I know that smell.  I hate that smell…

I stopped and pulled out my sample packets of Vicks mentholated rub and handed two of them to Kyle and LeShawn.  We all applied the ointment in and around our noses.  I told them to use it generously; it would help to block the smell.

The smell of death is hard to describe.  Within seconds, it spans a whole spectrum of human sensations.  Within the first milli-second, it smells sweet, then it becomes earthy, and then spicy.  Immediately after the spiciness comes the sharp sourness.  The colors of brown and green flash through your brain, then the sharp sourness seeps into your stomach… you become nauseous and try very hard not to retch.   At this point, your mind jumps into play and you wonder what soul or spirit was lost from this world.  Finally, your emotions kick in and you start to mourn the loss of the being that died. 

I guess I analyzed the smell of death so that I could face it every day for the last six years.  But, no matter how much I tried to impersonalize it, objectify it, death was still a horrible thing to see.

We walked through the front door and the brightness of the entrance hall was almost blinding.  The entry hall had a solarium ceiling, and sunlight poured in and reflected off of the white walls of the hall.  Like a macabre, abstract painting, the bright, white walls provided a vivid contrast to the splotches, splatters, and smears of the blood and brain matter that marred them.    

Three bodies lay in the entry hall.  One body was that of a man of African descent, who was dressed in an UPS delivery uniform and was lying twisted under a decorative hall table.  The form of a Caucasian woman was sprawled on her back in the very center of the hall, but it was hard to tell the woman’s age because her face was missing.  Another Caucasian woman, young and pretty, was lying in a crumpled heap, with the look of sheer terror frozen on her face.  I saw a Caucasian, probably female, severed arm lying against the left hall wall; it didn’t belong to either woman.

To the right of the entrance hall was a large, lovely visitor’s room, which was decorated in the Victorian style.  The furniture was made of cherry and was elaborately carved.  Furniture upholstery and adornments were done in the colors of mauve and burgundy.  

The room was lavishly decorated for Christmas…I forgot that it was Christmas time…Christmas is several weeks away.  Jez - how could I forget that?   The cream and plum Christmas decorations were tasteful highlights.  Unfortunately, the victim’s bodies detracted from the beauty of the room. 

Bodies were strewn about, as if a child had irresponsibly tossed its toys.  A few pieces of furniture were tipped over.  One elderly victim was still in her wheelchair, with her head hanging down her side, suspended by a neck muscle.  Other victims were in various stages of horrific destruction.  You could tell who had tried to flee the room and who had tried to hide or protect themselves with furniture. 

I pulled out and put on a pair of protective, rubber gloves.  I motioned my deputies to do the same.  We always carried them.

We slowly walked down the entrance hall, past the receptionist’s desk and through the double-swing doors into the back of the building.  This part of the building looked and smelt like a hospital ward.  There were two long halls or I guess they called them ‘wards,’ that jutted to the right and left.  In the center of where the two wards met was a large half-octagon shaped nurse’s station, which faced you as you came through the swinging doors.  I saw doors up and down both ward halls, which probably lead to patient rooms and support rooms. 

Masticated bodies were draped over the nurses’ station.  Other mutilated corpses lay behind the station, obviously these victims were trying to hide but weren’t very successful.  I glanced down both wards and saw that both halls were dotted with corpses of victims.  Mixed in and around the bodies were pools of blood…in some cases, lakes of blood.  And the smell…the smell was atrocious; the stench was a powerful mixture of rotting flesh, urine, blood, feces, rotten food…I stopped my further analysis because it started to get to me.

I saw something that was so alarming that I gasped.  There was a pair of bloodied hand prints on one of the walls.  I felt tears stinging my eyes.  The handprints were tiny, like a child’s.

Deep breaths, Jo.  In…out…in…out… 

I heard a retching sound; it was LeShawn, who was losing his breakfast.  I put all of my efforts into resisting the urge to join him. 

“Guys, breathe through your mouths, not your nose!”  I said this loudly to get the guys attention away from their own thoughts.  Apparently, I was loud enough for someone to hear me.

“Hello?  Hey, who’s out there?”  Sheriff Bernie Browne stepped out of a room on the left ward, stopped and stared at me and my men.  Bernie was a member of the werewolf pack; ‘kin’ was the code word that they used when referring to a werewolf.  He was paunchy, middle-aged, and medium in height.  He seemed frazzled. 

“Sheriff Lautner, is that you?”  He didn’t wait for my response; instead he briskly walked towards me while talking up a storm. 

“Bernie Browne – call me Bernie.  Is ‘Jo’ okay with you?”  I nodded a ‘yes’ while he continued talking, “Listen, all Hell’s broke loose up in here; I just nearly shit myself when we came in.  Listen, I need your men on the perimeter, ‘cos we still may have these killers around.  My men are out walking the grounds and nearby woods.  I need you to come with me, I got a witness but he’s not responding to me.  You bein’ a woman and all, he may talk to ya.”

I quickly ordered Kyle and LeShawn to secure the building on the outside, and I followed Sheriff Brown back to the room that he had left. 

It was a patient’s room with a single hospital bed, but someone had made the effort to personalize it with home comforts.  There were homey knickknacks and furnishings mingled in with the life-saving equipment.  An elderly man sat in a visitor’s chair.  He was pleasant looking, and plump, but diminutive in size due to the harshness of old age.  He was dressed in a black suit and tie, which were probably quite fashionable in the seventies.  He looked flustered.  He was using a cotton handkerchief to wipe sweat off of his hair-rimmed, bald head. 

“Ah, Jo…This here’s Mr. Carlton Hughes.  He’s from here in Monroe.  He was comin’ to visit his wife, Mrs. Mildred Hughes, and when he got here he…found all of this here.”  Bernie raised his voice and spoke to Mr. Hughes as if he was hard of hearing, “Sir, this here’s Sheriff Jo Lautner!”    

While I moved another visitor’s chair to sit next to the elderly man, Mr. Hughes reprimanded Bernie.  “Stop yellin’ at me, I ain’t hard of hearin’!” 

