Dorms of the Dead
– as narrated by –
Mike

---

Autumn contains seasons within seasons: Halloween season, football season, pumpkin spice season.  But not all of fall’s seasons are fun.  One of the lesser-loved seasons is flu season, and trust me, no one’s celebrating that.

At State, flu season always kicks off with a bombardment of informational pamphlets informing students to get their flu shots and look out for symptoms.  These pamphlets usually end up lining the gutters of the town; no one reads them because they haven’t changed since probably the 1970s.  

Well, everyone but Geena, that is.  Geena is a voracious reader; if it’s printed, then it’s read, whether it’s the labeling of a cereal box, the inner flap of a book’s dust jacket, or a very dry pamphlet from Student Health Services.  The day after the pamphlets began to appear (an event that, like the turning of the leaves, everyone saw as a sign that fall had begun), she appeared in my dorm with a band-aid stuck to her arm.

“You should really get the flu shot this year, Mike,” she informed me, flexing her bicep at me.  “It’s pretty serious.  They even updated the pamphlet.”

“No way,” I said.

She slung her backpack off her shoulder and pulled out one of the brochures.  It was weird to see a copy that wasn’t crumpled up and tossed onto the street.

It looked the same as it always did, with boring clip art, but I spotted the change pretty quickly.

 

THIS YEAR’S FLU SYMPTOMS TO WATCH OUT FOR:

• SNEEZING

• MUSCLES ACHES

• FEVER

• INCREASED LIBIDO (FEMALE)

• EXTREME AGGRESSION (FEMALE)

• INSATIABLE HUNGER (FEMALE)

• LOSS OF IMPULSE CONTROL (MALE/FEMALE)

• EYE COLOR CHANGE (GOLD OR YELLOW IRISES) (MALE/FEMALE)

• EXTREME FATIGUE / DELAYED REACTIONS (MALE)

• LACK OF COORDINATION (MALE)

“Is this a joke or something?” I asked.  “…increased libido?  Really?”

Geena grinned at me.  “That’s why I got the shot.  If it increases libido then you wouldn’t stand a chance if I got sick!”  She grabbed her breasts and massaged them at me, making a kissy face. 

I leaned forward at her invitation and buried my face into her cleavage; she rolled her breasts on either side of my face, leaning down to kiss the crown of my head.

“Are you sure you’re not already sick?” I joked, my voice muffled in her chest.

“I’ve got the love bug,” she replied.  “Go put a sock in your door… let’s have a quickie before class!”

I guess it goes without saying that I completely forgot to get the shot.  My mind was on other things… Geena’s body being the main one!

---

About two weeks later, I woke up to a knock on my door and groggily rose to find a flier stuck hastily on.  Up and down the dorm hall, every single cheap wooden door had the same notice: CLASSES CANCELED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

Across the hall from me, Deshaun emerged in a pair of pajama pants.  “Woo-hoo!” he exclaimed.  “…no classes?  Awesome.  What’s up, a snow day?”

“There’s no snow.  It’s the middle of October,” I said, turning back to peek out the window.  There was a thin layer of morning frost over the skeletal trees and their dry brown leaves, but nothing I could see that would cause classes to be canceled across the entire campus.

“Probably just an administrative day.  Close the curtains,” mumbled Kyle, my roommate, pulling his covers up over his head to try to block out the light.

On the quad, I saw a couple of sorority girls meandering slowly.  I watched them; they didn’t seem to be going anywhere at all.  Their footsteps left a path in the frost, and it was serpentine, zig-zagging back and forth all over the place.  The footsteps were dragging like they were drunk.  They paused, and one of them sneezed several times.

Another student strolled past, his thumbs hooked into his backpack.  

Without any warning, the two girls suddenly broke into a run and tackled him.  He squirmed half-heartedly, but it was two against one; they dragged him easily along the frosted grass, hands ripping at his clothes.

“Oh my God!” I cried.

Kyle sat up groggily.  “What?  What?”

“Come look!” I cried.

He swung out of bed and walked over to the window, peeking out.  The girls were gone; they had dragged the guy between a couple of buildings.  The only things left with his backpack, his shirt, a single shoe, and his jeans, torn off and left in a ragged heap.

“Looks like someone’s in for a good time,” observed Kyle.

“…no, no, you missed it!  A couple of girls grabbed him and– it was like they were attacking him,” I said.  “You didn’t see it.  It was weird.  Like– aggressive.”

“Zeta Kappa Thetas?” he asked with a sleepy yawn.  “Yeah, they’re pretty aggressive.”

“No, it wasn’t normal, it was– look at the footprints,” I said, pointing.  My breath fogged up the glass; I wiped it away.  Kyle peeked out, frowning.  

“Okay, so they had a crazy night and were drunk.  What’s your point, Mike?  Close the curtains, seriously.  What’s the point of enjoying canceled classes if you don’t let me sleep in?”

