Free Love in the Time of Zombies by Jill James Page B

saying it aloud. “There is no more forever. You know that, right?” My heartbeat was racing, thumping hard. “We don’t even know if there will be a tomorrow.”
    His hand slid down and cupped my cheek. “There will always be a tomorrow. The sun will rise. The sun will set. The Earth will go on spinning.”
    I tried for lightness. “The sun could go supernova or something. Like they used to show on those Discovery Channel programs.” My voice hitched to a stop as the twinkle left his extraordinary greenish-brown eyes.
    He grabbed my hands, massaging my fingers. “Don’t do that, Em. This isn’t about me getting my rocks off. You are more than that.”
    I pulled my hands back and covered my breasts with a blanket. “I don’t want this to mean more than that. Just sex. Can’t you understand that? There is no future. Not for us. Not for the world. Not for anyone.”
    Seth moved closer until I had to stop or fall off the mattress onto the rooftop. His fingers grazed my chin and raised my face. The warmth had returned to his eyes.
    “There used to be a saying when I was younger. There are girls you fuck and there are girls you marry. You, Emily Gray, are not one of those just for fucking.”
    He laughed; his head thrown back and a twinkle in his eyes. “You should see your face. I’m not proposing marriage or anything close. But you are better than a one-night or several nights stand. You are special, Emily and I’d like to be with you until one of us doesn’t want to be. Can you do that?”
    I dropped the blanket and launched myself at him. We fell backward on the mattress. Tears filled my eyes and dripped onto Seth’s face. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”
♦♦♦
    Dawn broke and the sun rose over the Streets of Brentwood. Commander Jack Canida rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. He hadn’t gone to sleep yet. The news continued to filter in from Concord Hospital and Jed Long, the ham radio operator there. Survivor camps were continuing to fall all over Concord and Pleasant Hill. One by one, they were calling for help over the static-filled airwaves, and then falling silent. Jed mentioned the squeal on the radio from each location but damned if Jack knew what it all meant. His MOS in the army had been artillery, not communications.
    He looked up when Paul Luther entered the communications trailer. A nod and he turned back to where Beth was delicately turning knobs to find one of the small communities they talked to each week for an update.
    “Sunvalley, come in. This is Streets of Brentwood. Sunvalley, are you there?”
    Jack’s fists tightened at his sides. The Sunvalley group was bigger than their own. Over five hundred people were using the mall roofs of the shopping center in the heart of Pleasant Hill. He’d visited there once in the early days to set up communications between the groups.
    “Streets of Brent—wood. This is Sun—ey. You’re breaking up. We are having trouble reaching several groups here. College Park is off the dial. Nothing but that low hum we are getting all over the airwaves.”
    “Sunvalley. Please describe the hum.”
    “Streets group, it is a low-level squeal. Comes and goes on the dial. High-pitched. Sets my fillings to aching,” the voice laughed.
    Jack looked to Paul who just shrugged. He leaned over Beth’s shoulder. “Try to get the College Park group.”
    She turned the dials to the setting on her piece of paper. Nothing there, but the static and the low hum. Beth rubbed her cheek with the heel of her hand.
    “It does make your fillings ache. I’ve only got the one, but it’s like biting a fork when you eat.” She shuddered. “I hate that.”
    “Keep trying, Beth. Go down the list and mark who you reach and who you don’t.”
    He tapped Paul’s arm and jerked his head. They both stepped outside of the trailer. The stairs creaked with their weight. Jack moved away from the trailer and Paul followed.
    “I don’t know what to think. Do you think