PLAYTHING

I'm not sure how long I was in the pile of trash. All I knew is that when I woke up from being thrown from the third floor of an office building I had never been so happy to see garbage in my life.

Even if I smelled pretty rank after that. Better smelly than dead.

I looked down at the gun in my belt. I had one gun, and three bullets left.

I didn't think I was going to stay alive much longer, smelly or not.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I tried to get up as quietly as I could. Peeking my head around the mound of rubbish I found myself in was no easy task – ever try to stand in week-old, rotting Thai noodles? I didn't think so - but I managed.

Everything was still.

Like death.

Not funny, Zoey.

I looked behind me, sighing in relief when I saw it was the same office building I had been thrown from. I didn't know what I had expected, really, but I felt relief anyway. If I could make it to the top, or at least part-way up, I knew I could find extra ammo somewhere. If there were no zombies on the streets, it most likely meant that their ranks hadn't been replenished since the guys and I had shot holes in everything that moved earlier. If the streets were empty, the building was going to be, too.

I steadied my nerves as I crouched and tried my best to melt into the shadows.

While wearing a pink jacket, shadow-hopping is a hell of a lot harder than one might think. I know why ninjas wear all black, now... I guess you really can't plan an outfit for the zombie apocalypse when you yourself didn't even see it coming, though.

When I had made it inside, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I hadn't attracted any extra attention to myself, and at least the bottom floor of the building was still devoid of life – actual or undead.

But based off the way my luck had been going, though, what happened next really didn't surprise me. Puked on by a boomer, ambushed by a tank, thrown off a building by a smoker; one last zombie and I could call out 'bingo'. The prize? A pretty gruesome death, at least when hunters are concerned.

I heard him, but just barely. I heard his nails hitting the linoleum floor as he hobbled around like some kind of monkey, crouched low to the ground. I couldn't see him, and I think that's what made my blood go so cold so fast. I could deal with a hunter. I couldn't deal with a hunter who could jump at me from behind, with only three bullets left in my gun and no help.

I swallowed.

Then I took off at a dead run.

Bad idea, let me tell you what. Hunters like the chase, and this one was more than willing to oblige. I tore down the empty hallway, leaping over a few bodies as I rounded a corner. A thundering of sneakers followed in close pursuit, and I could hear his snarl as he bounded closer and closer. I was almost to a private office; maybe if I could get into it and shut the door I'd have enough time to pump a few bullets into the bastard, or at least wound him so I could go upstairs and-

I hit the floor, and I hit it hard. Spots of light erupted in my line of vision, clouding my sight, and the air was knocked clean from my lungs.

Even with the odds against me, I turned over and pointed my gun straight up and-

Fucker was quick. The gun was slapped from my hand faster than I could pull the trigger.

I was backhanded across the face. Added to the fact that I already had the wind knocked out of me, not to mention that my world was still spinning from having my skull smack against the floor, a blow to the head wasn't helping. I wasn't having too great a night.

It only got worse from there.

I felt the hunter's claws rake across my collarbone. My body reacted and I tried to gasp in pain, but I only managed a strangled, weak cry as I tried to refill my lungs with air.

The hunter's hand went around my throat, cutting off my air supply. He was on top of me, his knees on either side of my hips, his body crouched over mine.

This was it. This was the end.

I saw his other hand swing back, his claws spread out as he readied to tear me apart.

My breath stopped. My heart stopped. My world stopped.

Because he stopped.

It was a flash of movement I hardly saw: one moment he was preparing to rip me apart, and the next he had my hands pinned by the wrist on either side of me and his face against my neck. I suddenly felt the sharp points of his teeth against my skin, near the tear in my collarbone he had caused.

Oh, shit. I wasn't going to be ripped apart. I was going to be bitten apart.

And then, for the second time in ten seconds flat, my world jerked to a screeching halt.

He didn't bite me.

He took a deep breath against my skin and pressed his lips against my neck.

