Snippet 103: The Bra Scene

"We've got a horde," Sam announced.

"Where?" Gabby demanded, his hand leaping to his holster.

"Down the street."

"Fucking hell. Do we evacuate?"

"We kind of have to - get the others up, I'll put the supplies away."

"Righty-o," Gabby said lightly, heading for Cat's room, next to his down the hall. He didn't knock as he entered the room.

"C'mon, Kate, we need to move."

"Morning, Gabby,"

"You OK? Zombies outside, let's go."

"I need to get dressed," Cat yawned.

"Fucking wimmenz," Gabby groaned, "Alright, meet us in the kitchen then."

---

"They're breaking in!" Vicky warned, aiming at the rotting fist that had punched through the door.

"Cat!" Gabby called, running back to her room. This time, he didn't knock.

Cat had trousers on but, it appeared, hadn't made it as far as her top half. Gabby stumbled to a halt in the doorway. Cat looked up as he came in but she dropped her eyes almost straight away and silently turned her back on him. Gabby winced. Even after a week the livid red welts across her skin were visible as she struggled with her bra and dark purple yellow bruises stood out on her upper arms.

"Gabby, I..."

"It's OK. I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'll give you another minute."

"No, Gabby, I can't," her voice was desperate. "It hurts too much, Vicky usually helps me."

Gabby realised she was trying to close the bra behind her back, keeping it clear of the scars and twisting her bruised arms to do so. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward. Meekly, she let him take the ends of the bra from her hands and then she stood quietly as he fastened it gently over her damaged back. It was just his luck. He had spent the best part of fifty years undressing her with his eyes. Finally, when he got the sight of the real deal, that bastard Simon Brankin had messed it up for him.

"All done," he said quietly and she nodded. He handed her the T-shirt that was lying on the bed and then the jumper to do over it.

"We're ready," Gabby sighed, pushing out of the door. Danny frowned at them, noticing Gabby was blushing slightly.

"You took your time, we've already lost the kitchen!" Sam said reproachfully. He was cradling a shotgun, pacing in front of the hastily-barricaded kitchen door.

"Sorry," Cat squeaked. Gabby smirked, unholstered Slasher, and suggested,

"Shall we go then?"