Collecting Wives In The Apocalypse

Bang It Out?

The glass windows of the café rattled again, and Kael could see the silhouettes outside pressing closer, their hands slapping the glass with wet, sticky sounds. The groaning chorus grew louder, like an animal tide building momentum.

"Kael, they’ll break through!" she cried.

"Then we don’t give them the chance," he snapped, shoulder-checking the back door open. It banged against the wall, the hinges shrieking.

Kael’s instincts screamed at him to move. He pulled Clara’s hand into his and scanned the wrecked café. The back door—they hadn’t checked it yet.

"This way," he barked.

They vaulted the counter, scattering broken mugs and powdered coffee beans across the floor. The back kitchen smelled like spoiled cream and mildew, the faint tang of copper still clinging to the walls where someone must have died earlier. Clara wrinkled her nose, but followed close, her axe clutched in a trembling grip.

The back door was bolted, but Kael slammed his shoulder into it. The wood splintered on the first hit, cracked on the second, then gave way on the third. They stumbled into a narrow alley filled with trash bags split open, the stench of rot and spoiled food mixing with the heavier iron stench of blood.

The moans followed them. Zombies clawed at the door almost immediately, banging against it.

Kael grabbed Clara’s hand tighter. "Run."

They sprinted down the alley, their shoes slapping puddles and trash. The night air was damp, thick with smoke from the city fires. Car alarms screamed somewhere distant, joined by the dull percussion of gunfire. Every corner of the city was breaking apart.

Clara clutched her axe tighter, her knuckles white. "Where do we even go?"

Kael scanned the street, eyes flicking from shadow to shadow. "Not back. Forward."

She frowned. "That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one I’ve got."

They burst into the street again, weaving past overturned cars and the shadows of other survivors darting away into the chaos.

Kael’s eyes were sharp, scanning, measuring, always calculating.

He noticed mothers dragging children but then abandoning them when they slowed them down, noticed a man pulling a sobbing woman by her hair toward a dark alley, noticed soldiers firing into a crowd where the infected and uninfected mixed.

The world wasn’t falling apart—it was already rubble.

Clara gasped beside him. "It’s… it’s madness."

"Welcome to freedom," Kael muttered darkly.

Clara shuddered. "That’s not freedom, Kael."

He didn’t argue. His eyes stayed forward, calculating. He could feel the infection survivors would notice him eventually—feel it like a weight pressing against his chest. He wasn’t just blending in. He was standing out, and he knew it.

They cut through a ruined marketplace. Tables overturned, rotten fruit mashed into the dirt. A single streetlight flickered above, stuttering weak light across the bloodstains.

A snarl came from their left. Clara jerked back as a half-torn zombie lunged from the shadows, jaw dangling by threads of muscle. She swung her axe clumsily, but it slipped from her sweat-slick hands.

"Kael!" she gasped.

Kael caught the creature mid-lunge, his fingers digging into its throat. He slammed it against a wall with enough force to crater the brick. The body slid lifeless to the ground, its skull shattered.

Clara stared at him, wide-eyed. "You’re not… normal anymore."

Kael didn’t answer. He just picked up her axe and shoved it back into her grip. "Hold on tighter next time."

She bit her lip, shame and gratitude mixing in her expression.

–––––––––––

As they ran, a lone infected stumbled into their path again, its jaw half missing, gurgling with hunger. Clara raised her axe, but her swing faltered halfway. Her eyes widened, and she froze instead of striking.

Kael’s stomach turned when he saw it—her pupils dilated, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled. She wasn’t recoiling from the zombie. She was… salivating.

"Clara?" Kael barked.

She shook her head violently, trembling as she lifted the axe again. But her lips quivered, her teeth bared like she was fighting something deeper than fear.

The infected lunged. Kael didn’t let her swing—he shoved her aside and drove his foot into the zombie’s chest, sending it sprawling. He brought the chair leg down hard, crushing its skull against the pavement. Bone and gore splattered across the asphalt.

Clara collapsed to her knees, breathing fast, almost panting.

Kael grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Talk to me. What the hell was that?"

Her voice cracked. "I—I don’t know. For a second… I wanted it. The smell. Its brain. I—" She gagged, pressing her hand to her mouth. "God, Kael, what’s happening to me?"

Panic twisted in his chest. He yanked her closer, hard enough that her chest bumped against him. He didn’t think—he just acted. His lips crashed against hers in a messy, desperate kiss.

Clara gasped, muffled against his mouth, before her body melted into his grip. His hand slid down her back, gripping the curve of her butt, squeezing firmly. Her moan vibrated against his lips, and then—just as quickly—the trembling stopped.

She stilled. Her eyes cleared. The hunger vanished.

When Kael pulled back, a wet string of spit clung between them. Clara’s face burned scarlet.

"Y-you… you grabbed my ass," she stammered.

"You were about to eat zombie brain," Kael shot back, his grin wicked. "I think I deserve a little leeway."

Her lips parted, but no protest came. Only her breath, ragged and quick.

Then her brows furrowed, thoughtful. "Maybe… maybe that’s it. The reason it almost happened. Because we only kissed before. Maybe the infection’s still lingering."

Kael frowned. "You’re saying kissing isn’t enough."

Her blush deepened, but she nodded. "We might have to… you know… go further. Like actually—"

He raised a brow. "Bang it out?"

She smacked his arm, flustered. "Don’t say it like that!"

Kael laughed. "What? You want me to dress it up all romantic? We’re in the middle of the end of the world, Clara. People are getting chewed in half out here, and you’re embarrassed about the word ‘bang’?"

Her cheeks puffed, but her gaze softened, and she bit her lip.

He sighed. "Alright. Let’s find somewhere better than an alley full of zombie juice. Motel down the road should do."

Her jaw dropped. "A… a motel?"

"You want a comfy bed or you want us rutting on broken glass like animals?"

Clara buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god, you make it sound so—"

"Efficient?" Kael smirked. "That’s the word I’d use."

Despite herself, she snorted. "You’re impossible."

"Survivalist," he corrected, tugging her hand. "Let’s move before your zombie cravings kick back in."

*****

Author’s Note:

Thank you so much for reading and being part of this journey!

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