****

A strange gnarl fetched me from sleep; I jumped up scared, gun in hand. The room was darker and except for the growl, a strange silence filled the space. A pungent stench of decaying meat and vomit burnt the hair in my nostrils, my eyes water from the combination.  I made no sudden movements, only tilted my head in the direction of Jasper’s mat, but it was vacant. The sound came again.

I moved to pinpoint the creature, but hands across my stomach and mouth stopped me. In the dark the perpetrator was hidden. “Shh…it’s Jasper,” he whispered and turned my head towards the other side of the room. The first thing I noticed was slowly dying light.

The barely lit candle illuminated a huge shadow near the furthest wall. By torn clothes and his sheer mass, I knew it was the Z. Discreetly; I slid out my knife and put the gun down on the blanket, before I remembered our stranger. I glanced across the room toward his makeshift bed to notice it was empty. Before I could ask Jasper, movement caught my attention. Not another, I prayed. Zeroed in on the figure crouched down behind the Z, I noticed it seemed frozen. With a sharp, blunt knife high, and metal knuckles across his fist, I knew it had to be the soldier. However, he watched the creature, instead of kill it.  

Time stopped as we all watched the Z. He seemed normal, smelled like the rest of them, but there was something peculiar in his behavior. It just stood there, mesmerized by the dancing light, and then it happened. The thing reached down with two fingers and extinguished the flame.

Instantly, we were all in darkness. I gasped and Jasper’s hand tightened around my mouth. At the same time, I heard the cry of the creature before the recognizable sound of a knife through hard, cold flesh. There was a thump on the floor which I figured was the Z’s head. Something heavy and metallic dragged along the floor and I heard the soldier grunt. I swallowed the urge to run to his side and see if he was okay, but survival stopped me.  It was important in these following seconds that no sound was made. It was weird to see a lone Z nowadays, and if he wasn’t alone then his cry was enough to alert others. So you wait and listen for the sounds of their heavy footsteps.

And we waited.

The lamp was ignited seconds later, and soldier melted back in the shadows against the wall. Amazed, I looked at Jasper for validation that he saw the prior events and like me, he was wide eyed. Not only were these things changing strategies but they were getting smarter; first with doorknobs, now with light.

When the war first started, the undead was only after food. They obsessed over it and would do anything for the taste of warm blood. Then over the months, they changed. Like moving in packs, they became curious, even observers. Jasper and I first noticed by their killing strategies. Instead of attacking us immediately, they ran us in circles, contained us to certain areas and waited for us to tire out before pouncing. This was what they did in the hospital. However, there were other times where they would try and separate us too. Now, I just watched a Z completely devoted to extinguishing a light. Somehow he overcame his drive for food to put us in darkness, where Zs used scent and killed best in pitch black.

After what felt like hours, our stranger slid around the bookshelf I slept behind and dropped down next to me. “He came from a cellar door along the far wall,” he whispered, his breathy words carried to Jasper.

“Is it secure?” Jasper asked.

“Yeah, I put a metal bar in the latch after I threw his body outside,” the soldier answered. With security back, we stayed silent after that. My ears strained to listen over the labored breaths from the soldier. Eventually, he told us he wasn’t hurt beside his injury from the glass, and that was the last thing he said. When offered assistance with cleaning his wound, he declined quietly and sagged against the wall.  I told them both that I would take watch, but no one could fall asleep after that. The Z got too close for comfort and thanks to this mysterious stranger, Jasper and I was saved.

***

Morning came only by the slight noise of the grandfather clock upstairs. None of us had moved from our spots, and the boys eventually fell asleep. However, I kept true to my word and stayed up. The flickering light of the candle held my attention, even though the ethereal silence caused anxiety. I kept replaying the scene over and over again, and grew angry that I was the last to wake up. I didn’t even hear the Z enter, or saw a cellar door when we checked the basement earlier. It was failures like that which would be our death, and this was the second mistake I made since being in charge.

Through dim light, my eyes went over to the stranger. With trepidation, I lingered on his face. Strong cheekbones accented long eyelashes and full lips. Though his hair was trimmed, a five o’clock shadow grew along his jaw and neck. My eyes lingered on his face for a couple of seconds, but trailed down to the shirt he wore. S.E.A.L. was embroidered across his right chest.  The stranger was a Navy SEAL. It was strange that such a talented soldier wandered on his own and so far from any base. Where was he from?

My eyes lowered to his injured stomach, the padding bulged against his cotton shirt. Suddenly, a throat cleared. I looked back up, frozen in his striking blue eyes. A sharp intake of breath had my lungs on ice, yet my groin burned with instant hunger.  Somehow my insides craved this man more than anything even though we just met, and Jasper was my supplement. This, could not happen.

The low rumble of the soldier’s voice sent a vibration through me and jolted me out of the trance. Embarrassed, I spun away and stood to stretch. I placed distance between me and the boys, enough that I was across the room. With my back to the bookshelf, I tried to ignore the hiss and shuffle the man made. Heavy footsteps allowed me to trace his path over to the candle, and I only had to turn my head a small fraction to see clearly.

