The Zombie Zone Act 2 Pt. 05

"Teddy..."

Her plush body pressed on his backside. Without clothes on, they could feel one another properly: her pillowy breasts, his muscles, her thick hips, his firm butt. Instinctually, their hands explored. She massaged his abs, thighs, and pubic area -- never going for the goal. He squeezed and rubbed her curvaceous sides, smooth stomach, and plump ass.

They held a deep seeded desire. One that developed through wary glances, wandering daydreams, and subconscious solicitation.

He denied it due to love.

She was afraid of it due to anxiety.

The stresses of life and death lowered those inhibitions. He found her mound and dug his fingers into her slit. She drifted onto his shaft and gripped its girth.

"Theodore, I don't know how, but I'm here with you," Hanover whispered into Theo's ear. He couldn't move or see; he just knew where she was and how she felt. She promised, "I'll find a way to reach you again."

Theo opened his eyes. Based on the angles of the walls and high ceiling, he was in a corner.

"Theodore?"

Jenah sat next to the medical bed he laid in. However, she was blushing, and her eyes darted towards his legs.

Theo could feel the familiar, morning tension. He raised a leg and tilted his body slightly to hide the erection. With some grogginess, he apologized, "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Autumn had the same issue while he recovered," Jenah remained composed.

It then dawned on Theo that he was inside the shelter again. The place was bustling and sunlight poured through the doors and windows. He raked his brain, "What happened?"

"Rivera said you fell unconscious. We brought you in and you slept throughout the night. We're getting ready to leave now," Jenah explained.

Theo checked his right; he saw his mother. On his left, Natalie quietly snored on a medical table. It didn't look comfortable and she sprawled out like a starfish, but was sound asleep. Drool dripped onto the table.

"She said she wouldn't leave your side. The medical staff couldn't keep her away," Jenah informed.

"Huh, she's an odd one," Theo sat up. Aside from the usual sluggishness of sleep, he felt refreshed. Better than he had over the last week. Though everything pointed to something with Hanover, he decided to keep it to himself, "I guess I just needed some sleep. I feel fine now."

"That's hopefully all it was. Let's get you a bite to eat and hop on the bus," Jenah offered a hand.

Theo could hear the doubt in Jenah's tone. He stuck to his guns; he didn't want to involve anybody with his internal, ghostly affair. He took the hand and stood.

At the same time, Natalie lurched up with the grace of a disturbed horse, "Breakfast?!"

Jenah grimaced, but Theo nodded, "Yeah, you hungry?"

"Y'know it!" Natalie scooted from the table. She twisted to land on her feet, but doing so made her skirt catch under her hips. It drew up and revealed her bare ass to the whole room. Jenah used a hand to block the view, while Theo pitied the clumsiness. She nonchalantly gasped and corrected her clothes.

"Why aren't you wearing underwear?" Jenah asked, disgruntled.

"Oh, I lost those a while ago," Natalie shrugged.

"We can find you another pair," Jenah became more annoyed.

"No, thanks. I only wear stuff I make myself," Natalie modeled her patchwork style. Jenah gave up, and thus, Theo moved his pity to her.

The cafeteria boomed with voices, since most of the shelter shared the same morning notion. Clergy members from the Last Saints served the line that stretched out into the divider hall. People chatted, talked about plans, and spread rumors about the new arrivals. Theo saw Tony happily eating with his family. Jenah explained that Tony would be staying. Theo didn't mind; it made him wonder if his dad would want to join them.

Damian and his team shared a breakfast together, looking more civilian than soldier. Damian spotted Theo, saw his health, and nodded. The acknowledgement was reciprocated. Natalie made eye contact with Olivia and winked. The female soldier appeared mortified and stared down into her eggs.

Jay waved them down and saved them a spot to sit. He was glad to see Theo recovered and eating well. Though not conventional, there was a layer of normalcy to the meal. No impending threat, no escaping or running, no fires to avoid.

Theo relished the moment, for he knew what today could hold.

Sebastian entered the cafeteria and made himself known upon his approach, "Guid mornin'! Noo that wis a michty guid sleep. Naethin' like sleepin' on ceramic fluirs tae rejuvenate the muscles!"

"Here, here!" Natalie held her small milk carton up like a stein.

"Right, lads, the bus is ready tae gang. Who's a' comin'?" Sebastian asked.

Jenah, Theo, Natalie, and Benny held up their hands. Theo sensed it before it came. Jay glanced towards him, slightly hurt, "Are you sure, son? You just got here."

"Hank and Autumn are over there. I'm sure," Theo, a bit guilty from his dad's worry, nodded. Jay put his fork down and looked more dejected than ever. With a hardened expression, he left. Theo called for him, but Jay didn't stop.

"Are ye shuir, Theodore?" Sebastian asked.

Theo wouldn't be able to rest well if he didn't, "Yeah, I am."

"Awrite, an' Benny, I want ye tae stay here," Sebastian turned to his son.

Benny looked offended and surprised, "What? Why? I always go out with you. I'm your spotter, paw!"

"Aye, but efter that wee run-in wi Anna Lisa's fowk, I'd be mair comfortable wi ye helpin' oot here. In fact, I'd like for ye tae get wi Tony ance we leave. He'll need a haund navigatin' the place. If ye dinna mind..." Sebastian added to lessen the blow.

Benny wanted to argue, but once the reason was stated, he simmered down, "Yes, paw."

Damian overheard the conversation. He kept the volume down and asked his team, "Did anything stand out to you yesterday night?"

"Tyrch and I took watch. None of the six did anything but sleep or cry," Olivia informed.

