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My Zombie Valentine	By : Zalika Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 1851 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Walking Dead." It belongs to Robert Kirkman. No profit gained from writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Genesis
- 2-Revelation
- 1
- 2
MY ZOMBIE VALENTINE

By: Darkinyron
Hey readers, thank you so much for the reviews! :) It means so much to me to hear from you! To those who have subscribed to this story but haven't commented, please review. It makes me happy to see that so many people have subscribed but I would really love to hear what you guys think. Reviews are what inspire and motivate us writers, so I'd really appreciate your feedback!
WARNING: Zombies have a severe lack of table manners when they get the munchies. So does Shane . . . but he doesn't do that kind of eating. ;)
Considering you are all fans of The Walking Dead, I doubt such descriptive things bother you.

~ CHAPTER 2 ~

REVELATION
THE IDEA OF ripping into a living creature's flesh with one's own teeth and nails, severing their thick connective tissues and feasting on their bleeding organs before their excruciating cries had the opportunity to cease was anything but appetising to the three sheriff's deputies as they made their way into Mike and Lynn Sommers' house, guns drawn and ready for battle. The zombies however, disagreed completely. Because that was the grotesque crime scene that the officers were faced with as they stepped over the littered shards of the sliding glass door and into the kitchen.
Staring up at the officers from the blood-saturated tile floor was the brainless body of Mike's mother, her deathly white face contorted and frozen into a permanent, silent scream. What was once her brain was now a soupy puddle of grey and black splat that reeked of the early stages of putrefaction. The silver Smith and Wesson revolver that she had obviously used to end her own suffering was still gripped in her right hand, which was stiff and sprayed with crusty brownish-red spatter. Slumped over her mutilated, mostly gutted abdomen was the heavily decayed corpse of one of the roofers whose company truck was parked outside. The colours that his hair and skin had been in life were ambiguous to the officers. A black t-shirt bearing the roofing company's logo clung to heavily decomposed skin that had taken on a deep greyish-blue tint. Half of his skull had gone missing, undoubtedly the result of a bullet that Mike's mother had sent through it prior to committing suicide. Though why she had waited to pull the trigger until her guts had been rearranged and eaten was a mystery. Trailing out of the roofer's clamped mouth was a segment of the woman's partially chewed small intestine, which looped around unnaturally over the tile and her skinless torso and clung to its original placement by a mere thread of desecrated tissue. Flies were beginning a feeding frenzy while the three deputies silently excused themselves in unison to vomit their own half-digested lunches into the grass.
Deputy Jason Crandall was once again on the radio, gagging his report of a Signal 56 in to dispatch. Once he had confirmation that detectives had been called for a crime scene investigation, he lead his co-workers back inside.
Carefully, the three cops stepped over pools of blood and flesh as they made their way deeper into the house. Guns drawn, they hoped to themselves that they wouldn't have to use them anymore. In the midst of clearing rooms, Deputy Shane Walsh came upon the scattered skeleton of the family chihuahua. He turned the bathroom light on and observed fresh impressions where someone's teeth had been picking meat off of the bones as if they were chicken wings. Even the poor dog's eyes had been plucked from its skull, which was in the sink and still moist from its own blood. Peering through the void eye sockets and into the cranium, Shane observed scratch marks, indicating that the zombie had eaten the dog's brain as dessert by scooping it into his mouth with his fingernails. Following a dry heave, Shane concluded that this had probably been Mike Sommers' final meal and made the decision not to tell his ex-girlfriend about his gruesome discovery until later.
These were Kat's friends? Shane thought to himself as he found part of the animal's lung and pulmonary artery next to the toilet. Eat your heart out, Hannibal.
"Lynn?" Deputy Katharine Burke called shakily. "Lynn, are you in here?"
There was no response. She crept into the family's living room and sighed sadly as her eyes fell upon the motionless form of Lynn Sommers, who was sprawled on the couch still dressed in scrubs, covered up with a bloodied navy blue afghan. Grey circles surrounded her eyes, giving her once round face a skeletal facade. An open Bible was resting on the nurse's lap and a pink highlighter was still loosely gripped in her hand. Her sweaty head had drooped to one side, mouth open and drooling as if she had simply dozed off while reading.
"Lynn?" Kat asked weakly, approaching cautiously. Her hands were shaking nervously as she held her revolver in front of her, sickened by the idea that she may have to shoot another ailing friend. She heard Shane and Jason enter the room behind her as they finished their search of the first floor.
All three police officers froze as the flaccid neck of Lynn Sommers lifted her head and held it up. The chubby woman opened her eyes and squinted at them, then began blinking rapidly as a clear wave of fear pervaded her when she realised through severe nearsightedness that three figures stood before her.
"Lynn!" Kat yipped, lurching forward to assist her sick friend.
"No!" the infected woman panicked. "N-no! Get away from me!" She raised herself onto her elbows and began a terrified attempt at backing up deeper into the squishy couch.
With a swift swipe of her arm, Katharine cleared piled up papers, medicine bottles, and other typical junk from the wooden coffee table that was next to the couch. She sat down and grabbed at Lynn's arms, which were flailing about in a warding off motion.
"G-go away! I've had enough!" Lynn was screaming. "S-stop it! Stop it!"
"Lynn, Lynn!" Kat yelled as she secured her hands around each of Lynn's wrists. "It's me, Kat!"
Lynn's face cringed as if in sudden pain, causing the woman to recoil and squeeze her eyelids shut. "No! No! Don't eat me!"
"Lynn, calm down!" Kat ordered, lowering her voice to a more threatening tone. "I'm not going to hurt you!"
Beside the coffee table, Jason found a pair of glasses and placed them over Lynn's nose and ears once the opportunity presented itself between her terrified thrashes.
"Ma'am, we're not going to harm you. We're police officers and we're here to help you," Jason said in a stern yet comforting voice.
Lynn opened her eyes and looked up at Kat, who was still holding onto her wrists. She winced painfully a few more times, shutting her eyes and pulling her scrunched up face away as if she were trying to avoid getting smacked.
"P-please don't eat me," Lynn whined.
"Lynn, I'm not going to hurt you!" Kat was horrified to learn that her friend had probably witnessed the cannibalistic crime first hand but wasn't surprised at her hysterical, shocked overreaction. She knew that the psychological impact that the events had inflicted upon Lynn's mind were devastating, undeserved, and potentially debilitating. "It's me! You're safe now, I promise!"
Relaxation slowly began to creep into Lynn's system once she finally got a good look at the policemen standing before her. Her face continued to recoil as if it were instinctively protecting her eyes from an incoming object that was bound to hit her every few seconds as bullets of sweat slid down over her fevering, clammy skin. Her breath was racing and she let out a terrorised gasp whenever the reflexes occurred.
"Kat?" Lynn finally asked through raspy breaths. Her glasses allowed her a better look despite the effects of her fever's visual contortions. "Is t-that you?"
"Yes, it's me. I'm here with Deputies Crandall and Walsh and we're trying to help you." Kat pointed to Jason and Shane as she introduced them. "What happened to you?"
"You . . . Y-you're alive, right?" Lynn gasped as she studied both men. A sudden coughing fit overwhelmed the dying woman, sending spurts of blood out of her mouth.
