Under Her Touch (All Of Me Shudders)

You give a mighty roar as you crash down, your world; a muddy river and an angry dark sky and pain pain pain, is bouncing, all your careful planning flung out the window with your stupid (stupid stupid) decision to jump and you are no longer weary and no longer frustrated and no longer cold. There is pain and wind and the terrible, beautiful now.

(You crash down).

Somewhere above you, Dina is screaming something and

(you think it must be your name).

"Ellie!"

Something is clatching at your ankle, growling and screaming in a raw and deep voice, howling like an animal, jabbing sharp pain into your flesh and you shake your leg you shake your leg you shake your leg, violent and panicked and screeching.

"Get off me! Get the fuck off me!" you snarl and you spit and you swear. You try to knock off the thing that's hanging around your ankle, wrestling and screaming meaningless curses.

You jumped. You jumped, like a motherfucking idiot, leaped from the roof like a madwoman, no time to carefully walk across the carefully laid bridge Dina had so carefully planned, and you crushed to the side of the building, painfully and helplessly and fast, and now you give a long aching groan as you slide, flailing and yelling, trying to get a grasp on something solid before you'll fall into the fast waters bellow you.

(The thought of water – cold, angry, crushing water – Is as scary as the infected that's hanging from your ankle, snapping its jaws, trying to take a bite off your leg, unaware of the danger of certain death beneath him).

"Ellie! Fuck! Oh my god!" Dina is screaming, sharp and urgent, and scared. "Pull yourself up! Fuck! C'mon! I can't reach you from here!"

You thrust your legs, kicking and swearing (and kicking and kicking and kicking). The infected is too busy trying to bite you to hold on tight and his grip on you is a faint one (something that is easy enough to break). You manage to push your foot into his face, kick him twice in the head, and he lets go with an angry scream that rings in your ears long after his body hits the crushing water.

Dina is yelling (your name and something else you can't quite catch, though you can make the several 'fucks!' she groans from time to time). You tighten your hold on the wall you're hanging from, rearranging your aching clumsy fingers, ignoring the wind that's tearing at your shirt, flapping your hair, blinding your sight.

The rain is coming hard, in fat drops that plaster your hair to your forehead. Your vision is dizzy and a little skewed and your head is throbbing. You feel like you can hardly breathe.

"Ellie!"

(The wall is slippery with blood and dirt and rain. Slick and difficult to hang on to).

"Fuck!"

(Your chest is on fire. Every breath you take is a struggle).

"Hang on!"

(You're chocking, swaying, swinging, grasping at the slick stone, every muscle throbbing, your breath a wheezing gasp).

The group of infected on the other roof are barking like dogs, mad and angry and excited, and one of them jumps. He is eager and spitting and screaming but he's too far and he doesn't have the momentum to leap safely across the street, so he falls from the roof, screaming, frustrated more than scared.

"Shit! Ellie! Come on! They're getting closer!" Dina's voice is pure panic. Now that the infected saw you jump, a couple of them try your approach (though all of them end up like the first one, flailing limbs and angry cried and crushing bodies into raging raging raging river).

"Come on!"

You snick a blurred glance behind your shoulder, shadows dancing in the corners of your vision, rain splashing on your head.

"Ellie!"

"Arghh!" You answer and you push yourself up, your chest is a painful spot in the middle of your body and you are having trouble breathing.

"Arghh!" Spit is flying from your bared teeth, the rain falling hard on your face, hammering on your skin and skull, a painful wet rhythm of abuse. You try to drag yourself up but every movement is pure torture. Every strain on your muscles is pain pain pain.

Everything hurts. Your lungs burn and your arms bleed and your ankle is a terrible spasming piece of meat that dangles uselessly under your body, pulling your weight down. Your eyes are tearing up and your throat is sore and your ears are ringing ringing ringing with screams and growls and screeches that you hope none of which are coming from you.

Dina, on the roof, just outside your reach, is getting frustrated with your slow pace.

"Ellie! Come on! Just one push and I'll be able to help you! come on!"

