Red Death

I woke in the early morning of the following day, hair on the back of my neck prickling and I was filled with dread. At first I thought it was the fact that the power had gone out, plunging our room into sudden darkness, that had roused me from my sleep. But I was wrong.
I sat up, hands fumbling for my gun which had been lost somewhere in the bed. Both me and Eugene had tossed and turned quite often. I found it hidden beneath his left thigh. Eugene stirred next to me, brown hair rumpled from sleep. His voice was quiet, confused, and utterly exhausted.
“What’s wrong, Kiddo?” His Alabama drawl was thick with sleep.
He stayed on his stomach, gaze on the pistol in my hands. I didn’t have to answer him. He saw the wide army of shadows pass by the window. He heard the frightful moans. A blood streaked hand slapped against the window, causing us both to jump. Its owner gave a dead howl. I heard Eugene’s heart pick up speed and he inhaled sharply.
I tapped him with my bare foot, shushing him, “It’s alright. They can’t get in.”
I was lying. Of course they could come in. All they had to do was push against the broken door, knock the chair down, and we’d be Zombie food.
Stupid me, I chided, what were you thinking when you kicked down that door? Easy – you weren’t thinking at all you stupid idiot!
I just said this to calm Eugene. I didn’t want him scared. I also said it to try and compose myself. His strong hand grabbed my ankle, needing to hold onto something alive and real. I could feel his quickened pulse and the trembling in his hands. He kept his eyes glued on the window.
“What kind are they?”
“Creepers. They’re the slowest and dumbest of the Zombies. I’d say there are about 20 or so of them. Some will stay and hide out in the rooms that are open and unlocked, waiting for prey to come to them. Most will wonder off by day break.”
There was a loud crash outside, metal hitting pavement. Eugene sat completely up; the waning moonlight illuminated his handsome face. His lips were in a firm line and his eyes were wide, I could see the reflection of the disappearing stars in them.
“What was that, Kiddo?”
“One ran into the bike.” I whispered.
The sound of metal being pulled apart reached our ears. We heard glass shatter and leather being torn. I gulped and checked the safety on my gun. Seeing that it was on I flicked it off.
“And what was that?” He asked, voice strained.
“They’re destroying the bike.”
“Fucking hell!” He swore a little too loudly.
Several Creepers drew close to the room again. They peered in, rotting eyes gazing at us but not really seeing us. They mostly relied on scent and sound, though they have been known to use sight occasionally. I hushed Eugene again, pleading that he be quite.
“The sound startled them.” I explained, “They needed to eliminate the threat.”
“Eliminate the threat?! That was our ticket out of here.” He wasn’t even trying to keep his voice quiet.
His voice was anxious. His breathing was much too fast, much too loud. He was on the brink of panicking.
Not that I blamed him. We’d been lulled into a false sense of security. We’d let ourselves relax. We’d allowed ourselves to forget about the outside world for those brief short hours.
Of course he’s freaking out, I thought sadly, He’d just received the wakeup call from hell.
I crawled over to Eugene, moving as slowly as I could as to not bring attention to our room. The mattress creaked under my shifting hands and knees. I put aside the gun and grabbed his face with both of my hands. Silently, I begged him to look at me. Blue eyes locked with yellow and I placed my forehead to his.
“Listen to me,” I said, “as long as I’m here, as long as you are with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I won’t let the Zombies get to you. Ok? You’re safe with me, Eugene.”
When he didn’t respond I resorted to using a comforting trick that had been used on me. I moved so that I was behind him, my chest pressed against his back. I wrapped my arms around him, placing my hands over his. I crossed them over his chest so that our combined hands touched his shoulders, forming an ‘x’. I began to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out.
“Breathe with me, Eugene.” I whispered in his ear, “Breathe with me. Breathe deeply.”
At first he struggled, fought. It was at this time when I realized what horrors he must’ve witnessed in Las Vegas, how trapped he must’ve been, how trapped he must feel now. I doubted that the man had time to mourn, time to grieve, time to have an emotional breakdown. I had un-wittedly allowed myself these luxuries while in the armory.
“Calm down, Eugene.” I whispered, “Breathe with me. Don’t break, not now. You’ll have time for that later. Breathe with me. Ok? Breathe, don’t break.”
Call it a case of tough love but I needed him to regain control. I couldn’t afford to let him have a breakdown just yet. If the Zombies managed to get into the motel room we’d be goners. I couldn’t deal with 20 Creepers on my own. I was good but I wasn’t that good.
I kept a firm hold on Eugene and pinned his legs beneath mine. I had the Bobcat genes to thank for my strength. I rested my head on his shoulder so that our cheeks were touching. I kept my breathing steady, smooth, and composed. In, out, in, out, in, out.
“Breathe, don’t break. Breathe, don’t break.” Became my steady chant that I whispered over and over again into his ear; I kept it in time with my breathing.
It took a few minutes but Eugene finally began to relax. The Creepers dispersed again, no longer interested in the mow silenced room. I didn’t want to loosen my hold until I was 100% sure that he was done with his panic attack.
“Can I let you go?” I asked. “Are you calmed down?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.” I whispered, as I slowly loosened my hold on him and moved my legs. “I’m letting you go now, Eugene. If you start to freak out again we’ll have to go back to step one.”
I let go and sat down next to him. When I turned my face to the window, I could see that the sun was starting to kiss the horizon. We sat in silence for quite some time. I was waiting for Eugene to be the first to speak. By the time he spoke up most of the Creepers had wandered off or slipped into any unlocked motel rooms.
“Thank you.” He whispered.
