Patient Z (12 page)

“I’d be as useful ashore as any of them,” Cal said. “I was there only a month ago. I survived there for two years.”

“That’s exactly what Bren said.” Mitch smiled. “And I think you both make a very good point. But you’re also important to the doctor’s research. I’m still considering.”

Yeah. The research. He felt a bit guilty about that, especially after all the blood samples she’d taken from him were destroyed. “I’ll leave the doc a replacement blood sample before I go…we go.”

Fuck. Mitch noticed the stumble and looked at him with a thoughtful expression. Hell, had he guessed Cal’s motive for volunteering? And what if that made him decide not to take Cal on the mission? Maybe Mitch needed a little distraction. And a reminder that he couldn’t bear to have Cal far from his side.

He stood and walked to Mitch, the metal deck cold on his bare feet. Mitch was still close to the door; it was slightly ajar. Cal didn’t stop when he got close. Mitch backed up and hit the wall beside the door and Cal kept coming. He put out one hand to close the door and shove the bolt across.

“Cal,” Mitch started, but he didn’t finish as Cal kissed him hard, pressed close, pushing him against the wall. He squeaked out a protest, put his hands on Cal’s upper arms as if about to push him away, but he pulled him closer instead. Still tasted of smoke, both of them, a reminder of the ordeal they’d passed through. How close they’d been to death. The thought made heat surge up through Cal. God, he really could have
died
out there. He groaned and pulled out of the kiss, then dropped to his knees.

“Cal, we don’t have time for this.”

“There’s always time for this.” The cold, hard deck hurt Cal’s knees. He didn’t care. He unzipped Mitch’s pants and shoved them and his shorts down. Mitch’s cock sure had time for this, thickening, rising quickly. Cal nuzzled and licked it until Mitch was moaning and begging for him to suck it. His voice was strained, trying to be quiet, not be heard outside. He placed one hand on Cal’s head and guided him. Cal didn’t resist, as ready as Mitch, his hand busy in his shorts.

He slid his lips over Mitch’s cock. It tasted hot and musky. Mitch had not cleaned up yet, but Cal didn’t object. It was Mitch. As he was the only other man around, Cal had, almost without realizing it, become acutely aware and appreciative of Mitch’s scent. This was Mitch’s scent magnified, sharper, stronger than usual. It made Cal dizzy.

He was damn good at giving head. He prided himself on it. He moved back and forth slowly for a while, running his tongue along the vein, teasing, until Mitch was gripping his hair, his caressing hand becoming a tight fist. Cal ignored the pain. He needed no urging on. He’d wanted this for weeks. He leaned in closer and stopped teasing, taking the cock into his throat. Mitch thrashed against the wall, writhing, groaning. He thrust at Cal until Cal pressed his hands on either side of Mitch’s hips and pushed him back, stilling him. Mitch strained against him, but Cal put his weight into it to keep him in place.

All Mitch’s energy seemed to cram into that hand tugging at Cal’s hair, and he feared Mitch would tear a chunk of it right out. But then Mitch stiffened, giving a strangled sound more like a man in pain than ecstasy, and his cum filled Cal’s mouth and throat. Cal swallowed quick, hard. His own need was suddenly urgent, and he had to be done with Mitch and let Mitch finish him off.

“Cal, my God,” Mitch whispered hoarsely. He withdrew, and Cal let his cock slip out. His knees sagged, and Cal stood quick to take him in his arms. Mitch was heavy, and Cal staggered back to sit on his cot, pulling Mitch down to sit beside him.

“Mitch,” he begged. “Touch me.”

Mitch opened his eyes, which were still hazy with satisfaction. “Mmm?”

Cal kissed the inviting mouth, as it curled up in a delicious, satisfied smile. Since words were not getting through, he grabbed one of Mitch’s hands and pressed it over his cock. That woke Mitch up, all right.

“Sorry,” Mitch said. “You just…well, just about put me in a coma, actually.” Cal grinned and kissed him again. Yeah, he was good. After a second, Mitch pressed him onto the cot on his back. He leaned over Cal and started kissing his bare chest, moving down to his belly, heading in the right direction. Cal moaned and pushed against him. In a swift movement, Mitch pulled Cal’s shorts down, and Cal’s cock popped up eagerly.

“Wait,” Cal said. “You should use a condom.”

Mitch hesitated. “Um…is there something you need to tell me?”

