Voodoo Girl Pt. 01

Libby stood up and scanned the men desperately. "What happened?"

"Wasn't MacKenzie," Doug grunted. "At least that's what he claims."

Ariel's mouth dropped. "You saw him? How do you know it wasn't him?"

"We got the guy who did it. He was... proud of himself. Thought it was funny. He wanted this all to himself." He wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt. "We kicked the shit outta him. Dragged his ass to Mac. Mac said he didn't know him, the guy said he didn't know him. So we shot him in the head and threatened Mac."

"I don't believe him," Libby hissed. "I don't believe that lying shit one motherfucking bit."

"We don't have proof," Zach said. "We have to let it go for now."

"Oh, until he lets even more of those shits in here?"

"Shut the fuck up, Libby," Ariel spat. "What else can we do? Doesn't he have more people with him, too?"

"Even more, now. But there's no point in worrying about it this second," Zach said. He kissed her cheek and she calmed down a little, but his eyes were on me. I wanted to retch. He put his hand around her waist and looked at all of us. "We're going to bed. I suggest you all get some sleep."

They went upstairs. Nate stood and only then did his eyes seem to come to life. "I'm going to bed. If you need me..."

He trudged upstairs. I wanted to follow, to beg for his forgiveness. My eyes were filled with unshed tears, so full I could hardly see.

Libby disappeared into the kitchen and came out with a wet washcloth. Then she tinkered with a cabinet and pulled out a full bottle of whiskey. She grabbed two shot glasses. I assumed she wanted a drink with Doug.

Instead she grabbed my hand and hauled me out of my seat. "Let's get a drink."

I tried to speak but my throat was swollen from crying. She wouldn't have stopped, regardless. She yanked me to the back porch. There was a swing on it and she pushed me down. I swung back so hard that I slapped against the house and cursed.

She plopped next to me and filled the glasses. The washcloth in her hand was used to clean my face of its salty tears.

"We live in a world with death. We always did. I thought you knew that?" She handed me a glass. I took it because I was desperate for anything that wouldn't make me feel.

"Wendy was a smart lady," she said before downing her glass.

I swallowed my own, sputtering as the alcohol burned down my throat. I'd never been a fan of the heavy stuff.

Libby ripped the glass out of my hand, filled it and then shoved it back into my palm. I tried to hand it back to her but she wouldn't take it. "We're getting drunk together. Right now. Drink."

What the hell. The both of us had a few more shots apiece. She handed me the washcloth and I tried to get as much of the blood off me as I could.

"No one blames you," she said after a bit.

I was staring at the way the night wind blew across the overgrown grass, but my neck snapped towards her at her words.

"I shot his mother in the head as he watched."

"He couldn't do it. He wouldn't have been able to do it himself. You did him a favor." She poured me some more whiskey. "Stop making this about you. Wendy died. We're all hurting."

"This is why I didn't want to stay here," I confessed.

Libby waited for me to continue.

"This hurts. I hate it. I feel like... like I've lost my mother all over again."

"Would wandering alone through the wilderness be any better, Fiona?"

My eyes shut. "No."

I nearly dropped my whiskey when Libby laced her fingers through mine. "For my part, I'm glad you're here. I don't think I could have done what you did, either. You're strong, whether you believe it or not."

"How are we going to make it without Wendy?"

Libby inhaled deeply and tilted her head back to take another big shot. When she looked at me, I saw her eyes were glazed over. I wanted that drunkenness and extended my glass out.

She watched me shove three more shots down my throat and snorted. "You're going to be so hung-over tomorrow."

"I don't care. You didn't answer my question."

Her smile faded. "What do you want me to say, Fiona? We'll survive without her because we have to, just like we survived after we lost everyone else. We're survivors, obviously, or we wouldn't be here now."

I licked my lips but I couldn't feel it. I shook my head and it was so heavy, and the movement was so slow. I felt like I was underwater. I heard Libby snort again.

"I want to get fucked," I heard myself saying.

I wasn't sober enough to be embarrassed.

Libby burst out laughing.

"I mean it." My blurry eyes searched for hers. "I've never been fucked."

She let out a surprised laugh. "What? You're a virgin?"

"No, no." I shook my head and marveled at how fast the backyard was spinning. "No. I've had sex. But I've never been fucked."

"You still have time," Libby grinned. Her grin softened and she poured me another shot. "Last one, lightweight."

"What if it's me tomorrow? What if someone is shooting me in the brain to put me out of my misery? To make sure I don't come back?" I touched my chest as if that alone could quell the swell of fear I felt at the thought.

Libby shrugged and rested back on her hands. "What if?"

"That's terrifying."

"It's no way to live, so stop worrying about it. And you wouldn't know it happened, anyway. What difference does it make?"

"I've never been fucked. I never went to France. My grandmother and I got into a huge fight and I didn't make up with her. I hadn't called my dad in months."

Libby offered a rueful smile. "It's funny how people can only appreciate this stuff when death is staring them in the face. Look, if you were given another year you probably wouldn't do most of the stuff you want to do anyway. And it doesn't matter now. Worry about making it through tomorrow."

Fatigue hit me and I rested against her arm. "How are we going to make it without Wendy?" I repeated in a whisper.

"Day by day," Libby whispered back, and poured us one last shot.

______________

I woke up sometime in the night. I was confused and still drunk, and heartsick over Wendy. Tears had dried in streaks across my cheeks.

