Angela's Apocalypse Pt. 01

Thanks for stopping by! Below is a zombie apocalypse story. It is a four part story that explores loneliness and loss. It is a bit heavy emotionally. There is also some blood and horror elements, but they don't feature too prominently. This story will span a few different categories. All characters in sexual situations are 18+. Story and character's are mine! Enjoy!

Angela's Apocalypse: The Lonely Existence

September 2043

Only a couple zombies milled around the quiet suburban cul-de-sac. Angela peered through the small opening in the papered windows of one of the upstairs bedrooms. Carefully, she replaced the paper she had held aside and leaned back on the cushioned window seat staring around what was very obviously a young girl's room.

Posters of actors, bands, and musicians plastered the walls, a pastel-colored Bluetooth speaker shaped like a vintage radio sat on a dresser overflowing with clothes and bras. A few completed building sets lined the bookshelf surrounded by dusty dolls. Stacks of books and a handwritten journal were piled on a night table next to the white and pink poster bed with disheveled sheets.

Angela hadn't touched anything in here when she had slipped into the house for the first time, trying to escape the small mob of undead that pursued her. When she had stumbled upon the big house almost a year ago, she was relieved to see the exterior doors still intact.

Her original plan had been to hunker down here for a few days, heal from her twisted ankle, restore her stashes of food and medical supplies then go out to get Heidi back. But, after the choking sobs over the loss of her daughter had subsided a heavy blanket of depression had settled around her, obscuring her purpose, causing her to wonder what the fucking point would be.

The face of her late husband, Joshua, popped into her head and she couldn't fight the relentless tightness in her chest as the memory surfaced in her brain. The memory of him turning back for the bag of supplies that he had dropped. The supplies that had earned him a bite to the neck.

Caleb had quickly lifted his gun, tears streaking down his stoic face, and blew his father's head off before anyone could say anything. Her sweet 17-year-old boy whisked Heidi into his arms, tugging at his mother's shoulder, roughly pulling her along shouting to fucking run.

Angela was too stunned to do anything but follow his instructions and she did for months. In a daze she followed the lead of her son and daughter. She wondered how that had affected her children. Watching as she disappeared into a shell of herself, becoming a numb follower instead of the leader she should have been.

She had failed them both so epically by allowing herself to vanish into her grief. They had lost their father as well. What made her loss so much more profound that she was permitted to allow her babies to take care of her instead of the other way around?

The night Heidi was taken, Caleb had also been killed. Not by the undead. He'd been killed by the living when he tried to protect his mother and sister. When he'd lunged to grab Heidi back from those masked people they'd shot him in the chest.

They didn't even have the decency for a head shot.

Holding her son close as his life flowed out of him was so much harder than losing Joshua; she had no one to pull her from her stupor. Only herself. The task of ensuring her son didn't return as one of those unholy terrors took her last bit of sanity for a while.

A tickle on her face made her realize she'd started crying and she sighed. She hated when the dense fog of depression rolled back, and she felt feelings again. Remembering her family always did that. She decided to go downstairs to the kitchen to find something to eat.

Traps, barricades and snares littered the long hallway and staircase. It had been a force of habit to set them up rather than an act of self-preservation. Since her whole family was gone, she didn't really see the point of living anymore. At least, that's what she told herself. A small part of her, the part that still knew how to hope, told her she could always go find Heidi and rescue her from her kidnappers. But a bigger, more cynical part told her she couldn't do it on her own, or that Heidi was probably already dead or too traumatized to function anymore anyway. That part of her was always so much louder.

Angela ate her meager breakfast perched on the counter listening to the occasional moan from the zombies outside. She stared around the kitchen she had become so familiar with over the last year.

A family photo stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a triangle of cheese, depicted two men kissing with what she assumed was their young daughter making a face just below their heads, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the background. She had taken it down carefully and glanced at the back to see if anything was written there.

Aric, Darin, & Callie (10)

Paris 2032

Angela wondered what had happened to them. Were they shambling around somewhere or had they escaped that fate? Had they joined one of those communities? Was Callie growing up under one of those nutso dictator types or in one of the more equal, diplomatic societies? Were they enduring on the road?

When she could drag herself out from under her depression, when the fog rolled away, the feelings of loneliness and grief too close at hand, she would look at that picture and make up stories about them. In her head Joshua, Caleb, and Heidi were all still here and they were all friends. Aric and Darin loved spending time with her and Joshua. Bar-B-Q's, game nights, happy hours, all of this inside her head wore away a little at the absolute solitude Angela endured.