His tone was hard to pinpoint. It was somewhere between anger, shame, and curiosity. I decided to let him own the conversation, to let him do most of the talking. I kept my eyes glued onto the outside. I could see the mutilated remains of the motorcycle and I felt a twinge of sadness to see its beauty destroyed.
“What’s with the nail polish by the way?” I asked, attempting to change the way of his thoughts, “I never got around asking about it yesterday.”
He let out a small puff of air that I took as an attempt at a laugh, “I was wondering when that would come up. No doubt you think I’m a faggot for it?”
“Well, no, not really. I didn’t take you as a gay man.”
He shot me a sideways look and a tiny smirk, “Good. Cause I’m not.” He then looked down at both his fingers and toes. He held out one of his hands for me to study, “They do look nice though, don’t they?”
I allowed myself to study his painted nails. Not only were they a lime green, he’d also taken the time to put yellow stripes throughout it, giving it a zebra effect. I leaned over and took a closer look at his toe nails. They matched perfectly. I couldn’t help but smile.
“I find them very pretty.”
I don’t think pretty should’ve been the proper word but Eugene didn’t take any offense.
“This little habit of mine started when my father was left to take care of me on his own. I was a rather wayward child, full of piss and vinegar. Whenever he had the chance he would be taking me places, like amusement parks, zoos, and museums. I had a habit of running off so he started to paint my nails, so that it would be easier to describe me to the rent-a-cops and such.” He had a soft, far off look in his blue gaze, “When Dad died, I sort of kept doing it. I discovered that I had a knack for it.”
“Why keep doing it though? To help you remember him?”
“Nah,” he shook his head and looked me straight in the eye, “There’s no time to mourn for the people you lose, Kiddo. It’s best to focus on those that are still with you. They’re the ones that matter the most. No, I kept doing it because I find it relaxing. It sooths me, calms me, and I enjoy it.”
I mulled this over in my head, No time to mourn for those you’ve lost. “How often do you paint them? Like change their color or to patch up the chipped paint?”
“Huh…I don’t really have a set time limit. It’s pretty much whenever I feel bored or need to clear my head or to get away from the real world. During the 10 Year War I think I was painting them every other day or so.”
“I bet the military loved that.” I joked.
“Oh! Of course they did,” he laughed, sarcasm dripping into his tone, “But I took every punishment, every beating, and every name call that they could throw at me. There was no way in hell that they’d break me of this habit.”
“How many potential girlfriends did you lose because of your nails?” I asked.
“A fair few. But, oh well. Everyone has their quirks. It’s what makes us human. It’s pretty shallow if you can’t look past the outside of someone or past one strange thing that they do. It’s who the person is on inside that counts.”
“Their loss,” I said, “I think you’re a pretty cool guy.”
He gave me a crooked smile and rocked sideways to knock his shoulder against mine, “You’re one of the few, Kiddo. But, I think that’s enough of me…what of you? How many potential boyfriends have you lost because of the way you look or something you did?”
I laughed for several long minutes for I was able to answer, “Have you taken a good look at me?! I’m not actually human and I’m definitely not dating material! No, no, no – I’ve never had a boyfriend, Eugene. Probably never will.”
Eugene was quiet for a little while after those words. At first I thought that maybe I said something wrong. I had just made up my mind to move away from him when I felt him throw his left arm over my shoulders. Eugene pulled me to him, crushing me to his side. His warm lips touched the top of my head.
“Their loss then.” He whispered into my curly hair, tucking a stray lock behind one of my ears. “Cause I think you’re pretty amazing, Kiddo.”
I nudged my head against his for a brief moment, “Thank you.” Then I turned my yellow gaze back to the outside world, “Best we start moving again. More and more Zombies will start to pick up our scent.”
We pulled apart and I called dibs on the bathroom first, sprinting for it. I splashed water on my face and did my best to detangle my hair. When I came back out, Eugene had downed his blood splattered military uniform once more. He was just finishing up the buckles of his jacket when he looked up at me.
I was met with the gaze of the man I had first encountered. Gone was the mindset of a normal human. Gone was the vulnerable man I had comforted. Gone was the gentle soul I had shared a bed with last night. The solider had returned and he was ready for his orders.
As Eugene took his turn in the bathroom I shed the feelings of comfort and safety that the room had provided me. I stripped off the clothes I had slept in and I too reacquainted myself with my armor and boots. The clothes I had worn over them were gore ridden and I decided to leave them in the motel room.
I dug through my one bag, searching for new coverings. I was to go back out into the real world. I needed to hide again.
I slipped on a clean pair of jeans and weighed the orange zippered hoodie in my hands. I sighed and slipped it over my head, feeling my spirits sag. I reached for my hood and instead felt Eugene’s hands.
Startled, I spun around, eyeing him nervously. His blue eyes were sad and his lips were in a firm line.
“Why keep wearing a hood, Kiddo?” He asked. “Why stay hidden from the world?”
“Because at least half the people we’ll meet will try to kill me!” I snapped, “Not everyone is as understanding or as welcoming as you, Eugene.”
He locked his eyes with mine, “Then fuck them.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re human!”
He gave me a grin that made me feel warm inside, “You’re with me now, Kiddo. As long as I’m by your side, you don’t have to be afraid. If someone wants to hurt you, they’ll have to go through me first. We’re in this together now. Just you and me.”
I grinned back, “Just you and me, eh?”
“Just you and me, Kiddo. We’re a team.” He said and reached out his hand for me to shake, “Partners?”
I took it, “How about friends?”
“I can do friends.” He said tenderly, meaning every word. “Now, which vehicle would you like for me to hotwire, Kiddo? Your choice; there’s a red truck, a grey van, a silver car, and a yellow beetle.”
I grinned, “I like that silver one.”
“Silver one it is then.”