Zombies - A Love Story Ch. 21byAsylumSeeker©
Moose was pretty angry about being betrayed by the three grunts he'd allowed to join his gang. It had always been a tenuous relationship at best, neither trusting the other, but he figured as long as they proved themselves to be useful then he was willing to put up with the shared sense of distrust.
But betrayal didn't sit well. It burned inside of him with a rage, and once he tracked down Sherry his anger was vented in a violent outburst. Before the dust had even settled he walked into the warehouse where the others were pouring out of to investigate what had exploded. He found her sitting on a couch drinking down a beer acting as if nothing at all had just happened, looking pretty drunk as she watched a Blu-Ray movie as her head bobbed helplessly from side to side.
"Bitch, your ass is mine!" he snarled as he approached her from behind, his right hand grasping a handful of hair as he pulled her toward him over the back of the couch.
"Ow!" she cried out in confusion as her body had no choice but to follow in the direction where her head was being forcefully pulled, arms and legs flailing. "Wh-What is it? M-M-Moose?" she stuttered in a weak, slurred voice.
He turned his head back to look at her, noting how nice she appeared dressed in the thin white silk spaghetti-strap halter that left her smooth belly exposed, and the faded blue denim shorts which revealed her shapely legs. Her otherwise cute face was distraught with fear while her eyes remained glassy from the effects of the beer that she'd been consuming over the previous few hours.
"You let her go!" he growled.
A questioning expression crossed her face. "Wh-Wh-Who?"
"Wh-Wh-Who?" Moose said mockingly. "Who the fuck do you think? You know, the one I told you to keep an eye on, that's who."
When realization set in her eyes briefly cleared up as they registered a faint grasp of understanding. "Vickie? Sh-Sh-She's gone?"
"Ran off with those three grunts," he spat out hatefully. "I'll find'em, and when I do I'll tear'em all a new asshole. But until then your ass will have to do."
Her fear rapidly intensified because she could tell how mad Moose was, and when he was in a mood like this he was known to seriously hurt people. And with a cock as big as his Sherry knew that he'd very likely hurt her, especially when caught up in a fit of rage as he was at this moment.
"No, please don't," she argued, lifting her hands to her hair trying desperately to free his strong fingers from her thick mane. "No, not this way Moose. Just wait, baby, please."
His patience quickly ran out and he walked outside to join the others, half-dragging her in his wake. Sherry did the best she could to stay on her feet, at least long enough to get outside where he roughly tossed her onto the hard surface of the street that now served as a courtyard.
"Get this bitch naked and tied down on my bike," he demanded of nobody in particular, but the mere harshness of the command prompted several men and women into action.
Moose stood at the front of the crowd perhaps a hundred yards away from the still-burning tanker, watching as a dozen or more leather-clad bikers operated fire extinguishers or used shovels to toss dirt to try and douse the flames. He felt the warmth of the fire against his front, the cooler night air chilling his back by comparison.
"What about the other ones?" the leader asked.
"They're okay, so far anyway," another biker reported. "We shouldn't have a problem finding gas anymore."
Moose decided, "It'll get us to where we need to go."
The long-time biker's interest was piqued; this was the first time he'd ever heard of his leader talk about anything other than to keep moving. "Oh, and where's that?"
A slight contemptuous smile tugged at Moose's lips.
Sherry's familiar screams distracted Moose and he walked towards the source, the crowd parting and allowing him through. He gloated as he saw the brunette naked face up, forearms helplessly tied to the handles of his motorcycle, legs laid open and her most treasured assets exposed, ready to be violated again. The big man couldn't help but grin down at her.
"Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Going for a ride', now don't it?" he announced with a chuckle, the others joining in with a shared laugh, several hoisting up partially consumed cans of beer in a gesture of gang unity.
"Moose, please-" she pleaded one final time, the angry look in his bloodshot eyes immediately cutting her off.
The leader shook his head reproachfully as he extended his right index finger and wagged it left and right several times. "You fucked up and now you're going to pay." And after having spoken these words he straddled the bike and sat down between her widened legs.
