The Dead World Ch. 02

She half expected Skully to leap once again at the opportunity to put her in her place and contradict her proclamation that she was living here alone, but as she came to yield to Oz's reprimands, she knew she'd robbed him of it. Oz nodded his head gently in understanding, and moved on.

"Right. Well, show us to the kitchen then..."

The ever so uncomfortable tour trekked on in near silence, back down and through the halls and lobby to the restaurant and bar space, back into the industrial hotel kitchen. Once satisfied with observing that space, they finally headed into the greenhouse. The hens followed them in, and the herd of goats scattered when met with newcomers. It always seemed like another world inside. Some part of her didn't want to show them in, to let them enjoy the paradise that was her own. She tended it and knew what vegetables to which season well by now... she had put a lot of work into it.

"This is impressive... you maintain it well by yourself. The hotel is very spacious... so with our host's permission we would be honored to be your guests tonight." Oz started slowly.

"That's fine." The words came out as if Charlie's responses were on auto-pilot at this point. Whatever they wanted, whatever they needed—so long as it got her closer to her departure. She even forced a brief, quick smile, and thrust her right hand forward toward Oz as they came to stand before the apple tree.

"My name's Charlie."

Oz didn't hesitate. It had been ages since someone offered a handshake... he felt a twinge of hope inside, at this young man with his head downcast so sheepishly who offered his hand. He grasped slender fingers with his own and squeezed firmly. "It's good to meet you, Charlie. I'm Oscar Callaghan... my group refer to me Oz, though--or Boss. Title sort of grew on me. The tough guy here is my brother, Colton. They call him Skully. We've been through a lot together."

The sudden flood of personal details took her off guard, causing her eyes to rise hopefully, to study Oz with a newfound curiosity. She dared not glance at Skully, the mocking bloody skeletal jaw imprinted upon it now casting an eerie essence to his fierce gaze, piercing into her like daggers of ice.

"I know we appear slightly intimidating... but we aren't bad people, it's mostly just for show. We're survivors, like you... we don't hurt people, if we can help them. If you're with us Charlie we'll look after you. We work as a team—we have each other's backs, always. You don't have to be by yourself. There are still some decent people left."

Her eyes trained on the ground, Oz's voice slowly slipping away from her... almost as if it were in a tunnel. After a moment she nodded her head slowly, and snapped from her momentary daze, and muttered a soft phrase. "...Thanks."

"Dog can take you back up, if you would like some space... maybe some time to think it over? This place isn't bad, but... well, the day might come along when somebody's down there at the gate, and they aren't too smart or shy. They aren't going to want to talk. They'll wanna just walk right in here, and put a bullet in your head."

Oz reached to pluck an apple from the tree gingerly, taking a bite as he finished his statement, and turned away to walk off after Skully who had moved on to examine the rest of the greenhouse. It was well taken care of... amazingly so. Someone had quite the green thumb. He didn't look back toward the odd boy who had seemingly fallen into their group from out of nowhere, but he knew the lad must have known a thing or two about tending it... or he wasn't being entirely truthful about who all was here.

Dog nudged her shoulder sharply with his fist before nodding his head toward the door. She shot a venomous glare up at him, her eyes narrowed.

"What is it with you?! Why are you so fucking quiet, and... fucking.. bossy?!"

Dog's nose wrinkled as his dark eyebrows knitted together, glaring right back down to the smaller 'young man', and drawing his hand up to slide it across his neck impatiently. She shook her head slowly as if to say she didn't quite understand, and watched as he angrily motioned to his throat, and then threw his thin fingered hand forward as if he were attempting to speak only to have the words snuffed out.

"... you.. can't talk? Wait, are you deaf?"

The young man rolled his eyes with much exaggeration before stalking off back toward the southern tower as the woman tried to piece it together. Charlotte followed after a moment, frowning in slight embarrassment that she hadn't realized sooner—she had to half run to keep up to the rapid pace of the tall, lanky young man they kept calling Dog. He didn't hold the elevator... he might not have even known to—so she ran half the way to just make it.

