Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.52
Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 52
Date: 7 April, 2011
Rating: R (for sex and violence)
Disclaimer: Hmmm, characters, not mine, situation, mine, though with the proviso that certain scenarios owe a major debt of gratitude to George Romero. Sex? Likely. Genders involved? Likely all female (at least anything on camera). Also there are likely to be very bad things in this story. I'm not one for prodigious amounts of gore, but this is horror and there is likely to be ickiness and things that might disturb some folks. Seriously. If it's gonna bother you, move along.
Summary: When the dead rise, civilization falls.
Author's Notes: Awhile back, just for fun, I did a faux movie poster that set Otalia in a horror setting and used some elements from an idea I've had running around for ages (what can I say---it was the Halloween season). See the poster here: http://altfic.com/artgallery/otalia/glafterworld01b.htm . Sooo, at some point, it seemed like fun to take a gander at writing them in that universe. I've quite deliberately tried to break away from my usual style and make it a bit faster moving, with frequent chapter breaks, deliberate cliffhangers, shorter scenes and more directed pov. We'll see if I can keep to one pov per chapter (well, they are short chapters...lol).
Dedicated to: My mom. Seriously. All of my growing up years, she would constantly throw me these what-if scenarios and press me to figure out logical ways to survive/get out of various emergency situations. Now, she never mentioned the zombie apocalypse, but I'm sure that was just an oversight or a desire not to scare a little kid (because, really, I grew up as the daughter of a top secret type during the cold war...I already had enough fear issues), but really, that odd little game was the genesis of...well...not just this story, but a lot of my love of writing. So, thanks mom.
Previous Chapters: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43 | Chapter 44 | Chapter 45 | Chapter 46 | Chapter 47 | Chapter 48 | Chapter 49 | Chapter 50 | Chapter 51 |
Author's Note: Many thanks for all the words of caring and support. Had a couple of tense weeks while we were coming up on and waiting for the results from Mom's first CT after starting the chemo, but it's all good. The doctor and nurses had told us that if we just saw no signs of additional growth, it would be good news, but things went even better. There was some sign of shrinkage in both the tumor and the lymph nodes. Under the circumstances, best news possible. Doesn't mean it's magically easy. There are good days and bad, but it does mean we're on the right track, and it's a hell of a motivator when things seem too hard. You spend so much time without any objective measures in this kind of situation that to have some proof that things are going well is enormously helpful. Meanwhile, Mom is enjoying herself thoroughly with her growing vegetable and herb garden (yum, unlimited fresh basil) and I've been getting back into writing and some artwork, not to mention a bit of WoW and even some gardening too. So with all that said, thank you once again and hope you enjoy this chapter.
Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 52
Crashing, bumping, slamming through doors, slamming locks, pushing over furniture. Anything to escape, anything to buy another foot, another yard, another bit of a barrier or any slim thread of protection.
Anything to gain another second's freedom from the alive-dead-undead creature roaring and screaming in their wake.
More pulled by Natalia than pushing her now, Olivia stumbled through another doorway, clumsily pivoting back as the other woman reached around her and slammed the door, then pushed the small button that locked it.
The door was lightweight with a hollow core, the lock meant more for privacy than safety.
Jeffrey, or whatever remained of him would tear through it like tissue paper.
"He's mad," Natalia breathed as she grabbed for a bureau and started to drag it over in front of the door.
In the distance, barely muffled by walls and doors, Olivia could hear him howling, the sounds he made all rage, threat, lust, and hunger. Maybe it was the muffling of doors and walls or maybe of a tongue that had grown uncoordinated driven by a mind fading into obscurity, but it seemed to her the sounds were growing increasingly incoherent. "No," she disagreed as she reached for another corner of the desk with her left hand, not even trying to use her right-Jeffrey's slap to disarm her had done enough damage it was a wonder she'd managed to shoot at all. "He's dead."
"He can't be," Natalia whispered, the words ragged and hopeless, though she never slowed in her efforts to blockade the door with any available furniture, "they don't..."
"Old rules," Olivia rasped as the desk slid into place. "Now they do...or he does anyway." Not letting herself think, she pivoted and grabbed for the top edge of a nearby bookshelf, using her weight to tip it sideways. It unbalanced so quickly that she had no choice but to use her injured hand to keep it from toppling onto her own head. Her hand torqued painfully, drawing a whimpery cry, but she didn't let go until was on the floor in front of the desk. Another layer of protection. As soon as she let go, Olivia yanked her hand against the protection of her body.
God, it hurt. Even worse than the rest of her body. Which was one hell of a lot. So much so that Olivia couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't even take another, much-needed step.
Which wasn't a good thing given what was pursuing them.
The world dipped and swirled. Oh, lovely, there was the concussion again. Still turning her life into an human Tilt-A-Whirl ride.
She was still trying to regain her equilibrium when suddenly Natalia was there. She wrapped one hand around Olivia's upper arm, steadying her, then reached out with to tuck the fingers of her other hand under Olivia's palm, drawing her hand up to study the damage. Olivia's knuckles were painted in shades of purple and red, her fingers swollen and stiff, the jut of her wrist-bone more prominent than usual. She could barely move it and winced at Natalia's light touch.