She had looked high and low for more photos of the family, hoping to make up more stories in an attempt to distract herself. But she found nothing, no family portraits hung on the walls or sat in frames on desks. There was a big empty spot on one of the bookcases in the family room and she wondered if that's where the family photos had been, if that's what Aric or Darin or Callie had grabbed before they left, hanging on to reminders of better times.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she sighed in annoyance as she pulled the plastic lid off a cup of mandarin oranges. She gave the fruit a sniff before she put one in her mouth. She'd gotten food poisoning on more than one occasion and while that particular affliction had been unpleasant before the zombie apocalypse it was decidedly worse after. Trying to keep quiet while your guts are violently evacuating is awful and staying hydrated was a huge challenge especially since she hadn't been prepared for the sickness.

The mandarins seemed fine but had a distinct taste of plastic having sat in their container for longer than intended. After breakfast, she downed a glass of water from her drinking supply and then peeked out a window again.

The cul-de-sac had cleared. Her stores were dangerously low again, something that happened often when she would fall into a depressive episode. Since she could at least function today she thought she ought to go out and replenish them.

After cleaning up in the kitchen Angela moved silently back upstairs to get ready. To leave the house she usually wore black motorcycle pants, a motorcycle jacket, and Kevlar gloves. Goggles, a gaiter scarf and a weather dependent hat on her head. Her dirty blonde hair was short, so it easily tucked into her hat and scarf.

These things where not fool proof as Joshua's death had illustrated, but it was better than regular street clothes and looked more intimidating, hiding her feminine features, making her less of a target for the living who might want to take advantage. The tough fabric of the pants and jacket would slow a zombie down, giving her enough time to get away... in theory. Another image of Joshua flashed into her mind again and her eyes pricked.

She swiped at them angrily, wrestling the memory back into its tiny compartment in the back of her mind. After pulling in a deep breath, she slipped her crossbow over her head and holstered her handgun. She rolled two shopping bags tight and slipped them into her hip pack, before lowering her goggles over her eyes.

Each house in the surrounding neighborhood had been carefully searched for supplies, so Angela had started making longer trips to stores in the area to find food in the last couple of months. The closest one was a twenty-minute walk. The biggest one was a good forty minutes away on foot and probably crawling with undead. She always brought extra arrows of course, but she hated to use them to clear out huge places that were likely to get overrun again. Why waste her energy? Why risk it?

She sighed as she pondered those questions. Since her family was gone, husband and son dead, daughter abducted, she wondered if the energy and risk didn't really matter. After all, she was totally, utterly alone.

The door to a small convenience store stood open. There were two zombies milling around that Angela could see. She shook her head to clear it a bit, then aimed her crossbow and took down the zombies. She waited another moment to see if any others appeared.

When none showed, she retrieved her arrows wiping the tips on the undead's filthy tattered remains of clothing. These were old ones, and she wrinkled her nose at their leathery appearance; skin pulled tight over bones, bald heads and sunken eyes. She shuddered and turned away from them quickly.

Angela managed to find a few things to replenish her stashes, but the small store was rather picked over. She ventured farther down the road to a drug store where she took down five undead with her arrows. She ignored a flyer tacked up on the wall. It flapped briefly at her passing, boasting safety and security.

In addition to food, she raided the medical supplies, reading labels carefully and taking only what she thought she might need. After browsing the shelves her bags were full, so she tied the handles together tightly, then hoisted them on her shoulders clipping them to her with some carabiners so she wouldn't drop anything, like Joshua had... She shook her head again sharply and started to make her way home.

~~

Back at the house, she unloaded her new supplies, organizing them in their go bags in the kitchen and bedroom. Then she cleaned her arrows carefully of anything that might have been left by the undead.

Upstairs, she stripped off her armor and lounged on the window seat in the girl's bedroom, reading a book by the light of a lantern to distract her mind. The watery fall sunlight streamed weakly through the papered windows. She had just set her book aside and was rubbing her eyes trying to decide whether she should eat a late lunch or just wait for dinnertime when she heard the low rumble of voices; strangely, they were speaking voices and not the groan of the undead.

Angela slowly slid the loose piece of paper aside and peered through the small opening. Two men, one slightly shorter than the other, were down in the cul-de-sac staring at each house. They wore something very similar to what she did when she left the house.

Their gaze had fallen on her house, and they pulled down their face masks and goggles. The shorter guy's left arm was clutched close to his body, held in a makeshift sling. He visibly winced as he pulled down his face mask. He wore a backpack, while the big beefy guy carried a huge camping pack.

When the bigger guy revealed his face Angela could see his face had been savagely beaten. Bruises bloomed on his cheeks, one eye was swollen shut and he had a nasty looking cut along his forehead. Both mens clothes were dirty and ripped in places. One shoulder of the beefy guy was wrapped tightly with cloth that was stained darkly red. Clearly this guy had been shot or stabbed or something.

The shorter man gestured towards the house and the taller shrugged looking around the street nervously. Their faces were both streaked with dirt, but the taller man's face was streaked from his eyes to his chin. The shorter grabbed the taller's hand with his good arm and pulled him towards the house. His head fell back as the two approached the house.

