Patient Z (9 page)

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Authors: Becky Black

Tags: #LGBT, #Paranormal, #Zombie Apocalypse

BOOK: Patient Z
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Bren turned back to Mitch, concern in her eyes. “The dreams?” She knew about them because when they first met and started traveling together, he’d been having them almost every night. He’d felt emasculated the first time he’d woken with her soothing him, rocking him like a child. But she’d never treated him as less of a man in the daytime because of it. Everyone had nightmares in this new world. He’d held her and soothed away her nightmares many times too. He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yes. A dream. But it’s okay. I wasn’t alone.” She’d worried about him being alone with the dreams when they arrived here and he started living in this room. She hadn’t let him lock the door for the first couple of months.

“Yeah.” She grimaced. “I should have thought of that and left you two alone. Guess I was just worried about you.” She rested a hand on his arm, and he reached over and covered it with his.

“Thanks, Bren.” She made him calm as she always did. Cal had woken Mitch, brought him back to reality, but had not made him calm, only stirred him up in a different way. A way he didn’t dare indulge in. Because Cal had said it himself. One day he’d be gone. And if Mitch let himself get involved, Cal would take Mitch’s heart with him. Because it could not be
just sex
. It could be
just sex
with a man you met in a sauna or a club and spent an hour or a night with and never saw again. But not with a man you saw every day and who shared your room.

“Okay,” Bren said, turning away. “It’s okay now,” she said in a soft voice to Inez. “They’re fine. There’s no danger. We’re safe.”

Mitch closed the door. He took a shaky breath and turned around. Cal was still lying on Mitch’s cot, looking impatient. He had one hand resting on the front of his bulging shorts, the thumb stroking up and down. Mitch swallowed hard. So easy to go over there. Take up where they left off. Let Cal give him a peaceful sleep for the rest of the night. But Mitch had stopped taking the easy path long ago. He grabbed his pants from their hook on the wall and put them on.

“I’m going on deck for some air,” he said. He picked up a pair of sneakers. Better for, well, sneaking around quietly without waking people up with his boots on the metal decks and walkways.

Cal sat up, the impatient look turning into an angry one. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re just going to walk away from me, after—”

“I led you on. I apologize.” He didn’t stay for an argument, left the room, laces trailing, and only stopped to tie them outside.

* * * *

Mitch, Bren, and Cal went out in Cal’s boat—the
Cora
—the next morning.

Cal had been back on his cot and asleep by the time Mitch returned a couple of hours after running away. Mitch had passed the time prowling the rig, exchanging a few words with the women on watch, and then going up to the helipad and sitting in the middle of it, right where in his dream he’d been ready to end everything.

Cal paid attention to their instructions as they taught him about the boat, but his attitude could only be described as surly, Mitch thought. Bren, either not noticing or not caring about his sulking, took him through bringing the boat in close to the rig over and over, until he could maneuver close without crashing.

When the sun got high, the day warm for the time of year, Bren went up the ladder to the rig, saying she’d go bring lunch down. Mitch and Cal went below decks and set the table in the galley for three people. Cal worked in silence, and the longer this went on, the more ticked off Mitch got.

“I don’t care about you sulking at me,” Mitch said. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d modify your attitude to Bren.”

“Oh, you’d appreciate that, huh?” Cal replied, voice mild but strained.

“She didn’t…” He wanted to say “cock block,” a stupid expression Dex had liked to use. But he refrained. “Interrupt us deliberately. Don’t punish her for it.”

“Like she cares what I think. Like any of you care.”

“Now you just sound like a teenager.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Cal said, not responding to the gibe. “Maybe I’ll come and sleep on this boat. So I’m not tempting you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s my boat. Maybe now that I know how to sail it, I’ll just fuck the hell off. Will that make you happy?” The mild tone slipped, anger coming through.

“Cal!” Mitch stared at him, at his flushed face and anger, but yes, his distress too.

“Christ.” Cal ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. It’s making me edgy. And the frustration. I can’t deny it. It was okay when I was out there alone; I didn’t really think about it much. There was usually nobody around to fuck, so there was no reason to get wound up. But now you’re everywhere I look.”

“God, Cal, I’m not that great a catch,” Mitch said. “Don’t drive yourself crazy over me.”

Cal laughed shortly. “Don’t flatter yourself. Any warm body with all his own teeth would give me a boner right now.”