Oh, God. I was in deep.

I started to shake. Then again, I think anyone put in a position like mine would start to break.

And that's when my world began to nosedive. I lost all of my senses where the outside world was concerned. All I could feel was his skin against mine. All I could hear was his breath against my ear.

I felt his teeth rake a trail across my neck. His deep, throaty sounds echoed in my ear as a wave of goosebumps erupted all over my body.

I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what was going to happen.

All I knew is that this hunter apparently had a thing for living flesh.

My pink zip-up sweater was torn off me in the blink of an eye as his hands left my wrists and made fast work of the shirt. The zipper scraped my cheek as he pulled it apart, at one point using his teeth to tear the fabric off of me. I squealed, realizing just what he was doing.

I was down to my t-shirt, and goddamn if he was going to get me out of it without a fight this time. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and I pulled back and brought my hand across his face. The impact was hard, sudden, and stopped him dead.

Then he growled.

I'd pissed him off.

Grabbing another handful of my shirt, the hunter leaned down and pressed his face against my neck again, but this time, instead of a simple kiss, his tongue lashed out and lapped at my skin. A deep rumble in his throat sent shivers down my spine. My skin prickled all over as I finally realized what was going on.

I hadn't pissed him off. I had turned him on.

A zombie with an itch for living flesh. Who knew?

I heard my shirt begin to rip as the hunter pulled the fabric in two difference directions.

That was as far as he got. The movement caught the both of us by surprise. I always thought that the hunters had superior senses, but apparently - having been distracted, I was sure - this one hadn't heard the smoker enter the room. That's why it was such a shock when the hunter was pulled off of me in such a quick, violent manner.

I pushed myself up to my elbows, watching as the hunter gripped the smoker's tongue that was wrapped around his waist. Using his claws, the hunter easily dispatched the tongue. He roared, whipping around, teeth bared.

The smoker tried to bellow in return, but as soon as he had opened his mouth the hunter had leaped. I heard the sound of flesh rending flesh asunder and had to turn my head. Shooting a zombie was one thing. Watching as one was disemboweled was another.

As I turned my head, I noticed, with a small sense of smug satisfaction it was to be added, that the smoker who was going to have his ass handed to him had been the same one who had thrown me from the building in the first place. I could tell from the still-fresh stump at the base of his shoulder.

I threw up what little I had in my stomach when I heard the sound of the smoker's neck being snapped. I turned and rolled over, hoping I could spot my gun somewhere close. If I could catch the hunter by surprise I might be able to put my last few bullets to good use. I spotted my gun, but it was too near the hunter's feet for him not to notice were I to reach for it. Shit.

The hunter wasn't satisfied with merely snapping the smoker's neck. I watched, horrified, as the hunter pulled the smoker's head clean off his shoulders with a violent jerk.

Putrid smoke instantly spewed forth from the gaping hole on the smoker's neck as his lifeless body fell to the floor.

I inhaled sharply, hoping to hold my breath long enough to escape the cloud of smoke, and tried to push myself to my knees. I put pressure on my left foot and immediately regretted the decision. Pain shot through my leg and I crumpled to the floor, sucking in a deep breath of the smoke as I collapsed.

Shit. I had twisted my ankle, most likely when I had been pounced on by the hunter.

My eyes watered and my lungs burned. I squeezed my eyelids shut and tried not to breathe.

I felt hands from somewhere grab onto me, an almost gentle grasp that pulled me up off the floor and cradled me as I coughed and wheezed. I felt strong legs running beneath me, freeing me from the encasement of smoke.

I dared to open my eyes and look up.

I wish I hadn't.

The hunter was carrying me, and his face held the distinct and heavy expression of deep concentration. Either that, or he was extremely pissed off.

I took a deep breath.

And proceeded to scream as loud as I could.