“No. Not that. I’m negative for everything. The doc checked me. But the zombie bite…”

“Cal, you don’t have the disease. You’ve got antibodies to it, that’s all.”

“You don’t even know what antibodies are, do you?”

“Hey, I saw
Fantastic Voyage
.” Mitch grinned. Cal slapped his arm. “I’m not going to become a zombie from sucking your cock.” He took hold of said cock in one big, strong hand. Giving Cal no more time to protest, Mitch slipped off the cot onto his knees, leaned over Cal, and took his cock in.

Cal let his legs fall farther open as his body shivered and then relaxed, all the tension leaving him. Only remembering this might be the last time spoiled the moment at all. It would be a dream if he could make Mitch leave with him. But he knew it was no more than a dream. Mitch still called himself a cop, but he was much more. A guardian, taking care of this group, of these women and children. And he’d never abandon them, not by choice. So when Cal left—whether it was tomorrow or some unknown time later—he’d go alone.

Cal came quickly, with little fuss, already close before Mitch started to suck him. A shudder and his fist knotted at the back of Mitch’s neck, pulling on his collar. The room spun into a gray blur, and he closed his eyes, dizzy, as his climax ebbed.

He came back to himself still lying on the cot, Mitch sitting on the floor beside it, one arm stretched across Cal, gently stroking Cal’s side with the tips of his fingers.

“That was good,” Cal sighed out. “You’re good.” He wasn’t as good as Cal, but he’d never had to be, had he?

“You don’t have to butter me up,” Mitch said. “You can come on the mission.”

Cal didn’t respond for a moment, not sure how to. Part of him had hoped Mitch would say no, take the choice out of Cal’s hands. But no. Cal would go ashore, and at some point he had to decide for sure—did he stay there?

“Thanks,” he said after a while. “That wasn’t why I jumped you.”

“I know.” Mitch sounded rather unconvinced, and he’d be right to be so. But there was always a good reason to jump Mitch. And once again, Cal remembered this might be the last time. “Come on.” Mitch stood, and Cal felt cold at the loss of that strong arm across his body. “We need to get cleaned up and eat. Then we have to rest, ready to get out of here before the sun comes up.” He gave Cal a stern glare. “And I mean rest, not sex.”

“Spoilsport.”

Chapter Twelve

“So how come we’re going to a naval base and not a hospital?” Cal asked as the boat sped up the coast. “Surely that’s where to find drugs?”

Mitch glanced away from the helm to Cal for a second. The girls were behind them, sitting on the deck, checking over the guns one last time, and studying a map.

“You’d think so, but Bren taught me different. Most of the hospitals have been stripped by now. If they haven’t, it’s because they are too full of zombies for anyone but an army to get into.”

When people started getting sick back when it all started, they’d gone to the hospitals. They crammed in there and died and then came back. Some fanned out, looking for more victims, but many still trudged the corridors of hospitals, and the prey came to them. When Cal had needed to get himself some medical supplies while out on his own, he’d usually raided small clinics or doctors’ offices and given big hospitals a wide berth.

“And though hospitals have stores of drugs,” Mitch went on, “they didn’t store them long term. They had regular deliveries and used them up in a short time. The military, on the other hand, put supplies of drugs into long-term storage facilities for possible later use. Their storage is actually better, more ideal conditions, than hospitals.”

“Well, I learn something new every day.” He’d have to remember it for later. If he went off on his own. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d decided to stay around in order to learn. He hadn’t got everything useful yet, surely? But he had to weigh what else he might learn against RPGs whizzing by his head. Those had not been part of the deal.

“Coming up on the shore,” Mitch called back to the rest of the team. “Everyone get ready.” He looked at Cal. “You too.”

Cal went to collect up his gear and saw Mitch looking at him as he took supplies out of his pack. It was the same pack he’d arrived with. Everyone else carried small packs, with no more than they needed for the mission, but Cal’s pack was full. Did Mitch read Cal’s intentions into that? If he did, he said nothing about it. He didn’t have to worry about this mission, at least. Cal had volunteered, and he’d help them get their drugs before he went. If he went. He put the supplies he needed into his pockets, closed the heavy pack up again, and left it stowed under a bench on the
Cora
’s deck.

“Two minutes,” Mitch called. “No sign of movement at the quay.”

