Around me, various metal obstructions dotted the roof. Industrial air conditioning units, fans, elevator accesses, lots of things I didn’t recognize. I did recognize fighting when I heard it on the other side of a raised wall. Drawing my Colt, I hurried around the left of the structure listening to Julie and Randy shouting and telling people to stop what they were doing.

  Cautiously, I prepared to charge around the wall and pick a target depending on the situation.

  Why wasn’t Cheyenne cursing anymore?

  I moved around the corner.

  My gut clenched. Two large men held Randy. Julie kicked and squirmed against two more. Demetri was held in a neck lock from behind. David stood calmly to the side, grinning with the Winchester cradled in his arms. Several shocked people stood off to the side.

  Cheyenne’s arms were pinned behind her back by a good old boy in a trucker hat and the businessman from earlier was punching her in the gut. A circle of people was allowing it to happen, even a woman, gleefully smiling as the businessman flexed his shoulders.

  He punched Cheyenne.

  I shot him.

  Everyone scattered and hit the deck as they sought their assailant. The businessmen twisted to the ground, screaming and clutching his thigh.

  Maybe Cheyenne is right, maybe I’m not that good of a shot. I had aimed at his head. My stitched arms were making me shake. I blame them.

  Cheyenne curled into a ball and the men holding Julie let her go and she rushed to Cheyenne, cursing the screaming businessman.

  “I will kill every damned one of you if you don’t drop your weapons right now!” I demanded.

  Some idiot fired at my position.

  I shot him.

  That was better. I shot the ground near his face, or shot his face. Whichever. He was screaming and clawing his face, rolling on the ground after dropping his weapon. I ducked behind my cover.

  “Everyone stop shooting!” Randy yelled, struggling against the two men. “You’ll attract the monsters! Stop this!”

  The monsters, in my opinion, were already on the roof.

  “Drop your weapons! All of you! Or I swear to God, I will start randomly killing you!” I had an epiphany, “I’ll start with you, David!”

  “Taylor?” David shouted, “You might want to see this.”

  Oh, I’m not stupid. You’re probably aiming right at my hiding spot wanting me to pop my head out. You can forget that. When I pop my head out it’ll be to blow a hole in that smug face!

  “Taylor? I can just shoot her then we can shoot the others.”

  Aww. Damn it. The Winchester. He was still holding it when he dived to the ground.

  This is so much easier in the movies.

  I leaned out of cover, aiming directly at David lying prone on the ground, the Winchester aimed at Cheyenne. Julie was held in a choke hold, with her mouth covered. Demetri was sitting on the ground with a gun aimed at his head. Randy remained restrained, trying to calm the people around him. Trying to talk sense to David and the rest.

  David grinned at me, “Hello, Taylor. Why don’t you come on out?”

  Cheyenne glanced toward me.

  David was already dead. Either I was going to kill him, or Cheyenne was. It was only a matter of time.

  “Put. The gun. Down.” I warned.

  David smiled, “I don’t think so. Why don’t you? I don’t really want to kill such a fine piece of ass but…” he gave a lazy shrug, “if it happens, it happens. It’s all on you.”

  My barrel stopped shaking. My arms weren’t hurting. My leg was fine. My sights were dead on center. Just below his streaked, blonde dyed hairline and above the scope sight.

  Then a roar echoed from below in the distance.

  “You idiot,” Randy snarled at David. “You attracted a Bruiser.”

  The mob grabbed their weapons and hurried to the concrete-edged railing of the roof. David remained where he was, my hand remained steadily aimed.

  “This way!” one of the men cried, pointing down to the right of us toward the ground.

  “Let me go,” Randy ordered, “Let me go, now. I’ve got to get to the plow.”

  “Go get his gun,” David indicated me and ordered whoever felt like obeying him.

  “We need all the guns we can get,” Randy jerked at his captors.

  Another roar rose.

  “It sees us up here!” the man shouted.

  “Well, stop shouting,” Randy ordered, dripping with frustration.

