I didn’t let myself think of that, though,but only of the sensations. The feel of him in my mouth. The hairon his legs rubbing rough on my skin.
Our first time together.
Our last time together.
When he’d reached his climax, he found myarms with his hands, guiding me upward until I was straddled overhis mouth. He teased me at first, going too slow, pulling back,torturing me with gentleness, until the tension built and built andI was thrusting myself on him, trying to capture his flutteringtongue, begging for release.
“Please …” I gasped. “Please.”
He grabbed my hips, pulling me closer, takingme firmly.
Devouring me.
I shuddered, the pleasure so intense it wasalmost pain, the first ripple in a building, rising wave thatreduced me to nothing but pure sensation.
I could only hope the taste of me, the soundof my screams, gave him as much satisfaction as he gave me.
When my leg muscles could take no more, Imoved back down his body and brushed his lips with mine.
He peered at me, his cheeks flushed, his eyesbright.
I slipped next to him in the bed and fittedmy body against his.
“You were amazing,” I breathed. “Just as Ithought you’d be.”
“You, too.”
I shook my head slowly, the sadness creepingin. “I wish we had more time …”
“Time?” He grinned. “Babe, we got the rest ofour lives.”
His hand moved between my legs and began tostroke.
I had no idea how my body had any more togive, but again I began to respond, despite the specter of deatharound me.
Or maybe because of it.
Sex affirms life.
He shifted, moving on top of me, keeping hisweight on his elbows. I wrapped my legs around him, sighing as heentered me, burying my face in his neck as he began to thrust.
We were the only two people in the world.
Only one of us would see tomorrow.
I couldn’t think of a better way to goout.
When we finished, we held each other.
Held each other, and looked at eachother.
The afterglow faded.
Dread crept back in.
The looking at each other became watchingeach other.
I saw it first, and it felt like a punch tothe gut.
Just a small bruise on the back of thehand.
But it hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Small. Black. Harmless looking.
Then it began to grow, spreading out, takingonly a few minutes to double in size while we both silentlystared.
The nosebleed came next. A trickle at first.Then a steady stream.
“Aw … Chandler …” Kirk said.
I reached for the IV needle.
Hooked up the morphine.
Tried to be brave.
“It’s okay,” Kirk said, staring at me so hardhe must have seen my soul.
The whites of his eyes were bright red.
Subconjunctival hemorrhage.
“It’s not okay,” I said. “Not at all.”
I held his head to my chest.
After that, things happened quickly. Theprogression of the virus, which normally took days, unfolded inunder an hour, right in front of my eyes.
Coughing.
Coughing blood.
Vomiting blood.
Kirk didn’t despair. He didn’t complain. Hedidn’t cry. He didn’t do any talking, other than two softlywhispered words.
“Kill him.”
I promised I would, wanting to squeeze hishand, not being able to because his skin tore as easily as tissuepaper.
By the time I moved to sit on my own hospitalbed, Kirk didn’t even notice. He stared into space, his red eyesblank, the muscles of his face slack. The parts of his brain thatmade him who he was were gone, liquefied by the virus. Only theillness’s final stage remained.
Death.
That word echoed through my mind as Iwitnessed the last moments of Jonathan Kirk.
“When it comes to survival, violence oftenisn’t the best option,” said The Instructor. “But when you chooseto use it, strike hard and fast and destroy your enemy. There is nowinning and losing in a fight, only living and dying.”
The room smelled like a slaughterhouse.
There was a sink, and I did my best to washKirk’s blood off me.
I checked myself for new bruises.
Didn’t find any.
Chilled, I pulled my hospital gown around mynaked skin. My hands trembled, events of the past day catching upto me, overwhelming me. Tears brimmed my eyes, turning the worldinto a blurry mosaic of white and red.
I blinked them back.
Focus.
I am ice. Cold. Hard. A blow torch couldn’tthaw me.
The camera eye stared down from the ceiling.The heart monitor had been turned off, the room silent now exceptfor the drip of Kirk’s blood on tile.
And a soft hiss …
A soft, smoky hiss, coming through theoverhead vent.
I scooped in a breath, held it, thenstaggered and collapsed to the floor.
The hiss continued, long after my lungs hadstarted to scream for oxygen. But I was damn good at holding mybreath, and soon the tone of the sound changed to the hum of aventilation system at work.
I let my air out slow, made my lungs take inbig, deep breaths like I was asleep.
A short time later, the door opened, and fourpeople in full, pressurized hazmat gear lumbered into the room. Iheard the soft sound of wheels, as if they were pushing a tray orgurney, and the suck and release of their SCBA.
“Put her on the bed. I need some blood.”
The voice was muffled, but I could tell itwas the same voice that had spoken to us over the intercom.
“Then where do you want her?”
“In the room with the girl.”
“And him?” another asked.
“You can clean that mess up later.”
Two sets of hands lifted me from the floorand dropped me onto the mattress. I caught a glimpse through mylashes, a tray filled with needles and vials. One of them grabbedmy arm and wrapped a rubber tourniquet around my biceps. I felt thesting of a needle on the inside of my elbow, then a clumsy shiftingas they filled tubes with my blood.
“Okay, got it. I don’t want her waking up.Stick that IV back in and get her sedated. And tie her hands to thebed rails this time. No sense in taking chances.”
I would have preferred to let them take me toJulie before making my move, at least then I’d know her location,but I couldn’t let them put me under. Still if I could bide mytime, take them by surprise, hope that some left to perform otherjobs, I’d have a better
