Sunday, November 22, after the alarm blared.
The alley was a tunnel of death, narrow and somber, with cracked brick walls that rose like indifferent sentinels. The sun filtered dusty beams through the crevices, but it did nothing to ease the stench of rot that permeated the air, a smell Alex now associated with the virus that had turned humanity into an army of shambling horrors.
Groans echoed from both entrances, a guttural chorus closing in inexorably, drawn by the car alarm Emily had set off in her panic. Alex held Yuki by the arm; her injured leg gave her a pronounced limp, but he couldn't afford to slow down.
They backed up step by step, their shoes scraping the asphalt covered in trash and dried blood. The doors around them—entrances to abandoned buildings—were sealed with rusted padlocks or blocked by debris, a dead-end maze that made Alex's pulse race. He kept his calm, an anchor in the storm that was his mind.
Don't panic. Think. Survive.
But Yuki, her face pale and drenched in sweat, was on the verge of collapse. Her breathing was becoming hyperventilated, short, desperate gasps that threatened to draw more zombies. She froze momentarily, her glazed eyes fixed on the approaching, stumbling figures, her hands trembling like leaves in the wind.
"Yuki, look at me," Alex whispered, his voice firm but soft, a contrast to the chaos surrounding them. "We're getting out of this. Just stay with me. Deep breaths. Everything will be fine, I promise you."
He wasn't sure he believed his own words—his visions hadn't shown him this, or Yuki—but the calming tone seemed to cut through her terror, at least enough for her to keep moving.
They retreated a few more yards, the alley narrowing like a trap. Alex desperately scanned the surroundings: overturned dumpsters, piles of garbage, but nothing useful. Then, he saw it: an open window on the second floor of an adjacent building, about seven feet up. It was high, too high for an easy jump, especially with an injured Yuki. I could climb, but her...
He thought about hoisting her up first, but what if there were zombies inside? The risk was double: leaving her alone down here or exposing her to the unknown up there.
The seconds stretched like minutes, the growls drawing closer.
Options running out. Zombies on both sides. Locked doors. Only the window.
He decided: he'd go up first, secure the interior, then help her.
"Yuki, listen," he said, pulling her close to the wall beneath the window. "I'm going up first, checking if it's safe. Then I'll help you. Stay right here, don't move."
But his words seemed lost in her panic; her eyes were unfocused, tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook her head, mumbling incoherently.
With no time left, Alex took a few steps back, measuring the distance. He ran, jumped, his fingers gripping the windowsill with a grunt of effort.
Climbing was torment: his arm muscles burned, sweat stung his eyes, but he hauled himself up, rolling through the window and inside. The success was fleeting; the growls below intensified, and Yuki's cry cut the air like a knife.
"Alex! Don't leave me!" she sobbed, her voice broken by terror, convinced he would abandon her as so many would in this hell.
Alex ignored the knot in his stomach—I'm not abandoning her. I can't—and scanned the room quickly.
It was a multi-purpose hall, with overturned tables and scattered papers, dust floating in the air like mist. No zombies in sight, but the echo of shuffling footsteps from an adjacent corridor alerted him. He dropped his backpack, spear, and machete on the floor—too much weight to maneuver fast—keeping only a knife and his pistol on his belt.
Sliding back down the wall to avoid jumping and risking a sprain, he landed with a soft thud.
Below, Yuki was crouched, sobbing quietly to avoid attracting more zombies, her hands covering her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Tears streaked her face, an image of pure desperation that touched something in Alex.
There was no time for comfort. He lifted her abruptly, startling her. Yuki let out a choked cry, her face shifting from desperation to renewed hope, with a hidden glint in her eyes Alex couldn't decipher—gratitude? Something else?—but it didn't matter now.
"Come on, up," he muttered, positioning her.
Climbing again was agony: hanging from the sill with one arm, he extended the other to help her. Yuki clambered over his body, her nails digging into his skin, the weight pulling his muscles as if they would tear.
Groans, gasps, the brush of cloth against brick—everything blended into sensory chaos. Finally, both rolled through the window, collapsing onto the dusty floor.
Alex lay there, exhausted, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his arms spasming from the superhuman effort. His vision blurred momentarily, black spots dancing at the edges, his heart pounding like a war drum.
Yuki, beside him, wiped her face with trembling hands, tears and snot mingled, trying to control her sobs.
Five minutes passed in silence, only interrupted by the groans and scrapes outside—zombies clawing at the wall, attracted but unable to climb. Alex sat up first, then helped her.
"You're okay," he said, more an affirmation than a question.
Yuki nodded, her eyes red but focused now.