I closed the curtains, feeling a cold pit of discomfort in my gut.  Something about what I had just seen felt wrong.  I knew our university was different from other universities, but something about the brief little scene I had witnessed felt off, even for our campus.  There had been no playfulness in the way the two girls had grabbed the guy with the backpack, and the way he’d silently and sluggishly struggled hadn’t seemed like it was in good fun, either.

The morning dragged; most people seemed to want to sleep in and the dorm was strangely quiet, as if it were already winter break.

That afternoon, though, there was a sudden commotion outside, and I rose from my desk to pull back the curtains.  It was already well past noon but my roommate hadn’t woken up.

Across the campus, a plume of dark smoke was rising from the science labs.

“Whoa.  Hey, Kyle, wake up… I think the science building’s on fire!” I exclaimed.

He mumbled sleepily and didn’t move

“…Kyle, come here!  Seriously, there’s a bunch of smoke.  …hey, Kyle?  …?”Kyle

I walked over to his bed and pulled down the covers.  Kyle’s brow furrowed; he looked pale and sweaty.  His eyes cracked open, just barely, revealing bright gold irises like a cat’s.  “Let me sleep, Mike.”

“You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” he said, then sneezed.

I took a step back to avoid getting sprayed.  “Ew.  I think you’ve got the flu, man.  Your eyes look weird.”

“I’m fine, Mike.  Close the blinds.”

He pulled the sheets back over his head.  I peeked out the window again.  The smoke rising from the science building had darkened and curious students had emerged from the dorm to watch.  From the east side of the quad I spotted a small gaggle of girls walking toward us.

I did a double-take; there was something very off about them.  They weren’t dressed appropriately.  I don’t mean that they were wearing anything skimpy, although a couple were.  I mean they were dressed like they’d given up halfway through.  One was wearing black camisole and a pair of shorts like she’d just gotten up from bed, but she had no shoes or jacket despite the cold weather.  Another was wearing a plaid gray skirt and a matching knitted gray sweater, but no shirt, just a red lace bra.  In fact, every one of them seemed to be missing pieces of clothing.  Their feet dragged as they shambled over to the crowd gathered in front of the dorm.  I expected them to join it to watch the smoke, but the moment they arrived, all hell broke loose.

The one in the gray skirt, leading the pack, came to the crowd and grabbed the neck of the first guy she encountered, throwing him down onto the ground with shocking force.  She sank to her knees, straddling his legs, and sank down onto him right there on the ground, beginning to hump him furiously.  

The next one, in the shorts, grabbed the guy next to him; he tried to pull back but she was already wrangling him to the ground.  The remaining onlookers scattered, but none of them moved very fast.  In fact, most moved like they were sleep-walking, their movements in slow-motion.  The pack of girls descended on them like wolves, grabbing them and throwing them down, flinging themselves on top of them.

“Kyle!  I swear to God, this is crazy, now there’s an orgy!” I yelled.  “Right outside!  On the lawn!  Dude, you have to come see–”

The girl in the plaid was bouncing maniacally, the back of her skirt fluttering with the force of her movements, revealing a pale and uncovered butt; she leaned down over the body she was on top of and sank her teeth into his neck.  He didn’t even yell; a pool of bright-red blood spread over the silvery hoar-frost.  She continued feverishly bouncing on him, but it was like her front and her back were divorced from each other; while she humped him, her head moved, her hair concealing what she was doing.  I could guess, though, from the splattering crimson and the way the body beneath her stopped moving.

I think I was screaming, but my roommate never stirred.

On the lawn in front of me, the women were wrapping themselves on top of the men, pinning them, their bodies gyrating, but one by one, halfway through their desperate thrusting, they bent and began biting their victims, their teeth tearing into their skin.

I don’t know what was worse: the viciousness of the attacks, or the way the victims just lay there and silently let themselves be used.  A few tried to drag themselves away, but their actions were slow and jerky, and the women easily controlled them, pulling them back and biting their faces, necks, and shoulders.

Suddenly one of them, wearing nothing but a silk dressing robe, looked straight up at my window!

I had been screaming so loudly my throat was hoarse, but I immediately stopped when she turned.  Even from the second story I could see her eyes were bright, liquid gold.  Her skin was as pale as snow, and blood was running down her chin.  She stared at me and I stared back, trapped in her gaze.

She rose slowly, turning toward the building.

I yanked the curtains shut, hyper-ventilating.  “Kyle!  Kyle, we gotta go.  We gotta leave.  There’s a bunch of crazy girls out there, and they just– they ate a bunch of guys.  They attacked them and then ate them!  They’re dead, Kyle!  They’re all dead!  We’ve gotta go, they’re coming.  Kyle?”

“Mike, I’m tired.”

“You’re gonna end up dead if you don’t get up!” I said in frustration, going to shake his shoulders.  He shoved me back, but his arm moved like it was underwater, slowly.