I slowly placed my hand on one of Mr. Hughes’ gnarled ones.  His hand was so frail that I took extra care to not apply any pressure.  He looked at me and attempted to greet me politely, but it really was too much for him.  I tried to give him the warmest smile that I could muster.

I spoke slowly and politely, and hoped that I didn’t sound patronizing.  “Mr. Hughes, I’m Sheriff Jo Lautner, from Bon Temps.  I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m so sorry.  Can you tell me anything at all about what happen here?”

Several tears fell from the elderly gentlemen’s eyes and his lips trembled.  He quietly mumbled, “I dunno.”  His body jerked with a suppressed sob, “I was here just a few days ago, and everything was fine.  Just fine…”  He wiped his nose with his handkerchief, sniffed and continued, “I had lunch with my Mildred, they had tapioca, she loves tapioca, and…everythin’ was just fine.  The Millots were here-“

Ted?  I barely was able to contain a reflex action to jump up, but I did interrupt him, “Ted Millot?”

Mr. Hughes gazed at me with soft brown eyes that were slightly clouded by cataracts.  He nodded, “Yes, that was him and his family and his brothers, and they’z families.  They’z all was celebrating their momma’s birthday, she lives here.  I believe she was turnin’…oh, I can’t remember…Oh, yes - eighty-four.  She was turnin’ eighty-four.  They had cake; and the children were here and they had balloons…” 

He smiled to himself and momentarily drifted off, caught up in the joy of the memory.  I cleared my throat, which successfully brought him back to the here and now.  “Oh…sorry…I couldn’t have the cake since my sugar is too high…I got the diabetes…so I left…I had to get to the store.  I come every third day this time of year, because the cold bothers my joints…This mornin’ I came and I seen all these cars and vans.  I thought it was odd.”

Mr. Hughes gulped in a mouthful of air and unevenly blew it out.  He was bracing himself for the rest of his story.  “The smell.  I wondered who’d been huntin’ and didn’t clean out their truck.  I come in the building and saw all of the…my sweet Lord…the, the bodies…I ran back here to my Mildred but I couldn’t find her, so I went lookin’.”  His thoughts entrapped him for a moment and he went silent.

I prompted him to speak, “Mr. Hughes, did you see something?  Did you see anyone?”

He shook his head ‘no’ and then continued to talk.  “No.  But I heard a lot.  There was these weird growling sounds, like an animal’s but it wasn’t, I knowed it was humans making them noises.  Just horrible, animal-like… Then I hear bangin’ and all kinds of raucous - like a fight’s goin’ on!  I heard yellin’...painful yellin’…so I hide in the restroom in this room.  I locked both doors, the room and the restroom…Cell phones don’t work here…I had tried the regular phones but they was dead, so I grabbed the radio off of…Able…he…he delivers the linens…he’s…his body is outside the door there…I waited for them all to get on out and then I called on his radio and I got through and they all called y’all…I can’t find my Mildred...I can’t find her.”  His emotions broke through his reserve and he bowed his head and silently wept.

I gently placed my arm around Mr. Hughes’ frail shoulders and gently pulled him close to me. 

While listening to the elderly gentleman talk, Bernie had walked over to the window in the room and was staring out into the back woods behind the building. 

I gave Mr. Hughes a few comforting words and a couple of gentle pats, before I excused myself and walked over to Bernie.  I asked him about the status of the ambulances and backup crew.  He responded that his people should arrive at any minute but he requested that I call for additional support.  I discreetly walked into the restroom and radioed out to George, the deputy that I had left outside to stand guard at our cruisers.  I instructed him to call our station and have them contact all stations on the east side of the parish, and request teams to come and aid at the crime site. 

As I finished talking with George, I heard Bernie loudly curse – “What the Hell?”  I quickly rejoined him at the window. 

What the Hell is right!  I saw a deputy – not one of my men – running in a zigzag pattern trying to elude a middle-aged woman who was chasing him.  The deputy was yelling at her, and from the way he flailed his arms, it looked like he was ordering her to stop chasing him.  The chase scene was almost bizarrely funny, like an English comedy show, except the deputy was covered in blood.

Bernie took off running out of the room.  Before I left, I took a couple of seconds to tell Mr. Hughes to lock the door behind us and stay put until we got back, I took off at full speed and was able to catch up to Bernie.

While Bernie and I ran towards the desperately fleeing deputy, I saw that my two deputies, Kyle and LeShawn, had already reached his location and had intercepted and were engaging the woman.  She put up quite a struggle and Kyle and LeShawn were having great difficulty in subduing her.  She demonstrated an impressive amount of strength.    

When Bernie and I reached the scene, the deputy that was being chased had already collapsed to the ground, and was trying to talk between gasps for air.  “She attacked Petey!”  “She bit him!  She fucking bit him and tore out his neck!”  “She’s crazy!”  “HE’S DEAD!  That bitch killed him!”

Chaos ruled from that moment on.

Bernie dropped to his knees and tried to console and examine the wounds of his deputy; I joined Kyle and LeShawn and worked on subduing the woman.  She was on her back, and we needed to get her on her stomach, which is the best way to hold and cuff a perp.  I had to shout over the wailings and screams of the woman to communicate with my men.  “Don’t let her scratch or bite you!  We need to get her on her stomach.” 

LeShawn was sitting at the head of the woman, holding her arms above her head.  On the count of ‘three,’ Kyle and I rolled her over while LeShawn continued to hold her wrists.  As we rolled her, the woman found a weakness in LeShawn’s grip and was able to pull free of him. 

In the tick of a second, she grabbed one of LeShawn’s arms and bit him.  He let out a gut-wrenching scream.  She bit deep into muscle and then twisted her head from side-to-side until she successfully ripped out a chunk of LeShawn’s arm.  She then lurched at him and sank her teeth into his shoulder.  She effectively tore and shredded the muscles and ligaments of his shoulder, as if she were a shark.  LeShawn was helpless against her attack and Kyle and I tried desperately to dislodge her, but she wouldn’t budge. 

