Katey-Did

Chapter Two
Drowning and Dizziness

At the sight of the glistening water, Lindy ran forward. She began shedding her t-shirt and skirt revealing the white, sleeveless undershirt and the small pair of shorts she had become accustomed to wearing due to her active states at school, the silliness of Catholic school requiring skirted uniforms; he was glad he had been expelled from the hell-hole. TJ was used to her stripping down even to nothing and jumping into the water; before then, he didn’t care that she would run naked into the lake or exclude shorts with her uniform, but now that she was just scratching thirteen, he felt better that she was aware of her body growing up even though she didn’t want to personality-wise.

This was a different part of the lake than the side they normally rampaged through. It was broader, less shallow places for tall grass and snakes, but fish would be darting among the rocks. That would keep Lindy busy. So he thought. There was a strip of sand far off inside the lake. It caught Lindy’s attention when a crane moved and flew off of it.

“Let’s go out to the sand bar!” Lindy yelled, diving into the deeper water, “Race ya!” Her arms thrashed wildly as she stroked forward.

TJ caught what she said while removing his shirt and shoes, and just as she dove off, he evaluated the scene. The sandbar was too far. “Lindy, stay up here,” he called out to her. Lindy never, but once (and it was the last time), disobeyed him. She trusted his word ever since she was told to go to her room. She didn’t listen to him and received an angry smack from their father for one of his bad moods.

Something wasn’t right, though; she wasn’t turning back. “Lindy?” he called again. He listened and realized her splashing was too loud and she was already too far for her to hear him. “Lindy!” this time he screamed. He heard a faint call from her that sounded like “I’m winning.”

TJ quickly waded out to the deep and dove forward, using the force to propel him farther to gain on Lindy. They never swam out this far without lifejackets; the lake was too large, too deep, and too desolate—no one would be there to rescue them. As he swam on, he could hear Lindy’s strokes slow in pace, then the splashing stopped.

“I’m almost…” Lindy struggled to move forward, her voice tired and out of breath. How far had she swam? She could see the sand bar, but it seemed so far out of reach, “…there…” She herself started to realize something was wrong alittle too late.

TJ kept swimming; he had barely broken one-third the way to her. His arms pulsed and burned with every movement, but he had to go, go faster than he already was.

Lindy stopped kicking her feet. Only her arms moved and they weren’t keeping her head above water. “I’m…” she said trying to coach herself now rather than brag. She bobbed up and down from the water, a technique she learned with her lifejacket when she got tired, “…almost…” But she didn’t have a lifejacket. As she went down, it became harder to come back up. Her body sank further away from the surface. With every aching muscle, she pushed herself back up above the water. Pressing the air out of her lungs, just as her entire right side cramped, she screamed, “Tee Jay!!!”

~*~

Katey rolled over. Catherine was passed out on the cot next to his. Beer and his Old Charter bottles lay empty and scattered about. He sat up to investigate the tent. Everyone was asleep. Beth had curled up next to Flynn, Blair slept in the fetal position on the far side, and the Bible-thumper was hidden beneath the covers attempting to get as far away from them as possible. Grimshaw was not present—he must have left to his own tent.

He wasn’t too sure what time it was. It was probably fairly late; no sounds could be heard outside the tent. Unable to fall back into slumber, Katey got up, put on his coat and hat, and left the tent to roam the compound.

There were groups of military folk scattered about; a few night owls like Katey wandering and loitering near unguarded property, preparing for a snatch here and there. Some people were trading toilet paper for bottled water, matches for flashlights, and children for aspirin. Katey remembered how his household had treated the years before the supposed "Y2K" craze; around 1996, his father wanted his mother to abort Lindy; their father abandoned Lindy and Katey on town square in October of 1999.

Whatever happened to unconditional love?, Katey questioned his brain cells. His brain cells answered with an image of “Doc Chainsaw” (as Dr. Roberts was lovably nicknamed). Oh, yeah, Katey recalled. It wasn’t the zombies; it was the panic that drove people to lose all sense of moral, but he didn’t lose the unconditional love he had for Lindy when situations of panic occurred. So what was it?

Katey came across Klinger’s tent. A little bit curious and a larger bit concerned, Katey quietly peered into the tent. Blacking out drunk while standing was a sign of near alcohol poisoning. Luckily, Klinger was awake.

Klinger looked up at Katey with glazed eyes. He was still somewhat drunk. He didn’t say anything as Katey walked in, he just blinked.

Katey walked over to the cot where Klinger laid on his stomach, arching his neck to continue looking and blinking at Katey. “Are you feeling okay, sugar??” Katey asked.

