Cost of Survival - Road Trip Pt. 01

Author's Note:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This story is set between the conclusion of Cost of Survival and the Epilogue. While it isn't required that a person reads Cost of survival first to enjoy this story, reading it beforehand will give greater knowledge of the characters contained in this episode.

Chapter One: Celine

The farm always looked beautiful in the first rays of a morning sun. The picturesque Alabama countryside was a feast for the eyes. Spread out around the small farmstead was a series of verdant green fields separated by low hedgerows and some sturdy timber fences. A low range of hills sweeping across the horizon offered shelter to the valley they surrounded. Even the barn, workshop and storage sheds that were scattered about the large white washed farmhouse had a rustic charm to them, the aged lumber of the structures still solid despite the years of weathering that lay heavily upon them.

Between the beauty of the scenery and the still silence of the early morning, Celine could be forgiven for thinking that she was living in a perfectly idyllic spot. Only it wasn't perfect and it was far from idyllic.

Despite its appearances the farmstead was under siege, the occupants living in a constant state of fear. Fear of being attacked. That kind of stress, day in and day out, leaves a mark on people. Among a tight knit group of friends or comrades, like soldiers in a war, this pressure could bond them to one another. However, the people living in this rural location had been for the most part, thrown together by chance, and the strain on relationships had been intense at times.

Celine was a nurse by profession, a healer by inclination and the unacknowledged leader of the commune by necessity. She had done much over these last few months since she'd arrived to settle, sooth and smooth over the problems facing people.

Caesar saw himself as the head of his family and the leader of the eleven people living together on the farm. Father to Daniel and Tevin, brother to Brutus, he had discovered that the four men all shared a genetic immunity to the plague that had brought the world to the brink of destruction, all semblance of society crumbled and gone.

The Zombie outbreak had swept across the globe, no country or continent remaining free of the disease. Passed from victim to victim through blood or saliva, the innate urge of those infected to bite, gnaw and kill those who were free of the infection had meant that the spread of the disease had been rapid and violent in nature. All four of the men bore the scars of encounters with Zombies on their bodies, ragged scars mottling their black skin.

More than just a leader, Caesar pictured himself as a future patriarch to a world reborn. His vision being the repopulating of the earth through his and his family's offspring. All the children growing up immune to the deadliest virus ever faced by mankind. To this end, Caesar had gathered female survivors to the empty home he had commandeered.

Aside from Celine, there were six other women living on the farm. Darlene was the eldest of the women, mother now to a healthy baby boy who had been born only a few weeks ago. The black woman had undergone a troubled birth, the fact that Celine had seen both mother and child safely through the ordeal had made Darlene one of her closest friends and allies among the women.

Candace was shorter and heavier than Darlene, sharing none of the other black woman's kind nature, she was instead a troubled soul who was quick to take offence and even quicker to cause it. The months living with her had been hard on everyone, the young black woman's moods becoming worse as her own pregnancy advanced. Some of her angst rose from the fact that the father of her child was not Daniel whom she had an unrequited love for, but instead his brother Tevin who had bred her daily on his father's orders until she had fallen pregnant.

Linda, Jennifer and Deborah were all young white women ranging from their late teens to mid-twenties in age. Like Darlene, these three women had been quick to realize Celine's worth to the group for both her medical knowledge and her quiet, keen intellect that had so far been up to the task of keeping things on an even keel.

Like Candace the three women were all at different stages of pregnancy, Caesar responsible for at least two of the swollen bellies. Celine had been keeping a close eye on Jennifer and Deborah especially as they were both the furthest along of the group, due any week now and she was concerned for them given how hard Darlene's labor had been.

Lastly there was Anya, a young Polish tourist, who had found herself stranded and alone in America when the world had fallen apart. Dark eyed with raven black hair, the skinny Eastern European had become Celine's new best friend, both of them sharing a streak of independence and resilience to their new lot in life.

