Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  “All I need to know is whether or not it broadcasts live.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Your best guess?”

  “Maybe? Yes.”

  Cade walked to Dolby and patted his back. Cupped in Cade’s hand was the slime. Once Joe made contact with Dolby, he stretched up his back and over his bald head.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “Just relax, Dolby. Joe’s a friend.”

  Leanne gasped. “Cade, what are you doing?” She rushed over to Dolby.

  “Just let Joe do his thing. Dolby will be fine.”

  “The lost sheep brings a fox home with him, yeah?”

  “He does, Brother, a fox or maybe a wolf? Maybe Cade is another wolf. A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Gerd said.

  “Yo, you can trust little ole’ me,” Joe sung out.

  “Is this why you didn’t wake Dunyasha, Cade?” Natalia asked. “Because of some treachery?”

  “It’s not treachery!” He roared and then returned his gaze to the slime; Joe had already begun to spread over Dolby’s eyes. “Do it, Joe.”

  His little tentacles knocked Dolby’s thin glasses from his head, and once in place, Joe vibrated and Dolby suddenly dropped to his knees.

  “What is this? What is all this?”

  “Everything Joe knows about technology from the past twenty years.”

  “Yo, especially the video game systems. I love me a good FPS.”

  “God in heaven…” Dolby said, quickly trailing off.

  Cade watched the room. Nicodemus had stood up and taken off his greatcoat. He was relieved the big guy was there to protect him.

  “You okay, Petar?” Cade asked, trying to read the man’s inscrutable face.

  The old man nodded, his expression unchanged. Cade was happy for that much.

  “There, pally, you see all that?” Joe asked as he oozed off Dolby’s head. “Any of that make sense to you?”

  “Give him a minute,” Cade answered for Dolby. “It took me a few minutes to make sense of all you showed me.”

  Nicodemus turned his head to Cade and whispered, “Do not trust all shown.”

  “I know.”

  “Liars. Sliz’. All liars,” Nicodemus said and then spit.

  Dolby crawled to where he had pitched the camera and stood up. When he rose, he had a stunned look on his face that said more than words could have.

  “This model broadcasts to web servers that post the video images it captures live on the Internet.”

  “Then it caught Gerd and Georg feeding.”

  “I’d wager so.”

  “This one, the scientist, he wears a slime for a hat and then has the audacity to say we’ve been caught, Brother.”

  “Ja, the slime must’ve made him crazy in that bald head. Web servers? What does this mean? Does he talk of spiders? Does he think us captives in a spider’s web?”

  “The Internet,” Cade said loudly. “I know you all know what it is. I’m sure you all remember Dunyasha’s speech before we went to ground. Human technology, it connects everyone on the planet. Cameras can take pictures that are not only instant, but also instantly printed and distributed online. This camera did that.”

  “It did,” Dolby agreed.

  “It watched you feed. And, therefore, so did the humans.”

  “How many?” Georg asked.

  “Where?” Gerd asked. “We will kill them all.”

  “You don’t understand,” Cade said. “It’s too late.”

  “Prizraki.” Nico said, his jaw dropping.

  “The wraiths,” Cade repeated. If they weren’t coming before, they certainly are now.

  “My goodness. The wraiths? Here?” Leanne looked like she was about to swoon.

  “They’ll come to kill us all,” Natalia said coldly after taking Leanne’s hands in hers.

  Petar cleared his throat and then spoke loudly and slowly. “She needs to rise, my young friends. You are going to have to be the one who wakes her, Cade.”

  Cade looked down at his feet. “I know.”

  Dead Memories

  Jackson woke to the sensation of movement at the end of the cot he was sleeping on. Moselle sat on the corner, busy removing the linens that were wrapped around her legs.

  It was hard for him to tell if it was morning or not, he’d been underground too long and his brain was beginning to feel foggy.

