ZA Chapter 20: Say a Little Prayer for You

Lucy strutted away, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. She knew she had a mission. She had to find Selig Retsuc. She had to ensnare him with her young body and bring him to Lady M so that she, and the ancients, could break this icky zombie cycle. She shouldn’t be wasting time on Rambo, but…

She glanced down at the green-black stripe across her blouse and the spittle on her Mary Janes. How could a zombie master compare with that? Lucy’s senses were enflamed. She wanted to moan as Cam bit her ear and savaged her naked body. She wanted him inside her. Deep, deep inside her. Without thinking, she sent a mental prayer to the ancients.

Cam's annoyance at her incessant chatter –born of this sudden, undeniable need to have his eyes on her, his hands on her– only heightened the flames of her desire. She hadn’t been this turned on since Bobby took his finger and-

No wait. Come to think of it, she’d NEVER been this turned on.

Oh hurry up, you muscle-bound rock-for-brains, she thought, turning her strut to the left, where there was a cozy little café that would be perfect for what she had in mind, with a shattered picture window and crumbling brick wall. She stopped at the half-a-door sagging on its hinges and there –finally– turned to look back at her quarry.

He was following. Of course he was following. She’d put a strong dose of you-know-you-want-some-o-this-bubble into her strut, didn’t she? And men were so predictable.

Except Cam wasn’t so predictable, was he? He might ravish me. Or he might kill me.

Lucy’s body shivered. Yes. Oh god yes.

She entered the café, put her hands flat on one of the tables and arched her back as Cam stomped through the door.

“I’ve been thinking,” she purred.

“What’s the point o’ that?” Cam growled.

She smiled. “Oh, you took the words right out of my mouth.” She gyrated her hips, just a little bit. “What is the point of that?”

Cam’s furrowed gaze went from her face to her ass, then back to her face. He swallowed, then snarled.

“Can’t you take a break?” she asked. “Just a little break from zombie killing?”

Cam shouldered The Cleaning Lady and strode toward her. He drew his dagger in a flash, his knuckles white where they gripped the handle. Lucy closed her eyes. Which would it be? Big death or little death? The anticipation rocked her body, and she shivered again. She felt the cold steel against the small of her back, and she tensed.

A quick rip and her blouse fell away.

“Yes,” she moaned. His rough hands slid across her belly, up over her ribs. She thanked the ancients. Yes, she thought. Further. More. Please. She wanted him inside her.

He stopped.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder.

But Cam stood up straight, neck erect and head turned to the side as though he was listening to something.

She grabbed his thick belt and yanked him toward her. “Don’t stop, Rambo.”

But the big dolt looked like a giant meerkat sniffing the wind.

“Virgil needs me,” he said.

“Fuck Virgil. I need you!” she said.

He glanced down at her with glazed eyes that looked right through her. He shook his head, sheathed his dagger, and stooped to pick up The Cleaning Lady.

Lucy ground her teeth. Jesus H. Christ, didn’t ANYthing go right in this fucking world? She pushed off the table and grabbed his T-shirt, but he shrugged her off, and she stumbled to her knees.

Cam kicked the half-door off its hinges and marched into the street. He looked left, looked right.

Then his whole body spasmed, and his head snapped back. The Cleaning Lady clanged on the concrete as Cam dropped like a sack of stones.

Something smacked Lucy in the forehead, and she doubled over. She couldn’t see for a moment, and put a hand up to what she figured would be the bloody mangled bits of her torn-open head. But there was no blood. Her eyesight returned in time to see Selig Retsuc shuffle through the doorway, a horde of zombies at his back. Half of them moved to surround Cam’s body in the street.

“Oh hell…” she groaned, gritting her teeth at the pain.

“Dear Lucy,” the shredded, burnt fat man said, lurching forward. “How lovely to see you again. I’ve missed you so.”

Lucy put both hands on her head. She felt like she had to hold her brains in or they’d come spilling onto the floor.

Selig continued, his slightly British-accented voice tapping on her tender skull like a hammer. “I’ve felt incomplete since I last saw you. It’s almost as if you took the most important part of me with you when you left.”

Lucy said, “Rrrggflf.”

“Things were going quite nicely until that meat-headed jock opened your cage and set you free. I didn’t expect to see him, you see. I thought he would have become one of my flock long before now, but it appears the brainless bastard can carve on himself like a Christmas turkey and like it. The infection wasn’t getting anywhere.”

Voices carombed off the walls of Lucy’s skull, and she hummed through gritted teeth, rocking back and forth.

“So I sucked his soul out of his body. Quick, quiet. No fuss. It’s one of dear Lady M’s tricks, you know. Well, except reversed. Isn’t it wonderful that the most benevolent treatments can always be twisted into something nasty?” Selig sighed, and his crispy belly shreds jiggled. “I won’t have to worry about dear Mr. Sparks mucking with my plans anymore. Things will go back to normal with Dar, Captain and Virgil leading the charge.”

He shuffled closer. “And now, dear Lucy, though I do like this particular subservient posture on you, we can get to that later once certain pieces have been put back in their proper places.”

The painful voices in Lucy’s head coalesced into one as Selig’s pale, bloated hand lifted her chin up to face him.

“I have some questions for you, young Lucy.” His zombie army shuffled into the café behind him, stinking of dead flesh, petroleum and cookies. “And I do hope you’ll answer them, otherwise this encounter is likely to be much less pleasant than our last one.”

“Go fuck yourself, ya goddamned zombie whale!” Lucy head-butted Selig straight in the chin. He stumbled back into the arms of his zombies. Lucy jumped to her feet, reached for her knife-

-and smacked her bare thigh.

“Where the fuck am I?” she said in a gravely voice, staring down at her body.

“Holy hell,” Lucy said again, this time in her own voice. The realization crashed in on her with shocking clarity.

The ancients had answered her prayer.