Ava awoke to the ground shaking beneath her and a resonating boom sounding in the distance. She leapt up immediately, rushing to the door of the ramshackle shed that she had spent the night in. She stepped out into the sun, shielding her eyes to peer into the distance. A plume of smoke drifted lazily into the sky. She frowned, worry tarnishing her delicate face. Instinctively, she took a step forward, wanting to help.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that there was nothing she could do. She hoped that, whatever was going on, no one had been hurt, but she was only barely managing to survive herself. She'd lost track of how long it had been since the infection had broken out, and the world had fallen apart. At least a few months. The days were getting shorter, and the nights were getting longer. It was still hot out, but the nights were already growing chillier, hinting of the impending winter. She would need somewhere to stay once the harsh cold hit. And some people might be nice to have around, as well. There was safety in numbers, although she was always cautious about approaching strangers now, after the last ones she met had taken all of her supplies and left her for the dead to eat. Not all people were bad, she realized. She thought of her friends briefly, the small group she had been traveling with since the chaos had broken out. Individuals all more adept than her at surviving in this new cruel world, who had helped keep her alive. They were all dead now. Somehow, she was the only one left.

Food. That's what I need, she thought, banishing visions of their last moments from her mind. Food and shelter.

Ava stepped back inside to grab her small, nearly empty pack and the gun she carried but still didn't really know how to use. She paused a moment as she exited the shed again, letting the early morning sun warm her, and staring worriedly at the smoke once more. Finally, with a determined deep breath, she set off. The smoke continued to pour into the sky behind her, black clouds washing out the bright blue sky like an omen of misfortune to come.

With every gust of wind, Ava could smell the acrid odor of the smoke, though it was growing fainter as she walked further in the opposite direction. According to a map she had found at an abandoned travel station, there should be a camp ground up ahead. She wasn't sure how much shelter it would offer, but she was hoping that it might have some supplies that hadn't been touched yet. The sun moved upwards in the sky while she walked down the side of the road, occasionally stopping to consult her map or check an abandoned car for supplies. Her stomach ached with hunger and her feet started to drag. As the sun reached its pinnacle, beating down on her from above, she paused in the shade of a tree, savoring the few sips of water she had left in her water bottle. She laboriously stood back up and set off again, exhausted and starving, her boots scuffing against the pavement.

A familiar groan from the woods to her left alerted her to the presence of a dead one. It was far enough away that she thought she'd be okay, as long as she moved quickly. Ava preferred to avoid them when she could. Despite the protestations of her empty stomach, she moved her pace to a trot. She crested the top of a small hill and saw a fence rising up in the distance. Her hope soared. If the campground was completely fenced in, perhaps she'd be able to stay there.

There were a few of the dead ones meandering around the outside, but she saw an opening and ran for it. She tossed her pack over the top of the fence, and then grabbed on quickly, pulling herself up. Jamming the toe of her black combat boot through the chain link, she started to climb as fast as she could. Three of the dead were getting closer.

Shit shit shit. She was starting to panic. Her foot slipped, and one of the horridly decaying creatures was close enough to grab it. She kicked out at it, connecting with its head. It stumbled back momentarily, but now another grabbed her pant leg. She stifled a scream and kicked again, freeing herself long enough to grab the knife from her belt and forcing it through the thing's decrepit eye socket. She grabbed the fence again and hauled herself up, swinging her leg over the top and dropping to the other side. She hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her. She lay there, staring up at the sky. She was sure this was it. Though she couldn’t feel it, she must have been bitten. Her good fortune had run out.

Finally, she summoned the last of her courage and ran her hands over her legs, checking for bites. She let her breath out in an audible sigh when she found none. Rising to her feet, she triumphantly looked through the fence at the dead one she had felled. It lay sprawled in the grass, facing up towards the sky, a mirror image of the pose she had just vacated. Her feelings of victory faded quickly, though, as she got a better look at it. Her knife jutted out of its eye socket still. Shit.

Ava grabbed her pack and began walking the perimeter of the fence, checking for holes or gaps that would allow the dead through. She’d managed to cover some distance before the angry grumbles of her stomach grew too much to bear. Reluctantly, she ventured further into the campground, desperate for food. A few campers had been abandoned, some still hooked up to the facilities that no longer worked. She stood on her tiptoes and peeked through a dusty window, before immediately recoiling in horror. In the driver’s seat sat a man, long dead, a bullet hole through his temple. Tears stung Ava’s eyes, and she wondered if she would ever get used to the new state of the world - if it were even possible to become accustomed to situations so unnatural. She took a few paces backward, feeling uneasy about letting the dead man out of her sight.