I made an executive decision; keeping in mind A.J.’s prior orders to shoot to maim, not kill, I jumped up, quickly unholstered my gun, took careful aim and fired into her thigh.  She instantly let go of LeShawn, screaming in pain. 

While she withered and moaned, Kyle and I pulled LeShawn away from her.  Kyle immediately applied pressure to LeShawn’s wounds and I acted as a protective barrier between her and everyone else.  I watched with trepidation as she quickly recovered from the pain of her wound and re-focused her attention on LeShawn.  I started shouting at her to get on her stomach.  She ignored me.  I could clearly see her face.  She was probably in her thirties, there was some kind of black goo all over her, LeShawn’s blood was dripping from her mouth, and her eyes were ghoulish looking – yellowish and cloudy. 

The woman started to pull herself towards LeShawn and I put up a strong defense of kicking and shoving her.  But she wouldn’t stop.  I shouted a warning to her to stop, letting her know that I would shoot her again, but she completely ignored me.  She seemed to get a spurt of energy and successfully struggled to her feet.  I yelled my final warning at her to get down and stay down. 

Her eyes were now focused on me.  She came at me - I fired at her again, this time catching her in her shoulder – she stopped in her tracks, but she didn’t go down.  The new wound seemed to have very little effect on her, she recovered and kept coming. 

Just as I was lining up my next shot, this time at her hip, I heard gunfire and I saw the side of her skull explode.  She stopped dead – literally, and dropped to the ground.  I quickly looked over to our group, looking for the shooter.  It was Kyle; he was crouched down, still cradling LeShawn with his left arm and still pointing his gun at the woman with his right arm.  His face was grime with a determined set to his jaw.  He slowly lowered his gun.

Kyle went into shock, as most people would.  Killing another human being is a life experience that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.  The act of self-defense doesn’t ease the agony of guilt for the shooter.  I knew Kyle had never shot another human being and I normally would have handled him with kid gloves. But, now was not the time to coddle him, we still could have hostiles around and I needed him to function.

“Kyle?  It’s alright Kyle.  Do–you-hear-me?   You did the right thing.  I need you, buddy.  I need you to stay sharp, do you hear me?  Look at me.  Kyle - look at me!”  Kyle looked at me.  “I need you to focus on the here and now.  Stay alert!  Get out of your head!  We aren’t out of it.  We need you!  You got me? KYLE?”  My last shout startled him and snapped him out of his stupor.

I told him to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth.  “Now, start talking to LeShawn, and keep him calm.  Bernie, where the fuck are your people?”

Poor Bernie – this all had been too much for him.  He was a frozen statue.  I shouted at him, but he ignored me.  His face was a mask of blatant fear.  He pointed at something behind me and stammered out, “Oh good L-Lord, look behind you!” 

I had been standing with my back to the woods so I spun around and looked in the direction that Bernie was pointing.  I saw a male running towards us.  The man was very young, probably mid-teens, and small in stature.  He was infected – it was obvious by his appearance and the horrific screeching sound that he was making. 

Oh shit!

I raised my gun and yelled at the teenager to halt.  From behind me, I felt someone reach around and pull me into a neck hold.  My gun was yanked out of my hand.  It was Bernie.

“NO!  Damn you!  Don’t you fire!  I know him!  It’s Ted’s boy, Emmett.  He’s kin!”  Bernie pushed me away and slowly jogged towards Emmett, shouting at him to stop running and to stay back from us.   I bellowed at the top of my lungs at Bernie to stay away from the teen, but he didn’t heed me, he kept jogging towards the teenager. 

I couldn’t believe Bernie.  Had he gone mad?  That teen is going to kill him!  And sure enough, the teen took a running leap and landed on Bernie, knocking him to the ground.  Emmett bit down into Sheriff Bernie’s neck, then twisted and turned he head until he had successively ripped out Bernie’s jugular vein.  Bernie died instantly. 

Shit, Bernie has my gun!  I ran towards Kyle and the two wounded deputies.  I glanced back and saw Emmett chomping on Bernie; he was just tearing into Bernie’s chest.  It was horrible to witness.  Kyle had tried to fire his gun, but it had jammed.  He was cursing and calling to me, letting me know that he couldn’t help.  He got up and it looked like he was bracing himself to fight Emmett. 

I got to the first deputy that was wounded and told him to give me his gun.  He pulled out his gun and pointed it at me and threatened me.  “You ain’t getting this gun and killing that boy.  That’s Ted’s boy!  He’s kin!”  Kyle yelled at him, “Joe Bob, knock it off, are you crazy?  Give her the gun!” 

I couldn’t believe what I saw next, Joe Bob yelled “Youze a fuckin’ traitor!” at Kyle and then shot him.  Kyle was hit in his right shoulder and the impact of the bullet had knocked him to the ground.  Kyle writhed in pain, moaning loudly. 

I immediately kicked Joe Bob’s gun from his hand, it went sailing back behind us.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see where it landed.  As I moved to search for it, Joe Bob had decided to do all that he could do to save his werewolf kin from me.  He punched and grabbed my leg, and successfully brought me down.

I fell on my belly and cried out in pain when my knee connected with some hard object that was on the ground.  I think I found the gun…       

I then heard a hair-raising, horrifying scream coming from Joe Bob.  I turned over and saw Emmett removing a chunk of Joe Bob’s face.  I scrambled around on the ground, grappling for the gun, and trying to distance myself from Joe Bob and Emmett. 

An eerie, high pitched shrieking sound caught my attention.  l looked up just in time to see Emmett scamper over Joe Bob’s body and take a running leap towards to me.  He reminded me of a flying lizard.  I rolled out of his landing range but he was able to grab hold of one of my legs and immediately tried to bite me.  I kicked him in the face and knocked him off of me before he could do any damage.

