Too Many Bloody Days Later

A/N: I made this out of inspiration from KA Rose's fic "56 Days Later", which was a great read. Hopping on the bandwagon, I hope this will start a fire in the 28 Days Later section. We need more slash fiction here, folks..!!!

SUMMARY: In an alternative universe, Jim, Selena and Hannah don't find out about their fate before it's already way too late. In stead of West letting Jim know about the plan behind "the answer to infection", he lets the whole thing go forth as planned, leaving the three guests unknowing of what awaits them. (if you haven't seen the fabulous movie, you probably won't get shit of what I've written)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Cillian Murphy, Chris Eccleston, Naomie Harris or any of the other actors, nor do I have the rights to any of Danny Boyle or Alex Garland's works (no matter how much I wish I did, I'd make a fucking fortune then wouldn't I).


...ok, let's roll.


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TOO MANY BLOODY DAYS LATER

Chapter 1: "The Epiphany"


"The answer to infection". Seems pretty far fetched, eh? That a bunch of soldiers, of all people, supposedly found a way out of this madness? Why were they barricading themselves in a bloody road block when they had that kind of power anyway..? Couldn't they just, I dunno, go out to the next infected they saw and simply put a shot in his neck? Couldn't they?? Couldn't they save the world..??

We weren't thinking straight. Might as well have thrown ourselves into a pit of infected, that would make things a hell of a lot simpler - and lot less painful.

Yet we trusted them blindly. Their promises.
Granted, we were two guys and two girls stuck in a poorly secured apartment building in the middle of a dead city, and I guess the chase for something more stable was inevitable. Anything goes when you're alone and desperate, even the 'help' of an anarchic military group.


I'd give the world to just be without it all. If I'd just stayed in that bloody hospital, everything would be peachy fucking keen.

Let's go back here for a bit shall we:

If I'd stayed in the bloody hospital, I wouldn't have found Selena and Mark. I'd probably be dead after a short while, but Mark would sure as hell be alive, and I guess that would be good enough for Selena (after all, she didn't warm up to me until after we'd found Frank and Hannah anyway).
Seeing as the direction we were going in when I spotted the lights from Frank and Hannah's apartment was back from my parent's house, Selena probably wouldn't have found them. If I'd have stayed in the hospital, that is.
Without the help from my brave Selena, Frank and Hannah wouldn't have dared to venture out.

ERGO: None of us would not be HERE. Yeah, I'd be dead - or worse, one of those creeps out there on the lawn - but even that's better compared to this shite.

He strokes my back again, and I feel a thousand little, icy spiders crawling under my skin, up along my spine.

"Come back to bed, Jim," - His feeble attempt to sound seducing. If he were trying a bit harder I might just submit... "JIM!" The gentleness of his voice disappears in the blink of an eye, and his pleads are now commands... As if I were one of his soldiers.


Were it only so.

I'm not really a hundred percent on exactly how and when it started, but I guess it began with me seeing less and less of Selena and Hannah. At the time I had no idea why, and whenever I tried asking them, they both seemed reluctant to talk about the matter. Never really been a smart bloke, and even though it should have been really fucking obvious, I didn't see the warning signs: Hannah's eyes had recently gotten a glassy, dead kind of look, but of course I figured it was because she had just lost her father. Whenever I tried talking to the girls at all, corporal Mitchell gave me this bitchy look - but I figured that was just him hating my guts... Mitchell was of the jealous kind.

I had at that time no suspicions of what was going on, but I must say I wondered what they were doing in those rooms. It seemed strange to me that the major insisted on giving me a room of my own, and that the girls were told to bunk up with the soldiers.

For my part, I started feeling anarchy on my skin a few months ago... Or maybe it was a year, I can't say I know for sure (- but who's counting anyway, we're in year zero as far as I'm concerned!).

Ever since we first came to the house, I've felt someone staring at me....while I was showering. But then again, I felt that all the time as a teenager as well - I was a self-conscious boy. So I took it for being a case of paranoia, and thought no more of other possibilities. "Who would want to see a pale-arsed skinny girlieboy nekkid anyway?" ...heh. O, the irony.


It was not until a month after our arrival that I realized how wrong we'd been about this place.

I was showering more often now, and I quite liked it as well, even though I had to be very quiet about it.... (else the privates would have great fun with turning on and off the tap in the kitchen, leaving me with hot steaming water at times and ice cold at other) It was the only thing that made me forget about the curse of eternal tedium this place was damned with, now that I didn’t have Selena and Hannah to talk to. And lately, I hadn't felt the stinging eyes of a stranger observing me.... Until one morning, when I heard a creaking of the door.

I turned the shower off, and called out into the vast bathroom, the practical emptiness of the space giving back nothing but an echo of my own, nervously anticipating voice.

There was no reply.

As I turned 'round to put the water back on, the floor creaked. My head shot back to the door’s direction, and I jumped a little at the sight of major West emerging from the dark corners of the room. I instantly covered my genitals with both hands.

"Like the water?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Like the water?" he repeated, with slight pressure on each syllable.

It's not that I didn't catch it right away, I just didn't think this was an appropriate question to ask, seeing as I was standing before him fully exposed... So I ignored it.

Blinking in confusion, I asked him: "How long.. how long have you been standing there, major West?" As I was very startled, I could hardly say shite, but this I managed to utter... in my own time.


He said nothing, but started slowly walking - no, marching, more like - keeping his hands behind his back and his head slightly down all the while.
When he was about five inches from me, his head tilted up and exposed a grin that made me feel very uncomfortable, yet at the time I could not comprehend just what detested me about it... I felt sickened in a way, and couldn't understand why.


After a few seconds of the uncomfortable grinning his smile subsided, and his eyes shot down to my chest, where he carefully laid his right hand. I wanted to run away, but I was too fucking terrified to move.
His fingers traced their way to my clavicles, and, from fear of realizing that it wasn't just my twisted imagination pulling my leg, I refrained from looking down to where he had placed his hand. In stead, I stared right up into his face, but his eyes only met mine sporadically during those few seconds - they were fixed on my body.


His left hand was brought up to my cheek, the fingers dancing over the pale skin. I felt something tickle my neck, and found that this was where his right hand had worked its way up to. The fingers of his left hand continued down to my bottom lip, and soon, a new grin formed on his stern face... A grin more repulsive than the last.

He must have seen my horror, for he tried to calm me down: “Don’t be afraid, Jim,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”


Looking into my eyes, his face twisted into something I can’t possibly describe sufficiently in words, but it was something of a part smile, part frown.

“God, you’re tempting.”

Without warning, his left hand grabbed the back of my neck, forcing me into a violent kiss. He let his right hand drop, and his fingernails dug into one of my arsecheeks. I felt West's hard crotch grinding against mine as he moaned and growled...

We stood like this for a while, despite my futile struggling. I, being a puny bicycle courier, was no match for a life-size G.I. Joe like West. He bit into my neck, and while his left arm had wrapped itself around my waist, his right hand started rubbing my package.


"Oh Jesus, let it end," I thought. "Let him change his mind and remove his hands off my body. Let him apologize now and just. fucking. leave."


But it never happened. Not for another two and a half hours, anyway.

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TO BE CONTINUED....

(PS: this is NOT a rap video, so it WILL definitely be continued..!)