Contents
Copyright
PREPPER GIRL
About the Author
More From Verily
Copyright 2016 by Verily Harden.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any people, places, business entities or other things are a figment of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious way.
This work may not be copied or reproduced by any means known now or in the future, or published on any site without express written permission of the author, with the exception of brief excerpts used in reviews.
“Well, this is it. My old room, now ours. If you want to change your mind, this is the last chance. Once we go in, we won’t come out unless we’re a couple, for life.”
Paul gulped. It was like every dream he’d ever had, since he’d first seen her glowing brown skin as she walked into the store, three years before. He’d imagined what it would be like to be her lover, much less her man, and now it was about to come true. He didn’t know if he could control himself, if he could speak without making a fool of himself.
So he did the only thing he could think of, and swept her up in his arms. Carly laughed, and opened the door.
“That’s my boy. Go all cave man on me, baby. Show me what being with you is all about.”
He kicked the door shut and strode to the queen size bed that took up most of the room. Laying Carly down gently, he began to unbutton his dress shirt. He dropped it on the floor and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped.
His pants and boxers followed the shirt, while he stepped out of them and his shoes. It took only a moment to push his socks off, and then he was standing before his dark goddess, proudly erect.
end of excerpt…
The coffee maker was on the fritz, so going without a jolt of caffeine was only the start of a very bad day. If things went as usual, it would only get worse.
Paul Hampton was overworked, underpaid, and lacking enough sleep to do more than wander through the day like a bad grade movie zombie. But, he kept trucking on because what else was there to do? It wasn’t like he could live without money, those dreams of sitting on some warm beach with a hot babe on each arm and a smoking bowl at his beck and call were the stuff of a kid’s fantasy.
No, he was living the life of the great American working stiff, barely making it on his salary as an assistant store manager for a local chain store. Every day was rolling into the next, with nothing terribly exciting to mark any particular one as different, or even slightly memorable.
So when the old, sputtering coffee machine that leaked and brewed a particularly horrible brew finally gave up the good fight, he just scratched his head, grabbed his bus pass, and went to work. With luck, someone would have started the office machine and he could at least get a quick cup of joe before the boss started riding his ass.
And maybe, just maybe, he would get a chance to get out the girl from the company’s accounting firm, who was due in to take care of the pre-tax season mess. She was one classy broad—no, woman, Paul reminded himself. What was he, thirteen? No, Carly Simmons was classy, and all woman. She had the looks to make a man’s crotch grow to epic proportions and make his mind take trips to a dream world he wouldn’t want to leave.
Too bad the attraction was all one way. Paul had tried to talk her up, maybe get a date out of her, but she’d put him off every time he tried. Didn’t date anyone at work, or associated with work. Which sucked, but it wasn’t like he could clobber her over the head like a cave man. Much as he might want to.
Paul’s thoughts were pleasantly occupied with thoughts of Carly while he waited for the bus. He had a photographic memory, and he could recall details of every outfit she’d worn in the past three years (not too tight, yet stylish), how she’d worn her hair (usually natural, but sometimes done up close to her head), and what her perfume smelled like (a floral musk).
It wasn’t until he’d been standing at the bus stop for thirty minutes that Paul realized the bus was late. Which meant he was late, and the store manager would be shitting glass. Paul dug out his cell phone, finally getting it to turn on. One more thing he needed to update and upgrade, like that was going to happen any time soon.
And of course, he had no signal. So not only was he late, but he couldn’t call in. He’d had no coffee, his stomach hadn’t seen a bite to eat, and the chewing out to come was only going to aggravate that ulcer he was getting.
Great. All he needed now was for global warming to finally kick in, sending the world into a final decline. Or maybe somebody would finally get one of those infamous suitcase nukes into a major city, or an asteroid would hit, probably right over his head. With his luck, it would some combination that would leave nothing but a smoking hole where he stood.
Paul’s thoughts kept moving on to even more imaginative disaster scenarios as he waited for the bus. The wind shifted, blowing the tantalizing odor of brewing coffee his way. He was at the point of risking missing the bus, and then having to wait half an hour for the next one, and rushing down the block to get the largest cup of whatever he could get.
His leg was twitching as he fought the urge—it was one thing to be late, and then there was late—when a huge, black Cadillac Escalade careened to a halt at the curb, barely missing him. The paint was so glossy he could clearly see himself reflected, like looking in a mirror.
“Hey, dude, no need to get so close!” Paul started in on the driver as the tinted driver’s window began to roll down. He stuttered to a stop when he saw who was behind the wheel.