"Shane, get her some water," Kat barked over her shoulder. She turned back to Lynn as the black haired cop trotted into the kitchen and Lynn's coughs settled. "Of course we're alive."
"Whatever it is, she has it," Jason called from the corner of the couch. He looked at Katharine, lips curled in disgust, and pointed to a mop bucket that was half-filled with bloodied, chunky vomit.
"Lynn, what happened?" Kat asked.
"W-walk . . . er," Lynn choked.
"What?"
"W-w-walk . . . k-k-err."
"Walker?" Jason asked. "A man named Walker?"
Lynn shook her head with frustration as Shane returned with a tall beer mug filled with ice water and handed it to her. He took a seat on the coffee table beside Kat and watched as the quivering nurse lifted the huge glass up to her mouth and began chugging the filtered liquid in huge gulps as if she had been deprived of its essential nourishment for weeks. Once she had emptied it, she leaned forward and shoved the glass against Shane's chest. "More," she rasped.
Something about the intake of water seemed to bring Lynn back to a period of lucidity. A few minutes after she had swallowed two full glasses, she finally began to calm down, think clearly, and make sense of things as she began working on a third.
"Is Mike at p-peace?" Lynn asked softly, looking to Kat with hopeful eyes.
"Umm," Kat looked down at the gun that she had placed in her lap and began wringing her hands as if she were toying with a wad of Play-Doh. "Yes . . . Yes, Mike is at peace." She pressed her lips together and nodded, unsure of how else to tell her friend that she had just blown her husband's head off.
"Y-you g-get him . . . in the h-head?" Lynn stuttered the question as if she were simply asking about the weather.
The three cops exchanged fleeting, creeped out glances.
"Gotta hit 'em . . . the brain," Lynn continued. The losing battle that Lynn was fighting against her fever was evident by her chattering teeth. "Gotta . . . des-s-s-troy the . . . brain."
Another flinching scowl followed, and Lynn hissed in agony.
"W-w-walkerrr."
"Lynn, what happened to you? I seriously need to know what happened," Kat demanded. She reached for Lynn's blanket and began to lift a corner to peer at whatever wound had created the wet blood stain that it was saturated with.
"Don't!" Lynn hissed before flinching again. "Arrgh!"
"What is it?"
"N-nothing," Lynn snarled as she relaxed. "Fever. Hallucinating . . . walk-kerrs."
"Ma'am you have to let us look so we can advise EMS," Shane explained. But Lynn pulled away from them both and was adamant about not letting the cops look under the blanket.
"Dead," Lynn said flatly. "S-soon, I'll be . . . d-dead. Look when . . . I'm . . . d-d-dead."
"No, don't talk that way," Kat soothed. "An ambulance is coming; we're going to get you help."
"No!" Lynn snapped. Her nonstop shivering exacerbated her aggravation. "You're n-not listen-n-ning!"
Kat huffed. "Okay, tell us. What happened to you? We're listening."
"The hospital," Lynn began. "My p-p-patient . . . b-b-bit . . . . m-me. Infect-t-t-ed." She pointed to the bloodied area of her afghan.
"He bit you?" Jason confirmed. He took his miniature steno pad and a pen out of his pocket and began jotting down her testimony.
Lynn nodded and took another sip of water before continuing. "Dizz . . . diseeeease. B-b-bites . . . spread the . . . diseeease."
"What is this disease?" Shane asked. "Is it rabies?"
"I d-d-d-don't . . . know," Lynn stammered, shivering dramatically. "New v-v-v-virusss. Watch the n-newss and you'll s-s-seee. Transmitted th-th-through b-bites. Feverrr, n-nausea, d-dellllirrrium, achesss, vomit-t-ing, hallu-c-c-cinations . . . Fatal. Always . . . f-f-fatal." Lynn took several deep breaths before continuing. "Fever b-b-burns b-brain up. K-k-killssss h-host. B-b-but then, w-w-walker . . . you b-b-become a w-w-walker."
At that moment Lynn burst into another coughing fit which she directed into a cushion. She heaved and gagged when her vibrating lungs and diaphragm tugged at her stomach, but only a thin trail of greenish-grey bile escaped despite all of the water that she had just consumed. Kat and Shane recognised the trail of bile and its abnormal colour as a sign that Lynn's internal organs were beginning to shut down.
After several more gulps of fresh water, Lynn handed the vacant glass to Shane for another refill. Her voice began to clear and steady once the mucus had been released.
"The disease," Lynn started anew, clearing her throat a few times. "It is t-t-transmitted when the h-host . . . b-b-bites or scratch-esss a healthy ind-d-dividual, like in rabies. B-b-but it's not r-rabies. We d-don't know what it is, yet. Once you g-get bit, y-y-you will d-die within twenty-four hourrrs."
"Lynn you keep saying 'walker.' What does that mean?" Kat asked as Shane once again took a seat beside her.
"A-after you die, the d-d-disease brings you b-back." Lynn took another sip of water after Shane handed the refilled glass back. "But it's n-not you. You're still d-dead."
"What do you mean?"
"Z-z-zomb-b-bies," Lynn hissed, almost as if she were trying to emphasise the word by stuttering it. "W-w-walking . . . dead. Bitesssss . . . M-m-m-mike . . . He d-died . . . on the oth-th-ther side of this c-c-couch. W-w-walk-k-errr b-b-bit him too."
The three officers were now staring at the woman with their mouths hanging slightly open and eyes wide as if they had just witnessed her throw up a snapping alligator. The disbelief etched into their faces, as well as the chaotic questions that Lynn had no doubt were dancing through their minds, was understandable.
"Z-zom . . . bie."
"Lynn, zombies aren't . . ." Kat began.
"Destroy the brain!" Lynn suddenly snapped as a surge of energy flowed through her. "You must destroy the brain, it is the only w-way to k-kill them!"
"But . . ."
"Once infected, you die! You die. But your b-body comes back. B-but not y-y-you. V-v-virus does something, f-fucks you up, 'n you come b-b-back to life, kind of. Walkers, they rot. What's l-l-left of you, is a rotting, h-hungry, m-m-mind-lesss animal. This disease, it's a p-plague! It w-will killll us . . . allll."
"We're gonna get you to a hospital, Ma'am," Jason assured her. He was trying hard to convince himself that the woman was speaking out of temporary insanity. "The ambulance is running late but it'll be here shortly. Hang on."
Lynn ignored the cop and picked up the Bible that was on her lap. She flipped the page to one of many that had been marked with colourful sticky notes, and then held the book up to Kat. "Here," she whispered, jabbing her finger against a passage that was outlined in bright pink. "Read."
"The Book of Zechariah," Kat observed as she accepted the Bible. She moved her eyes to the highlighted portion of the fourteenth chapter, passages twelve and thirteen. "And the Lord will send a plague on all the nations that fought against Jerusalem. Their people will become like walking corpses, their flesh rotting away. Their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths." Kat paused to curl her lip up with distaste, though through all the horror she had just faced, she still doubted that this new pestilence was really going to progress to anything more than another SARS or H1N1 outbreak. "On that day they will be terrified, stricken by the Lord with great panic. They will fight their neighbours in hand to hand combat."
"Oh my God," Jason was saying as Lynn reached up and flipped to another bookmarked page.
"Revelations 11:11," Kat read. "But after three and a half days a breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet, and terror struck those who saw them."
Another page was turned. "Ezekiel 37:10—So I prophesised as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet, a vast army."
"There's more in here," Lynn stated as she extracted the Bible from Katharine's grip. "I know you d-don't believe in the end of the w-w-world, but this is The Apocalypse."
"I'm sure researchers are working on a cure," Shane said.
"Pffft," Lynn snorted, rolling her eyes in their greyed, sunken sockets. "There isn't time for me."
"Don't say that . . ."
"You're Catholic. Your g-godfather's an exorcist," Lynn remembered, now grabbing Kat's wrist. She looked up to her with sad yet accepting eyes. "D-did he t-t-teach you the L-last Rites?"