I crept barefoot over to Wendy's door and hesitated. I wanted to lie in her bed and be comforted by the smell still on her sheets, but I wondered if that might be worse for me. In the short time I knew her, she'd become like a mother to me. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. I stumbled in and fell on the bed diagonally.

"Shit!" someone hissed.

Someone turned on the lamp and I lifted my hand to cover my burning eyes.

"Fiona? What the hell are you doing in here?"

Nate. It was Nate.

I smacked my lips and slid up beside him. He released a long sigh and dropped his head back, closing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

His neck turned and his eyes opened.

"I hated how that happened. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Someone had to do it. I should be thanking you."

Tentatively I reached out a hand and stroked his jaw. "How are you?"

Nate wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pushed it back towards me. "I don't know. Have you been drinking?"

"A little tiny bit. Really just a sip. A half of a sip."

He rotated so that his body faced mine. "Is that why you're in my bed?"

"It isn't your bed."

He didn't answer and I wanted to kick myself for bringing it up.

"I wish I could offer you some comfort."

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "You can't."

"Yes, I can. There must be something I could—"

Before I could come up with a good way, Nate's lips were on mine, working against them. He sucked my lower lip into the space between his own lips. Immediately, I burst into thousands of flames. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I wanted more. I wound my fingers through his hair and pulled. He groaned into my mouth and pressed his tongue against my lip. I opened my mouth and his tongue immediately slid in, pushing against mine.

I sighed into the kiss and heaved my breasts into his chest. His hands settled on my waist as his lips traveled down my throat. At the slip of skin between my neck and chest, he sucked and kissed until I was moaning his name. When he was satisfied, he pulled back and blew air over the wetness on my skin.

I gasped and my hands tightened in his hair. His hands slipped under my shirt and rubbed circles against my stomach. I wanted his touch everywhere, and I needed his mouth on mine. As if he read my mind, he gave me a passionate kiss that literally took my breath away. My body was thrumming with alcohol and pure pleasure.

I lifted my hips and touched his hard cock. He moaned and bore down on me, shoving his cock into my clothed pussy. I squeezed him between my thighs and writhed beneath him, grinding against him. He buried his head into my hair and whispered things I couldn't hear.

And then he tore himself away and rested on his back beside me, covering his eyes with his arm.

I waited for him to speak but he said nothing.

I touched his arm and he flinched. "Don't touch me."

"What's wrong? Did I do something or—"

"No. I'm not angry. Just don't touch me right now. I can't take it. If I fuck you right now, it'll be because I'm using you to get over my grief."

My pussy desperately clenched. "I don't mind."

He peeked at me under his arm. "Well, I do, and so would you if you weren't plastered."

He was right. This wasn't the time. I was ashamed with myself and told him so. He just waved it off. I stopped moving and was afraid I was about to fall asleep. I rested my eyes and took his hand. He flinched again, but didn't pull his hand from me.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know her that well, but I loved her."

"I know you did."

"She loved you so much, too. She told me all the time how good you were."

He put an arm around my back and positioned me so we could spoon. "Thank you."

"Who let them in, Nate?"

His fingers skimmed down my arm, over my elbow and stopped at my hand. "I don't know."

We were silent and I could have sworn he fell asleep. Then he started speaking.

"I keep remembering this stupid memory I have of this dinner Mom prepared. Must've been a month before the outbreak."

"A dinner?" I asked in a whisper.

He distractedly rubbed my wrist. "She loved throwing big dinners. We hated them."

"Did you have a nice time?"

He snorted. "Sort of. It was just nice to get us all together. And Mom was so happy. She was beaming. And I remember thinking if something as simple as getting us together for dinner could make her so happy, I'd never give her a hard time about it again. She just loved that, us all sitting at a table together, talking over one another, fighting over the remote."

I covered his arms that were clasped around my waist with my own. "That's a nice memory. I'm sure it was for her, too."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to bed."

"Let's go to bed" sent an inappropriate shiver through my body. I was simultaneously turned on and ashamed of myself. He was right; we couldn't do this now. Wendy's death was fresh, and I was drunk and Nate was broken. And we had someone in our midst who let those zombies in. Without a doubt, I knew it in my soul.

I got up but he tugged me back down. "Stay with me."

I stared into his eyes. "I want to take a walk around the house. I'm restless."

"Don't go outside."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"Okay." Then I kissed his cheek. "Anything. Anything I can do for you, I will."

I went downstairs and disobeyed him, but just barely. I took a few steps out back and put the cigarette I stole from him between my lips. The flame ignited the cigarette and the familiar burning smoke filled my throat.

I flicked some ash away and looked up at the sky for the millionth time, looking for answers I'd never received.

As I smoked my cigarette, I gazed at the stars and wondered if Wendy was a part of them now. I was almost jealous of her, and I was furious with myself for that fleeting thought. But she was somewhere peaceful now. Maybe not Heaven. Maybe not anywhere. But at least she wasn't here. She wouldn't have to wake up and go to sleep afraid. The horrific suspense of when, not if, she'd die was over. She was away from the monsters—both human and inhuman.

I heard the wood floor creak behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Nate standing there, tears on his cheeks. I'd never seen him like this. He needed me, my arms around him, my lips on his. I'd done enough time in my head, philosophizing and blaming and complaining. He needed me, more than ever in this moment.

I put out the cigarette and walked back into the house, letting the screen door slam behind me. I wrapped my arms around his warm, hard body.

"I'm here," I promised.