They explored their surroundings; the hall opened into an office through a half-open door, and beyond that, a corridor. But shuffling footsteps—the zombies' characteristic stagger—were approaching from there.
Alex signaled for her to be silent, his finger to his lips. He moved with feline stealth, closing the office door with a soft click, sealing the area. Now safe, he took out his radio, adjusting the volume to the minimum.
Tim, Emily... they have to be safe.
He turned the device on, the static buzz breaking the silence.
"Tim, do you copy? It's Yuki and me. We're inside a building in the alley. Are you safe?"
The static crackled, and Tim's voice replied, relieved.
"Alex, yes. We're in the warehouse. Emily's hysterical, but safe. The others are fine too. You guys?"
Alex exhaled, relief washing away some of his fatigue.
"Safe for now. We'll link up soon."
He quickly hung up not to expose them to further danger.
He looked at Yuki. She offered a weak smile; the bond forged in terror palpable. But outside, the growls persisted, a reminder that the apocalypse gave no quarter.
Yuki, sitting against the wall, whispered, "Thank you, Alex. I thought... you'd leave me."
He shook his head.
"Never. We're a team."
The moment of quiet was a respite, but the world outside roared, and soon they would have to face it again. Alex checked his gear, his mind already planning the next move, pragmatism colliding with the empathy Yuki had awakened in him.
Half an hour later.
The office was a precarious refuge, an oasis of silence in the heart of a shattered world. The walls, covered in wallpaper and motivational posters, seemed to mock the external reality, where the zombies' groans echoed as a constant reminder of the apocalypse.
The air smelled of mold and something metallic, perhaps dried blood from a previous occupant. Alex leaned against a wall, his machete and spear resting in a corner, his breathing still ragged from the effort of climbing with Yuki.
Thirty minutes had passed since they secured the room, and Alex's mind spun like a rusted gear.
What will Tim do? And Emily?
He knew his group after nearly two days of chaos: Tim, loyal and rational, would likely keep his head, but Emily, with her burning idealism, might insist on coming back for them, risking everything. The thought of the others being trapped or doing something reckless gnawed at him.
I can't guide them from here.
His plan was clear: they had to move toward the nearest safe house and wait for them there. It was the most logical, safest course of action. With that thought, he pulled out the radio, setting the volume to minimum to avoid attracting the dead.
"Tim, do you copy?" he whispered, his voice tense but controlled.
The answer came quickly, Tim's voice steady despite the static.
"We're here, Alex. The warehouse is secured, at least for now. You guys?"
"We're fine, but trapped for now. It'll take time to get out."
He paused, collecting his thoughts.
"Listen, the best thing is for you to head to the safe house, southwest. Wait for us there. Don't come for us; if you get closer, you could attract more zombies and make everything worse."
A murmur in the background interrupted: Emily's voice, loud and defiant.
"We can't leave them! Alex, Yuki is hurt! We have to—!"
Static cut off some of her words, but the tone was unmistakable. Alex sighed, gripping the radio tight.
"Emily, listen to me. If you come, you'll be a liability. You'll attract more zombies, and we'll all die. Go to the safe house. That's an order."
There was a heavy silence, followed by Tim's voice.
"Understood, Alex. We're heading there. Emily... she's not happy, but we'll do it."
The transmission ended, and Alex exhaled, the weight of responsibility momentarily eased. Yuki, sitting on the floor beside him, said nothing. Her eyes, still red from recent tears, watched him with an almost blind trust, a faith Alex wasn't sure he deserved.
She trusts me, but I barely know what I'm doing.
With the radio put away, Alex allowed himself to relax, even if only a little.
He slid down to the floor, his back against the wall, exhaustion pulling at every muscle. Yuki moved closer, sitting nearer than usual, her knees almost touching his. She didn't speak, but the gesture was enough.
Alex pulled a packet of saltine crackers from his backpack—a gift from the firefighters—and shared it with her. The crunch of crackers broke the silence, an absurdly normal sound in the middle of hell.
"I never thought I'd miss eating something so simple," Alex said, half-jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. "I used to eat them all the time when I drove trucks."
Yuki smiled weakly, biting into a cracker.
"I thought you were military or something," she admitted, her voice soft but curious. "With everything you do... the way you handle this. But, a truck driver? I didn't expect that."
Alex let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, it's not as exciting as it sounds. Just long routes, bad coffee, and too many hours alone with the radio. But it teaches you to think fast, to improvise. Like now." He paused, looking at her. "What about you? Tell me more about your life in Japan."
Yuki looked down, her fingers playing with the cracker.