It turned into a free-for-all, we wrestled and rolled, he was snapping like a gator and I was kicking, shoving, and punching.  I had a hold of his hair and was pulling his head away from my face when I heard the loud snap of a gunshot.  I was instantly sprayed with blood and brain matter.  Emmett’s body was pulled off of me by invisible hands, while another pair of invisible hands scooped under my armpits and hauled me to my feet.  I was then looking into the warm, concerned, beautiful brown eyes of Roman.

He said something, but I missed it. “What?” 

He yelled into my face, “We’ve got to get you washed off, now!  It’s all over your face!”  With that, Roman grabbed me and practically carried me back to the building.   I peripherally saw cruisers, trucks, vans, and emergency vehicles pull up.  People jumped out from every vehicle and immediately started to unload equipment or aid the wounded in the field.

Roman pulled me into the first patient room that we came upon and pushed me into the bathroom.  “Take off your shirt and wash that shit off of you!  Fast!  Keep your mouth and eyes shut so nothing gets inside.  I’ll find you something to put on.  Do it now, Jo, NOW!”  He left me in search of a top for me to wear. 

Oh my God – no, no, no, no, no - please God, no!

I kept saying those words over and over again in my head, like a mantra, while I ripped off my shirt, grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed my face, neck, and chest.  I doused my hair to get rid of any particles of human matter.  After I thought I had cleaned off all of the teenager’s bits and pieces from my body, I worked on calming myself.  I did one of the relaxation exercises that I had been taught in the hospital.  The exercises helped with the anxiety attacks that I experienced during my recovery from the helicopter crash.

I leaned close to the restroom mirror to examine a mark on my face – when I saw it.

With shaky hands, I reached up to the corner of my mouth and scratched at a tiny object that was wedged in the corner of my mouth.  It was no bigger than a bread crumb.  I dislodged it and held it on my index finger while I examined it closely.  It was a small, hard, jagged pebble that was white and red.  A wave of raw fear washed over me, paralyzing me for a few moments.  I knew what it was; it was a piece of bloodied, human bone.  It was a piece of Emmett’s skull.  It had wedged itself into the corner of my mouth when his brain and skull exploded all over me.  I willed myself to look at my mouth and I saw a trace of blood in the corner, where the piece of skull had been hiding.

I freaked out.  Like a deranged person, I splashed water into my mouth and scrubbed it with my bare fingers.  I saw mouthwash and grabbed it and used the whole bottle.  I frantically searched for something – anything - that would clean my mouth and possibly kill any of the germs that may have transferred to my mouth from the bone.  I found peroxide and gargled with it, but had to stop using it when my mouth became sensitive.  I looked for other products but couldn’t find anything.

I slowly collapsed onto the floor.  My mind raced in a hundred directions.  Oh my God, I got it…I fucking got it…I’m going to DIE!…I’m going to…why is this happening to me, what did I do…I can’t…Please no, God, no…Please no, please!  I’ve never  fallen in love!…I wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt…I haven’t seen my baby brother in so long…I need to see you…Oh Billy, I’m so sorry – I love you so much…Maybe I could leave now…

Like a woman gone mad, I started laughing to myself.  Hey, I’ll go hop a plane and see Billy!  And right when I arrive at his home, I would fucking turn into a zombie and kill him and Lance.  Fabulous idea!  Oh shit…Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - FUCK!

Calm down…breathe deep, Jo. Get it together.  In through the nose, out from the mouth…in…out…that’s it…no tears, DAMMIT!  DON’T CRY!  This is not the time to be a pussy. 

I roughly wiped away the few tears that had dared to defy me.  I kept doing my breathing exercises and I tried not to think about anything.  I felt pain in my hands; I looked down and saw that I was clenching my hands into fists.  My nails were dug into my palms so deeply that I thought I was about to draw blood.  I stopped it immediately.  I willed myself to focus my mind and plan my next twenty-four hours. 

I’m going to go back out there and re-join the team and do what I can do.  Then I’m going to go home and I’m going to handle this…with dignity, by myself.  I don’t want to hurt anyone; I don’t want to be restrained in hospital – I don’t want anyone to see me like that.  I will be in charge of my life…what’s left of it - to the end.

For the rest of the day, I followed my plan. 

A.J. and Liam had also arrived with the first wave of support.  Liam took over administering to the wounded and processing the dead; A.J. walked around cursing everything and everyone.  Roman ran the whole crime scene, commanding and directing all personnel.   I almost felt like I was back in Iraq, with all the vehicles, equipment, and personnel spread out everywhere.

Once the area was secured – truly secured – A.J. called for an impromptu meeting of all available personnel.  “Awright – we’ve got a fuckin’ mess on our hands.  Now listen up, I want every inch processed, but all bodies will remain here.  They can’t be embalmed and buried.  I’ve had a meetin’ with…a reliable source, and we need to burn them bodies.  They ain’t safe for us to handle or have in the ground, in case their bodies mix with underground water.”  No one asked questions, we all just wanted to get it over with.

After about two hours of working inside the building, I stepped outside for a break.  I walked around back and watched as a backhoe that had just arrived, dig a huge trench in which the bodies would be placed, burned, and then covered over.

Liam quietly appeared beside of me.  “Hey.  So, other than tottering through bodies and fending off zombies – how has your day been?”  He was a sight for sore eyes.  Sure, he was a refined, handsome doctor, with enough charm to make a mean nun giggle – but it was the naughty sparkle in his eye which I found truly appealing and sexy.

I chuckled at him.  Maybe someone else would have taken offense at what seemed like callousness, but not me - I enjoyed his quirky sense of humor.  With a syrupy-sweet voice, I replied, “Oh, just peachy!  These joint operations brings us all together and it makes me feel…oh…soooo warm and fuzzy.”

He snickered and leaned into me, bringing our shoulders together.  With a conspirator’s whisper, he made some suggestions.  “If I were you, I’d ask for a raise.  Or an extended holiday.  Maybe both.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him and responded, “Let’s not forget the well deserved bonus – margaritas served by hot cabana boys, by the pool, at a very exclusive and expensive resort.  All paid for by them.”