She backed up against something hard, and immediately turned, her hand clutching uselessly at the spot on her belt where she kept her knife. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was only a sign that she had walked into, but it drove home to her how helpless she was out here, alone and with nothing to defend herself but a gun she couldn't aim. And she didn’t have very many bullets anyway. She peered at the sign closer. It was a map, indicating that there was a camp store on the other side of the grounds. She set off to find it, hoping that it had food. She promised herself that she would come back to check the campers for supplies once she was feeling more full, and hopefully more brave.

The store was mostly empty. Ava was clearly not the first person to think of checking here for supplies. The shelves were barren, some knocked over. Disappointment welled up in her throat. She wondered how she would survive without food. She glanced over the few remaining camping supplies, making a mental note to come back for one of the tents before nightfall.

She peeked around the counter and was surprised to see a lone cardboard box, slightly trampled, sitting on the floor. She stepped around the counter and peered at it more closely, trying her best to keep her expectations from swelling. She recognized the logo on the side immediately and greedily tore the box open. Inside were several small yellow bags, promising potato chips.

She grabbed a bag and pulled it open. Her parched mouth instantly salivated as the smell washed over her. The first chip hit her tongue in an ecstasy of salty, greasy perfection. She wolfed down the entire bag, sucking the remnants from her fingers, before forcing herself to stop. She didn’t know when the next time she would find food would be, and she was determined to ration her food responsibly.

Stepping outside again, she decided to investigate the rest of the grounds before returning for her tent and chips. She walked behind the store and came across a small shed. A sign on the outside of it read, “Shower.” She poked around the perimeter, before cautiously stepping through the door. To her surprise, there was a pump next to the shower head. Though she hadn’t done much camping, she wondered if this meant that it didn’t require electricity to work. She gave it a few halfhearted pumps, turned the spigot, and was delighted when a small amount of water splashed her in the face. She set her pack and gun down on the bench hurriedly, and returned to pump more vigorously now. She ached to wash the months of grime from her body. Ava quickly unlaced her boots, setting them on the bench with her pack and gun. She unbuttoned and removed her loose flannel, and then pulled her tank top over her head. She peeled her grime-caked jeans from her body. Lastly, she unhooked her bra and stepped out of her panties.

She stood under the water, completely naked. It was cold, but she didn't care. She threw her head back and ran her hands through her hair, letting the water wash away the dirt, the blood, and the worries that she had accumulated. She stretched her back and inhaled deeply, running her hands over her body. Her smooth skin was covered in goosebumps, and her pink nipples stuck straight out in the cold water. She scrubbed at her short light brown hair and couldn’t help but wish that she had some shampoo and soap. Grabbing her clothes, she scoured them under the water as best she could, rinsing them until the water ran nearly clear. Then she turned the water off and wrung them out. She darted outside, still naked, to hang them in the sun. She returned to the shower, flicking the water back on, and started singing softly. She knew she should save the water, but she was enjoying herself too much. Besides, what else was she going to do while she waited for her clothes to dry? She sang a little a louder, feeling clean and completely carefree for the first time in months.

Finally, the water sputtered to a halt. She squeezed the water out of her hair and ran her hands along her skin to brush the water droplets off. She stepped outside, and the sun hit her full on. She closed her eyes for a moment to adjust to the brightness, feeling the warmth already evaporating the beads of water from her bare flesh.

“You have a nice singing voice, little songbird,” a deep voice said in front of her. She jumped, and her eyes snapped open. Her hands rushed to cover herself, and she quickly ducked back into the shed. “Although I'm not sure how smart it is to be making so much noise. You're lucky it was just me that heard you, and not a bunch of zombies.”

Ava peered out into the sunlight, only seeing a man's tall silhouette against the now setting sun. She stepped back again, hoping to grab her gun. She couldn't make out his face, but could hear a teasing smirk in his voice.

“That's a bad idea, little birdie.” His voice lost the joking tone, becoming serious. “I don't want to shoot you, but I will.” He took a step towards her. “Here.” He tossed her clothes into the dirt a few feet in front of her. She took a step forward, and then hesitated in the doorway. “I suppose I could turn around for a minute. Since you obviously don't have any weapons on you.” He laughed a little, and then turned his back to her.