"It wasn't easy there. At school... I was bullied, a lot. I got tough to survive, turned into a kind of bully myself, but I hated it. It wasn't me. My family didn't help; they were always busy, and I felt alone. I came here to start over, to be myself. And I was succeeding, until..."
Her voice broke, but she composed herself.
"These past few days, with all this chaos, it reminded me what it's like to be alone. But with you, with the group... I don't feel that way."
Alex felt a knot in his chest.
Yuki's vulnerability mirrored his own struggle: the loneliness of a monotonous life, the burden of decisions he couldn't share. Without thinking, he extended an arm and hugged her, an instinctive gesture that surprised them both.
The memory hit him then, vivid and disconcerting: the kiss in the high school, the afternoon before. Yuki, scared by the chaos, had sought solace nearby. Their eyes had met, and she, driven by fear or something more, had kissed him.
At first, it was tender, a spark in the dark, but then she intensified the moment, her hands clinging to him as if he were an anchor. Alex hadn't resisted, caught off guard by the surprise and the adrenaline.
Now, in this dusty office, with the echo of zombies scratching outside, the scene was reversed. Yuki looked at him, her eyes teary, but not from fear, but from an expectation that disarmed him.
Alex, overwhelmed by stress, the guilt over the horde, the pressure of leading, let himself go.
He leaned in and kissed her, a passionate kiss that freed something primal in him. Yuki responded with equal intensity, her arms wrapping around him, her fingers digging into his back. Alex's chest thundered, his heart beating to the rhythm of desire. Yuki's lips were warm, a contrast to the cold of the room, and every touch ignited a spark he had buried long ago.
He had never been a romantic.
His parents loved each other deeply, a model he admired but never emulated. His past relationships were fleeting, overshadowed by the monotony of his life as a driver and the social expectations that suffocated him. He had resorted to escorts in moments of loneliness, but that was mechanical, empty.
This, with Yuki, was different. It wasn't love, not yet, but a passion born of desperation, of two souls meeting on the edge of the abyss. Every kiss was an affirmation of life, a challenge to the apocalypse surrounding them.
They broke apart, gasping, their foreheads touching. Yuki smiled, a shy glimmer in her eyes. "I didn't expect that," she whispered, her voice shaky but warm.
Alex laughed softly, his mind clearer now.
"Me neither. But... thank you. For reminding me I'm still alive."
-
[WARNING: MATURE SCENE +18]
-
Alex couldn't pull away from Yuki; the torrent of passion overwhelmed him, a primitive instinct that erased the weight of his visions, the promise to Ron, and the chaos surrounding them.
Their lips fused again and again in deep, hungry kisses, as if each touch were a challenge to the end of the world. Yuki, fervent and surrendered, responded with equal intensity, her hands exploring Alex's torso beneath his shirt, tracing the muscles taut with adrenaline, memorizing every curve, every accelerated heartbeat that resonated like a war drum. Their caresses grew bolder, more desperate.
Alex pressed her against the wall; their bodies intertwined in an embrace that erased all distance. His fingers tangled in Yuki's hair, tugging gently to expose her neck, where he planted fiery kisses, sucking the soft skin until red marks pulsed like promises. Yuki moaned softly, her nails digging into his back, raking the fabric of his shirt as if she wanted to tear it.
"Alex..." she whispered, her voice a husky thread of desire, as her hips moved instinctively against his, seeking friction, heat. He felt the fire in his gut, a raw need that drove him to unbutton Yuki's shirt button by button, slow, deliberate, as if each was a revealed secret.
The fabric parted, exposing the pale, trembling skin of her torso. Alex descended with kisses, leaving a trail of sensations that made Yuki arch her back. His hands moved up her sides, brushing her ribs, until they reached her chest, still covered by her bra. He felt the warmth radiating through the fabric, the frantic beat of her heart that seemed to synchronize with his.
He squeezed gently at first, massaging in slow circles, then with more force, feeling her breasts mold to his palms. Yuki's face flushed a deep red; her eyes narrowed in a mix of shame and pure ecstasy. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, stifling moans that escaped in ragged gasps, her body betraying her with uncontrollable tremors.
Alex, fueled by the sight of her vulnerability, unhooked the bra with trembling but tender fingers, whispering in her ear: "Let me see you, Yuki. You're perfect."
His words were a balm, a husky whisper that made her shiver. When the bra fell away, he pulled back slightly to admire her, his breath caught in his throat.
Yuki's breasts were more generous than he had imagined, full and firm, with fair skin that contrasted with the delicate pink of her nipples, hardened by the cold air and arousal.
