Paradise of Lead Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  Something stirs in Byron's chest. What is this? He can't take his eyes off her. What is he supposed to do? If she is going to be irresistible like this, then who is he to stop it? "Is that right?" Byron touches his nose to hers. "Well, I bet you've never kissed a M.A.G.E. before."

  When her lips touch his, Byron runs his fingers over her soft shoulders and he breathes in her scent of sweet citrus. Her mouth is warm and draws him in. He needs her. Something is different. Is it bad? No. It's the most correct feeling he has ever felt. Who is this angel that has fallen for him?

  "No sex in the van!" Isidore shouts at them.

  "Shut up, Isidore." Byron says. "We're just kissing."

  "Kissing leads to sex."

  "Shut up!" Byron slides the door closed and focuses once again on Leena's pink lips and warm hands.

  * * *

  As night falls, Leena passes out and Byron leaves her to get some rest. She needs it. Like the previous night, he joins Damien, this time inside the van for fear of Leena being taken again. They roll down the windows and sit in the front seats. Tonight, the sound of cheering blows on the wind from Paradise. There's nothing to celebrate out here. Byron lights their cigarettes and leans back in the seat. "Where are Blice and Isidore?"

  "They are in town getting the supplies we need for making our way to Rubble City. They'll be at it a while. We have no money so they are gambling with what little we have. Blice is an excellent poker player. Isidore . . . not so much. From what I saw earlier, Blice wins some then Isidore loses just as much. How's Leena doing?"

  "She's asleep." Byron says as he glances back to check on her. "Damien, I need some advice about women."

  He grins. "Then you've come to the right place, my friend. Some girl scorn you?"

  "Not exactly. Have you ever been with a virgin?"

  Damien puts his feet on the dashboard and combs his blonde hair with his fingers. "A virgin? Where'd you find one of those? You know that pedophilia is wrong, right?"

  Byron glares at him. "I'm not joking. And no, she's twenty. It's Leena."

  "Really? How? How the hell is she twenty and still a virgin out here?"

  "Don't ask me." Byron says.

  "Well then . . . my first piece of advice is to either take her before someone else does or keep her hidden somewhere until you're ready to do it."

  "That's the problem, Damien. I don't think I can do it. I've never had trouble with this, but every time I think about her . . ."

  "I see." Damien says as he digs in his bag and pulls out a piece of beef jerky. "Maybe you should forget about it until you are ready. Spend some time with her and see where it goes. I'll give you a month before I solve your problem for you."

  That doesn't sound good. "What do you mean?"

  "I'll make sure she's not a virgin." Damien says as he chews on the jerky.

  Byron glares at him. "You wouldn't dare."

  "What's wrong? I said I'll give you a month. You found her so I'll respect your right to her first."

  Byron sighs. That's as good as he's going to get from Damien. Why did he want to talk to him in the first place? Did he really expect anything different?

  5

  Leena sighs and lies back against Byron's chest. He breathes deeply, smelling the sweet vanilla on her skin as he feels the delicate curls of her brown hair. His mind is pushing him towards the edge of a cliff, but he knows he's not ready. This struggle is only weakening him and causing him to doubt his instincts even more. Should he make a move and tell her how he really feels? Oh, Leena . . . every breath she breathes stirs a deep and flowing desire inside of Byron that he hasn't felt since before he lost Aleesha and Meygan. Even compared to those women he cared so much about, there is something entirely unique and unexplored that he feels now as well. It is pure and unclouded by the grittiness and hardships of the world around them.

  Her virginity isn't the only reason he feels this attraction to her. Byron almost feels unworthy to even be in her presence. She is the luscious oasis amidst the wasteland. Even if Leena would let Byron sleep with her, he isn't sure that he would be able to. He has the unexplainable need to protect and preserve her virtue. Every time she touches him, he nearly dies from the growing battle in his mind. He is torn. Does he attempt to do what he wants or does he wait for her to expressly tell him what she wants and how far is too far?

