Megan awoke slowly, her semiconscious already sifting through the events of the previous day. The conflict with Pringle weighed heavily on her. She knew she would have to do something soon, make some movement toward a compromise; otherwise, they were all doomed.
Her thoughts turned to Jack. He intrigued her. She replayed their exchange after the zombie incursion. It had triggered something lurking deep within. It made no sense, yet somehow his presence felt right at a primal level, his quiet strength, the way he held his ground against Pringle’s challenge, the casual manner in which he met her gaze, his eyes filled with a lingering sadness. She wanted to be close to him. No. She needed to be close to him. To be with him.
Her face grew hot; she blushed. A devious smile blossomed on her lips. Almost without thinking, she slipped a hand beneath the covers, tracing her fingers along the plane of her belly, then pressing them to the warmth building between her legs. She closed her eyes, imagining Jack above her. For the briefest instant, some small part of her attempted to dismiss the fantasy, to relegate it to a simple infatuation. But it was no use. Her desire triumphed, and she abandoned all pretense at control, succumbing to the rush of the moment. She began to touch herself, slowly at first, then increasing the tempo. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her vision dimmed, pinpricks of light flashed at the edges, and then it snapped back into stark clarity as she reached climax. A small moan escaped her lips. She shuddered. “Jack…”
Megan lay still for what seemed an eternity. She panted softly, basking in the afterglow with her eyes closed and a contented smile lingering on her lips. As her euphoria began to fade, she found herself wondering ‘what if’? What if Jack feels the same way? How would it work? Could it work? She opened her eyes, her smile crumbling. It’s impossible. Or is it? She chewed her lip, considering her predicament. Everything was different now. We’ve all done things we never would have done before. All of us. Some worse than others. Regardless, she could easily imagine the look of disgust on his face when she told him of her past. Revulsion. Condemnation.
She shook her head and tried to dismiss the image. There’s nothing I can do about that now. It’s part of who I am. Who I was.
With a dismayed groan, Megan kicked the sheets from her feet and sat up. She shivered, chilled as the light sheen of sweat evaporated. I’ll deal with this later, she told herself as she got up. Right now I have work to do.
Today’s job was a supply run into the center of town. They were planning to loot a construction tool rental company in hopes of finding a trailer-mounted diesel generator. Up until now, the community had survived without electricity, taking water from the stream in the canyon and using candles for light. A generator would give them flexibility to draw from the well as well as the ability to use power tools and the equipment necessary to maintain the vehicles. She even held out hope that they could power up the bank of dark computers in the back of the ranger station and use the satellite dish on the roof to connect to the internet, if it still existed. It would be nice to see if there was anything left of the outside world.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Megan sprang from her bed and began to dress—thick, canvas cargo pants and a cotton tank top. She laced up a pair of heavy hiking boots as well to protect against broken glass. After a quick scan of the room, she decided she was ready to go.
Despite the new complications in her life, Megan found herself whistling as she strapped on her guns and hefted her armored jacket from the chair beside the bed. This is going to get interesting.