I turned to my dresser and grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants, jumping into them.  I laced up my sneakers and pulled a black hoodie over my head.  I didn’t know where I was going to go, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay in my dorm room.  Not when there was a pack of crazy cannibal women outside the front door!

“Kyle, I’m serious.  I’m going.  It’s not safe here.  Something is really wrong.  I think… I think it’s that flu that the campus health services was talking about.  All of the girls outside, their eyes looked weird.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the flu shot later, after my math exam,” mumbled Kyle drowsily.

I bounced on my feet, not sure what to do.  It felt wrong to leave Kyle there, but he wasn’t moving and I couldn’t exactly drag him out of bed.

“…okay, look, I’m going to go get help.  You stay here.  Stay quiet,” I instructed.  I felt dumb; he didn’t need me to tell him that.  He was already asleep.

I took a deep, steadying breath and peeked out the curtains one last time.  The pack of women was gone.  Scattered over the lawn were the bodies.  Most of them had had their pants ripped off, or at least open, but their lower halves were otherwise intact.  Their heads, though… 

I closed the curtains firmly.  I didn’t want to look at them.

I went to my door and opened it, stepping out into the hallway.  My heart dropped.

Standing at the end of the hall was the girl in the gray plaid skirt!  Her face and chest were smeared with blood, and down her long bare legs I could see a shimmer of slick.  The poor bastard she’d mauled had apparently had at least one small bit of pleasure, in his last moments.  It made the whole thing more gruesome; she’d consumed his blood, his flesh, and his cum, but she apparently remained unsatisfied, ready for another body… mine!

She turned and stared at me, and her face, still smeared with blood, twisted into a sick smile; with a screech like a giant bird of prey, she charged!

I yelped and jumped back into my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it.  A moment later I heard a loud thump as her body slammed into it, followed by banging, scratching, and shrill moaning.  The noises that came out of her… they were half-pained, half-erotic.

I backed away, my heart jack-hammering in my chest.  I was bigger than her, a lot bigger, but the way she had moved was so inhuman and unpredictable I didn’t dare open the door to try to fight her.  I might be able to fight her but it wasn’t worth getting my nose bitten off in the process.

I looked back toward the window, wondering if I could open it up enough to jump out.  It seemed like a crazy plan, but things were already crazy and I had nothing to lose.  The only problem was that if I left, Kyle would be a goner.

There was another loud thump against my door, one that shook the cheap wood and nearly broke the door from its hinges.  The knob rattled; a second female voice was wailing on the other side.  The sound of the pounding and scratching doubled.  There were two now, maybe more on their way; I was trapped!

I pulled back the curtains and struggled with the rotating latch.  The pane of glass slowly, slowly began to inch out of the frame.  I turned the crack harder, faster, trying to get it open.

Outside my door the banging intensified.  The door shuddered again; it wasn’t designed for this kind of assault and I knew, any minute, it would give.

The window was only halfway open; it stopped.  I couldn’t tell if it was jammed or if it wasn’t designed to be opened any further.  In desperation, I grabbed the heaviest book from my desk (trigonometry) and flung it at the window.  The glass shattered, leaving a few wicked sharp shards hanging from the outer edges.  I put a foot on the sill, ready to leap, knowing this was going to hurt like hell.

And then, from outside my door, I heard two loud cracks, followed by silence.

I turned, waiting, listening.  The hammering on my door had stopped.

I swallowed.

Three sharp little knocks echoed on my door.  “…Mike?” called a familiar voice.

Geena!

I pulled my leg back from the window and hurried over to unlock the door.  I pushed the door open; it caught a little on the limp bodies piled outside of it.

Standing in the hallway like a guardian angel, wearing a pair of cargo pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a vest covered in pockets, there she was, her weight resting on one hip, a baseball bat hanging from her hand.  There was a coiled whip on her other hip, and a backpack slung over her shoulder.  Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her eyes: normal, warm brown, full of concern.

“Mike!” she cried, dropping the bat with a wooden clatter and throwing her arms around me

“Geena!  Oh my God, Geena!” I cried, falling into her arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.  I came as soon as I heard the news on the radio.”

“News?  What news?  Geena, what’s going on?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Mike?  The flu that campus health warned us about.  It’s spreading.  Nearly everyone on campus is infected.  I’m not going to sugar-coat it, Mike.  They’re zombies.  They’re completely out of their minds, and if we don’t leave, now, then we won’t get another chance.”  

She let me go and held me out at arm’s length, examining me.  Making sure I was okay, I guess.  Her gaze wandered from my face to the broken window behind me, and the trig book lying open on the floor.

“…hm.  And people say you’ll never use math in real life!” she quipped.

She strode over to the window, the glass crunching beneath her boots, and pulled off one of the huge, wicked sharp jags of glass that was left in the pane.  Her hands were protected by fingerless leather gloves.  Looking at her tactical pants and vest, her heavy combat boots, and her gloves, I felt a little under-dressed in my sweats.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked.

