The Dead World Ch. 08

She couldn't stop from giggling as he nibbled and kissed her oh-so-soft skin, her voice a pleasured sigh. "Danny... stop..."

Why? He thought. Why stop here? She didn't sound serious. She was enjoying it just as much as he was, if not more. He shook his head defiantly, fully invested in the moment of drunken passion, nibbling and suckling her neck tenderly as he felt her tense beneath him and shudder with desire.

A whimsical laughter poured from her lips as she arched her body, and pressed her hands hard against his chest. "Stop."

He drew back, but only just, that devious glint in his eyes and coy smirk upon his lips telling her quite bluntly, 'No.' He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, finding that she hadn't put the bra back on when she'd come back from foraging through the storage units... She hadn't taped down since they'd left, even if he thought it was still a clever idea. Those gloriously plush, round breasts were ripe for teasing, and he pinched a soft nipple between his index and middle finger, gently rolling it between them.

She swallowed down a soft, pleasured groan and raised her right leg so that her knee teased against his groin as she pressed against his chest harder, fighting for distance. He frowned, eyes narrowing as she robbed him of that sweet purr of pleasure, and he finally rose to sit and took her wrists, bringing her hands down against the mattress to hold her still there as she giggled and wriggled under him.

"Noooooo nono! Get off... fun's over!" The slurred pattern of speech was hard to read, but even with her lowered inhibitions, Charlie was certain she didn't want to let this carry on... no matter how nice it felt. Dog didn't hold her to hurt her. She could twist her hands free with ease if she wanted to.

He studied her expression hard, taking in the upward curl on those addictive lips, the mirth in her eyes... It wasn't exactly fair since they'd been drinking. But once he realized she wasn't truly trying to escape him, his hands slid down her slender arms. He sought to undo the buttons of the oversized flannel, playfully swatting her slender hands away as she attempted to stop him, before leaning in to steal another passionate kiss from her luscious lips again.

"Mmmn..."

There it was again, that silky sweet sound of enjoyment smothered between their lips, driving his own hands to move faster to rid himself of the pesky material stopping him from exploring the body of the gorgeous woman beneath him. She turned her head away and forced her eyes open as his lips brushed the tops of her breasts, and his fingers swept the curve of her waist. Her hands shifted to brush back through his hair. She didn't want to admit how good it felt, how electric his touch was, his long fingers curling around her luscious, full breasts, pinching and teasing her delicate brown nipples. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, a soft shuddered breath escaping her lips as fell silent and still for a moment.

"Danny..." It was her final warning. Tendrils of anxiety had begun to pool in the pit of her stomach, his ravenous gaze stirring a sour memory of a few days prior, when she found herself pinned against a wall only feet from an army of the dead with the maniacal mechanic trying to talk her out of her jeans. Her tone of voice didn't escape him. He wanted to ignore it, and push farther... he wanted her writhing in pleasure beneath him, breathless and panting, moaning his name.

A low, frustrated growl not unlike a canine's rose in his throat, one of the rare times she had heard any sound at all from Daniel... but he moved, swift and wordless, eyes narrowed in a pointed look from her rejection. It took everything in him to ball his hands into fists and slam them into the mattress at either side of her slender body, tearing his lips away, forcing himself to leave those delicious little chocolate nipples alone. He moved to stand, frustrated, and turned away from her.

"...Where you going?" Her slurred speech held notes of worry as he snatched one of the dark, long sleeved shirts, sliding his arms into it with a haphazard shrug, trying his damnedest to smother down the prickles of anger he felt. He didn't dare glance back at her, not certain he wanted to see how she was looking at him now as he smoothed a hand back through messy, long black locks, pushing them back away from his face before massaging his own temples gently. She was such a fucking tease...

"...I'm sorry." She sighed. "I... I want to... but..."

He shook his head, waving a hand back dismissively as if to excuse her of owing him any explanation, and the silence that settled between them was uncomfortable. He paused, sitting down at long last to grasp his boots as she closed the open flannel shirt over her chest, and tilted her head.