"The church never closed. I found that to be odd. You could hear the faint music of the Last Saints like a haunting hum. Gave me goose pimples," Peter shuddered. "If we wanted to try and execute protocol, we'll have witnesses, day or night."

Damian nodded, "It helps out in a way, though. The doppelganger will have less chances to act. Protocol may have to be shelved until a critical moment."

"I can spend time snooping on the Last Saints," Olivia volunteered. She held her crucifix necklace, "I need to take care of some things, anyways."

"Very good. Corporal Tyrch?" Damian switched view to the Guardsman.

"Ready when you are, Captain," Tyrch was finished with his meal.

"You don't have to call me that. Just call me Damian."

"Captain, can I ask a favor before you leave?" Peter asked. Damian gave his undivided attention, "Those who died need to be remembered."

"A sendoff..." Olivia understood and agreed with the subtext.

Breakfast rounds came to an end. The escort team gathered their things and headed outside. Sebastian brought the bus out of the treeline. He and Benny inspected the defenses and tightened up any loose parts.

Sebastian told Damian and his team where they could hold their tribute. Near the front entrance of the church was a memorial wall. There were burnt out candles, pictures of loved ones, and small crosses left by the Last Saints to etch names onto. Numerous crosses were already set up. Gifts were strewn about; personal touches for the departed.

Olivia and Tyrch lit candles for their fallen. They etched names into crosses to join the ever-expanding list of dead. She wrote out Lily, Akira, Matthew, and Pleasure's names and signs. Tyrch wrote out the names of his beloved platoon members. Afterwards, they kneeled and prayed.

Peter and Damian stood back and reflected in their own way. Peter's remorse showed, "We didn't even grab their tags. Their families will never know. Fuck... they might be dead, too."

Damian watched Peter silently break down. His comment included his own family. Damian thought of his father, sister, and nephew. Without a word, he laid a hand on Peter's trembling shoulder.

Inside, Theo fastened his clothes and a borrowed backpack. Jenah and Natalie waited for him near the entrance, but his dad interceded. Jay held out his hunting rifle, a gorgeous Remington, and a small pouch of bullets, "Take this before you go. Make sure to clean it every night after use. Watch the kickback; the 300 Winchesters pack a serious punch."

Theo took it, but something felt wrong, "Why are you giving me your rifle?"

"Because it's better in your hands. Age is catching up to me and my shots have been faltering. It's reliable and there are bigger threats out there than any zombie that wanders up to the shelter," Jay rationalized. It was a bittersweet departure for the once avid hunter. However, he took a mental picture of Theo holding it. It sparked pride in him, "Somewhere along the way, you grew up without me even realizing it. I won't stop you from doing what you want to do. Make me proud, son."

Theo slung it to his back and, due to the emotions, awkwardly said, "Thanks, dad."

Jay saw the vulnerability and it made his appear. He went ahead and hugged Theo, "Love you, son."

Theo hugged him back, stung by embarrassment, "Love you, too, dad. Make sure mom's up and ready to welcome us back."

Jay liked the send off and promised he would. He waved them farewell as they stepped out of the shelter.

Outside, Olivia and Peter handed off their gear and equipment to Damian and Tyrch. They reserved handguns and one M4, which Peter claimed as the shelter's new, armed sentinel. The rest, including the grenades and tactical gear, went to the transport team.

Tony and Benny waited for Theo's group near the bus. They had to squint against the sun rays that beamed between the clouds. Tony said, "I wish I was coming."

"We'll be fine, Fox. Take care of yourself," Jenah reassured him.

"Find the copycat and we can call it even," Theo tried to ease the officer.

"Yeah, easier said than done. I'm counting on you two. Good luck," Tony chuckled at their confidence. He shook their hands, though Natalie just hugged him for no reason, and watched them off. Benny wished them luck and said goodbye to his dad. Sebastian lit up a cigar and revved the engine. The battle bus lurched forward and they departed.

Benny faced Tony, "Paw said he wants me to help you out with something."

"Well, technically I do. It has to do with the doppelganger."

Benny's eyes bugged with juvenile interest, "We're hunting the skinwalker?"

"I'll explain more inside," Tony gestured to Benny to keep the issue on the low.

Inside, Olivia entered the church. Her passage through the interim hallway brought on a sense of judgement. Images of holy men and women all bore witness to her arrival. Her stride shortened, the guilt became heavy, and she knew why.

The pink-haired temptress snatched her soul. The invite to release stress in a sullied fashion made her guilt-ridden.

The connecting corridor led into another open hallway that curved towards the front of the church section. This side entrance allowed Olivia to see into the central auditorium. Pews at increasing elevations were aligned in three large sections. They all peered down to a stage where sermons and services were given.

The light brown wood panelled walls were easy on the eyes. The mahogany floors echoed with each step. A few of the clergy passed by Olivia to and fro. The women all wore the same leg-revealing robes. The men wore traditional robes with mantle, but without gloves like Father David. Each of them wore the halo collars.

Olivia stood out like a sore thumb. So much so that two individuals came up behind her and one asked, "You lost?"

Olivia turned to find Heya and Koraline. Heya was the one who asked, but Koraline bowed slightly, "Welcome, sister. How may we be of service for you today?"

Name: Koraline Chase

Height: 5'6 Weight: 151lbs Age: 20

Hair: Medium bob, dirty blonde

Body: Healthily thin

The monotone question came from an airy voice. It sounded like the robe squeezed her as tightly as a corset. It made Olivia uneasy, or perhaps it was because she faced somebody of considerable cleanliness. The robes, the sandals, the face -- all were untouched in the apocalypse.

"I'm just looking around. Trying to get familiar with everything," Olivia stayed aloof. She had a mission and wanted to try and use it as a honing point.

