Page 13 of Zinnia and the Zombie
His eyelids felt impossibly heavy but he managed to force them open, her face coming into focus above him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks tear-streaked, and her lower lip trembled.
“Zinnia,” he croaked, his voice a dry rasp.
“Oh thank God.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she smiled at him. “You scared me. I thought—I thought you were dying.”
“Not… dying.” He reached up with a shaking hand, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “Post-stasis weakness… drained me.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked anxiously.
Warmth radiated through him from where her hand rested on his chest.
“You’re giving me… your strength,” he murmured. “When you touch me.”
“It was the only thing I could think to do. And it’s really helping you?”
“Yes.”
Her smile returned, lighting up her beautiful face, and his breath caught at the sight of it. How could this fragile human have such an effect on him? He should be the one protecting her. He attempted to sit up and assess their situation, his muscles trembling with the effort.
“Let me help you.” She slipped her arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight as he pushed himself upright.
The movement brought her body against his side, soft and warm. Her hair fell forward, brushing his bare chest, and his cock—long dormant—stirred beneath the protective lamellae covering his groin.
Despite his weakness, his body instinctively reacted to her nearness. The instinctive drive to mate had been suppressed while he was in stasis, but now it returned with a vengeance. It was a biological imperative, hardwired into the genetic makeup of his species when they found a compatible female, and Zinnia was definitely a compatible female. But this was neither the time nor the place, and he firmly suppressed the urge as he studied their surroundings.
Beyond their immediate shelter, a vista of crumbling towers stretched across the landscape, connected by fallen sky-bridges and overgrown terraces. Nature had reclaimed much of the city; vines snaked up walls, trees erupted through what had once been plazas, and moss carpeted what must once have been a place of advanced technology.
Something tugged at the edge of his memory—a familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. He stared at a particular pattern in the stonework, feeling that he should recognize it. The memory danced just beyond his grasp, then vanished as quickly as it had come.
“Do you know this place?” she asked, noticing his intense gaze.
He shook his head slowly. “No. But something…” He frowned, concentrating. “I can’t access the memory.”
“Do you think there’s anyone still here?”
He extended his senses, reaching out to detect any energy signatures that might indicate sentient life. There was plenty of biological activity—the steady hum of plant life, the flickering signals of small animals moving through the undergrowth—but nothing that registered as intelligent consciousness.
He shook his head. “No one remains. I don’t think anyone has been here for a very long time.”
“What do you think happened to them?”
“I don’t know. Civilizations fail for many reasons.”
He winced as another elusive memory sent a spike of pain through his head, and she gave him a worried look.
“I’ll try to find something to eat and drink,” she said.
She moved to stand, but he reached out and caught her arm, his fingers curling around the soft flesh.
“Don’t go.” The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. “Not yet.”
“You need food and water.”
“They can wait a little longer.” He needed her touch far more than he needed physical nourishment. “Just let me just… feel you.”
Understanding lit her face. “Of course.”
She settled back against him and wrapped her arm around his waist, holding him close, and his pulse raced in response.