She darted out, and grabbed her underwear and jeans, yanking them on as quickly as she could. She scrambled to pull her bra back on. He turned back around as she was still pulling her tank top over her head. She pulled it down to cover her bra. Feeling more secure now that she was clothed, she glared at him.

He towered over her, though she was used to most people being taller than her slight frame. She looked over his face. She could tell it had been a while since he had trimmed his short hair and scruffy beard. His piercing green eyes bore into her steely blue ones. There was a hardness to them, belied by a mischievous twinkle. Despite herself, she found him attractive. She wondered what his scruff would feel like against the smooth skin of her cheeks. She shook her head, trying to physically banish her suddenly erotic thoughts. Her gaze shifted, and she nervously eyed the rifle he had slung across his back.

“I need my boots. They're in the shed,” she snapped at him, hoping her thoughts weren’t apparent. She brushed at the dirt which stuck to her damp shirt, reminding herself that he was an inconsiderate jerk who had just thrown her freshly washed clothes into the dirt.

“I bet they are. I bet you have a gun in there, too,” he smirked at her. She glared back. “Tell you what. You stay here. And I'll go in and get them for you. You could run away if you want, but-” he gestured towards her bare feet. “No shoes,” he finished with a laugh.

She crossed her arms in irritation, watching him step into the shed. She could hear him poking around in there, and the rush of water for a moment, as he discovered the working shower pump. She thought briefly about leaving, but he was right. She wouldn’t get very far with bare feet. And she was still lacking a weapon.

He stepped outside again, her gun now poking out of the waistband of his pants. “You know you only have three bullets left?” he asked, as he tossed her boots toward her. They hit the ground in front of her, making a little dust cloud rise up around her feet. “And no knives or anything? How the hell did you last this long?”

She said nothing, only bent over to grab her boots. She took a step back and yanked them on while standing on one foot, glancing apprehensively up at the stranger in front of her. She was surprised to notice his gaze lingering on her cleavage as she bent over, though his eyes darted away quickly when he saw her notice.

“There should be enough water left for you to shower,” she said finally, straightening, now that her boots were tied. “And there are potato chips in the store there,” she gestured. “Give me my gun and my pack, and I'll just leave.”

“And how do I know you won't just shoot me as soon as I give you your gun?” he countered.

“You know I only have three bullets. Why would I waste one on you?” she said bitterly.

“Maybe you want to keep all of these alleged potato chips to yourself.”

“You can go check. There are tents too.”

“Uh huh, and I bet there are -” he stopped mid-sentence, his hand going to the handle of a knife hooked in his belt. He stared off into the distance over her shoulder. She turned quickly to follow his stare. A dead one shambled out from behind the store and moved towards them, still a safe distance away, but alarming, since she foolishly thought that they couldn't breach the fence. Involuntarily, she took a step backward, towards the strange man. She still hadn't gotten used to seeing corpses lurch hungrily at her, and, despite her misgivings, apparently her subconscious found him to be a safer alternative than facing a zombie with her bare hands.

“You really don't have a knife or anything?” he said, stepping between her and the approaching creature. He pulled his knife and stabbed through the top of its head as it shambled closer. He pulled the knife back out with a grunt, the creature crumpling to the ground in a heap.

“It got stuck in a thing's eye,” she said, her face crinkling in disgust and annoyance at the memory.

He laughed, causing her to direct her annoyance at him now, which only seemed to amuse him more. “Here,” he said. He wiped the knife against his pant leg and then held it out to her, handle first. “Just don't stab me, okay? I feel bad leaving you defenseless, if there are more of them.”

She hesitantly stepped forward and took it from him, their fingers brushing quickly before she snatched her hand away, shoving the knife into her own belt. “More?” she said nervously, her eyes anxiously darting in the direction the dead one had come from.

“Did you bother checking the fence before you decided to strip and make a bunch of noise?”

“I checked some of it,” she replied softly, her eyes sinking to the ground as her anger faded, replaced by embarrassment and shame. It really was a wonder that she had managed to survive on her own at all.

“Needed a shower that bad?” he grinned at her.

She glared back, feeling defensive. “Did you check?”

“No, I had to investigate the mysterious singing shower shed.” His face suddenly changed from amused to alarmed. “Fuck!” he said.

She turned to see what he was looking at again, and froze with ice cold terror. Gently illuminated by the pink glow of the sunset, the dead shambled towards them, more of them than she had ever seen.