Katharine fought the tears that were now trying to well up in her eyes. "He taught me about them, but a priest has to do it. I don't know the exact ritual."
"Bless me," Lynn demanded. She lifted her shaking hand and pointed to a bottle of holy water and that was among the pile of papers and objects that Kat has shoved onto the floor.
"Lynn you have to keep fighting," Kat insisted.
"My t-time has come, Kat," Lynn said with a nod. "I h-h-have accepted it. Give me my Last Rites, t-then p-p-put me out of my m-misery."
"Lynn, stop it," Kat retorted. "I can't do that, you're my friend."
Jason picked through the pile and found the holy water. He handed it to his partner who reluctantly accepted the bottle.
"Please, friend. Consecrate me."
Katharine sighed, but nodded. She uncapped the bottle and drizzled some of its contents onto her fingers, then drew a cross over Lynn's forehead. The fever that radiated through her gloves was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Placing her right hand on the nurse's burning head, she closed her eyes and began to pray aloud. "Father, please hear my prayer and come be with Your servant, Lynn Sommers in her final moments." She then opened her wet eyes and gazed at her friend, whose face was beginning to pale even more. "I commend you, my friend, to almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator. May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the Earth. May the Virgin Mary, the angels, and all of the saints come to meet you, as you go forth from this life." She paused to take in a deep breath, attempting to ward off the emotions that wanted to bust out of her by manifesting themselves as tears. "May Jesus, who was crucified for you . . . grant you His mercy and His peace. May Jesus, who died for you, admit you . . . into His heavenly Kingdom. May the blood that He shed . . . be your salvation and May He forgive you for all your sins . . . and set you among those whom He has chosen. May you see your Redeemer face to face and enjoy the vision of God forever." Again, Kat drew a cross over Lynn's forehead with the holy water. "Amen."
"Amen," the others in the room repeated in unison.
"Thank you," Lynn whispered, smiling sadly.
Katharine wiped at her eyes with her arm, since her gloves were contaminated with the disease. She felt Shane move closer, almost against her, and put his hand on her back and rub gently, just as he had after her eulogy to Mike Sommers.
"Please, don't give up," Kat begged, though she knew that Lynn's whitening face meant that her heart was beginning to slow and ease pressure.
Lynn noticed how close Shane had moved to her friend and watched his movements as he rubbed her friend's back up and down. She coughed then flinched as another hallucination flashed before her eyes. Once the delusion that was causing the three cops to look zombified passed, she looked up at Katharine and grinned weakly. "You bitch," she chuckled jokingly. "In all these years, ya n-n-never did intr-troduce me t-to your boyfriend. He's a cute one."
Kat laughed and sighed at the same time. Her first thought was to point out that her and Shane had broken up, but given the circumstances, she quickly decided that it wasn't worth it.
The near-zombie then shifted her gaze to the blushing Shane and looked him directly in the eyes. "Y-you take care of my bestie Katharine, now, y-you understand?"
Shane opened his mouth, looking for words. Finding none, he sighed and simply nodded.
"Promissse me!" Lynn demanded with a hiss.
"Yeah," Shane finally spoke, nodding again. "I promise."
Kat glared at her ex-boyfriend, who put his unoccupied hand up in protest. Lynn saw Kat's distraction and took the opportunity to snatch at the loaded revolver that was being held between Kat's legs. Reflexively, the deputy seized the firearm just as her friend was pulling it away and yanked it back. The dying woman maintained her grip on the gun, surprising Kat with her persistent strength.
"Drop it!" Jason shouted. He was already crouching beside Kat with his weapon raised.
"Put it down!" Shane ordered. "Mrs. Sommers, you don't want to do this."
"Kill me," Lynn begged, ignoring the other officers' commands. "Please, Kat, put me d-down."
"Lynn, let go," Kat said slowly. Without realising it, she had slid her left pointer finger over the trigger during the hurried snatch. It was simply a product of her police education, something she had been trained and practiced so many times that it had become as instinctual as scratching an itch.
"Shoot me," Lynn plead. "P-please, put me out of my misery. I w-want you to do it. D-d-don't let me be-c-c-come a w-walker. Want . . . to be . . . w-w-with Mike."
"You're my friend," Kat whined. "I can't kill you. You're sick. You need medical help. Please, let go of my gun or we will have to restrain you. Please, Lynn, don't do this. Don't put me through this. I'm your friend."
"Then as my f-friend, do me this last f-favour."
"No, Lynn!" she gasped quietly as she felt her friend ease her thumb over her trigger finger.
"Ma'am, let it go!" Jason shouted deeply. Shane was beginning to slowly move his free hand to the gun in the hopes that he could pry the sick woman's hand away.
"Please!" Lynn snapped. "My t-time is now. I choose this."
"Suicide is a sin!" Kat softly exclaimed, hoping it would somehow convince Lynn to change her mind. She knew that any sudden jerks would result in the trigger being pulled.
"Jesus will f-forgive me," Lynn said with a brisk nod. "He'll unders-s-s-stand."
"You're not lucid," Kat tried again.
"I'm as lucid as it m-matters."
Somewhere in the distance, the wail of a siren became audible. The deputies could tell that it was approaching fast.
"See? The ambulance is coming," Kat urged with an encouraging bob of her head. "Let go of my gun, please. They'll help you."
"No," Lynn growled. She then lurched forward and sat up and faced Kat, careful to keep her thumb steady. She ignored the click of Jason's gun as he cocked it.
"Ma'am, sit down," Shane ordered. From under the blanket, he could see a mutilated portion of Lynn's leg that was already becoming necrotic. He reached out with the intent to restrain the nurse but froze when Lynn grabbed the barrel with her other hand and positioned it right between her eyes.
"Oh my God!" Kat practically screamed. Her hands were beginning to tremble with fear. She tried to ease her own finger off of the trigger, but Lynn's thumb was exerting too much pressure for her to safely do so without firing.
"Glad to s-s-see you have enough am-m-mo in this," Lynn said as she looked cross-eyed at the revolver. "M-my p-p-parents are locked . . . upstairs. Walk-k-kers."
"Lynn, don't make me do this!"
"Kat, have you ever s-s-seen Shawshank Redemption?" Lynn asked randomly. A twisted smirk was now plastered on her face.
The three deputies were thrown off by the question, as was noticeable by the looks of confusion that had crossed their anxious faces.
Kat searched desperately for words. Thinking it might ease the situation, she decided to simply answer. "Yes. Yes, you and I went to see it in the theatre when it first came out in the '90s, remember?"
Lynn chuckled. "Oh yeah, that's r-right." She paused for a few seconds, letting the memory waft through her mind. A peaceful smile spread across her face, confirming again to the officers that Lynn was ready and eager to pass on.
The siren was now reverberating loudly into the apartment, signalling that it was almost to the residence.
Lynn strained her voice just enough so that the officers could hear her clearly over the emergency vehicle's high-pitched shriek. "You r-remember Red? The g-guy played by Morgan Freeman?"
Kat nodded as a single drop escaped her eye and fled from its place of origin. She felt her face involuntarily contort as her vision clouded with tears.
"I want you g-guys to r-remember what he s-s-said," Lynn continued. She looked around and made eye contact with the officers, smiling genuinely at each one as she did so. "He said . . . 'Get busy living, or g-get busy dying.' I've made my d-dec-c-cision. I can only hope that yours will b-b-be the opposite."
"Lynn!"
"Goodbye, friend."
And with that, Lynn Sommers' pushed Kat's finger against the trigger.