  Cheyenne rolled over and sat on her knees, the Winchester moved as she did, aimed at her belly.

  Julie bit the hand covering her mouth, “Oh, for God’s sake, quit comparing dick sizes! You’re all massive! You’re all huge! You’re all the most gargantuan, mammoth, largest of all manhoods that have ever existed in the entirety of the universe! There’s a damn monster coming to kill us and no one will ever know how enormous you all are if you don’t stop acting like idiots!”

  She definitely had a way with breaking the tension. We couldn’t help but laugh.

  David slowly lowered the Winchester and ordered Randy’s, Demetri’s and Julie’s release. I lowered my Colt just as several survivors rushed onto the roof from the stairs to say they had sighted several Runners coming our way in addition to the Bruiser.

  Randy ordered people into sniping and lookout positions and ordered the majority to head to the second and bottom floor. At first, they were reluctant until David agreed with Randy’s orders. I ran over to help Cheyenne up.

  She held her stomach and the businessman lying on the ground with my bullet in his leg was rocking back and forth moaning, demanding to be helped. David ordered him and the other man whose face was peppered with concrete, to be taken downstairs.

  “Give me my rifle and my grandpa’s shotgun,” Cheyenne demanded through gritted teeth as I helped her to her feet.

  David smirked, watching her, “You know, you were pretty hot this morning. Now you just look…rode hard. Rode hard and put away wet after a really long, hard, nasty, dirty ride.”

  Cheyenne glared at him. I stepped in front of her, the Colt still in my hand.

  “Where're her weapons?”

  David, clean, except for dirt from lying on the ground, sighed and called a short, pudgy man with thinning hair over, carrying Cheyenne’s grandpa’s shotgun. David took it and handed both guns to me. I kept the Winchester, Julie took both shotguns.

  “Keep your bitch under control. She needs a muzzle.” He said, confident in saying it to our faces while his goons stood beside him, “Why don’t you both make yourselves useful and go be heroes? We’ll talk later.”

  Cheyenne reached for the Winchester but I kept it from her as I put away the Colt, “You’re hurt. Let’s go downstairs and let Janessa look at you.”

  Randy stepped beside David, “This all could have been avoided if you just gave her her gun when she asked.”

  David gave him a contemptible look, “Don’t think we’ve forgotten how you’ve endangered us.” He lowered his voice, “Why don’t you go and do something productive. Get those people down below busy. Put them to work. Pick apples or something. Give away some oranges. Siesta time’s over, compadre.”

  Randy clenched his teeth but didn’t speak.

  “You little-” Julie started to object, but Randy stopped her.

  “Not now. We’ve got to go.” Randy motioned Demetri and the rest of us toward the exit.

  Limping heavily, Cheyenne and I holding each other up, we struggled downstairs. Randy told us to stay behind with Julie and get fixed up; his hand was bleeding again but not as bad. Cheyenne ripped off one of her bandages for him to use to press against it. Demetri offered to go with Randy. Julie ran down the stairs with them, leaving Cheyenne and me alone.

  “Say it,” Cheyenne mumbled.

  We were taking one step slowly at a time, my leg was one long throbbing ache.

  “Say what?”

  “Say what I did was stupid.”

  “What you did was stupid.”

  She chuckled, “You’re supposed to say no, it wasn’t.”

  “Okay. No, it wasn’t.”

  “Now you’re supposed to argue with me.”

  I sighed, “I’m too tired. Let’s just say you won the argument.”

  “No. I let you win.”

  “Fine by me.”

  We came to a landing and she stopped us from going further and made me face her.

  “Are you alright?” She asked.

  I grinned, “Me? Are you? That guy was beating the hell out of you.”

  “Pfft,” she scoffed, rubbing her stomach, “I grew up with two brothers. My youngest brother when he had the flu could hit harder than that guy.”

  She winced slightly rubbing her left side, I ignored mentioning it.

  Her gaze met mine, “Thanks for shooting that guy for me.”