They were both practical souls as well for all that, knowing that however distasteful it was to be seen as brood mares by Caesar and his family, it was still better than a living death as a Zombie. They had taken to calling their lack of choice as the 'cost of survival' when they would speak of it. Anya was as pregnant as the others, her pretty face pinched thin from the effort of carrying her child. The father was either Caesar or his brother Brutus, both had plowed the young woman enough those first few weeks on the farm.

Stroking her own distended stomach, Celine sipped carefully at the lip of the metal mug holding her tea. She at least had no confusion over who had bred her. Brutus had claimed her as his own in a private agreement with his brother. Although his nephews and brother had all fucked Celine before Brutus, she knew in her heart of hearts that it was the giant black man who had knocked her up. His style of fucking was direct, primitive even, just a raw power that had given her more orgasms than she could possibly count and now a black baby grew within her white womb as a result of his efforts.

The faint noises coming from within the house behind her alerted Celine to the fact that the other occupants of the house were finally stirring from their sleep. The peaceful solitude she'd been enjoying was at an end again, for this day at least. She finished her tea as quickly as she dared, the liquid still piping hot and liable to burn her tongue if she didn't take care. By the time she had swallowed the last of the tea and made her way back inside to the kitchen, there were already three figures in the room.

Tevin was crouched in front the old-fashioned range that they used for cooking. He had already removed the cold ashes from yesterday's fire and was adroitly laying in fresh kindling to heat things up for breakfast.

Standing at the table wielding a knife with practiced skill was Linda. The tall redhead was carving up steaks of venison in preparation for everyone's morning meal. Her pretty face was screwed up in concentration, freckled nose crinkled as she did so, taking care to cut even portions off of the meat.

Celine was pleased to see this display, glad that it wasn't just herself who was keeping an eye on the rationing. That said, the heavily pregnant Linda didn't have to worry so much when it came to portioning out meat. That was probably the most abundant of all their resources, the game in the locality was plentiful enough, deer, rabbit, squirrel all staples of their diet. As if her mind was being read, Linda raised her gaze from her work to meet Celine's stare.

"We're running low, what with the past few weeks, nobody has been out hunting." Linda explained quickly and Celine colored slightly at having forgotten that obvious fact.

Almost a month ago Brutus had returned early from one of his scavenging trips, he had sighted a mob of zombies making their way towards where the farm lay.

'Mob' had turned out to be a serious understatement. Over the next week, in pairs and small groups of five to six, the vanguard of the mob had meandered through the land surrounding the house. At first, the four men had culled the approaching undead, attacking them in coordinated silence, weapons rising and falling with the same lack of passion as if they had been chopping wood rather than dealing heavy blows to the heads of the shambling, moaning zombies.

Then the numbers had increased, groups of twenty, thirty strong forcing Caesar and his family to abandon their ambushing techniques, retiring to the safety of the farm instead.

Eyes wide with fear, men and women both had peered through the darkened windows of the house as hundreds of Zombies had migrated across their small valley. For two weeks the human survivors had been forced to remain hidden, quiet. Food was eaten cold; conversation was sparse and conducted in whispers only. The occasional thump on the walls of the house as an animated corpse blundered into the outside walls had every sphincter in the room tightening in apprehension. Even going to the toilet had to be completed in silence as there always seemed to be a zombie close to the house. Unable to leave the house to use the latrine pit dug for their waste, the smell of excrement, unwashed bodies and fear that permeated each and every room in the house was one that none of them was likely to ever forget.

Darlene's baby boy had never received as much attention as he had during that time. Constantly watched, played with, fed and entertained. Every adult had taken their turn to stop the infant from crying, it's shrill wails sure to bring the zombie horde down on their position. Thankfully Caesar junior had been stoic and relatively quiet the entire time.

"Yeah, good thinking. I'll tell Caesar today, see what he decides," Celine replied to Linda as she dragged her thoughts back to the present.

At her words there was a snort of derision from the third figure in the room. It was no surprise to Celine that Candace was sitting at the table, not helping either Linda or Tevin. The only surprise was that the young black woman had risen this early at all.