The monotonous beeping rhythm of his heart monitor was all that Rick Grimes had to keep him company as he waited for his mobility to return. Eyes closed, he listened to the mechanical overseer of his life and let himself drift off into a comatose daydream. He had no idea what day or time it was, but he felt like it had been forever since he had been admitted to the trauma unit. Worse, he felt like he was completely alone. Every so often a nurse would come in to check his vitals, change his bandage, and ask him a series of scripted questions to check for any signs of consciousness. Each time, he could only mentally scream his answers, wishing he had the powers of a clairvoyant to just telepathically respond. His wife, Lori Grimes, had come to check on him a few times since his operation, but he could tell that she was still pissed at him by her tone of voice. He also suspected that her own guilt at what she had said the previous morning was probably eating her alive, as well as her hidden worry.
Rick's current state reminded him of how he would often experience sleep paralysis as a kid, where he would wake up, his entire body aside from his eyelids completely frozen. His mind would be fully alert but the slow-motion shadows of his dream would continue to play out in the room before him as a hypnagogic hallucination until his body caught up with his brain and realised it was time to sever its bonds with REM sleep. Despite the numerous times he had the experiences and the understanding he had acquired regarding his narcolepsy, they had never lost their element of terror.
Memories of some of the frightening occurrences played out in his head, distracting him from hearing the soft footsteps of someone entering the room. When a soft squeeze was exerted upon his open, relaxed hand, his brain yelped at his muscles, ordering them to jump with surprise. His body ignored its request as if it had somehow been deafened from what part of him remained cognisant. Even his eyelids, which would once in a while open and allow him the grace of sight, betrayed him now.
"Hey Rick," a soft female voice murmured. He heard a metal chair rumble against the linoleum floor as the voice's owner pulled it closer to the bed and took a seat beside him. The female's voice was quite familiar, but its unusually saddened, stressed out tone mixed with his drugged state forced him to think hard about whom it belonged to.
"Can you move your fingers, Rick?" the woman asked. He felt her clutch his hand again and begin to stroke his knuckles with her thumb in an effort to encourage his muscles to contract. Rick felt a surge of frustration when his body continued to disobey his commands to budge. The woman sighed heavily. She was obviously sharing his sense of frustration and disappointment.
"I thought you would've woken up by now," she said. "Been worried sick about ya." After several seconds of picking his brain, Rick finally recognised the voice of Katharine Burke.
Why do you sound so down, Kat? Rick wondered. He mentally pictured his thoughts zipping out of his head as shimmering text and entering Kat's ears. His attempts at telepathy with Lori and the nurses had been epic fails, but he saw no harm in trying with Kat. His fellow officer had on occasion talked to him about the disembodied voices she often heard in her house, which they both assumed belonged to the ghost of her husband. If she could hear paranormal attempts at communication from the other side, maybe, just maybe, she would be sensitive enough to hear Rick's amateur trials with thought transference.
"You look a little better than you did yesterday," Kat observed. He heard a bit of pep spark into her voice, but it was obviously a result of seeing more colour and health in his relaxed face. "I know I said I would come visit you earlier, but we had a murder-suicide at work today and I was stuck at the scene for three hours past my shift."
Three hours? Rick thought. He began working his way through simple math. Second shift ends at 2300 hours, so with an extra three hours, it would be 0200 hours when she was relieved. So it must be somewhere between 2 and 3 AM.
"It's 2:37 AM," Kat muttered. "Friday morning. I'm so exhausted, but I'm off tomorrow so I will be able to come and see you again at a better time."
Rick couldn't help but wonder if Kat had subconsciously heard his thoughts. The probability of such was slim, but any kind of hope was better than none at this point. He decided to keep trying.
You sound sad, Kat. What's bothering you?
"We could've used you at work today. It was just one of those days. Many times today I found myself wishing you were at the scene. You always make the best decisions during difficult situations like that. You're a far better leader than I am."
But why do you sound so upset? I can hear it in your voice. You don't sound like your usual sarcastic, bouncy self. What's wrong, Kat? Rick had known Katharine since they had entered the police academy together at the age of twenty. Over the decade he noticed that few things emotionally affected the brown-haired deputy whom he considered one of his best friends. She was just as much a sister to him as Shane was a brother. For the normally cheerful, carefree, humorous, and sardonic Katharine to be speaking with a raspy, deepened, serious, and depressed tone, something tragic must have happened. The only time he could truly remember hearing her sound like this was when she had lost her husband.
"I really hope you wake up soon," Kat was saying. "You need to." He heard her chuckle half-heartedly. "I could really use one of our sit-by-a-bond-fire-and-bullshit-over-a-few-beers nights. I'm sure you're thinking the same on your end."
You have no idea. Rick definitely felt that he could go for one of those beer and bond fire nights with Kat, which always served as amazing de-stressors. They would sit outside for hours in Kat's backyard, venting their problems, giving each other advice, laughing about them, and then picking on each other just like old siblings. It was refreshing to get a woman's input and counsel from someone that he wasn't involved with, which allowed him the freedom of knowing he could tell her anything and trust her with his private business. It was something that he couldn't share with his wife due to the ridiculous fights she would pick whenever he would try to share his feelings. Rick knew the feeling was mutual on Kat's end when it came to needing a man's two cents, but he suspected that she simply didn't want to share her feelings with Shane. Once I am up and walking again, I'm going straight to your house and you better have that bond fire ready and a twelve pack in the fridge!
Aside from the need to vent all of the stress associated with his injury, Rick really wanted his friend's advice on what he needed to do about Lori. His wife had become an utter bitch ever since their son, Carl, had entered kindergarten. Before now, he had simply written his wife's behaviour off as a phase, hormones, or some other temporary agitation that she would eventually get over. But in the recent months, Lori had even suggested separation. The idea of being cast away from the woman he loved terrified him. The confusion and anguish it would force his son to endure wasn't even something he was willing to consider.
"I lost two of my friends today," Katharine admitted. "Mike and Lynn Sommers, you remember them? Lynn's parents, Mike's mom, and some construction guy, too. All dead now. They were all sick with some kind of new disease that's going around. Nobody has ever seen it before, I guess. Made poor Mike go out of his mind and try to kill Jay. I had to shoot him, Rick. I had to shoot him."
Rick heard his friend crack into a sniffle and reach for a tissue. I'm so sorry, Kat. He continued to imagine his thoughts entering her ears, trying to strengthen his signal.
"Found Lynn inside," Kat explained after she had blown her nose and wiped her eyes. "She . . ." Kat faded off as she fought off tears that were trying to suppress her larynx. "Umm, well, long story short, Lynn pulled a suicide by cop. I was that cop. I'll . . . I'll tell you about it later, when I feel up to it."
I am really sorry for your loss. Rick wished he had the ability to give his friend a brotherly hug of condolence. Ever since the sudden death of her husband, Kat had never been very good at grieving. This has to be unbearably hard for you. I can't imagine.
"It's eerie, when someone is about to die. When they know it's coming and they've accepted their own death, you can just feel it through the way they talk and stuff. I guess what they say about suicide is true; when someone's really serious about it and ready to check out, there's no stopping that person."
Kat took another quick break to empty the contents of her nose into a fresh tissue.
"You better wake your ass up soon, cuz I really don't feel like going to three funerals in one week." Rick could tell she was joking; that was the harmlessly sarcastic nature of how they spoke to one another.
Sheesh Kat, I'm trying.
"That and I really don't like the idea of you being in this hospital with all these sick people and shit. Hospitals give me the creeps."
At least someone outside of the medical profession was encouraging him to come out of the coma. His own wife didn't seem too interested, for she had only popped in on occasion and hardly spoken to him when she did. She had mostly asked the nurses about his condition, and he was beginning to wonder if Lori even knew that people in comas were often conscious beneath their paralysed shells.
"Seen your wife this morning," Kat grumbled. "Dropped Erin and the twins off at school and she was outside saying something to Carl. Didn't catch what she said, but after she sent him on his way, she came up to me and was asking a billion questions. She seemed pretty worried about you and had tears in her eyes. I'm not sure though, should I be surprised that she isn't in here right now?"
Honestly, I'm asking myself the same question. Rick almost felt a sensation of mobility running up and down his arms. He wondered if he was beginning to make some progress with his recovery, but felt disheartened when his arms and fingers began to feel as if they weighed a hundred pounds of dead weight each. The tingling feelings that were starting to etch their ways through his limbs felt similar to a reawakened arm that had been improperly slept on and put to sleep.
"Ya know, I never really did think much of her," Kat confessed. It wasn't news to Rick's ears; Kat had hinted over the years that she wasn't too fond of Lori. "Funny how she always glares at me like she's jealous or something. Probably is. Yet when something bad happens to you, she starts to act like she's my best friend. Heh!"
She is jealous of you. She hates how we hang out all the time. Probably thinks we're fucking or some stupid crap like that.
"If you'd like, I'll whip her skinny ass for you. But you gotta wake up for that to happen cuz I want you to see it." Kat was chuckling again, and Rick knew she was only trying to utilise humour to get through to him. Rick and Kat always threatened to kill each other, burn each other's houses down, drug and date rape each other, or bomb each other's cars. But it was always in good fun and never serious.
I really wish I could move right now. You won't believe what she said to me in front of Carl yesterday.
Rick then heard one of the many individualised notification ringtones that Kat had programmed into her phone chiming. He recognised it as Shane's.
"But in exchange, you have to beat up Shane for me."
Oh God, what did he do now? Rick wondered as he heard Kat check her phone.
"I broke up with him the other day, before you got hurt. I'm sure he made a beeline to your house right after."
Oh yeah, I remember that now. Poor Shane, he was so crushed. You really shouldn't break his heart like that. One of these days you're gonna throw him over the edge, or at least make him do something really, really stupid. He's a great guy but you gotta remember he tends to let his emotions run wild and get him into trouble . . .
"Now he won't stop blowing up my phone and he's being all friendly 'n shit with me at work. I don't know what he told you, but my reasons for doing it are that he's gotten too clingy and emotional. He just won't give me my space. Last week he asked me what I thought of becoming Mrs. Walsh, and that scared the hell out of me. I know it's been six years, but I'm just not ready to get married again."
For the first time since his accident, Rick was rather relieved that he couldn't speak. He honestly didn't know what to say. He hated taking sides, especially when the opponents were his two best friends. He felt that Kat took Shane's behaviour for granted, but at the same time, he could see why she was feeling smothered and controlled by it.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. Probably fear or some other retarded thing. I don't get emotions. They're stupid."
Shane loves you.
"Anyways, I should probably be getting home. It's so late and the babysitter is waiting for me. Hope to see you walking around tomorrow. Hang in there, Brohan."