"They're holding an open sermon for the faithful. Would you like to join us?" Heya asked. "I tried dragging Tony along, but he's doing something for Jane. He is too work-focused."

"Trust me, I understand that," Olivia laughed nervously.

"Please, attend with us, sister. I'm sure it will rekindle your spirit and help you in these trying times," Koraline encouraged.

"Something seems off repurposing the church for all religions. I mean - no offense, sister - but your ministry's celebrates sin," Olivia denoted.

"We do not claim this church," Koraline took no offense. She barely seemed bothered, "It would be unjust to hold it hostage or demand anything of the people. We are fond of our edicts and oaths, but we will not stand in the way of you and your Father. Expression is a core tenant of the Last Saints; we accept all paths equally."

Spiritual reconnection sounded better than whatever rot ate away at Olivia. She needed to cleanse her soul of Natalie's taint, "It might be good for me..."

Koraline changed her posture and put a hand up next to her mouth, to block anybody from seeing her talk. It was comically obvious, as was the whisper, "I mean, if it ain't your jive, you can jus' leave. The Last Saints have a big honkin' turnover rate. Do your thang and skedaddle."

The human beneath the guise made Olivia giggle. She let out a sigh and embraced the Spirit, "Lead the way, then."

The trio of women entered the auditorium and awaited service.

***

The bus screeched to a stop on the main highway that cut through Hansel. They were only twenty minutes from Opal Row.

Unfortunately, there was an obstacle in the middle of the road.

She kneeled in the street, wailing and crying. One arm covered her otherwise exposed bosom, since her striped dress was mangled. The other waved, beckoned, and reached out to nobody in particular. Though the bus was in clear view, it's as if she didn't see it.

Sebastian and Theo stared ahead, unnerved by the predicament. They both had the same thought, but Theo said it first, "Something isn't right. A trap, maybe?"

"It has tae be," Sebastian didn't say it with certainty.

"It is," Damian chimed in. His advance made Theo stand aside, "Look at her feet."

They followed the woman's spectacular, curvy body. It was hard to tell by her kneeling, but they saw a glimpse of what he meant when she pandered to the left or right. Her ankles merged with the cement, gradually blending colors.

"Fuckin' hell?" Sebastian took his cigar out so it wouldn't drop after gawking.

Damian gestured for Sebastian to open the door. He did, but Damian only leaned out enough to aim his 10mm. With marksman precision, he shot the woman in the torso.

She retracted like the branch of a tree, but her wailing and expression didn't change. What did change was the ground beneath her. It writhed sideways and its camouflage faded. It was like a crab with no eyes, but fleshy and covered in slick film. The woman was one of its arms, while the second was a mass of seaweed-like tentacles. Four pairs of legs made it scuttle away from danger. The fake woman dragged along the ground, bleeding profusely.

"It's a mimic. They change their arms to look or sound like different things, commonly attractive people, a baby, vehicles, etcetera," Damian stepped all the way out of the bus. He did a scan of their surroundings for any other standout problems.

"Seriously?" Theo found it absurd how so many of the monsters either hid in plain sight or, like zombat, were outwardly abhorrent.

"Yep, there's a reason why we struggled so much," Tyrch spoke on behalf of the military.

"Is it safe tae keep gaun?" Sebastian asked.

Damian readied his rifle and gestured for Tyrch to join him, "We have to kill it. Can't risk it giving chase or ambushing us on our way back. We'll handle it. Sit tight."

"I can help," Theo offered.

"No, stay here," Damian denied. It angered Theo, but the commander made a good point, "We need firepower on both ends. In case something else crops up. Take the crow's nest and put that rifle to good use."

Theo reserved himself to fight back. He nodded and went to the back of the bus. Jenah posted up near a window, doing her best to ignore Natalie's jaunty whistling. Sebastian checked his shotgun to be safe.

Damian and Tyrch followed the grooves in the ground where the Mimic lurked. Bloodstains trailed towards an abandoned line of clothing stores. The front of one was bent outwards, as if a large object shoved through. The blood dotted into the unpowered establishment.

Damian turned his rifle's flashlight attachment on. Tyrch did not have one, so he followed close behind the commander.

Floor shelves, stacked high to hang clothes on, divided the clothing store. Mannequins and simple metal racks made up the bulk of the floor plan and obscured their view even more. The flashlight sent shadows along the walls and drew the eye whenever one moved too fast.

"First a doppelganger, and now a mimic. Why can't they just be normal ass boring zombies?" Tyrch complained.

"Focus," Damian didn't like him making noise.

One of the mannequins moved its head slightly to follow Damian. He snapped his flashlight on it; it never did turn his head. He was just seeing things in the dark.

"What's wrong?" Tyrch, his weapon aimed at it, asked.

Damian blinked hard to clear his vision. He steeled himself and moved on, "Nothing. I thought I saw it move. Watch for slight motion, but be careful."

They maneuvered through the store carefully. Every rack corner rounded was met with the aim of a rifle and a finger by the trigger. They reached the back of the store.

The shelving units were traded out for glass displays and a checkout counter. Changing rooms were to the right, and a door to the back -- currently propped open -- was on the left.

Damian zeroed in on the open door. He flicked his flashlight to the ground occasionally. The blood spots became more sparse, but more speckles coated the bottom corner of the door. He examined it and mentally pictured how the blood dripped in an erratic way. It looked more like it was sputtered.

"I'm starting to get a bad feeling. Maybe we should hang back. I can kite around the building. Try and head it off," Tyrch suggested.

"Corporal, I need you to remember your training and duty. We do not divide when faced with a Freak that..." Damian paused. A possibility dawned on him. He glanced at Tyrch, who stood lax and unattentive to anything but Damian.