Sherry made a feeble attempt at testing the bindings securing her arms to the handlebars which only appeared to humor him as he unleashed his expanding cock. Her body wriggled, perky tits jiggling temptingly, the pink nipples already swollen with unacknowledged female sexual desire.
"You don't want to go running off anywhere," he told her, hands reaching out and squeezing harshly on her firm boobs. "The fun's just starting."
He laughed deeply, well aware that his little slut was as turned on as he was despite acting otherwise. Moving his right hand between her quivering thighs a middle finger plunged into her moistening slit and rubbed directly against her enlarged clit. As much as she despised her own body for being aroused, Sherry's eyes closed and soft moans reluctantly escaped her lips as her hips shamelessly began grinding into the welcome pressure of his probing finger.
"No, Moose, stop!" the smug leader mocked his victim in a whiny, high-pitched rendition of her irritating voice. This appeared to anger her, which amused him to no end.
His finger persistently fingered her clit, stirring her heightening arousal. Within a couple of minutes he had her good and juicy, something easily verified by pushing the same finger into her opening and working it completely inside. Her cute face, reddened and sweaty, contorted in expressions of delight as he manipulated her eager young pussy.
The foreplay had his exposed cock rigid with excitement. Moose filled his left hand with a firm boob and squeezed on it as he plunged the middle finger back and forth within her heated canal, getting the slut worked up. Then his finger withdrew and he guided his large erection to the opening, using his hips to work it inside as she did the same.
"Oh... uh," Sherry weakly cried out as her face constricted from the stinging pain caused by the stretching of her pussy as he forced the walls to widen.
"Come on, take it like the slut you are," he demanded and thrust forward with increased strength.
Arms helplessly strapped down she had no choice but to take whatever he did to her. Trying to minimize her own discomfort Sherry rapidly shifted her hips and pelvis as his massive erection plowed its way into her significantly smaller opening. With her heart racing and breathing ragged from the strenuous effort she felt the throbbing organ inching deeper as it forced its way inside.
"Ah! Uh! No, I can't," she complained, knowing that she could as she'd done it before but not wanting to give him the pleasure he sought without resisting in some form.
While much of the gathered crowd's interest returned to the still-burning tanker, a few lingered close by to watch the erotic sex-play unfold. Moose didn't mind much -- the gang had been very open lately, sharing almost everything and went about life's business in full view of the others.
"How about a few of you helping us put this thing out?" a call went out for assistance by one of the bikers who'd been busily engaged in dousing the stubborn, gas-fueled flames as he grew weary from his efforts.
Oblivious of the people rushing about the courtyard Moose continued to ram his cock in and out of Sherry's tight, juicy cunt. Every inward thrust went slightly deeper until she'd noisily taken all of him, her verbal protests falling on deaf ears as he savored the intense sensations of tingling delight surging through his testicles and lower abdomen.
He leaned forward, placed his strong hands on the handlebars over her wrists for support and started fucking her good and hard. She shuddered half-beneath his forward-leaning body as his pulsating shaft penetrated fully into her pussy. The initial stinging pain had ebbed some and now, although still sore, this had transitioned into feelings of undeniable delight that melted her loins.
As she gazed into the night sky high above and looked at the distant stars Sherry felt insignificant. The whole world at this point seemed insignificant to her, along with the misery her life had become. Closing her eyes to chase away the depressing thought she instead focused on the feeling of her hard nipples as they strained with excitement, the heat in her lower torso that resulted from Moose's cock being driven relentlessly in and out of her slick sex.
Once Sherry's resistance dissipated her tensed body relaxed and her tight cunt loosened. He noticed she was nice and wet now. His massive cock was thoroughly soaked and he pumped into her completely, her body taking him more easily. She was getting more involved in the erotic embrace, working her hips and pelvis just as rapidly as he was stroking her sex. The sharp, hesitant, pained moans of earlier were now replaced by louder cries of delight as her body gave in to the sensations of pleasure being experienced.
Moose closed his eyes and had no difficulty imagining himself on the road, wind whipping past him, leading over a hundred bikers -- most of whom would succumb to the illness that decimated the world. This memory brought to him a sense of happiness and pride as his hips drove forward at a rhythmic pace, cock spearing into Sherry's slick, heated cunt. He relished the tingling pressure he felt in his aching testes and tensed lower abdomen, his male arousal slowly heightening.