Liam tried to conceal his mirth, but ended up snorting loudly.  “Well…I could oblige you with two out of three of those requests.  I happened to have worked as an exotic dancer to pay for extra expenses whilst in university.  And I make a mean margarita.”

I looked at Liam with an incredulous, beaming smile.  “Reeeaaaally?  My dear doctor, I just keep on developing more and more respect, and inappropriate thoughts, for you all the time.”

He and I quietly laughed together.  You’re something, Liam.  Why didn’t we ever…stop it, Jo.  Just enjoy this moment.   I then did something spontaneous that startled both of us; I pulled him into a tight hug.  He responded and hugged me back.  I probably held onto him a little longer than I should have, but I needed the extra time to force back tears...and silently say ‘good-bye.’ 

“Hey Leprechaun!  Get it over here; A.J. needs to ask you something.”  Roman marched up to us looking pissed.  Liam and I released each other.

Liam ignored Roman’s gruffness and responded with a great deal of tolerance, “I’m from Scotland, we don’t have leprechauns.  You’re thinking of Ireland.”

Roman sneered back at Liam and spat out, “Who gives a fuck!  Move your ass now, or I’ll move it for you!” 

Liam glared back at Roman.  I curtly cleared my throat, hoping that Roman would get my message to stop being rude, but he ignored me.  He and Liam locked eyes and commenced with a staring contest.  What is it with men and staring contests?  After twenty or more long seconds, Liam broke the stalemate. 

He lowered his voice so that only I could hear him and said to me, “I’ll call you later, lass.  Okay?”  I smiled and nodded ‘yes.’ With an air of refined dignity, Liam walked away. 

I waited until Liam was out of hearing range and then I snapped at Roman, “What the Hell was that?  He’s a nice guy.  He’s…he’s my friend and has been a tremendous help to me.  Knock it off!” 

Why does everyone pick on Liam?

Roman closed his eyes, shook his head before then looked away from me.  He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear. 

A silence fell between us.  Roman looked sullen and I looked sour.  It was the first time that we had really seen each other and talked since the incident at my house.   And here we were, pissed at each other and not speaking.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.  Damn, he looks good.  He’s a good chunk of a man.  Assholes always are.   

Roman cleared his throat, adjusted his stance, and without looking at me, started to talk.  “A.J. found out some stuff from someone he knows, about all of this.  It’s not good - there’s no turning it around, you get it and then you die…It’s crossing all the major species – human, vampire, werewolf…Some of the men are calling the victims zombies…I can’t believe this shit.  I thought I had seen it all.”

I broke out in a cold sweat and my heart started pumping as fast as a rabbit’s.  Oh God…deep breaths, don’t think about – don’t think about.  It’s going to be okay…I’ve got it all in control.  It’s going to be okay.

Roman continued to talk while I frantically tried to calm myself.  Something he said caught my full attention. 

“Ted must have become infected at the hospital when he was guarding the first set of quarantined victims.  He apparently stopped by his brother’s house and it spread there.  So, a little less than twenty-four hours later, he and some of his family members arrive here and hold a birthday party for their mother.  He and his brothers must have been ready to turn when they showed up.  They got here, turned, and attacked everyone.  Some of the wounded got away, and they turned and then they came back…Oh, by the way…Ted is dead.  Someone stabbed him in the throat with a shard of broken glass…It’s spreading faster than before, twice as fast.”

He stopped and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking at me, but I didn’t look back at him.  I was trying very hard to fend off an anxiety attack.  My breathing exercises weren’t working.  I had some anti-anxiety pills in a snap pocket of my holster.  I carried them for emergencies, like now.  As inconspicuously as possible, I slowly retrieved a tablet; I turned away from Roman and pretended to watch the backhoe move to the side of the building.  I quickly slipped the tablet into my mouth and swallowed it. 

Roman started to talk again and was repeating information, which was probably a mechanism to help him accept the reality of the situation.  “It’s spreading faster.  Ted’s mother-in-law said she saw him early the next morning, after he got the infection.  He looked very sick then, but wouldn’t change his mind about going to the party…The first symptoms are flu-like.  It’s spreading fast now - instead of two or three days, it’s taking less than one day.”  He stopped talking and pursed his lips, and fixed his eyes on the backhoe’s efforts.

Come on damn pill!  Start working!

The wounded images of LeShawn and Kyle flashed crossed my mind.  “One of my deputies, LeShawn Black was bitten…So, it’s certain that ah…he’s going to…die…and soon?”  Roman didn’t respond, so I took his silence as an affirmation.    “Kyle, Kyle Bauer.  He’s my other wounded deputy.  He wasn’t bitten.  He was shot in the arm.  How is he?  He’s alright – right?”   

“We’ll see.  He’s at the hospital, under surveillance.”  Roman awkwardly shifted his weight from one leg to the other.  “I just about had a heart attack when I saw that boy on top of you.  I thought you…you’re good though, right?”

I gave Roman a reassuring smile.  “I’m fine, no bite marks.  I’m good.”  I almost believe my lies.

 He looked into my eyes and leaned closer to me and quietly said, “Good…Jo…I’ll always have your back.  You know that, right?  You know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah…okay.”  I cracked a smile and gently pushed him away from me.  “Just back off - don’t get all mushy on me.  I don’t want your fiancé showing up at my house, taking more shots at me.”

Roman snapped his head back as if he had been slapped.  “Jo, we need to talk.”

“Roman, we’re good.  Hey, let’s just not forget the most important thing: your wife-to-be is a good shot.  I know I won’t.”  I chuckled until I saw a pained expression on his face and then playfully slapped his upper arm.  “Come on, Roman.  Lighten up.”  I bumped him with my shoulder and walked back towards the entrance of the building.  I stopped, turned around to look at him, and said, “Roman – I’m real happy for you.  Really – I swear it.  I always want the very best for you.  I always have and I always will.  Don’t ever forget that.”  I didn’t stay to see his reaction, I quickly continued on my way back to the building. 