“We can't fight them. We've gotta go.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her with him as he started to run. No longer frozen, she ran after him.

“This way!” Ava panted, pulling her hand free from his and running ahead of him. She sprinted towards the campers. Grant ran after her, and the zombies continued to move closer. She tugged on the door of the first one she reached, but it wouldn't budge. She turned frantically, to see him wrenching open the door of the next one. She ran towards him, and he yanked her in after him, slamming the door behind her. Panting, Ava peered out the window, watching the zombie horde approach.

“Keys,” he said, pushing her away from the window. “We need the damn keys, or we're fucking dead.” He stepped towards the front of the camper, checking the ignition and pulling down the visors.

Ava moved towards the back of the camper, scanning the counters and the dusty but neatly made bed.

“Come on. You need to move faster!” he shouted at her, now pulling out the contents of the glove compartment and tearing through it frantically.

She pulled open the drawer of the table beside the bed, finding only some loose change and a wrinkled paper back. She glanced out the back window and froze again, transfixed at the sight of the massive horde of dead shambling closer. Her heart sank.

Suddenly, she was being grabbed her by the shoulders and spun around. “I need you to keep looking! Do you want to die here?” he shouted, before seeing the horde out the window.

The sun had almost set completely, but the full moon was already high in the sky, shining down on the dead, which were now too close, surrounding the first camper.

“Well, fuck. I guess it doesn't really matter now anyway. We won't be able to drive through them.” He kicked angrily at a box in the corner of the tiny bedroom, and was rewarded with the sound of broken glass. “Fuck.” He bent down and pulled the box open. “Hey, at least we'll die happy!” he said, his voice dripping with acid.

Ava peered over his shoulder into the box, which was full of bottles of whiskey. It looked like only one had broken. “So what are we going to do? Just get drunk and wait for them to rip the camper apart? Hope it doesn't hurt too much when they eat us alive?”

“Yup,” he replied harshly, opening a bottle. He raised it to his lips, but then lowered it and held it out to her instead. She stared back at him blankly.

The camper shook as the first of the dead ones reached it, smacking it and clawing against the side. Ava flinched, fighting back tears. “There has to be something we can do,” she said, trying to sound as though she didn't want to just lay on the floor and cry. She looked back out the window, at the decaying monsters separated from her by only the metal of the camper. A grisly hand stretched up, scratching at the glass near her face. He was right. They were going to die here.

A tear dropped from her eye, betraying her. She brushed at it and then reached for the bottle. The camper continued to shake as more of the dead collided with the side. She took a swig and choked. “I don't like whiskey,” she sputtered, grimacing and holding the bottle back out to him. He shrugged and took it from her, taking a long drink. Her stomach grumbled loudly, and she was reminded that all she'd eaten today was a bag of potato chips.

She took a deep breath. “I'm going to check the cupboards,” she told him, deciding to focus on this new task, needing a distraction from thinking about their fate. Without turning to look at her, he gave her a sardonic thumbs up and took another drink. She took the few steps back into the other room, and pulled open the cupboard doors. She was pleased to find some canned vegetables and boxes of dried pasta. She tried the sink and the burners on the small stove. Nothing happened, as she expected, but she found a can opener, a lighter and some candles in a drawer. She lit the candles, so she had some light to see by. She started opening a can of corn, as he stepped out of the bedroom and flopped onto the bench behind her, the bottle still in his hand.

The camper door made a loud crunching noise as a dead one charged it especially vigorously. Ava jumped, nearly dropping the can of peas she was opening next. She watched the door tensely, but the noise didn’t continue and she couldn’t see any damage. She set the cans on the table, along with a box of dried pasta and two spoons. She looked over at the man lounging on the bench behind her, meeting his eyes, as he was already staring at her. “Hungry?” she asked tentatively.

“I could eat,” he replied with a shrug, and moved to the chair opposite her. “You're a great cook,” he said sarcastically, eyeing the box of dried pasta. Ava frowned at him, her eyes threatening tears again. “Relax,” he said, looking up at her. “I'm just kidding.” He dug a spoon into the can of corn. “Mmmm. So good. Best corn I ever had.” She smiled at him a little, appreciating his attempt at cheering her up.

They sat in silence, both enjoying their cold canned vegetables the way only people who haven't eaten in a long time could.

“Do you have a name?” she said finally, setting her spoon down as she finished the last of the peas. She glanced up at him, only to find that he was already looking her over.

