Dark Paradise: The Apocalypse (Sons of Destruction MC Book 1) Read online

  As we are going down the slide a third time Priscilla goes pale. “Ash, did you see that?”

  “What?” I question, as I stand up and dust the back of my jeans off.

  “I swear I saw a kid by the corndog booth.”

  “Well. We need to go there anyway to check for supplies.”

  She nods appearing uneasy. I know she gets triggered by turned children. I don’t like putting them down any more than she does, but they’re dead and it is either us or them. I’ll choose us every single time.

  Chapter 3

  —Priscilla

  Taking a deep breath, I follow Asher as he moves toward the food court. I know we are probably going to encounter an infected child and my heart is hammering in my chest. My first encounter with a turned child was back at the camp we were in at the airport, right before the whole place became overran. The woman in the bed next to mine had a three-year-old little boy. He had the biggest brown eyes and dimples. I should have known something was wrong. He wasn’t up and playing with his truck like he usually was.

  His Mom, Claire, had said he didn’t sleep well the night before. Said he was restless. He appeared a little flushed, but she assured me it was nothing. I ignored the signs. In hindsight I think part of me knew he was going to turn but he was so adorable and sweet I couldn’t imagine him becoming one of those things. A monster. A heartless killer. But he did. After lights out I awoke to the sound of his mother screaming when he attacked her. He tore out her throat and I watched, frozen in horror until one of the guards shot him between the eyes. Chaos ensued, and Asher came for me, stealing me away from the terrible nightmare I was living in. He had saved me yet again.

  Asher comes to a halt in front of me. I peer around him to see what has his attention. Just where I had spotted her at from the slide, there’s a little girl with her back to us. Red pigtails, pink dress, and white sneakers. There’s a red balloon tied to her wrist. From the back she appears normal but then her head tilts up and to the side as if she smells us. Asher pulls his silenced Desert Eagle out and is ready to shoot.

  The child turns and lets out a high pitch scream, bearing her blood-stained teeth at us. I don’t know what Asher is waiting for. I close my eyes and wait for him to do the deed. The thing that bothers me most. Killing an undead child. He takes my hand and wraps it around the gun. “You need to do this. There could come a time that I won’t be around to do it for you.”

  Deep down I know that he’s right but that doesn’t make it any easier. My hand shakes as I curl a finger around the trigger. I inhale and exhale three times, steadying my aim.

  “Don’t hesitate, Prissy, just point and shoot,” Asher’s voice is smooth and soothing in my ear.

  “I can do this,” I whisper the words under my breath and when the child with dark circles appearing like bruises around her eyes lunges, I don’t stop to think, I just shoot. I miss the first time, popping her balloon instead. She sprints forward, and I remind myself she’s not alive and if I don’t kill her, it’ll be me or Asher joining her in the army of zombies.

  This time, I steady my aim, and I hit my target. “I give you peace.” A lone tear trickles down my cheek as she goes down. Asher takes his weapon back and we move quietly but efficiently, stuffing any supplies that we can gather into his backpack. Bottled water, chips, and my cotton candy. Only now I’m not so sure I will be able to enjoy it.

  —Asher

  We spent too much time at the amusement park. Priscilla insisted on giving the girl with the red balloon a proper burial. I seem to have a difficult time in telling her the word no. Even as kids she could always get me to do whatever she wanted. I’ll never forget the time she convinced me to steal my old man’s motorcycle. I was fifteen and she was thirteen. Seems like a lifetime ago. Hopper beat my ass and Priscilla didn’t get in trouble, because she was the princess. I thought one day I would make her my queen and we’d someday have a life of our own in Paradise. Maybe start a family.

  I know she’s feeling shitty about the kid and it will be dark soon. We need to find somewhere to bed down for the night. I avoid hotels and motels, they are always crawling with hordes. Priscilla and I do good just the two of us laying low at night and only traveling by day. We run into others occasionally but are wary of strangers. You never know when someone might turn into a zombie or decide you would better off to them dead. We’ve been held at gunpoint for a roll of toilet paper before. I’m not taking any chances.