  Then there's Damien's threatening advice. Byron could view this in a different light. If he takes her virginity, then she won't be as valuable to slavers. She already had a close call with that. He would be doing her a favor, right? God knows he wants to.

  Leena's cooing voice breaks his thoughts. "Byron?"

  "Yes?"

  "Have you ever been in love?" Leena asks.

  "I . . . um . . . I don't know if love is the word for it. What about you?"

  She shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe. The man I like hasn't told me how he feels yet. I'll wait for him to make the first move."

  Is she talking about him? Does she want him to make a move? He's never done this before with someone so . . . innocent and it is daunting. What if he hurts her? What if she hates him afterwards? A million questions race through his mind. When Leena slips her dress off of her pale shoulders, Byron's questions fade and he becomes solely focused on her body. "Leena, what are you doing?"

  Leena grabs at his hair and pulls him closer. She kisses him and bites his lip. "I am kissing you, silly."

  "Um . . . you know we can kiss with your clothes on, right?" Please don't get dressed again. Please don't leave.

  "Maybe I want to feel you against my skin." She kisses his neck and Byron has to catch his breath and steady himself.

  Well, she doesn't have to ask him twice. He pulls his shirt off and holds her up against his chest. The warm smoothness of her breasts is both forbidden and welcoming, sinful and holy. Each breath she takes sends a shiver up Byron's spine. Her lips don't stop exploring his chest and shoulders. "Leena, are you sure you want to do this? You're playing with fire, baby."

  She pushes her hair out of her face. "Then make sure not to burn me. I'm not like the other women you've been with. I don't know what to do. You know I've never been with a man before."

  Byron puts his hand behind her neck and leans close to her. "I know you aren't like any other woman in existence. Don't be afraid. I promise I won't hurt you. Trust me."

  "I do trust you."

  "Do you, Leena?" Byron takes her hands and guides them down to his belt.

  "I don't know what to do." Leena says.

  He places his finger to her lips. "I'll show you." Byron pushes her down on the floor.

  Leena's pale skin almost glows in the sunlight coming through the windows. Byron can't take his eyes off of her, not just her untouched body, but her eyes. They beckon to him and soothe a part of him that has been struggling to find peace.

  Byron removes his belt and slides off his pants. He leans over her and gently holds her legs. "Now this might hurt a bit."

  "You said you wouldn't hurt me."

  "It won't hurt for long. Trust me." He lifts her face to meet his lips.

  Leena closes her eyes and holds onto Byron's hand. "I trust you."

  * * *

  Someone's loud and obnoxious laughter wakes Byron from his sleep. How long was he out of it? Something warm moves in his arms. He looks over to see Leena still undressed and cuddled up against his side. Oh that's right. That totally happened.

  Someone taps on the window and Byron looks up as Damien shakes his head. "I see you fixed your problem."

  Byron gets dressed and covers Leena with a blanket. He then opens the door and steps out of the van. "Don't breathe a word to Isidore. Do you hear me? I don't want to be shot at again."

  "Well, it's too late for that, buddy." Isidore glares at Byron and hands him a bucket of grimy water and a rag. "Have sex in it, you get to clean it."

  "We didn't-" Byron starts to speak but he's interrupted.

  "Yah, sure. Wash my van and don't miss a spot. This san
d gets everywhere."

  "Really?" Byron asks.

  "I'm dead serious." Isidore says.

  "You know I'm older than you, right?"

  Isidore shrugs his shoulders. "You know I'm the transportation, right?"

  "I could steal your damn van."

  Isidore reaches to his back and quickly spins his revolver in his fingers then in a flash, the barrel is up against Byron's head. "Steal it and see what happens to you, Erikson."

  "Okay, damn. You don't have to kill people. What kind of priest were you anyway?"

  Isidore tosses the gun in the air then spins around and catches it perfectly on the tips of his fingers. "The cool kind. Next time I ask you to pray, do it." He slides the gun back in the waist of his pants. "Now, get washing. We need to get to Rubble City by morning."

  "Why?"