Doe-brown eyes tipped up to study her. "How did you shoot with your hand like that?"
"Had to," Olivia exhaled. Slipping battered fingers free of Natalia's gentle grasp, she raised her hand to stroke the other woman's cheek, ignoring the pain caused by even that tiny bit of contact. "Couldn't let him..." She shook her head slowly, unable to give voice to the terrors that had tormented her during the brief moments when she'd retreated in search of the gun. "Had to," she said again when no other words came.
Those remarkable eyes slid closed and Natalia mouthed something, any sound she made too soft to be heard. Leaning close, she rested her forehead lightly against Olivia's shoulder. The need for comfort and succor too strong to be resisted, Olivia pressed her cheek against silky hair and just held on. They could afford a moment of respite, she told herself as the scents of soap and flesh and something soft and wholly individual teased her nostrils.
The smell was alive, sweet, tantalizing.
And dangerously familiar.
Olivia flashed on another moment. Standing close in total darkness, soft curves molded against her own, the taste of velvety lips...
Hunger.
She nearly shoved Natalia away as the tactile memory of that fierce craving washed through her once again. Raw, wanton, feral, she'd redirected the driving need to the sensual, but it had started on an uglier, far less human path, propelled by wants and needs she would have preferred to forget.
All of it driven by the soft scent of flesh that swirled around Natalia like some sensory halo designed to beckon the dead. It was a kind of sweetness, faintly floral smelling to Olivia now, though when death had been knocking on her door, it had possessed all the sizzle of a good steak.
Olivia's nose twitched and she turned her head, hunting for some sign of something similar clinging to her own skin.
The same scents of soap and human sweat reached her nostrils, but nothing of that sweeter, more entrancing smell.
That nothing was important somehow.
"Olivia?" Natalia's voice, breathless and scared, broke in on her thoughts, drawing Olivia's gaze back.
It distantly occurred to Olivia that Jeffrey wasn't yelling anymore, just making an occasional low, keening sound. "We'll be all right," she mumbled, but her mind was elsewhere, her thoughts focused on the hazy hours when she’d been as much dead as alive. So many disparate details, none of them quite clear. It was like working a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle made from a blurry photograph. A shiver slid over her skin as she struggled to piece it all together. There were secrets to the whole of Armageddon in there somewhere if she could just puzzle it out. Except she had hell on her heels and every nerve ending in her body screaming on overload.
And the sweet scent of life teasing her nostrils.
Then suddenly Natalia pulled away, taking the tantalizing smell with her and leaving Olivia momentarily lost.
“We can get out,” Natalia said, her voice coming fast with adrenaline driven excitement. Crossing to the opposite wall, she ran her fingers along the edge of a wallpaper seam, clearly hunting for something. A moment passed and then she found what she was looking for, a pressure point where the wall pushed in, clicked, then released a panel that covered a hidden space. "There's a ladder to the second floor...we just need to get to the bedroom, go back out the window and-"
Olivia's palm hit the panel and she slammed it shut before Natalia could drag it open more than an inch or two.
"What-" Natalia exhaled sharply.
"No," Olivia bit out, then softened her voice as she repeated, "No." She could feel the other woman's confusion like a living thing. Natalia didn't understand, and Olivia wasn't sure she did either.
She just knew it was all about the dead.
A shudder rippled through her as a hint of memory made her fingers tingle.
Not just the dead, but being one of them.
Needing to know, she struggled to test the hidden corners of her mind and the tingle ramped up, becoming a sharp, stinging sensation. It wasn't easy. It hurt and made her want to run and hide from the thing she'd been and things she'd wanted.
The hardest devils to face are the ones inside.
Closing her eyes, Olivia inhaled air on a five count, exhaled again, settling herself. She felt her pulse and breathing slow, felt the air around her move over her skin...
Felt the universe and her place in it. Standing there, she reached back to those moments when she'd been more dead than alive, hunting for the secrets her fading self had seen. It was still there, buried deep inside her, something of that mournful, angry, mostly gone soul. Reaching out to it, she let it in, then let it out, shuddering as it washed over her again.
In that moment, she was more than alive, less than dead.
The scent of Natalia's skin and hair teased her nostrils, filling them with the odors of summer and life and hunger beyond human imagination. On the verge of death, she'd possessed a preternatural awareness of those haunting smells, enough to track the other woman through the house. Now there was only a memory of that intense tie.
Natalia was pulling at the door again.
Reaching past her, Olivia slammed it and kept her weight on the panel this time. The position put her firmly against Natalia's back, her cheek near the other woman's ear. If she moved her arms just a little, Natalia would be wrapped up in them. And she'd be wrapped up in that rich, heady scent.
And suddenly she understood. Not everything. Not even most of it, but just enough.
Jeffrey had gone very quiet. No more shouts or screams, no sounds of walls coming down.
But the tiniest creak.
Olivia's head snapped up.
