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AaW Chapter 1

zombieman's picture

Part I

 

"It’s not like it’s that big of deal." Roger said wearily.

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal?!" she responded, her voice seething and shrill, "We'll see when I start swelling up like a balloon, when we have diapers to change and college to fucking pay for!"

Sighing Roger protested, "We’re married for Christ's sake! It’s what 'married' people do, right? It isn't my fault the condom slipped off!"

The way he said it betrayed something, in the darkness her eyes widened in shock and she knew it was indeed his fault the condom 'slipped' off. She started to reply, to escalate the fight, but her anger just deflated.

'Fuck', she thought, 'I didn't even finish.' This was, of course, the normal way things were working for her these days. The sex, which had always been mediocre before marriage, had turned into robotic motions, with fewer sessions per month than she had ever dreamed of. Why didn't her husband want her more often? She was open to new ideas, had never turned him away and yet 'the horse had stopped drinking at the trough', so to speak. It had deteriorated so much that a few weeks ago the woman had not fulfilled her birth control prescription, which she had passed on to Roger. The ironic thing was that since she went off of her birth control Roger had shown her more interest than ever.

'Three weeks and we've had sex, (it was never lovemaking anymore) four times! Damn but they were like a couple of wild teenagers!'Sarcasm never helped, it just often felt good. She had been married for four years, she was twenty nine years old and her friends, parents and now even her husband seemed to be on the baby war path. The dirty little non-secret was that she didn't want kids. She never had, her mom had 'pooh-poohed' her opinion away, telling her daughter she would change her mind when she got older.

However nothing had changed and she was pretty sure nothing would. Roger now wanted a kid, a hundred and eighty degree turn around from the day he took his vows, he also made it clear two or three kids would be better.

'Yeah, the condom slipped alright.'Part of her profanity was from the slippage, most was directed at the fact that she was still horny as hell. Why couldn't he finish what he started? She nuzzled closer to him, however a few moments of that let her know there would be no repeat performance, nor even cuddling. 'Where was a pool boy when you need one?' The very thought brought her a fresh wave of arousal.

She moved her hand between her legs, listening for Roger to stir, he was lethargic, drifting towards sleep, yet not quite there, she had been 'caught' before, explaining that had been humiliating. She usually just slept after another one of what she thought of as "Roger's Rapids", especially if his foreplay was of his standard performance variety.

'Let’s see,'she thought, 'first the mandatory French kiss. Then, the one thing that decides if I cum or not; the neck nibble.’ If Roger nibbled, it was a happy night of long sex, maybe even with some oral. A left side nuzzle was a horse of a different feather. Left side meant quick nipple fondling, some fast 'is the hole wet' exploration and almost immediate thrusting followed by equally speedy ejaculation. No, there was no need to get worked up about 'left nuzzle sex'. Again the thought of a pool-boy as a third partner crept into her mind. Just naughty enough to keep her arousal peeked, not too fantastic, not too mundane. Just ri-ight! The woman quickly slid out of bed and headed downstairs to the guest room, casting a quick glance behind her towards her now sleeping husband.

Twenty minutes later she was still glowing with the after affects and turned on the television, a cable news channel came on with the latest news about the riots that seemed to be everywhere the last few days. On both of the coasts, Denver, Austin, who knew where or why, no reporters were on the scene, travel along certain corridors was prohibited, it was a total cluster-fuck, so far as the woman could tell no one had come out and used the 'T' word yet. She was leaning towards a domestic terrorist group herself, another group of nuts, like the Constitutionalists or something. This would be just another group put down by the government; the end result would be fewer rights for the remaining people with higher taxes to pay for it. And so it goes.

The news was leading off with a story on several explosions in Colorado, rumored to be nuclear explosions. Someone had smuggled footage out of the 'Denver nuke', and it was all over the air now. The woman sat up, clutching the thin covers of the bed closer around her. 'Fuck! This is the world my family wants me to bring a kid into?'

The woman resolved to head to the pharmacy when she got up the next day. The rest of her night was spent watching the news. In the morning her husband poked his head into the room then came in and shut off the television without really looking at it. Before leaving he rumpled her hair and kissed her brow goodbye.