“Easy,” she said, tromping back over to the doorway to pick up her baseball bat.  “We’ll go back to my place, grab a joint, and wait for this all to blow over.”

Geena’s place was off-campus, and on the second story of her building.  It did seem like it was probably safer than the dorms.  For one thing, it had its own entrance; the dorms were packed with people.  Infected people.  My hall was for guys, most of whom seemed to be content to sleep, but it wasn’t the guys we had to worry about.

“Okay, your place,” I agreed.  “It’s only like, a fifteen-minute walk, right?”

“Wrong.  Campus security set up a barricade between the university and the town, so we’ll have to go around it, the long way,” said Geena.  “It might take us a few hours, so we’d better get started.  Stay close to me.  Here, you take this.”  She handed me the bat, then reached into her pocket and held out an energy bar.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“…it’s to eat, Mike,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not really hungry,” I said, looking at the crumbled bodies of the women in the hallway.  Their loose, messy hair obscured their faces but there were still smears of blood everywhere.

“Then put it in your pocket,” said Geena.  “Come on, let’s go!”

She led me down the hall, and I scampered after her.  Her strides were long and sure, a power walk that was almost, but not quite, a jog.

She pushed open the door to the stairwell and peeked in, slowly, head cocked and listening.  I could hear some scuffling echoing through the empty concrete column, but it seemed like it was coming from a couple of stories above us.

Geena turned to me and put a finger to her lips, then eased into the hallway, holding the door for me.  I edged in after her, taking the door and closing it as slowly and as quietly as I could.  Together, we descended the stairs, tip-toeing as the hollow sounds of moaning came down from above.

We turned on the first landing, and there was a loud, plastic thunk.

I looked down; the protein bar Geena had given me had fallen out of my pocket.

Above us, the moans turned to shrill shrieks.  Both of our heads snapped up; three stories above us, a half-dozen girls’ faces appeared, peeking over the metal banister to see what was below.  The second they spotted me they began wailing; the stairwell filled with the sound of pounding feet racing downward.

“RUN!” shouted Geena.  I didn’t need her to tell me!  I grabbed the handrail and dashed down the stairs; above us, a stampede of feet were approaching.

One of them flung herself over the handrail and dropped down through the stairwell, more than three stories, flailing and swiping at me as she plummeted down.  She hit the bottom floor with a wet crunch.

Geena’s boots hit the lower level and she ripped open the door, holding it for me; I raced outside, and she followed, slamming the door behind her.  She grabbed the baseball bat out of my hand and then jammed it through the two outside door handles, not a moment too soon; on the other side, I heard several bodies bash against the door.

“Not off to a great start,” I panted.  The cold autumn air was bracing.  The frost was gone, melted by the sun, but the air was still brisk.

“Are you kidding?  I think we’re doing fine.  We’re both breathing,” said Geena optimistically.

“What about the bat?”

“Forget the bat,” said Geena, pulling the whip off her hip and uncoiling it with a practiced flick of her wrist.  The end gave a small, familiar snap.  “I’ve got this.  Just stay close.  As long as we’re careful we’ll be fine.  Let’s get moving.”

Close on her heels, the two of us turned north, toward Spruce Hall and the student center.  To our right, there was still smoke rising from the science labs, and I couldn’t figure out why no one had put out the fire yet.

“We can cut through the theater and come out just next to the student center,” said Geena as she jogged.  “There’s a service tunnel that goes right under the student center and lets out on Chambord St.  Then we can follow that around the campus to my apartment.”

“Aren’t there a lot of student apartments on Chambord St.?” I asked.

“We’ll stay low and quiet,” said Geena.  “Don’t worry, Mike.  We’ve got this.”

The campus was eerily empty as we hurried across the wide quad, scattered with nothing but the ghostly tatters of the health department’s brochures.  It was too late for their warnings, now.  As we passed the engineering complex, I spotted a couple of women in the fountain outside.  Wearing nothing but t-shirts and panties, they were soaking wet but didn’t seem to care about the cold at all.  Pressed between there was a limp, naked body.  

The water of the fountain was pink.

“Keep moving,” Geena said to me in a low voice, and we passed by them at a distance, keeping our sights on the theater.

The building’s entrance was dark and looked empty; Geena slowed as we approached.  The marquee above the theater said that it was playing the Rocky Horror Picture Show that night, but something told me that the performance was canceled.

“Looks abandoned,” I said as we walked up to the doors.

Geena tugged on one; it didn’t budge.  “Locked,” she said.  “…stand back, Mike.”  

I took a big step back, watching her as she planted her feet and squared her shoulders.  The muscles in his back rippled as, with an elegant and well-placed lunge, she took the shard of glass from my window and jabbed it against the lock.  I heard it crack; there was a snap as something metal broke inside the lock, and the door swung open.

“Wow!  How did you do that?” I asked.

“Rosie’s always complaining that they ought to put in a deadbolt instead of a regular lock and that this one is so old that it’s about to break,” said Geena.  “…I hope she’s okay.”