They disappeared from view as they walked toward the front door. A wave of fear washed through Angela. She replaced the paper, then fell to her hands and knees, crawled silently to the hallway and listened hard. The front door handle jiggled quietly and quickly. On her first night in the house she had thrown the deadbolt, put the chain in place, and barricaded it with a huge desk from the downstairs study and never opened it again, preferring to sneak out the back door and around the side of the house.

There was silence after the front door wouldn't open. Angela felt another sickening wave of fear crash through her as she suddenly couldn't remember if she'd locked the back door when she'd returned. In general, she rarely forgot to lock it. But she had been so distracted today that she truly could not remember if she had locked it behind her.

Sighing in frustration she crept down the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could, avoiding any windows, even though they were papered over with the curtains drawn. The low rumble of their voices was louder now they were so close. She couldn't make out any words, but the rise and fall of their tones implied some kind of argument.

Quickly, she glanced down at the lock on the door where the two men stood and saw she had indeed forgotten to lock it. She grimaced and lunged for the door just as the knob twisted and the shorter man pushed it open.

He gasped in a quick breath when he saw her and immediately pulled the pistol from the holster at his hip. The taller man cocked back his non-bleeding arm which held a dagger and Angela threw her hands in the air; her weapons left upstairs. How could she be such an idiot?

"Fuck," she squeaked out, her voice hoarse from disuse. "I'm not armed, not undead, I'm fine," she sputtered quickly.

The taller man let out a long breath lowering his arm, but the shorter one narrowed his eyes.

"Are you alone in here?" he asked.

Angela hesitated. She could lie and say there was someone upstairs, but what for? These two could easily overpower her. That feeling that everything was fucking futile was creeping in again.

"Yeah, I've been alone a while," she admitted.

The shorter man glanced behind him at the taller man quickly.

"Mind if we come in to talk?" he asked.

It was Angela's turn to narrow her eyes.

"Talk, then rape and rob me?" she asked bluntly.

The taller man wobbled a bit, and the shorter guy turned slightly to try to steady him. He leaned heavily against the wall, the bandage at his shoulder dripping down the dark fabric of his shirt.

"With my arm in a sling and a bullet in his shoulder? We just want to be able to talk without fear of getting attacked from behind," he snapped.

Angela stared at the two men for a moment. It could all be an act to get inside. But the big guy was awfully pale and slumping farther down the wall, by the second. She swore she saw a flash of pain in his eyes that went beyond his gunshot wound. Angela recognized the look as one not of physical pain but mental anguish. One she'd seen in the mirror over and over again. She stood to one side and waved them both in.

"Thanks," the shorter man said, attempting to help the larger man into the house. "I'm Rhodes, this is Rivers."

Angela balked for a minute as she closed and locked the door behind them.

"Rivers and Rhodes?" she asked, surprised to feel the corners of her mouth quirking up.

Rhodes settled Rivers in a chair at the kitchen table, dropping his huge pack to the ground with a thud. Rivers leaned back clutching a hand over his shoulder. Rhodes holstered his pistol and held Angela's stare, eyebrows rising slightly.

"Yeah," he said.

Angela schooled her face.

"I'm Angela," she said.

"Angela, hi."

Rhodes looked around the kitchen for a minute until Rivers let out a rough sob then covered his eyes with one hand, smearing blood over them. Rhodes scraped his hand down his face and began to turn towards Rivers.

"'Scuse me," he muttered to Angela, his eyes shining like glass.

He turned his back on her and carefully wrapped his arms around Rivers. He rested his head on the smaller man's stomach still wracked with sobs. Rhodes stroked his grimy hair, kissing the side of his head muttering comforting words. He pulled a little at the soaked bandage that was bound around the gunshot wound in his shoulder, seemingly assessing the damage.

Angela felt awkward standing there observing this intimate outburst of emotion. She twisted her hands together then went quietly to her water stash and pulled out two sealed bottles of water. She set them gingerly on the table in front of Rivers.

"Um, my aunt would always make me tea when I was upset, but I... uh don't have any right now, so here..." she gestured to the waters.

Rivers pulled back from Rhodes, dragging his beefy arm under his nose, leaving a streak of snot and dirt.

"Thanks," Rhodes said.

He also had tears tracking down his cheeks, but he seemed to hold it together more easily than Rivers.

"Here Rivs," Rhodes said holding an open bottle for him.

"Thanks, Rhodie."

Rhodes cupped Rivers' cheek for a moment then opened a bottle for himself with a rough wince and took a huge swig of water.

"Um, are you guys, OK?" Angela asked, then grimaced at her stupid question.

"No not really. Besides my dislocated shoulder and Rivers getting shot we - " Rhodes began. A harsh sob escaped him before he took another huge swig of water swallowing down his sorrow. "We lost our kid today."

"Fuck," Angela leaned against the counter. "I'm so sorry."

"He wasn't turned. He was taken," Rivers said, staring down at the water bottle in his hand.