"You don't have to go... I... I just don't—I mean... I just... I can't... I'm sorry—Let's... let's just rest, like we always do?"

He fell still for a few moments, turning his head to cast a pointed leer at the pretty thing struggling with the buttons of her shirt, noting the sorrow in her tone of voice. Fantastic. Now he felt bad. She didn't mean to upset him, Dog tried to reason with his own mind—he'd upset himself, really. With a gruff huff, he rolled his eyes, and let his boots drop to the floor as he crossed the room to turn the solar lantern off, before crawling back into the bed beside her. He coiled his arms around her waist, tightly, and pulled her flush against him once again, shutting his eyes with a deep sigh and resting his chin atop her head.

"I'm sorry—"

"Hmph." No more talk. The irate sound said that very clearly. Sleep.

She lay there for what felt like forever, unable to doze off even under the haze of heavy drinking. She couldn't ignore the turbulent emotions raging inside of her, or the fact that she was so incredibly turned on herself. The guilt of it was almost too much, and for the first time, she felt... bad... that she'd pushed away his advances. She tried not to give into the little voice in her head insisting she wasn't doing anything wrong, if she wanted to do it... there was no harm in enjoying herself, and he was gentle and sweet—however aggressive he might have been. She might damn well owe him, for all that he had sacrificed and done for her in the last three weeks.

Dog forced himself into an uncomfortable sleep, not trusting himself to behave should she doze off before him, holding her so tightly that she had to struggle a bit for comfort and finally inspired him to loosen his grasp around her during his troubled sleep... and finally, with a sigh, she nuzzled her face against his neck, into the softness of a silvery scar there, and slipped into an uncomfortable rest herself.

It was raining, god awful rain too, for most of the week. Slash had spent long hours canvassing the nearby roads... he picked through a few houses but found them mostly undisturbed. It was good to be out, though. He was in his element out in the forest, wandering the wilds and tracking wildlife. He craved falling asleep to the scent of a burning fire and the sounds of the wild.

He'd found far more luck in hunting than picking up the trail of the two runaway boys at first, but the fact of the matter was he knew they were near. He knew they'd hijacked the old red Ford truck he'd come down from Chicago in, unable to help but chuckle to himself at the irony Dog had used a trick he'd taught him against him... The little shit.

Whatever the case, on the sixth day or so after bringing back two sizable doe for his men, he made his way down the lonely two-lane highway and caught a glimpse of something, just barely... He had been heading west, and sure enough, he could make out a bit of red down a small embankment. He brought Ruthless' Yukon to a slow stop and made his way off the road, down the hill, to park just behind what he was certain was his truck. He snagged the keys from the ignition as he hopped out, slinging his rifle over his shoulder while merrily whistling the tune of "Kingdom Coming" as he started over to inspect his find.

The Ford had been pushed downhill, and Dog had taken great care to camouflage it with branches torn from trees and other foliage, damn near succeeding in making it entirely invisible. Slash grinned and peered inside, reaching down to try the handle before fishing the keys from his pocket and unlocking the door manually, going to pop the hood. He swiped the broken branches out of his way, peering inside to survey the damage.

"Damn radiator finally kicked it huh? Tch... hah, the lil' shit knew better than ta leave the battery... Taught his ass too much..."

He set his sights on the ground surrounding the vehicle, noting the light disturbances in the malleable red clay... just barely. Dog wasn't a fool by far. He was just as capable if not more so than Slash himself when it came to navigating the forests. The footprints were faded under the rain, just barely visible... The boy hadn't been here in days. But it was enough to track. With a smirk, he resumed whistling the old civil war song, leaving the SUV there as he started off into the forest following the faint trail.

Miles out and it became easier to read the make of Dog's boots in the mud. He'd gotten sloppy, too, or cocky, snapping branches and disturbing grass here and there, certain nobody could track the way he did... but Slash knew.

He could read the slightest indent in the ground. He spotted every overturned rock, every bent dandelion stalk, every tip-toe imprint of Dog's fucking boot, and he could estimate how long ago he had been here. Some tracks were fresher—headed in other directions than those that lead him in, and so Slash could only assume he was out hunting... alone.