They heard the sound of feet thumping to the deck above and Bren calling out that she was back with lunch. Cal glared up through the hatch.

“I like that woman, but her timing sucks.”

 

MITCH AND BREN left Cal cleaning up the galley after they ate—his boat, his job, Mitch said, giving him a meaningful look and hoping his ridiculous idea about coming to sleep down here had only been talk.

“Everything okay?” Bren asked as they climbed to the wheelhouse. “You and Cal both seem tense.”

“Just tired. Broken sleep, you know.”

“Yeah. Look, about last night, I’m sorry I busted in on you like that.”

“It was probably a good thing you did.”

She gave him a speculative look, but he said no more.

“I was worried you two had had a lovers’ tiff,” she said, with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Knock it off.” They were silent for a moment, but then he went on. “He’s still on probation. He could leave or be thrown out anytime. What’s the point in getting involved with someone who could be gone tomorrow?”

“So don’t get involved,” she said. “Screw his brains out and shake hands as friends. That’s what I’d do.”

“Bren, I hate to say it, but that didn’t work out so well with Ethan.”

“Ethan was a jerk,” she said quickly. “Cal’s not a jerk. No more than usual for a guy anyway.”

“How do you know he’s not?”

“I’m a chick. I’ve got that feminine-intuition thing. Which I guess didn’t work on Ethan…” She shrugged. “Sorry. It’s none of my business. But you know I just want to see you happy. And you keep talking about Cal leaving, but maybe if you were involved with him, he’d be more likely to stay.”

A sound behind them silenced her. Cal appeared at the top of the ladder. The sunlight was behind him, making a halo of his hair, and Mitch almost gasped at the sight. He was so used to seeing Cal in the dim lighting of the rig. To see him in sunshine was stunning.

“Ready for the afternoon session?” Bren asked.

Cal gave her smile, looking a lot friendlier than he had before lunch. “Raring to go, ma’am.”

“I do like a man who lets me boss him around. Come on, we’re going to take a look at the engine. You need to learn how to repair it.” She turned to Mitch. “Take us two hundred yards from the rig, please, Mitch.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” he said, giving her a clumsy salute. Cal smiled. The sun caught the laughter in his eyes.

* * * *

Damn, the doctor was
in
. Mitch had hoped he’d be able to slip in and out of the infirmary without being seen, but Phyllis was working. She was looking down a microscope and writing in a notebook.

“Good evening, Mitch,” she said, looking up as the door opened. “What can I do for you?”

“Ah. Hello. You’re working late. It’s almost ten o’clock. Working on the vaccine?”

She nodded. “Always.”

“Good. Good. I, ah…” This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, and she was a doctor. He’d known enough doctors in his time to know you couldn’t shock them. “I wondered, um, I believe you have some, ah, some protection down here.”

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Protection from what?”

Mitch blushed furiously. “Condoms,” he muttered. “I was looking for condoms.”

“Ah!” Phyllis chuckled and slid off her chair. She opened a drawer and took out a few small boxes. She looked at the packs and sighed. “Once these and all the ones ashore expire, there’s no way to get more.” She handed them to Mitch. “Make the most of them while you’ve got ’em.”

“Thanks.” He slipped them into his pocket. He supposed he could ask her if she’d checked Cal for infections other than the zombie virus, but she’d just cite patient confidentiality. Best to take care.

“And don’t forget…” She opened another drawer and handed him a tube of KY. Entirely mortified, he muttered another “Thanks” and put that in his pocket. “Feel free to pop in and take the condoms anytime you need to,” she said. “You don’t have to ask.”

That was what he’d been planning to do if she hadn’t been working late. He didn’t much like broadcasting details of his private life, even to the doctor.

“And I have to say I’m impressed if you’ve already gone through the ones Cal picked up a few days ago.”

“Cal picked some up?” He must have gone for them before he came and asked Mitch for sex. Well, at least the man thought ahead.

“He wasn’t nearly as shy about asking for them as you,” she said. Mitch would just bet.

“No, ah, I didn’t realize he’d been for some. We haven’t…” He stopped, sure his
hair
was blushing at this point.

“We’ve got group tomorrow morning,” she said. “If you wanted to come along. Or talk one-to-one. I heard about last night. If the dreams are bothering you again—”

“I’m fine,” Mitch said quickly. “And, um, I’m busy tomorrow morning.”