Klinger looked around the tent as if what he was about to say was secret. He drew his eyes back up to Katey. He seemed to be straining so Katey sat down on the floor on his haunches at eye level with the sloshed grunt, balancing on the bed. Katey feared he was too close to the man, but Klinger didn’t move nor appear uncomfortable so Katey stayed put.

Klinger’s eyes seemed to shift. “Uh-huh,” he finally managed as an answer. He fidgeted until he managed to find his watch, which was still on his wrist. His eyes squinted as he tried focusing on it. Giving up he let his arm fall toward Katey. “What time is it?”

The arm fell less than a centimeter away from Katey’s nose. He had a feeling that if it had hit him he would not be able to answer Klinger’s question. “2:30,” Katey said, “in the morning.” It had only been three hours since they had been drinking. Considering that the state Klinger was in then, he was probably still far from sober. Katey considered the collected data and summed up the scene before him: he would need to be prepared for anything Klinger would say, and he needed to remember that Klinger could break him in half if he caught Katey trying to feel him up while he was passed out.

“I have twelve hours until I’m back on duty,” Klinger said, almost to remind himself. “Where’s Grimshaw?”

Katey shrugged.

Klinger didn’t seem too concerned, “With the medic, I’m sure.” Katey didn’t correct him.

Katey listened to Klinger ramble drunkenly from one subject to the next. Most of it, Katey couldn’t catch because he was mumbling; he just sat and listened, trying to read lips which he soon deemed impossible once Klinger started spouting German syllables in between American dialect.

After thirty minutes, the conversation started to veer towards sex. Where this came from, Katey was unsure—maybe Klinger was thinking of his wife? Then he started asking about Katey and sex.

“So,” Klinger said, “Is this Za-zeer guy a boyfriend of yours?”

“Za-sir,” Katey corrected the mispronunciation, “She’s my old girlfriend.” Klinger apologized for choosing the wrong gender and Katey went on, “I guess she’s still my girlfriend—there was never a breakup.”

“What? Are you some kind of, uh,” Klinger fumbled through his vocabulary for a slang word, “player, cheater?”

Katey’s eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I mean, you were like,” Klinger explained, “All hitting on me when you had a girlfriend already.”

“Shit,” Katey smirked, “She’d get off on watching me with a guy!”

“Oh,” Klinger nodded, “So you’re like, um, a bisexual?”

“Very much, yes,” Katey answered with a somber smile on his face.

“You can only have one—!” Klinger rolled over and sat up. He threw his legs over the side of his bed and sat on the edge. “That’s like, a rule, isn’t it?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Katey suppressed laughter. “Let me put it to you like this: as a bisexual, I’m sexually attracted to both genders. I sort of can’t pick just one.”

“Just pick the one you love most,” Klinger suggested.

“Now see…” Katey said turning his body to face Klinger, “That’s where things become difficult…”

“Well,” Klinger thought for a moment for variables by which to determine a favorite gender. “What about the basics? Like, which kiss better?”

“Females—,” Katey answered quickly then decided to back up his statement, “Girls tend to have a variety of ways to kiss.”

“There, then,” Klinger was about to ask why Katey wouldn’t only take girls, but Katey beat him to it.

“However,” Katey adjusted his seated position and took his hat off. “Sex with guys is better.”

Klinger was again going to throw another “why” question but was stopped again by the answer.

“Thing about that is guys tend to put very little emotion into sex; and believe it or not,” Katey informed, “I tend to crave emotion on the occasion."

Klinger still wanted to continue the argument, not to be a prick but because it was fun and interesting. “Then who gives better head?”

“Now, I,” Katey repressed laughing but still smiled at having to recall experiences, “would have to say guys.”

“What?!” Klinger straightened his posture in disbelief, “No bullshit!? Really!?”

“Seriously,” Katey nodded, “Guys give better head.”

“You’re lying,” Klinger meant to say it as a joke since he wouldn’t know about the guys, but Katey took it seriously.

“No—,” Katey crossed his arms over his chest almost in annoyance but mostly for defiance; he knew he was right, “And I can fucking prove it!”

“How?” Klinger inquired, a bit of his own defiance signaling in his voice.

It took Katey a moment to gather the courage to suggest what he was about to say. He didn’t expect the conversation to go this far, lead to this point. “I,” Katey stuttered but regained strength in his voice, “I can show you, dammit!”

Katey had to run Klinger’s response through his brain again to make sure he heard correctly. What he thought would be said was “I’ll take your word for it” or “No, that’s okay” but it was far from those answers.