Of course, he was smart enough to leave Charlie behind.

Soft, weak, pretty-faced little Charlie wouldn't do shit but slow him down. As the forest thinned, though, he finally found himself met with a tall fenced-in enclosure; red metal roofs lined rows of thick concrete buildings, and an old overgrown sign for the Self-Storage facility was toppled over into the trees. There was a long gravel road splitting through the area—something worth investigating, later—but for now, Slash grinned to himself and kept under the cover of the forest.

He'd found them.

It was early enough that he could afford to camp and wait for a while, and so that's exactly what he did. He watched for signs of life, and sure enough it wasn't long before Dog slipped from the main building, quietly. He was a bit sluggish, but he supposed the boys hadn't had much to eat over the frame of the last week.

As the shaggy-haired youth moved on, his rifle slung over a shoulder, Slash watched Dog work his way far back in the enclosure. Slash moved around the gate quietly in the cover of the underbrush to observe him. Dog carried a set of heavy bolt cutters. And somewhere along the second to last row of units, he snapped the lock off with a sharp clip and reached down to draw the garage door up.

An absent yawn escaped his lips, definitely feeling the consequences of last night's actions in full by now. His head was pounding and he felt as if his entire body weighed five tons. He dearly wanted to head back inside and snuggle back up against Charlotte. The thought caused him to scowl, recalling bits and pieces of the night before more clearly as he stepped inside the garage unit and tried shifting a few of the plastic totes. They were insanely heavy!

He shook his annoyance at how things had played out from his mind as he took a cautious peek inside, finding a glimmering chunk of material looking back at him from inside the plastic tote. There were dozens all stacked, one on top of the other. He reached inside, picking up the hefty golden brick, and examining it curiously before tucking it back inside and moving on to the next tote. Filled with the same. And the next—the same.

There was a sizable fortune inside, but it didn't do Dog a lick of use, now... not in these times. Most items of monetary value from the old world were absolutely useless now, and with a disappointed frown, he headed back out and pulled the garage door back down, moving on to the next. His eyes were tempted to the gate, the sun not yet making an appearance today from behind the thick storm clouds that had lingered for most of the week. It made it feel colder than it should.

He'd dressed for the occasion, layered in old flannels and fitted with a new pair of dark jeans, and fresh socks. His leather jacket was zipped over the cold weather shirts, Charlie's goggles pushing back the mess of dark hair from his face. His hunting knife had been tucked into its sheath and placed in his back pocket, with his pistol at his hip, and rifle over a shoulder. He stared for a moment at the forest line, feeling the presence of eyes upon him. After a moment, he dismissed the feeling as paranoia and went about scavenging the lot.

The next garage door he opened was... well, he wished he hadn't. The foul smell permeating the air caused him to step back rapidly, bringing a gloved hand up to cover his nose from the rancid scent as it escaped the enclosed space. There were rows of metal shelves here... and upon them, many, many carcasses of what appeared to be animals.

Squirrels, rabbits... cats, and dogs—some flayed, others gutted with their carcasses opened and exposed in the most bizarre fashion. He glanced at the walls, noting what appeared to be canvases with mutilated animals pinned and plastered onto them as if some sort of disturbing artwork...

Oh, he had seen enough. He reached up, rapidly pulling the door back down and moving away from the disgusting display. He grimaced, grimly setting his sights on the next unit, looking to put that one far behind him.

Whoever had done this had done it not very long ago. The blood was dried, yes, but the animals were still rotting and not yet heavily decomposed... This sick fuck had been here within the last few weeks. The eerie idea of coming across whoever left this disturbing "gallery" caused his blood to run cold, and he gritted his teeth, and moved to the next unit, snapping the lock and raising the door.

Empty. Fuck.

He moved on to the next. The itch in the back of his mind telling him someone was watching didn't fade away, but as he drew up the next door, he found himself grinning ear to ear and not at all paying mind to his intuition. No fucking way...

