Apocalypse Z Ch. 03

Tina was on her hands and knees. This was not unusual.

Malachi had his slim arms wrapped around her waist. One knee was pressed to the ground, his other leg bent for him to half-kneel. He hammered his waist into her buttocks, slamming the thick head of his cock into her cervix with every rocking thrust.

Tina cast a tired look to her side. Paloma was being raped on a picnic table. She wore just a bikini top, her panties dangling over one ankle. The silver-haired girl's arms were sprawled and her head was tilted up to the sky, and Tina watched impassively as Kenneth's thick cock rammed in and out of her pink pussy.

Malachi's own cock was pummeling Tina's insides. She felt like her womb had been battered to a pulp by so many rapes--at least, she hoped it had. Anything to prevent the men from getting the children that they desperately wanted.

Malachi's cock throbbed and his hips sped up, fingernails digging bruises into her hips. "Motherfuck," he hissed.

Paloma whined. Kenneth was pinching her nipples, a cruel, almost teasing look on his face.

She heard the dead hiss of Julian's voice in her ear. "If you start bearing children, we won't have to do this anymore. You'll have a permanent home with us. But if you prove infertile, then we'll sell you off to another hungry group of men desperate to secure the survival of our species. And maybe if our semen can't bubble into your womb and conceive the next generation-they'll fuck you so much harder and so much longer, maybe they will."

Her dull, deadened mind barely internalized the threat. It was swept away like every other guttural threat or taunt they had tormented her with since she fell into their clutches.

She wished she hadn't.

On her periphery vision, Tina saw the other men half-standing guard, half-waiting their turn, rifles aimed at the ground. Behind them the truck sat, waiting for them to finish their stop and continue on down the road.

***

One day, when the sun was dimming and the chill of autumn swept the tangled fields of weeds, they met with more people.

Tina could not tell what day it was. She wasn't even sure if the months had changed to years--it always seemed perpetually cold, since the world had ended in mid-spring. Paloma was sleeping in the bed of the truck with a quilt over her, and Tina was sitting on the edge, trying to patch a jacket Kenneth often wore.

The bitter smell of smoke was wafting through the air as a cigarette dangled out of Wayne's mouth. "--have to find somewhere to hole up," he said. "I can feel it getting colder."

"Shit. We may have to make our way down south."

"Who knows? May be better to stay here. The cold might kill off the zombies."

Tina pricked her finger with the needle and cursed. She heard a distant hum in the distance.

"My dad owned a big home in Key West. I got the keys to it. We could easily hunker down in it."

"Wayne, you fuckin moron, how the hell are we gonna get to Key West? It's a god damn island."

"Hey, it's just a suggestion. My dad used to--"

Wayne's voice trailed off as his eyes found something further up the road. The hum was so loud it was impossible to ignore it.

With a jolt the truck stopped, and the men jumped off, aiming their guns. Halfway excited, halfway scared, Paloma and Tina looked over the top of the truck, every molecule of their body preparing to flee as their men lined up with the other men, aiming their rifles at each other.

The still, cold autumn air was frozen, beams of white sunlight glinting off the gun barrels. Two lines of men were standing in front of several beaten-up cars and trucks, bodies wary and defensive. Kenneth had stepped forward, holding his arms out to keep his men back. He was speaking with what looked to be the leader of the other men, an older man with a hard face and salt-and-pepper-hair.

Kenneth looked back and called something, and his men lowered their weapons and flung their rifles back over their shoulders. Wayne turned to Tina and Paloma and motioned the two women down.

***

They were all in front of five large campfires, chatting freely. They cooked food, laughed and joked, and swapped solemn-faced advice, all with their weapons laid to the side. It was a brief allyship, a break in the constant turmoil of post-America--not that it felt like it to Tina and Paloma.

The two women huddled close together at the least-populated fire, near Liam, one of the few men who occasionally seemed to have any sympathy for them. They both warily watched the men who prowled around, their lean faces and hungry eyes following the two women.

"Hey!"

The sudden, high-pitched birdsong of a woman's voice shocked them to the point of completely forgetting about the men. A woman with short, curly hair and a loose lace dress had come from the circle of cars to sit beside them at the fire. Her face was raw with joy, flushed in laughing in a way they could tell had not happened for a long, long time. She had a little baby in her arms, which she cradled to the ripped translucent lace covering her milk-swollen breasts.