"What?" Tyrch asked, oblivious.

Damian straightened up and aimed his rifle at Tyrch. It took the corporal by surprise, but he had to contest against the flashlight, "What are you doing?!"

"What company are you with?" Damian asked.

"The 23rd Infantry Brigade. Why are you..." Tyrch finally came to the right conclusion. "Wait! You think I'm the doppelganger?!"

"Can't be too sure..."

"You have to be joking. I've been compliant and cooperative. Stop pointing that damn..."

Damian fired, but the bullet didn't tag Tyrch. It zipped past him by a few inches and went through the store's front window. It didn't shatter the glass, but it did leave a webbed hole.

"If you're not the doppelganger, you'll know the answers," Damian made it clear how serious he was. Tyrch furrowed his brow and tensed up after the shot. The commander asked, "What is the second-highest enlisted rank in the National Guard?"

"Sergeant Major."

"What is a one-star General?"

"Uh... hold on," Tyrch suddenly became nervous. However, he moved his mouth as he thought. Damian could tell he was reciting the ranks in order. Then, like a lightbulb moment, he said, "Brigadier General!"

Damian hesitated on the right answer. However, it wasn't enough for him, "Who was the the tenth president of the United States?"

"Wha... I don't know. What kind of question is that?" Tyrch deflated. Damian threatened with the rifle, but the corporal was done, "No! You're paranoid! You're threatening your ally, sir!"

Damian fought the urge to fire. To not let the doppelganger play on his emotions. He couldn't fire, though, without knowing for certain. He struggled to make a decision.

Tyrch made it for him, "Fuck this."

The corporal turned and started to leave. Damian had a clear shot, but in the end, couldn't make that call. He lowered his rifle and let out a long held sigh. Tyrch exited the shop and headed for the bus.

Damian jogged after him outside, "Corporal..."

Tyrch, still upset, turned with contempt, "What?"

The SUV next to Tyrch split horizontally, like the maw of a massive beast. It snapped down on the corporal, breaking his body like a toothpick.

Damian stumbled back and aimed his weapon up. The mimic's arm, a traffic light post, slammed downwards towards him. He dove out of the way, repositioned and stabilized on one knee, and fired shots into the mimic. It munched on Tyrch mindlessly, putting one of its arms up to block the gunshots. They pierced through, and like before, made the mimic dart sideways. Instead of running away, it charged its aggressor.

"Shit!" Damian rolled over the hood of a car. The mimic rammed the car and narrowly missed him. He unclipped one of Peter's smoke grenades and released it. A cloud of smoke filled the area and obscured both of them. The mimic's swings went wild and missed the captain.

Damian entered a sprint out of the cloud and headed for the bus. The mimic, disoriented from the smoke, had to find a clearing before giving chase.

The bus came into sight. It was parked right where he left it, and Sebastian even leaned out the side and waved for him to hurry. The scene was very reminiscent of the crying woman mimic.

Damian halted and his warped perception rippled across his thoughts. His heart thrummed in his ears. He couldn't tell if the bus and Sebastian became a mimic. They could have been taken and replaced with a second mimic. He couldn't trust it. He couldn't trust himself to make the same mistake with the doppelganger and Tyrch.

The raging mimic was about to reach the stunned captain.

The hunting rifle's shot cracked through the air, past Damian, and punctured the mimic. The high-caliber magnum round punched right through it. It recoiled and let out a horrific, gravelly cry.

Damian gawked at the monster before looking towards the bus. Theo chambered the next round and fired without hesitating. The second bullet reminded the monstrosity of its mortality. Blood gushed out from the two holes. It left Damian alone and scuttled away.

Theo was reminded of the zombies at the college. They weren't unstoppable or unkillable. Zombat and Ashem, regardless of their imposing forms, could be slowed. In Maria's case, even killed. He cranked a third round and made Jay proud.

The third shot punctured the side of the mimic's head-body. After an initial, violent reaction, it spun sideways and its legs gave out. The mimic crumbled to the ground, dead.

Damian stared at its corpse for longer than necessary. All the commotion attracted zombies. Sebastian bellowed for him to get back to the bus. It jostled him out of his stupor. He returned and left behind a heap of regret.

"Close shave, lad!" Sebastian wiped his brow of sweat.

Damian fell into the first seat and clutched a metal bar in front of him. He steadied his breathing. A hand rubbed his back; Natalie offered comfort. When he saw who it was, he rolled his shoulder, "Don't touch me."

Natalie held her hands away and made a cat-like face of mischief. Theo approached, "You okay?"

"I am, but it got Corporal Tyrch. Thank you for the assist," Damian nodded to him.

"Thank yourself. You're the one who made the right call," Theo deflected. He and Natalie went back to Jenah.

The words meant more to Damian than Theo realized. A headache replaced the thrum of his heart. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The bus lurched forward.

Sebastian eased, "Nae bother, lad. We get the folk, drive back, and say cheerio tae Hansel."

***

Tony and Benny spent most of the morning gathering information. The rumor mill ran fast in the shelter; everybody already knew Tony was an officer before the apocalypse. It meant that he found issues that had nothing to do with his investigation. The six survivors complained about miscellaneous problems. Lost clothing, stolen food, hijacked sleeping spots, the stink of the unhygienic; small potatoes.

The survivors included two young men, a middle-aged woman, a teenager, and an old couple.

They didn't reveal anything about the doppelganger. To not tip the chameleon off, Benny lounged about pretending to mope about not going with his dad. He kept an eye out for anything strange.

Peter hobbled from his perch to speak quietly to Tony, "Any luck?"

"No, but I have Benny looking for abnormalities," Tony crossed his arms.