Angela's fingernails dug into the counter and a lump formed in her throat.

"I'm... sorry," she said again.

"We're gonna find him," Rhodes said forcefully, lowering into a crouch in front of Rivers. "We'll find Jax, Rivs. He's..." Rhodes choked on a sob again. "He's gonna be fine."

Angela felt her eyes prick with tears for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. She swiped at her eyes and cleared her throat noisily. She realized she had no idea how to have a conversation with another living person. She had been on her own for so long, drifting in and out of emotions. Did she even count as a living person anymore?

"I lost my daughter," she said awkwardly, trying to connect with the men.

Rhodes' head dropped for a moment then he stood and turned.

"Yeah?" he asked when he was facing her. "When did that happen? Maybe it was the same people who took Jax. Did you see where they went?"

Angela grimaced and shook her head.

"I... um..." Angela began.

Rivers' face reddened and he shot up from the dining chair sending it toppling behind him noisily.

"If you know something you have to tell us!" he bellowed, swaying a little.

Rhodes lunged towards him as the big man planted one hand on the table and leaned on it heavily.

"Rivs, lower your fucking voice," Rhodes said.

"Thanks," Angela said quietly.

"It's not for you lady. It's so he doesn't attract any undead," Rhodes said meanly.

Angela looked down at the ground.

"I'm sorry," she said feebly.

She decided she didn't count as a person; she didn't know how to do it anymore. Rhodes sighed heavily and put his hands on his hips again, staring at the ground for a minute.

"Look," he began, and Angela raised her eyes once more. "Was your daughter really taken?"

"She really was," she said quietly, her eyes swimming with tears.

"OK, when?" Rhodes asked with a hint of irritation.

"Um," Angela thought for a moment. "About a year ago... little longer maybe."

Rivers huffed out an unbelieving sound and groped for the chair he'd knocked down. Rhodes reached down and righted the chair helping Rivers get settled into it again.

"Did you go look for her?" Rhodes asked, anger simmered in his eyes.

"I... twisted my ankle. I meant to though and then... no I didn't."

Her voice was a whisper by the end, her eyes focused on the floor again.

"Unbelievable," Rivers ground out somewhat breathlessly. "Un-fucking-believable."

Angela felt a surge of anger.

"You don't fucking know me, you two fucking guys! You don't know what I've suffered, what losses I've had to deal with. How my goddamn brain betrayed me," she sputtered out trying not to shout.

The tears that pricked her eyes all day finally found release in her frustration and tracked down her face. The weight of their judgement partnered with her own feelings of guilt and all she had left to give them was anger.

"Fuck you guys, you can fucking leave!" she said moving towards the door.

She wondered how she could make them leave. They may be injured but both men were bigger than her, in Rivers' case much bigger than her.

"Just wait a minute," Rhodes said.

Angela finally looked at his face again and saw something akin to remorse there. Rivers winced and clutched his shoulder again. Rhodes held up his hands, a little awkwardly thanks to the sling, in some kind of surrender.

"Alright? Just wait a minute. You're right. We don't know you. We're dealing with our own shit; we don't know each other's stories. I think most pressing right now is getting that bullet out of Rivers' shoulder. Can we do that and then we can sit and... get to know each other?"

Angela's hand rested on the deadbolt, and she eyed both men.

"I have some bandages and rubbing alcohol you can use," she muttered quietly. "But I have no idea what to do."

"It's alright, I can do it," Rhodes said. Angela raised an eyebrow. "We were registered nurses. Mostly worked in the emergency room, that's where we met. I've done this sort of thing before."

"Oh," Angela said. "OK."

Rhodes slid the backpack he wore off his back.

"Do you have anything to put on the table? A tarp would be best. An old sheet is alright, but it's going to be ruined," Rhodes said.

"Uhm, yeah just a sec," Angela replied.

She disappeared into the garage and returned with a large plastic tarp. She helped Rhodes spread it over the table, then he was digging into his backpack pulling out supplies. He had an entire set of surgical tools clean, and shining stored neatly in an airtight clear plastic box, which was in a clear plastic zip top bag. He also pulled some disinfecting wipes from the backpack.

"Holy shit where did you find those?" Angela asked as he wiped down the tarp quickly.

"Just around, I'm careful with their use," he said. "Do you have a plastic bag of some kind and rags you won't need again? There's going to be blood..."

Angela nodded and quickly gathered the supplies. Meanwhile Rivers pulled a plastic bag that contained a small cylinder from his backpack. He wiped his hands with one of the disinfecting wipes then pulled the cylinder from the bag.

"What's that?" Angela asked.

"For me to bite on," Rivers said. "No anesthesia, this is so I don't scream or bite off my tongue or whatever. At least til I pass out."

Angela paled, staring between the two men.

"It's not the first time we've had to patch each other up," Rhodes said.

