Come here, Cristian (Patreon)

Tommy and Lopez sat across from one another in the back of the supply truck as it rolled down I-70 out of Nightfall, Colorado. They had not spoken much in the last three hours, both men tired from fighting off the infected at the home of their mutual friend who now drove the truck to parts unknown.

Lopez nodded his head, eyes fluttering. He wanted to sleep. For the first part of the trip the sounds kept him awake: the jet fighters passing overhead, the gunshots, the screams, the howls of the infected. As their caravan left the city limits, the cacophony fell away but it was the anticipation that kept him awake. He sensed another fight was coming, and he needed to be ready. Besides Rachel, he didn’t know who else could fight in this group. The young man across from him (what was his name — Tommy?) looked to be a capable fighter all decked out in guns and knives, but could he really use them? Was he a true survivor or just pretending to be one?

Sweat rolled down Tommy’s forehead and slithered along his nose. It dripped and splattered on the floor of the supply truck. He took a deep breath and stripped off his coat. He had tight round muscles which undulated as like a snake wiggling beneath the skin, and he had tan marks along his upper chest and biceps. Lopez stared. He hadn’t been with a man in a while. Hell, he hadn’t been with a woman either, not since that private during basic. What was her name, Tompkins? It didn’t matter now. The chances of her being alive were slim. She was undisciplined and loud — two qualities sure to get you killed in the outbreak.

Tommy took a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his forehead and upper arms and chest. The small piece of cloth was soaked at the end and he stuffed it back in the same cargo pocket. A backpack sat between his legs, and he took out a canteen, unscrewed the cap, and tilted it over his mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank, and when the truck hit a bump, water splashed across his chin.

Lopez broke out into laughter and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “Y’alright, bruh?”

Tommy paused for a moment and then smiled. “I’ve been waiting to drink until we stopped, but it hasn’t happened in hours.”

“Sometimes you take a chance and spill a little water.”

Lopez shook his head. He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he cringed. What the hell did that even mean, he wondered.

Tommy extended his arm and offered the canteen. Lopez took it and drank in small sips.

“You seem to know how to do it,” Tommy said. “I’m Tommy.”

“Cristian Lopez. I mostly go by Lopez. Only my family and friends of mine from back home call me Cristian.”

Tommy nodded and suppressed a smile. “So what should I call you?”

Lopez passed the canteen back to him but held onto it as Tommy gripped it. “Anything you want.”

Tommy let the smile breakout. “Easy, soldier.”

That was their only exchange for another twenty miles through the Colorado countryside. The sound of the truck’s engine droned on, and Lopez went back to fighting off sleep. At least he had the eye candy sitting across from him. He was a pretty boy, too muscular to be a twink, too clean-cut to be an otter, and not built enough to be a wolf. Lopez wasn’t even sure if those terms were even accurate and never cared for them anyway. Ever since his last hookup joked about types, he couldn’t stop putting guys in boxes. Tommy didn’t fit in any box and that fact alone made him even more attractive. He’d have to get to know this young man.

---

Once the supply truck stopped, the caravan made a semicircle across I-70. A wreckage of cars blocked the highway, so they weren’t getting through. The group of survivors stepped out of their vehicles, and Rachel ordered them all to spread out and stay alert for any signs of trouble. Tommy walked past the pile up and stood on the road with a carbine in his hand. Lopez jogged over to take a spot next to him.

“Sun’s coming up,” Lopez said and stretched out his arms and back.

“Oh hey, Cristian Lopez.”

“You gonna call me by my whole name?”

Tommy shrugged, his lips wrinkling into a smile. “I’m not your friend yet but…”

“But?”

“We just shared the back of a truck for God knows how many hours. We’re more than just acquaintances now, but I still really know you.”

“Fair enough,” Lopez said. He stared at Tommy’s hands on the gun. “Want me to show you how to shoot that?”

“You don’t think I know how to shoot it?”

Lopez scoffed in a humorous way. “You’re not holding it right. First time you shoot, it will jump right out of your hands.”

Tommy took a step back and turned towards the man with a swing to his hips. “Is this where you offer to stand behind me and wrap your arms around mine to show me how to do it properly?”

“That’s exactly right.” Lopez took a step forward but Tommy angled to face him.

“I can shoot okay. Maybe you can show me another time.”

Lopez raised his hands and stepped back, nodding. It wasn’t the answer he wanted but he barely knew the young man and knew nothing of what he’d gone through in the early days of the outbreak. Hopefully he’d find out soon and much more about Tommy.

---

Time sped by in the early morning hours like a vacuum sucked sand through the hourglass. When the caravan tried to leave, the supply truck engine smoked and wouldn’t start. Other cars sputtered with empty gas tanks. They were stuck on the side of the road with no one to call for help and nowhere to go.

That’s when the dead came. Two herds of infected paraded from opposite sides of the highway. Tommy and Lopez took to a field to help defend the caravan and the people they were coming to know as friends. They stood side-by-side along with their team of fighters and shot down the first few waves of the living dead. More of the dead wandered out of the forest, their numbers seeming to double for each one killed before them.