"I'm sorry." She was slightly winded as the elevator door closed, pressing the button for the fourth floor. She turned away and reached for her card key tucked securely beneath her jacket and shirt, only to find that it wasn't there! She twisted ever so slightly to look back upon the floor, checking the pockets of her jeans for it, and scowled deeply to find it wasn't there either. As she glanced over toward Dog, she found him holding it between his pointer and middle finger of his left hand, offering it to her with a once again cool expression.

"...Thanks..." Charlie said slowly, moving just as slowly to take it. He drew it away from her teasingly, chortled silently at her aggravation, and placed it into her hand at long last. The elevator doors opened and she began to exit, only to find herself stopped halfway out as Dog grasped her arm quickly. She looked back to find him turning her hand so her palm was face up, and he dropped into it a glistening ring on a long black cord.

Her entire body felt as if it had suddenly been plunged into a frigid tub filled with ice and blindingly cold water. Her golden face flushed pale, and her mouth had become incredibly dry.

The smile on Dog's lips was almost nauseatingly pleasant. Her mouth was ever so slightly agape. He closed her fingers around the ring in her palm, and pushed her hand away just as the elevator doors closed. The last she saw of the twenty something's hazel eyes was a playful wink as he was sealed from sight, and the elevator began its slow descent to ground floor. There she stood for the longest time, all but petrified, clutching her wedding ring in a trembling hand.

How, in hell's unholy name, had that sneaky son of a bitch even manage to get a hold of it?!

Had she been so foolish as to secure it too loosely and it slipped out? No... no, that was impossible, the knot was still tied—hadn't her key card to her room been tucked securely into her bra?! She tried to remember a time when he could have had hands on her long enough to remove the personal effects without her so much as noticing, and recalled the rough little tumble and bump they had as Dog entered her suite where they had both nearly fallen over.

He had stopped her from toppling over, both hands on the front of Matt's leather coat... she was in such a rush to get out of there and pray they found no straggling clues of a female inhabitant that she didn't notice the fucker pick-pocketing her when coming into the room!

Just calm down... He doesn't seem too bright—they call him Dog, for Christ's sake. It's just a ring... not like he found my panty drawer. She tried to talk calm into herself, and quickly moved to her room, going inside and closing the door firmly behind her. She moved the deadbolt into place, certain the heavy solid doors would take some serious determination to infiltrate, and turned her back to it and leaned against it heavily. For the first time in a very, very long time... Charlotte actually felt trapped in this room.

The shower was perhaps the most beautiful thing about the suite.

She spent half the day staring at the door and disposing of any remaining feminine items she had—she made certain to tuck those for hygiene into the suite safe. She knew the combination, and doubted there would be a safe-cracker among the group. A talented pickpocket, perhaps, but nothing was going to be able to break into that giant thing.

The gently flowing water should have soothed her and calmed her frayed nerves. She let it rinse away the grime and grit accumulated in the last few days. Her hair had been taken down and left to fall freely, a silky cascade brushing at the top of her round buttocks. She turned around, gently, and glanced across the spacious bathroom floor toward the jacuzzi tub and the large window looking out over the ocean. The clouds lingered.

At least they didn't have to worry about snow this far south. They might get some spectacular rain storms, but nothing serious. It was still an amazing view, even after so many years.

Even in the comfort of the luxurious bathroom Charlie was tense--on edge and nervous. Their leader had said they would only be here for the night. She was certain they were likely to be a little more friendly, after enjoying a shower for themselves and realizing that no army of madmen would be storming the resort, or come along to slit their throats while they slept. She tried not to pay mind to the stitches on the left side of her head or the slight irritation that came as the water ran over the slowly healing wound.

Her slim digits slowly inched their way down from where they rested at the back of her neck, trying to rub some of the tension out of her shoulders. Her attempts were rather in vain. She reached for the bar of unscented soap and guided it down slick arms, and over her chest. Charlie was gifted with feminine definition, by any standards. The gentle slope of those beautiful caramel colored globes suggested she had known a larger bust since puberty played its part in her life.