Angela nodded as Rivers climbed onto the table and lay down on the tarp. Rhodes put a surgical mask over his mouth and handed one to Angela. She looked at it curiously for a minute then put it on as well. After Rhodes snapped on some nitrile gloves, he handed a pair to Angela. She took a deep breath as she worked the gloves over her hands.

"What do I do?" she asked softly.

"Not much," Rhodes said, noting her rapidly paling complexion. "If you feel like you're gonna pass out just sit down. That way you won't hit your head or something when you drop."

Angela nodded and took another deep breath. Blood wasn't her favorite, but she could deal with it. She was determined to help.

"There's gonna be blood. Quite a bit. If you can stand it, just use that stack of rags to keep it from dripping on the floor. If you're up for it, I might have you hold a bandage over the wound while I get the stitching ready. OK, I'm gonna start. You ready Rivs?" Rhodes asked.

Rivers took a deep breath sighing it out slowly then nodded, shoving the cylinder between his teeth. Rhodes looked over at Angela who also nodded and grabbed a rag.

Rhodes began by cutting away the now soaked bandage. Angela tried not to look too closely at the wound as Rhodes cut the fabric of Rivers' shirt. He began to clean the wound and Rivers winced sharply. He grunted and his hand shot out to Angela's gripping it hard.

His eyes were squeezed closed, dripping tears as Rhodes worked carefully and as quickly as he could. His teeth dug deep gouges into the cylinder as Rhodes dabbed away the blood.

"Sorry Rivs, fuck," Rhodes said. His voice cracked, but he remained steady. "OK, worst part coming up."

He picked up a pair of forceps and slid them into the wound. Rivers grunted then whimpered as Rhodes worked, his grip on Angela's hand tightened until she thought he would squeeze it right off. Angela had to look away and gripped hard at the rag she held in her other hand. Suddenly, Rivers' grip went limp, his head drooping towards where Rhodes worked.

Quickly Angela reached forward and turned his head in the opposite direction, the cylinder falling from his now slack mouth. Rhodes sighed out a long breath.

"Thanks," he said without looking up. "I think I got it. Hold out that rag?"

Angela held the rag, cupping it in her two hands and Rhodes dropped the bullet and forceps into it. She wrapped both quickly and set it aside. He ripped open the packaging of a sterile bandage and pressed it the bleeding hole.

"How are you doing?" he asked her. Angela nodded quickly. "I need to hear your voice, Angela. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, I'm hanging in there," she said, surprised at the confidence and steadiness of her tone.

"Great," Rhodes said. "Put pressure on this while I check him. More than that, a lot of pressure," Rhodes instructed.

Angela leaned forward and pressed on the bandage, the blood soaking through quickly. Rhodes checked Rivers' pulse and nodded quickly, muttering to himself. He prepared the stitching then hovered over Rivers again.

"Alright take it off please," Rhodes said.

Angela looked away as she pulled the bandage off depositing in the waste bag. She watched Rhodes working, sweat gathering along his forehead. Without thinking she grabbed a clean rag and swiped it over his forehead so sweat wouldn't roll into his eyes. He glanced up quickly.

"Thanks," he said.

Angela watched him working as swiftly as his own injured shoulder would let him. He winced as he worked, and more sweat popped along his hairline. She realized he was probably in a lot of pain as well.

He finished the suturing and placed a clean bandage over it taping it down. He sat down rubbing his arm over his forehead.

"Fuck," he muttered. "I feel really nauseous."

Angela moved around the table quickly, wiping up the blood that had pooled under and around Rivers.

"Can I give you hand?" she asked.

Rhodes' eyes surveyed her for a second before he nodded. She reached forward and removed his surgical gloves carefully, balling them into her hands before removing her own and tossing them into the waste bag. Then she removed his surgical mask, and he pulled in a long slow deep breath, one hand resting on his stomach.

"It's probably your shoulder. That whole thing probably didn't help with the pain huh?" she said.

Rhodes slowly shook his head, breathing slowly and closing his eyes.

"It'll pass," he muttered. "I just need to rest my shoulder. God it's fucking throbbing."

"I've got painkillers," Angela said quietly.

Rhodes' eyes popped open.

"You do? What kind?" he asked quickly, his face lighting with hope.

"Um, some Acetaminophen, and Ibuprofen. I grabbed some prescription stuff today, can't recall the names though," she admitted.

"That's OK," he said. "I don't think I need the prescription strength stuff. Just Ibuprofen should be fine, once this nausea passes."

"Sure, just let me know when you're ready for it," Angela said. She paused, then began to clean up their makeshift surgery table.

Rhodes leaned forward to help but when his face paled Angela told him to sit back.

"At least get some clean gloves from my backpack," he said. "Just leave the tools in a bowl. I'll wash them later."

Angela nodded, pulled on clean gloves and cleaned up the rest of the mess. When she was done gloves discarded, she retrieved a blanket and pillow to make Rivers more comfortable.