  I roll up to a subdivision next to a wooded area, so I can hide my bike while still leaving it accessible for a quick getaway if needed. We need to move quickly, securing a house before the sun goes down. The first three doors have red X’s spray-painted on them meaning keep the fuck out. There are three undead standing aimlessly at the end of the block but thankfully they haven’t noticed us. We slink down the side of the house next to the private fence. Reaching the backyard of the two-story home, I think this will be the one. The privacy fence continues to the other side of the house, keeping the yard completely closed off from the zombies.

  We creep onto the back porch, peering through the windows hoping there is no one inside.

  I don’t hear or see any movement. I try the backdoor handle, praying it is unlocked. The slightest sound can attract a horde. Damn. It’s locked. Priscilla tries the window and to our luck it opens. I hold it up allowing her to crawl through first, so she can unlock the door for me.

  Once inside I don’t lock the door automatically, we might be running back out if something or someone is in here. The downstairs is clear. It looks like any other family home. Mantle lined with photo frames full of smiling faces and achievements. First birthday, first day of school, graduation. The family that lived here captured every big moment. I signal to Priscilla that I am going to check the upstairs. We could both use a good night’s sleep in a bed. Last night we slept on the ground in the woods. It was hard, damp, and cold. I didn’t do much sleeping, more like closing my eyes while listening for zombies or other people. I am looking forward to laying my head somewhere soft. There’s a body in the master bedroom, self-inflicted gunshot wound clear through the temple. I take the pistol and the box of ammo then close the door. There are two other bedrooms, but Priscilla and I will sleep in shifts in the same room. We never separate for long. We’re like magnets. If she moves so do I.

  Chapter 4

  —Priscilla

  I’m taking the first shift, watching out for Asher while he sleeps. He does all the driving, so it is only fair he gets to sleep first. I know he is exhausted. Especially after digging a grave. I just couldn’t leave her there like that. That little girl at the amusement park. She was someone’s daughter. If it were me, I know my father would want to see me buried and not just left wherever I perished.

  I claimed the upstairs bathroom and Asher took the one downstairs. There isn’t hot water but there is water so that’s something. I wash my face and do my best to scrub the rest of my body and brush my teeth. I return to the bedroom and look for something to sleep in from my pack.

  Before we settled into this bedroom, we scavenged the house for medical supplies and painkillers. The kitchen cabinets were barren of food, so we will have to look elsewhere tomorrow. Though we did find a bottle of whiskey. It was hidden in a drawer. Asher scored some clean t-shirts but there was nothing for me.

  I’d give just about anything for a hot bath right now. Asher pulls his shirt up, lifting the gray fitted tee over his head from the back in one fluent movement. The Sons of Destruction MC insignia is inked on his back. My fingers itch to trace the smooth lines of the grim reaper holding a scythe. As if he can feel me staring, he shoots me a wink over his shoulder as he kicks off his boots and I look away as he drops his dusty jeans to the floor. Asher has always just been Ash to me, the boy I grew up with, but nothing about him now is boyish. He is all grown up and all man standing before me in nothing but his boxer briefs. Muscled and tattooed. Dare I say sexy with his windblown dark hair and matching beard. Grey e
yes that appear to be almost as silver as the moon.

  His muscles flex as he bends to pull the blankets back on the bed. I watch with heat blazing in my belly as he crawls into bed. Laying back on the pillow with his arms crossed beneath his head he says, “Aren’t you going to get comfortable?” The smirk stretching across his face is playful yet dangerous. There are so many hidden meanings behind his smile. I know he has always carried a torch for me.

  I’ve just never allowed myself to go there before. I always knew I was leaving Paradise for something bigger and better and he was a lifer. The club life is in his blood. But things are different now. The world is crashing and burning around us and every single time that I fall asleep I don’t know if it is for the last. I know Asher is attracted to me and he wouldn’t turn me away if I got into bed with him, but I’m scared that it will change things between us. Our dynamic works. I don’t want to screw up our friendship by sleeping with him. And if I cross that line, I know there is no going back.