Despite his exhaustion from having been through a police shootout, a horrifying first encounter with walkers, and a broken heart all in less than seventy-two hours, Shane couldn't sleep. Insomnia plagued him like a case of zombie fever, tormenting him with brief flashbacks of the zombified faces that he had just been introduced to. He felt heaviness in his chest and emptiness in his soul as he tossed and turned on his lonely couch, wishing he had something other than a pillow to hold against him. He felt betrayed, used, unloved, and unappreciated. On top of that, he was becoming paranoid that another rotten carcass would show up and try to break through his window. Witnessing Lynn's parents' maggot-ridden bodies stand up and charge towards him had been quite enough. After each zombie had taken several rounds in the chest, the only bullets that had brought them down had been the ones that wound up in their heads.
Shane shook his head to rid his mind of the memories, letting it drift back to his misunderstanding over Kat. He had given everything he had to that girl. He'd been there for her in the months following her husband's death; taking time off of work to be with her while she moped around in bereavement. He'd let her cry on his shoulder and had sat patiently with her while she stared off into space for hours on end. He'd taken her daughter to school every day, picked her up, and carted her around to playgrounds and in the more recent years, softball games. Even after Kat had finally gotten past her abnormally long period of grievous depression, he'd stuck around. And now, six years and three kids later, Kat had tossed Shane in the trash. After all that and way more, Kat now considered him to be more worthless than a screen door on a submarine.
Shane didn't understand. He thought he had done everything right. Kat had even told him directly that he was a better partner and father than her deceased spouse had been. But now, all of a sudden, she viewed him as little more than an aggravating emotional wreck that wasn't worth dealing with anymore. And of course, like always, she wouldn't justify her thinking. Whenever he tried to summon an explanation from her, she would either say she didn't know how to put her feelings into words and drop the conversation, or she would simply blow a gasket.
Confusion was a parasite that stung at the soul of its host like a swarm of bees. Shane's head told him to move on, but his heart wouldn't let him. He loved Katharine and he wanted to fix things. He hadn't spent the last six years of his life with her for nothing and he refused to let his longest lasting relationship be in vain. He had to do something before he ran out of time. Perhaps it was the threat of plague, or maybe it was paranoia elicited by his overwhelming emotions, but for some eerie, inexplicable reason, Shane sensed that he was going to lose her. Every instinct in his heart was telling him to act now and get Kat back before it was too late.
Shane opened his phone and viewed his text message thread with Kat Burke. Excluding the texts he had sent her at work, Kat had ignored the additional five texts he had sent her after their relief from overtime duties. He thought about trying one last time for the night, but couldn't think of anything to say. His head was trying to feed him a dose of rationality, which for a brief moment, Shane considered. After six years, he and Kat still had never officially lived together. Sure, they spent most of their off-time at each other's houses, but every year when it came time to renew their leases, Kat would keep hers from Shane and refuse to write her name on his. She never spoke of marriage unless Shane initiated a conversation about it, and those brief talks never went anywhere. The excuse she had was that she didn't want to betray her dead husband by marrying another man. It was stupid. The guy had been an uneducated auto mechanic and a lazy prick. Katharine had only married the idiot because her outrageously Catholic family had forced her to after he knocked her up two years before she'd gone to academy. There had been zero love between them. Yet when along came a handsome police officer who had his shit together, wanted to provide for a family, and was willing to give his life for the woman he had fallen in love with, nobody cared. For almost the full six years, Shane had told Kat that he loved her with all his heart and he was still waiting to hear her say it back. Any normal, sane man would have probably given up years ago.
Love truly was blinding, or at least colour blinding, for Shane just wasn't comprehending the severity or meaning of any of the huge red flags that his situation was waving right in front of him. He shook the negative thoughts away and sent Kat a final text message. 'i know u don't want 2 hear from me nemore but at least give the kids a kiss 4 me n let them know i luv them when u wake up k?' It was the last and only thing he could think of to say. It pissed him off knowing that he wasn't going to be able to do it himself.
The frustrating persistence of insomnia had Shane so desperate for sleep that he was actually thinking about counting sheep. But every time he shut his eyes, flashbacks of the horrifying crime scene played in loop in front of his closed eyelids. Just when he decided to give it a shot, he was shocked to hear his phone beep as it received a text message.
'A kiss from my lips under your name is about as legitimate as a promise from one of those skinny Santas at the mall.'
Uncalled for, the harsh words of Katharine's text were yet another figurative slap in the face.
'Then let me do it myself. plz?'
Shane didn't expect to receive an answer.
Several minutes passed and once again he found himself wide awake inside of his fatigued, aching body. His thoughts began to race anew and he pondered how and why words had the ability to inflict so much pain and tried to figure out what he had done to deserve them. He also began to wonder if reciprocated love was simply too much to ask for. He became so lost in his trepidation that it began to mingle with the flashbacks, causing him so see sporadic images of Katharine and himself as zombies. The ghastly visions stressed him out so bad that he didn't even notice his phone sound off again. When he finally picked the device up twenty minutes later, at 3:16 AM, he felt a mixture of surprise, relief, hope, and anxiety as he reopened his inbox.
'Just as well,' had been Katharine's reply at 2:56.
Shane had no idea what she meant by that, but he wasn't going to sit there and think about it anymore. He rolled off the couch and slid into a pair of pyjama pants, a t-shirt, and grass-stained sneakers that were still tied. A few minutes later, he found himself cruising down the lonely back roads of King County, flying through his Jeep's gears as he made his way to Kat's house. The angry voice of Eminem emanated through the truck's speakers, rhyming about life in such a way that Shane felt as if the rapper was speaking directly to him.
"No more pain, bitch, you took me for granted

