For a brief moment, she thought about slamming the door, but worried about how he’d react to that in the coming days and weeks, let alone that night. Jennifer closed her eyes in resignation and stepped onto the front step.
“Thanks, Jennifer,” Doug said, sounding sincere.
Jennifer opened her arms, and Doug stepped towards her. “Remember, this is just a hug,” she reminded him. “Stop when I tell you to.”
Doug nodded and bent down, put his arms under hers, and squeezed her tight, lifting her up onto her toes and pulling her towards him. Jennifer’s arms draped limply over his shoulders, and she gave him a light squeeze in response.
In the cool night air, his warm breath down the back of her neck made her shudder, and the smell of alcohol on his breath, mixed with the days-old stench of body odor and sweaty clothes, nearly made her gag.
“Okay, Doug, that’s it,” she said after what seemed like minutes but was likely only a few seconds. Between his smells and her nerves, she struggled to maintain her composure. “I’m tired. I want to go in.”
He continued to hold her, choosing not to hear.
“Doug!” Jennifer said, her voice rising. “Doug, I’m done! I need to go in.”
He didn’t respond, just continued to embrace her. Jennifer put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him away.
“Doug! That’s it! Let me go!”
There was still no reply. She felt his hips pressing against her stomach and could tell he was aroused. Doug turned and nuzzled her neck with his whiskery cheeks, then pressed his cold, fleshy lips against her skin. Jennifer pushed as hard as she could against his shoulders, trying to break free.
“Doug!” she shouted in desperation. “Stop it. Now!”
“Please, Jennifer,” Doug whispered. “Don’t make me stop. You don’t know how good this feels.” He pushed her backwards against the house, pinning her there with his body. His hands slid down from her back and began to massage the back of her thighs. Jennifer struggled against him but could barely breathe, she was pressed so tightly against the house. She struck Doug on his back with her fist, but it had no affect. Struggling, she fought to hold back the tears while he continued to trap her between the house and his body, massaging her with one hand and pinning her arm with the other.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, continuing to kiss her neck, then moving his lips roughly to her ear.
Jennifer stopped struggling and forced herself to calm down and breathe while she pushed against his shoulder with her free hand. She regained her composure while Doug continued to stroke her and kiss her neck passionately. When he didn’t feel any more resistance, Doug loosened his hold on her, and Jennifer, catching her breath, leaned her head in towards him. Aware of the change, Doug pulled his head back and looked at her quizzically, his eyes barely visible, but full of desire. Jennifer met his gaze and didn’t turn her head away, so Doug leaned in cautiously and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Jennifer hesitated for a long while, then gently kissed him back. With some excitement, Doug kissed harder, pressing his mouth firmly against hers, his breaths coming more rapidly. Releasing his grip on her arm, he moved his hands back to her body, found the bottom of her sweatshirt and slid his hands underneath. His fingers were cold and rough, and the feel of them against her skin made Jennifer flinch.
As he worked his hands steadily upward, Doug pushed his tongue against her lips, hoping for entry. Jennifer slowly parted them, and Doug excitedly pushed his tongue into her open mouth. He pressed hard against her, consumed with his lust. As his fingers fumbled to unclasp her bra, Jennifer bit down on his tongue as hard as she could.
Doug screamed and grabbed for his mouth, the new feeling an obvious contrast to the sensations that had been coursing through his body. He pulled away from her, and Jennifer brought her knee up, catching him squarely in the groin with a strength and accuracy that surprised even her. Doug collapsed to the ground, the wind rushing loudly from his lungs. Jennifer lunged for her door, spitting his blood from her mouth and wiping his vile saliva from her face.
Doug reached out and grabbed her ankle but was unable to hold on. She jerked her foot away from him and fell inside the house, kicking the door shut behind her, then scrambled to her knees and latched the deadbolt. She slumped with her back against the door, expecting to cry, but instead, it was an intense anger that found her, anger aimed at Doug for what he had done and at herself for being so easily manipulated. “Go away, Doug!” she shouted through the door. “Go away and don’t ever come back here again!”
Jennifer sat with her back against the door until she felt like she was in control of her emotions. She couldn’t tell if Doug had left, but it didn’t matter. With the aid of an old flashlight, its dim beam providing barely enough light to see by, she went down to the basement and straight to Kyle’s gun safe. She dialed the safe’s combination, her hands shaking so much it took her three times to get it open, then felt around inside until she found Kyle’s handgun and the ammunition for it. Returning back upstairs, she spent the remainder of the night on the floor in front of the door, the loaded gun at her side.
CHAPTER 20
Saturday, October 1st
Central Colorado
Kyle knelt in the grass on the edge of the highway, hands braced on his knees. A thin strand of saliva trailed from his mouth to a green pool of vomit in the dirt in front of him.
Exhausted, he waited for the heaving to resume, but was instead granted a reprieve. He sat back on his heels and took in his surroundings as a cool breeze dried the sweat on his forehead. To the east, the prairies rose up to meet the mountains. To the west, the city of Denver was visible with the snowcapped Rockies towering far above it, as if nature was mocking man’s pathetic attempt to create something grand. He’d looked at this same scene through the same windshield for two days, but this was the first time since stopping that he’d felt well enough to appreciate it.
There was no way to determine the exact cause of his illness, but Kyle felt certain it was food poisoning since contact with other people had been too limited to catch anything that way. He’d narrowed down the likely culprits to either a raccoon, eaten three days prior, or water drunk from a slow moving stream. And while none of that particularly mattered at this point, Kyle had had plenty of time to think and found reflecting on the source of his illness to be much less discouraging than worrying about the time he was losing and the task that still lay ahead.
Using his rifle for support, Kyle pulled himself up and walked back to the truck that had become his recovery room. Ever since reaching the freeway he’d kept his rifle close at hand instead of buried in the cart. His first day on the interstate, which was 26 days after the attack, he’d crossed paths with 6 other walkers, most looking more desperate than he felt, and that made him wary. For the week prior to reaching the freeway, all through southern Colorado on the back roads, he’d encountered only 9 others traveling like he was, and this sudden surge in the number or walkers had him on edge.
Before climbing back in the truck, Kyle inspected his handcart to make sure his belongings were secure. He inventoried his food rations and determined that if he was careful, he would have enough food for at least six more days. From a supplies standpoint, the interstate had been good to Kyle, with a considerable number of trucks waiting to be plundered and his conscience long since over any aversion to stealing. Survival and arrival, as he now termed his objectives, were his only concern, and whatever helped him meet those goals was now acceptable. In pre-EMP life, it had been easy to worry about those kinds of things, but now that everything had changed, Kyle was operating under much broader constraints.