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She woke up sore. Back and neck ached, head was throbbing. The fog, wondering why she was in the dark, on something sticky and wet, dissipated in an instant when she remembered screaming for Alex to help.
Then she panicked.
Pain flared in her spine as she rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself off of the wet, soft ground, looking side to side and then wincing, rubbing her neck. Still, she had to get out of here, she had to get up. She stumbled to her feet, aching every inch she rose from the floor. It took her a few seconds to make sure she kept her balance, that she wasn’t going to end back on the floor.
She felt like she’d been in a car crash. Things were worse than that. She stood, hands on knees, panting hard while every beath hurt. She slammed her eyes shut and tried to stop down.
Dana mercer was over her head. Trying to calm herself, reminding herself that she had been in over her head before—she had a penchant for getting into trouble. But she could roll with the punches, wriggle her way out of the worst of it.
That was a pretty delusional take on the current situation, she realized.
She was pretty savvy, could keep her cool and get what she wanted. Knew how to by hook or crook.
Then Alex walked back into her life, and she realized just how out of her depth she was. Chipping away at layers of encryption in a fucked-up laptop for Alex, finding out she was in real deep when what she thought was digging up some dirt he could use to get a promotion or something at his job ended with her in a headlock by a man in biowarfare gear.
Then Alex showed up and punched him through the throat.
Yeah, she still tried to roll with the punches as they came while the world was going outright insane all around her. Put on a brave face, try not to flinch as he lurked on the periphery. Trying to crowdsource intel for him when he came back. Digging through files, head buried in the laptop. She was neck-deep in a conspiracy forty years in the making, her brother was something, and…
She tried to stop thinking about her Alex, about the things he said he did. He wasn’t the problem right now. A monster had burst through the wall of her friend’s apartment, carried her off across rooftops.
And she woke up here. The floor was wet and slimy, the air uncomfortably warm and humid. She saw footage of the how the infection took over buildings in Manhattan. Buildings overgrown with meat, webbed with reddish “moss” or with massive pulsating tumors.
She was in the middle of a hive.
She did her best to keep her head. She managed to stop rapid-fire swearing and force her breathing to return to something sort of normal. She had to get out of here—couldn’t think about how long she was out, laying on the meat on the floor, what the virus could do to her. She just needed to get out.
She could go back to panicking once she got out.
In this dark building.
She reached her hand out, finding nothing solid in front of her. Slowly, she walked forward, left arm out, groping blindly until she found a wall. Warm, wet, and soft. It was sticky when she pulled her hand back, face scrunching up.
Escape now, panic later.
That was harder when she heard something scrabbling in the dark. Not like, a rat in between the walls of an apartment. Something big that passed by, with chips of masonry raining down as it went.
She followed the wall, stumbling over something solid once or twice, losing count of her steps as she kept walking. Swore when her shin hit something, then again when she kicked it, then again when she realized it was an office chair. Straight, until she reached a corner, then through a doorway. The metal fire door was off its hinges, it shifting as she stepped on it to get through.
She kept going until she saw some light; a beam of it streaming down from up above.
She picked up her pace, going towards the light, ignoring the ache in her side, until she reached it. She squinted, near blind looking up for several moments before she could clearly make out the blue sky, several floors up. Her neck ached as she forced herself to scan the ragged hole in the ceiling. The column of light she stood in was away from any wall—no way to climb, not that she was in any shape to climb.
“You’re awake.”
“Shit!” She hissed and wheeled around, almost tripping over her feet as she looked Elizabeth Greene, who for her part was completely composed.
Pictures from Hope from the 1960s showed a normal looking teenage girl in a sundress. Forty years later, and she hadn’t aged a day. She’d gotten a haircut, was in some latex getup, and her face was marred with some patches of raw, red skin, but she still looked like she was Dana’s age.
Dana’s heart was pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what Greene was, beyond something that even had Alex nervous. Alex, who could shrug off bullets and eat people. Alex hadn’t talked much about her—she knew he went to see her at Gentek and then the entire city went to Hell. He had been unusually agitated when he had gotten back to the safehouse, but hadn’t elaborated beyond the fact that she escaped—at the time, before the streets were filled with zombies, that almost sounded like a good thing—Greene was a prisoner of the bastards who did whatever they did to Alex, who were after them.
She was disabused of that notion pretty quick. Whatever Blackwatch and Gentek was up to… she was much more direct in wreaking havoc. Even in an upper-floor apartment, in a “safe” zone, she could hear the shrieking and screaming. And helping Alex meant she had seen plenty of what the infected could do.
And now they were face-to-face.