An hour and a half after Roger left a curfew was issued and citizens were ordered to stay in their homes. Twenty minutes after the curfew was issued a man approached the woman's front door. The man was about six feet tall had a bulging belly and wore a gray suit with black leather shoes. His knees and pant legs were muddy and there was a black stain along his right arm. His once designer haircut was mussed, leaving his gray-black hair a tangled birds nest. He was slow, shuffled instead of walked and he did not knock at the woman's door, but he did try to turn the door knob.

The front door had not been used in months, not since Roger's parents had come over for dinner. The woman preferred to go out, not stay at home. The door was locked. The man at the front door tried to force it in, his attempt was lacking and he soon gave up and moved to the next house. The noise he had made stirred the woman in her sleep and she awoke minutes later.

She yawned sleepily and scratched her ribs as she struggled into consciousness. Getting up was a chore, especially after staying up to watch the news so late. She hopped out of bed and viewed herself in the bedroom's full length mirror.

'Not bad.'she thought, viewing herself with a critical eye. At five foot six she weighed hundred and thirty five pounds, not as fat, yet, as most of her friends and not a skinny bean pole without any meat either. Her brown hair accented her skin tone, she was sure there must have been an Hispanic or Italian somewhere in her past probably on her dads side. The woman's old grandma always hinted about her first husband, making him out to be some sort of family skeleton in the closet. She had seen pictures of her grandfather in his military uniform, he looked like a normal guy to her, unfortunately he had been killed in some war overseas long before she was born.

Her old grandma had a wild past, that is one thing everyone agreed on, she still went against the grain living on her own, a few hundred miles away, at an age when most people in their eighties considered retirement homes a welcome respite. The woman continued her nude assessment, legs; good. Arms; excellent. Buttocks; rather nice. Hips, good, breasts, never enough, but the men she had been with had not complained. Lower stomach, well, that is where the extra few pounds had settled.

‘More gym time. Today, after.....what?’She remembered, ‘The pharmacy, the 'morning after' pill!’

 Now, it actually was ‘the morning after’. ‘Now it is time to keep any babies from coming into this world of terrorists who set off bombs in Denver.’ The woman headed upstairs to her bedroom, pulled on a fluffy pink robe and called her Doctor.

"Dr. Bayer's office. How may I help you?" asked the receptionist on the other end of the line.

"Hi, this is Dora Sturges, I am one of Doctor Edmundson's patients. Could I speak to him please?" said Roger's wife.

"What is this about Ma'am?"

"I need him to call in a prescription for the morning after pill to my local pharmacy ."

"Oh. Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. Is there a reason why?

‘Stupid bitch, none of your goddamned business!’ Dora thought, but she found herself saying, “My husband and I had a little, uh…break with our normal form of birth control last night.”

“Okay, Dora. Give me a minute please.” Dora found herself on hold for a couple of minutes before the nurse came back on and said, “Dora, are you still using the Medi-cap on Fourth Street?"

"Yes, that would be fine." only after she answered did the woman realize what the receptionist had really been asking was, 'Do you want me to have the prescription sent somewhere they do not know you?'

“Doctor Edmundson will call in the prescription now; it should be waiting for you at the pharmacy when you get there. He would like to see you and discuss an alternative form of birth control if you think this might be an ongoing problem.”

“What? Oh, no…well, maybe. I will think about my options and set something up later.” Dora said, though she had no such intentions.

Saying her goodbye, Dora moved downstairs and into the kitchen to start the coffee. She made a point of not turning on the news; she'd had enough of that miserable stuff last night. Puttering about she started some toast and took out a couple of brown organic eggs, which, according to the package, had been laid by happy free-range chickens.

"I wonder how happy they are to have their eggs stolen?" she said aloud.

The silence was getting to her, as it usually did, buckling in on her determination not to watch television she was reaching for the remote and ended up dropping an egg onto the tile floor.

“Dammit!” She set the remote down and cleaned up one of the happy chicken’s eggs before turning back to her breakfast. Any thoughts of turning on the television were erased in her haste to finish preparing her eggs, coffee and toast. After she cleaned up, she got dressed, grabbed her purse and headed into the garage, where her burnt orange Mazda 7 awaited.