  Her eyes were intoxicating, “He was hurting you. I’ll admit, I was aiming for his head.”

  She grinned, “Told you, you’re a bad shot.”

  “I hope to improve.”

  Her other arm slid around my waist. Leaning the Winchester against the railing, my hands met behind her back.

  Covered in dirt and sweat, grit collected on her face and in her hair. Her cheek wound weeping a clear fluid, dry blood staining her cheek, neck, shoulder, and shirt. Her lips were dry and slightly swollen. Bruises circled both eyes and her left eye was beginning to swell, probably from a punch. I won’t forget that. I could smell her, the stench of Changed blood, and whatever else she had on her.

  God, she’s breathtakingly beautiful.

  Leaning together, our lips met. Our breathing quickened as we connected. Her chest pressed against mine and she went up on her toes. Our lips parted and we explored. Her hands moved to the back of my head and gripped firmly. Her hips pressed against mine until my rear end bumped against the stair railing and she pressed harder. My hands crept up from her waist, sliding beneath her shirt and caressed the groove of her spine. Her skin was soft, muscular, and strong. Her bra was barely in one piece, her shoulder blades moved as she dug through my hair.

  Her left leg lifted and she rubbed the inside of her thigh against the outside of my leg, our kiss became more demanding, faster, urgent. My hands moved down the sides of her body. She made soft whimpering sounds as my hands began traveling upward across her flattened stomach.

  Rob Zombie’s Dragula echoed through the stairwell and the plow engine roared.

  That ceased our passion and we leaned our foreheads against each other, both panting.

  “Monsters,” I said.

  “Yeah, monsters coming.”

  “We need ammo. We need to reload.” I lightly kissed her lips.

  She nodded and helped me continue down the stairs. This time the pain wasn’t as bad, and we felt lighter than we had in two days.

  Chapter 21

  Carl was dead by the time we returned to the makeshift infirmary.

  The businessman and the man with a bleeding face were groaning and complaining.

  Janessa stopped what she was doing to come and check on us, which made the businessman curse Cheyenne and me.

  “Hey!” Janessa whirled, “If you want our help then you don’t talk to us like that!”

  Patty cleaned the bleeding man’s face wounds, digging out pebbles penetrating his face. The businessman’s leg wound was superficial, grazing the back of his thigh, clean in and out but it bled like crazy. Cheyenne refused to help either of them and pulled me to the side to help me. We were subdued and quiet over the death of a man who was just trying to stand up to a bully. The bullies whined and argued near us. Eyes filled with hate focused on both of us.

  Julie had left our weapons with Tex. She retrieved the backpack full of water hoses and ran out as the gates were opened to let Randy exit. Demetri rode with Randy as armed cover, having borrowed another rifle. Sheila went to the roof to scout for the plow.

  Randy’s music blared in the distance. A teenaged girl came running through the hotel sections to tell us to be quiet because the plow’s music was attracting the Runners away from the hotel, and she would let us know when we could relax.

  Cheyenne and I spoke in whispers.

  “You know they’re running low on ammo?” she asked.

  I nodded, “Yeah, I thought they probably were.”

  She helped pull off my pants and went to work on my wounds. We took turns disinfecting each other, resetting bandages and checking stitches. My Colt sat beside me outside its holster.

  “You know, soon, our guns are going to be the only ones anyone can use. David is going to want them.” She looked around as she spoke to make sure no one overheard.

  “Yeah, I thought of that. Even our ammo is running low. We really need to get to that outfitters. We can load up and get back here. Janessa left the Remington in the Jeep but it’s getting low too.”

  She caught my gaze, “Are you sure we should do that now?”

  I frowned, not understanding her question.

  “Have you seen who’s armed? Who’s in charge? And who’s being bossed around? David killed Carl just because he wouldn’t let them pass. No one stopped him, and he’s not being punished for it. That asshole over there,” she dipped her head at the whining businessman, “just beat me up, after shooting at me, for wanting my property returned.”

  “I noticed you didn’t shoot back.”