“Rosie doesn’t live on campus.  I’m sure she’s fine,” I said as I followed Geena into the dim, empty lobby of the theater.  The building was quiet and there was no sign of life, but neither of us dared to make a noise as we walked deeper in.

We passed by a couple of silent lecture halls and the abandoned concession stand, making our way to the back where the main stage was.

“There’s an emergency exit backstage,” whispered Geena, pushing open the door.  I entered; it was dark except for the little lights on the floor showing where the aisles were.  I waited for my eyes to adjust as Geena brushed past me, easing down past the rows of seats.  She stopped half to the stage; the curtain fluttered, but there was no breeze.

I heard a soft, feminine moan and a dragging noise.  I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep myself from yelling.

Geena waved for me to stay close.  I jogged up to her; she grabbed a handful of my sweatshirt and tugged me after her, walking down to the front row of seats, toward the stage.

A red exit sign glowed on the right side of the theater; she turned toward it.  The heavy velvet curtains rippled again.

Geena stopped, and so did I.  We both waited, silently.

The curtains parted and a figure emerged, wearing a black corset, a string of pearls, and fishnets.  Long, red hair was sticking out from under a dark, curly, off-centered wig.

“It’s Dr. Frankfurter!” I exclaimed, at the same time Geena cried, “Oh, no!  Wendy!”

The silhouette turned toward us, but it wasn’t Wendy anymore.  Despite the dim red light, I could see her green eyes had turned into that dangerous liquid gold.  Her mouth hung slackly open, her teeth glistening, her red makeup smeared around her mouth like blood.  She must have been practicing her role when the infection had overtaken her; now, she was doomed to roam backstage as a Transylvanian transexual transvestite for the rest of her life.  

Poor Wendy.

“Stay back, Mike!” said Geena, pushing me behind her and planting herself between me and the ghoul who used to be our friend.  Wendy staggered forward, her movements a little twitchy, snarling and moaning, staring at me like a fresh piece of meat.

Geena snapped the whip, bringing down her arm in a powerful arc; it cracked, echoing through the theater, and Wendy stumbled back as a red line appeared on her face.  Confused, she reached up and touched it, then shook her head.  The wig fell to the ground; Wendy stumbled forward again, and Geena brandished the whip at her, over and over, backing up as she kept up a flurry of cracks to keep Wendy at bay.

“Keep going.  Keep going,” she instructed me, using the weight of her body to press me toward the backstage, all the while facing Wendy as Wendy kept stepping forward and then drawing back with a hiss as the whip fell on her.  It cut lines over her face and arms and breasts, slicing red lines of warning all over her skin, but she barely seemed to notice; she would take one step back and then two more forward, her only goal to get to me.  I was a fixation to her; she was drooling with hunger, and something else; one of her hands had reached between her legs to rub at her crotch, and as obscene as it was, it had the benefit of slowing her down just a little, making her steps a little more awkward.

I climbed the short stairs to the backstage and hurried through the dark jungle of ropes and stage props, seeking the emergency exit.  The moment I found it, I pushed it open.  Geena gave the whip one last smart crack and then tumbled out after me, pushing the door closed behind her.  I heard Wendy thump against it; Geena turned, using her back to press it closed.  Wendy was slight compared to Geena; Geena was plump and full-bodied, and she held the door shut easily.

“Now what?” I asked.  “The second you let go of the door, she’ll follow us!”

“We’ll just have to wait for a while until she gets bored.  She can’t see you so she’ll leave, eventually,” said Geena, keeping herself braced against the exit as Wendy clawed uselessly at the other side.  “…maybe we’ll have time for a quickie.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“…look, Mike, where there’s conflict, there’s passion!  You can’t blame me for getting all hot while we’re fighting for our lives!”

She had a point.  Seeing her use that whip had definitely awoken something in me.  I was a little ashamed to admit it, but the truth was, all of the excitement of the day had me feeling like I could run ten miles and fuck for hours.

“…are you serious about the quickie?” I asked, looking around.  We were in the back of the theater, outside, but there was no one around.

“…I mean, sort of.  I’m serious if you’re serious,” said Geena, cocking her head at me.  Behind us, Wendy was still scrabbling at the door.  “…we’ve never done it outdoors before.”

I couldn’t believe we were actually considering this.

“…probably better to have both of us blocking the door,” added Geena, a slow smile spreading onto her lips.

“Oh my God.  This is nuts.  This is all nuts,” I said, but I walked over to press my body against hers, under the pretense of helping her brace against the door.  Our lips met and I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of her.  Leaning against the emergency exit, we made out, our tongues dancing and exploring each other’s mouths.  Geena slung the whip over my shoulders and used its tail to tug me in closer, and I reached up to grab her breasts and fondle them. 

I know it sounds crazy, but at that moment it made perfect sense.  We might as well have been the last two people alive in the world.  It was just the two of us, and in that moment there was an unspoken agreement to look out for each other at all costs, to protect each other and get through it all together.