Sliding behind the seat she hit the garage door button, then turned the car over and started to back out of her driveway. When she hit the street she clicked the door shut and was momentarily startled by a loud buzzing siren. The tornado alarms were going off. The woman looked around suspiciously; nope, not a cloud in the sky. Dora figured they must be testing the system. Shrugging she headed for the pharmacy a few miles away, singing along to Lady Gaga's latest; that singer only got better as she got older, in Dora’s opinion. As she drove out of her gated community, she did not notice the gray suited man crouched in the doorway of the first house inside the community’s borders. The man, now walking with nary a shuffle in his step, watched the woman drive away with a hungry look in his eyes.

The first indication the woman had that something was seriously wrong was when she approached a traffic signal, it was blinking red in all directions and there was no traffic from any other direction, which was very unusual for this intersection at this time of day. Shrugging the woman drove on through to the next intersection, thinking it was going to be a long drive if she had to stop at every corner.

She managed to get up to forty five miles per hour when she saw the police officer pull out behind her. As she saw his lights turn on she was distracted by what was going on in behind of her and she did not see the lady in rumpled clothing rushing off the slight incline with a tire rim. The woman did not see the rim thrown into the air and did not see it smash into her windshield. Turning her gaze back to the front of the car once she heard the impact Dora could not see out of her window. The windshield was bowed inwards, and she immediately swerved sideways and hit the steep curb at forty miles per hour. She didn’t see the fence she blew through at thirty three and finally she also did not see the one hundred and twenty one year old oak tree that her car smashed into at twenty seven miles an hour, though she did hear it.

The air bag deployed, her life was saved, yet she still impacted with enough force to convince the police officers following her that she was beyond saving. The police car stopped, a male and a female officer sprang out of the side doors, drew their firearms and shot the bag lady four times, the male officer approached the bag lady's still twitching form and fired once into her head. Both officers, looking grim, started to approach the crashed Mazda. Before they got there, their radios went wild with calls, demanding them to come quickly, there were officers down. They simultaneously headed back to their patrol car, hardly casting a guilty glance towards the Mazda as they did so.

6 comments

Zedbandage's picture

by Zedbandage on Tue, 10/11/2011 - 19:10

Perhaps you should put "Part 1" at the head of the chapter, because eventually chapter 26 comes and has "Part 2" up there.

They're coming to eat me alive, oh SHIT!

zombieman's picture

by zombieman on Tue, 10/11/2011 - 22:49

That makes sense, hmm should probably do that in the 'book' thingy too.

by blazinerday on Tue, 01/17/2012 - 04:11

im getting hooked on this new story but if it starts during the zombie apocalypse shouldnt it go between zc1 and zc2? i didnt want to start reading it till i was done with zc3. i feel it helps create a timeline and a unique atmosphere if they are all read in chronological order. and by the way how bout a new story bout a historian or storyteller who survived the zombie wars,and is telling tzcu to a new generation of hunters. someone who stood back in his bunker watching it all unfold.

zombieman's picture

by zombieman on Wed, 01/18/2012 - 19:20

Just another perspective of someone surviving Z-day, it doesn't fit in with the TZC series, a timeline though, that's been brought up before I used to have one on the old site, so I'd better whip one out here too.

 

by Richard Morgan ... on Sat, 12/21/2013 - 12:02

Found in paragraph 10- 11 from top. Staring with "20 minutes later" it read no reporters we on the scene.... Not sure you want this feedback but I want to also say that I really have enjoyed your books/stories that have been read so for. As a disabled veteran I belong to Baen publishing co free ebooks. They have been a great help to me. I am able to forget about my problems and issues as I get lost into the story line of the current book I am reading. I want to thank you for making your hard work available here at ctales.com . Have enjoyed all that I have read. Oh the tacadii is word from east Somali. I just have not found the translation of it yet. Anyway if u would like me to comment to u about items like this please let me know.  Richard Morgan

zombieman's picture

by zombieman on Sat, 12/21/2013 - 21:47

Every little bit helps! I've fixed the 'we' -- changed it to were.Mark

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