"Yeah, and have you looked at the soldiersrecently?" Joan looked at Clara with confusion in her eyes, so Claracontinued. "I've been watching them, they're different. The looks on theirfaces... there's fear in their eyes, Joan. I can see them breaking down."
"You're just imagining things," Joan said,mostly because she didn't want to believe it.
Clara grabbed Joan by the arm and pulled her out of thetriage center. They climbed a flight of stairs and emerged out onto theconcourse. It was night outside, and the noise of the day had subsided so thatall that was left was the sound of gas-powered generators chugging awayunderneath the moans of the dead who numbered in the thousands. The night wasfilled with the perpetual rattling of the chain-link fence that encircled theColiseum's courtyard.
"Look at them," Clara said.
Joan did look. The soldiers milled about, their faceshaggard, their rifles clutched in their hands as they stood at their guardposts, atop makeshift platforms overlooking the perimeter of the Coliseum.There was little of the good-natured chatter that was so prevalent when theyhad first arrived. Men on the ground walked along the fence, jabbing bayonetedrifles into the eye sockets of the dead. The dead would slump to the ground,only to be replaced by a fresh dead face.
"Notice anything?" Clara asked.
"They're not shooting."
"They haven't been shooting for the last few hours.I asked a soldier why and he said they were conserving ammunition. You knowwhat that means?"
Joan swallowed hard. "They don't have enough bulletsto defend us."
"How long until those fences come down and we'retrapped inside a concrete tomb with no way out?"
"What should we do?" Joan asked.
"I don't know," Clara replied. "The bestthing we can do is be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To fight for our lives."
Chapter 26: Killing Time
Katie's mouth felt dry and funky. They had motoredthrough the wine in her purse in no time, and now they were in a luxury box,their clothes piled on the floor and rays of florescent light reflecting off ofher pale skin. It was "Portland skin" she had always liked to joke, askin conditioned by the clouds of the city into a milky whiteness that almostseemed translucent in the right light.
The lights were off in the luxury box, which was finewith them as they had broken down the wooden door to get into the room in thefirst place. Now they sat on the floor, their hands exploring, their dry,alcohol tongues caressing amid the stray rays of light that managed to sneak infrom the main floor of the Coliseum.
A strange feeling of guilt flitted through the back ofher mind, but was replaced by the touch of cold rough fingers between her legs,flicking and teasing. She could feel herself warm down there, a warmth that shehadn't felt in years.
There had been times when Jason had made her feel thatway, but it had been long ago. This was something new, and then that feelingshowed up again, that guilty feeling. In her head she screamed at herself, He'sdead! There's nothing wrong with this! He's not coming back!
She was divided, literally and figuratively. In herheart, she felt a sense of loyalty that she had completely forgotten about. Herlegs were now spread wide, the skin of her back catching on the cheap carpet ofthe luxury box as he slipped inside of her. She pressed her hands against hischest, and marveled at the strength she felt there as he leaned forward and puthis weight on his arms. How different. Jason had always been soft,somewhat flabby, but Zeke, though he looked much the same, had a layer ofhardened muscle underneath.
She wondered what he had looked like when he was younger,training all day, keeping himself fit and in shape. She closed her eyes andimagined him ten years younger, a ball of muscle and strength, ravaging her.Before she could delve further into her fantasy, he was done, and they lay onthe ground, experiencing the awkward silence of a moment come too soon.
Katie was glad it was dark. She was glad he couldn't seeher face and the disappointment on it. She sighed and rolled over on her side. Whatwas she expecting, something out of a romance novel? She felt his arm snakeacross her ribs, and she suppressed a shudder.
"It'll be better next time," he said. He hadall the tact of most men she supposed. He wasn't a dream come to life. Hewasn't her ticket to a new life. He was just a man, just like Jason was. Alittle more muscular, but still just a man, just a false sense of security thatcame with responsibilities. Nothing in this world was free, especially not now.What was the price of their tryst? Polite conversation? An expectation thatthere would be a next time?
Even at the end of the world she had done it again,fallen into a trap that she made for herself.
Katie stood up, the light playing off of her naked body.She looked down at him in the darkness, at his hairy chest, his muscularforearms, his flaccid penis shining in a ray of light.
"Who said there will be a next time?" Her wordswere cold and as mean-spirited as she could make them.
Zeke put his arm under his head, shifting to his side,his penis lolling on his hip and said, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, I did. I thought I was ready, but I'mnot."
Zeke looked at her, his brown eyes taking her in. Hesmiled. "Hey, no harm no foul."
"Is that what passes for smooth where you comefrom?"
Zeke's eyes rolled in the dim light. He sat up and begansearching for his clothes. "I wouldn't know what passes for smooth. That'snot the type of guy I am. Truth is it's been a while since I've been with awoman. I just thought we could make the best of the situation."
"The best of the situation?" Katie kicked outat Zeke and he shrunk back from her. "Here's the situation, Zeke. Last nightI put a bullet through the head of my husband and my son. Last night, my entirelife was flipped