Took my heart and ran it straight into the planet

Into the dirt, I can no longer stand it

Now my respect, I demand it

Imma take control of this relationship, command it

'N Imma be the boss of you now, goddamn it

And what I mean is I will no longer let you control me

So you better hear me out, this much you owe me

I gave up my life for you, totally devoted to you while I stayed

Thankful all the way, this is how I fucking get repaid?

Look at how I dress, fucking baggy sweats, go to work a mess

Always in a rush to get back to you, I ain't heard you yet

Not even once say you appreciate me, I deserve respect

I've done my best to give you nothing less than perfectness

And I know that if I end this I'll no longer have nothing left

But you keep treating me like a staircase; it's time to fucking step

And I won't be coming back so don't hold your fucking breath

You know what you've done, no need to go in depth

I told you you'd be sorry if I fucking left, I'd laugh while you wept

How's it feel? Funny, ain't it? You neglected me

Did me a favour although my spirit free you've set

But a special place for you in my heart I have kept

It's unfortunate, but it's just . . .

Too late, for the other side

Caught in a chase, 25 to life . . ."
The lyrics fed the thoughts of his head and heart, which continued to argue amongst themselves as if the two figurative body parts were caught up in an everlasting domestic dispute deep inside his soul. He began to feel so entangled by their drama that he didn't know how much more he could take, and for a brief moment he almost felt like driving his Jeep straight into a tree. Considering the fact that the resulting head injury or death would surely silence his anguish, the thought was appealing. But he decided against it; the suicide rate had been far too high today, and he knew it would only make things worse. He had to get busy living anyways, since everyone else seemed to be getting busy on the new dying trend.
"I feel like when I bend over backwards for you, all you do is laugh

Cuz I ain't good enough, you expect me to fold myself in half 'til I snap"
It was 3:41 AM when Shane pulled into Kat's driveway. He was glad to find his Jeep's usual resting place available in the driveway; at least that meant that there wasn't another man in the picture. He parked the Jeep between Kat's patrol car and her brand new black Ford Escape and decided to absorb the rest of the song's lyrics before getting out.
"Evil as they come, vindictive as they make 'em

My friends keep asking me why I can't just walk away from you

I'm addicted to the pain, the stress, the drama

I'm drawn in, so I guess Imma mess, cursed and blessed

But this time I ain't changing my mind

I'm climbing out this abyss

You screaming as I walk out that I'll be missed

But when you spoke of people who meant the most to you, you left me off your list

Fuck you hip-hop, I'm leaving you

My life sentence is served, bitch, but it's just . . .

