Red Death

“What of you?” I asked, “What’s your story, Eugene?”
“My story…” I couldn’t see but I knew he had bit his bottom lip.
We’ve been driving so long that the late afternoon skyline had grown dim; first it played with darker blues and yellows and then it gleamed with a furious red. The red slowly faded into dark purples and blacks, the sky filling with twinkling stars and a full moon.
Now, the night sky was fading and dawn was fast approaching. So far, we’d seen no other vehicles or even humans walking about. It wasn’t a good sign and our spirits were low slung. We’d need to stop for the night pretty soon.
“My mother was half Spanish and my father was an American soldier. He was stationed in Spain when he met my mom. They got married a few months later and moved to the United States, to Alabama. It was Dad’s home state.” Eugene explained, “They had me a year to the day of their wedding night. Mother died when I was…three, I think. She passed away from cancer – nasty stuff that. Dad decided to stay in Alabama and he raised me on his own. He died when I was six; his life was taken in battle. I was shipped off to a local orphanage and remained there until I joined the military at 13 years old. I lied about my age. I told them I was 16 and being an orphan, they were willing to look the other way. I was a damn good soldier.”
Short and to the point; blunt even. He did his best to not dive too deep into his background. I couldn’t help but pick out the ‘was a good soldier’ part. That, I think, will be a story for another day. I was getting a fairly good read on him – Eugene had secrets that ran deep and a mass of tangled skeletons in his closet. I found him intriguing and impressive. I ran my tongue over my sharp teeth.
“How old are you, Eugene?” I asked. “You know my age…only fair I learn yours.”
“I’m…what is it now…26 years old.”
This time I arched an eyebrow, or at least attempted to, “I thought that you were older than that.”
“What do you mean by that, Kiddo?” He asked. “You saying I look old?”
He released one hand from the handle bars and grabbed my upper leg, giving it a small squeeze. I gave a giggle-like squeal and lightly poked him in the ribs. He grabbed me again and I tried to squirm away, laughing like a child. It was nice to have a laugh again; nice to feel my lips pull up into a smile.
“No! I didn’t mean…that’s not what I meant…ok! Ok!” I giggled, “I’m sorry. You’re not old – I take it back…what’s that light, Eugene?”
He looked up to where I was pointing. It was a pale neon glow, flashing and blinking in the fading twilight. I could tell it was some sort of sign but the colors hurt my eyes and even if I knew how, I couldn’t read what it said. Eugene shifted the bike into another gear, causing it to go faster. My arms reclaimed their spot around his waist.
“It’s a motel.” He said, “Looks like we’ll be stopping here for now.”
That made me very happy to hear. I couldn’t wait to get off the motorcycle. My legs had grown numb, my ass hurt, and I was feeling far too confined upon this motorcycle. When Eugene parked the bike I was quick to jump off.
I fell flat on my face. My legs were protesting from lack of use. Amused and laughing like fool, Eugene helped me to my feet. I gave him a thank you as I fought to remove the confounded helmet. He reached out to help me but I brushed his hands away.
“I got it!” I snapped.
I finally got it off with a victorious ‘ha’! I placed the helmet on my seat and looked around. The motel was a shithole. There really was no other way to put it. Looking at it made me feel as if I’d been transported into a horror movie. I looked at Eugene, about to ask if he really wanted to stop and rest here.
That’s when I heard it; the soft shuffling of feet, the hot, heavy breathing, and the soft, dog-like yelping. I put a finger to my lips and made a grab for my crossbow and bolts. Eugene followed my lead, grabbing his gun. He mirrored my movements as I knelt down beside the bike.
“What is it?” He asked, voice low and husky.
“Stalkers.” I hissed, “Five of them…looks like they’ve taken over the motel. They’re using it as their hunting grounds. They knew that people would stop here.”