Combat boots on the stairs or maybe in the hallway above? She'd moved through various phases on the way to death. Was he moving through even more in its aftermath?
"Olivia?" Natalia said sharply, something akin to panic in her voice.
"He'll know," Olivia whispered with deadly certainty.
Natalia shook her head in denial. "No, he-"
"He can smell you," Olivia hissed. Without meaning too, she leaned closer and breathed in the soft scent of the other woman's hair. Oh yeah, one sniff and he'd come running. Only he wouldn't be stealing kisses in dark corners.
At least not the sweet kind. No, his kisses would be far rougher with very permanent side effects.
"Are you-" Natalia interrupted Olivia's train of thought, sounding sick and scared, though of who or what, Olivia wasn't entirely sure. Certainly, of the monster outside their current shelter, but maybe of her as well.
"I'm sure," Olivia bit out, her voice hard and unfamiliar sounding even to her own ears.
Natalia tensed and shivered. Fear, Olivia diagnosed and couldn't even blame her. What she'd been and the tiny sliver of what still remained inside her was terrifying as hell.
Wanting to reassure the other woman, Olivia pushed away. "Leave the door closed," she instructed as she pivoted on one foot.
A heavily shuttered windows dominated one wall. Stepping over to the nearest one, she flipped the latches and opened it just enough to peer out. The glass had been painted from the inside to match the siding outside. Another of the camouflage techniques. Not good enough to fool a thinking human, but undoubtedly successful against the mindless dead. She scratched some of the paint away with a thumbnail. It flaked easily. It was something cheap and thin. A make-do effort.
She scraped off just enough to get a look, then almost wished she hadn't.
All the noise had stirred up the locals and brought more company. There were more than usual and they were dangerously alert, sniffing the air and reacting to any tiny movement. No getting out that way-Olivia glanced over her shoulder at the dark-haired woman watching her closely-at least not for Natalia. She lifted her hand, sniffing her own inner wrist and palm.
Still nothing.
Except maybe the unwanted shadow of those dark temptations to take and have and let the feral run loose. She tightened her hand into a fist, muscles rippling up and down her arm.
No. She wasn't that and wouldn't allow herself to become that thing again.
"Do you trust me?" Olivia whispered when she finally spoke. Half afraid of what she might see in dark eyes, she couldn't look back.
A beat and then a warm hand landed on her shoulder. "With my life," Natalia exhaled very softly.
Yes would have sufficed. In the old world, there were different levels of trust. The person you could trust to critique current movies wasn't the same as the person you could trust with your wallet, who wasn't the same as the one you could trust with your life, who wasn't even remotely close to who you could trust with your kid. But in Afterworld, there was only one level of trust since every moment had the potential to turn into a life and death scenario.
At the same time those softly uttered words chased away the demons, washed away the rapacious hunger and left her confident of her humanity once again.
"Stay here," Olivia said as she turned to face the younger woman. "Doors locked, gun in hand." Keeping one hand on the open shutter, she passed the 9mm automatic she'd used against Jeffrey over to Natalia. "I'll be back." She reached for the latch on the window, only to freeze as Natalia caught her wrist.
"You can't go out there," the other woman insisted. "They'll kill you."
"No," Olivia denied, "they won't...but they would kill you." Already, they were wandering closer to the window, drawn by even minuscule bits of sound and movement.
"But-"
"It changed me...took something...gave something...I don't know," Olivia whispered, knowing it wasn't much of an explanation, but it was all she had. "Just know I don't smell like prey...they won't notice me," she explained, her tone more confident than she was, "and neither will Jeffrey." She shook her head. "He won't know I'm coming." The hand on her shoulder tightened and she allowed it to draw her back around until she was facing the other woman.
Olivia watched as dark brows drew into a frown as full lips rounded. "Olivia," Natalia breathed almost inaudibly. She was getting it.
"I promise you," Olivia said, her voice little more than a ragged whisper, "I'll be back." She would have given anything for the courage to lean down and taste soft lips again, but it was all too confusing and too new and without the level of unpitying narcissism offered by near-death, she couldn't do that to either of them. Instead she pulled Natalia into a hard hug and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I won't let him have you," she exhaled, a tiny shiver running over her skin as Natalia's warm breath flowed over her neck. "Won't let him have us," she added almost inaudibly.
And then she was moving, releasing Natalia-quickly, because if she took her time, she wasn't sure she could let go-slipping the shutters open and then the window. "Lock back up," she instructed without looking back.
No looking back or she couldn't keep moving forward.
She dropped to the ground, sliding the window closed in her wake, heard the latches thrown behind her.
Ahead of her were the dead, behind one of her only remaining reasons for living.
And between here and there, one last task in need of finishing.
She broke into a hard run, body renewed by a sense of purpose, and barely slowed to grab an ax driven into a log on the remains of a seasons old woodpile. Forgotten in the months since the arrival of hell on earth, the head was dark with rust, the wooden handle rough with splinters from exposure to the elements.
Still, it was strong enough to do the job.
After all, it wasn't like it was wood she intended chopping...
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TBC