“Fine, then,” Klinger said as he began to undo his belt.

“Huh?” Katey was still unsure he understood.

“I’ve gotten head from chics before, but never a guy,” Klinger clarified, “You’ve given head before, right?”

“Hell,” Katey replied almost braggingly, “I fucked Jason’s world up not more than a week ago! ‘Course, I’ve given head!”

“So what’s the problem?” Klinger stopped at his pants button making sure he wasn’t moving too quickly. “I mean, you were hounding over me less than ten hours ago.”

“I know,” Katey said timidly knowing well his cheeks were brightening into a pink hue, “I’m just shocked…”

Klinger looked down at himself for a moment while Katey continued to blush. “Well, I’m having problems getting hard, though,” Klinger mentioned, not just to inform Katey but to ease him of his loss of composure. “Not used to taking on guys, you know.”

Katey thought for a moment. He remembered a time when he was fifteen and in his friend Derrick’s room, by themselves, after Derrick confessed his wanting for experimentation. He recalled how Derrick managed to get Katey off.

“Well,” Katey took a place on the bed and tugged at Klinger to join him, “I know a way that might help, if you wouldn’t mind that is.”

Klinger shrugged, “Sure I guess, but…what are you going to do?”

Katey suppressed a giggle. “Kissing, groping and what not—things that will entice you.” He made a suggestion, “You could close your eyes and tell yourself I’m a girl if it’ll help.”

“This is true—,” as Klinger began to consider what he heard, Katey launched forward and pressed his lips onto Klinger’s. He almost reflexively shoved Katey away, but he reminded himself of the situation and instead, pulled Katey closer.

Katey’s weight wasn’t enough to knock Klinger down but his momentum gave him enough force to attach himself to Klinger’s body like a leech. As his attachment became tighter by Klinger’s draw, Katey began running his fingers through Klinger’s slicked-back blonde hair. Katey gathered courage and stroked Klinger’s lips with the tip of his tongue. Setting away his fears, Klinger took the hint and opened his mouth a little wider. Their tongues brushed against each other, and Katey felt a sigh from Kruaser’s throat.

Klinger was tense sitting up so he slowly laid back, pulling Katey with him. Katey became careful about where he put his weight onto Klinger; Katey had already gotten a hard-on and if Klinger became aware of this it might break any fragile imagination Klinger would be using to help himself except Katey. But within seconds, Katey was speeding up, pulling away from lips and dotting his way down Klinger’s cheeks, chin, and into his neck, dabbing his tongue into the hollow of Klinger’s throat and tracing his teeth over the soldier’s adamsapple. His hands fell away from the blonde tresses and started clawing at the muscles on Klinger’s chest.

Katey didn’t know what Klinger was thinking, but he knew he heard the man’s heavy breathing, giving Katey incentive to do things to Klinger that would normally get his ass kicked.

The wired Satanist tightened his fists over the thin shirt covering Klinger’s muscular physique, gripping the white fabric and pulled in opposite directions. The tear was like an echo and was followed by an “Oh, fuck!” from Klinger. Katey began sliding himself down the lightly tanned sculpture, pressing his lips onto every patch of skin he came across. He paused when he felt the head of Klinger’s hardened dick catch his chin. He made a jump, extended his tongue and began tracing Klinger’s shaft from bottom to top.

Vocal sounds escaped from Klinger, possibly broken syllables of words or just out-of-practice “oohs” and “ahhs.” But it elevated to profanity when Katey took in Klinger’s entire cock. His thighs flexed with the feel of Katey’s fingertips applying pressure for balance, hot saliva quickly cooling and reheating with Katey’s movement over the area, and the slight touch of a canine and maybe a molar.

Klinger didn’t realize his eyes were still shut. He opened them and arched his head forward to get a glance at the action. He was shocked at how hot Katey was knowing well he was male and what he was doing—in fact, what he was doing made him even more so. Klinger slowly brought his hands up and weeded his fingers through Katey’s black hair. The motion made Katey quicken his speed, and Klinger tightened his grip, nearly tugging at Katey.

Katey’s eyes began to water from the strain he had put on himself, not just physically but the stress of gathering the will to take advantage of Klinger’s drunken request. His hope was that Klinger had sobered up somewhere in the process of this oral sex. His slurred sounds, guttural as they were though amorous, were foreboding indicators of intoxication. Or maybe Katey was just that good?

And that’s when Klinger came. The hot liquid filled Katey’s cheeks and gave him the strange sensation of drowning…