Stalkers looked like Creepers and they moved like Creepers (well, they were a shade or two faster). Their only major differences were their voices, which had a more of a metallic tinge to it and was more dog-like and the fact is that they don’t kill you as soon as they look at you. Oh no, they stalk; they follow their prey. They’re meant to cause fear, panic, paranoia, and fatigue. When they go in for the kill it’s because their prey has given up on trying to shake them off or kill them.
For the most part, a single headshot would end most Zombies. Stalkers are the one and only exception. They play possum – more than one bullet is required to drop a Stalker permanently. I whispered this information to Eugene. He nodded.
Most people bond over coffee or a movie or a favorite book. Most long lasting friendships are forged over an inside joke or sharing secrets. Most relationships happen because you’ve got something in common. Not for me and Eugene. Oh no, we weren’t so lucky.
Our union was brought to life because of the Zombie Apocalypse. Our bond was nurtured over a long motorcycle ride. Our relationship came into being as we slayed those Stalkers, side by side. Our everlasting friendship blossomed as we unloaded the bike.
We walked off to the nearest motel room; I realized that Eugene walked with a country boy swagger. We were covered head to toe in Stalker blood.
It was at that moment, as I watched Eugene wipe a trail of Stalker blood from his cheek, that I knew we’d go far; that’d we’d survive; that, no matter what God or Mother Nature threw our way, we’d be ok. Eugene caught my eye and gave me a kind smile. In that heartbeat of a second I knew that I would follow this man anywhere, even to hell and back if he asked me to. When we came upon the door we were disappointed to find it locked.
Eugene knocked, “Room service!”
When no one answered, I kicked down the door. He gave me a sideways look.
“That really necessary? I do know how to pick locks.”
“As do I. It was just quicker to do it that way. We’ll prop it closed with a chair.” Was my answer and that’s what I did.
The room was small and dingy. The wallpaper was peeling and when Eugene flicked on the lights (I was actually shocked to see that there was still electricity – the motel must’ve been equipped with a backup generator) only half worked properly. There was a stale smell to the room that made us crinkle our noses. However, there was small curved glass TV hanging from the wall, a dusty moth eaten couch, a worn out recliner, and a queen sized bed with threadbare sheets and musty pillows that would be in working order once they got fluffed a bit. The kitchen looked to be in operational shape and there was a decent bathroom, despite the rust stains.
“You want a shower first or what, Kiddo?” Eugene asked, dropping our bags on the couch and went to investigate the bathroom. “Do you…do you even take showers?”
“Just because I’m half Bobcat doesn’t mean I don’t like water.” I growled lightheartedly, “I happen to enjoy a warm shower and even a hot bubble bath if I can manage.”
I poked my head in with his and saw a toilet, single person shower, and a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet. I snuck past Eugene and turned on the sink faucet. I cupped some of the rusty water in my hands and sniffed it.
“What are you doing?”
“Gotta make sure that Swimmers haven’t infected the water supply.” I said.
“Swimmers?”
“Water zombies.” I explained, “They’ll infest water treatment plants, wells, pools, ponds, as well as any and all deep, still water. If you drink the water in which they’ve contaminated or if the water gets into a cut, your nose, mouth, or eyes you’ll turn. Takes about three days for that to happen. Also, if they bite you you’ll turn.”
“How do you know if the water is bad?”
“It’ll have a rotten flesh scent to it. Believe me when I say that you’ll know it when you smell it.”
“Is the water ok here?”
“Yes.” I shut off the sink.
“Well, I’ll let you take a shower first, Kiddo. I think I saw some vending machines a few doors down. Thought maybe I’d get us something to eat and drink. I doubt you’ve got anything like that in those bags of yours.”
“You’d be right.” I said, “I didn’t stop to think about food and drink when I packed up and left the facility. Open the heavier bag and take a pistol with you just in case. It’ll be loaded already.”
He gave me a thumbs up so show he understood, “Try not to use all the hot water, ok?”
I returned his thumbs up, “Use all the hot water. Check!”
I received a moldy couch cushion to the head for that one.
