Engineer Benson - 7. Chapter 7 - July 21, 1993

July 21, 1993 Wednesday, 10 AM
So this is why you're acting so off. No, man. Just no. We're talking about this right now.

July 21, 1993 Wednesday, 120 PM
Well, that was a fun way to be told I'm wrong. I'll back up to this morning, though.

Mark and I got up and got to work pretty much immediately - taking advantage of the early light and great weather. I got another three panels on the roof, bringing us up to fourteen, while he toiled away on the fence. About an hour after we started, from my position on the roof, I saw a couple of zombies in the woods down an old logging road easily visible from my elevated position. I told Mark to quiet down. Since they were pretty far away, they didn't hear us and crossed the road and headed toward town.

We kept working. A few hours in, Mark went inside to get a drink. That's when he read my entry. I guess he'd already noticed that I was acting weird. I mean, I thought my best friend had let me rape him, so yeah, I was feeling pretty awful.

He came outside with a couple of sandwiches and a big glass of water.

"Hey." He squinted up at me with his hands full. "Come down. Let's have breakfast and rehydrate."

I felt like I was starving, so I joined him at the picnic table near the firepit in the front yard.

"Thanks." My mouth watered as I raised the egg sandwich.

"I wanted it to happen." He stared with incredible intensity in his eyes. "I didn't do anything I didn't want to do - I wanted it to happen."

I stopped with my food halfway to my mouth. I knew exactly what he meant. I guess … I left the journal out right where he could find it on purpose. I hadn't actively thought about it, but I knew he'd find and read it. I knew it'd save me from having to tell him how I felt.

To buy some time, I nodded and took a bite.

We both ate, silent now. Thinking back, I had to admit to myself that he'd seemed pretty into everything. I mean, I gave him multiple chances to back out. He'd have stopped it if he didn't want it. I tentatively raised my eyes to his.

He stared back. He'd finished his sandwich, and his broad, tanned hands lay relaxed on the table in the sun. Those eyes. God, I want to think he's mine, but I don't understand how that could even be possible. Even if we're the last two people in the world, how could that be possible?

"I wanted it," he repeated and leaned forward on his elbows. "Do you hear me?"

Swallowing my last bite, I washed it down with the shared glass of water sitting on the table between us.

"Yes." I nodded, trying to accept what he'd said. "I hear you."

Mark worked his jaw. Those eyes were still locked on mine, and he shook his head once. "Fine." He stood.

"Wait." I rose along with him. "I … it's just hard." I chuckled nervously, my hands opening and closing. "I keep thinking I should have waited until you were not so—"

"Sad?" Mark finished the sentence for me.

"Yeah. And … vulnerable."

After a few beats, Mark stepped around the table. I'd crossed my arms over my chest and dropped my eyes. Now my gaze rested on his boots.

"Hey. Look at me."

I sighed and did. His expression softened until a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "That you'd worry about it tells me I can trust you." He stepped close and put his hands on my shoulders. "I trust you." He shook me gently. "You should too."

Before I could reply, he leaned in. His warm hands slid up to my neck and held me in place as we kissed.

He makes me melt. With Toffson, it was mechanical. You know? I could kind of justify it. We were just two guys using each other for release. But Mark is different. He's different, and it's frightening and awesome all at once.

Our bodies had closed the gap, and we stood pressed into one another while we kissed. Mark finally pulled back. He looked carefully over my face.

"What?" I smiled at him.

He frowned a little, then shook his head. "No. It's nothing." He wet his lips and pulled on my hand. "Come on. Let's take a little break."

Letting him lead me into the house, he towed me to the bedroom.

"I want this." He unbuttoned my pants. "I want you."

Before long, we lay together on the bed. This time, he held my arms above my head, pinned to the sheet beneath. He nibbled on the sensitive skin of my neck, eliciting chills that chased over my whole body.

I don't know what got into me, but I shifted my hips until I'd wrapped my legs loosely around his waist. His erection felt both inviting and terrifying against my ass. He continued holding my arms, but now he gazed at me. His expression asked the question.

I nodded. "Just … be careful. I've never …" I swallowed.

He smiled, gentle and patient. "Yeah. I hadn't either." He sat up and took our lotion in hand. "We'll go nice and slow."

Being on the other end lent me some experience on how it should go, at least. So after a minor reposition, I arched my back. "Ah, yeah. Right there."

Instead of pushing, Mark leaned down and kissed me.