Too late, for the other side

Caught in a chase, 25 to life . . ."
As always, almost every light was on in the house. Knowing that Kat's children would be asleep, he avoided the doorbell and opened the security code box that had been installed beside it. He went to disarm it, but hesitated, suddenly fearing that perhaps the code had been changed. His heart began to race, not only from the risk he ran of activating the burglar alarm, but also because he was having seconds thoughts about coming here. Kat's verbal assault during the breakup had been torturous enough. Going through it again was not something he planned to do.
Jesus, Shane, quit being such a pussy and face it! he told himself. Before his mind could involuntarily change itself to chicken-out mode, he slammed his fingers against the rubber dials and breathed a sigh of relief when the system disarmed.
The downstairs floor of Kat's house was silent aside from the old grandfather clock that ticked peacefully in the living room. After kicking off his dirty shoes, locking the door, and rearming the security system, Shane began his typical nightly ritual of blackening Kat's house one light switch at a time. Beneath the closed door leading to Kat's daughter's bedroom, he noticed a flickering of blues and oranges, indicating that her television was still on. He peeked in and saw that ten year old Erin Burke had dozed off in the middle of a Family Guy rerun, so he tiptoed in and silenced the already quieted TV.
Finding the upstairs completely dark was a shock. Even the corridor nightlight was off. Kat's bedroom door was open, as was the one across the hall where her twins slept. Shane walked into the children's bedroom and found them snuggled under their blankets, fast asleep. They didn't stir as he leaned over each one to plant a goodnight kiss on their foreheads. "Sweet dreams, Daddy loves you," he whispered to each. He closed their door behind him when he was done.
Kat Burke was passed out on her bed, back to the door and still in uniform when Shane walked in. Her utility belt was the only thing she had bothered to take off, which had been left in the middle of the floor with her boots. He moved it aside before crawling onto the bed behind her. Wrapped loosely in Katharine's arms was their thirteen month old son, who was in the process of drizzling a puddle of drool onto the blanket.
Before Shane could put his arm around her, Kat groaned and squinted at him over her shoulder with bloodshot, puffy eyes. It was obvious that she had bawled them out recently, as tissues littered the far side of the bed beside a photo album and a fresh box of Puffs.
"What are you doing here?" Kat asked groggily with a hint of irritation.
"Came to turn your lights off," Shane whispered with a smile. He reached up, placed his hand on her cheek and was surprised when he felt her press against his palm, taking comfort in his touch.
"Thanks, Mom," Kat muttered, rolling her swollen eyes.
"Actually I just wanted to see ya," Shane explained. "I miss you so much. You have no idea. I was worried about you, especially after what happened today. I wanted to make sure you and the kids were okay."
"We're fine," Kat said before resuming her restful position.
"I don't want to lose you."
"Lose me? Pfft, I'm pretty sure you've already done that."
"Kat, stop being so mean to me. I don't know why you gotta treat me like shit. I love you."
Kat sighed quickly, emphasising her annoyance at him showing up at her house. "Shane, this isn't a good time to . . ."
"Then when is it a good time? It never is with you."
Kat rolled onto her back with a glare in her eyes and found herself partially beneath him as he leaned over her, his face mere inches away from hers. "When I'm not upset and tired."
"This is the only time I've tried when you are upset and tired."
She sighed again and shut her eyes, admitting defeat without words.
"Do you have any idea how what you're doing to me makes me feel?"
"Not really," she whimpered, wiping fresh liquid from her eyes.
"Well it hurts," Shane huffed. "It hurts a lot. That kind of hurt that is so bad ya start to feel it physically. It feels like I've had a knife shoved into my heart."
"I'm sorry. Really, I am. But can we talk about this in the morning? I'm exhausted."
"I've heard that one a million times too."
"I promise. Okay?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"How about this? After we get up in the morning, I'll take the kids to their grandma's and we can go get breakfast or something and just talk. Sound good?"
"After we get up?" Shane felt a bit of hope. "Does that mean I can stay here tonight?"
Katharine rolled her eyes again, realising that she hadn't chosen her words before reflexively speaking. "Whatever."
"You're not gonna make me sleep on the couch are ya?"
"Well, I was just about to suggest that . . ."
"Aww, come on!" Shane begged playfully, trying to elicit a smile from the woman he loved. He gave her a puppy dog face, something that worked every time.
Kat finally grinned, knowing she couldn't fight the expression no matter how hard she tried. "Oh, all right."
"Junior's hogging my side of the bed," Shane said, nodding towards the baby. "Knew you couldn't stand to sleep alone!" Now that he was getting somewhere positive, he didn't feel quite so dark inside. It wasn't much, but it was enough to spark a bit of friskiness in him.
"Shut up," Kat laughed quietly, slapping him jokingly on the shoulder. "Put him in his crib."
"You're not gonna sleep in that, are ya?" Shane asked after he had eased his son into his crib and kissed him.
"Too tired to change."
"So you're gonna make me sleep next to a sweaty popo? That ain't fun to cuddle with. Ewww."
"Oh so now you want me to shower too, huh? Jerk."
"Yep."
"Make me," Kat challenged half-heartedly.
"No prob hun," Shane said. Before she could protest, he slid his arms under her body, picked her up, and placed her on her feet. He then pulled her against him and held her tight, still gnawed at by that feeling of impending doom that he was going to lose her for good. Kat relaxed in his embrace, seeking out the comfort of his beating heart with her ear as she rested her somnolent head on his chest. Shane became lost in his fears once again, conflict mounting within him as the lyrics of Eminem's song echoed over and over in his head. Flashbacks teased him incessantly, and for a split second he almost believed them.
Looking down into Kat's eyes as she gazed up at him, he watched in horror as his mind warped the image of her perfect face into that of a rotten, snarling, lipless walker with eyes ten times more bloodshot than they actually were. Shane felt paralysed as the apparition's sunken face moved closer to his, undoubtedly with every intention to eat his face. But the hallucination skewed itself away when instead of teeth he felt Kat's soft open lips brush against his own. The seductive gesture freed him of his paralysis, sucking him in as their lips met again in a passionate tangle. He reached up and gently pried the large hairclip from Kat's thick mane, feeling her long locks fall loosely around his fingers as he raked them over her scalp, knocking out the bobby pins that were camouflaged into them. He felt Kat's nails dig lightly into his shirt as she ran her fingers down his back, stopping briefly to give his ass a playful squeeze before sneaking beneath the blue fabric. The sensation of her nails grazing up over his bare skin sent a chill through him. He broke away from the kiss just long enough to relinquish his shirt, drawing her back in as she tossed it somewhere on the floor around them.