Geena reached down to pull down my sweats, just to my hips, baring my ass to the cold outdoor air.  It was a wake-up call I needed.  She slapped my ass and I squirmed into her, rubbing my erection against her thighs.  We ground ourselves against the door, with Wendy on the other side, softly breathing each other in as we pressed our bodies together.  There was none of the frantic violence of the zombies, and it was grounding.  Even romantic.

By the time I felt Geena’s hand grasping my erection and coaxing an orgasm out of me, Wendy had, just as Geena said, lost interest, and there was no more banging on the door behind us.  Geena’s intuition had, as usual, been correct.

I breathed out as I came in Geena’s hand, splattering cum on the ground between her boots.  I leaned into her, resting my chin on her shoulder.

“…today’s kinda weird,” I said contemplatively.

“It’s not over yet,” said Geena, tugging my pants back up and rearranging herself.  “We’ve got to keep going, Mike.  We’re halfway there.  Once we get to Chambord St. it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away.”

I stifled a yawn.  “I’m tired now.”

“…you can nap when we get to my place,” said Geena, giving me a firm slap on the ass.  I jumped; she side-stepped and grabbed my wrist, pulling me after her.  

My legs felt watery but I jogged after her.  There was a line of trees behind the theater and, beyond it, a drainage ditch surrounded by a chain-link fence.  Past it, I could see the service tunnel Geena had mentioned, a little concrete culvert just tall and wide enough for a truck to pass through.  The hill above it was steep and topped with a rocky formation.  Not unpassable by foot, but definitely a lot trickier to get through than the tunnel.

The chain-link fence had a gate that was swinging open.  Our luck seemed too good to be true.

From the service tunnel, we heard a familiar desperate noise, a high-pitch groan.

“…shit,” I said.  “There’s more in the tunnel.”

“Well, at least there’s none out here,” said Geena.

As if her words had placed a curse on us, we heard a loud, shuffling crunch of leaves, and both of us turned in alarm.  But the person approaching us was a guy, not a girl.  He was dragging himself slowly toward us as if he was carrying something very heavy, though all he had on him was a camera hanging from a strap around his neck.  Only wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a t-shirt, he looked exhausted; his eyelids were drooping over his gold-colored eyes.

“…Pete!” I cried.  I recognized him from a photography exhibition Geena had taken me to a few weeks ago.  

“…Mike, right?” he said after a long pause, dragging himself wearily up to us.  He sneezed into his elbow; both me and Geena took a step back.  “You don’t look so good, Mike.”

“Are you kidding me?  You look awful,” I said.

“I know.  I think I got it.  …I came out here to try to get some pictures, document all this craziness.  But I’m nearly out of film… and time,” said Pete, sneezing again.  He looked up at Geena.  “You haven’t turned?”

Geena slapped her arm authoritatively.  “I got my flu shot.”

“Wow.  Smart,” said Peter, after another long pause.  He seemed to be struggling to stay awake.  

“Pete, where are you going?” I asked.

Peter seemed confused by the question.  “I don’t know.  I was just… trying to get some shots,” he said, holding up his camera.  “I know I’m done for, but if some of my photographs survive, well… that’s something, right?”  He looked around, apparently confused.  “It would be nice to get some close-ups of the girls, huh.”

“I don’t think you wanna get very close to any of them.  They have this habit of fucking guys and then eating their faces,” I said.

“Yeah.  I saw.  …there’s worse ways to go than getting fucked to death,” said Pete.

From the ditch, a few ghoulish moans floated over to us.  Pete turned, looking over, then looked back at us.

“…are you guys trying to get through the tunnel?”

“Yeah, but it sounds like there’s at least three or four zombies in there,” said Geena.  “We’ll just climb over.”

“You don’t have to.  I can lure them out.”

“Pete, we can’t ask you to do that,” said Geena immediately.

Pete sneezed into his elbow again.  “I’m a goner, Geena.  My eyes are already yellow, aren’t they?  Soon I won’t even be able to talk.  Let me draw them out.  I can get some shots, and make my last moments count.  Like I said, there’s worse ways to go.”

“Pete, they’ll eat you.”

“Well, I’ve always said I’m a snack,” said Pete with a small, tired shrug.  “I’ll get the tunnel clear for you, if you could just take my camera.  I want my photos to show what happened here.  That would mean a lot.”

Geena’s expression was pained as she walked forward and put a hand on Pete’s shoulder.  “Pete, I promise you.”

Pete smiled, his reactions delayed.  “Thanks, Geena.  I really do appreciate that.  …one more, for the road.”

He held up the camera, and Geena and I put our arms around each other and forced ourselves to smile as he snapped our portrait.  He pulled the camera off his neck and Geena slung it around her shoulders.