Greene eyed her, with a blank expression, almost like she wasn’t registering Dana—except when she started to move, Greene’s head tracked her. Her eyes almost shone like a cat’s.
“Elizabeth?” Dana said, hating how small her voice sounded. Greene slightly shifted, looking directly at her.
Get her talking. Yeah. That was the trick, that would definitely work.
Not that she had any other options.
“Um… I saw what they did to you.” Dana said, diplomatically. Something grumbled to the right, in the darkness, a low, reverberating sound she could feel in her bones. “I’m sorry.”
Greene was doing a very good job making it hard to empathize with her, staring at her intently. Like a big cat in a nature documentary before a cutaway to it pouncing.
“Trapped.” Greene said. Was she reflecting on what she had been undergoing under Gentek? Or was she making a comment on Dana’s situation?
For her part, Dana nodded, tensing up, while trying to not look like she was. Hole in the ceiling wasn’t an option, talking wasn’t an option.
“You’ve been helping him.” Greene said. She couldn’t get anything from that. It was just a statement of fact. She couldn’t glean if Green resented her for helping Alex, or was happy about it.
She really should’ve asked Alex about the night Greene escaped Gentek. All he said was that she got out, and then things started getting really bad in Manhattan. She should’ve asked more, might’ve gotten something to go off of. But she could tell Alex was agitated about her escape, and she didn’t want to push his buttons. Best to just be helpful as she could.
It’s not like she ever planned to have a conversation with Greene.
Dana slowly took a step backwards, trying hard to think of something to say in response. At the moment, all she could think was she wished Alex was here, between the two of them.
She could work with that. Maybe.
“Listen.” Dana said, hands up. She knew she had no leverage here. But Greene had to know just how dangerous Alex was. Maybe she could convince her to back off. “Alex is…”
“Not well.” Greene answered for her, again knocking Dana off her game. There was a slight shake of her head as she said it, but again it was just a statement of fact. “Not right.”
Well, they had common ground on that. Although Dana was certain Greene and her definitions of right weren’t the same.
The awkward silence reigned again after Greene said her piece.
“Why did you bring me here?” Dana asked. The monster that dragged her here, dragged her across half the city could’ve snapped her like a twig. As much as her body ached, it had to have been as careful as it could be. If Greene just wanted stop her from helping Alex, it could’ve all ended in the apartment.
Greene needed, or wanted her to be alive. Was she bait? A bargaining chip? If she could figure that out, maybe she could.
“You helped him.” Greene repeated again.
“Y-yeah.” She said. With more of an edge to her voice, she intoned “And he’s probably looking for me.”
She could hope. Alex was unsettled by Greene, but Alex was… she had no clue what he was, but she knew he was really good at killing the infected. Greene did not seem intimidated at the slightest by her invoking the possibility he’d come for Dana. Greene looked her over some more, and then let out a sigh.
Taking a few steps closer, she said “Help me”
Dana responded by taking a few steps back. “What do you want?”
Next thing she knew, they hit the ground—landing on Dana’s shoulders. Her head snapped back, hitting a mat of rancid meat. Pain in her back and neck flared, all the aches spiked dramatically, and she screamed and thrashed wildly. Hands pinned her shoulders to the ground as she struggled fruitlessly. Greene was strong—much stronger than she looked, and much stronger than Dana..
They were still for a while. Or rather, Greene was still while Dana fruitlessly attempted to escape her grip. She tried to pry Greene off of her, trying to wriggle out of her grip, tried anything. Her efforts hurt and didn’t seem to give Greene any amount of trouble. Greene just stared down, waiting until Dana gave up. Panting, in pain, she tried her best to just glare up at Greene.
“Trapped. Alone.” Greene said.
The woman leaned down and pressed her lips against Dana’s. She yelped in surprise, feeling Greene’s tongue slide against hers. Dana turned her head to the side spitting, trying to get the metallic taste off of her tongue. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Greene staring down at her, face placid, apparently not offended at Dana breaking the kiss.
“You. Me. Him. Alone.”
One hand left Dana’s shoulder, reaching down, gripping the waistband of Dana’s skirt and leggings. Dana threw her head forward, slamming her skull against Greene’s. Her head was ringing, neck and spine protested the sudden impact, and her face was burning hot. Blinking away tears, Greene didn’t seem to have noticed.
“We’ll be together.”
Denim and cotton tore. Dana redoubled her efforts, and managed to get herself to a seated position now that one of Greene’s arms was off of her. Greene pinned her back down, planting her forearm against Dana neck, holding her down, with the arm and her bodyweight, latex against Dana’s bare skin. She kicked against the mess of meat on the floor, managing to shove off the ground a few inches before her feet slipped and they landed agai.