"Hi! It's good to see another gal around. Where you from?"

Her cheerful timbre knocked Tina off guard. "We're... from Indianapolis."

"Cool shit! I'm from Chicago. These here your men?"

"If you mean rapists," said Tina acidly, "yes."

The woman flapped her hand. "You'll get used to it. These fellas picked me up when I was running for Michigan. Name's Camille, by the way."

"I'm Tina," said Tina, shaking her hand. She gestured to Paloma, who was still curled up, not saying a word. "She's Paloma."

The baby gurgled, and Camille guided her nipple into its mouth. "You got any kids yet?"

Paloma shivered from beside her. "No. None." She put an arm around her friend and held her close. "Why are you so blasé about this?" Burst out Tina. "These men raped you and forced you to have a baby. This isn't normal. This isn't--you're a god damn sex slave just like we are!"

Camille shrugged and smiled blandly. "Once you start having babies they care less. Let you alone more. Pop out a few kids and settle down somewhere, maybe return to some semblance of normalcy."

"But this isn't normal. Women aren't chattel. To let these--these monsters, these rapist savages--"

"This is the new normal. We gotta get used to it. We ain't going back to who we were--and what we were. We could have it worse. I've seen men that treat their women like cattle. Beat the shit out of them, don't let them get no rest, hit their kids, make 'em work all day, you name it. We're safe where we are. Don't gotta worry about being eaten by a zombie. Got some men to forage, protect us. All we gotta do is do our part. Men are animals. Civilization comes from women. Deprived of that, men revert to their base instincts. Now we gotta bring civilization back."

Her matter-of-fact tone quieted Tina immediately, as did the sense in her words. Although every atom in her mody railed against it, she was right. Men were savages at their core, and this was nothing but human nature, like the horsemen of old burning a village and taking their women as their own. She looked down at the crackling fire.

The men were cooking something that smelled of meat. One of Camille's men came over to her and handed her a slab of meat on a newspaper. She tore it up in pieces and handed some to Tina and Paloma.

It was chewy and burnt, but she ate it anyway. Camille chewed it carefully, and once it was pulped, carefully fed it to her baby, which kicked its fat legs and whined.

"How many other women have you met?" Asked Paloma in a small voice. Tina started. "Have you seen any--any towns? Any cities? Any--"

"Civilization?" Camille laughed bitterly. "Nothin'. Just roving men and a couple women. Then again, we haven't gotten to the real farmland yet. Might be a few families putting down roots and building houses. The way things are, this can't last forever. Eventually the stores are gonna be picked bare and we'll have to grow our own. Then, maybe, things will get better..." Camille looked up at the sky, her round face settling into a wistful mask.

The fire was burning down and blankets were being tossed onto the field. Guards took up their stations at the edges of the group, torches burning and rifles in their arms as they watched out for zombies.

Nicholas pulled Tina into the circle of his strong arms, and pulled her down with her back facing the embers. Julian was fondling Paloma hard, his hands sliding under her dress to pinch her sensitive nipples. Paloma didn't react, even when he pushed her over and mounted her from behind.

Tina mutely spread her legs for Nicholas. The stocky blond ex-soldier had an eight-inch cock, and struggling usually did her pussy more damage than if she lay still and let it slide in. He was incredibly heavy over her, and she could feel twigs bury themselves in her shoulderblades.

The head of his monstrous cock slid into her pussy--easily, she was always wet nowadays, from the semen dumped inside, or from the men pinching between her legs--and started a rhythm. His throbbing length pummeled her cervix, riding her like a filly with every hard thrust he gave inside.

She heard a soft cry from one of the other fires, and looked over to see Camille straddling one of the other men. Her baby was nowhere in sight, and milk dribbled down her chest as the man palmed her breasts. He was jerking upwards, steadily and spasmodically, smashing his heavy waist into her slimmer one. Tina could see his slippery dick emerge from her clenching pussy, then bury itself inside her again.

Paloma was sobbing softly from nearby, but Tina closed her eyes tight. She didn't want to see. She wrapped her arms around Nicholas' broad shoulders for balance as he grasped her legs and pinned them to her shoulders. Her entire body juddered with each earth-shattering thrust, and by the way his cock was pulsing, she knew he was going to unload soon. Sure enough, he began to grunt heavily, his hot breath washing over her neck.

