Page 12 of Zinnia and the Zombie
Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced it down. Panicking wouldn’t help either of them.
“I don’t even know what you need,” she said, her hand returning to his face. “Food? Water? Should I try to find help? Is there even anyone to help us here?”
She looked around at the crumbling ruins surrounding them. This place had been abandoned long ago. Whatever civilization had built these towering structures was gone, leaving only these decaying monuments to their existence.
A sob escaped her throat. “I’m scared, Jaxx. I’m really scared.”
He didn’t respond, but she kept talking. Just as in the container, she found comfort in the sound of her own voice, and perhaps he would as well.
“You know, it’s ironic. I spent days talking to you when you were that statue in the container. I told you everything about myself, thinking you couldn’t hear me. But you did hear me, didn’t you?” She wiped away a tear. “And I’m praying that you can hear me this time.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, noticing how silky it felt despite its metallic appearance, and down over his face again.
A tiny shimmer—almost imperceptible—seemed to ripple through his skin when she touched his temple. She froze, staring intently. Had she imagined it?
“Jaxx?” she said urgently, placing both hands on his face. “Jaxx, can you hear me?”
Another shimmer, slightly stronger this time. The dull gray of his skin seemed to warm slightly, a hint of gold returning beneath her palms, and hope surged through her. She frantically ran her hands over his skin, even unfastening his shirt so she could put her hands over his heart. With each touch, the faint shimmer grew stronger. The color returning to his skin was a pale echo of the vibrant gold she had seen before, but it was something.
“That’s right, my zombie. Come back to me.”
A soft groan escaped his lips—so quiet she almost missed it. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. She leaned closer, her face inches from his, and impulsively brushed her lips against his.
“I’m here,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’m right here with you.”
Another groan, slightly louder, and his fingers twitched against the makeshift stretcher.
“That’s it,” she encouraged, taking one of his hands in hers. She squeezed it gently, feeling the faint warmth beginning to return to his skin. The shimmer continued to strengthen where they touched, tiny motes of gold light seeming to dance just beneath the surface.
Keeping her fingers wrapped around his, she used her other hand to stroke his skin, moving from his face to his chest and back to his face. Each contact seemed to feed something within him, like water seeping into parched earth.
“Whatever you need, take it,” she urged, not fully understanding what she meant but feeling the truth of the words. “Take whatever strength I have.”
As if in response, the golden light beneath his skin pulsed more strongly. His breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling in a more natural rhythm.
“I’m not leaving you,” she promised. “You didn’t leave me when I needed you. I won’t leave you now.”
The ruins around them had grown darker as the alien sun began to set, casting long shadows across their shelter. Soon they would be in darkness, alone in this dead city on a strange world, but she didn’t have time to worry about it.
All her focus, all her energy was directed at the male before her—this golden warrior who had risked everything to save her and who now fought his own battle for survival.
“Come back, Jaxx,” she whispered, kissing him again. “Please come back to me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Absolute darkness surrounded Jaxx, but this time he wasn’t lost in it. This wasn’t the endless suspension between life and death of stasis. This was different. Softer. The darkness pulsed with warmth at its edges, drawing him back to something. To someone.
“Come back, Jaxx. Please come back to me.”
Her voice reached him like a ray of sunlight penetrating murky water, growing clearer with each repetition.Zinnia. She was calling him, asking him to return to her.
With her sweet voice and scent guiding him, he followed her into the light.
The first thing he became aware of was her lips against his, and then of her hands on his skin.
Each touch sent ripples of energy through his weakened system. His cells responded, absorbing the ambient life force that radiated from her—not in the violent, consuming way he’d taken it from the guard, but in a gentle osmosis. She was feeding him with her proximity, her care, her warmth.
He tried to respond, to reassure her, but his body remained uncooperative. His consciousness drifted between awareness and darkness until enough of his strength returned to anchor him to the present.