His shirt was up to examine his bandages, but my eyes lingered on the sculpted muscles kissed by the amber light.  Arms up, I reminded myself of my predicament with Jasper, and blamed my urge on hormones. Quickly, I moved to a small space we deemed as a bathroom and cleaned myself. The extra time spent was to calm and talk myself out of attractions to this newcomer. Once finished, I crossed to a corner with potted soil and buried my waste. The stranger followed.

“Does burying your bloody things work?” he asked; stood closer than I was ready for.

I made haste of my job and turned to see him with his soiled wrappings. “Yes. We were crossing D.C. and all those crazies who protested at the white house, well, they’re all Zs now.  Jasper buried himself in between trees and the mob walked right over him.”

“Really, was he bleeding too?” He stepped closer; the light from behind him had me in his shadow.

“No, but I was,” I answered, realized we did this during my last period. “Around this time last month, we buried ourselves among the dirt, and we’re still alive.” His stared intensely at me, before nodded and moved toward a pot. He was silent while he finished up; I rose and went back to yoga.

In the midst of a downward facing dog, “Thank you,” was whispered close to me. I turned my head hard enough to flip my hair out of my face and spotted him against the wall. He watched me.

“You’re welcome, but we are even.” I dropped to my knees and stood. “You saved our lives this morning.” He made no sign that he heard so I moved closer. “You’re lucky. Jasper never takes people in…”

“Nope, he just ties up the wounded and leaves them for bait.” I blanched at the harsh reality. What should I say to that? Sorry doesn’t seem right when Jasper did what any one would do. In a sense we all used someone as bait to survive. “ I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant to make you feel bad.”

“Who are you?” I requested. His shoulders straightened and those blues eyes looked at me in earnest, but that was the only expression he let show. “Where did you come from? Are you alone? Why?” All at once, I couldn’t hold back my questions and just attacked. It was only when I was out of breath did I stop.

Fully erect; feet together and folded arms, he spoke, “I’m Buchanan, Michael Buchanan. I’m from…Georgia, and yes I’m alone.”

A thick southern accent crept into his husky voice, but it didn’t distract me from his failure to answer my last question. “So, he has a name, but why are you traveling alone?”

“Because I chose to,” he answered brusquely.

With narrowed eyes, I moved from next to him to stand in front of him. Even with the height difference, I mustered up my confidence and pinned him with a glare. “That’s it…?” I questioned but he stayed quiet. So I continue to stare and when I realized he wasn’t going to supply any more information, I decided to set an example. “That’s Jasper, I’m Celeste. We’re originally from New York City. We lost six friends on our journey, our families too, and we’ve never taken in a stray.”

While he had this whole conversation under control, it was my assault on his character that caused a reaction. He tilted his head slightly and smiled sarcastically, his shoulders shook lightly from laughter. “Well look around, we’re all strays now. Besides, you’re a long way from home down here in South Carolina, Celeste.”

“I know,” I snapped

His ill humor was gone, replaced by the blanket of despair and reality. “Where are you going?” he asked, quietly, aware of the weight of his words. It wasn’t smart to have a plan, that’s what most people believed now.  Plans or goals only resulted in disappointment or people’s death, however I disagreed. The reason I still fought everyday was because of the goal I set with friends at the beginning.

“One of my friends had a cabin at the beginning; it was somewhere her parents promised she goes if anything happened. Supposedly, it’s secluded on a lake. I’ve never there and my friend’s not around to describe it.  

“You’ve lost a lot of people?” He said, more of a statement than a question. I nodded, my mouth suddenly too dry to speak. “How old are you?”

“26, and you?”

“28.”

“Congrats,” I smiled. “Congrats, on making it to twenty-eight.” When he laughed this time it was filled with sweet sincerity.

“Thank you, same to you.”

At that moment, we heard noise from behind the bookshelf and watched as Jasper made his way from the back. He stood with his clothes askew and his hair stood on end.  Over the dim light, his eyes pause in scrutiny when they came to me.  “Any others?” he voiced generally, but an edge in his voice revealed his suspicions.

“No.” Michael answered.

“Any attempts?” Jasper pushed.

“None,” I replied, by then he was already on his way to the bathroom. I took his dismissal and grumpy attitude as a sign of a rough day. Taking advantage of the woken boys and security, I made my way back to a mat and slept.

****

“Oh my god, I never want to be underground ever again. I will fight twenty of those fuckers to just feel this glow on my beautiful skin. It should be a sin for me to have to hide it. Ask, Celeste. She’s can’t resist my ever-lasting Israelite tan,” Jasper’s statement bounced through the open window of the library and pulled me from my chair. It was a beautiful day; the unexpected heat brought back memories of summer, while the fall harvest created this ethereal world of out cornfields.

“Oh, and I thought it was all the hair,” Michael responded dryly.  As I smiled from the kitchen window at Jasper, who stood topless in the backyard, I noticed that Michael didn’t wear the same attire. He was over the grill in a black tank and olive cargo pants. Unlike Jasper, his pale skin glowed in the sunlight and his hair, a sandy brown with blonde highlights.