  "Trust me, we need to get out of here." Isidore says. "There were some inquisitors sneaking around this town. They put up wanted posters and guess whose pictures are on them?"

  "Great."

  "So get to work while we finish up in town. Then we'll hit the road."

  Leena giggles as she watches Byron scrubbing the windows. "What are you doing?"

  "Washing this stupid van." He grumbles.

  "Why? It's just going to get dirty again."

  "If you can't do the time, don't do the crime." Byron says.

  "Is Isidore making you do this?" Leena asks.

  "What do you think? I swear he loves this van a little too much. It's not natural. Come help me with something, baby."

  Leena steps outside. "What do you need?"

  Byron picks her up in his arms and spins her around. "Give me a kiss." He trips over the bucket and they fall back onto the ground as the water spills out.

  "Byron! I'm all wet." She tries to shake off the water, but Byron takes her wrists in his hands and pushes her up against the van.

  Isidore leans out of the window. "Sex on the van counts too, Byron."

  "Go away."

  "Nope. Get cleaning."

  Byron pushes past his growing rage and settles for a kiss. He picks up the rag again. "You know, I really hate you, Isidore."

  "I don't need your approval. Hey, you missed a spot."

  Byron stands then sends the soapy rag at Isidore's face, but the priest draws his gun and fires four shots into it before it leaves Byron's hand. It falls to the ground.

  Isidore aims at Byron. "Don't mess with the man who knows how to use a gun."

  "I . . . how did you do that?"

  "Magic."

  "You ever put those tricky fingers to good use?" Byron asks as he wrings out the rag and shakes the sand off of it. "Like gambling?"

  "I'm a priest." Isidore says as he starts to play a harmonica.

  "So?"

  "The only thing I gamble with is my life on occasion." Isidore says.

  "I have to know. Why are you so obsessive over your stupid van?"

  "Do you have a stupid van?" Isidore asks.

  "No. They're crazy expensive if you can even find one." Byron says.

  "You answered your own question."

  Blice returns and tosses a bag into the van. He doesn't look happy.

  "Thank you, Mr. McSage." Leena says then goes into the van before Blice slams the door hard and goes off into the desert.

  "What's wrong with him?" Byron asks.

  Damien shakes his head. "No idea. I think he's starting to have withdrawals again. We have to get to Rubble City and find him some pills before he has an accident. We can't have people getting hurt."

  Leena slides the door open and steps outside. "How do I look?"

  Byron smiles as he looks her over. Tan camouflage pants, black tank top, boots, and hair in a ponytail. She has never been more attractive to him than in this moment. "You clean up nice."

  "You're a jerk."

  He kisses her. "I like it. It fits you a lot better than that hooker dress."

  She laughs and kisses him back. "I figured I should be ready to fight if it comes down to it."

  "Fight? You can fight?"

  Leena pats Byron's shoulder. "Close your eyes."

  He does.

  "Open your eyes."

  When he opens his eyes, a machete is a centimeter from his nose. He panics and slips on the sand.

  Leena stands over him. "What's wrong? Never seen a woman with a knife before?"

  "Knife? That thing's a sword."

  "Knife, sword, same thing." She helps Byron to his feet then sheathes the machete. "And yes, I know how to use it."

  "Here we go, my little band of criminals." Isidore calls out to everyone and starts the van. "Get your asses inside or get left behind. We're gonna drive all night long and get to Rubble City before Blice starts disintegrating people, before Byron and Leena have some babies, and before Damien professes his undying love for Byron. Talk about drama."

  Damien slides into the van and puts his feet on the dashboard. "What undying love?"

  "Playing the denial card? So unlike you, Damien." Isidore says.

  "I'll show you. Once we get to Rubble City, I'm hitting up every bar and finding myself a nice woman." Damien says.

  "Sure. And I'm President Evans."