I could kiss that man for days. Luckily, he's not in a hurry. The way he'd pressed against me and how I was positioned did something. I went from anxious about the act to eager. I still don't get it, but I really wanted him to do it.

Slowly, he did. I couldn't help but groan when he entered me. It felt far better than I would have thought possible, and I lay there staring up in abject wonder at him.

"You okay?" His smile remained.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Bending again, we kissed, and he sank bit by bit into my body, while my dick oozed onto my belly. His hips began to move, slow and sensual. Then he stopped.

"Oh." He breathed against my cheek and held himself still. "Wow, this is … ah. This won't take long."

"Heh." I grinned up at him. "Good. Same for me."

Resuming, he took me in hand. Lubed with my precome, he stroked me. We both began to shake, and his tempo increased.

"I'm coming," he whispered in a husky voice.

"Ah!" My spine arched, and he drove himself deep inside me. I shot onto my throat, and Mark shuddered as he orgasmed.

That sensation … him getting off inside me. That was so erotic and wild. I can't get it out of my head, and I want him to do it again. I want anything I can get with him.

We collapsed together and lay there for a while. Mark lightly caressed me as we lay beside one another, and I almost drifted to sleep.

"We should get up," Mark said. "We've got too much to do to lay around"

"Mmmm. I know." I yawned and sat up.

Mark did too and examined me. "You're all right?"

I laughed. "Uh, yeah!" I shook my head. "Jesus, that was crazy. It felt amazing."

Mark gave me a relieved smile. "Good. Because I will want to do this again." He chuckled. "Maybe I'll last longer next go around."

I rolled to my feet and looked over my shoulder at him. "Yeah? Well, maybe you should try again. Tonight."

With a smirk, I left to visit the bathroom.

I've gotta say - I'm really looking forward to tonight.

July 21, 1993 Wednesday, 345 PM

There's smoke. While we were finishing up the last section of fence, the wind shifted, and now we can smell smoke from the west. As far as I know, it's just woodland out that way. Maybe a cabin here or there. Anyway, we're going to prepare for a hike, then find out what's going on. I'll write more later.

July 21, 1993 Wednesday, 855 PM

So, we're not the only survivors after all. God … another life changed forever. Poor kid. I'll go through what we found below.

Mark and I followed our noses through the woods, moving as quietly as we were able. With signs of dragging feet, and places where bits of clothes had been torn, we knew we were not alone, so silence was important.

Oddly, though we found signs of them passing, we didn't see any zombies. That'd change.

We walked for maybe an hour, then Mark held up his hand to stop. Hunkering down behind a thicket, we peeked out at an odd little camp.

Someone had set rough posts in the ground, creating a fence of saplings tied together with honeysuckle vines and strips of bark. All the cuts were done with an axe or a hatchet, and the fence - though primitive, looked sturdy. Oddly, part of the fence was only about two feet high, and directly across from that lower part was a green tent backed up against a big oak tree.

To get to the tent, someone'd either have to climb the fence or step over the lower section. A fire ring made of stones held a smoking pile of ash, newly extinguished, and an upside-down bucket used as a makeshift table had a fileted fish and a number of bare, washed roots piled together - a little promise of a future meal for someone.

After carefully looking over the scene, Mark stepped forward from the thicket. I followed, and Mark pointed.

A deep hole lay on the other side of the lower section of the fence. It looked natural for the most part - like the remains of an uprooted tree - but someone had worked on it with a shovel to make the sides steeper. Glaringly obvious, it was no danger to us, but the sound of something moving around in the pit made us wary.

Moving silently, Mark sidled up to the edge and looked down. His eyes moved, taking in the sight below.

A gurgling hiss came from the bottom of the pit. I stepped beside him to get a look.

A zombie dressed in a scout uniform glared up, reaching impotently toward us. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. Gray had only just started spreading in his otherwise dark hair, and he looked completely free of injury. He'd died from the fever and risen again like so many others.

The rest of the pit had five unmoving teenage boy bodies inside. All except for what had to be the scoutmaster of this troop were feathered with crude, homemade arrows. All the dead boys had been partially eaten. Hopefully, that had happened well after death.

"Give me your axe." Mark held out his hand.

I moved to hand it over.

"Stop."

A young, wavering voice spoke from somewhere up the tree. We both caught sight of him at the same time. A boy in a scout uniform held a freshly-made bow in one hand and one of those rough arrows in the other. "Please, leave him alone."