 “Are we having a picnic?” I asked, decided to join the boys and cherish the light while I could.

We’ve been up since the grandfather clock chimed ten times. Michael was the first to rise, I’m sure he woke up hours before. He was also the first to climb the cellar steps and break down our barrier. Three days holed up was too much for him, he explained. I, on the other hand, felt comfortable underground; slept the deepest I can remember since the war began. Jasper was slow to move, his cranky attitude only worsened; we were all keen to spread away from each other.

While I opened the windows and explored the library, Michael left for a run and Jasper chilled outside under the rays. It was a perfect day, one that many killed to have more of nowadays.

 “Well, Buchanan thought that fresh protein would be a great meal before we hit the road again,” his words laced with sarcasm. Hunting was Jasper’s weak spot and one that I excelled in. Ironically, he always wanted to carry the bow and arrow, while I carried the rifle.

“Oh really,” I snickered, and climbed down short kitchen steps toward the sunshine.

Arms spread out and head tilted back, I stood there taking in whatever rays I could; my body soaked in Nature’s energy. The smell of cooked meat and vegetables sent my stomach rumbling. It craved a meal, no more pork and beans over candlelight. “Smells good.” I turned toward Michael and he brought his gaze to mine.

“Would smell better if I had better wood,” he answered modestly, and I blushed.

 Not to be forgotten, Jasper snickered at that moment. “What is it?” I asked him and approached.

“Oh, it smells good…” he mocked me, and sat up on his arms to give me a better view of his six-pack. “You don’t even like meat.” Laughter escaped but failed to reach his eyes. Embarrassed, I flipped him the bird as he blew me a kiss.

“That’s not true,” I said toward Michael, but his eyes avoided me. “I just don’t trust when this ass cooks anything.”

“Really, because after all of my cooking, I’m still alive and healthy. You wouldn’t want that?” Jasper snapped out and dismissed the conversation quickly. He flipped over on to his stomach and closed his eyes. Sudden rage had my blood boiling and suddenly I wanted retaliation. So I picked up the first thing I saw and threw it at his head.

“Owww…what the fuck?” he yelled and immediately, I ran back  inside the kitchen. He jumped up to chase after me, but stopped midway through the door as an arrow flew right by his head and hit a bundle of straw outside.  “Really, Celeste!”

“Oops, sorry. It slipped,” I feigned innocence as Jasper swore and talked about soiled drawers.

“I don’t know why I keep you alive. Next time, you’re on your own from a mob of those Zs,” was Jasper’s parting words. I came out the kitchen, allowed room for Jasper to pass without hitting me. Then I remembered the soldier. Michael watched intensely, and I realized my third mistake. I let a stranger see my hidden skill, and now he was intrigued. Hurriedly, I retrieved my arrow and went to put it away.

“Catch!” Michael yelled. Caught off guard and terrified, I swung around with arrow aimed and hit the moving target. It was a tomato.

“Jesus Christ.” I cursed, while as he continued to stare; his poker face back.

I threw the tomato back, but he caught it like he was a Pro ball player. “You’re good. Have you always had this skill?”

“No,” I barked and returned toward the cellar door.

“Wait! Where did you learn then?”

“I picked it up when we first started traveling.” Really, a friend was the archer of the group, and when she died, I took her weapons. “You know that wasn’t funny, scaring me. I thought a Z jumped.”

“And you think I would just watch it attack you.”

“I don’t know you, so I wouldn’t know what you would do. For all I know, you could be some radical and let a Z kill me so you can steal all our stuff.” Yes, I was being childish and mean, but it’s true. Even though we spent days together in one underground room, he barely said a word. All we knew is that he was military before the war and now he’s alone. I know it sounds crazy, but if anything would happen, it’s easier to kill someone when you’re not empathic. “My aim could’ve been horrible and I killed you.”

Michael snickered and flipped over the meat. “You’re aim’s not bad, so don’t fuck with me.”

I blanched at his words, but didn’t let the intimidation show. He said it with such nonchalance that I feared I imagined it but then after seconds of silence he looked up at me. In those blue eyes I was so fascinated with, I saw confirmation. A thought ran through me and I knew he felt the same. If I didn’t lie to him, then he wouldn’t lie to me. That was trust, and that could potentially be dangerous.  

I dropped my eyes away from him and turned to leave, but I could feel his stare. My feet took me in the right direction of the cellar, but my mind refused to let me go. He wanted trust, and I couldn’t understand why with me. In this threesome, I was the weakling; he would be better off with Jasper. The man did manage to tie him up, and yet, he wanted to know what I could offer. Without my mind fully on board, my body moved so quickly and expectantly, I shot an arrow in his direction. With a thump, the green feather at the end bobbed out of the huge oak tree behind Michael, who was left with a line of blood along his cheek. A soft wind blew his words past quickly and by his blank expression I could’ve easily missed it, but I didn’t, I heard every word. “Like I said, don’t fuck with me.”