Good-bye Ro.  I’ll always love you.

So many funerals…I might be one of them…

I arrived home at nine that night.  I was exhausted, feeling nauseous, and wanted a long, hot shower.  A.J. had posted guards around the nursing home, massacre site.  Roman had mobilized a seek-and-destroy mission for the missing victim-zombies.  They had found and destroyed two, and where hot on the trail of the others.   

The total count from the nursing home massacre was twenty-one dead; three were children under the age of fourteen.  The number of missing, wayward zombies was ten and consisted of residents from the nursing home, visitors to the home, a repair man, and two of Ted’s brothers. 

Mr. Hughes wife’s body was found.  Her body had been burned along with the bodies of the other victims.

I had started to feel weak.  Even though I was a mild allergy sufferer, I wasn’t sure if my congested state was due to being outdoors all day…or something.  I remembered that Roman had said that the symptoms of the disease started out as flu-like.  Is that what is happening to me?  I wasn’t sure and I had to be sure, very sure.

I felt maudlin – I guess that was to be expected.  I couldn’t eat and hadn’t eaten all day.  I drank a little bit of wine, sort of like a ‘last wish’ thing and also to help me relax.   I couldn’t eat so I didn’t try.  I only took Advil for my perpetual pain.  I wanted a clear head so that I could watch my symptoms and when it seemed like I was going to turn into a zombie thing, I would be ready.  By all accounts, I should be able to have enough time to ‘handle things’ before I lost control.

I had cleaned my service revolver and had placed it on the coffee table, safety lock on.  I had gathered up pictures of my loved ones and placed them on the coffee table: my brother Billy and his boyfriend Lance, Mrs. Yezzi – Avis’ mother, my deceased parents, and my deceased, beloved friend, Avis.  I had put away all pictures of Roman back when I found out that he was getting married.  I didn’t include a picture of him in my little, makeshift altar.

In an envelope, I had enclosed a copy of my will and a handwritten letter to my brother with pertinent banking information and instructions regarding Avis’ mother, Mrs. Yezzi.  I asked Billy to step in and continue the care and financial support of her, which I had been doing for almost a year.  I designated that part of my life insurance should be used for her.  I ended the letter telling him how much pride and love I had for him.  I wrote Billy’s name on the outside of the envelope and placed it on the coffee. 

I turned on the television, curled up on the couch with a blanket, and started my personal death watch.   I did the one thing I shouldn’t have done, I fell asleep.

I woke up with a jerk.  I knew I had been having a nightmare, but the instant that I awoke, I couldn’t remember anything.  I felt odd.  I felt very hot and was sweating.  I was breathing fast, as if I had been running a marathon.  I felt weak.  My hands were shaking.

It’s starting…Oh God…give me the strength…

I sat up straight on the couch, surveyed the pictures of my loved ones and then looked for my revolver.  It wasn’t on the coffee table.  I swear – where…I know I left it here.

“Looking for something?”

I was so startled by the deep, masculine voice that I almost peed myself.  I stood up and whipped around to see Eric sitting on a table that was behind the couch, to the left of the front door.

“Eric?  You’ve got to go, now!”

Eric stared at me intently, then slowly reached into an inner pocket of his black leather motorcycle jacket and pulled out my gun.

“I found this on your coffee table, along with this.”  Eric held up my letter to my brother.  He walked over to the opposite end of the coffee table and threw the letter back down on the coffee table.  “You don’t even tell him why you’re doing this.”

“It’s not what you think.”  Actually, it is – this is awkward.  “Eric, you have to leave, now.”

Eric leisurely walked over to the front door, leaned against it, and stared out into the dark.  When he finally spoke, his face showed no emotion and his voice was clear and strong at the start, but then became quieter as he went along.  “I doubted…At first, I didn’t think you were ready for this job, but you proved me wrong…or so I thought…I’ve seen your medical records – you were diagnosed with PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder and obviously…you are still struggling with the war…and maybe still struggling with your father’s suicide…I know about that…I do understand what you are going through – all of it.  I have been through many, many wars…but when someone takes their own life, the survivor suffers too.  This I know.”

“Eric – I’m infected!  There was an incident this morning, actually yesterday – whatever.  People were infected and they attacked us and I found a piece of infected bone in my mouth – well the corner of my mouth – and there was blood.  I’m not feeling well.  I think…it’s happening.  You have to go now, before it’s too late.”

The shocked look on Eric’s face was comical.  He blurred over to me and grabbed my face.  He quickly examined my eyes and mouth, and then smelled my nose, mouth, and neck.  He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, he gently grabbed my shoulders, looked intently into my eyes, and said, “You’re an idiot.”

“What?  Come on Eric-”

“You’re not infected.”

“I have the symptoms!  I woke up sweating, which means I’m reacting to a fever!  I’m weak.  I have other flu-like symptoms-”

“You’re sweating because you’re wearing thick clothing and were rolled up in a blanket; your medical records say you suffer from allergies in the Fall – which is why you have other symptoms similar to the flu.  Oh, and you’re weak because your blood sugar is low – when did you last eat?”

I grabbed the front of his jacket and spoke loudly, enunciating each word clearly, “There was a piece of bone in the corner of my mouth-”

“Did you swallow?”

“No – no, I didn’t, I…I..uh…I don’t think I ever swallowed.”

“You never swallowed?  Not even if you loved him?”  He tried to keep a straight face, but a mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. 

“What?...You-you jackass!  You are an insensitive…narcissistic jerk!  I almost off myself for the good of mankind and you turn it into a fellatio joke.   You are such…this is serious-”

Eric abruptly pulled me into a kiss.  His lips and tongue quickly captured mine.  Then, he slowed down and his kiss became deep, primal and sensual.  He enticed me; teased me until I responded.  Just as I was losing all coherent thoughts, he ripped his mouth away and glared at me. “See, if you were infected, I would never have done that.”  Eric rudely nudged me away from him and then plopped down on my couch, making himself comfortable.

