Soulless (A Zombie Erotic Romance) Page 2

  Evan waved to her and gestured for her to join him if she wanted. Would she? He didn't know. The offer was there, though. Smiling bright, wondering what kind of person besides him would come to a college campus during a zombie apocalypse, he set himself back to his studies.

  ...

  The man in the building waves to me and gestures me inside. I don't know what he's doing there, but he seems different. Maybe I'm dreaming, and I don't think it'd be the first time. If I came here for a reason, maybe he's it, though. I do need to go to the doctor's and I forgot my keys, so I should ask him for a ride. Is that weird to do? No one else is here, though. The worst he can say is no.

  I stumble on a rugged piece of the sidewalk while making my way to the front door of the library. It must be a nice day outside because someone's propped the door open with a rock, letting the fresh air inside. The light wind brushes against my cheeks and sends my hair aflutter. Sighing, wistful, I step inside.

  I feel very cold, but I think it's just the air conditioning they keep on in the library most of the time. It's funny because sometimes during the winter the central air system would kick on by accident and chill the place to near freezing. It never happened for too long because the librarians called up the maintenance man in a huff, but whenever it happened it made me laugh.

  Is it winter now? It is very cold, but I don't see any snow on the ground so I doubt it is. Autumn, probably, or a chilly summer day.

  I believe the man I saw must be a medical student; he was sitting in the health sciences section at any rate. No one's sitting behind the front desk which is a little odd. No one is anywhere, though, I remind myself. I walk through the turnstile into the library, holding onto the railing for support, and notice the pale blue color of my hands.

  Everything changes.

  No, I can't. The turnstile clinks behind me as I walk through and I pause at the other side, fearful and frozen in time. I don't belong here, not with him. I belong outside with the others, somewhere far away. If he sees me, he'll scream and panic. If he sees me, he'll run, and if he can't run fast enough they'll catch him.

  Or maybe he isn't as fearful as that. Maybe he'll see me and become angry. Does he have a gun or a knife? I have no idea. All I saw was a book, but who knows what he had under the table. And, even a book hurts when someone repeatedly slams it against you. It's hard to feel pain sometimes now, but I still know it's there. I have little cuts and scrapes, scars, from when I first became like this and I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to look at myself and know that I'm like this. I don't want reminders of how horrible a situation I'm in.

  I want to go home. I want to eat something warm and steaming and lay in bed for my half hour of warmth while reading my book. I want to cry and know what happens to Ally and Noah and I want them to be happy and live together forever. Is that too much to want?

  Just as I'm about to turn and leave, the man approaches me. He left the book at the library table and it's just him. He smiles, sees me, and then stops smiling. Face contorted, confused, lips pursed, he stares at me.

  I don't know what to say. I try to leave, try to turn away from him, but the world is such a mess and I can't seem to figure out which way is which.

  I fall. My foot catches on the edge of the turnstile and I begin to topple backwards.

  This is going to hurt. I don't know how much I'll feel, but I know it'll happen. I look up, somber, watching the ceiling as my body seems to crash backwards in slow motion. Everything seems slow when you don't want it to happen. Slow, but that doesn't mean you can change anything. You have to watch it, wait for it, feel anxiety and fear in the pit of your stomach as your heart races and you worry.

  I fall, but he catches me.

  ...

  Evan didn't expect the woman to be a zombie. He didn't even want to call her that, but he didn't know what other word to use. It seemed like a type of racism to him, though. If he said something like that would she be offended?

  Casual, Evan, he told himself. Act casual. She wasn't trying to eat him, which was good. He didn't actually know how that worked, since he tried to never to put himself in that kind of situation, but the stories people told back at his camp were never good. Vicious, vile things, creatures of death and anger, chasing people through the streets, and if they caught you...

  Everyone knew what happened if they caught you. It was no secret. Evan disliked it, didn't want to believe it, but he knew, too. He'd seen it happen once from far away. But why?

  This woman didn't do that, though. She wasn't chasing him and she had no horde of followers intent on trapping him in the library. She was just herself and he'd asked her to come inside. He'd waved, friendly, gestured her in, then went back to reading. He'd invited her here, and she came. There was nothing wrong with that.

