep. He was tempted to forget his project and carry her back to bed, but perhaps he could find some answers at last.
“Backup systems,” he explained. “Minimal functionality, but enough to access the data archives. Perhaps we can discover what happened here.”
He studied the console for a moment before moving across the controls, rapidly growing more confident.
“You know how to use this?” she asked, moving closer.
“The interface is… recognizable.” He frowned down at the interface. “There are similarities to systems I’ve encountered before.”
The console responded to his touch, symbols flickering across its surface, and he tilted his head, studying them. There was a teasing familiarity to the script but he couldn’t quite decipher it. He sighed and flicked through the options until he found Galactic Standard.
“What does it say?” she asked, peering at the symbols.
“Personal logs,” he translated. “Final entries.”
He found the appropriate control, and a section of the room before them shimmered. A hologram materialized—a tall, slender being with iridescent skin and elongated features. He didn’t recognize the species but he could read the profound sorrow in its large, multi-faceted eyes.
“Final entry,” the being said quietly. “The Last Architect’s Testament.”
A sudden feeling of dread swept over him and he tensed.
“The quarantine has failed.” The hologram’s voice was weary, defeated. “The spores have spread to every district. Containment was… a fantasy. The warning signs were there for decades, but we were too proud to heed them.”
The male looked down at something beyond the recording’s view.
“Sephalia died this morning. The children followed within hours. I’ve administered the final mercy to them all rather than watch them suffer.” His voice cracked. “The plague leaves nothing of what they were. Only shells, consumed from within.”
Her hand crept into his and he clung to it.
“I remain only to complete this record. To warn anyone who might find our world. The spores lie dormant in the soil, in the water. We thought we could control them, harness them for our own purposes. We were wrong.”
The Architect’s form wavered.
“I can feel them inside me now. Soon, I will join my family. Our hubris destroyed us. May whatever gods exist forgive our arrogance.”
The hologram flickered and died.
Silence filled the room, heavy and oppressive as the memories came rushing back. He felt as if he were drowning in sorrow, only her touch keeping him from slipping under completely.
“My people,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It was similar. A biological agent that ravaged our systems. Not a natural plague, but a weapon.”
His grief was too overwhelming for him to remain still, and he released her hand, pacing from one side of the room to the other as she watched him, her eyes warm and compassionate.
He pulled away from her, pacing the room like a caged predator, golden skin dimming with his distress.
“Our enemies created it specifically for Zathix physiology. It didn’t kill immediately—it destroyed our ability to enter stasis.
Without that defense, we were vulnerable.
” His voice grew rough. “My crew—we were searching for a cure. That is why this place seemed so familiar. I’d never been here but I’d studied in hope of finding an answer.
When that failed, we looked for any survivors.
We’d received scattered transmissions suggesting isolated colonies might have developed resistance. ”
He stopped before the console, feeling the weight of that failure on his shoulders.
“Now they’re gone too. And I remain. Always, I remain.” The bitterness in his voice cut like a blade. “I fear my people are gone. That I am truly the last.”
“The Architects, the Zathix… both advanced civilizations, both destroyed.” He stared at hands as the golden glow began to fade. “Perhaps this is the natural order. Perhaps all civilizations are destined to burn bright, then extinguish themselves.”
He felt her come to him and heard the faint whisper of silk before her naked body pressed against his back and her arms wrapped around him, holding on to him with surprising strength.
“You are not alone,” she whispered against his skin. “I’m here with you.”
He stiffened, then slowly turned in her embrace and reached down to gently frame her face.
“For how long? What if I go into stasis again and lose you? Time could take you from me.”
She reached up, lightly tracing the contours of his face.
“Then we make the most of whatever time we have,” she said simply. “Whether it’s days or decades.”
He shuddered and pulled her against his chest, clinging to her as if he could physically prevent the future from tearing her away.
She held him as he grieved—for his lost crew, his vanished species, for civilizations turned to dust, and for the inevitable moment when death would separate them too.
She held him with all the strength in her human body, letting her warmth and her heartbeat anchor him to the present.
“I never expected to find you,” he said, his voice muffled against her hair. “To want to live rather than merely survive.”
“I never expected you either.” She tilted her head back to smile up at him. “My zombie, my protector, my lover.”
His arms tightened around her. “More than that, Zinnia. You are my heart.”
“And you are mine,” she whispered back, and he felt the truth of it resonating through his entire being. “Now come with me. Let’s leave the ghosts for tomorrow.”
He nodded, allowing her to lead him from the room, away from the console with its records of extinction. He made love to her with a quiet desperate intensity, and she returned his passion in equal measure, her body a haven, a balm for his tortured soul.
“We’ll find a way,” she said softly as they lay tangled together afterwards. “If there are other Zathix out there, we’ll find them.”
He stroked her hair, taking comfort in the soft strands. “And if there aren’t?”
She raised her head to meet his gaze directly. “Then we’ll build something new. Together.”
For the first time he allowed a flicker of hope to break through his despair. After all, he’d never expected to find her, perhaps it wasn’t impossible that other miracles waited for him.
“Now,” she said, giving him a teasing kiss as she slipped out of bed. “I am going to feed you and we’re going to watch the sun set over our new home.”
While she went to gather vegetables, he set to work on the cooking unit. He disassembled the panel and reconnected the power coupling to the backup system. A soft hum rewarded his efforts as the cooking surface illuminated with a pale blue glow.
“You did it!” she exclaimed, delight brightening her face. “Real cooked food, not just raw fruits and vegetables.”
He found himself smiling in response to her enthusiasm. “It appears their technology was designed to be adaptable to power fluctuations. Likely a precaution against grid failures during their civilization’s decline.”
As she prepared their meal, experimenting with the alien tubers and leafy greens, he turned his attention to the windows. Thick vines obscured much of the view, growing between the seams in the transparent material.
“These should be cleared,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Better visibility improves security.”
“And the view wouldn’t hurt either,” she called from the kitchen.