Eyeing the kid, Mark gave the axe back to me. "Hey." He motioned at the zombie. "You've already handled the others, so you've got to know he won't get better. Why leave him like this?"

"Mark, hang on." I pushed ahead of him and smiled. "Hey. It's good to see another person. Are you okay?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded. "I'm not hurt. They didn't bite me."

"Well, that's good." I stepped around the pit and into his little camp. "You've done really well. I mean, REALLY well. Is there anybody else with you?"

He worked his jaw and shook his head. "I'm all that's left."

"You were on a camping trip with your troop." Mark joined me.

"Yes." The boy shifted. He'd wedged himself about a dozen feet up in a crotch of the oak, freeing his hands. He could easily fire the bow from his position. It was a smart place to be.

"I'm Wayne, and this is Mark." I put the axe down on the grass. "What's your name?"

Fidgeting with the bow, he still eyed us suspiciously. "Garrett." He had his father's dark hair and a wiry, lanky build.

"Garrett. Okay. Nice to meet you." The zombie in the pit tripped over one of the bodies and flailed around on the bottom of its prison. Garrett's expression shifted to a soul-crushing sadness.

"He … he's my dad." The young man looked at Mark. "That's why I didn't shoot him. He's my dad."

Mark sighed deeply. "Once I saw the uniforms and had a minute to think, I thought that might have been it. Okay. I get it." He motioned. "Come on down. We're not going to hurt you. We've got a place, the farm on the outskirts. You can come with us if you like."

"There are others there?" He wet his lips. "I've been out here for a week, but you're the first people I've seen."

"It's just us for now," I replied. "But finding you gives me hope we'll find others."

After a long moment, he nodded. "Okay." He straightened. "I'll come if we can try to find my mom and sister. We live in town; it's not far.

I looked at Mark. After considering, he spoke. "Okay. Deal. We've got to go into town tomorrow anyway. When we do, we'll look for them."

For the first time, Garrett's face relaxed with relief. "Okay. I'm coming down."

He slung the bow over a shoulder and dropped a knotted rope that had been tied to a thick limb. He descended. Once on the ground, he grabbed his fish and roots.

We helped him gather his things. He had the tent, a sleeping bag, a homemade alcohol stove, an old dented pot, and more. He had gathered everything usable from his troop's supplies, and carefully rationed the use of anything with a limited supply. This kid is a real survivalist and survivor.

As we shouldered his things and went to leave for the farm, Mark took the axe from my back. "You guys go ahead." He looked Garrett in the eye. "I'm going to take care of your dad because we can't leave him like that. You know we can't."

Garrett swallowed. Though he tried to be strong, tears gathered in his eyes. He nodded once, then turned. I fell into step beside him. A few strides into the journey, I put my arm around his shoulders.

Mark joined us a few minutes later and quietly put the cleaned axe back into place over my shoulder. Then he took point and led us home.

We'd cleaned up the second bedroom days ago. Garrett settled in, unpacking his few clothes and placing his things in the room. Dinner consisted of a nice fish stew, thanks to his catch, the tubers he'd foraged, and a can of tomatoes in the pantry. After dinner, he went into his bedroom. I checked on him a bit later. He lay in a ball under the blanket on the bed. He'd carefully draped his dirty uniform on the foot of the bed, and I quietly gathered it up and started a load of laundry to get all his clothes washed. I left some clean ones for him. Though they'd be too big, they'd work until his stuff was ready.

Wow. Another person. We've found another person who isn't doomed to die from this thing. Now, we just have to keep ourselves and him alive.

Though, I wonder what he thinks about us. I mean … he knows this place only has two beds. Maybe he's too exhausted to care right now, but I have a feeling there will be questions soon.

Regardless, we'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, we've got bigger issues. Though I'm glad the fence is done. And we've now got sixteen panels on the roof. I've only got room for four more up there, then I'll have to figure out where to put the others.

We're in a position where we can help people. We can protect them here. But, every person we add means more pressure on our food supplies and on our available space. That means every person will have to contribute. Mark and I talked about this, and we agree it's the only way it can possibly work. We also need to weed Bob's garden. I can see corn growing, and there are probably some tomatoes or something too, but we need to get busy caring for it. While Mark and I go to town, maybe Garrett can take that on. He's a capable kid, and I think he needs something to do - something to occupy his time. Plus, I have a feeling the garden will turn out to be important.

Okay. We're headed to bed. Tomorrow, we go to town for supplies, gas, and, hopefully, what's left of Garrett's family.

Till next time.