“Smartass.”
Snickering, I shut the bathroom door and stripped down. I didn’t bother taking the weapons out of my clothes at this time. There was a small built-in closet that had a few towels and washcloths. There was also two small bars of soap and a couple of those tiny shampoo bottles.
I took one of each and hopped into the shower, turning the water to lukewarm. I wanted Eugene to have most of the hot water. I spent maybe only a good five minutes in the shower. It was a quick get in, rinse, wash up, rinse again, and get out deal.
I wash my hair and my body just like a human would. Once I was done, I got out and ran a towel through my hair, just taking away some of the water. I liked to have my hair air-dry. I exposed my claws and ran them through my hair, combing out the knots.
Then I wrapped the towel around me, it barely covered anything, and slipped out of the bathroom. Eugene hadn’t returned yet so I rummaged through my clothing bag. I decided on a pink tank top and gray cotton shorts.
I ran the towel over my body quick as I could and slipped on the clean clothes. Then, I hung the towel up to dry. My hair and body was still very much damp and I realized that the motel room was chilly.
I followed the cool air flow and found what I believed was the heater. It had two numbers on it: 6-0. I figured that this was the room temperature and I didn’t like it. I pushed several buttons, all while the machine beeped at me rudely.
“Come on.” I whined, “It’s cold in here!”
“What-temperature-would-you-like-to-set-the-room-to?” The machine asked, male voice purely robotic.
“75.” I said, “Make this room 75 degrees. Please.”
“New-temperature-approved. Have-a-nice-day.”
Hot air began to blow from the vents of the machine. I gave it a pat, like one would do with a dog.
“Thanks.”
Much better, I thought. Now to clean up my mess before Eugene gets back.
I picked up my discarded clothes in the bathroom. Being as I wore two layers, I had to make two trips. I removed all weapons from my armor. I tossed the knives into my weapons bags.
I set aside one of my best pistols, chucking it onto the bed. Then, double checking the safety on the others, set them out on the coffee table. That way they would be within arm’s length if I needed them. I slipped the one I had placed on the bed under one of the pillows nearest to the door.
“I didn’t know what you liked…or even what it is you eat so I just grabbed a little bit of everything.” Eugene said as he stepped through the door.
I put the chair back into place, shutting out the outside world. Eugene’s arms were filled to the brim with soda bottles, chocolate bars, bags of chips, cheese Danishes, gummies, hard candies, and granola bars. I helped take some off his hands and we dumped his bounty on the bed. He went to flash me a smile and did a double take as he looked at me. Whatever he had meant to say never saw the light of day.
“You have boobs.”
I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard in my life. I’m certain that I even snorted a bit. I’m sure any other girl would’ve been offended or insulted by his words but I just found it hysterical. It was the way he had said it. His voice had been like that of a child’s, surprised and confused at the same time.
“Well, why the hell would you think that I didn’t have breast?” I asked, wiping tears from my eyes.
My ribs felt as if they were about to crack and my belly begun to hurt from laughing so hard. His face grew red and he had become all flustered. He ran his hands through his hair. This made him look like a cute porcupine.
“It’s…just…well…you’ve got fur…your clothes. They didn’t show off your body…I…Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for those words to come out like that.”
“Ah! Bless you, Eugene. Christ that was funny.” Still chuckling I took a step back and gave him a small twirl (he’s the only person I have ever done that for), “As you can see I’ve got all the right parts in all the right places. I am very much female in form. Other than my fur and other Bobcat parts, I’ve got nothing that you haven’t seen before.”
This was permission for him to look over and judge my body. I was used to being studied and seeing as we’d be traveling together from now on, I wanted him to get used to the sight of me. I didn’t think anything of it.
His eyes racked over my figure and his tongue flicked out to moisten his bottom lip. Being naïve and unused to men looking at me for any other reason than research and science, I didn’t comprehend the darkening of his gaze or the way I heard his pulse quicken.