He leaned forward and quickly glanced at all the pictures on my coffee table.  He laughed and flopped back against the back of the couch.  “I bet Roman would be very upset to learn that his picture wasn’t among the ‘chosen few’…This is so cliché - the brave heroine-martyr blasts her brains out for the good of humanity.  Guess what, Jo – humanity doesn’t care what happens to you.”   

I slowly sunk onto the couch and grabbed an accent pillow and used it to hide my face.  My emotions were jumbled and my brain was still processing the last five minutes of Eric’s visit.  The day and all of its horrific events crashed down on me. 

Shit – no, no, don’t!  Suppressed feelings bubbled up like lava, and finally - my emotional volcano exploded.  Hot tears poured down my face.  I squeezed the pillow and shoved my face deeper into its softness.  I struggled to smother my audible sobs.   Stop, stop, stop!  Please!     

I felt Eric pull away the pillow.  I quickly covered my hands over my face and said, “Don’t look at me…I need a minute.”

He pushed the pillow back into my face.  I heard him grunt in disgust.  “I can’t believe you’re crying.  Stop it…it’s…it’s annoying.”  He dramatically and loudly moaned, “Okay, okay!  I’ll kiss you again, but you need to wipe all of that mess off of your face-”

I stopped his inane insults by throwing the pillow – hard – at his face.   I heard a ‘thunk’ and knew that the large, decorative button sown on the center of the pillow had connected with his nose – I bet that hurt.  I smiled with satisfaction as I watched him rub his nose.  I sweetly purred, “Now I feel better.”  He glared at me.

“You are so unappreciative!  I go out of my way to stop by and…”  I ignored Eric’s bitching, and as he rambled on, I got up and walked out of the room, my destination was the bathroom.  Once there, I washed my face and took some time to calm myself.  When I was ready, I returned to the living room and rejoined him on the couch.

He was holding my favorite picture of my parents and was pensively looking at it.  He very gently placed it back on the coffee table.

We shared a moment of comfortable silence.  I was the first one to break the peace, “So, you’ve been doing research on my background and you’ve seen my private, military, medical records.”  I really didn’t expect a response from him and I didn’t get one.  So, I changed the subject, ”We have ten missing victims-”

“I know.  The police aren’t very learned in the fine art of ‘code talk.’  I heard a lot about the situation from listening to the radio communiqués.  So, you’re calling them zombies?”  I nodded my head in response to his question.

Eric slid over on the couch until he was sitting next to me.  He gently took my face in his hands.  His eyes had a glow to them as they bore into mine.  He slowly spoke to me, “You will never do that again.  Ever.   Do you understand?  Tell me you will never try to take your life again.”  With true conviction, I swore an oath to Eric that I would never do that again.  I was very pleased that he seemed pleased.  I don’t know why I felt so compelled to please him at that moment.

He gently kissed my nose, each cheek, and then my mouth.  His mouth was so incredible – it was created for kissing.  He started with a slow assault on my mouth, and then brought his hands into play.  His mouth tempted and tantalized, and his hands caressed and stoked my passion.  Eventually, it became difficult to tell who was the true aggressor.

I needed a sanity break.  I struggled to emotionally - and physically - pull myself out of Eric’s embrace.  “Wait…wait just a sec…”

I knew where this was going – and that was just fine with me.  I wanted to be with Eric.  Dammit, I deserve this!  This day…this week – hell, this whole fucking job!  I’ve been through Hell and back and I don’t need to make any excuses or apologies - and I will not have any regrets.  Life is too very, very short.

I looked at Eric and truly enjoyed the view.  He had perfect Nordic features and truly was more handsome than most professional, male models.  But, maybe he doesn’t want to be here.  I don’t want a  favor…actually, I’ll take it, but I rather it be more than that. “I don’t want to start something that we can’t finish.  So, if you need to leave…maybe you should go.  I mean - do you have to be somewhere now or in an hour…or do you just want to leave?”  Eric smiled smugly and shook his head ‘no.’

“You don’t have a gun-toting girlfriend lurking around, do you?”  He frowned but chuckled, then shook his head ‘no,’ again.

I chewed on my bottom lip and felt an uncomfortable shyness.  Most people would be upset at my following request, “Would you mind turning off your phone?” 

He scowled back at me.  I clamped my lips tightly together, crossed my arms over my chest, and gazed off into the distance.  I guess you could say that I was sulking.  I snuck a peak at Eric and caught him staring at me.  His eyes were so intense.

With a dramatic flourish, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.  He held it up like a torch and flipped it open with his thumb and turned it off.  He placed it back in his coat pocket.  I stood up, walked over to my phone base and turned the phone’s ring to mute.  I then walked to my bedroom without looking back at him. 

I could feel him behind me.  I felt his arms encircle me and pull me back against his chest.  He licked and then kissed my neck.  He moved his mouth to my ear and nibbled on it, sending tingling thrills down my spine.  I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. 

His hands slowly slid under my sweat shirt and he caressed my stomach before moving higher.  He knew how to touch a woman on her breasts.  He was slow and gentle in some areas and firm in others.  He knew how to pinch the nipples softly, just enough to elicit pleasure but not cause pain.  He cupped my breasts and held them like they were precious jewels; then he slowly and gently massaged the muscles above and between them.  He never squeezed painfully, or crudely grab, pull or twisted.  He made love to them with his hands.

He slowly inched my shirt up and removed it in one long, sensual caress.  Next, he made me giggle when he shucked down my pants and underwear to my ankles.  Then, he surprised me by lifting me up and sitting me on my dresser. He completed his self-appointed task of removing all of my clothes, by whipping my pants and underwear off of my ankles.

He leaned in and gave me a tender, lingering kiss.  He pulled away from me and just stood there, looking at me.  I wondered what he was thinking.  He seemed so big and just towered over me.  I became acutely aware that I was completely naked and he was fully dressed.  I felt very vulnerable and fought off the desire to curl up and cover myself.