"Olivia went to the church earlier. She hasn't been back," Peter followed his gut.

"I gotcha," Tony denoted the gimp leg.

"Are you going to the church?" one of the elders asked. The rest of the campsite survivors gathered before Tony.

"I am. Is everybody here religious?"

The six confirmed their desire to go and pray. Tony took it as a sign to continue his watch over them. Peter gave thanks before the lot of them headed through the cafeteria. Tony passed Benny, nodding at the church and where he'll be. Benny gave a not-so-subtle thumbs up and continued to 'mope'.

Tony found the warm connecting corridor and serene atmosphere calming. A large number of people were filing out of the auditorium. The sermon ended with what seemed like a positive message. Everybody was in high spirits.

Tony spotted Heya, Olivia, and Koraline having a chat near a sideroom. The six campsite survivors shuffled into the main auditorium to congregate. This caught Olivia's attention, and that's when she spotted Tony. He approached, half-hugged and pecked his wife, "Hey, sorry I missed out. I'll make it to the next one."

"It's quite alright, brother. On your time," Koraline gave little inflection.

"Want to go for a walk, babe? You don't look like you want to sit right now," Heya read her man.

Tony glanced after the survivors, "Oh, I don't know. A walk might..."

Heya was giving him a stern, inquisitive stare. Olivia read the wife's needs and said, "Go ahead, Tony. Don't keep her waiting."

Tony saw and heard Olivia's verbal tag-out for him. He appreciated the help and agreed. Heya thanked Olivia with a devious, sisterly smile. The sweet couple wandered away. Olivia found their hand holding and affection endearing. She went into deep contemplation.

"Speak your mind, sister," Koraline said, jolting Olivia out of her thoughts. The priestess saw the distress, "What bothers you?"

"Is it that obvious? I hoped attending church would clear my mind. Clear my conscience. I... I sinned. I wanted to ask for forgiveness," Olivia danced her sights across the architecture. She clutched the cross hanging from her neck, though it also looked like she clutched for her heart.

"I'd be happy to help, sister. Your plight is a common one. It is good that you are compelled before your Lord's grace," Koraline bowed slightly.

The sister sounded official for a spiritual off-group. Olivia found their unorthodox views weird, but Father David's sermon never invoked anything outside of one's self. It was more like a spiritual rally.

"How?"

"Some of our stars are or have been Christian. Repentence is in their brightness. You can confide in them," Koraline suggested. She let the mask slip again and wrinkled her nose, "Don' worry, gal. I gotchu."

Olivia's heart skipped a beat. She subdued her excitement, "I would actually like that."

Koraline nodded and composed herself, "Wonderful! Would you like a consulting room for face-to-face discussions, or a confessional booth for anonymity?"

"Ooh, a choice?" Olivia wasn't expecting that. Considering the raunchiness of her sin, she decided to be discreet, "A confessional booth, please."

"Right this way," Koraline went the opposite direction of the cafeteria. They curved through the halls and to the back. The opposite side of the church contained multipurpose rooms for visitors and consultations. Beyond this, on the rear side of the auditorium stage, was an adjacent corridor. A row of modern confessional booths were aligned. Each was ten feet apart for a total of five booths.

"Please, relax. A moment of solitude with your thoughts can help shape the voice of your heart," Koraline opened the very first booth.

Standard fittings for a church. The aesthetics were similar to the outside. Candles flickered dim light on either side of the booths, giving it a warm, personal atmosphere. A single, nicely embroidered cushion rested on the ground for kneeling. A built-in, cushioned bench gave Olivia a place to prop her elbows as she prayed and confessed. The screen she'd talk through had an opaque mesh. Lastly, as though there to bear witness, was a large, abstract portrait on the back wall. It depicted the upper body of a feminine figure, though the artist took liberty to hide her identity with censoring streaks.

Olivia felt the shackles of guilt. They pulled on her conscience. She fell on her knees, tears welled up, and she clasped her hands together. The praying began.

The faint hum of people musing in the front challenged the barrier. It acted as a backdrop. Olivia returned to her youth, when she went to church with her parents. The old wood, polished brass, and scent of honey helped that journey.

A few moments later, the priest arrived. Olivia waited in tapered silence for his greeting. It came as an unhurried and measured welcome, "Forgive me, for I may come across a little rustic..."

The candid greeting, like Koraline's, eased Olivia, "That's quite alright."

The priest officially started with, "Peace be upon you, my daughter. Take your time; a heavy heart in a harsh world is not so easily moved."

The priest's tone and words created a sanctuary. She answered, "Thank you for your time, father. Straight to the point; last night, I committed a sin that now plagues me with regret and uncertainty. I seek forgiveness."

The silence hung long enough to honor her words. His response was one of resonance, "The darkness of our world tests our resolve. The burden is not for one to carry alone. We are here for you. He is here. Speak of this sin, my daughter."

The very thought of Natalie's lips on hers made Olivia blush. Her nose buried under her clit riled up her insides. The wrongness of coveting a person like Natalie only made Olivia more turned on.

She felt shame for reliving those moments in this small chamber. She spoke, "I laid with another whom I am not committed to. I indulged in lust."

A subtle rustle of cloth came from his side. He shifted against the partition. His voice was intimate and level, "The fires of lust tend to leave marks deeper than we realize. We humans seek companionship. Your confliction is understood, my daughter."

Olivia noticed how such a sin was not met with condemning language. It made her wonder, "In Father David's sermon, he brought up the value of accepting sin. That we should live by Jesus's example and bear it. To me, it all sounds... blasphemous."

