Determined To Live by C. M. Wright

version of a dinner bell.
    "Please!
Please turn around. Look at them coming. Please! Run. Hide !"
I whisper to them, terror filling me. And then something happens that
terrifies me even more.
    I
hear Jake laugh loudly as he stands on the safe side of the fence.
Laughing at these poor people who will soon be dead. The need to
throw up is strong, but as he climbs back inside, the sickness is
forgotten by his next words.
    "Well!
I wonder how many zombie assholes are inside this armory?" And in horror, I realize he's excited about it. "Yep! It's you and me cleaning house again." - And
just what is he expecting me to be able to do in my condition? Really? Good
lord! - "I missed that when I went to the Nebraska armory. Just wasn't
the same. I was pissed off the whole time. And then the first thing I
see when I get back is you and that asshole, Will , all
cuddled up nice and cozy on the porch swing!" He says with such
incredible anger and disgust.
    "I
can't believe you would marry a wimpy jackass like that. What were
you thinking, anyway?" I don't respond and he laughs. "Well,
it doesn't matter. We're together now. That's the only thing that matters. You will never refer to him as your
husband again. In fact, you will never speak his name. The only name
that will be on your lips, and in your mind, is mine. I am your husband now."
    Oh dear God.
    Jake pulls up to
the back building that I assume will have more Hummer's inside, just
as the others did. He gets out of the truck without hesitation and
rolls the large door on its track to the side. I see four zombies
turn and come toward Jake. As soon as each one gets close enough, he
shoots and they drop to the cement floor. Then I can hear his muffled
voice shouting at someone or something.
    I assume he's
trying to draw out more of the undead, so I'm a little shocked when I
see a live military man come down the stairs. He walks toward Jake,
his mouth moving, and I assume he's telling Jake what had happened to
his fellow soldiers. When he's about ten feet from Jake, my eyes
widen and I scream when Jake lifts his gun and kills the man. Before
his body even falls, Jake is on his way back to the truck.
    He slides into his
seat and I stare at him in shock. He looks over at me, turns back to
the windshield and rests his wrists on the top of the steering wheel.
Then he ducks his head and sighs.
    "Why do you do
this? Why don't you trust me?" he asks me in a pitiful voice.
    Seriously?
    "Jake! Why did
you kill that man? He was alive!" My voice raises steadily from
beginning to end.
    Mistake!
    His hand slapping
my already abused face comes out of nowhere. I feel like my eyes are
about to pop out and I squeeze them shut to hold them in. My arms are
still tied behind me, so I can't protect myself, and when his hand
again slams into my face, all I can do is turn away.
    His
voice screaming close to the back of my head makes me jerk away even
further in terror. "Stop making me do that! Don't you think if I
kill someone I have a good reason?" - Not
really, no! - "He'd been bit by one of those zombies. Would you have rather
I let him attack me? You ?
I will do everything I can to protect you, even if that means killing
someone who's infected even before they've turned."
    "If you would
really do anything to protect me, then prove it," I foolishly
challenge him.
    His eyes narrow and
his lip curls. "And exactly how do I do that?"
    "Well, for
starters, stop frikken hitting me! Don't you think I've had enough
head trauma?"
    Jake stares at me
intently, his eyes darkening dangerously. After what seems an
eternity of holding my breath, he says, "Alright. I won't hit
you again. You'll see. You'll see I love you more than anyone else
ever has."
    Not likely,
Freak Boy.
    He turns away from
me and drives the truck inside the garage, parking next to another
Hummer, one without blood, guts, body pieces, hair, and dents from
bullets in it. He gets out and comes over to my side and finally
unties me from the headrest. I'm