“Didn’t you have bra you could have put on?” He asked, clearing his throat from the husky quality it had taken up and doing his best to avert his gaze, “You’re a bit...exposed.”
I looked down at myself and crossed my arms over my chest, “Sorry and no. I don’t like wearing them. I guess it’s just something you’ll have to get used to.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me, “How do you know I’m not some weird creepy pervert who’ll just take what I want from you and be gone by morning?”
I gave him a broad grin, “How do you know that I’m not just some rabid killing machine who’s just waiting for the right time to murder you?”
Eugene returned my smile and gave me a bow, “Touché, Kiddo, touché. I’m gonna hit the showers now. Help yourself to the food and drinks.” He walked into the bathroom and shut the door, “You didn’t use up all the hot water did you?!” I heard him shout.
“No! You’re good to go!” I shouted back as I sat down on the bed.
I picked up a chocolate bar, it was filled with almonds and I eagerly ate it. I also opened a bottle of Dr. Pepper and grabbed a bag of Doritos, Spicy Nacho flavored. I also downed a bag of gummy worms.
Eugene had the same mindset as me. His shower was only a minute or two longer than mine. The water shut off and I heard him fumbled around the bathroom, looking for a towel.
“Hey,” he asked, “Would you happen to have anything that might fit me in that bag of yours?”
“Pants or shirt?” I asked back, licking my fingers clean as I got up and rummaged through the bag. “I have a few men’s clothes in here.”
“Both!”
I found a pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt that would probably fit him. They’d be a little snug but beggars can’t be choosers. I knocked on the door and Eugene cracked it open, holding out a wet hand. I handed him the clothes.
“They might be a bit tight.” I warned.
His grunt was answer enough for me. I went back to the bed and grabbed another chocolate bar. I haven’t had anything to eat in several days and it was nice to have food again. My ears forwarded at the sound on the bathroom door opening and so I looked up. For the second time in my life I felt my jaw drop.
Eugene had slipped the pants on and had them buttoned with no problem. The pants were a bit snug and the material clung tightly to his body, showing off his attractive physique. I peeked at his bare feet and was excited and pleased to see that his toe nails were painted to match his fingers. In his mouth dangled the shirt. He had a small hand towel and he was making a feeble attempt to dry his hair with it.
His bare upper body is what laid claim to my attention. He really was a lovely creature to behold. His muscles were well formed, cut, and rugged. I had to fight the urge to go over to him and run my fingertips over his skin.
Upon his chest were two spherical scars over where his heart would be. I recognized them as bullet holes; I had a few of those myself, though mine were hidden beneath my fur. But, the scar that drew my attention ran from his left shoulder down to the third rib.
It was a long, ragged scar; formed like a semicircle of lightening. The skin was a shade lighter than the rest of him. I recognized a scar like that – Eugene had been in an explosion and he had lost his left arm, shoulder, and a portion of his ribcage (no doubt he had lost an organ or two in the process). ‘God’s Cure’ had made him whole again.
“Doyofgotabhrus,Kifdo?” He asked, mouth full of cotton.
“What?” I was brought back to reality and thankful that Eugene hadn’t noticed me checking him out like a dog does a piece of steak.
He grabbed the shirt out of his mouth and hung the towel on the door, “Do you have a brush, Kiddo?”
With his back to me I could see that that the large scar extended to the back, mirroring the front one. He also had a thin, straight scar over his right kidney. He had been stabbed once before. I couldn’t help but wonder in his lower half was as scarred as his upper. Not that it bothered me, I found scars a turn-on and I loved the fact that each one told a story.
“No. Sorry, I don’t have a brush.”
“How’d you detangle your hair then?” He asked, slipping the shirt over his head, “I’m pretty sure your hair looked like a rat’s nest when I left.”
I exposed my claws, flashing them with a smile “These.”
“Ah – so the little kitty does have claws.” I heard the tease in his voice.
