Chapter 90: Taran

"Heads up!"
Stryker's booming voice startles us both awake. Diogo sits up, immediately slamming his head into the bottom of the pew we'd fallen asleep under. After we had sex, Diogo decided it was the best place for us to be able to sleep together and have decent cover. He barely pauses to absorb the shock before rolling out the other side and leaping to his feet, knife in hand.
"Oh there you are," Stryker grunts. I sit up, blinking sleep from my eyes, just in time to see Stryker throw something at Diogo. When Diogo catches it, I realize it's a rifle.
"The fuck is going on?" Diogo demands, checking the weapon for bullets then cocking it in readiness.
"About a dozen Primitives headed our way, Commander. The guy you put on the edge of town sent up a warning and they appeared down main street a few minutes later. They weren't running like their next meal was about to peel outta town, but they definitely suspect humans in the vicinity. I told the lieutenant to watch our six, but he stopped responding. Think they got him."
"Motherfucker," Diogo growls. He sheathes his knife and pulls his sidearm.
He turns and hands it to me. I shake my head, but he shoves it into my hand. "I don't know how to use it!" I protest.
"How the hell did you get to your age not knowing how to use a damn weapon," Stryker growls. "You're like a helpless sitting duck. May as well go sit out front until the horde arrive."
"I've survived this long!" I feel the need to defend myself.
"Blessed are the fools."
"Hey!" Real anger rises up as Stryker insults me. "I've got skills, asshole."
"So did my grandma. Zombie's didn't give a shit about her knitting abilities when they took her out."
"Enough!" Diogo interjects. "Stryker, you're on the door. I'll cover the windows. Taran, you stay in the middle, use the pews for cover."
The words are barely out of his mouth when the shattering sound of glass fills the area and the high-pitched howl of a Primitive fills the air. We turn in unison to see the twisted body of a Primitive where it lies on the ground, having come through the glass window. We watch as it slowly turns over and pushes itself up, ignoring the glass cutting deep into its flesh.
It stands on the spot for a moment, heaving, the concave, emaciated hollowed out chest moving in and out. Slowly its eyes sweep the area until they land on us. It pauses as its malevolent, crazed gaze lingers, taking us in. Its nose twitches and then the eyes widen, taking on a wild look before it launches itself at us.
I yelp and stumble back hitting Stryker. He pushes me to the side, toward the pews just as Diogo shoots the Primitive in the head, the boom of his rifle reverberating through the church. We don't speak as a moment of shocked silence passes through us.
"I think they know we're here," I point out.
Stryker snorts and heads toward the front of the church, hunching in the doorway between us and the lobby in an attempt to cover both areas.
"Don't engage, Taran. You just hide." Diogo gives the order just as several more Primitives come through the windows, sending shattered glass flying outward. Diogo's face lights up in some kind of savage victory. Like he's enjoying himself, savouring the moment. This is the Warlord shining through. The man who loves a battle and isn't afraid of death.
Shots fire all around us as Diogo and Stryker take out every Primitive that comes through the windows. Banging at the front doors tells me they're trying to get in that way too, but not having as much success as they are shattering the beautiful stained glass windows. Assuming the doors will hold, Stryker makes his way to Diogo's side. They continue shooting in unison, picking off everyone that comes through the window. Gradually the crowd thins until only a few stragglers are left trying to get in. The men cover each other when one needs to reload. I hold my pistol out in front of me, waiting for one to get by, but Diogo and Stryker are faster than the Primitives.
Then the inevitable happens and, with a resounding crack, the front doors are broken open. Stryker spins around, racing toward the Primitives pouring in through the doors. Five, six, seven! I lose count as they overwhelm him. Diogo pulls a knife from his belt and, after killing one more Primitive as it gets stuck on the windowsill into the church, turns to launch himself into the fray of Primitives attacking his man.
I back away from the writhing, screaming bodies, pointing my gun but unable to shoot because my husband is in there somewhere, killing everything he can get his knife on. The only warning I have that a Primitive made it through the window while no one was watching is a terrifying grunting sound and the clatter of someone scrambling over the pews.