  She looked so uncomfortable, though. Pale, blue skin and a worried look on her face. Grabbing the turnstile at the entrance to the library, she tried to turn around, maybe to leave, but she slipped.

  Fuck! Evan ran. He had time, they weren't too far apart, and he just barely made it. Jumping the last few feet, he caught her in his arms and fell with her, softening her fall with his body. They lay in a heap on the floor.

  Evan laughed. "Sorry about that," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

  His hand touched the side of her arm and she was soft to the touch. And cold. Not too cold, but noticeably cool. He eased her off of him slowly and stood up, reaching a hand out to help her up. She stared at him from the ground, looking at him funny.

  ...

  I fell but he caught me.

  So tight and close, he must have jumped to reach me in time. He looked athletic from afar, more than capable of dashing forward and catching someone, but I honestly didn't know why he did it. I was so grateful, though. I wanted to cry for another reason now, but it felt so silly and inconsequential.

  He touched me, too.

  It sounded bad in my head when I thought of it like that, but that was exactly what he did. His gentle, warm hands held onto the side of my arms, rubbing up and down, relaxing me. His heat was like a blazing furnace to my cool body. I felt alive and warm under his touch, so wonderful and amazing. I knew this was how the others felt, why they rushed towards people in a frenzy when they saw them, but I'd never felt it before myself.

  He helped me off of him and stood at my side, smiling at me. Reaching out his hand, he wanted to help me up. I stared at him, still feeling his warmth, curious and contented.

  Like them, all I needed to do was grab his hand. He looked strong, but if I caught him off guard while he helped me up I could squeeze his hand tight in mine and pull him back to the ground. His throat seemed to shine like some bright beacon. If I scratched, bit, killed...

  I took his offered hand and held onto it tight and let him help me up off the ground. He smiled at me more and moved in close.

  "Are you alright?" he asked.

  I squeezed his hand and pulled him towards me. He came readily, watching me with interest. Lifting his hand up, I placed it on the side of my cheek.

  Fire!

  My cheek melted under his touch, feeling so wonderful and warm. I held his hand against my cheek and smiled at him.

  "Thank you," I said. "You're so kind."

  My eyes started to tear up and I knew I couldn't help myself anymore. Why was I crying? So dumb and silly, but I didn't think I could stop myself if I tried. He grinned and wiped the tears away from my eyes with his other hand. Warm, like the heat from a sauna, a few stray tears slipped down my cheeks, but he wiped those away, too.

  "You're--" he said, pausing, brow furrowed. "Different."

  "I'm a zombie," I said, feeling like we should get that out of the way.

  "I didn't want to say that because it sounds prejudiced," he said with a chuckle. "I can call you that if you want, but maybe... do you have a name?"

  "Sadie," I whispered. I hadn't used my name in so long, hadn't heard anyone call me that in months, but I liked it. I lov
ed my name and wanted him to say it all of a sudden.

  He did. My name slipped out of his lips like a liturgy during Sunday mass. "Sadie," he said, grinning. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Evan."

  I wasn't crying anymore, merely staring at him with rapt fascination. The hand he'd used to wipe away my tears reached out. I accepted it, shook it, and held it tight, not wanting to let go. I did, though, I let him go. Bright tingles of warmth tickled through my fingertips and fingers, centered in my palm, so delightful.

  "Do you want to come sit with me?" he asked.

  I nodded, having no idea what to say to him.

  "Would you mind, um...?"

  I still held his other hand against my face, reveling in his warmth. He gently moved his fingertips, caressing my cheek.

  "Oh," I said. "Oh, I'm sorry." Reluctantly, I let him go.

  He took my hand, though; he didn’t let me go completely. I held his hand as he led me towards his spot in the library. At that moment, I thought I would have followed him anywhere if only he kept holding me. The glimmering afterglow of his hand against my cheek felt magnificent, and the constant, cozy warmth of his hand holding mine was pure bliss.

