by Pam Godwin
I wanted to understand what that meant, and maybe I would have if I was a believer. “But—”
“Are we going to sit around and recite vagina monologues all day?” He kissed my lips and climbed to his feet. “Or are we going to scrounge up some grub and check on the bettys?”
I gave him an exasperated look, which he laughed at and turned away to tackle the nails on the door.
An hour later and our bellies stuffed with cinnamon Brioche French toast—Brioche! Seriously, the blond-haired cook with the missing finger knew his way around dough, a skillet, and a fire—we made our rounds with the women.
There wasn’t a room large enough to hold twelve dazed and thoroughly terrified patients. So Jesse, Roark, and I spread out between the three bedrooms, updating them on the years they’d missed.
Link’s presence at my side eased some of the fear, since all of the women but two had known him before. By midday, I’d recounted the details of the plague’s origin and the expectations of the healing process so many times Link and his men were able to take over and answer questions from the women who were still trying to wrap their foggy heads around their new world.
As I watched them interact, it became apparent that none of the men belonged to a specific woman. No brothers or husbands or boyfriends. Just as Link had said. Some might’ve been sexual partners before, but there weren’t defined couples. It was still too soon to imagine how territories would be established. The women could barely hold their heads up, let alone begin picking their mates.
Shea tended to their physical recovery with the grace of Mother Teresa. She darted from bed to bed, sometimes singing, always smiling, with a trail of male volunteers on her heels. Her muscle-boys listened to her instructions and jumped on her orders to fetch water, wash blankets, and empty vomit buckets. But their motives snaked a wary amount of suspicion through my gut.
After lunch, I caught her arm in the doorway of one of the bedrooms. “Can we talk privately for a sec?”
“Uh…” Her black curls smoothed into a ponytail high on her head, the hair tie pulling so tightly it stretched the skin on her face, making her eyes appear larger as they darted over the five women filling the beds and sleeping bags in the room. “Liliana needs aspirin. Brooke is demanding a vibrator, and—”
“Wait.” My head jerked back. “Did you say vibrator?”
She lowered her voice and nodded at the brunette writhing on the mattress across the room. “If I don’t strap that girl to the bed, she’s going to be pregnant by nightfall.”
Did that mean I’d passed on my overactive libido, not only to Shea, but to the whole damned house of women? Shit.
Shea squeezed my hand, her focus locked on the women, her mind likely racing through a list of things she wanted to get done. “Just tell me what you need to tell me.”
I glanced around the small bedroom, meeting the eyes of her three male nurses, who were feeding the women from cans of applesauce. There was—shit, I really struggled to remember everyone’s names—African American Beefcake with a trim goatee and two white guys, Sexpot with a tongue ring and Hottie with sleeved tattoos. As illogical as it sounded in my head, they were way too attractive to be trustworthy.
With my hand on her spine, I angled our backs to them and whispered, “I don’t trust them.”
She stuck her chin out, tilting her head slightly and giving me a huh? look.
I kept my voice quiet. “They’re following you around, you’re in here without protection, and—”
“Okay, stop.” She grabbed my arm and turned us to face them. “You.” She pointed at the black guy. “What did I tell you when you got all up in my personal space?”
He rubbed a hand over his neatly-cropped black hair. “That I smell…muscular?”
“No. Well, yeah, you do.” She put her fists on her hips. “But I’m referring to the part about touching me without asking?”
He held his hands up. “I didn’t touch you!”
“But if you did?”
“Oh.” He lowered his arms and lifted his chin. “That I won’t believe what you can do with a scalpel, not even while it’s happening.” He flashed her a gorgeous, panty-dropping smile.
“Breathtaking,” she whispered in my ear then straightened, giving him her own wide smile. “You, sir, are a breath of stolen air.”
Oh, brother. She was flirting with him? I couldn’t stop my grin.
“See? I’ve got this.” She gripped my shoulders and pushed me into the hallway. “Out.”