One arm was pinned underneath Greene’s body. She slammed her free hand against Greene, panicked, uncoordinated strikes that Greene didn’t acknowledge. She swore her head off, throwing a mix of empty threats and demands for Green to stop. Shockingly, Greene didn’t.
Dana’s mind was racing. Any thoughts of talking her way out were well out the window and all she could think of was trying to escape. Fight or flight. Neither one was working—Green was too strong to break free
She went still when Greene’s free hand run underneath her underwear. A finger ran the length of her slit, before drawing a slow circle around her clit. Greene was studying her intensely, leaning in close while playing with her. Her hand was almost painfully warm against Dana’s crotch. Dana attempted to thrash out of Greene’s grip, failing. Red faced, blood pounding in her veins, Dana screamed for Greene to stop, which turned into a whine as Greene continued to stroke her cunt.
“Together.” Greene intoned.
“Fuck you.” Dana growled breathlessly.
“Shhh…” Then a finger went in, then another. Burning hot.
Dana panicked.
Thrashing, screaming, swearing while Greene serenely pinned her down, lips against her neck, fingers inside her. She was on fire. Her lips, tongue, running down her throat. The skin of her neck. Her cunt. Everywhere Greene touched, was touching, was painfully hot, the burning spreading. She kept hitting Greene with her free arm, managed to extricate her other and tried to shove her off. She gave Greene as much Hell as she could manage—it wasn’t much.
Her struggles weakened as her arms and legs went limp, the burning seemed to die down. Blinking away tears, her vision was still blurry, Greene’s eyes only coming into focus when she shifted to look her eye-to-eye.
“Shhh… shh….”
Dana whimpered as Greene continued to finger her. After being slammed to the ground, held down by her neck and had her clothes ripped, Greene was perfectly gentle. As Dana’s struggles subsided, Greene’s forearm left her throat, drifting down to fondle her chest. She tried to buck her way to get Greene out of her, cross her legs to just make things harder. She had no clue how long she tried to fight her off, but eventually she was barely able to move, the most she could do was claw her fingers against the meat underneath her, and shudder and whine as the burning died into a dull tingling sensation, punctuated by wretched little thrills of pleasure with every motion of Greene’s fingers.
That was most of what she felt, Greene toying inside her. After thrashing and struggling, the pain up and down her body was a dull throb, out of focus compared to inexpert but insistent fingers and warm lips on her neck, the fire in her veins had died to a not-unpleasant warm that made her sick. But all of that was secondary to Greene against her, Dana’s body lazily held down and played with, the pleasure building.
It was almost nice.
No.
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
It was a struggle, she made herself continue attempting to rsist fruitlessly as Greene slowly, carefully worked her over, occasionally muttering about togetherness that Dana drowned out with slurred, inarticulate expletives that gave way to moans and whines, inevitably drowning out Greene’s muttering as she was forced over the edge.
Suddenly, Greene reared up, hands leaving Dana. Dana forced herself to look up, seeing Greene, tugging at the thick collar of the rubber suit he was wearing. Strong as she was she apparently had difficulty but eventually she pulled it apart, actually showing a bit of effort and frustration that had been absent with Dana’s struggle.
Dana’s limbs were leaden, but she managed to roll over and start to drag herself away. It was impossible, but she wasn’t thinking. She just had to get away. In the back of her head she was well aware she was doing very little but pathetically crawling while Greene stripped, until an iron-strong hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her close. Fingers clawed helplessly at the meat of the floor as Greene pulled her close.
When she was rolled over onto her back again, she saw Greene had exposed her throat, chest, belly, and crotch, strips of the rubber littering the ground. Her body was pale where it wasn’t red and raw, and crossed with surgical scars . Dana was lifted her to a sitting position, and Greene grabbed her right arm by the wrist and guided it to her, rubbing it against her body.
The intent was clear, Dana wouldn’t comply if she even could, her hand limp against Greene, who pushed it down her belly and then to her crotch. Her hand twitched a little. Greene grinded against her, burning and wet while still looking at her completely detached. After an interminable time, she seemed to realize Dana wasn’t giving her the reaction she wanted.
Greene let her wrist drop and stroked Dana’s face. “Almost together”
Dana attempted, and didn’t quite manage, to slur out “Fuck you.”
Greene shifted, essentially sitting in Dana’s lap, face-to-face. Looping her arms, she pulled Dana into a tight embrace, her face against Greene’s breast. Greene’s body was hot and clammy. Fingers stroked Dana’s hair as the mat of meat they were on undulated and moved. She weakly tried to push her way out of a grip to strong as she felt the tips of a dozen burning limbs run up her legs.