The hunter was undeterred, and didn't even flinch as I tried to struggle against his grasp. His hands were like iron, keeping me pressed as close to him as I thought physically possible. My body was shaking too hard- I couldn't bring my free hand up far enough to slug him in the face, though I wished I could.

Then he jumped.

I was so glad I had puked earlier. At least I had stopped shaking. The sheer second of weightlessness I felt at the peak of the hunter's jump made my stomach turn. The rush I got on the trip back down made my insides leap to my throat.

I screamed again as we leaped into the air one more time. When we touched back down, my position was altered and I was slung over the shoulder of the hunter, my front pressed against his back, my hands held tightly together by one of his. I knew what was coming- we were going to jump again, and there wasn't much I could do about it. I gripped his hips with my knees, cursing under my breath as we took off into the sky again.

He jumped damn high this time, toward the side of a building. He grabbed hold of some window molding to steady himself, then kicked off again, me hanging off of his back feeling like a rag-doll.

I closed my eyes to keep from becoming too nauseous. We jumped a few more times before we stopped. The sound of a sliding door rang out through my ears, and when I opened my eyes I was surprised to see the hunter using the handle and entering the room, albeit from the balcony, instead of smashing it down.

We bypassed the couch and headed into an open doorway. Again, I was forcibly moved from my position, but this time I was to be let down. Too bad it wasn't as softly as I had hoped. I was plopped down, quite unceremoniously, on the edge of the bed.

My heart started to hammer in my chest as I realized just where I was.

In a bedroom. In the dark. Alone with a zombie. Who had, only minutes before, been trying to get into my pants.

I clutched by shirt against me and scrambled to press myself against the headboard, as far away as I could manage from the hunter. My ankle was throbbing, but I ignored it as best I could considering the circumstances.

He crouched at the end of the bed, and for a moment I thought he was going to pounce. But then I saw him wringing his hands. His head moved from side to side, and I realized, with a lump in my stomach, that he didn't know what he was going to do. He was confused.

I watched him lean forward and press his head against the edge of the bed. He let out a heavy sigh, as if there was something deeper going on underneath his skin and inside of his brain.

What a stupid idea, Zoey.

He stayed still and simply watched me, chin resting on the far end of the mattress.

I just sat there, staring back at him, shaking. I let out a quaking breath, completely floored as far as ideas to escape go. I opened my mouth like I was going to say something – anything – but the sharp whining sound that the hunter made caused me to shut my lips quickly.

I was, to be completely honest, scared shitless as I watched him move toward me.

He stood, slowly, and rested one of his knees on the edge of the bed.

I tried to gather my legs up under me, hoping to compress my body into a smaller area so I could get farther away from him.

Pausing, he tilted his head at me. He made that same sharp whining sound, and I shrank back again, smacking the back of my head against the headboard. I let out a low curse and bit my lip.

He put his other knee on the bed, and dropped to all fours in front of me. The light that was filtering through the broken mini-blinds covering the window illuminated the bottom half of his face, the part that was usually always visible on a hunter. His mouth, however, was closed, and his teeth thusly hidden away from me. Once more he made that whining sound as he reached out a hand toward me and shifted his weight.

He was trying to get closer to me.

I closed my eyes and turned my head, prepared for the worst. Was he going to bite me? Was he going to scratch at me? I was shaking so hard I was having trouble breathing. I started to cry, choking on my own tears.

I don't know how long I sobbed for, but my death never came, by his teeth or his claws. Finally able to gather up enough courage, and more than a little pissed of that he seemed to be playing with me, I opened my eyes to look at him.

He was curled up, near my feet but not quite touching me. His head shifted when I looked at him, and even though I couldn't see his face I knew he was looking right at me.

“Are you going to kill me or what, you stupid fuck?” I know it wasn't the smartest idea to taunt him, but I was too far off the deep end to really care what fell out of my mouth.

He whined again, then laid his head back down on the mattress near my feet.

Shit. I was in deeper than I thought.