You pull yourself faster, finding footing on the edge of a broken window, and using it to help you drag yourself up. You give a decent push and then there are stretched arms, tanned and dirty and strong and covered in blood, waiting for you to grasp them.

You let out a cry (relief and anger and pain all at once).

The side of the building is thudded into your stomach and the impact drove all the wind out of you. You clutch desperately to what you can find (wet wall, wet roots, wet iron, wet cloth) and you have no strength and no breath and no power left in you to pull yourself up.

(Water and dirt and crumbling plaster are sprinkling into your eyes and you grit your teeth and dig your fingers deep into whatever you're holding onto, whishing for your burning muscles to stop trembling under your skin long enough for you to pull yourself over the edge).

A warm hand clamping around your wrist. "I got you!"

You lift your head, squealing with relief. Dina's face is above you, screwed up in furious frustrated angry effort (her lips are white and her eyes shut tight and she's groaning groaning groaning while pulling you up inch by inch and)

(You're a deadweight of fright and tired limbs and shaken muscles and you're doing very little to help her).

You groan as your injured shoulder stretches, feeling like your arm might rip from its socket. You're gasping and kicking and mumbling something (a wordless violent song of curses and swear words) and Dina gives a mighty grunt and pulls you harder.

(You can hear her mumbling her own encouragement to herself through gritted teeth).

Your flailing foot catches something (Dina groans a relieved 'yes!') and you shove yourself upward and over the edge.

You sprawl on top of her. She falls backward and drags you with her, arms secured tightly around you, and her breath coming in rapid huffs. You grunt something (maybe her name) and let your body sink into her embrace.

"Fuck…"

Both of you are just lying there, you're on top of a breathless Dina, trying to catch your wheezing breaths, soaking wet with sweat and rain, grunting, groaning, moaning with effort, and with pain and with relief (sweet sweet happy relief).

"Motherfucker…"

You can feel Dina's chest rising and falling with every labored breath she's drawing in, hissing something to herself. beneath your ear, her heart is hammering and if you weren't so spent and so frightened and so shaken, you would enjoy the rare intimate closeness of this hug.

You lift your head and look at her, drawing in a hard breath. Dina's eyes are shut and her mouth is pressed into a scared pale line. She seems to be somewhere else, swimming in thoughts that are thousand of miles away from you.

"You okay?" you ask tentatively and she nods but her face is ashen and sweat runs down her temples, into her hair, and you think she must feel something like horror and something like crying and something very similar to what you are feeling right now and (it's everything but okay).

"Mostly".

"Shit. Dina…" you fish for words. "I know it was stupid. I know I shouldn't – "

Then she's kissing you and you can't (you don't even try to) talk.

It's hard and nothing elegant and everything urgent. She's pushing up and you're struggling a little, knocking chins and teeth and noses. You try to twist your head to one side and Dina goes the same way and you catch your head on her brow, teeth scraping, hands gripping, hungry mouths fighting for a better kiss.

You kiss awkward. You kiss urgent. You kiss fierce. It's a neat roughness you haven't experienced so far, and you're kissing like you're running out of time.

Dina pushes forward, almost knocking off of her. You manage to stay in one place, straddling her, and she tears at you, biting biting biting at your bottom lip, sucking and kissing and licking at your mouth.

The rain is pouring stronger now and the infected on the other roof are still trying to cross over to your side, but all you can see feel hear is your breaths, heavy and hot and panting. You snake your hand around Dina's back and she pushes her fingers into your messy hair and you bite down on her tongue.

"Ah!"

You move away, chest heaving. Dina is looking up at you, eyes wide and lips swollen and face flushed.

"Hey," you say gently. "We're okay. It's okay".

"Yeah." She says and pulls you in a hug, falling back to the wet slick roof.

You put your head on her shoulder. Dina is breathing breathing panting and she mumbles something you don't understand. It sounds like some sort of a chant. Like a spell (like a prayer like a poem), and you are fascinated (captivated) by the foreign words.

"Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel l'chayavim tovot she-g'malani kol tov".

"What?" you ask, not moving.