  With a long yawn, he stared sleepily at Moselle’s long black hair. It curled at the ends, at mid-back. With each movement, the strands swayed side to side. He loved her hair. He loved to look at it, touch it, and especially wrap it up in his fist and pull it tight over her back during sex. They had made love twice last night, and it had barely quenched his appetite. It seemed the more time he spent with her, the more he couldn’t tear his mind away from being inside her.

  He combed his fingers deeply through her hair. It startled her at first, but by the time his fingertips reached the ends, she was relaxing into it.

  “That feels nice.”

  “I’ve brushed your hair before.”

  “Yes, with my brush, never with your fingers. This…this feels exquisite…” Moselle trailed off with a purring sound. “Keep doing that,” she said. “I love how your fingertips feel on my back.”

  Jackson stopped. “Moselle, hand me your knife. I’ll cut off the rest of your linens.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

  Knife in hand, he stared at himself in the polished reflection.

  After several long breaths, Moselle felt Jackson carefully slide the knife under the fabric wrapped around the small of her back and turn the edge of the blade up to cut. After the first few wrappings popped, he pulled the blade straight up and cut the rest of the linens off her torso in one smooth motion.

  “So bold…” she said expecting a reply but there was only the tip of his finger as it drew a line down her spine. “Jackson…” Moselle sighed. “Your touch is full of lust and roguish intent.”

  He was off the cot in a second and in front of her before she could say another word. Startled, she held the linens he had just cut pressed tightly to her chest.

  “Why are you covering up?” he asked as he removed his pants and underwear.

  “I don’t know.” Moselle tried to lift her eyes from his bulging erection, to look him in his face, but could not. “The energies down here…they’ve suddenly changed. I…”

  Slowly, she watched him raise his rigid hard-on to her lips.

  “Oh. Is this what you want?” she asked softly, reaching her hands around to the backs of his legs and breathing over his tip. “You want my mouth?”

  “Yes.”

  When she pressed her large breasts to his groin she felt his body shudder.

  “Is that all you want?”

  “Give me everything you have. I want it all.”

  “All of my body?”

  “All of it,” Jackson answered certainly.

  Moselle took him in a tight grip, one hand on his shaft, the other cupped underneath his sack. She opened her mouth as she gazed up at him to make eye contact. Something seemed off. His eyes were nearly vacant, but caught up in his brimming desire, Moselle did not let her concerns slow her actions. Instead, her soft lips worked the head of his penis as she slipped it bit by bit inside her mouth.

  “Yes. That’s good.” Jackson closed and reopened his eyes slowly. “So good. Yes, let my warmth fill your cold mouth.”

  Moselle slid him in and out of her mouth faster, plunging him deeper into her throat at times. He moaned loudly as she felt him grow harder. Has he ever felt such intense pleasure before…has any man?

  “I’ve wanted this more than anything and it feels like I’ve waited…waited forever.” Jackson placed his hands on his hips. “Moselle Abdul Aziz Al Ghurair of Thebes, you’re all mine now.”

  The sound of her name so perfectly pronounced made her stop, and after she withdrew him from her mouth, she gazed up. He stood triumphantly above her; a look more smug tha
n pleasure-filled on his face. What is he thinking? What games does he play?

  “Jackson, my love. I have never heard you speak my full name before. To be honest, I did not think you knew it, or if you did, I thought you would at the very least pronounce part of it incorrectly.”

  He stepped closer and placed himself between her breasts. Once there, he began to thrust. “Moselle Abdul Aziz Al Ghurair.”

  Moselle shook her head. No, he does not sound like himself at all. “Jackson? Jackson?”

  “After your mouth and breasts, I will take your pussy and then your—”

  “Jackson!” Moselle recoiled.

  A sudden rumble stole both of their attentions. The entire room began to shake and all manner of things spilled from the tables and shelves.

  “Our time has come!” Moselle screamed.

  Jackson stumbled backward and when Moselle stood to help him, she tumbled over too. Hands and knees in the sand, she could feel the grains shift and slide, moving like hundreds of thousands of ants racing beneath her fingertips. Terror filled her lungs until she screamed. “We’re sinking!”