“Yes,” I said, “The kitty has claws. They’re retractable and I normally keep them hidden.”
“Well, would you do me a favor and share them?”
I patted the mattress next to me and Eugene sat down. Being as he was a bit taller than me, I had to get up on my knees in order to preform my job. I unsheathed my claws.
“I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” I said.
His hair was in a worse state then mine had been. It was all knotted and tangled. Brushing it out was a slow going process.
“So,” he said softly, “what did you think?”
“Of what?” I asked, dealing with a particularly bad knot at that moment.
“I let you see my scars on purpose. It was only fair. You showed me the real you right off the bat.” Eugene said, emotions barely controlled; he sounded like he was hurting. I felt his body tighten beneath my hands. “You can tell a lot by how a person reacts when they see the true you. I wanted to see your reaction to finding out that I’m a metalhead.”
“Who am I to hold hatred towards anybody?” I asked, “I look like no one else upon this planet. I myself have metallic parts – I’m not all flesh and blood. I have no right to be raciest or judging.”
“You’ve got metal parts?” He sounded shocked.
“Of course,” I said, running my claws through his hair to double check that I didn’t miss any knots, “I’ve had so many surgeries…I’ve had to be put back together so many times. It only makes sense that my creator’s used ‘God’s Cure’ half the time. It was cheaper in the long run. Though, I couldn’t tell you what pieces are real and what are manmade.”
I patted his shoulder to let him know that his hair was back to peak performance. He reached up, running his hands through his hair, pushing it back in the way he liked it. Then, he turned and looked at me with those pale blue eyes.
“What now?” He asked.
I shrugged and fell back onto the bed, grabbing a KitKat bar, “Movie…TV?”
“Think TV stations still work?”
“Not live. Doubt anyone still has the balls to try and remain in one spot long enough to be filmed.” I mused, “But most of these TVs are stored with a memory bank right?”
“Yeah. What do you want to watch?”
I flashed him a smile, “Tangled.”
Chuckling, Eugene looked at the curved, glass panel, “TV?”
Black letters formed over its monitor: Y-E-S?
“Do you have a movie data base?”
O-F C-O-U-R-S-E. W-H-A-T W-O-U-L-D Y-O-U L-I-K-E T-O W-A-T-C-H?
“Do you have old Disney movies?”
H-O-W O-L-D?
Eugene looked at me, “When did that movie come out?”
I shrugged and looked at the TV, “Do you have the movie Tangled?”
Y-E-S.
“Please play it. English. No subtitles.” Eugene said.
We watched Tangled, ate junk food, and drank soda. At one point, Eugene paused the movie when a full shot of Flynn Rider came into view. He stood next to it and mirrored the movie Eugene’s stance.
“So, you really think I look like this guy?” He asked; he was grinning and laughing so I knew that he saw the similarities.
“Well,” I said, joining in with the fun, “Your clothes are all wrong.” I rolled over onto my back, “And I doubt you’re an adventurous, dashing thief. But other than that, I’d say you two could be brothers. Maybe even twins.”
Eugene came back to the bed and let the movie play on. I was very happy to see that my Eugene was enjoying the film, even though he would never admit it out loud. He laughed, joked, his foot tapped to the music, and he was a wonderful commentator: “That horse is nuts”, “I like these two”, “Kiss her”, “Those dicks”, “They can’t arrest him”, “That bitch”, “Thank fucking God that they finally kissed!”
When the movie ended, we were both lying on our stomachs. I rubbed my eyes and looked down at the bed. Empty chip bags, crumpled candy wrappers, and crushed soda bottles and cans littered the sheets. The blankets had been bunched into makeshift pillows and the pillows had been turned into foot rests.
We’re slobs, I thought with a yawn.
That in turn made Eugene yawn. And so, that’s how we passed our first morning together. We watched a few more movies. I don’t remember what they were. I think by the third or fourth we had both passed out, curled next to each other on the bed, fear and worries forgotten.