Dina doesn't answer (you don't ask again).

It's good to have her flushed against you, have her arms pulling you into her chest, (even here, on a wet cold half-collapsed roof with hungry infected swarming around you, in a strange awful hateful city, it's good to have her close, breathing into your ear, lips still stinging from the heated kiss you shared just moments ago).

You close your eyes and let the moment drag out. You know that soon you will have to move, will have to make the distance between you and the infected on the other roof. But for the moment, for a blessed couple of seconds, you just let yourself rest in her arms and breathe in her homey smell.

(Her smell makes you think of bonfires and sunny days at the lake and wooden decks and spilled whiskey. It makes you think of your small place and of guitar strings and snowy paths and)

(You desperately want to kiss her again).

"You feel so good." You murmur into her collarbone and Dina is laughing, her whole body's shaking with laughter and you find that you're laughing too.

"You're high on adrenaline," she says.

"Maybe. But you still feel good".

"You feel good, too." She replies and her voice is intimate, hushed. Her arms are softer now, and something is shifting between you and there is no more urgent needs. (No more scared hammering hearts). You swallow the lump in your throat and try your best to remind yourself just where you are (if you don't, you're afraid you might do something entirely inappropriate).

You lift your head, just a little, and press your mouth to hers. You kiss her because you can and because you're young and because you almost died and you're done denying yourself the simple pleasure of her hot hot hot mouth.

You try to keep it soft and lovely, but Dina kisses you hungrily (more teeth than lips) and you are reminded again of just how badly you want her.

(Your heart is racing and your mind is clouded, your thoughts swimming somewhere far far far away).

The moment ends too soon and Dina breaks the enchanting spell of the aftermath of almost dying by pushing you gently away.

"C'mon." she slaps you affectionately on the back, (dangerously close to your butt), and you groan but get up anyway, pulling her with you.

"Oh," Dina says, more a breath than a word, and gestures at your chest.

It takes you a couple of seconds to realize what she's trying to say, then you lower your head a catch a glimpse of your clothes.

Your shirt is a mess of blood and dirt and it has a nasty tare from your shoulder to your side, exposing your whole body to the cold air. Your jeans are just as messy, torn at the knees but usable. You look up, a little flustered at the exposed skin you're displaying and you notice that Dina's clothes are just as dirty and wet as yours (though her shirt isn't torn to pieces and her jeans are whole).

"Shit." You hiss and give a shiver. you zip up your coat up to your throat, to keep the cold air and the cold rain and the hot hot (dark, lusty) stare away.

"Don't worry," Dina says and her voice is a little thick and a little nervous and a little too excited. "We'll find something else for you to wear".

You nod. The wind blows and hauls like an angry animal. The rain is a constant pour above your heads. From the other roof, the infected are making an unnerving chorus of frustration; moans and whimpers and groans and sobs you think you'll never get used to.

You wince as you stretch your arms high, smoothing your hair. Your shoulder aches as you lift your right hand. You take a deep breath and press your fingers to your ribs, checking for bruises. Everything hurts but nothing is broken, as far as you can tell, and you think it must be your lucky day. Dina raises one eyebrow at you and you shake your head.

"That was one hell of a jump." She says, disbelief and shock and something like pride evident in her voice.

(It was and you're glad you have lived through what you think is one of your stupidest ideas so far). You don't know what to say so you just shrug, pulling your shoulders high around your ears.

Dina is just staring at you. She's dark and solid and shivering, mouth a little swollen from your previous heated kiss. She looks young and sad and tired and a little angry with a touch of sulkiness around her that makes her look even more beautiful than ever.

You work your toes nervously inside your shoes, poking at your sides with stiff fingers, checking for possible injuries you haven't noticed. Dina tames her messy hair with trembling hands, tugs hard at her hair, smoothes her shirt, and shoulders her backpack. Her movements are sharp, precise. All business. When she's ready, she just stands on the roof, a dark figure against the stormy sky.

You take a deep breath. Both of you are dirty and wet and cold and tired. Dina has a gushing wound on her forehead and her nails are cooked with dried blood. There is nothing you want more than to hug her.