  “Moss,” Jackson called out as he tried to get his footing. “What’s happening? I can’t stand.”

  “I fear the wraiths have come and now my house will be swallowed up like the hospital.”

  “We have to get out of here!” he yelled over the rumbling.

  “There’s no escape!”

  “There’s always an escape!” Jackson shouted as he finally got to his feet, pulling his pants on.

  “Osiris, hear me! Is this your calling to Duat or is this the wraiths come to annihilate my soul?”

  Jackson took her hand and squeezed it tight. He looked her in the eye. Whatever lust-fueled wickedness had filled his blue eyes moments ago was gone.

  “You are not dying today, Moselle,” he said, yanking her to her feet. “Let’s go!”

  “The wraiths have come for me,” she whispered.

  “Fuck them.”

  Moselle snatched Jackson’s shirt from the end of the cot. He’s right, she thought. Why should I capitulate so easily? My father taught me better.

  Jackson pulled her towards the main stairs, but the house was shaking so much, she could not seem to stay on her feet. As the rumbling got louder, things fell from above—it sounded like bombs were being dropped.

  “We’ve got to get out of the house. It’s going to come down on us.”

  No sooner had Jackson said it, than a cloud of dust and debris puffed out from the stairwell into the room, that path was blocked.

  I was entombed before. Moselle looked intently at the collapsed stairs. I thought the gods wanted me free, but now I realize I have angered them. They wish to make my very home my tomb.

  Great Ra, forgive me for my trespasses. If you have tasked Anubis and Ammut to carry out your judgments, then please, I beg of you, let me take the burden for them all. Spare Jackson. He knows not our laws. My fate is my own. “My fate is my own, Great Horus!”

  “Fuck.” Jackson coughed, as he fanned at the cloud hanging in the air.

  Moselle could’ve sworn she saw the form of a man with the head of a falcon in the dust. He was a pale shadow at first, but when she focused, she was sure the man looked at her and bowed before he vanished.

  “Do not give up hope.” She suddenly filled with confidence. “There’s a second way up, my love—an old service elevator. Past the storage closet on the far side of the room. My father always called the elevator ‘wedjat’ or ‘the great eye of the sky,’ because it reaches the roof and gives access to small tower that my father used to like to—”

  “Does it work?”

  She finally pulled on Jackson’s shirt and answered, “Of course it does.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Once more, Jackson drug Moselle forward. He said something as they moved, but she could not hear him over the sounds of things breaking and falling all around her.

  My lover, my home, my cats, my history: all are at risk. All could be taken from me at any moment. Do I have your protection, great Horus? Is that why you have shown yourself to me? Will you stand against the wraiths?

  A sense of certainty filled her gut. This is not how the wraiths work. They are silent assassins, not wrecking machines. Not atomic bombs. “This is an earthquake!” she shouted.

  “A bad one, yeah!” Jackson shouted back. “A very bad one.”

  As they trudged on in the sucking sand, past the supply closet, there was an explosion and the door to the room blew open.

  “We gotta move faster, Moss.”

  “I’m trying, but this wretched sand keeps swallowing up my feet with each step.” She looked back at the supply room. Thick, white smoke and dust filled the room behind her, but something else was there in the grey—something that sparkled.

  “That door over there?”

  Moselle looked to where he was pointing. “Yes, that door.” She turned back in search of what had created the glimmer.

  “How does it work?”

  “Go inside. Close the grate. Pull the lever, and…” Moselle forgot.

  “Push the button?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “It would better serve you to hope that the electricity still works.”

  Jackson turned the handle to the door and pulled it open against the shifting sand that had pushed up against it. Moselle saw the sweat on his brow and the way his hands shook: he was afraid. She tried to look him in the eye as he pulled on the rusting grate to the elevator.