  She shrugged, “I thought about it, but I hesitated and got jumped because I don’t want to kill people. You and Janessa talked too much sense in me. It’s made me hesitate and think before I fire. It makes me sick killing people. Unchanged people. Like at General Lee’s. I’ve killed enough monsters in the last two days already.” She gripped my hand, “Taylor. David is dangerous. I could see that up there. Those desperate jerks are looking for leadership from the loudest barking dog and not from the sane, compassionate, forward thinking man who’s already leading them. Randy shouldn’t have kept the Dog Boy secret.” I started to interrupt but she stopped me, “I know, he’s been busy, and he hasn’t had time. I realize he’s getting very little help out there from those benefiting from his actions inside here.”

  “I can’t believe no one was willing to help rescue Julie and Demetri.” I winced as she rubbed a cold ointment on my leg around my new wound and it started turning numb.

  “Me either. This is a topical numbing agent; we’ve only got a little, but I sure as hell am not going to give it to that jerk behind me. We’ll both need antibiotics and pain killers. Go easy on them until we can get more.” Patty brought over a stitching kit, and the previously mentioned pain killers as Cheyenne prepared to stitch my leg.

  I chuckled, “You sew too. How’s your cooking?”

  She smiled, “Don’t get macho on me, I like you the way you are.” She poked my leg around the wound, and when I didn’t flinch she began stitching. “Yes, I’m a great cook too. Maybe one day, when this is all calmed down, you’ll find out.”

  Two men came walking by, carrying Carl’s remains toward the entrance. Janessa glanced at his still body, covered her eyes, took a deep breath, and went back to work on the businessman.

  “She’s a trooper,” I whispered.

  Cheyenne nodded, “She’s going to need a break. Most everyone thinks she’s the only one who knows how to do any of this and I’m just assisting. They’re overworking her. She’s taking a lot of cues from me but, wow, her mom taught her a lot of techniques. She’s working her way through things before I can even get a word in edgewise to consult.”

  “Is she overcompensating?”

  Cheyenne smiled, “Aren’t we all? I’m turning into a killer, she’s becoming Florence Nightingale, and you’re numbing yourself to your own pain trying to take care of everyone else.”

  “Well, that and the stuff you spread on me,” I laughed.

  She stopped and regarded me, “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

  Frowning, I shrugged, “What do you mean?”

  She gently took my face in her hands, “Taylor, those things have cut you to ribbons. You’re covered in scratches, cuts, bruises, you’re exhausted, you’ve been fighting those things hand to hand.” Moisture gathered in the edges of her eyes, “Hand to hand, Taylor.” She let my face go and raised my hands and turned them over and back, “What do you see?”

  Yeah, my hands, forearms, and biceps were scratched, the few stitches in my biceps itched the worse. My finger throbbed where I punched that Leaper in its sports cup; it looked swollen but not broken.

  “What do you see, Taylor?” she asked again.

  “I’m scratched up, but not that bad. I’ll live,” I shrugged.

  Her eyes widened, she sniffed and rubbed away a tear, “Taylor, look at my cheek. How bad is my cut?”

  “Well…”

  “Taylor, please?”

  I caressed her cheek, just below the open wound, “It’s…it’ll leave a scar. It’s not as bad as the one on your chest but it will.”

  “But it is bad, right?” She asked.

  Reluctantly, I nodded.

  “I looked in a little mirror Janessa has in the first aid kit, I know how it looks.” She raised my arms again, “Now look at your arms, how bad are yours?”

  I couldn’t understand what she was getting at. My arms were scratched but not as bad as her cheek. Yeah, I had been bleeding, but it wasn’t that bad.

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Her eyes widened again, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a lengthy squeeze. When she pulled away, she fumbled with her hair and let it obscure her eyes.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you cleaned up. A little stitch here, a little superglue there.” She sniffed, “I…” she waved at Patty to come back, “I’ve gotta go find a bathroom.”

  I tried to stop her, “Cheyenne? I don’t get it, what’s wrong?”

 

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