"Is he OK?" she asked.

"I think so," Rhodes said. He'd gotten up as Angela cleaned and checked his pulse again, counting the beats as they pumped. "He'll wake up soon."

"You ready for those painkillers?" Angela asked with a small smile. She was surprised to hear the tone of her voice. Maybe she did remember how to be human, who she used to be after all.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Rhodes said with a tired smile.

~~

Rivers woke groggily about 30 minutes later. He climbed slowly off the table, claiming he felt fine, just a little sore. Rhodes helped him to the family room while Angela gathered some water and stale cookies for him. Once Rivers was settled on the couch, head pillowed on Rhodes' lap nibbling a cookie, the trio began to share their stories.

"I guess we'll go first," Rhodes began. "Rivers and I were together before this whole fucking... virus thing. Met at the hospital, like I said. Got married. We adopted Jax when he was... what about 5-years-old?" he asked Rivers crinkling his brow.

Rivers nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. It was a bitch finding an agency that would work with us," Rivers said quietly.

"Yeah, I mean, there's not a lot to tell. The whole undead thing started; we recognized what it was a fucking mile away. We've mostly been on our own staying in the area. Going long distances without transport is difficult. Especially with a... a kid," Rhodes said a little sadly.

"Did you ever stay in any communities?" Angela asked, sipping her water.

"We tried it," Rivers said. "It didn't really suit us. And so many of them fail, no matter how many safety measures there are. It's hard to consistently lose people. And there were rumors of big groups of raiders. We didn't want to be trapped behind walls if that ever happened. So, we talked about it as a family and decided to leave," Rivers elaborated.

Rhodes dropped his gaze, sniffing loudly, he scraped one hand down his face.

"Rhodie." Rivers reached out to squeeze his hand. "It's not your fault baby."

"I convinced you guys! Jax didn't want to go. He wouldn't say it, but I could see it! He was scared. What 15-year-old would admit to his dads that he's too afraid to leave? I shouldn't have ignored his fear," Rhodes said roughly.

"We decided as a family." Rivers said running his thumb over Rhodes' hand soothingly. "It's no one's fault besides the assholes that took..." his voice cracked. "That took him from us."

Rhodes shook his head fresh tears trawling down his face.

"We'll find him again and when we do, I'm going to kill every one of those motherfuckers," Rivers vowed.

"Do you know who took him?" Angela asked quietly.

Rhodes shook his head.

"They were wearing helmets, all in black. But everyone had a red armband on, with a big S in a diamond printed on it," Rivers said.

"I know who that is," Angela admitted.

Both men looked up at her quickly.

"You do? Who is it?" Rhodes asked.

"They call themselves 'The Safety'," Angela said.

She had seen their flyers and even spotted them wandering the neighborhood looking for supplies. She had dashed from her house, leaving the back door unlocked so they wouldn't break a window to get in. She hid in the greenbelt behind the house until they were gone.

"What do you know about them?" Rhodes asked.

"Honestly, not much. I know their name, recognize their... logo, I guess. They have a flyer pinned up in the drug store down the road saying they offer safety," Angela replied.

"Where are they located?" Rhodes asked.

Angela shrugged.

"They only provided a meeting point and time for each day, not their actual location," she said.

Rivers and Rhodes exchanged a look. Rhodes looked back at Angela.

"Do you think they're the ones that took your daughter?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes," Angela said.

She knew it was them. She had seen the red bands on the arms of the people who had pulled Heidi away from her.

"How old is she?" Rhodes asked.

"She was 13 when she was taken, so 14 now," Angela said.

"Why wouldn't you go after her?" Rivers asked roughly. "I'd go to get Jax right now if Rhodes would let me."

"I... things got complicated." Angela began to relay her story, losing her family, losing herself, almost losing her mind on some days, and the ultimate feeling of futility of everything now. "I mean what's the fucking point? I go get her and if we survive, what we just keep surviving?" Angela asked.

"Well," Rivers said. "Yeah, Angie."

"Angie?" Angela asked, cocking a brow.

"All my friends get nicknames... if you don't mind that is," Rivers said.

She was surprised to see a small smile grace his face.

"It's... fine. We're friends now?" Angela asked.

"You helped me out a lot with Rivers' injury. You didn't have to do that. Besides I think we're going to need each other to get our kids out of there," Rhodes said.

Angela felt tears prick her eyes again and was surprised when it was accompanied by a foreign feeling of warmth and hope curling in her chest, loosening the tension.

~~

Since they were all "friends" now, Angela offered them the use of the large tub upstairs. It was full of non-potable water that she used to wash herself and her clothes and it was semi-fresh. She had filled it at the start of the week just before another depressive episode rolled in.

"We look that bad huh?" Rivers asked looking down at his dirt-streaked arms.