  What takes precedence in his fears? Does life entombed underneath the wreckage of my home terrify him worse than death itself? Sudden death—no time to say good-bye. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gripped it gently. I could not bear to lose you. Is that his greatest fear too, the fear of losing me? I need to tell him.

  “This thing needs oil.” Jackson grunted as he slid the door slowly open.

  “There might be some in the storage closet.”

  Moselle turned, and there, in the dissipating cloud of smoke, she saw the was sceptre she had laid eyes on days ago. Its golden head was the glimmer she’d seen earlier.

  Compelled to go to it, she snatched the was from the ground and returned to Jackson as he finally shoved the grate fully open.

  “Quick, get inside!” he shouted. “What is that for?”

  “I—”

  “Oh. Good idea.” Jackson took the scepter, shoved one end into the grate, and quickly used it as a lever to close it. “I hope this works.”

  “The gods have kept us alive this long,” Moselle answered before she pressed the button that engaged the elevator’s engine.

  “Then pray to them. Tell them we need another five minutes at least.” Jackson looked deep into her eyes.

  “I will.” She returned the look. “I love you, Jackson. Always and forever.”

  He pressed the button again, and the elevator’s panel lit up. The shaft shook and the service elevator swayed side to side before it was suddenly tugged upward.

  Steadily they rose. Up and up as dust and rubble sprinkled down on them. Jackson took her and squeezed her in his arms. “I love you too, Moselle.”

  Natural Disaster

  Moselle wanted to cheer as the service elevator stopped at the ground level and she saw a clear path in front of them. She had feared all levels would be blocked with debris after access to the garage in the basement had been.

  Four of Moselle’s guards waited at the gate and pushed it opened the moment the elevator came to a halt. They looked like they had favored well, but the concerned expressions on their faces were almost too much for her to handle.

  “Mistress, are you well?” one asked.

  “I am fine.” She nodded. “Is it over?”

  “I think so,” Jackson replied, his palm out as if he was checking for drops of rain.

  “Are you hurt?” another guard asked immediately. “Your wrappings—”

 
“I’m fine.”

  Her senior guard, the one who had frequently vocalized his distaste for Jackson, moved from the back of the group. His voice took dominance over the others. “Step back. Give her room. You, get the mistress some water, now!”

  “Your concern is touching, but as you can see, I have escaped the subbasement without even a scratch on my skin.” Moselle stepped off the elevator and with her arms out and palms up, she slowly spun around.

  “Mistress, your dress,” he nodded to her chest. “Your nightly wrappings are half-off and this thing you wear, it hardly covers you.”

  “I was…” She looked down at herself; Jackson’s tank top covered her, but not appropriately.

  “She’s fine,” Jackson said, reinforcing her statement.

  “No, I am not.” Moselle was beginning to yell now. “I will not be gawked at. Do not stare at me. None of you. Understand?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  She covered her chest with her arms and gazed down at herself again. How can I expect others to look past my breasts when even I cannot?

  She shifted her gaze to her legs, where lotion-soaked linens remained to mid-shin. Moselle grit her teeth as she saw a fine coating of sand down her ankles and atop her bare feet. Sand…I’m tracking sand into the main house, breaking one of my father’s rules for the guards. How can I lead them when I am so careless?

  Moselle steeled herself as she lifted her eyes to the senior guard. Now was a time to be stern. “Tell me, was this an earthquake or something more sinister?”

  “It felt natural, mistress. I doubt it was an attack.”

  “It was an earthquake, Moss,” Jackson said as he stepped from the elevator, but then he stopped and looked back into it. “Hmm…”

  “What?”

  “You know those movies where the moment someone steps off something it crashes, crumbles, or falls apart?” Jackson looked up. “Like the elevator’s cables would have just snapped and the thing would’ve suddenly dropped back down into the basement.”

  “Jackson, you’re being nonsensical.”

  “No, it’s weird. I just had this sensation, like the moment I got off the elevator…it was gonna drop and…boom.” He motioned with his hands. “Big puff of smoke.”