Then, Pete turned and slowly ampled toward the fence, crossing the threshold of the gate and crossing the ditch toward the tunnel.  As he walked, he unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock, and when he came to the entrance of the tunnel, he gathered up his last bit of strength and bellowed, “COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!  DINNER IS SERVED FOR THE FIRST ZOMBIES WHO WANT IT!”

The reaction was immediate.  From inside the culvert, multiple voices rose in a shrieking cacophony of excitement.  Pete turned and tried to run, but he was already too far gone; his run was more like a slow, dragging jog, and he was only halfway back to the gate when they emerged.

There were four of them, beautiful Zeta girls with smeared make-up, their clothing askew.  They burst from the entrance of the service tunnel and made a beeline toward Pete, already tearing off their own clothes, their tongues lolling at the enticing piece of flesh before them.

“Mike!  Let’s go!” exclaimed Geena.  I realized I had just been standing there, gawking; Geena grabbed my wrist and yanked.  I stumbled and caught myself, hurrying after her.

Pete continued to shamble away but the women were faster, the infection not giving them the same kind of fatigue as their male counterparts.  They gained quickly, throwing off their clothes as they ran, and by the time they reached him, all four were completely naked.  They tackled him to the ground, grinding themselves against him, ripping away his clothes, actually biting each other over who would get the privilege of impaling herself on him.

Pete’s arm rose in the air and he gave us one last thumbs-up, a salute to the demise he had chosen, as his face, his crotch, and his chest were buried under the puffy, desperately needy pussies of the infected girls.  I stumbled again, but Geena’s grip on me was like a vice.  She pulled me across the field.  Just as we got to the tunnel’s entrance, I heard a weird, wet ripping sound, and I hoped it wasn’t Pete’s head.

We entered the artificial concrete cavern, recently evacuated, and trotted through it to the other side.  A gentle slope led up to the street; the usually-busy thoroughfare was empty.

“Did it!” said Geena confidently.  “Now we just have to get to my place.  But we’re off campus.  So we’re golden!”

“Can we take a breather, rest a bit?” I asked.  Seeing Pete go down had been rough.  Even if he seemed okay with it.

“No,” said Geena curtly.  “We have to keep going, Mike.  Come on.  On the sidewalk.  Stay low, just in case.”

She crouched, keeping herself behind the row of cars parked on the street.  I copied her, though I was pretty sure my form was bad; Geena made it look easy, but I found it harder to keep my body hunched without pitching forward.  My balance was off, probably because of low blood sugar, I figured.  I wish I hadn’t dropped the energy bar she’d given me back in the dorm.

The two of us hiked down the street, past familiar shops that were mysteriously all closed.  Some had signs in the windows: “CLOSED TODAY,” “EMERGENCY CLOSING,” “NOT OPEN UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.”  It was chilling to see the town so completely shut down.

“Why’s the whole town like this?  I thought it was just the university camp–” I began.

“Shh!” hissed Geena.

We were less than two blocks from her place, and we hadn’t met anyone at all.  But suddenly, Geena stopped short.  It took me a second to realize before I stopped too; I nearly bumped into her.  I was a little out of breath from our hurried walk down Chambord St. and I was desperate for a quick break.  I leaned against a parked car, closing my eyes for a moment.

A single, lonely voice wailed through the street.

“Another zombie?” I asked.

Geena peeked over the hood of the car, and I heard her gasp softly.

“…Geena?  …what’s wrong?” I asked.

“…oh, Rachel.”

“Rachel?”

I forced myself to sit up and peer through the window of the car.  There, in the middle of the abandoned street, was Rachel.  She had a pair of white capris and sandals on, her top a breezy little t-shirt, and completely inappropriate clothes for the weather.  Her nails looked chipped, which was extremely uncharacteristic for Rachel.  She was dragging one foot as she limped down the center of the street, her hair loose and tangled, her expression glazed.  As I watched, she gave another low moan, looking around as if she was lost.  She scanned the area, then turned to stare at me.  

I stared back.

It took me a moment to realize I was supposed to duck.

“Oh, shit!”  I ducked my head down, but it was too late.  She’d spotted me.

With a shriek, she turned and began limply briskly toward the sidewalk, double-time.

“Mike!” snapped Geena.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I froze!” I said, scrambling toward her.  But she was already rising to meet the oncoming threat.

“RACHEL!” she barked authoritatively, getting between two parked cars to block Rachel’s path.  Rachel actually stopped, cocking her head and staring, her gold eyes gazing blankly into Geena’s.  “Rachel, get back.  I don’t want to hurt you!”

“….braaaains.  Coooock!” garbled Rachel, raising a hand.

“Mike is mine!  Back!  Back!”  Geena uncoiled her whip and cracked it.  Rachel snarled but stepped back, then, deciding Geena would be too hard to get through, turned to go around the other side of the car.

“Get… away… from my… boyfriend!” barked Geena, following her and snapping the whip.  Rachel snarled and roared, lunging and clawing; Geena landed a blow against her face, and then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, pressing their bodies together.  “Rachel.  RACHEL!  Leave him alone.  Leave– him– alone!” she grunted as she held her.  Rachel snapped and snarled, but her arms were pinned.