Tina was bent like a hairpin as he slammed into her with renewed vigor, his iron-hard dick stretching her pussy to the max as he reamed her out. When he came, a veritable wave of bubbling cum hit her womb like a tsunami, trickling in in search of her precious eggs. He pulled out, a thick strand of cum connecting the helmet of his cock to her stretched, sperm-filled pussy. He slowly let her go and held her close to him, his huge body still rising and falling with heavy breasts. Tina closed her eyes.

***

The next day was characterized by clinking bottles and forlorn farewells, and men slapping each other on the back.

But there was another curious line, running taut underneath the camaraderie of the men. She could sense it but was not privy to it, and it disturbed her. She knew everything her men talked about, and this seemed far--and deliberately--removed.

"That one is younger, but the older one has wider hips and can bear more easily." The head man of Camille's group pointed to Tina. He was an older man with gray-speckled hair, a lean face and flannel jacket covering a solidly-built body.

Julian dragged her out in vision of the other group. Tina noticed Camille was averting her eyes.

Julian's thick hands stripped her item by item in the thirsty view of the group of fifteen other men. He yanked her blouse down to reveal her full, freckled breasts. He pulled her tight jeans down to show off her thick thighs and the tiny pink panties that covered her quivering, moistening pussy.

Soon those were gone as well, and the men from the other group were lowing and hollering. He tore her pink lacy lingerie down, and her entire succulent body was revealed. He thrust her naked body out like a prize racehorse, and finally, the gray-haired man barked out, "You can have five of our AK-47s, and three cases of ammo."

She realized it was a bid. Her mind jarringly went back to that day in the park, and Julian's hissed threats about selling her off.

Kenneth shook his head in response. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he coolly observed them through venom green eyes like an auctioneer. "You're going to have to offer more than that."

Her whole body was up for sale like an animal at the Indiana County Fair. Men raked their eyes over her thick, childbearing hips, her heavy fertile teats, and they chattered to the gray-haired man, who snarled, "Five of our AK-47s, three cases of ammo, and one of our trucks."

Kenneth shook his head again. "I've seen those things you drive. Half of them look like they're gonna break down. This is a young, healthy woman with a lot of childbearing years ahead of her. I'm not trading her for a couple guns and a rusty shitbox. Her womb's worth its weight in gold, you got anything else worth that?"

A useless sob caught in Tina's throat. Please God. Don't let this happen to me. I don't want to leave Paloma.

The gray-haired man looked back at his men, then back at Kenneth. Then he threw up his hands and turned away, and his men began to pick up their guns and supplies and begin the laborious process of moving on.

Camille was still staring desperately at Tina and Paloma, her brow trembling in despondency as she saw the two women go their separate ways. Her eyes filled with sheer tears as she held her only son against her breast. Tina met her eyes, and felt the yawning distance between them, and knew they would never see each other again.

One of her men clapped Camille on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the forest, opposite the others and where their journey continued. She mutely cast her eyes down on the ground, and slowly started to follow them, still cradling her baby against her shoulder.

***

"Would they really have sold you?" Paloma burst out as they began piling in the trucks. It was the first time she had spoken in quite a while, and her eyes were filled with tears of fear.

"I don't know," said Tina, shivering with the possibilities. "I hope not." She squeezed Paloma's hand.

"Don't worry," said Malachi from behind them, startling her. "I wouldn't let you go, Tina. You're my favorite." He pinched her ass hard, and she turned to glare at him.

"Which way we headed?" She heard Roman ask Kenneth. The olive-skinned man had mostly recovered from his head injury, although he sometimes had migraines that laid him out on the ground groaning. Tina took vicarious pleasure when she saw him rolling around the ground sobbing.

"Kentucky's too mountainous, and winter's setting in. If we make good time we should make it down to the Mississippi Delta for the winter. We'll take the highway this time--the zombies aren't liking the cold either, and it shouldn't be as clogged with them as it was."

"Everyone and their brother's heading down South. What if we come across another group, and they're less friendly than this one?"

Kenneth paused. "We'll deal with that as it comes along. In the meantime, keep one eye open and your finger on the trigger."