  * * *

  Rubble City. Home of gambling, whoring, drinking, and the best pill dealers on the planet. They don't ask questions, they don't take names, and they don't judge. Best of all, the last inquisitors who dared to infiltrate the place got tortured to death over the course of four days in the middle of the city. News of the executions of inquisitors travels fast and people from all over the surrounding area go to Rubble City to watch. The local M.A.G.E.s have set up a type of rebel force here and their militia stands guard all hours of the day and night and they screen the people who enter the barbed wire fences.

  As they park outside, Byron's eyes scan over the defenses. Electric fences, guard towers manned with men carrying machine guns, and gates that can be closed at a moment's notice. Returning here is bittersweet because of the memories. He has been here once before, but that was years ago, back before he got arrested. That one time was enough and now here he is again, where he met Meygan and Aleesha. They were strippers in one of the bars where he liked to gamble. After some heavy drinking and turning his five bucks into five thousand, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted and he wanted them. They became infatuated with him and from then on, they were inseparable.

  Everyone gets out except for Blice who crawls into the front seat and hands Byron a piece of paper. I'll stay with the van. Just get me my pills.

  "Are you sure?" Byron asks. "We could be here a while."

  Blice glares at them all and turns on the radio.

  The others leave, but Byron takes a few steps towards the city gates then makes his way back to the van. What is Blice up to? Byron is going to find out what is wrong with this guy. The way he has been acting is concerning. Byron crouches down behind the van and listens closely to the transmission coming over the radio. Sounds like it is coming from Paradise.

  "This is President Evans of The Unified State. We have received further information about the criminal M.A.G.E.s who managed to escape three days ago from Prison Four. Their names are Damien Montgomery, Byron Erikson, and Isidore Williams. They are armed and highly dangerous. As failed experiments, they are a risk to the lives of the people in Paradise, the other enclosed cities, as well as those in the wasteland. If you see these experiments, you are to shoot them on sight. Remember, it is not murder. They are not people. They are just like machines or any other mechanical construct. I am raising the bounty to ten million dollars for Montgomery and Erikson. If you manage to eliminate Williams, the return of the microchip in his brain will be worth one billion dollars. It is of upmost importance that we recover that technology and not let it fall into the wrong hands. Our last reports show them heading towards Rubble City. A unit of inquisitors has been dispatched in that direction and if they are in the wasteland, we are certain that we will apprehend them before much d
amage can be done. Remain vigilant and ever faithful in your government. From your capital of Paradise, goodnight."

  A slip of paper falls at Byron's feet. He picks it up and reads it.

  You don't have to spy on me.

  He looks up as Blice is standing over him tapping his foot. "Hey there, Blice. So, they're sending inquisitors, huh?"

  Blice's cold purple eyes reflect no sign of friendliness.

  Byron stands and laughs. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"

  Again, no answer.

  "They didn't mention your name on the radio. I guess that's a good thing for you."

  Blice only glares at him with a darker glaze of contempt in his eyes than Byron thought possible for a human.

  Byron hands Blice the piece of paper in an attempt at communication.

  Eventually Blice takes it and writes something. Don't spy on me.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. Do you want to come get something to eat?" Byron asks, trying anything to get him to stop staring at him with those accusing eyes. "Isidore and Damien are drinking and it's pretty funny."

  You've been here the entire time. I'm not stupid.

  "Blice . . . I didn't mean anything by it."

  Blice crumbles up the paper and tosses it on the ground before going inside the van and slamming the door. He turns the radio up and rock music blasts over the speakers.

  Well, at least Byron tried. What is wrong with that man?

  6

  The houses and buildings of Rubble City are pieced together with bits of rubble found out in the wasteland and from the large city that used to stand here. Some say it was a gambling town even back before the war. Mismatched corrugated tin, wood planks, and makeshift doors stand under blue and green plastic tarps that billow and flap in the wind. At least they have M.A.G.E.s who control electricity to power the lights that line the streets and inside the buildings. This is the most advanced common person's place in the wasteland, at least from what Byron has heard. There have been rumors of places with actual buildings and architecture still standing in the Northeast where a group of survivors was able to gather together and build their own small versions of Paradise.