The Boss Is Dead

Chp: 13 Prepare for the worst

The next few mornings found Sarah and the girls( including other survivors) down at the makeshift shooting range under Carver's instruction. While the men like Ben and Tom were naturals with firearms, many of the women had no experience beyond the occasional hunting trip.

Carver and Mark took it upon themselves to rectify that, determined their whole camp be capable defenders. So at dawn's first light, Sarah dragged her weary bones from her thin bedroll and trudged down to the alleyway they'd converted into a firing lane. They knew that even though the noise would attract zombies, they were far safer inside the town hall walls.

Coffee and conversation flowed as they honed vital skills. Diana proved shockingly accurate with her slingshot, outshining even Greg and Jake with pistols. Amanda stubbornly struggled with gun recoil at first but persisted with dogged determination. The ladies looked real-hot with all the guns.

When Sarah's shots went wide for the fifth time, Mark shook his head in exasperation. "You're gripping it like a baseball bat...not a lethal weapon." He stepped up behind her, wrapping calloused hands over slimmer ones to maneuver the gun in her hands.

Sarah's cheeks flamed redly at his proximity, the heat radiating between them.

She tried to pull away, but Mark just tightened his grip on her hands and pulled them tighter together. The feel of him pressed against her back sent tingles through her body, aching desire that she wanted nothing more than to be able to bury under the covers with him, make love for hours until they fell asleep beside each other. But she didn't have that luxury anymore, and she couldn't afford to take advantage of the situation either.

His hand brushed down Sarah's shoulder and squeezed her wrist. "Try it again," he murmured in her ear, his breath warming the shell and sending a shiver of pleasure down Sarah's spine. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear. "It's going to hit someone eventually, you know."

"Don't say that," Sarah muttered, fighting to keep the quaver out of her voice. She couldn't let Mark see how much she was affected by his touch or anything else about his presence. Not after everything they'd been through.

She needed to stay strong. She had too. For herself.

"Okay, then I won't say it," Mark said softly as Sarah drew in a deep breath. "Just try to relax," he added when she released her hold on the rifle.

"I am relaxed," Sarah assured him as she took another breath and squeezed the trigger. Her eyes widened with shock as the bullet flew off into the distance. "Oh my God-"

Mark turned her towards him and wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from stumbling. "There, there," he said soothingly as he tucked her hair behind her ears. "All right?"

"Yeah..." Sarah nodded slowly and gave Mark a shaky smile. "Thanks." She closed her eyes for a moment as she let out a long, slow breath. "Maybe we should stop before someone gets hurt," she whispered finally.

Across the lane, Amanda and Diana made kissing noises, receiving the middle finger in return.

But despite their awkward history, Mark's guiding her paid off. Sarah's next three shots landed center mass on her target, much to the others' whoops of approval. Maybe working together didn't have to mean rekindling their doomed romance. Survival depended on setting aside past hurts, she thought.

While they practiced, Greg and Ben kept watch from an overlooking balcony, occasionally swapping the binoculars to scout for danger. Greg's anxiety mounted with each phantom noise he mistook for danger.

"Hey, chill out would you?" Ben nudged his jittery companion. "We're perfectly safe within the walls. Stop jumping at your own shadow."

Greg huffed, fidgeting relentlessly. "I can't help it okay? Every little sound has me on edge now." He accepted the binoculars shakily. "How do you stay so calm all the time?"