They slid under what was left of her leggings, under her panties, slid up her belly under her shirt and bra. She was pulled tighter against Greene—roughly bound to her suddenly in a way that should’ve aggravated the pain in her back and neck, but didn’t. Limbs less than an inch across, ones as thick as her thumb, felt and slid and latched onto her skin.
She clenched her eyes and mouth shut and howled against Greene’s skin.
She felt the kiss at the top of her head, little reassuring sounds Greene was making hit her ears over the sounds of her protests. Limbs pushed inside of Dana, sending a tingling thrill of pleasure as they pushed inside her cunt. One found her ass, pressed inside insistently despite her trying to deny it entry.
A gasp from Greene, followed by her tightening her grip on Dana. She was reacting now, moaning and groaning all too similarly to Dana. The two of them were a tangle of limbs and tentacles crept around and between and through them. Dana could feel Greene's enthusiasm, offputting after her monotone rambling. She whined too--Greene's attitude was infectious.
Greene rocked her hips against the tentacles, moaning and cooing. Dana clamped her mouth shut to try not to join as limbs slowly pressed inside her. Limb by limb she was stretched open and filled. She sobbed and whined and was shushed by Greene, who moved with a rhythm that didn’t match the chaotic mess of stroking and pushing and quivering inside and outside Dana. Thrashing and quivering and sucking and...
She was sick to her stomach as a dozen competing, not unpleasant sensations hit her at once. Nothing like she ever felt before. She kept her eyes shut, trying not to react and hating every little whine that escaped her throat into Greene’s flesh.
But it felt good.
She didn’t know when she stopped being held up and instead was flat on her back, Greene rocking her hips against hers, the black tangle of tentacles making it impossible to see what pale skin was hers and what was hers. Exhausted as she was, Dana was aware her hips were rocking in the mess along with Greene. A hand found a hand and clasped it--a squeeze answering a squeeze. She tried to stop, tried to sort out whose hand made the first move. Couldn't. They moaned and writhed against each other, occasionally Dana was aware she was on her side or back. The world was off kilter, centered around her and Grene. She was dimly aware what was left of her clothes were long gone when Greene dug her nails into her bare shoulders, arched her back and howled. It was answered by something deep in the darkness, and Dana herself shuddered and howled.
She didn’t manage any resistance when Greene kissed her this time, the warmth and taste not unwelcome. Limp, exhausted, in Greene’s grasp. Greene's embrace. It could be worse. Years alone, fending for herself, until Alex needed help--and then into the breach in Manhattan. She didn't have to flinch at movement in the shadows, the skittering. She wasn't alone. Forty years of loneliness and stillness and waiting and…
…forty years?
“I’ve waited so long.” Greene said, replying to a question Dana couldn’t ask. “Alone.”
A cacophony of howls rang through the darkness. Greene hadn't been alone, ever since Penn Station. But even as legion, it was nice to have someone to talk to--someone to hold.
“We’re together now.”
Something twisted in Dana that made her howl. She wished her cry in pain.
“So close. You’re so close.” Greene said. So why was Dana still being stubborn?
It was just who she was.
Greene kissed Dana on the forehead and then stood up. Loops of black, writhing tendrils fell away from her, coiling and creeping around Dana in places their brethren hadn't already staked a claim to. “Free and together. Soon.”
Alex was going to fucking kill her. He was going to fucking kill her. Dana kept thinking that, and trying to push down the little voice in the back of her head that that would be a bad thing. Alex was going to…
“Together with us, too.” Greene said, backing away into the darkness. After an eterinity alone, staring up at the sky so far above her, Dana tried to lift herself up. Somehow, managing to do so, shakily. Until she tried to pull a handful of tentacles out of her. She was yanked to the floor. She howled and thrashe as limbs grabbed her, pinned her to the mat of the floor, bound her tight and drove in deep.
Her cries were cut off when tendrils found her mouth and forced their way in—tasting and feeling like Greene. She felt her limbs go slack as she was wound tight, the meat of the hive enveloping her and holding her fast, sinking underneath the surface. Warm and wet and dark. Attempts at screams or moans or pleas died against the tentacles pushing down her throat. Somewhere in the distance, as tendrils creeped across her body and drifted deeper inside and toyed with every inch of her body, somehow she could tell Greene waited.
She waited so long. Waiting a little longer for Dana to be ready would be easy.
She felt the hive tighten around her, holding her fast and still, stroking her gently, prodding her roughly, exploring and learning. Dana thrashed, involuntarily as another thrill of pleasure hit her.
And she was alone. And not alone.
Just her and the darkness and the hive. Inside and out.