Soft brown nipples grew firm beneath the gentle brush of her fingertips, transforming into tender little nubs as her hands continued their journey, down over her rib cage and soft abdomen to the profound curve of her hips. She did well hiding herself under baggy clothing, but for better measure she had pondered wrapping her chest to further mask her true gender. It might now even be a necessity.

The people of the world were a tribe of scum well before they started dying and coming back to life to eat the living that remained. They had a man among them who could get his hands inside of her clothes with her barely ever realizing it had happened, and certainly not seeing him do so. There was no such thing as being too careful.

Charlie was small of stature, built petite. Her fingertips teased down the curve of her hips and slowly gilded inward and traced the imperfect scar along her lower abdomen before moving on down to the dark, soft, curly patch decorating her feminine mound. She lathered there gently, and let her hands guide the bar in quick circles against her plush inner thighs, working their way to the outside. Her ass and thighs were perhaps the plumpest part of her body now, yet beneath the soft layer of fat though was tone and definition. Her legs were strong and shapely almost as if they had been masterfully illustrated. or carved from stone. She massaged the soap into every inch quickly before pausing to take a breath and listen.

Old habits died hard. One couldn't help but be a little paranoid these days.

She shifted her weight from one dainty foot to the other, running the soap along them as well before stepping back into the steaming water and rinsing herself off thoroughly. She traced the soap a final time, focusing this time on her underarms, which were smooth, as were her legs. She knew there was no longer a social need to shave, but she enjoyed the normality of it in some ways... grooming and routine helped her stay sane as sad as that seemed, so she did it quickly every other morning.

The water shut off. She tried not to spend more than ten to fifteen minutes in the shower if it could be avoided to conserve not only water, but fuel as well. With guests now, she shortened it to just above six minutes. Hot water burned diesel.

Nimble digits guided the large fluffy white towel to her face, and then to her hair, drying it and gazing nervously at the pair of scissors she had located in her room. They were long and designed for fabric, not much for cutting hair... but she knew she may be safer with shorter hair. She happily let it grow over the years that had passed. Matthew adored it, and always discouraged her from cutting it.

Now, though, the world seemed far less friendly a place for women, not that she recalled it being overly woman-friendly to begin with—she was still mildly surprised that she had managed to pull off being seen as a young teenage boy for so long. Not being able to see that long, spiral curled mane did her a massive favor, along with keeping her voice quiet and only saying what needed to be said. Her naturally mellow, alto vocals in a whisper purposely made to sound as believably boyish as she could get it was probably her saving grace. That, and a little bit of dirt on her cheeks to take away from her full plush lips and heart-shaped face.

She took the scissors gingerly and sighed, gazing at her hair for a long moment in the mirror before finally tossing them off toward the trash can with a frustrated groan. Charlie quickly began to braid her hair. They didn't seem like a group of run-of-the-mill maniacs... if they were truly good people and she went with them, to Raleigh, to a civilization with survivors there were bound to be other women there... she could keep her secret for another week, or two, couldn't she?

As Charlie exited her bathroom and stepped into the dim-lit suite, her eyes moved nervously to the door—to the deadbolt she had locked as extra measure should someone mean to come intruding, or sneaking. She desperately wished she could stay in here and wait for the group to rob her of her supplies and move along but she knew they were unlikely to leave her behind, thinking her no more than a boy with no one else to watch after her. They were unlikely to leave her alone until they were sure she was alone, period.

It was a conundrum of epic proportions, with only the thought of getting her personal effects from the getaway car as her second most distraction. They had all come together, so she would have to leave to keep an ample eye out and watch for them to retrieve their vehicles. Thankfully she'd taken her entire wardrobe downstairs and abandoned it in the dark of the garage when faced with needing space in the vehicle, someplace no one would ever bother looking. She had left all of Matt's clothes, which she just as well decided would be her new wardrobe going forward. They would likely park the cars out front and she would have to be quick to retrieve her bag—especially her handful of pictures she had of her husband and herself.

He had always hated cameras. It was nearly impossible to get him to pose with her or even smile, so as stupid as it was, it was her only piece of the past worth holding onto. The only thing worth saving when abandoning this place. She was half tempted to leave the weapons even, aside from the handguns and the hunting knives. Firing the guns wasn't an easy feat, and she wasn't the best shot by far, especially with high powered rifles.