I spin around just in time to see it launch itself over the last pew separating us. It lands on top of me, its heavy body slamming into mine and sending us both crashing backward into the pews. I scream and swing my arm up, trying to protect my face and neck. It sinks its teeth into my arm, biting down on the flesh at the same time as I bring my gun up underneath it and shoot it in the chin.
Blood sprays across me and I turn my head to the side so it doesn't get in my mouth and eyes. I try not to look at it as I push it to the side, its teeth dislodging from my flesh. I gasp down at my bleeding arm and cradle it against me.
"Taran!" Diogo shouts.
I look up as he disengages from the melee and hurdles toward me. The Primitives push Stryker back toward where I'm huddled, as if they scent blood and now want to get to me instead of killing Stryker. Diogo lands on his knees in front of me, his gaze first landing on the dead zombie at my side before taking in my bloody arm.
"Fuck, Taran!" Diogo grabs my shoulders and shakes me, sending a wave of dizziness through me. "Were you bitten again?"
I nod and thrust my arm out toward him. It's not nearly as bad as my neck wound had been but the skin is definitely broken, blood welling in the little dents caused by the teeth marks.
"You need to stop getting fucking bitten," he snarls as he wraps my arm using the bandana around his neck. I don't point out that his bandana is filthy and probably more likely to cause infection than just leaving the wound alone. I also don't point out that being bitten by zombies isn't a choice I make for myself, but rather a terrifying event that keeps getting thrust upon me. He's scared for my safety, and when he's scared he reacts in anger.
Looking deep into my eyes, he counts, first the seconds, then the minutes. "Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine" I watch his lips as he counts, counting the numbers with him in my head, shaping them with my lips, though no sound passes through. We barely notice as Stryker protects our backs, staving off the last straggler Primitives who are driven to throw themselves on his weapons in an attempt to reach their prey. "Three minutes." Diogo says, and then starts his count again, "One, two, three, four, five"
Though I was relatively certain I wouldn't turn, I still had a few doubts. But as Diogo ticks the seconds and minutes by, I become more and more certain. I will not turn. There is something in my blood that gives me immunity to the Death Kiss.
"Four minutes," Diogo persists. "One, two, three, four"
The last Primitive falls, Stryker's knife buried in its stomach. He yanks the knife out and a quick flash relieves the zombie of its head. I flinch and look away. The small movement causes Diogo to grip my arms even harder, to shake me until I'm looking at him again.
"Talk to me, Taran," he demands. "Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, five minutes."
I look at him, digging my fingers into his arms, catching him with my fingernails on purpose. I need him to feel the bite of pain, need it to ground his terror. "Diogo, I'm not going to turn."
He shakes his head and keeps counting. I look past him to Stryker who's watching the exchange with exhausted interest, blood dripping from the end of his knife, his pistol lowered to his side. My eyes meet his and a curious expression lights his gaze. Not worry that I'd been bitten, not fear that I could Turn. No, he looks angry, and that anger is directed at me, it glows hotter with each passing second. With each count that Diogo makes.
I shrink back into the pew behind me and close my eyes, willing the time to pass.
Finally, Diogo finishes. "Eight minutes," he says succinctly, stopping his count. Ignoring the torn flesh where I'd dig my fingernails in, he runs his hands up my arms. "You're safe now."
"Never doubted it," I murmur, steeling myself enough to lift my gaze past his shoulder, to meet Stryker's eyes again.
Instead of anger, I see resignation. He shutters his gaze and turns away, leaving us huddled on the floor together.
Diogo grips me hard and pulls me into his embrace. "This is the last time, baby. No more zombie bites. One more time and I'll spank the life out of you."
I laugh and sob at the same time, slapping a hand over my face as he holds me against his shoulder. "Yeah," I say, allowing the weariness to leak into my voice. "I'm good with that."
Maybe a solid spanking will give me incentive to stop getting bitten.
"I mean, on the upside, now we know that first bite wasn't a fluke" I trail off with a laugh, half hysterical half humorous.
Diogo just shakes his head and smashes me against his chest, holding me in a bone crushing grip that is exactly what I need in the moment.