A single vehicle rested inside, with a car cover shielding it. He slipped inside the unit swiftly, peeling the material from over the top of the vehicle with giddy anticipation, marveling at the sleek black paint job of the 1969 Pontiac Firebird. He ran a hand along the body as he circled around it, before trying the driver-side door, grinning even wider to find it opened smoothly.

Dog plopped into the driver's seat, the fresh scent of vintage leather causing the teen to grin wide as he grasped the wheel. He fumbled about the simple dash, checking the glove compartment first, hopeful for a spare set of keys. No such luck. He sighed, not truly wanting to go through the process of hotwiring another vehicle, and as a last-ditch effort, he flipped down the sun visors, and sure enough with a musical jingle the spare set of keys dropped into his lap. No fucking WAY.

As he popped the key into the ignition and wasn't surprised in the slightest that when he tried to crank the car it sputtered and then fell silent. The battery was dead. With a pensive frown, he took the keys, moving around to pop the trunk and peer inside hopefully. A spare tire on the rim and a black leather bag was inside, and as he peered inside the back with the highest of hopes he couldn't help but chuckle...

A set of red and black cables sat inside.

He couldn't get back to the safe room quickly enough, shoving the door open, eager to grab the old Ford battery and see if he could get the car going. They wouldn't get incredibly far without needing gas, not in a relic of a muscle car, but it would not only get them well away from here far faster than hoofing it, but it would also be insanely fucking fun driving it!

Charlie had woken up, he realized quickly and tidied their space. She wasn't in the room—likely poking through the units on the other end of the hall of the main building. He scowled, turning on his heel to hurry after her, and he found her not long after standing just before one of the doors.

She'd suited back up once again. He wasn't entirely sure if last night was to blame, or if she just thought to heed his advice. The new set of jeans was a little tight on her, accenting that gorgeous peach of an ass... but with two thick flannel shirts, the oversized leather coat, and the dark beanie hiding her hair she just about looked the part once more. Her warm brown eyes were troubled and concerned as he approached.

Dog reached out once near enough to brush his fingertips against her cheek, fondly. 'What's wrong?'

Her frown didn't fade away. She simply reached out to the doorknob and turned it, nudging the door open so very slowly. For the second time today, the sullen, suffocating scent of death had reached out to assault his nostrils. His heart skipped a beat, anticipating another disturbing unit filled with mutilated animals... but this one was not quite the same.

Inside was a single body of a young girl, whose hair had been the color of straw when she was living. She was curled into the fetal position back against the wall of the tiny storage unit, with a backpack beside her. Several cans of food were scattered about the room, unopened, and just beside her rested a solar lantern, identical to the one Dog had taken from the crumbled campsite when they first arrived.

The grim scene dawned upon him, realizing the biters he had put down earlier were dressed in a similar fashion to the near-mummified corpse of the young girl. She had probably been here through at least one summer, entombed within the storage unit... it spared her a gruesome decomposition, locked inside the secured space. He placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder and gently pulled her to his chest, turning her away from the scene...

Something had probably happened here, a startling threat or another had come by the family camped here, and to protect the child, her family locked her into the room. Perhaps they meant to come back for her when it was safe... and they never returned. She couldn't find a way to open the cans of food or get out of the locked room. She might have lasted a few days before succumbing to dehydration. It was a fate better than what her folks had suffered, he figured, however awfully tragic it all was. Charlotte pressed her face against his chest, curling her arms around his midsection tightly.

"She was just a little kid..."

He held her tightly with one arm, before reaching out and slowly closing the door. He tilted her head up so that she met his gaze and flashed a lazy smile, taking her hand and drawing her back toward the room. He knew exactly how to cheer her up.

They fetched the Ford battery and made their way outside, back toward the storage unit with the old Firebird, and instantly Charlie broke into laughter.

"Holy shit...! You're a fucking genius, Danny! Look at this!" Her laughter was infectious. The trauma of the unpleasant scene she'd come by earlier faded to an afterthought. His shoulders shook as he chuckled quietly, watching Charlie excitedly dart about the car, inspecting the pristine collectible in awe. "You think you can hotwire this one?"

He beamed at her, tossing the keys over the hood to her, and she did the most delighted little dance before slipping into the passenger seat.