I let her boot me, but as I fed, clothed, and talked with the women in the other bedrooms, I asked Jesse and Roark to keep their eyes on Shea’s volunteers.
The afternoon limped by, every minute of it dedicated to the women and what they needed. When they tucked in for the night, peacefully asleep beneath Shea’s attentive gaze and guarded by two armed men posted on the stairs, I shuffled outside to acquaint myself with some of the crew.
Jesse and Roark followed me out, and it wasn’t long before we were reclining on the wide porch, passing around flasks of gut-burning whiskey, and sharing stories with three of Link’s men.
Stars lit up the sky in a maze of distant universes, and not so far away, beyond the shadowed landscape of clustered trees and fields, prowled countless herds of aphids.
Their vibrations pulsed inside me, the network of threads spreading out through the cool night air and connecting to hungry beacons in every direction. I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t on edge, but the aphids never came closer than fifty yards, their pulsing signals blinking out before I felt the urge to grab the bow that lay at my feet.
Sitting on the wood decking at the far end of the porch, I draped my arm over Roark’s lap beside me. “How many guards are out there tonight?”
Paul, the black man with the goatee from upstairs, leaned against the railing. “Eight. They wear night vision and sit high in the trees, picking off the bugs before they reach the perimeter of the property.”
My shoulders hunched around my ears, tightening with the chorus of insectile humming in my gut. “No one in your group uses guns?”
“Too loud.” The Hispanic man said. Could I even call him a man? He barely looked twenty.
He’d introduced himself as Hunter, his fingers constantly shoving his long black hair out of his boyish face. Like he was doing now. “We all carry crossbows.”
“Among other silent weapons.” The blond cook, Eddie, passed me a grin. “Knives are my specialty.”
I shared a look with Jesse, who sat on the stairs, the only one not drinking…or talking.
I accepted the flask from Roark, took a fiery gulp, and passed it to Eddie. “Is that how you lost a finger?”
“Yeah.” Eddie flexed his left hand, his ice-blue eyes on the knuckle where his index finger used to be. “Chopping a grisly hunk of deer meat.”
“While he was completely inebriated, mind you.” Hunter laughed then looked at the front door as sudden scratching from inside began to rattle it.
Jesse jumped up and opened it enough to let Darwin slip out.
In a flash of black fur and blurring legs, he scampered off the porch and into the dark.
Hunter stared after him with wide brown eyes. “Did your dog really walk four-hundred miles to track you down and go after a lion?”
A heavy medley of pride and regret tightened my chest. I would never leave that dog behind again.
“Yep.” Jesse returned to his spot on the stairs and stretched his legs along the top step, leaning his back against the post, his eyes roaming over Hunter's Hispanic features. “How did you become the gatherer on this crew?”
Hunter picked at the cuticle on his thumb, his hair hanging around his face and neck. “Link caught me stealing weapons off the Mississippi Queen. Said I was the only guy who’d been able to breach his security and make it on board without getting caught.”
I pursed my lips. “But you said you got caught?”
He nodded. “On my way back to the shore
. There were a lot of aphids waiting, and I only carried guns at the time.”
His gunfire must’ve alerted Link’s crew.
“I grew up on the streets.” Hunter dropped his head back against the wall behind him, staring at the porch canopy. “Stealing was survival. Link calls it gathering, but the mechanics are the same. I go out there, find what we need, and snatch it without dying in the process.”
I sized him up, taking in his youth, his thin yet muscular frame, and his long legs. A runner’s build. I bet the kid could squeeze into small places and sprint like a motherfucker.
I shifted my attention to the black man beside him, his hands huge and calloused, and his biceps stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt.
Paul watched me studying him, the intelligence in his dark eyes a little unnerving. “I’m the mechanic. My daddy taught me, and his daddy taught him. We also dabbled in alternative fuel. You know the gunk that got left in fat fryers? There’s still a ton of it out there. I know how to filter it and use it as diesel fuel.”
Damn. That would’ve been useful when we couldn’t find gas on our way to the mountains.