But the place was a maze, Cal saw, taking a look at the quay where they were drawing up, with crates and vehicles abandoned haphazardly. Plenty of cover for zombies to hide. Or rather, be concealed by. They never actually hid in a conscious way, the way a human would. They were simply hidden inadvertently by other things.

The
Cora
drew up by a rusting ladder, and Mitch grabbed a mooring rope and scaled the ladder quickly to tie the boat up. Cal followed him up fast, not liking the idea of him being on his own for even a second longer than needed. Mitch made the boat secure while Cal covered him, watching out for any movement. Nothing.

“Come on up, the rest of you,” Mitch called. “Bring the ignition keys.” He smiled at Cal. “Hate to have someone steal your boat.” Cal wondered if “someone” included himself. Surely Mitch didn’t believe Cal would abandon them ashore?

The women climbed the ladder to the quay. Tiffany handed the boat keys to Mitch, who put them in a zipped pocket on his jacket. Cal didn’t care. There were plenty of boats around here. And cars. Maybe he’d stick to the land anyway. He was more comfortable there. His last boat trip had not worked out so well.

Unless he counted maybe getting cured of the zombie disease and meeting Mitch.

“Let’s go,” Mitch said. “Elaine, take point. I’ll take the rear. Cal, stay in the middle.”

Cal bristled a bit, male pride rather wounded. But he was the least experienced here when it came to these military-style maneuvers, so he nodded and took his place, and the group set out, single file. Elaine, a former receptionist from Michigan, was sharp, covering every danger point as they passed it. Crates, cars, and trucks. Open doorways into sheds and warehouses.

But they met no danger on the way into the base proper. In the distance some dogs barked, too far off to worry about. The group walked along wide boulevards, following a route Mitch and the women apparently knew well, until they reached a low building Mitch said led to the underground storage area. But that was where their luck ran out.

“Fuck.” Elaine waved them back as she checked around a corner on the approach to the building. She spoke quietly. “Zombies. At the front of the building? At least twenty of them.”

The group bunched up, but Natalie and Blanca kept the flank and the rear covered in case anything sneaked up on them.

“It’s the only way in, so we’ll have to clear them,” Mitch said.

“What if there are others in the area?” Cal asked, looking around nervously. As soon as they started firing, the zombies would advance on the group, not caring about the gunfire. Stepping over the bodies of the already finished ones on the ground. “The gunfire is just going to attract every zombie for miles around.” He didn’t like the idea of coming out of the storage facility to find it surrounded by a new horde of zombies. He really wished he’d had the good sense to stay on the rig. But he was here now. Had to live up to his promises.

“One person will stay on the roof of the building while we’re inside,” Mitch said. “If there are others, they’ll come one by one and can be picked off easily.”

“What if it’s not one by one? What if it’s a mass of them?” Cal asked.

“Then we’re fucked,” Blanca said.

“No,” Mitch said. “We’ve always got grenades, and it’s not only drugs stored in there. It’s ammo. The building is fortified and has roof access. We can pick off a thousand zombies if we have to. Now let’s get this done. Remember, the fresher ones move faster. Shoot them first if you can. Pick targets. Kill and move on.”

On Mitch’s signal, they emerged from the side of the building, fanning out. It took the zombies a second to notice them as they moved silently over grass. By the time the mass of zombies saw the group, the soldiers were already firing.

Head shot after head shot. Down they went. Cal made a couple of bad shots to start with, catching them uselessly in the shoulder or chest. But he got himself under control, breathing slowing, heart not racing so fast, and his aim improved. A shot to the head and the zombie in his sights went down.

He sighted on another one and froze. “Shit.” He knew the man. Or rather, the man the creature had once been. One of the group who’d tried to stop him from leaving when he wanted to part ways with them. They’d been heading in this direction. Had they tried to raid this base and met their ends?

“Cal! Keep firing!” Mitch ordered. Cal snapped back to the here and now. He fired and put the person he’d once known out of his misery. Well, they’d been bastards anyway. He sighted on the next and the next. Some of the faces he knew, some he didn’t. He didn’t let the former slow him down anymore.

Within a couple of minutes all the zombies lay scattered across the ground, brains spread over the tarmac. Nothing left to shoot. Cal lowered his rifle with a sigh. Mitch appeared at his side, a small frown on his face as they moved toward the building, skirting the destroyed zombies on the ground.