His eyes were a mysterious, deep sapphire blue.  He came close to me again, and placed his hands on my thighs.  He slowly stroked them and I shuddered with pleasure.  He ran his hands over my knees and down the inside of my calves, to my feet.  He took each foot and massaged it, smiling at me when I moaned with true pleasure.  His hands moved again, back up and around my calves.

I flinched, not because he hurt me, but because he was touching my scars and I was embarrassed by them.

He whispered, “What’s wrong?”

I avoided his eyes, “I have some…pretty ugly scars that may upset you, so…you probably shouldn’t-”

“I’ve seen your scars.  They are badges of honor, you should be proud of them.  They symbolize the obstacles that you surmounted…a victory over the impossible.”  To emphasize his words of respect and praise, he licked and kissed my scars.  I couldn’t completely relax as he paid homage to my scars, but I was so grateful for his effort and his kindness. 

This special moment between us moved me to tears – which didn’t make me happy.  I hate to cry.  Hate it.   I had to bite my lower lip to fight them off.  Dammit – stop it!

He continued to kiss my leg, slowly coming up the leg.  He stopped at mid thigh.

He stood up, cocked his head, and gave me a sly, sexy smile.  He slowly removed his jacket and laid it on a corner chair.  He was wearing his signature outfit, a black wife beater tank top and black jeans.  Without any fanfare, he pulled off his tank and threw it on the chair. 

I knew he heard me inhale quickly.  I couldn’t help it.  He was so beautiful, - no, more than that – magnificent!  His chest was a huge canvas of creamy white skin stretched over well-defined, hard muscles.  His shoulders were so broad; his arms were knotted with muscles.

His sexy smile became a smirk.  He slowly unbuckled his belt, and then unsnapped and unzipped his jeans.  His pushed his two hands inside the front of his jeans…and then slowly pushed the entrance open.  He wasn’t wearing underwear.  His manhood appeared – in all of its stiff, hard glory. 

Whoa there buck – that’s very…impressive.  Do you have a license for that thing?

I know he was watching me - watch him.  He continued his little strip tease and pushed his pants down, slowly, inch by inch until they reached his ankles.  I watched half of the muscles in his body ripple when he completely removed them and threw them on the chair.

He swaggered over to me and caught me up in a passionate kiss.  Our hands joined in and we were grabbing and caressing each other’s bodies. 

He pulled away, leaving me gasping for breath.  In confusion, I watched him get down on his knees, facing me.  His head was still almost level with mine.  Damn, he’s tall!

He picked my legs up and draped them over his shoulders.  Then, he kissed and licked the inside of my right knee.  He looked at me, asking for permission to continue.  I don’t know why, but I responded with a very old, coquettish gesture - I actually batted my eyes at him, twice.  He silently laughed and then lowered his head between my legs. 

He was a master.  No one has EVER been that good!  He used his tongue in many varied ways.  He flicked it, rubbed it, poked it…I thought I was going to lose my mind.  He brought his right index finger into the game and used it to penetrate, seek out and then caress that all important bud that makes a woman curl up her toes.  In no time, I was begging him to stop before I came…he kept going…

Yes!  Yes!  You are my hero! 

I luxuriated in the purple haze of a spectacular orgasm.  I heard him snicker with pride as he surveyed his handiwork.  I don’t think it was one of my finest moments; I was slumped over to the side and smiling like the village idiot.  He gathered me into his arms and carried me over to my bed, laid me down, and then joined me.  I wanted to reciprocate the joy of oral sex.  I reached out and gently took hold of him.  He was leaking and I used the fluid as a lubricant while I stroked him. 

I started to scoot down, so that I could please him, but he grabbed and stopped me.  He slowly pulled me back up into my original position, and I could feel his deep, baritone voice rumble in his chest when he spoke to me. “I don’t want that, I want you.  I want to be inside of you.”  His words took my breath away.  My stomach did flip-flops, I shivered from anticipation.  He made me feel so special, wanted, and desired.

However, I almost ruined the whole mood when I remembered the main point of my teenage sex education classes.  Out of the blue, I squawked – “Protection!”

He responded, in between while licking and nibbling on my lips, “Vampires don’t carry venereal diseases.  They can’t survive in our bodies.  I’m quite safe.  Pregnancy won’t be an issue, either.”  I relaxed and allowed myself to be engulfed by the passion of our coupling. 

 We devoured each other with our mouths.  As we kissed and caressed, he slowly arranged himself over me.  He was very careful to not place his full weight on me.  Because his manhood was very large, and I hadn’t been with a man in quite some time, it took awhile for all the pieces to properly fit.  I quietly rejoiced that he was so patient and gentle.  Eventually, we found our own sensual, erotic mating rhythm.

We found that rhythm three more times that night.  I couldn’t believe it.  We beat all of my standing records.  I think he could have kept going – I know he could have, but I was too exhausted from a day of fighting zombies and almost committing suicide.  What a day…

After he left, it took a while for me to unwind. 

I hereby do validate the rumor that sex with a vampire is incredible.  Or, maybe it was Eric that was incredible – he truly exceeded all of my expectations and fantasies.  Oddly – or not – he never requested blood and I never offered it.  Was I supposed to?  Is that proper sex etiquette with a vampire, that you offer them blood?  Huh…

At times like this, I wish I could talk with Avis.  If she was alive, I would call her and we would have one of our secret, giggly-girl-talks.  I would brag about how wonderful it had been and share one or two exquisite moments. She would listen and then she would brag and share her experiences.  With Avis, I had someone I could share my thoughts and feelings with, who wouldn’t judge or condemn me, and who would keep my confidences.  We gave each other acceptance, support, and love – we made each other feel like we belonged and were a part of this world.  It was something I never had before…and may never have again.  God, I miss her.

I wanted to enjoy this golden bubble of post-coital happiness for as long as possible. Because I knew the real world was just outside my front door, and it was hostile, violent, and filled with sorrow…and waiting