"Something on your mind?" Celine spoke quietly to Candace but she caught sight of Tevin from the corner of her eye, his hand hoovering over some firewood as he strained to hear what Candace would say.

"I'll tell Caesar today," Candace mimicked Celine's words, giving them a high-pitched nasal tone that was utterly unlike Celine's voice, just a cruel, childish jab as Celine had come to expect from the young woman.

"And?" Celine prompted.

"And I am sick of you runnin' around, acting like you all that. Kissin' that man's ass like he God or somethin' like, makes me want to just puke," Candace hissed at Celine. She never looked at her though, her eyes downcast the whole time, fingers rubbing at the wooden table top like they were trying to lift off a stain that only existed in the young black woman's mind.

Celine had never worked with anyone with mental health issues in her time at the hospital but she could see that Candace was on the edge. She could also see Tevin beginning to rise from his crouch in front of the range.

She made a calming gesture with one hand toward Tevin, waving him off before he said or did anything in defense of his father. Not knowing how exactly to respond herself, knowing that the wrong thing could ignite the powder keg that Candace was becoming, Celine just muttered 'okay' and stepped back outside before the sullen faced woman could utter a scathing rejoinder.

Tevin joined her outside. The young man, scarcely past his nineteenth birthday, towered over Celine physically. However, despite that and the fact he had fucked her any number of times to orgasm, he still listened intently to her now.

"Leave it Tevin, it's not worth it. You know how your father is about fostering a sense of community. He hears about you and Candace fighting and he'll come down on you every bit as much as her."

He nodded slowly in agreement, right hand rubbing at his stubbled chin. He glanced over his shoulder towards the closed door leading back into the kitchen, ensuring their conversation was private.

"Is...? Is she okay? I mean, she's a pain in the ass but I'm pretty damn sure that's my kid she's carryin' and I don't want her hurtin' herself or the baby."

"I'm sure it won't come to that but all the same, keep an eye on her, I'll talk to the others, have them do the same. I'm sure when the baby comes her spirits will pick up. It's been a hard time on us all."

Celine could see the relief in the teenager's eyes at her confident sounding answer. She had always thought that his brother, Daniel, to be the more sensitive of the two brothers so this side of Tevin, the vulnerability in his concern for his unborn child, it was a good thing to see.

"Yeah, everyone is pretty stressed, I get it," Tevin replied. "Hell, Uncle Brutus is like a bull in a china shop last couple of days, jes' itchin' to get back out on the road. Pop won't hear of it though; he's thinking it's still too dangerous."

She nodded; Celine was well aware of how much Brutus resented being tied to the farm. His role in the community, well one of many he filled, was his scouting trips across the state and beyond, searching for food, medicine, fuel, ammunition, anything and everything their fledgling commune might require for its survival. The big man had a knack for sniffing out caches of supplies and his forays were vital. Also, he resented Caesar, his older brother, for laying down the law and keeping him here. Brutus had no ambitions to lead, he was content with his place in the hierarchy, but that didn't mean being told what to do sat well on him. Like Tevin had said, he'd been like a bull these last days.

Celine patted Tevin on the arm, "I'll go check on him, see how he is before I call on your father."

"Good, you do that," Tevin answered, his characteristic arrogance returning now that his worry had faded. "I'll get this fire lit, let Linda cook me up some food." The tall, well-built youth turned on his heel with that and stomped back into the house.

Celine pulled her fingers through her long blonde hair, her thoughts shifting from the problem of Candace to the problem of Brutus. She could feel eyes on her from the kitchen window, so rather than stand there giving them a show as she considered her next move, Celine instead began to walk unhurriedly towards the building housing the workshop, the place the big black man was most likely to be.

In truth, Brutus wasn't the problem. Celine had long realized that despite being an imposing physical specimen and having an outward appearance of coarse brutality, the big man was driven by simple desires. He wasn't one who looked for responsibility, quite happy to leave that to his older brother. Nor was he a glutton, taking more than his fair share of the groups dwindling supplies. He ate simply, wasn't a particularly hard drinker, his only vice was his abundant libido and that was something he shared with all the men in his family.