The priest's voice dropped an octave. Still soft and empathetic, but untarnished by the subject matter, "Sin brought us into a fallen world. Yet, the tale goes that the Son bore all of it and suffered for his flock. Therein, he passed, latent with wickedness. For three days, the Son lived the flames of Hell and knew absolute indignation. Yet, he ascended. Reborn, beautiful, and suffusing with righteousness. It is proof that even one sin can be held and overcome."

The logic was there, but Olivia did not see why, "Sin is evil. That's what I have always been taught. It is a temptation to be quelled, not accepted."

"You cannot convince yourself, yet your spirit rebels," the priest came at her with a solemn tone. "You wish for penance, but in our eyes there is salvation there. That is where the Last Saints' beliefs find fruition. Mother revealed the truth to us. Lust is untamed love, my daughter. Our Lord preached to love all. It is not so different."

The idea sounded crazier when said out loud. Olivia couldn't help but chuckle, "So, what? I surrender to lust? Become some kind of nymphomaniac harlot?"

"Surrender isn't the right word, my daughter. Harness is more appropriate," the priest remained utterly serious. There was an unwavering power to his words, "It haunts you, for you allow it to seize you. That is surrender. Fear, remorse... discard such weaknesses. Embrace the sin and take control of your spirit once more."

Embracing sin. By all means, when Olivia gave in, she did find herself happier. Society, her church, and even the military bent her against that happiness. A lump formed in her throat. A sinking feeling of who she wishes to be conflicted with who she was told to be.

"How?" Olivia asked.

"The practice of the Last Saints embodies self-control. Overindulgence is restricted by self-indulgence. Pride and wrath are tamed by self-respect. Lust is forever imprisoned by self-love. We..."

"Please," Olivia interrupted. She did so with vulnerability, as to not offend, "I cannot find peace in my upbringing. I'm willing to learn, father."

"Very well," there was no sudden intake of breath or shift in posture. His somber tone reached out to her soul, "What is it does your spirit yearn for?"

Olivia knew the perfect way to put it, "Carnal pleasure."

"Remove your clothing."

Olivia is the one who shifted in posture. She leaned back on the pillow and stared at the screen. The candlelight cast his silhouette. He remained unmoved.

Olivia rose, abiding the guidance. She undid her cargo pants and let them fall. She lifted her shirt, and became sheepish when her bare, ample breasts flopped out. She kept stealing glances at the screen; her suspicions told her the priest could see everything. Stripping swirled her emotions and thoughts. The urges Natalie feasted on returned.

"A-All of my clothes?" Olivia asked. She adjusted her long red locks to drape over her breasts. Each time she glanced at herself, her insides twinged. Her supple form was evident in the low light. The shadows hugged beneath her faint muscles and curves, defining them more than usual. All she had on were panties.

"Yes, my daughter. The Mother's spirit is without materialistic objects. Truly, you have no need to hide," the priest's voice came through the screen, quiet and intensely personal.

Olivia took a deep breath. She leaned on faith and hope. When she breathed out, she lowered her panties. With a gentle kick, her clothes were piled into a corner. She used a hand to obscure her vagina and pubes.

"It is done, father."

The priest shifted, which creaked the wood. His clothing ruffled a bit. It led to a quiet that permeated the booths. Olivia's mind wandered. Her insides were hot.

"How do you feel?" the priest asked.

Olivia remained vulnerable and honest, "I feel exposed, slightly hot, and... uncomfortable."

"Hmm, anything else?"

Olivia let out another quiet exhale. She stared down at her naked body. Natalie smiled up from below her cleavage. Her pussy ached for the skater girl's fingers. Her mind relived last night, as well as imagined what the father might be doing.

"I am drenched in sin. It's suffocating," Olivia shook, unable to let go.

"Do not give in. Take control," the priest's voice penetrated the doubt.

The tears welled up, "I can't. It will make me something to be hated."

"Harness the wretchedness to strengthen your resolve. It is your body, your soul, your sin. Let it grow into something beautiful and divine. Stop fighting your true nature," the priest almost sounded fanatic.

"I want... to be touched."

The priest laid a hand on the opaque screen. His dark silhouette was sharp in the warm light, "Go on, my daughter. Unbottle it."

Olivia dug deeper, "I fantasize about my team members. How they can take me in the middle of the night. I want to drag people into closed off places and let them ravage my body. I want to fall asleep every night, used and abused."

"My, my, your repression is extraordinary. Don't surrender. Let grace guide you. Grow stronger."

The encouragement formed armor on Olivia's resolve. Her mind wasn't her own. Her body vibrated under years of suppressed desire, "I want you to see me masturbate."

"Hmm, remove the screen."

It was the dulcet way he said it that Olivia didn't even think twice. She gripped the sides and found where the paneling was loose. She slid the screen off and set it aside. The priest's side was still on. That's when he commanded, "Proceed."

There wasn't anything to hide. Olivia drew her fingers along her sin while pushing her hips out a bit. They traced her mound and clit. The slight touch was as a sensational as her first time. She desired a lot more. She parted the lips and grinded into herself. Hot and moist, she rubbed about for a moment, knowing full well the priest watched. She flicked and massaged; the longer the drag, the more her body vibrated with satisfaction.

Olivia loved the feeling. She stepped closer to give the priest just the view of her goods. She liked how slutty she sounded, "Do you like what you see?"

"The Mother has blessed you with a beautiful bloom," the priest instilled sensual calmness. He moved aside his screen. Olivia gasped, as from her top-down angle, she couldn't see into his booth.

"Proceed."

Olivia listened and continued masturbating. She parted the pink and gave him a glistening sight. The interaction rattled her like fireworks. Every inch made her weak in the knees. Her technique was like that of a baker with warm dough.

The cage of lust no longer had a lock on it.