“Oh, hey, Carly. I mean, Ms. Simmons. Didn’t recognize your ride there. And it sure is a sweet one. Must have set you back a bundle, not to mention the gas this thing must go through.”
Oh, he was babbling. He did that a lot when he tried to talk to Carly, which is why she probably refused to consider going out with him. Shut up, Paul. Zip it, before the woman finally writes you off as a fool.
“Shut up, Paul.” Carly growled, frowning. Paul was taken aback when she repeated what he’d just been thinking, but managed to recover, or thought he did. His reflection closed its mouth, at least.
“Sure.” He had to bite his lip to keep from starting off again, the rambling idiot that he was.
“Look, get in. We need to get going.”
Her voice wasn’t friendly at all, and the look she gave the others waiting for the bus made it look like she was sizing them up for cement overshoes. He started shaking, thinking she’d heard something about him that put him on some sort of stupid man hit list.
But that’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t have any reason to be mad at him. He only wanted to go out with her, after all. Surely that wasn’t a crime?
“Um, okay,” he said. “Why exactly do we need to get going? Going where? I mean, the bus is late, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. I’d be at work in an hour, maybe less…”
“Paul. Shut up and get in the car.” Carly narrowed her eyes at him, her luscious lips pulled into a thin line. She was tapping her manicured fingers on the steering wheel, looking more impatient by the second. Paul knew that look. It was the same one his mother used to give his father when he was too slow to accomplish whatever task she felt was in dire need of doing.
Some of the other people waiting for the bus were looking at them, curious glances that Paul knew would turn to laughter no matter what he did. So he decided to remove himself from whatever jokes would be lobbed at him, and stepped off the curb.
It felt like it took him forever to get around the huge SUV, but finally he was at the passenger door. He heard a solid thunk as the lock disengaged, and pulled up on the handle. He was reaching over his head, and he wasn’t a small man. That fricking vehicle was huge.
After he’d clambered up int
o the seat and shut the door, Carly hit the locking button and pulled out into traffic. The squeals and honking that move brought didn’t even faze her, and she accelerated into the heavy morning traffic like it wasn’t even there.
Paul’s heart was thumping like a bad disco floor, and he couldn’t help wondering what the hell was going on. But he wasn’t about to ask Carly, because the look on her face didn’t invite conversation. One thing he’d learned was to keep his mouth shut when a woman didn’t want his input.
So he sat quietly watching as cars and pedestrians alike jumped out of the way of Carly’s monster SUV. She barely slowed going through intersections, and not at all at any stop signs they crossed paths with on their way. At some point, he realized they were heading out of town like a band of outlaws with the sheriff on their tails.
But he wasn’t going to ask why, at least not until she looked less like a character out of an action movie. Paul sat back and tried to think of pleasant things, like ice cream and puppies.
* * * *
Twenty minutes into his unexpected ride with the woman of his dreams, Paul finally noticed that while she still didn’t show any signs of stopping at designated points, neither did anyone else. It was like a mad free-for-all, like a Mad Max movie cranked up to twice its usual speed.
“Carly, wouldn’t it be a good idea to kind of take a minute at the traffic lights? I mean, it seems something has happened and they aren’t working. I think it would be safer to slow down and be courteous.”
“Gee, Paul. I’d surely like to, but if you haven’t noticed, people are getting a little wild West out there. Maybe you missed the guns waving and the blood?”
Paul humphed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, Carly. I was just trying to help keep us out of an accident. And while we’re talking, why aren’t we heading for the store? Why bother picking me up, if you aren’t giving me a ride? The bus would have been there sooner or later.”
Carly let out a huge breath, never stopping her swivel that checked side, rear and front of the Cadillac.
“I know he is not this dense,” she muttered. “Maybe I should have left him there, standing and waiting for the bus like a fourth grader. Serve him right, and at least I wouldn’t have to explain it to Daddy.”
“Well, there’s no need for insults. If you’re mad at me, just drop me off at a pay phone and I’ll call a cab. I need to get back to the city so I can show up at work at some point today.”
“Stop being such an idiot. There’s nothing to go back to the city for. Didn’t you see the news? Catch a tweet? Listen to any gossip while you were standing around waiting for a bus that isn’t going to come?”
“First of all, I’m not an idiot. I happen to have an above average IQ, which you’d know if you’d let me say more than five words to you over the last three years.
“And secondly, what do you mean, the bus wasn’t coming? How in the world would you know that?”