“All right. But you’re always welcome.” She smiled a bit knowingly. “But perhaps now that you have Cal, you’ll sleep better.”

“Yes, ah, thanks again. I’ll let you get on with your work.” He fled. Doctor she might be, but having a little old lady knowing so much about his sex life was too embarrassing.

Sex life—hah! As of this moment he didn’t have one. How could he be sure Cal would want to help him change that? Maybe he’d taken Mitch’s no as the final word on the matter.

No, he was sure Cal would accept Mitch’s change of mind. He was as frustrated as Mitch. But he wouldn’t trust Mitch, would he? Might expect him to back off at any moment. He might well be right. Mitch could not afford to let his emotions get involved here. This was for physical release, nothing more. Get too invested in Cal, and it would bias his vote at the end of the trial period. He’d vote with his heart and his cock, not with his head. And if Mitch let himself care for Cal and Cal had to leave, or chose to leave, then Mitch didn’t think his heart could stand it. It was held together with little more than crazy glue.

His weakness infuriated him—that he’d given in to the physical urges. He could only hope he had more control over his emotions. Otherwise he might as well give up on everything he claimed to stand for.

Mitch reached the door to their room. It was ajar and the light on inside. Cal was home. Mitch took a deep breath and stepped in.

Chapter Nine

Cal looked up from where he was reading on his cot as the door opened. It was Mitch, looking damn nervous and sweaty about something. Cal said, “Hey,” and looked down at his book again. Explosives. Homework from Bren. She’d said there would be a test next time. He looked up again when he heard Mitch draw the bolts across the door.

“Cal, ah…” Mitch stopped and laughed awkwardly. “Are you free for a couple of hours?”

Cal froze as Mitch echoed the words he’d said only a few days ago. Was this mockery? Or was Mitch trying to be charming and failing? Cal put his book down and sat up slowly on the side of the cot.

“Sure,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Mitch looked flustered, like he hadn’t expected Cal to go along with the joke. “Ah…have sex with me.” Mitch’s grin turned sickly. Did he fear he’d taken the joke too far and was now only annoying Cal? He kind of was.

“What makes you think I still want that?” Cal asked.

“What, you got a better offer in the meantime?” Ah, that was more the familiar Mitch. Irritation, impatience coming through.

“Maybe I took a vow of celibacy.”

“I’ve never known any man to keep that vow.”

Cynical. Poor Mitch, the romantic with cynicism beaten into him by life. Cal shook himself.
Okay, let’s not be feeling quite so sorry for the cock-teasing
cop
who still sometimes looks at me like he expects me to start biting people at any moment.

But there was no better offer on the table. Aside from Mitch and himself, the only other males aboard were all under the age of twelve. Cal didn’t think he’d be sticking around long enough for them to grow up.

“Okay.” He pulled his shirt off over his head. Mitch gaped. Like he didn’t expect it to be so easy? Or he didn’t expect Cal to be so matter-of-fact about it? What did he want? Champagne, strawberries, and rose petals on the bed? This wasn’t a seduction. This was…no, not a business arrangement. Not like the old days. This was a personal exchange for mutual benefit. They were not becoming lovers but fuck buddies. He’d never had either, really, never staying in one place long enough for anything to develop that far. He undid his pants while Mitch continued to stare.

“The usual practice is to get naked,” Cal said. “I hope you don’t need too much basic instruction.” Mitch shook himself and started to fumble at his belt buckle. A mistake since he still had his shoes on, while Cal already had bare feet. Cal shed his pants quickly, taking his shorts with them. The chilly room made his bare skin rise in goose bumps. Never mind. Mitch would soon warm him up.

He lay back down on the cot, raised one hand behind his head, and watched Mitch scrambling clumsily out of his clothes. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, amused. “I promise not to start without you.”

Mitch came over to the cot slowly, shedding clothes at random, like a tree dropping leaves in autumn winds. He arrived still wearing his boxers, which were under some considerable strain. Cal grinned and sat up. He leaned in to lick Mitch’s hard, flat abs. God, they were like stone. He’d obviously been working out his sexual frustration through exercise before Cal arrived. Cal flicked his tongue into the navel, tickling, being tickled by the coarse hair making a treasure trail down into the waistband of the shorts.

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