  —Asher

  I settle into the worn bed as Prissy squishes her body into an arm chair by the window keeping watch. I knew she wouldn’t bite but I had to cast the line. I don’t think I will ever not want her. I’ve tried like hell to move on and let those feelings go, but here we are. Just the two of us. Well there is the dead guy down the hall but I’m sure he doesn’t mind us taking up residence in his home for the night. It’s the end of the world and all we have is each other and the hope of reaching Paradise before we succumb to the virus. I close my eyes hoping for four hours of peaceful sleep. No matter how hard I try though I can’t get comfortable. I can feel Priscilla’s eyes on me. “I can’t sleep with you staring at me,” I grumble, turning to my side.

  She doesn’t say anything in response. I can see her silhouette cast in the moon’s light. Her shadow moves across the window and the other side of the bed dips under her weight. She scoots close to me, pushing her ass into my crotch. She grabs my hand and I wrap my arm around her.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Mhmm,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “It’s quiet out there. I don’t think we will have any trouble tonight.”

  Having her so close…in my arms is pure torture. I thought riding everyday with her tits smashed into my back was hard enough, but it hasn’t even been two minutes and I am in agony. The urge to touch her. To kiss her is becoming unbearable. Sure we have slept next to each other every night since the camp we were in fell but never like this. Never quite so intimate. My cock hardens as she wiggles against me, getting comfortable.

  “You done?” I chuckle.

  “Sorry.”

  “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “What’s that?” Her voice comes out in a guilty squeak.

  “Driving me fucking crazy.”

  She moves our joined hands underneath her shirt, placing my hand on her bare breast. I palm the full C cup, rubbing my thumb over her nipple. My lips meet her neck, peppering kisses up and along her jaw until our mouths make contact. I was the first boy to kiss her and want to be the last man given the privilege. We shared our first kiss when I was twelve and she was ten. I think I knew even back then that I loved her. I only wished she felt the same. I know tonight doesn’t have a damn thing to do with love. She needs the human contact and I simply need her. Her lips part, her minty breath washing over me as I delve my tongue inside her mouth. Our tongues sweep against each other, soft and sweet full of unspoken desires.

  Her nipple hardens under my touch and she rolls to her back. Lifting her shirt, I break our kiss and spend some time exploring her torso with my mouth. Tasting every inch, touching every curve. I shove my hand down her shorts and into her panties, rubbing my finger over her clit.

  Sugary and sweet like the cotton candy she was seeking earlier in the day, her body melts into my touch. Her hips arch seeking more. Undoing her button and zipper I ease her shorts down her thighs followed by her white cotton panties. There is something so sexy about her basic white bottoms. Having her beneath me feels like a dream. A dream I never want to end. I can’t help but worry in the back of mind that neither of us are watching for intruders…for zombies.

  Chapter 5

  —Priscilla

  Asher thrusts a finger inside me and the last of my will unravels. I surrender to his touch. I surrender to the feelings I have fought for so long. One, two, three, gentle strokes of his finger curling in a come here motion has me writhing for more. Then the banging and moaning noises start. At first, I think the sound is coming from us and I am hearing it like it is in stereo, but Asher pulls away, sliding out of bed, to peer out the window. He looks back at me with a grim expression. We’ve been found. Some people think zombies don’t make any sounds, but they hiss, scream, moan, and groan.

  I can hear them clearly. I move quickly to right my clothes as Asher hurries to get dressed. So much for giving into temptation and desire. We have to be prepared to run if they breech our safety barriers. After we secured the house, we moved all the heavy furniture in front of the doors and windows but that doesn’t mean they won’t break in. The longer we stay the more zombies we will attract.

  “Stay close,” Asher orders, lifting his backpack over his arm. I follow his lead. A knife in one hand, I hold the strap of his backpack with the other.

  We slowly descend the stairs and slip into the kitchen. The group of zombies haven’t penetrated the backyard.