When Rachel called the survivors back to the caravan, she ordered them up a steep hill to gain the high ground from which to fight. Again Lopez found Tommy as the group prepared for the onslaught of zombies. Tommy’s hands shook, and he bounced from foot to foot as he stood at the bottom of the hill. Lopez thought he looked like a real soldier before battle. There was a hard edge to the way he moved and the way he killed, like there was some secret motive to each gunshot. He had a blank stare at each decayed face. He showed so little emotion, Lopez wondered what had taken away his innocence.

Though they fought by each other’s side, the two men were forced to climb the hill as the zombie horde advanced. Lopez ran ahead and fired his weapon from a high point to snipe head shots with the last of his ammunition. He peered through the simple sight on his carbine, becoming lost in the swarm of diseased flesh pushing its way up the hill. One by one his bullets found their marks. When an explosion ripped from the midpoint of the hill, he pulled away from his weapon and ran for cover into a grove of trees.

“Who the hell has grenades?” he asked with a surprised laugh. “Did you see that, Tommy? Tommy?” He looked around for the young man with the brown hair and frosted tips amid the chaos on the side of the hill. He saw Dante fighting back a gang of zombies at the first break of the hill. Kelly was helping Nora along a slope closer to the top. A woman he didn’t know in some kind of leather armor twirled a bladed stick at the lowest crest. Scanning, he could not see Tommy.

Lopez felt a pain in his chest – a burning sensation doubling him over. He touched the spot expecting a gunshot from friendly fire or a shard of exploded debris. Nothing. He labored to breeze from the start of panic setting in. All of the sounds on the hill warbled and pounded in his ears. He wobbled and buckled to a crouch, his carbine dropping by his side. He wheezed as he sucked in air, and his vision tunneled to a pinhole.

Then he saw him. Jamie’s large figure lurched sideways and there stood Tommy maybe twenty paces away. The frosted haired man was staring down at the corpse of a female zombie with a dagger sticking out of her eye. From the far left, another zombie rushed toward him and Tommy remained motionless with his eyes set on the dead woman before him. 

Why isn’t he moving? Why is he just standing there? These thoughts ran through Lopez’s mind. In that brief moment, his vision popped back and his hearing returned to normal. The pain in his chest subsided, and he ran out from the grove.

“Tommy, look out!”

Tommy kept his eyes focused on the infected corpse. The raging zombie ambled forwards, its mouth set in a snarl and clawed hands extended. It crouched to lunge. Lopez raised the carbine, aimed, and fired. He heard the tiny pop of the gunshot and watched as the zombie’s head exploded from the opposite side, raining brownish matter onto the hill. Tommy jerked out of his stupor and glanced at the zombie now rolling down the hill. He shook his head and looked back to Lopez. Even at the great distance and through the gun smoke, Lopez saw the hint of a smile.

They all made it to the top of the hill, and none of the survivors were lost that battle. Some were lost later that day, but that’s a tale for another story.

---

After the sun set past the hilltop and across Emerald Lake, the group of survivors settled into their camp for their first rest. Lopez hadn’t slept in a full day. His back and shoulders ached from lugging gear. He had wounds from earlier fights. Even though he ate at the shared dinner, it wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger. When he saw Tommy go into a tent, none of those pains or discomforts mattered.

“Knock knock,” Lopez said as he stood outside.

“Come in.”

As he pushed back the flap and stooped to enter, he saw Tommy lying in a checkered sleeping bag.

“Well if it isn’t Christian Lopez,” Tommy said with a snicker. “How am I not surprised.”

Lopez sat by the exit of the tent. Even in the low light of a lantern by the sleeping bag, he could see the tussled brown hair, the thick, bare shoulders, and the dimpled chin. He wanted to rush to him. He wanted to tell him of his crush and kiss his lips and hold him in his arms. Ever since nightfall, Tommy is all he could think about in the restful moments. It wasn’t just his good looks or his playful smile but something hidden behind it all.

“So let me guess…you thought you would come in here and woo me with that devilish smile and cocky attitude?” Tommy pursed his lips and shook his head.

“No, that’s not why I’m here. I mean, I’m here for you but…”

Tommy put on a look of concern and sat up on his elbows. “Is everything okay?”

Lopez nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not good at this part.”

“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I like you, not in the way you might think. I don’t want to just hook up for the night. I’ve been doing that kind of crap all my life. With the crazy world outside and the constant threats and not knowing where we might be tomorrow, none of that really matters if all I care about is where you’re going to be. When I saw you on the hill and that zombie almost got you, I lost myself for a minute. It told me that this isn’t a crush. I don’t know how it happened so soon, but I’m laying it out for you. I don’t want to do anything with you tonight but talk. Can we do that? Can we just hang out, and you can get to know me, and I can ask you questions?”

Tommy stared back at him with wide eyes and his lips parted. There was silence for a while and then he peeled back the top of the sleeping bag and slid over. “Come here, Christian.”

Lopez crawled to meet the young man with the brown hair and blond tips, and he climbed in next to him and stayed there until the rains came the next morning.