"We did hide out in the greenbelt for a while. I thought those guys were going to kill us and we couldn't do anything for Jax if we die," Rhodes shrugged.

"The water won't be warm, but there's soap and shampoo. Just drain it when you're done. I'll refill it tomorrow," Angela said.

"I think I've got some clean clothes in here somewhere," Rivers said pulling his pack towards him and rummaging around.

"There's plenty of men's clothes upstairs. Choose whatever you want. I'll wash your dirty clothes in the sink down here if you want," Angela said.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Rhodes said.

"I don't mind, but no pressure," Angela said.

Angela led the way upstairs to the primary suite. She gathered towels and washcloths, setting the stack on the counter. After showing them where the soap was, she left and let them strip off their dirty clothes.

"Thanks Angie," Rhodes said with a smile as he handed a neatly folded stack of grimy clothes through the door.

Behind him she spied Rivers' broad back already in the tub making it look tiny even though it was huge. The man's back was mottled with bruises. She took the clothes and was embarrassed when her eyes flicked down Rhodes' body.

His lean, toned torso was covered with bruises, showing her how hard they had fought to keep their child. Her heart twisted in her chest thinking of Heidi and her own failure. Rhodes had attempted to angle himself, so his lower half was obscured by the door. He held his left arm pressed against his body, trying to steady his shoulder as he awkwardly held the clothes out for Angela.

His elbow bumped the door backward and his cock swung into full view. Angela's face reddened as she caught a glimpse of it.

"Oops, dammit," Rhodes twisted himself, pushing the door back into place and reddened a bit. "Sorry."

He grinned sheepishly. Angela sputtered and quickly shook her head, assuring him it was fine, she didn't see anything.

"Rhodes get in here. It's not warm, but it's so good."

Rivers dipped his head back carefully using his uninjured arm to scrub at his dirty hair.

"Keep that dressing dry! And don't get the water all mucky before I can even get in, Jesus," Rhodes said. "See you in a minute."

He closed the door as Angela stood transfixed. A moment later there was a little splashing sound and a groan. Angela sucked in a breath as a wave of warmth gathered in her chest and crashed down through her body moistening the crotch of her panties. She envisioned the two men washing each other tenderly, soapy hands working over skin, through chest hair, down to... She rubbed her thighs together and her teeth bit into her bottom lip.

It had been a long time since she'd felt those particular sensations. She thought of Rhodes' cock sliding into Rivers' mouth and almost let out a little whimper of arousal before remembering both men were on the other side of the hollow core door. She bit back the noise and hurriedly went downstairs to wash the filthy clothes in her arms.

~~

That night, after cleaning up, and getting dressed, the trio ate a small dinner together, discussing what the next day would look like. Angela told Rivers and Rhodes to take the primary bedroom that night. She would sleep in the girl's room.

"We couldn't take your room from you," Rhodes said.

"Please, it's not even really mine," Angela said quietly. "I insist. I think it's the only bed that will accommodate the two of you together."

"We could all sleep in the living room," Rivers offered. "Plenty of sofa and chair space."

"There's plenty of room upstairs. Truly it's fine," Angela replied.

"What if something happens? The undead, what if they get in or if someone else comes around?" Rhodes asked seriously.

"Honestly, I've been here for almost a year completely unbothered. We've been quiet, there's no reason to believe that the undead will take a sudden interest here," Angela pressed. "Besides, we've got the traps and barricades, and the two bedrooms share a wall. We'll be able to alert each other very quickly."

Rhodes and Rivers exchanged a look but finally agreed to take the offered bedroom.

"If you're sure," Rhodes said.

"I am," Angela said with a smile.

After dinner was cleaned up the small group split. Rivers and Rhodes took the primary bedroom closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

"I still feel weird about this," Rhodes said. "I don't want her to think we're taking advantage."

Rivers shrugged as he carefully pulled off his clothes, stripping down to his boxer shorts.

"If we hadn't taken the room, I think it would have just sat empty. She had a point that it didn't make sense for us to not take it," Rivers said as he examined his bandage. "I think I should change this."

Rhodes came over to his side and gently pulled the tape from his husband's shoulder examining the bandage and stitches. He frowned at the sutures.

"Probably," he said. "I'm sorry Rivs, it's not my best work."

"Impressive for doing it right after your shoulder though," Rivers said. "How is it?"

He reached out and carefully rubbed his shoulder, Rhodes winced a little.

"It's better now after the painkillers Angie gave me," Rhodes said as Rivers helped him out of his shirt.

"Help me with this?" Rivers asked gesturing to his shoulder.

Rhodes knew he didn't really need help, but he was glad to be asked. After he pulled some alcohol wipes from his backpack the two men went into the bathroom to clean up Rivers' stitches. Rhodes carefully pulled off the soiled bandage and after cleaning it up a little he placed a new clean bandage over the sutures, taping it down.