Katharine pressed her body against him, almost as if to block his roaming hands from the zipper that would grant Shane access to the inside of her uniform. She giggled as he began to part her lips with his hungry tongue, feeling his growing erection through his pyjamas in response to her subtle movements. Shane kept his hands occupied by grabbing a fistful of her long brown hair to urge her head back, exposing her neck so he could graze it with the tip of his tongue. The motion pulled her away just enough that he could ease his other hand over her shirt's zipper and slowly pull it down as she moaned softly in his ear. As she reluctantly pried her own hands from their sensual exploration of his ripped abdomen, she allowed her fingertips to brush over his now aching erection, emphasising the stroke in slow motion just to be a tease.
"Why we gotta wear so much shit?" Shane asked with a sly smile as he severed the Velcro straps of Kat's bulletproof vest. "Makes it so tedious to get to the good part."
"Because we're cops, of course," Kat giggled. "It wouldn't be as fun if we didn't have these hard exteriors to peel through." She slid out of her vest and sweaty undershirt, then pulled her long time lover into another passionate kiss before he could attack her bra.
"Oh I'm still trying to break through your shell," Shane said between her tasty oral assaults. "One of these days, I'll knock that wall down."
"Mmmhmm," Kat hummed, ending his semi-serious conversation by reaching into his loose-fitting pants.
Shane tilted his head back and breathed deeply, shuttering with a low animalistic grumble as he felt Kat free his throbbing cock from the confines of his pants, replacing them with her own mouth following several gentle tongue flicks against the head. Looking down, Shane saw her staring up at him, her face filled with longing and what he assumed was love. Her seductive eyes mesmerised him, luring him into a trance that for the first time in days liberated him of his heavy thoughts. He couldn't peel his eyes away from her flawless face as she opened her throat to receive his entire length. He felt her lips close around him, drawing on him, wanting to pleasure every fibre of his being. He saw the sides of her lips turn happily, his ragged breathing sending thrills of excitement through her heated body. He continued to run his hands through her silky hair as he again pulled his eyes away to throw his head back as every drop of essence within his naked body seemed to amplify in mind-numbing amounts.
Again, Shane fixed his glassy eyes on her as he reached down to unclip her bra. For a brief second, another flashback filled his sights as the highly arousing image of Kat flickered into that of the imaginary lipless walker whose facial muscles were so badly decayed that her dry, leathery skin clung to her skull like the glue of a linoleum floor. Shane blinked rapidly and pulled back slightly, relieved when the hallucination winked out. Kat didn't seem to register his moment of post-traumatic stress for she grinned up at him, swirling her strong tongue along the underside of his cock as his soft groans filled her ears.
Finally, the last of Shane's restraint vanished. He reached down, gripped her under her arms, and pulled her up to meet him in a fierce kiss as he forced her back down onto the mattress and heatedly stripped her of the lower half of her uniform. Kat spread her legs as he knelt down, giggling as she realised what was about to come. The look in her eyes begged him not to make her wait for it; as soon as Shane's slightly rough tongue touched her swollen sensitive areas, Kat choked out a half-whimper, half-moan before pushing her head back into the squishy feather comforter. With almost painstaking tenderness he explored her tastes, chuckling softly each time she writhed just enough to displace his tongue toward the source of her sweet wetness.
The sudden painful expression that crossed Kat's face wasn't something that Shane found unusual. She often appeared to be in agony as her orgasms built to overwhelming levels of pleasure and tension. But for once the cringe was genuine; as she watched her mate intensify his ravenous licking his skin suddenly began to look greyer and greyer. His face seemed to sink into the crevices of his skull and his bulging eyes clouded over into blind, almost solid white orbs. Confusion wracked her soul. Her sexual brain warned her of an impending orgasm while the brain between her ears registered a fear that was trying to motivate her to bolt. But the orgasm quickly won the battle, throwing her vocal cords into a low, primal howl as pleasure shuddered out through her clamped inner walls in the form of delicious come that Shane lapped up like a thirsty puppy. When she dared to look back down, Shane was flexing his eyebrows at her, the corners of his lips turned into a victorious yet loving grin as he finished savouring her succulent juices.
A simple beckon of Kat's finger brought Shane back on top of her. His mouth met hers again with a hidden urgency as he positioned himself between her open thighs, eyes glazed over with passion and excitement. Kat gripped onto his shoulders as he eased inside of her, causing her to cry out to him as he filled her. Shane grasped her smooth legs and brought them up to rest on his muscular shoulders as he thrust into her, feeling her nails scrape down his arms as she rose up to meet his strokes and place herself into the magical angle that would earn her another orgasm. After several weeks of abstinence due to tension in their relationship, Shane was happy to feel how tight and hot she had become. He clenched his teeth as he laboured over her, growling lustfully when he felt the tips of her breasts teasing his chest. She arched her back, pressing herself up against him as much as possible.
Liquid fire consumed Kat as another orgasm surged over her several minutes later, causing her to scream out his name, not caring if the whole damn world heard it. The contracting of her muscles around him and the intensity of her heat drove him over the edge and he joined her in her cries of animal passion, roaring her name loudly as he climaxed inside of her.
Shane collapsed against her in sheer exhaustion, his breathing laboured. He felt her legs slide down his sides to rest against his lower half and she nipped gently at his ear, clenching herself around his cock, enticing another deep groan from him. He shifted his body until he was looking down at her, his eyes glinting like two jewels in the pale moonlight that drifted in from the window. He slid out of her and rolled onto his back, dragging her with him to lay her head against his chest. His one arm wrapped around her waist and the other reached out to pull the blankets over top of their sweat glistened bodies. Forgetting about the flashbacks and their warped images of near-necrophilia and giving up on the plan to take a shower, they waited for their racing hearts to calm until finally, the much needed blissfulness of sleep overcame them.
Hours later, long after daylight had become a dominant force in the sky, Shane and Katharine were jolted awake by a terrified, bloodcurdling scream . . .

Do you see now why I cut Chapter 1 in half? I write a lot. Yeah, I'm one of those authors. Now that you've trudged through all those words . . . .
REVIEW MY STORY!
If you don't, I will lock you in a barn full of walkers. :)
I should have another chapter up in the next few days. If I get reviews, anyways.
The song that Shane listens to in this chapter is "25 to Life" by Eminem. It's from his Recovery album. Credit for the lyrics goes to Eminem, of course.
To state the obvious (for disclaimer purposes), the passages that Kat reads from were taken from the Bible . . . Credit for those goes to . . . umm, Jesus and all those other dead people who wrote it . . .
Do you have any suggestions, ideas, comments, or critiques? Pairings you'd like to see? Characters you would like to see zombified or just flat out eaten alive? Suggest away in your review!
My Zombie Valentine copyright © 28 March 2012 by Darkinyron
The Walking Dead copyright © Robert Kirkman
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My Zombie Valentine