All Brutus wanted to do was enjoy the freedom that the zombie pandemic offered, travelling where he wished, taking what he wanted. That and dipping his rock-hard cock into a willing woman as often as possible. Brutus wasn't the issue, it was Caesar.

He might have been oblivious the Celine's influence in the community, but Caesar was well aware of his brother's worth. He was also all to conscious of the esteem for his younger brother that his sons and the women living here held. The head of their family wouldn't have described himself as jealous but Celine was sure that a tinge of the green-eyed monster was at play in Caesars decision to keep Brutus from travelling.

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The door to the workshop was ajar and Celine knew from the sounds slipping through the opening that Brutus wasn't alone at that moment. She did her best to squeeze through the gap between the partially open doors, her body had swelled in its pregnancy, her stomach and breasts feeling uncomfortably large on her slender frame. Celine had resisted for a while abandoning her old clothes, preferring to hold onto the practical canvas based outdoor clothing as long as possible. Having survived alone as long as she had done, there was a reluctance to change out of the type of clothes that had been a boon to her as she'd lived rough on her travels. Practicality had eventually tipped her hand and now she had taken to wearing an outsized pair of denim dungarees over a billowing white shirt that had originally belonged to Caesar. The strap of the dungarees caught on the wooden door as she tried to sneak inside, catching her off balance midstride so that her knee rapped on the door itself in a low knocking blow.

She doubted most people would have even noticed the noise but Brutus had a sixth sense when it came to his surroundings, born from having to keep an awareness of his surroundings at all times when travelling the desolation that was a zombie filled America. Celine noted his head never turned but she saw his shoulder muscles stiffen imperceptibly signaling his knowledge of her presence.

Brutus had his back to her and the blonde pregnant woman took a moment to drink in the sight of his naked black body. He stood 6'5 from his toes to the top of his head. His black skin was festooned with scar tissue that formed patterns across the toned flesh of his body. Jagged tearing scars, small almost circular ones that might have been from bullets, curling slashes that Celine recalled from stitching up other men in the ER back in the hospital she'd worked in, the result of knife slashes. There was also a scattering of smaller curved scars that might have been difficult to place before the world had fallen into chaos but that were all to familiar in this new reality. The tell-tale marks from bite wounds.

Despite the plethora of old wounds on his skin, there was a real beauty in his corded muscles, firm flesh and powerful limbs. Adding to the vista was the fact that his body was gleaming with perspiration, a healthy sheen on his flesh that caught the thin shafts of sunlight that worked their way into the gloomy interior of the workshop.

The big man was sweating because Celine had walked in on him mid fuck. From the doorway all that Celine could make out of his partner were the pale skin of the soles of her feet, raised up on either side of him. Pale white feet and a steady stream of expletives, some English, some Polish, all filthy. It could only be Anya.

Celine sidestepped her way further into the room, moving slowly and quietly which probably wasn't necessary as the wet 'thunks' as Brutus's cock plowed into the young Polish woman's pussy and her answering moans and curses were sufficient to cover Celine's footsteps even if she'd been thumping her way through the room.

The pair of them had utilized a workbench for their fucking, a varied assortment of hand tools scattered on the surface of the bench. Celine worked her way around until she was perpendicular to them, her presence partially obscured by an engine block suspended on chains to one side.

Anya was as naked as Brutus, her pale skin startling in its contrast to his own deep black flesh. She was looking straight up into Brutus's face, eyes wide with passion as the big man plunged deep inside her with steady powerful thrusts. Like Celine, Anya was well into her pregnancy, her belly swollen and heavy with child. Again, like Celine, the young Polish woman had kept herself active during her pregnancy so that while her stomach had grown and her small 32A breasts had swelled up two cup sizes, the rest of her body had retained its lean physique.