  We sat. He helped me into a chair and then he sat in the one next to me.

  "You're cold," he said.

  I frowned. "I know. I don't mean to be. I hope it's alright."

  "No, no." He shook his head. "I just... I don't know why I said that. Does it hurt?"

  "Does what hurt?" I asked. I felt lightheaded and happy, despite the fact he wasn't touching me anymore. His lingering warmth kept me feeling nice, like I'd just eaten half a can of molten hot soup and settled into my bed back home with my book.

  "Well, I'm warm and you're cold. Was my hand too hot? You looked--"

  "No!" I said in a panic. "No, no. Oh God, no. You... um..."

  He smiled and scooted his chair closer to me, right next to mine. "What?" he asked. "You can say it. It's alright."

  He touched me again. Both his hands reached for one of mine and he held my hand loosely in his own. I relished it and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. My body felt near orgasmic, alive, ecstatic. This was so remarkable and new to me and...

  He let go of my hand. "Are you alright?" he asked, startled. He grabbed his medical book, looked at it, shook his head, and slid it away as he stood up. "Are you in shock? I can help you. I used to be an EMT. I don't have any medical equipment here, but hold on, Sadie. Everything's going to be alright. Just..."

  I stared at him, blinking, then I laughed.

  He looked at me with the funniest expression of confusion I thought I'd ever seen. "Sadie?"

  "Ohhh." I grabbed his hand and pulled him back into his chair. "No. I'm fine. You're just so warm."

  "Oh," he said.

  "It feels nice," I said. "I like it." For good measure, I added, "I'm not trying to come on to you. I'm sorry if it sounds that way."

  "Oh," he said. "No, that's fine? Huh. So you like the warmth?"

  "Yes." I nodded. "A lot."

  "Why are you so cold?" he asked. "Is it because...?"

  Because I was a zombie. That's what he wanted to ask, I could tell, but I appreciated him being nice about it. "Yes," I said. "I think so. We're all like this. Me and the others."

  The others, I thought. I was one of them and Evan wasn't. He was someone else far apart from what I was or what they were. I didn't know if I really belonged here talking with him. I didn't know if it would cause issues with him, either. Did he have someone waiting somewhere? Would they know he'd talked with me? If I stayed near him, would he turn into a zombie too?

  "I want to help," he said all of a sudden, snapping me away from my depressing thoughts.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "There's something wrong. I don't know what it is, and I don't know if anyone knows, but there's something wrong with..."

  He paused. I finished his sentence for him. "With me."

  "No!" Evan stared at me hard. I could see the fire in his eyes like the warmth in his hands, steady and fierce. He touched me, placed his hand on my cheek again. "Ugh. I'm not good at this. I don't know how to say it. There's nothing wrong with you or anyone, Sadie. But... what's happened? Yes. What's happened isn't your fault, or anyone's fault, really. I want to fix it. I don't know how, or if I can, but I want to try."

  I stared at him, more attentive than I'd felt in months. The look in his eyes, the way he kept his hand pressed against my cheek, his steady demeanor and his refusal to back down; it captivated me. Pulsing, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat, waves of incandescent heat spread from his hand to me. I held my hands against the back of his, worrying he might let go of my cheek if I didn't.

  "I would like to think you can," I said. "I don't know how you would, though. I'm not sure it's possible."

  Evan nodded. "I don't know, either. I've been studying, though. See?" He grabbed his book with his free hand and showed it to me: Robbins Pathologic Basis for Disease. "Not that, um, you have a disease or anything. I found the medical student curriculum in one of the offices here and this book was on the required reading list."

  "Are you a doctor?" I asked.

  "No. Not quite. I'm an EMT. Or..." He paused and looked at me with a strained look for a moment. Not quite at me, though, but past me. Through me. "I was an EMT. I'm not sure there's really such a thing anymore, though. I wanted to go to medical school and become a doctor. Or maybe a PA. I didn't have a chance before everything kind of went crazy. That doesn't mean I can't still do it, though. It won't be the same, but..."