"Turn around. Present your beauty. Allow me to witness Mother's wonderful glory," the priest's words were hypnotic and sexy.

Olivia proceeded. She swiveled and bent over. Her ass pressed into the opening, and though not all could fit, she knew he gazed at all of her undercarriage. Her pussy teased the lip of the frame. She asked with a slight whine, "How's that, father?"

Her sixth sense kicked in and she 'felt' him right by her exposure. The priest began sniffing. It weirded her out, but his enthusiastic intake of her aroma made her blush. Like a man admiring a bouquet of flowers.

"Our Mother's creation is superior to our words. I look at you now, unashamed and willing, and I say upon thee: you deserve salvation," his voice was as calm as ever. The priest moved unto her. His pronounced nose dug into her crack. His deep breaths released from his mouth. It brushed her pussy. It sent shivers across her spine and brain.

Olivia trembled with excitement, "Yes, father, save me."

He ventured his tongue forth. She shuddered when the tip parted her lips and lapped the hole. Her juices already flowed, so it allowed him a generous amount of sweetness.

The dangerous alchemy worked the priest up. Olivia heard him making noises of a fulfilled man. He went from delicate presses to ravenous eating. He suckled on it and drank her nectar.

Each second that past convinced Olivia she made the right choice. The priest baptized her pussy and relinquished her of uncertainty.

The priest's tongue swirled deep. Then even deeper. Olivia rolled her eyes back and giggled when it tickled and massaged the good spot. What Natalie did to her was amazing, but this was above and beyond anything she'd ever had.

The priest continued until he earned her over. She came from the excessive cunnilingus. She bit her lower lip to muffle the moan.

The priest retracted from her pussy with a slurpy smack. Olivia braced her hands on her knees, "Damn, that was phenomenal."

"Are you satisfied, my daughter?" the priest asked as if he didn't just go to town on her snatch.

Part of her was. Yet, the depraved part of her wondered. If she said yes, the session would more than likely be over. However, she did as she was told and embraced her lecherous idea, "I need more."

The robes fell to the floor, or at least that's what Olivia pictured. What she hoped for crested through the frame and slid effortlessly under her mound. Its head and length brushed along her pussy and through her thighs. Then, she saw exactly what the priest presented.

It wasn't human. It resembled a cock, but it was an evergreen color and misshapen. The head flared out with a plateau ridge. It resembled a star or flower. Its length and girth was like that of an arm; bulbous closer to the base with a thinner neck under the head. Veins traced all along it and pulsed wildly.

"Do not be afraid, my daughter. By mastering the spirit, I have mastered the form. This is the result of Her love," the priest's voice changed, too. It resonated with radiant fervor.

Olivia gawked at the repulsive, mutated member. The priest was some kind of Freak. She should end the session and report this to Peter.

Yet, the growth pulsed against her groin. It stilled her mind. It gently slithered side-to-side. It leaked precum, but also had a film of slime that made everything slick.

Olivia opened the cage door, "Proceed."

The monstrous cock twitched to a pause. It whipped backwards between Olivia's thighs, right along her pussy. The acute spring of pleasure made her cry out in transcedence. Its warmth and size blew her mind. The leaking head found her hole and squeezed in.

"Let the ambrosia coat your insides," the priest encouraged.

The precum never stopped. It was a continuous fountain that pumped into her. What didn't go inside spilled down her legs or dripped to the floor.

Olivia's crotch was on fire. The cock's offering stoked a flame in her stomach. Her heart raced with excitement. She grinded the sturdy tip. It teased her clit just right. She wanted to be pierced. She went crazy, "Proceed!"

"Ah, now this is unexpected," the priest sounded amused. "Not many can take it in as such. Only a very select few are chosen. But you are worthy, my daughter. I shall anoint your spirit."

Simultaneously, across Hansel...

Sebastian brought the bus to a stop next to a gas station. Everybody gazed out one side of the bus to a bizarre sight.

Sebastian removed his half-finished cigar, "Shite, that wisnae there twa days ago. Whit's the name o that yin, Damian?"

Damian, perplexed, shook his head, "I don't know. I've never seen this before."

Ivy tendrils dominated the gas station. The building and pumps were covered in the green vinework with no proper design or pattern. Multiple corpses were strewn beneath the vines. Some tendrils were attached to their faces, chests, or groins. The centerpiece of it all was a suspended body in the midst of the vines. A statuesque pregnant woman lurched backwards. Her stomach bump glowed an ethereal green.

"I don't like how plant-like this is," Jenah scowled.

"Why's that?" Sebastian asked.

"Because we dealt with a Freak who was a weird plant," Theo answered, vividly remembering the nightmare and abuse. "It wasn't anything like this, though. All she cared about was one thing."

"What's that?" Natalie tilted her head.

GROW

It wormed deeper. It pushed and parted with relative ease. Its size bulged up Olivia's stomach, giving a visible track of where it travelled. It looped around once inside the womb.

In the confessional, the priest's growth rapidly fucked Olivia. The tentacle ravaged her insides. Olivia's eyes were rolled into the back of her head. She made an inhuman whine through gritted teeth.

"Rejoice, Olivia. With my seed and Her spirit, you will grow," the priest's compassionate tone echoed in the booth like a reverberating hymn. Tentacles thinner than fingers wrapped around her legs and waist to stabilize her. They yanked her back each time the tentacle thrusted.

The growth plowed her harder. It wiggled faster. Her orgasm became unending. Her limbs contorted and jutted in a tantrum of ecstasy.

GROW

The group were disturbed by Theo's retelling of Maria. Sebastian looked to Damian, but the commander shook his head, "We are leaving Hansel. No more investigations. Let's go."