“Mike!  What are you doing?  Run!” called Geena.

I realized I’d just been standing there.  Dumb.  I obeyed Geena, breaking into a slow run toward her apartment building.  I knew it was me that Rachel wanted, not Geena, but I still worried.  I listened to Geena only because she seemed so sure, and up until now, she hadn’t led me wrong.  But I still felt my stomach sinking as I left her.

By the time I spied her apartment I was exhausted and had slowed to a walk.  I kept a hand on the line of parked cars to steady myself; I felt like I’d never been more tired in my life.  Only the promise of Geena’s safe, warm apartment kept me going.

I was so distracted by the thought that I completely missed the woman lingering outside.

“BRAINS!” she exclaimed, pouncing, and I let out a cry as she knocked me to the ground, her hands ripping my sweatshirt open.

A moment later, a plank swung out of the air and caught the side of her head; with a look of frozen shock she tumbled off of me and onto the pavement, body twitching like a spider hit directly with bug spray.

I looked up; Geena towered over me.  She dropped the plank and then leaned down, pulling me over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed as she heaved me up.  I had no idea she was so strong.

“It’s just adrenaline, Mike,” grunted Geena, hefting me up.  I had never, as an adult, been carried like that, and being toted around by a powerful woman like Geena… well, it was amazing.  I let myself go limp as she carried my body up the stairs to her apartment like I was nothing more than groceries!

Inside, she deposited me on the couch, then turned to lock the door.

“…we did it,” I said.

“We sure did,” agreed Geena.

“I gotta use the bathroom.”  I forced myself off the couch, even though it was so inviting I was tempted not to bother.  I made my way to Geena’s bathroom, stifling a yawn, content that we’d somehow managed to make it.

But once I had closed the door and glanced in the mirror, I suddenly realized.

I didn’t have low blood sugar.  Low blood sugar doesn’t make your eyes turn gold.

I threw open the door.  “Geena!” I cried.

Geena was leaning with her forearms and breasts on the counter; she offered me a smile, a sad one.

“…I’ve got it.  I’ve got it.  You knew, didn’t you?  Geena, why did you spend all day bringing me back here if you knew?” I cried.

“Because I love you, Mike.”

“But I’m doomed!  …Geena, you could’ve been killed escorting me here.”

“It was a chance I was willing to take, Mike.  You deserve to be comfortable,” said Geena, tenderly, coming around from the counter and embracing me.  I buried myself in the warm familiarity of her cleavage.  

“I’m so tired.”

“I know, Mike.  I know.  You can rest now.  It’s okay.  I’ve got you.”

I took a deep, steadying breath.  Even after the day’s adventures, Geena still smelled as fresh as a bakery, like vanilla and rising dough, airy and homey.  I leaned into her, and she led me back to her couch to lay down.

“I can’t believe it.  I can’t believe you did all that, knowing…”

“Of course I did, Mike.  One last adventure,” said Geena, sitting on the edge of the couch with me and running her hands through the hair on my chest.  “Don’t tell me it wasn’t worth it.  It was.  It was worth it to me.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I love you, Geena.”

“I love you, too.  Rest now, Mike.  It’s okay.  You’re safe now.”

I closed my eyes.  She was right.  It was okay, and I was safe.

I let myself relax, and the last thing I remembered was Geena’s smile and her warm, brown eyes, not a flick of gold in that deep chocolate gaze. 

And then… silence.

---

“The end,” I concluded.

“Damn, Mike, that was dark!” exclaimed Oz.

“It was romantic,” corrected Jung.  “Bittersweet.  Like Romeo and Juliet!”

“I thought the whole point of us telling scary stories was to get your mind off Geena, and instead, you made a whole story about her,” said Harry, shaking his head in a good-natured way as he packed up the bong again.

“If they made it into a movie I’d watch the hell out of it,” said Oz, nodding approvingly.

“But I don’t think it’s the best story,” said Jung.

“No, that would be mine,” agreed Oz.

“Yours?  Get real.  Mine was the best.  No zombies, ghosts, or magic.  Just plain ol’ crazy people,” said Harry.  “Also, you guys didn’t let me finish mine.  I should get extra points for that.”

“We’re not doing points.  We’re voting,” said Jung.  “Mike, get us paper.  We can write down our picks for best story, and then the loser gives the winner a blowjob.”

“Wait, what?” I exclaimed.

“…were you not listening when we came up with the rules for the contest?” asked Oz in exasperation.

“I– but I– what– no!” I stammered.

“Don’t worry, Mikey, I’m sure you won’t lose.  It was a real good story,” said Harry reassuringly, swiping my notebook off my desk and tearing out a few sheets.  He passed them around.  “Go ahead and cast your vote… there’s absolutely nothing to be scared of!”

– To be continued… –