  "You're brave," I said. "It doesn't matter if you can't technically do it. I think you're very brave for wanting to do it anyways."

  He smiled. "Thanks."

  I felt shy, unsure if I should do this, but I decided to go for it. Leaning towards him, I kissed his cheek.

  I nearly fell out of my chair, paralyzed by the feeling of his warmth against my lips. My body froze, tightened, and I couldn't move away. Nor did I want to move away. The heat, the pleasure, from something so simple as a kiss on the cheek exploded inside me like a fiery blaze.

  "Sadie?" Evan said; but I was somewhere far away and couldn't hear him. "Sadie! Sadie, are you alright?"

  He pulled me away and held my shoulders, looking hard at me. With my lips gone from his cheek, I felt some semblance of regularity returning. I'd felt imbalanced while kissing him, knocked out of equilibrium, like gravity had ceased to exist and I was falling forever.

  "I don't think I should kiss you," I said, laughing, giddy.

  "Oh?" He smirked. "Why not?"

  "That was very strong. I felt heat--a lot of heat--and it felt nice but I couldn't think straight for a second. I've never felt that way before."

  "That's curious," he said. "I wonder... what if I kiss you?"

  I didn't know. I didn't know but I wanted to know. I was no stranger to kissing, but I hadn't ever kissed someone like that before. Who knew that a casual, thankful kiss on the cheek could feel so passionate? That was the only word I could think to describe it, like the fire of pure arousal licking at my lips.

  "Sorry," Evan said. "I didn't mean that in a flirtatious way. I was just thinking out loud. Hypothesizing, if you will. I do that a lot now. Trial and error, right? It's a good way to educate yourself as long as you're careful."

  "Oh," I said. I wanted him to kiss me now, though. Was he going to?

  He gazed at me, into me. Our eyes met. I hoped he saw something nice in my eyes, something he liked. I definitely liked his eyes. They were a sharp, piercing blue and reminded me of something I'd seen recently, but I couldn't quite remember what.

  Bang! Bang! Slam!

  Jumping up, startled, I looked towards the front of the library where the noise came from. Evan stood with me, taking a place right next to me.

  Staring at us through the library's front windows was a small group of the others. They slammed on the windows, trying to crack them open and break in. If they kept it up, they probably wou
ld, too.

  "They shouldn't be in here," I said. "How did they get in? There's a chain on the front gates."

  Evan sighed. "I broke the lock to get in here. I thought if I left the chain in place no one would notice. I guess that didn't work out."

  "I know you want to help them," I said. Forcing myself to focus through the intense warmth, I placed my hands on Evan's face and made him look at me. "You need to run, though. They want to kill you."

  "I know," he said. "It's alright."

  Dashing a few steps away, leaving me cold and alone, Evan ducked under the library table and grabbed something from beneath it. When he returned and stood up, he held a crossbow and an arrow quiver full of bolts in his hands.

  My mind reeled and I stared at him, conflicted. "Evan, you can't. Please, don't kill them. You need to run to safety."

  He flashed me a grin while strapping the quiver and crossbow to his back. "No one's going to get hurt," he said. Without warning, he swooped forward and took my hand in his. "Let's go."

  "What do you mean let's go?" I asked.

  I asked him this, but I was already going with him. Evan ran through the library towards the back entrance with me in tow, squeezing my hand for good measure. My legs felt slow and unsteady, but he helped me whenever I took a bad step and nearly slipped. I followed him like a ship guided by a lighthouse, the ever-present heat of his fingers offering me a breadcrumb trail out of this screwed up fairytale forest.

  Peeking over my shoulder, I saw the others chasing us. One of them stood at the window still, slapping on it with his bare hands, but the remaining four must have found the front entryway into the library. They hobbled past the turnstile, getting stuck in its slim path, but not for long. One made it through, then another, the third and fourth. None of them waited for each other, though.

  They ran towards us in a shambling, awkward gait. The look of confusion on their faces contrasted with the decisive look in their eyes. They didn't want me--I was nothing but competition to them--but Evan's blazing heat was like the promise of a goldrush in their minds.