“Mmhm,” he replied, reaching for the pasta.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” she asked, exasperated.

“Grant,” he laughed.

“I'm Ava.” She grabbed the now half empty bottle and hesitantly took a small sip. She tried not to make a face, since she could tell he was watching her, but still grimaced as she swallowed. “Blech,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Hey, if you don't like it, I'll just have all of it.” He reached for the bottle.

“That doesn't seem very fair,” she retorted. “I don't want to be sober when zombies rip me into bits and eat my insides.” She took another swig, and managed to keep her face still this time. Her belly was starting to feel warm, and her head a little fuzzy. She wasn't used to drinking hard liquor. She drank one more time before handing the bottle back to him. The noise from the dead moaning and knocking against the camper was fading into the periphery of her conscience, barely bothering her now.

He moved back to the bench, stretching his legs out across it and crunching on the dried pasta. “This actually isn't so bad.”

She laughed, and stood to grab her own box, but the room swayed around her. She grabbed the corner of the table to keep from falling over.

“You alright, there?”

“I'm fine,” she laughed. “I just don't usually drink this much.”

“Here,” he stood up, placing one hand on her arm and the other on her waist, and guided her to the couch. He dropped his half-eaten box of pasta into her lap.

Ava reached into the box, plucking out a piece of dry pasta and placing it in her mouth. “This is... not good,” she laughed again, as she crunched through it.

“What are you talking about? It's amazing.” He sat next to her and reached into the box for a handful of pasta.

Ava’s face flushed, from too much drink, and perhaps from being so close to Grant. Hoping to cool off a little, she pulled her flannel shirt off and tossed it onto the chair She leaned back against the couch and stretched her legs out. Grant’s eyes darted over her chest, the neck of her tight tank top dipping low to reveal a good amount of cleavage.

“I should have checked the whole fence,” she said, her mood turning somber as her thoughts turned to the dead outside once more. She unlaced her boots and kicked them into the corner. “I wonder where they all came from. I wasn't expecting there to be so many in one place. I've never seen this many before.”

“They're all probably heading towards the smoke. Did you hear that crash this morning?” He took another drink of whiskey. “Forget about them. There's nothing you can do about it now.”

She reached for the bottle.

“You sure that's a good idea?”

“No, but how else am I going to forget about them?”

He shrugged and handed her the whiskey, which now only had a couple sips left. She sat up halfway from her slouch and took another sip, handing him back the last of it. The camper shook again. Ava flinched and looked at the door nervously, subconsciously moving closer to the stranger beside her. He reached his hand out, placing it on her thigh.

“Hey, there's a book in the bedroom. We could read.” She stood up abruptly, and immediately fell to the floor. Grant jumped up, alarmed, but she rolled to her back laughing. “I'm drunk,” she snickered.

Grant stood over her and extended his hand. Ava reached up to grab it, and he pulled her up to a stand. She overbalanced and lurched against his chest, still giggling. Grant grabbed her arms to steady her.

“I can do it,” she laughed, pulling away and nearly falling over again.

He caught her around the waist, laughing too. “I don't know if you can.” He started to walk towards the bedroom, keeping her upright while she clung to him and stumbled.

“I could have done it myself,” she giggled, as he picked her up and dropped her on the bed. “We need the candles or we won't be able to read.”

He returned quickly with two candles, already dripping with wax and burnt down low. He set them on the bedside table before bouncing onto the bed next to her. “Read to me.”

“Book's in there,” she gestured towards the table, which was next the side of the bed he was laying on, before rolling over and wiggling across him to reach the drawer.

She leaned forward to grab the drawer handle, her torso hanging off the bed and her hips and legs still on top of Grant. She stretched a little further and started to slide off of him onto the floor. “Eek!” she gasped, flailing to catch her balance.

Grant grabbed her around the waist again and rolled to pull her back onto the bed. He landed on top of her, his hands still on her hips.  She stopped giggling as their eyes met, one of her hands resting against his chest. He moved one hand up, lightly brushing the hair out of her eyes.

She pushed against his chest lightly. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“We might as well have some fun before we die,” he responded.

Her hand tightened into a fist, clasping the front of his shirt. He leaned down and kissed her softly. She returned his kiss harder, pulling him against her. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she let out a soft moan, pushing her hips up against him. His hands roamed up her sides, as he moved his mouth to her neck, kissing and licking from her ear to her shoulder. She squirmed underneath him, and felt him growing hard against her. They were hungry for each other. Their fears and anxiety had now all funneled into an adrenaline-fueled passion.