Sherry's excitement peaked more quickly. After several minutes of having Moose's big cock moving rapidly within her sensitive region, titillating her swollen clit with each jarring collision of their bodies, her ecstasy was achieved. And when it did her wildly gyrating body briefly went rigid, a loud cry went out, and what followed were the orgasmic convulsions of sheer pleasure. Moose held on and gave her what she needed, while also getting closer to his own release.
It wasn't much longer before the leader's arousal intensified. He grunted aloud as his climax was reached, balls spewing forth steadily flowing ropes of thick cum for the brief time it lasted. No sooner than it was completed he dismounted the bike, uncaring of her helpless predicament as his cum began to leak from her opening.
"Enjoy her," he said to a few of the others still watching the diminishing fire.
The compound which the grunts had so hastily abandoned turned out to be a gold mine for the gang. In addition to finding a large freezer still stocked with a variety of frozen foods, they also located a stash of beer cases. After the big party on the night the grunts took off, they passed the days and evenings eating, drinking, fucking the four women they still had in their possession, and watching all kinds of high-definition movies.
Five of the eight tankers were still intact and held a reserve of fuel the likes of which they could only have dreamed about up to this point. The compound offered all of the amenities any survivor could have possibly wanted, and the gang decided to occupy it until the food ran out or they got bored. As it turned out it became their home for the next five weeks, much longer than even Moose had anticipated.
The three prisoners the grunts had left behind were roughed up and quick to answer any questions asked of them. In the end Moose released them, put them into a car with a full tank of gas and warned them that if they ever tried to come back it would be the last thing they ever did. They were never seen again.
It wasn't long before word started to spread about the new owners of the compound. One by one survivors began showing up to barter for the precious fuel the tankers contained. Moose kept two in reserve with plans of leaving with them, using what remained to keep the commercial-grade generators going.
In some cases he gave gas away with the promise to spread word that the gang was looking for new members, other times in exchange for beer, whiskey, even drugs. It wasn't long before volunteers began arriving, trickling in one or two a day.
Taking note of the swelling ranks Moose hand-picked his best bikers to train them and weed out the weak from those who were strong and determined to become full members. Even some women showed up, willing to make sex slaves of themselves in return for the safety, security and emotional support that the gang culture could provide them with in a world that had otherwise grown cold and ominous.
Moose awoke one morning to the sounds of generators and loud whirring and grinding noises. Across the street in one of the buildings nestled within the compound, some of the others had discovered a machine shop. While bullets and bombs might be short in supply, melee weapons required only strength and dexterity. And while staring at the barrel end of a handgun or rifle was frightening, scarier still was to see trained warriors wielding wicked weapons of unimaginable carnage approaching.
Limited only by their twisted imaginations the bikers and potential recruits began creating frightening weapons of the most grisly kind. A motorcycle drive chain was welded to a one-inch thick, twelve-inch long steel pipe that served as a handle. Another one-inch pipe, three feet long, had four-inch long bolts threaded through one end of it. If it did ever hit anyone not only would the impact of the pipe itself shatter bones, but the threads of the penetrating bolts would rip the flesh and muscle from the body.
For days this went on, weapon after grisly weapon being created, laughter from the wickedness of their creations echoing through the building. In the late afternoons their cruel creations were tested, initially on what amounted to telephone pole-like beams of wood partially buried so they would not be toppled, the wood shredded to varying degrees by the viciousness of the savage attacks. But it wasn't long before the desire for blood, for the pained screams of wounded victims, intensified.
It was at this time of the rise of evil, at sunset, when a man who would later earn the nickname Tank, arrived. He was a large, heavily muscled black man, the leathered skin marked with amateur tattoos typically seen in the American prison system. There were pentagrams, indistinguishable words, and strange symbols. Tank was even larger and stronger than Moose himself, a fact that was not lost on the others.