Roark leaned forward, his fingers absently tapping my leg. “When we go after Michio and the Drone, we’ll need a mechanic with us. All that fecking walking…” He rubbed his stubbly jaw. “It’s wheels only from here on out.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Paul rested his elbows on the railing and looked at Roark. “Already talked to Link about it.” His eyes hardened. “After losing my wife and kids, I would love a chance to gut the monster who created the plague.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, waiting for my overzealous hoots of joy to break free.
“He desecrated the religion of Islam.” Paul’s brows pulled down, forming a harsh line. “I’m Muslim, and we’re a peace-loving people. I hate that he wiped out the planet in the name of Allah.”
“Me too.” I offered him a soft smile. “But you realize he’s mentally deranged, right?”
“Yeah.” Paul nodded. “I’m not sure Allah would forgive him at this point. I don’t, which is why I want to help take him down.”
“You need a cook?” Eddie held up a hand, waving it. “Count me in.”
“Me, too,” Hunter said, his knees bouncing. “I want to go.”
That did it. I laughed loudly and shook my head. I didn’t get it, though. I mean, why would they want to leave all these women and join us?
There it was, my poisonous suspicion.
Jesse sat quietly, chin tilted down, seemingly lost in his head until his eyes drifted up, scanning the three men. “A thief, a cook, and a mechanic. None of you were on Link’s security team before the outbreak.” He nodded at the house. “Why are you here? What do you get out of this?”
Paul straightened and met Jesse’s eyes. “Twenty…fifty…hell, hundreds of years from now, people will tell stories about the brave men and women who ended the suffering and gave hope to the new world. They’ll write children’s songs about us, name cities after us, and erect bronze statues of our naked bodies.” He made a face. “They better give me a full-sized penis. None of those little shriveled-up Roman peckers.”
He wanted a statue of himself with his dick hanging out?
Hunter and Eddie nodded their heads in agreement.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Sounds a little narcissistic, don’t you think?”
Eddie cocked his blond head. “Would you rather us be motivated by something more cliché, like raping and killing?”
I dropped my hand. “Of course not.”
Hunter frowned at the dark landscape. Maybe he was older than twenty, but the twin dimples denting his hairless cheeks made him appear permanently boyish. “We want a better life, Evie, and we want to be a part of its creation. We’ll sweat and bleed for it. Some of us will die in the process. So why not be remembered for our efforts?”
Understandable. They wanted to be forefathers, legends, and maybe they would be. Not through gathering or cooking or killing the Drone, but through the most basic, most important responsibility of all: Reproduction. There were thirteen women upstairs, most of which would likely become pregnant within the next couple months.
Even now, I felt more women on the horizon. It was a subtle feeling, just a blip here and there, lost in the vibrations of aphids. But nymphs were coming, the flickering chill of their torment tapping like ice-cold fingers against the lining of my stomach.
I gripped Roark’s hand. “There are nymphs out there. They’re far away, farther than I thought I could sense them, but they’re headed this way.”
Five pairs of eyes locked onto me, the men’s shoulders snapping to attention.
“How many?” Roark pulled me into his lap, moving my legs to straddle his. He was probably recalling the agony I’d suffered last time, his arms wrapping around my back as if to comfort me. “How far away?”
I smoothed a hand over the bumps of braids above his ear. “Miles. Days. I don’t know. It’s so faint, but it’s an accumulated feeling. A gathering? There could be hundreds of them.”
“Hundreds?” Jesse jumped up, grabbed his bow off the ground, and strode across the front lawn, searching the darkness. “We don’t have the capacity to help hundreds. Why now? Why so many?”
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
He paced in front of the porch. “Are you evolving? Sending out signals? Or is it the combined potency of so many cured women together?”
“I don’t know!” My teeth gnashed in frustration. I softened my voice. “But we have a little time before they show up.”
“Okay.” He shoved a hand through his hair and climbed the stairs to crouch beside me. “Okay. We’ll figure it out. We have help now.”