Sebastian nodded and drove ahead. Theo and Jenah watched the reminder of the first day disappear around a corner. They hoped to never see such a thing again.

GROW

Thick cum with green streaks dripped onto the floor cushion. Sweat soaked her body and she let out gradual pants. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred. Her pupils stretched and twisted irregularly. Her stomach bulged slightly. A faint green glow could be seen under the skin.

A sinful grin crossed Olivia's face.

***

At Opal Row, Hank peered through the small garage door window. Lucija hunched over a tray of roasted meat and vegetables. She tore into the meal with little regard for waste.

Less of her face could be seen in the stretched out, canine-like transformation. Her muscles were exaggerated, giving her a bulk closer to what Ashem had in his werewolf form.

Hank, deflated, moved over to the bottom step of the stairs and sat down. B4rry floated over, "What is on your mind, sir?"

Hank opened a notebook he used to keep tabs on Lucija's development, "I don't know what to do, B4rry. She refuses to turn, which means she's still Lucija. Her arm is fully healed, so she has regeneration. On four occasions, when she regained her mind, it didn't last long. She isn't giving up, but she is losing the fight."

"Based on Ms. Vukovic's expressions, though, it is kinder to rule that she is suffering," B4rry analyzed.

"Do we hold out hope in case she can fully control it like Ashem, or..." Hank couldn't bring himself to say the alternative. It'd be a mercy to end her misery. He just didn't know if he had it in him to do it.

Gunshots rang out in the distance. He raised his head to listen. It was closer than usual shots heard throughout Hansel. When a couple more followed, along with a scream from within Opal Row, Hank jumped to his feet.

"What's going on?" Hank moved up the stairs. Lucija didn't make a noise, too busy devouring her meal.

When Hank reached the second floor entrance, a gunshot came from the other side. An agonized death wail preempted a body hitting the door. It all made Hank duck and freeze.

"Fucking idiot. I told you not to run," an unknown man's voice said. The shot person gargled, more than likely on his own blood. A slump later and the gunman let out a sigh.

A second man chided, "Anna's going to be pissed. She said no killing. What if that was Reece or Theodore?"

Hank's eyes widened at the mention of his best friend. The gunman grumbled, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. He'll just be an example. Come on, let's get the rest outside."

Jogging faded as the two assailants left. When Hank couldn't hear anything, he entered the breezeway. The one they shot was part of the scout team; Mike.

Voices below clued Hank in on more people. There seemed to be a scuffle, crying, and angry retorts. Hank stayed ducked, took cover by the breezeway's edge, and then peeked down.

There were two dozen armed men and women in front of the complex. They sported denim attire combined with military gear. Some of the women wore exotic outfits reminiscent of a fantasy tropical setting. Their means of transport were a military jeep, a dark-tinted van, and some motorcycles. It was a whole militia platoon.

Opal Row was propped open. The group hunted down and funneled the apartment survivors outside. Any who put up a resistance were met with the stock end of a firearm. Hank saw the remaining scout team, all roughed up. Neptune, crying, kept her head down. Ant was brought out and tossed beside her. In the light of day, he looked like a radioactive ghoul. He curled into a pathetic ball and hid from the sun.

The opposite door of the breezeway opened. It spooked Hank and made him nearly scream, but he relaxed when he saw Autumn sneaking through.

"Autumn?! What are you doing?" Hank hissed.

"Hiding. I heard one of them faking an injury to be let inside. That's when the rest of them pulled up," Autumn tapped Jenah's headphones. He crawled over next to Hank, "I heard you talking in the stairwell, so I came as quick as I could without being seen."

"Your superpowers are coming in handy. Any clue what these people want?"

"They're looking for people. Including Theodore," Autumn shrugged. Both of them peeked together.

A stalwart man imposed his presence on the complex hostages. He wore a durag, shades, and fit windbreaker jacket. He held a handgun in one hand and a reserve in a holster at his hip. One of the bikers came to him after assessing the hostages. The biker whispered and nodded.

Durag backed up to one of the vans. He neared the passenger side door and tapped on the glass. The person within stepped out.

The movements and stomps were calculated; as if she suspected everyone to pull a knife on her. The microadjustments in her group's posture gave credence to her influence. Her borderline predator glare, exemplified by luminescent magenta irises, struck a nerve and stilled the Opal Row. Her high-rise shorts showed light tones of muscle, her half-zipped, tucked in fleece jacket framed her large gold chain against her cleavage, and her 80's-inspired earrings sparkled with polished care.

"Who's the aura-farming baddie?" Hank wondered.

"I've heard them say her name..." Autumn's mouth went dry.

A male survivor showing signs of change - small devil horns and sunken eyes - suddenly burst from the group and tried to run. One of the armed women near him slammed her gun against the back of his head. He crashed to the ground and yelled out, "Dammit! No! You shouldn't be here!"

Name: Seth Morrice Williams

Height: 5'11 Weight: 175lbs Age: 40

Hair: Long and dark in a ponytail

Body: Average, but starved

Durag let the woman know, "He's the only one. Can't find any of the others."

The woman reached behind and pulled a handgun from her waistband. It was a classic Walther P38 pistol, pristine from proper upkeep. She moved with a purpose towards Seth.

Seth moved onto his knees. Seeing the woman's approach, he became desperate, "Listen! I can help us all out! I..."

"Where is Alexandra?"

"I-I don't know. I lost connection, but..."

The woman aimed and fired. Seth's head snapped back and scattered blood and brain matter on the pavement. The other tenants shrieked and flinched away.

"One down," the woman said with a cold detachment.

Name: Anna Lisa Peck

Height: 5'6 Weight: 141lbs Age: 28

Hair: Old-fashioned bob, light brown

Body: Baddie with a body