His fingers slipped over his husband's bare chest, lingering in the tight curls of his chest hair. Rhodes leaned forward and buried his face there for a second. Rivers wrapped his arms over his shoulders and gently pulled him closer. He planted a kiss on top of his head, resting his nose in Rhodes' clean hair breathing deeply. The scents of soap, shampoo and the natural aromas of his husband blended causing Rivers to sigh, pressing his body closer.

"I fucked up so bad today," Rhodes said cutting through Rivers' initial arousal.

"Shhh," Rivers said. "It wasn't your fault."

Rhodes took a breath as if he would say something, but Rivers silenced him with a soft kiss. Mindful of their injuries he held Rhodes close, letting the kiss linger, his lips parting, tongue pressing forward. Rhodes couldn't hold back the moan that escaped as Rivers' mouth enveloped his own. He always felt safe, secure, home with Rivers. Rhodes allowed himself to melt a bit in the bigger man's embrace, chests pressed together, heat coiling between them.

Rivers pulled away slowly and led Rhodes back into the bedroom. Slowly he stripped off his boxer shorts, his cock hanging heavily between his legs, just beginning to thicken and rise. Rhodes let out a little sigh as Rivers began to unbutton his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly.

"Rhodie, you are the reason we've been doing so well. It's all you, you're so strong, and so smart," Rivers grumbled as he slowly undressed Rhodes.

"Rivs," Rhodes moaned.

Rivers was kissing his chest now, his fingers hooked into the waistband of his underwear, lowering them as he dropped to his knees.

"It's true my love. You have kept this family together. You kept us going. Now I'm going to support you, while you're feeling down," Rivers said looking up from his knees.

He took Rhodes' slowly thickening member into his hand, stroking it up and down slowly. He circled his glans carefully watching Rhodes' face as he ran his fingers into Rivers' hair.

"Ah! Yeah," Rhodes moaned.

"Shhh," Rivers admonished continuing his stroking.

When his fingers were slick from the stroking, he replaced his hand with his mouth. Rhodes moaned again, more loudly than before and Rivers squeezed his thigh briefly as his tongue ran down Rhodes' length, taking him halfway before bobbing back up again. Rivers reached to his own cock, now standing fully erect and stroked himself as he took Rhodes down his throat. The tip of him tapped the back of his throat and he bobbed up quickly.

Rivers continued his slow bobbing, dragging his tongue on the underside of Rhodes' dripping cock. He sucked enthusiastically at the tip, delighting at the slight twitch from Rhodes as he took him deep again. Rivers gagged slightly as he slid down his throat. He paused for just a moment then began bobbing more quickly.

"Ooh, Jesus," Rhodes moaned out breathily, his hips rocking forward slightly.

Rivers recognized the cues of Rhodes; knew he was close. Normally he would stop and draw things out, make him work a little harder before allowing him to fall over the edge, but tonight felt different. Tonight, Rivers didn't want to tease Rhodes. So, he kept up his pace, kept up his stroking of his own cock, feeling the heat build until a fire ignited inside of him.

Rhodes' hips had started to roll forward more quickly, his hands braced at the back of Rivers' head. His breathing was fast and hard. Rhodes brought one hand to his mouth quickly soaking a finger in spit then reached to his ass pressing a finger around the outside quickly.

Rivers could taste the constantly dripping precum on his tongue, it's salty tang feeding that hot fire in him. He might cum before Rhodes did. Rivers moaned as he felt his balls tightening, as he sucked and gagged madly on Rhodes' cock.

"Rivs! Riv!" Rhodes' voice was a whispered moan as he pushed forward.

A burst of salty warmth erupted into Rivers' mouth. Humming with pleasure Rivers swallowed hard, a second burst in his mouth sent him over the edge and he grunted as he sent of stream of cum up Rhodes leg. He pulled his mouth off Rhodes cock as it spurt a third time, splattering over his chin.

Rivers grunted as his cock burst twice more, creating a small puddle near Rhodes foot. He continued to stroke until the fire began to gradually peter out. Rivers took deep breaths, evening out his rushed breathing and looked up adoringly at Rhodes.

Rhodes still panted, his cock dripping slightly. Rivers grinned and licked the tip of it causing Rhodes to shudder and tug his head back a bit. He brought his hand through Rivers' soft hair to his chin. Gently, he dragged his thumb over his leavings and scooping them up. Rivers opened his mouth and Rhodes pressed his thumb over his tongue, which was sucked clean enthusiastically.

"It's been a while," Rhodes mumbled quietly.

"It has," Rivers agreed. "I've missed this. The privacy."

"Another thing I took from you both," Rhodes said quietly.

Rivers stood quietly and pulled Rhodes to him again.

"Stop Rhodie," Rivers said. "We decided as a family. It isn't your fault."

Rhodes sighed cuddling close to Rivers. He still wasn't convinced.

Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of Angela's Apocalypse. Next week part 2!