Ava moved her hands down to his sides, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head. Grant grinned and grabbed her shirt, tugging it off, before reaching behind her and unclasping her bra. She pulled her arms out of the straps and tossed it to the floor. He paused and stared at her for a minute, drinking in the sight of her bare breasts in the flickering candlelight. He pushed her back against the bed and looked her over again. He let his hands wander up her stomach, slowly covering her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. He lowered his head, his tongue moving over one nipple as he squeezed the other one between two fingers. Ava could tell he was trying to be gentle with her, but she wanted him hard and fast.

She moaned louder, her back arching, and both of her hands scratching up his sides. She grabbed at his belt buckle and tugged at it. He moved off of her and quickly undid it, catching her sense of urgency, as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pulled his pants and briefs down below his hips, and wrapped her hand around his hard cock, stroking him. He groaned and dug his fingers into her thighs, before sliding his hands up and grabbing the top of her jeans. He roughly tugged her jeans and panties down at the same time and then pushed himself between her knees. Pulling his own pants the rest of the way off, he lowered himself on top of her.

She moaned and arched into him, their bodies colliding. He rubbed his throbbing cock up against her, while she writhed underneath him. He entered her slowly, filling her deeper with every thrust. She bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out, as he pulled back and rammed into her harder. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she moved her hips to push up against him. Ava scratched up his back, moaning louder and matching his rhythm. He bit her neck and groaned into her ear, making her buck against him faster. He pushed himself deep into her, fucking her hard.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” she moaned underneath him, her eyes closed in fervent pleasure.

He pulled out of her suddenly. Her eyes flew open and she sat partway up. “Flip over,” he commanded. Wordlessly, she rolled over and moved up onto her hands and knees as quickly as she could. Grabbing her by the hips, Grant tugged her backward and entered her fast and hard. She let out a little scream and clawed at the bedspread, pulling the now crumpled edges loose. He bent over her and bit the back of her neck, growling into her ear. She moved back against him harder, her sopping wet pussy tightening around him. He straightened again, and smacked her hard across the ass.

“Fuck!” she snarled, throwing her head back and slamming herself against him. He dug his fingers into her hips roughly and continued to pound into her.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck,” she gasped. He pushed her head into the bedspread, as she continued to tighten around him, her pleasure rising. He groaned, one hand on her neck, holding her down, and the other gripping her hip. He slowed his pace, making her squirm, wanting more. She moaned and pushed back against him. He moved both hands to her hips, holding her still while he fucked her slowly. “Harder,” she begged, panting and writhing.

He pulled back a little, before slamming into her fully, keeping her hips steady with his hands. She screamed. He could feel how close she was to coming as she tightened around his cock, her juices smeared down her legs and dripping over his balls. He pounded into her harder, feeling himself getting closer to release as well.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Ava cried loudly, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her toes curling.

Grant seized her by the hair and pulled her head back to bite her neck, as she convulsed with the throes of her orgasm beneath him. He slammed into her violently, his fingers digging into her hip hard enough to leave bruises, groaning. She thrust back against him desperately as he exploded into her, filling her with his ejaculate.

He released her hair and collapsed on top of her, panting against her shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath. The candles had both sputtered out, leaving only the moonlight to cast a faint glow through the window.

“Damn,” he panted, as he rolled off of her, his hand lingering against her butt.

“What?” she giggled, still breathless.

“That was definitely fun. Almost makes being zombie food worth it.”

He leaned down and grabbed the bedspread, which was now crumpled at the foot of the bed, and pulled it over them. She squirmed onto her side to face him, and he reached out and pulled her against him. They both lay there, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her.

The camper shuddered again. Ava pressed her face tighter against his chest. He moved his hand protectively to the back of her head.

“At least we had a good time before being ripped apart by zombies. Right?” Grant asked after a few moments had passed. He looked down at her, her eyes already closed, and her breathing steady. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders and listened to the dull thud of another zombie connecting with the side of the camper. He felt like he should stay on guard, but the whiskey and the warm body beside him were lulling him to sleep. He fought it, but his eyelids grew heavier. As the walls continued to hold up to the assault of the dead outside, he decided that it might be better being unconscious when their fate was determined. Finally, he let his eyes close and then allowed sleep to take him too.