Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 164: Violence Is Never The Answer

Chapter 164: Violence Is Never The Answer

I opened a single eye and saw the good doctor crouching beside my bed, a washcloth in his hand as he gently scrubbed at the drying blood.

"Is the door closed?" I whispered, my voice so soft and weak.

"It is," nodded the doctor. "But you can drop the act. There is no one here but us, and that shit has to be tiring."

"I don’t know," I replied with a slight shrug as I closed my eyes again. I wasn’t relaxed, not by a long shot. Just because I thought this guy was hot didn’t mean that I trusted him. That took a bit of work on his side. "Is it tiring to stay alive?"

The man snorted as he dabbed at the egg on my head, causing me to flinch. "Don’t you think living is the most tiring thing of all?" he asked. There was the sound of water being wrung out of the cloth before the cool compress was placed back on my head.

"What’s the alternative?" I snorted, not realizing that just having him around made all the muscles in my body unwind. "Cause I’m pretty sure death is one of those final things."

The doctor chuckled as he moved down my cheek and started scrubbing my neck. It would probably be better if I just got up and took a shower, but even that seemed to take too much effort at the moment.

Laying on my bed like a dead fish, I finally understood why so many people enjoyed being looked after. It was the headiest feeling in the world.

"You can’t stay in survival mode forever," he counseled me. "What you need to do is find someone or someplace to just relax and just be before having to face the world again."

"Gee, thanks," I sneered, not bothering to open my eyes. "I found that shit three times, and all three times, it was ripped away. Mind you, my time with Dante and Tank lasted a few months, so I guess that was something."

"Dante and Tank?" murmured the doctor. "I don’t think I like the names of other men coming out of your sweet lips, Sugar. If you want to call a name, call mine."

"Seeing as I don’t know your name, that might prove to be a problem," I chuckled. "But you don’t dictate shit to me. I will talk to and about whoever I want. If you don’t like it, either get over it or fuck off."

Okay, so clearly, I was a lot more tired than I had originally thought, and having Marcus’ hands all over me like that had completely drained me. The doctor would have been a good person to have on my side when shit hit the fan, but I couldn’t bring myself to keep up the act.

"Beau Landry," replied the doctor, leaning down to rest his forehead against mine. "And since I refuse to fuck off, I guess I’ll get over it. Just don’t get too cranky when I slip up. I tend to be a bit possessive."

I couldn’t stop the soft laughter that came out of me as the soft stroking of my hair was putting me to sleep. "Why does that not surprise me?"

----

Beau looked down at the woman sleeping on the bed. His hand continued to stroke her forehead since every time he stopped, she would let out the cutest of whimpers.

At first, he was worried that she was too young for him... but now, seeing her eyes and the way she carried herself, he understood.

Everything she did added another layer of protection against the threats of the outside world. From the way she dressed to the way she did her hair... the innocence she showed wasn’t completely a lie... but it was used as a weapon.

It was fine. The longer he was around her, the more she would realize that she could shed those layers with him. After all, it must weigh a lot.

Giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek, he rose to his feet and straightened his lab coat. Grabbing his medical bag and the basin of dirty water, he opened the door and left the room.

Closing it behind him, he noticed for the first time that there was an extra lock on the outside.

"Beau," smiled Marcus as he approached the doctor. "How is she?"

"Badly hurt," replied Beau with a long sigh. Walking over to the kitchen, he placed the basin in the sink before turning around and looking at the dead man. "She needs to be left alone for a few days. Hopefully, if she has any powers, she’ll be healed quickly."

"Powers?" grunted Marcus, his face turning stormy for a moment before fighting for another slimy smile. "What does having powers have to do with anything?"

"I have observed that those with powers tend to heal quicker," replied Beau, narrowing his eyes. "I think it is a response to the stimuli that they experience outside. An open wound would easily lead to infection, especially with this rain and heat."

The Governor grunted as he thought about it. "Then I guess it’s too bad that Lucinda doesn’t have any powers," he sighed with a shake of his head. "That poor girl. It’s amazing that she survived this long with a mother like hers."

Beau gave a stiff smile as he nodded his head. "That really is too bad. Did you want me to look at her mother? Her injuries seemed to be extensive."

Marcus waved his hand in the air like it wasn’t that big of a deal. "No need," he replied. "I know it sounds callous, but this might be the only way for her to understand that violence is never the answer."

Shaking his head, Marcus let out another long sigh. "Besides, she is an air user. According to your theory, she’ll be completely fine."

Beau grunted but didn’t insist on it. After all, the only reason why he would ever want to check on the bitch would be to make sure that she was in pain the entire time.