  “We’re going to have to jump the fence. I’ll hoist you up. Be ready to run straight to where I parked my bike,” Asher whispers in my ear, his voice so low that I hardly hear him.

  I give him a quick nod. I don’t want to attract any attention by speaking. The slightest noise can get you killed. We learned that when our first camp was overrun. Asher wanted to double back for his precious motorcycle and while I was yelling at him that he was being crazy and reckless, my voice was attracting every zombie in the immediate area. Had Ash not been fast with his reflexes, we’d be dead

  We move as stealthily as possible to the far back right corner of the fence. Please don’t let there be any infected waiting on the other side for me. I slip my knife back inside my boot. Ash locks his fingers together and flattens his palms. I place one foot on his hands, and he springs me to the top of the fence. I grab hold and peer over to the other side. So far so good. Asher takes a run and go, grabbing the top of the fence with both hands. He drops down on the other side then holds his hands up to me. I scrape my belly on the pointy wooden top of the fence, but I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. I taste blood on my tongue and spit it out, hoping the scent doesn't draw them to us.

  “Go. Go. Go,” Asher commands in a loud growl from behind me. I look over my shoulder and wish I hadn’t. I don’t understand. Just minutes before I crawled into bed with him there wasn’t any undead in sight. There must be twenty of them giving us chase. I don’t stop for anything, hoping I am going in the right direction. Clouds have given cover to the moon and I can’t see a damn thing now.

  “This way,” Asher directs me, grabbing my hand. The chrome of his motorcycle comes into view and not a moment too soon. Tucking his pack in the saddlebags he doesn’t reach for mine. It will have to stay on my back for now. He hops on his ride, key in hand. I grab his gun from the waistband of his jeans firing at the runner coming for us. I hit one knee then the other but that is no deterrent. The monster drags itself forward with its arms becoming what we call a crawler.

  “Come on,” he calls out over the rumble of his motorcycle. I shove the gun in my other boot and climb on. Another reason I keep telling Asher we need a truck or car. His motorcycle is so damn loud it probably attracts those damn things from miles away. My arms go around his middle and we roar away from the horde. Burying my face in his shoulder, I inhale his scent. Dirt, sweat, cigarette smoke, and asphalt—simply Asher.

  —Asher

  I drive through the night, rolling on fumes and exhaustion. I’m thirsty and in need of sleep. My hands are numb and Prissy’
s not managing much better. Her hold on me is weak as we see the sign: SEEKING SALVATION 5 MILES AHEAD. I follow the red arrows spray-painted on the sides of buildings, navigating through wreckage, burn piles, and garbage. My tank is almost empty, and I fear we are going to have to abandon my girl and travel on foot. As we roll to a stop, I tell myself I can retrieve her later. Right now getting Priscilla to safety is more important. I know to some it’s just a motorcycle but to me she is much more than that. There’s an alleyway that looks promising. We dismount, and I push my bike into the alley hoping no one touches my property. I retrieve my backpack from the saddlebag. I stuff my cut inside my bag even though I don’t want to, but I don’t know how accepted we’d be if I kept it on. I take out a bottled water and give it to Priscilla first. Her needs come before mine. She drinks half then saves the rest for me.

  I grab some old boxes and debris to hide my bike the best I can. There doesn’t appear to be anyone around who’d care to steal it anyway. We walk four blocks and I hope I made the right decision in bringing her here.

  Those signs could have been leading us straight into a trap. They could have been the workings of a crazy person leading us on a wild goose chase. However, when we come up on a chain link fence with barbed wire around the top surrounding an old church with a giant sign that reads SEEKING SALVATION on it in the same red spray paint that we have been seeing, I know I did the right thing. There are guards armed with rifles posted at the gate. Looking to the top of the church there is a sniper on the roof where the bell is housed.

  One of the guards yells at us, “Stop where you are.” His weapon is trained on us and we both hold our hands up. Priscilla leans into me on the verge of collapse. “State your purpose.”