DISCLAIMER: The Bond universe is the creation of Ian Fleming. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Ground Zero - England, 11.19am
By ralst
The Aston Martin swerved across the meridian and ploughed through the throng of lunging undead, clearing a path to the baseball bat wielding woman swearing up a storm. Gravel flew in every direction as Jane applied the breaks, and with a suave grace totally out of place amidst a zombie attack, stepped from the car and introduced herself to the stunned stranger.
"Hello, I'm Bond, Jane Bond." Jane's smile was a perfect mix of arrogant charm and reassurance. "And who might you be?"
The woman's lip trembled, but she rallied valiantly, and promptly threw herself into Jane's arms; her heaving bosom and enticingly placed hands bringing a devilish smile to the spy's lips, before she swept the woman off her feet and unceremoniously threw her into the car.
"Hey!"
Jane's Walther PPK made quick work of the two zombies that had been approaching from behind, but the small handgun was no match for the thirty or so lumbering bodies headed in their direction. "Hold on," she instructed, slamming the door shut and jamming her foot down on the accelerator, sending up a second cloud of gravel and liberally covering the nearest undead with tiny grey flecks, to compliment their ugly grey skin.
The woman looked terrified as they side swiped two more zombies, before heading back onto the motorway, and speeding away from the waking nightmare that had befallen her what felt like a lifetime ago. Taking a moment to calm her nerves, she took her first proper look at her benefactress; lustrous dark hair, flawless skin and a face that spoke of untold wickedness and fun, it was as if she'd been rescued by some advertising executive's idea of a fantasy.
"Are you real?"
Jane laughed. "From the top of my head to the tips of my toes." She laid a reassuring hand on the other woman's knee. "You'll feel better when we get somewhere safe."
"Safe?" Her eyes reflexively turned to the rear window, where any hint of their pursuers had long since vanished. "Nowhere's safe."
"Nonsense." With the flick of a switch the subtle tones of Nat King Cole wafted through the air and brought a smile to Jane's face. She hadn't used this particular seduction technique since the Albanian Ambassador's daughter, and she was anxious to see if it still worked. "Why don't you lower the seat and get a little sleep? I'll wake you if anything of interest happens."
"Sleep! Are you insane? We're on the run from zombies! ZOMBIES for God's sake!"
The Ambassador's daughter had divested herself of her underwear by this point, so either the technique was outdated or the woman was really concerned about these creatures. "Would you rather I put on some Barry White?"
"We're being stalked by creatures from the grave, and you're worried about the background music!"
The Bond manual on dealing with hysterical women stated that the initial response should always be a slap to the face, followed by a) a deep kiss and promise of ravishment b) ravishment c) a toe curling kiss and promise never to ravish or repeat said kiss unless the woman in question betrayed her country/husband/father or d) a shot to the chest.
"Please calm down," Jane tried, having quickly realised that she couldn't administer a good slap without risking a pileup. "I was only trying to lighten the mood."
"Undead creatures," the woman wailed. "Undead!"
"Really, Madam, if you don't stop screeching I'll be forced to reconsider my plans of seduction."
For a second the woman contemplated taking her chances with the zombies. "Do you really think a zombie attack is the ideal time to try and seduce a perfect stranger?" she asked reasonably.
It seemed perfectly natural to Jane. "Life and death situations have always excited my libido," she explained. "I remember this one time in a Serbian prison -"
"You're not an escaped mental patient, are you?"
Jane turned and gave the woman one of her more winning smiles. "No," she drawled. "I'm perfectly sane."
"That's..." Her breathing laboured and eyes dilated, the woman couldn't tear her eyes away from the seductive charm of Jane's smile. It was as if the zombies and impending doom were suddenly secondary to the charming woman beside her. "Are you an enchantress?"
Jane merely smiled as she brought the car to a halt; the zombies could wait, but her pathological need to seduce could not.
The End