Each of her breaths made them rise and fall in a hypnotic rhythm, small tremors running across them like ripples in a pond. Alex searched her eyes for any doubt, but found only an ardent desire, a fire that mirrored his own.
Without further prelude, his hands returned to her, caressing the soft, pliable skin directly, warm like a living fire. The sensation was addictive: the smoothness beneath his fingers, the way her breasts yielded and bounced slightly with each squeeze.
He played with her nipples, pinching them gently, rolling them between his thumbs, and Yuki's moans became more audible, her hips moving in a constant rhythm, rubbing against Alex's growing erection.
He felt the pressure in his pants, a delightful ache that made him groan against her skin. Yuki, noticing the hardness pressing against her intimacy, froze as if an electric current had shot through her. Her eyes lowered, curious and anxious, while Alex continued his assault, licking and sucking her breasts with devotion, his tongue tracing spirals around her nipples, sucking with a pull that made her arch her back.
With trembling hands, Yuki lowered the zipper of Alex's pants, careful, as if handling something fragile and precious. He helped her, shedding his own clothes with fluid movements, revealing his full arousal.
Yuki, still veiled by shame, began to take off hers, but Alex intervened, his hands guiding her gently, kissing every inch of exposed skin. When both were naked, they embraced again, skin against skin, the heat of their bodies merging into a warmth that dispelled the cold of the room. Their kisses were voracious, their caresses exploratory, savoring the contrast: her softness against his hardness.
Alex lifted her easily, placing her on the large office desk. He used his jacket as an improvised pillow for her head, ensuring she was comfortable in the midst of the passion.
He returned to kissing her neck, descending with torturous slowness, his tongue tracing a path down her collarbone to her breasts. He licked them with devotion, sucking the hardened nipples, his hands massaging them with a passion that made Yuki moan aloud, her fingers tangling in his hair.
"Don't stop..." she murmured, her voice breathless, as her hips instinctively lifted.
He continued lower, kissing her flat stomach, feeling the muscles contract beneath his lips, chills running over her skin. Each kiss provoked a soft whimper, a tremor that encouraged him.
When he reached her vagina, he proceeded with exquisite delicacy, kissing her inner thighs first, his fingers tracing the moist contours. Yuki reflexively clamped her legs shut, embarrassed, but Alex calmed her with gentle caresses, whispering, "Relax, let me take care of you."
She yielded, and he explored with precision: his tongue drawing slow circles around her clitoris, alternating directions to keep her on the edge. He used his fingers to stroke the outer lips, feeling the inviting moisture.
Yuki felt ecstatic, her body trembling uncontrollably, hips moving to the rhythm of his attentions. "Alex... that feels... ah..." she whimpered, her words dissolving into gasps.
He carefully introduced one finger, exploring her warm, tight interior, discovering sensitive spots that made her contract. He added another, accelerating the rhythm, his fingers curling to press that spot that made her arch her back. Meanwhile, he moved up to kiss her breasts again, licking and nibbling gently.
Yuki lost control: her moans became choked cries, sometimes in Japanese—"Yamete... tsuzukete..." (Stop... keep going...)—her back arching as her body convulsed in waves of pleasure. When the orgasm hit her, she tensed around his fingers, trembling as if an electric current was passing through her.
Alex slowly withdrew his fingers, letting her recover, his own arousal urgently pulsing. Yuki, ecstatic, looked at him with clouded eyes, her breath like steam in the cool air.
"It's... the first time I've felt anything like that," she murmured, her voice hoarse.
Alex kissed her, his erection brushing her entrance. She, without fear, simply nodded, her gaze a passionate permission.
In that moment, it wasn't just sex; it was a connection forged in desperation, a balm against the horror of the world. Alex, who had avoided deep relationships due to the monotony of his past life—fleeting affairs, empty nights with paid companionship—felt something new: a passion that made him feel alive, synchronized with Yuki in a dance of lost souls.
The echo of a growl outside brought them back, but for one more instant, they clung to the pleasure, ignoring the apocalypse that waited.
.
----
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
First, I'm really sorry I haven't posted any chapters in so long, but two things happened: I was working and short on time, and I was also worried about this first 18+ scene.
I wrote it, deleted it, rewrote it, the translation didn't match, I checked it, deleted it, and retranslated it. And well, this was the result.
If you liked it, comment and I'll start the next chapter with the sequel. If not, well, we'll just continue with the story while I practice for the next one.
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Read my other novels
#Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time. (Chapter 100)
#The Walking Dead: Emily's Metamorphosis. (Chapter 29) (INTERMITTENT)
#The Walking Dead: Patient 0 - Lyra File. (Chapter 9) (INTERMITTENT)
You can find them on my profile.]