Tank, a mute, was eagerly invited inside the compound by several bikers who guarded the entrance. Not long after they all ate cooked meat and vegetables the hearty appetite of the new arrival became evident. Women stole side-long glances of the big man as the men tried guessing his mysterious past, rewarded by gestures of confirmation when they were right. In some cases bets were made and goods traded hands.
Although the new arrival either could not or did not speak he was not dumb, and would prove to be a clever foe. A natural charisma attracted others to him like flies to honey, to his shimmering dark skin, to his wide, smiling white eyes. It wasn't long before Moose took notice of this and began to bristle with jealousy. As much as Moose desired this new warrior to leave, he also realized that a confrontation would put his very leadership to a test he was uncertain of winning.
Keeping his guard up Moose observed Tank from a distance, noting that he preferred to associate with his most experienced bikers who occupied supporting roles of leadership. It didn't take long for the newcomer to worm his way into this elite inner circle, something a recruit would have never attempted, especially not on a footing equal to them. Could the others not see what was happening?
He bided his time until he managed to corner Nate, his second-in-command who was overseeing the training.
"What's the story with this Tank guy?" Moose questioned.
Nate, another biker adorned with many faded color tattoos on his upper and lower arms with shoulder-length sandy hair, shrugged his shoulders. He was tall and lanky and had proven himself in battle with rival gangs, displaying no fear when faced by others armed with knives, bats, and even guns.
"Doesn't talk," he reported, unsure how much Moose knew of the large black man. "Can't. Or so he says, and I have no reason not to believe him. Seen some action. Been jumped by other survivors along the way. Strong as an ox and quick too. Comes from the east coast. Now he's just a drifter like us. Spent some time in Attica prison after being wrongfully convicted. Very rough place to be."
Moose snickered. "Yeah, the prisons are full are self-professed innocent men. They can be funny like that. You believe him?"
It was Nate's turn to laugh. "Hell no. You seen him. I'll bet he has an evil streak a mile wide."
"That's what worries me," the leader admitted in a hushed whisper. "Question is, what do we do about him? Keep a close eye on that one, he might decide to challenge me, take control of the gang. I don't trust him one bit. Let me know if he starts hinting around about a mutiny."
"I don't trust the big bastard either. I'll put the others on alert too," Nate said with a cautious glance back over one shoulder to ensure they still had privacy. "He's too damn slick. If he even thinks about it I'll slit his throat. Big men go down hard, but they still go down."
"Thanks," Moose gratefully acknowledged his support. "How's the training going?"
"Guys are getting tired beating up on telephone poles, want some real action. I'll put Tank in there, see how they fare in a fight against him. I'll make sure he goes easy on'em. No broken bones. But I think he'll whip'em into real shape."
"Or they'll put a hurting on him, which would be just fine with me too," Moose added. "Do what you need to in order to build a cohesive gang that'll be capable of waging war. Something tells me we'll be in a serious battle in a few months with a reward the likes of which none of us could have ever imagined was possible after the bug hit."
Nate knew better than to press Moose for more information. If it wasn't offered, he didn't dig. "I'll do the best I can."
Moose nodded and gave one shoulder a friendly, reassuring squeeze. "All I can ask, buddy."
The women got together and cooked dinner consisting of chicken breasts, sweet peas and corn. Due to the growing numbers of the gang and the small cooking area the men had to eat in shifts. Moose waited, seeing to it his men ate first. A short while later he spotted Tank sitting on a grassy area beside several women, Sherry being one of them, the other three newer arrivals. Tank appeared quite happy as he exchanged hand gestures with the brunette.
Moose stopped one of the others. "What's going on there?" he asked.
"Sherry knows sign language. Him too I guess. They're just talking is all."
Just talking, the leader thought to himself as the hackles on the back of his neck rose up. Maybe I'm just being paranoid but I think it's more than that.
In an act of frustration Moose pushed the man away and walked off, intent on tracking Sherry down later to find out exactly what was going on.
Once the troops had eaten they gathered into various smaller groups. Some went to the entertainment center to watch movies, others wielded bows and arrows or crossbows and bolts to practice their skills using bails of hay set up for this purpose, as others returned to the machine shop to continue their quest to produce the most frightening weapons their minds could conceive of.