He looked at Hunter, Paul, and Eddie like he wanted to trust them, but I wasn’t sure he did. I wasn’t certain I trusted them. Reaching that level of confidence, believing a person was good, honest, and able to be depended on took time. It required consistent proof. Especially in this brutal world.
I swung around on Roark’s lap in a half-straddle with my leg draped over his groin. Hooking an arm around his bare shoulders, I nuzzled his ear and trailed my fingers through his whiskers. I had an ulterior motive for my open display of affection, but the twitch of his cock beneath my leg was a nudging reminder that he was no longer celibate.
His breathing kicked up, and he shifted beneath me, probably wondering what the hell I was doing.
I set my gaze on the three men watching us. “You talked about the glory in children’s songs and bronze statues, but none of you have uttered a word about the one thing I know you all want.”
All three of them looked away, hands curling, jaws flexing.
“I don’t trust people who don’t curse or talk about sex.” I watched their nostrils flare and shoulders tighten. “Everyone has at least a sliver of crudeness that slips out. If you don’t show any vices, I have to wonder what you’re really hiding. My mind immediately jumps to…oh, I don’t know, whips and chains and locked doors in dark basements.”
“Evie…” Jesse said in a scolding tone.
Yeah, I was baiting them, but I wanted to sleep tonight, knowing at least one dirty secret about the men we were rooming with.
“I heard you screaming yesterday.” Hunter looked up at me. “We all did.”
I wasn’t ashamed, but I should’ve felt bad. Really fucking bad. Twenty-one men, men who hadn’t had sex with a woman in over two years, had to listen to me bellow in all my orgasmic wonder.
It worked to my advantage though. If they’d harbored any doubts in my lovers’ abilities to satisfy me, they didn’t now. Maybe they wouldn’t be as eager to step in and try to fulfill that role.
I cleared my throat. “And?”
“I wanted to be in that bathroom with you.” Hunter tucked his hair behind his ear, his eyes on his sneakers. “I wanted to see you while you—” He coughed. “While you made those sounds. I want to know what you taste like, feel li—”
Roark put his hand on Jesse’s arm, lowering it. “Let them talk.”
Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “If we’re speaking candidly…” He arched a blond brow at Roark. “I don’t want a broken nose.”
Roark gave him a nod, but the air on the porch stretched with tension.
Eddie drew a deep breath. “Every man in this house is wondering what he has to do to become one of your— What do you call them? Your guardians? That’s assuming you only let guardians into your bed.”
Jesse’s posture became so rigid he looked like he was seconds from exploding out of his skin. But Eddie and Hunter had given normal responses, the kind I would expect from normal, healthy men. Normal was good. I could deal with that. It made me sympathize with them. They had gone so long without the love of a woman. But they had options now, right upstairs. If they left with me, it was possible I’d be the only woman, so I needed to be very clear.
I reached over and flattened my hand on Jesse’s stone chest. “I only let men I love into my bed, Eddie.”
Eddie grinned. “I’ve got an apple pie recipe that’s left a trail of broken hearts in my wake.”
His teasing tone coaxed me into laughter.
A small smile twitched at the corner of Jesse’s mouth. I moved my hand from his chest, and just as the tension faded from the air, a low growl sounded off the side of the deck.
Darwin sprinted from around the corner, hackles up, ear pinned close to his head, and slowed at the stairs. His body lowered to the ground, slinking forward, his lips drawn back in a snarl. He wasn’t walking toward the surrounding field. No, he crept up the stairs, eyes on the door, tail straight out, his barrel-chested growl reverberating through my bones.
I was already moving, heart racing, bow in hand, but Jesse beat me to the door. I didn’t know what spooked Darwin, and I didn’t question it as the tornado of black fur whipped past us and into the house.
Several men in the front room gave us curious looks as we tumbled in and ran after my dog. Darwin darted straight, then left, his claws scrabbling across the floorboards and toward the interior stairs.
