Free The Turning: A Tale of the Living Dead by Kelly M. Hudson Page B

to kill a lot more people before
it’s all over. So get the fuck over it and act like a man.”
She turned and walked over to the office and pulled down the boxes.  Jeff watched
her, stunned.  Then he got angry. 
    “What the fuck is your problem?”
he snarled. 
    “I don’t have a problem.  I have a
pussy.  You seem to be one,” she said.
    Jeff hopped to his feet, all rage
and fury now, his arms spinning wildly around him as he gesticulated his anger.
    “You’re one to talk.  All that
yapping you were doing when I threw you boyfriend out the window.  Maybe I
shouldn’t have listened and just given you a lecture, instead,” he said. 
    Jenny spun and stomped over to
him. 
    “Maybe you should have,” she
said.  “Maybe you should have told me to wake the fuck up.  But you did, in
your own way.  When you threw Bill off the balcony I had to face the facts. 
Bill wasn’t coming back.  Our old world wasn’t coming back.  All there was left
was zombies and us.  That’s it.  Me and you and a bunch of walking corpses. 
That’s all there was and that’s all there is.”
    They were face to face, their
noses almost touching.  Her eyes were squinting and her mouth was pulled back
into a fierce scowl; his eyes were wide and his eyebrow arched, his lips
pressed together so tight they were white. 
    “Fuck you,” he said.
    “No.  Fuck you,” she said.
    Their lips met.  They kissed. 
They smashed their bodies so hard together Jeff thought their bones would turn
to powder and their skin would meld.  He turned her around, grabbed her pants,
jerked them down to her ankles, her lace panties going with them, and bent her
over one of the tables behind him.  He shoved her down and held her there,
using his free hand to get his pants down, and rose up against her naked
buttocks.  He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her back towards him so her
back was bowed, and he took her.  Hard.  She grunted and pushed back against
him, matching his thrusts, both of them screaming in a primal language.  She
pulled away, slapped his face and jumped up on him, forcing him to the ground
as she rode him, in charge now, raking her nails across his chest as she took
him and he took her.
    When they came, it was together,
and it was so hard they both later said that they heard the glass in the
windows shatter. 
    And then it was over, and they
slumped against each other, sweating and bleeding and panting.
    And smiling.
     
    It was some time later when they
recovered, neither saying a word about what had happened between them.  They’d
slept some, exhausted, but now it was time to get to work.
    Wordlessly, they fortified the
broken window in the office, finding some nails and spare boards to seal it
up.  They boarded up the door, too, just in case.  After that, the two of them
went to the front doors of the building.  The doors were made of steel and
sturdy, with locks in both handles, latches at the top and bottom going into
the floor and ceiling to anchor them, and two deadbolts above the handles, crossing
the doors.  They nailed a board in each corner, just to add some reassurance. 
Outside the entrance, they heard the dead, their fingers scrabbling across the
surface, moaning and pressing against the doors.   
    They went into the storage area
next and found, after discussing their earlier bout of sex, that indeed, the
windows in the back had exploded outward.  Glass littered the floor, gleaming
in the overhead fluorescent lights.  They looked around the room but found
nothing. 
    Smoke drifted in through the
broken windows, one on the north side, the other on the south.  Most of the
smoke came from the south side.  Jeff went to look and Jenny joined him.  They
could see, slightly to their right and partially hidden by the Food Bank
building itself, their old apartment building burning down.  They watched for a
while as the flames licked and spat and sizzled and sparked, and then the fire
died down,