She moved to the balcony, pushing the glass door open to let the sound of the ocean crashing on the rocky shore fill the suite and distract her from the buzz of her own troubled thoughts. Still ever so slightly damp, she moved to rummage through Matt's drawers again and climbed into one of his shirts, sliding a pair of his loose pajama pants on and moving to crawl beneath the fluffy cream colored comforter of the king size bed.

Charlotte was now warm, and snug. She tucked the spare pillows around herself to feel as if she were not here alone, and curled into a ball looking out at the open balcony door over the ocean. The sun was setting behind the building casting a golden glow out over the ocean. It could almost be paradise if the world hadn't ended. She closed her eyes, wanting to forget the things that had transpired for a little while, and perhaps have one of those precious, beautiful nightmares... the sort where Matt had finally come home only to turn to smoke in her arms.

Getting the door open was out of the question... it wasn't a regular door, it operated on sensors by a cardkey. Technically, he could get it open with his knife, but it would be noisy and draw attention. Still... there was always more than one way into a room.

It took him a little while but he succeeded after an hour and a half, soundlessly infiltrating the suite their host had claimed as his own. Danny stood motionless, his arms lazily at his sides. He was but feet from her bed, and listened for a long few moments the soft swell and drop of her breath. Flickers of anxiety caused his fingers to curl into gentle fists and relax again, daring not step closer... not quite yet.

She certainly did a good job, making it look like she had only just become a man, but he knew well enough to know when he'd stolen from her the reality of things. Now, he hardly saw the 'boy' he had been bonding with more as a younger brother from earlier, but the soft features of a creature of the fairer gender. Her long eyelashes and full, ever so soft looking lips, snugly bundled in a fluffy comforter. She looked different without the oversized beanie and goggles on... he realized quickly that he could see her dark hair now.

He moved closer, several careful and soundless steps, and leaned closely. The soft glow of a pillar candle she'd left lit on her nightstand reflected shadows across the ceiling. It was difficult not to marvel at how delicate she looked, and soft, even with the troubled expression of a difficult reality invading her thoughts at the time. He had seen only a handful of women since and had certainly never had the opportunity to study one this closely before.

Danny slid out of his leather jacket and placed it gently at the foot of the bed as he circled around to the opposite side of her. The ocean shifted, deafening any possible sound he may have made, the moon shining bright down onto the metal balcony. The wind picked up and the black-out drapes shuddered in the breeze.

He carefully nudged his feet from worn, black leather boots, one at a time, and with eerie delicacy slipped beneath the blankets in a single slow and fluid motion. He eased the barricade of fluffy pillows away and came close to her, drawing her into his arms in an all but ghostly embrace. Ever so light. He listened to her breath as it stuttered, and for a moment, paused... and finally returned to a gentle rise and fall of deep sleep.

It was hard to explain how amazing the woman felt, almost fragile really. He instantly felt as if she began to relax and accept the warmth around her, the presence of the tall, agile young man somehow comforting in her rest. He could see nothing but soft, dark hair, the deep sleeping woman oblivious to him yet... honestly, Danny hadn't thought for a second what he would do if she were to wake up. Something in him was inspired to comfort her, for the sorrow on her soft features as she slept all but angered him.

Now, well, he didn't want to let her go, that was for certain.

He tightened his embrace, and gently curled his body to her's, unable to help his fingertips toying with the bottom of her shirt. How soft must she be beneath the cloth, if she felt so amazing in his arms as she was now? He could hardly contain his excitement as he let thin digits slide beneath, knowing well enough how to tease along that deliciously plush skin without ever alerting her.

The clouds lingering earlier began to stir, and in the sky, a gentle rumble. He felt her breath become shallow and tense, and for a moment he stilled his fingers from gently stroking along her soft belly, another soft growl of thunder above blending with the whisper of the sea. Anxiously, he waited for her to settle before letting his hand smooth its way upward, his fingertips kissing her skin and igniting in him a burning impulse and hunger to know more of this delicate being.