"Hey," you say. "You alright?"

"I will be when we get away from them," Dina answers with a twist of her mouth and points to the next roof, where the groups of infected grew into a small hoard. They all stand there, snapping their jaws at you, moaning and sobbing in their sick whiney language.

The smell of shit and dirt and sweat, the smell of rotten bodies and onions and something metallic (the stench of the infected) is standing strong and present in the air (inside your nose). amongst the hunched figured, a huge bloater is roaring, waving its hands and sending toxic clouds into the air. The infected move around him in a haze.

You step closer to Dina, a little hesitant. She's looking at you and you feel a wave of nervousness surge through you. gently, you take her face in your hands. She's very serious and very soft and you kiss her on the lips.

"Let's keep moving".

She smiles. "Where to, now?"

You wince as you work your fingers into your backpack and produce the map you found the other day, just outside of Seattle. It's old and a little torn around the edges, but it's useful and you already added some notes on locations you've visited.

You shield the sogging paper from the drizzling rain and inspect it, Dina a warm presence at your right.

"We haven't been here, yet," you say as you tap a finger to a close location. Dina is looking doubtful (she's looking scared and tired and a little baffled like she can't quite believe you both are still alive). "We can check it out".

"Sounds good. As long as we make some distance between us and them." She points her thumb behind her shoulder and it's a good point.

You scan the roof, shielding your eyes with your hand from the rain. There's a square of grey stone with a heavy door in it on the far side of the roof and you point at it.

"We can try the stairs." You offer.

Dina licks her lips. You don't have much choice, so she nods gravely. You walk across the muddy roof, and through an iron door into the darkened building. The place is gloomy and wet and Dina calls softly at you to watch your step. You wipe your hands on your jeans and produce a gun.

"Hey, babe?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you say, back on the roof?"

You are sliding through open doors, staying close together. This building doesn't smell as bad as the last one and you keep your gun low, pointing it at the floor a step or two before you.

"It's a Jewish gratitude prayer. You say it after completing a dangerous journey." Dina's voice is soft, quiet, and quivering and a little clogged with emotion. Her voice gets this thick when she's talking about her family, about her past before she got to Jackson, and you know just how painful memories can be.

(You want to touch her. You want to let her know you're right there and that she isn't alone, but you remember her sad eyes after she recited the prayer and you keep your hands to yourself).

A waft of heat spills from inside the apartment you're going through. Something deep inside the building is giving a welcoming glow, and there is no signs of life, infected or otherwise.

"You gonna have to say it one more time," you aim at a joking tone but it comes out flat and small. "When we're back in Jackson with fucking Tommy".

As you go deeper, the ramble getting stronger and you think it must be some sort of a machine, working deep inside the walls. It sounds like a huge generator, growling and mechanic, and a little rusty.

(It's hot here, just like in the other building, but after lying on the roof, soaking wet with rain and sweat, you welcome the heat).

You are staring at Dina's back as you walk through the corridors and the staircases. She works her shoulders uncomfortably, the yellow light of the old lamps illuminating her in a dream-like halo.

She makes a small noise, like a sad chuckle and your heart gives a shudder (something like breaking).

"Dina?"

"Yeah?"

"We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry. It was stupid".

"Not more than usual." She says and a smirk appears on her lips. The smirk grows into a full-blown smile and you shove at her, playfully.

She's smiling, crooked, and happy and shining and a sort of inner warmth spreads inside your chest.

"Shut up." You grumble but it has no force to it, no actual meaning, and Dina knows it.

She takes a deep breath. "It's a good prayer," she says in a more serious tone. "You don't usually say it like that. You're supposed to say it in front of a congregation, a prayer quorum, in a synagogue. But," she shrugs uncomfortably. "Well… you know".

"What do the words mean?"

"It means to say how grateful we are for God's reward of goodness".

You take her hand and put your fingers through her. "I like it." You say and you don't try to kiss her.

"Me too." She answers and leans forward and catches your lip between hers.