Tina helped Paloma into the back seat of the truck. The colder it got, Tina and Paloma were allowed inside the cars while the men froze and complained in the beds of the trucks. Small mercies. There was a ragged carpet in the back seat, and Tina wrapped it around Paloma and herself.

The men in the front seat were Liam and Stefan this time, which made her sigh in relief. Liam was quiet and never bothered them much inside the car, and Stefan was attentive to their needs. Stefan was some sort of Eastern European immigrant, with distinct Slavic cheekbones and narrow, wide-spaced eyes. "You need water back there?" He asked in his stuttering accent.

"No. But I'd sure like a warm coat. It's freezing in here." The men never turned on the car heat for fear of wasting gas.

"Next stop I will look for you one," he promised. She had a feeling he felt bad about the impromptu auction.

Paloma shuddered from beside her. Tina only just managed to roll the window down before she upchucked out the window.

"What's wrong, Paloma?" Liam slowed the car down as she heaved.

"It's that meat we had last night," Tina said hurriedly. "I think it was undercooked. It made me feel sick as a dog too."

Liam cursed under his breath. "Those cocksuckers. I bet they gave us expired meat and kept the good shit for themselves."

Stefan didn't answer, but he cast a suspicious glance backward, and Tina felt uncannily like he suspected something.

***

They stopped at some rest stop tourist center by the edge of a sweeping forest. The peeling paint on the sign said D NIEL BOONE NATI N FOREST.

Sweeping, rocky mountains swept high above them. Tina was a prairie gal and used to flatland, and would have loved to spend her time staring at the amazing wonders of nature, but sightseeing was the last thing on her mind. The men disembarked to go to the restroom and forage, and Tina hopped out to stretch her legs. Paloma was fast asleep in the back seat of the car, and Tina delicately draped the carpet over her slender body.

There was an abandoned car in the parking lot Nicholas and Roman were siphoning gas out of, but the inside of the center was eerily empty. The exhibits were all pillaged or smashed, depending on how useful they were. An array of Native American artifacts were still intact behind glass boxes, and a huge, taxidermied grizzly bear was toppled over in the middle of the floor, its maw gaping and its furry arms outstretched.

Nicholas was slamming the butt of the rifle into a vending machine. Soon it shattered, spitting candy bars and soda on the floor. As the men scrambled to stuff their pockets, Tina snagged a Butterfinger for herself and one for Paloma.

Tina took the stairs upstairs, munching on her candy bar. There was a souvenir shop, and she poked around inside.

A plush deer smiled at her with its threaded mouth, and she gave a fleeting thought, wouldn't Paloma's baby like that? Or even... her hand unconsciously crept over her flat tan tummy before she yanked it away. She was grateful to God her womb wasn't occupied by their foul seed, and she hoped it would stay that way. The idea of carrying a crying, squealing baby along with the scavenging, gang-raping group she was part of made her sick--and the thought that it would soon be Paloma's new reality made her want to cry.

She found a heavy, sturdy fleece coat on one of the racks, and tried it on. It zipped up to her neck, and was perfectly snug. She kicked off her worn leather boots and grabbed a pair of moccasins, which similarly fit her.

There was a sign proclaiming RESTROOM at the back of the store. Tina needed to piss as well, but didn't want to be in the outside restroom with all of the other men with their dicks in their hands, so she gratefully pushed the door in.

Tina froze in place as she caught sight of a human arm draped halfway out of a stall. Her flight-or-fight instinct hit her like a mack truck as the scrambled for the door--then stopped as she realized the arm wasn't moving.

She cautiously approached. As more of the man's body came into sight, she realized he was dead--and not a zombie either. His head had been smashed in with what looked like a tire iron. Had he been caught off guard by another scavenger? His coat was turned inside out, as were his pockets, so she assumed yes.

It was strange how little dead bodies bothered Tina anymore. She pulled his shirt up to check his body for more valuables, and felt inside his belt buckle.

Her fingers touched cold iron.

Tina froze, her heart thumping. She closed her fingers around it and pulled it out.

A small pocket pistol had been hidden inside his jeans, between his belt and pants. It was small enough she could cradle it in her palm, and as she checked--it was loaded as well.

Tina quickly shut herself inside a stall. She tore the lining of her fleece coat open and carefully slid the pistol inside. She folded the fleece over itself again--she would sew it up once she was back at the car. That should be enough for the time being. Heart thumping, she exited and left the restroom--