She didn’t say anything for a long while, just concentrated swerving around the slower moving traffic. A couple of times she went around cars that were dawdling, even once a rear-ender that had blocked traffic for almost a block. Paul was holding onto the handhold above his head, sweating and praying he’d make it through whatever this woman was planning for him.
“So, you seriously don’t know what’s happening,” she finally asked, her voice full of wonder. “How did you manage to miss the news this morning?”
“I woke up late. The coffee maker was broken, I was trying to catch my bus, and my phone wasn’t getting any signal. And I never listen to people at bus stops. Half of them are crazy and the other half is drunk or high. I get enough crap at work, stuff I have to listen to, so I ignore everything else.”
Carly snorted. “God, you are a funny man. I can’t figure out what it is that I like about you, but that has to rank right up there. Damned cracker has to be the one Gen X without a phone attached to his ear.”
“I resent that comment. How would you feel if I called you disparaging names because of your race?”
At this, Carly broke out into a full-throated, hearty laugh. She threw her head back and let it roll, which caused Paul to have a heart attack as she narrowly missed crushing somebody’s rusty Yugo.
She was still laughing when she whipped the Escalade to the right, crossing three lanes to take an exit he hadn’t even seen. More blasts of horns and a distinct reference to her mother’s sexual habits followed them as they barreled down the narrow road and turned a corner, never slowing down and treating the stop sign like it was a vague suggestion.
“Oh, my god, you are the funniest man. Seriously, do you practice that prissy white bread routine in the mirror? Half the time I can’t tell if you’re serious, and the other half I wonder if I’ve been had by the greatest unknown comic ever.
“But to answer your question, since I’m pretty sure you are the only person in the world who didn’t get the news flash, all the lights went out this morning. Your coffee maker wasn’t broken, it didn’t have any power to make it work. That’s why the bus is late, and all the other buses, trains, planes, cars and other nice things we owe to the gods of the elements, won’t work and won’t ever work again.”
Paul stared at the woman, shocked. She seemed to be serious, but the way this day was going, he couldn’t tell for sure.
“I don’t believe that. The government wouldn’t let something like that happen. I mean, sure, things might be messed up for awhile, but they’d have things running soon enough.”
Carly shrugged, and made a sudden left turn. “You can believe that all you won’t, but I’m telling you, the electric grid is down. All over the country, and if what little news that’s getting out is true, it’s all over the world. Welcome to the 18th century.”
“Oh, my god. Oh my god.” Paul moaned and rocked in his seat, held off the floor only because he had his seat belt cranked tight. It couldn’t be true. How could that have happened, and he not known?
“That’s what I said, when I woke up and everything was dark. My stair climber was stuck, which totally fucked my morning routine, but it turned out nothing was working. The lights were off, and I realized what had to be going on. My Daddy kept saying, people wouldn’t listen and this was going to happen.”
She paused, her mind wandering. “Well, this or a nuclear war. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that this is the end of civilization as we knew it, and I’m heading for home as fast as this piece of junk can make it.”
“But why stop and pick me up? You won’t even give me the time of day, so it seems kind of odd that you’d make an effort to what amounts to kidnapping some guy you don’t even like.”
At the speed they were barreling along, Carly laughing seemed like a very bad idea, but he couldn’t stop setting her off. She had a great laugh, and the way it made her boobs bounce was worth it, if they could manage to not get killed. He watched her chest, mesmerized, until she reached out and slapped him on the arm.
“Ouch! What the heck was that for?”
“That, my man, was for making even this shitty day bearable. I know you don’t mean to do it, but you’re like a natural mood booster. My Daddy is going to love you, even if you are a city-bred white boy.”
Paul was getting a bad feeling about Carly’s father. While he wasn’t too worried about dating a black woman, he knew some had problems with white people. He couldn’t blame them, but he fervently hoped they felt the same and cut him some slack.
Not that this was an actual date, but it was the closest he’d managed. All those nights dreaming about being out with Carly, touching her smooth skin, her bouncy curls that framed her face so enticingly. He was getting a hard-on just thinking about it. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss those soft lips, to whisper sweet nothings as his mouth traced its way down her shapely body.
Carly swung the SUV into another curve, taking them off the main road onto a narrow, less-maintained road. The blacktop was patchy, with pot holes th
at hadn’t gotten any attention this year. The weeds and brush that grew along the sides brushed against the big vehicle, but she didn’t pay it any attention.
Paul tried to distract himself from his fantasy of making love to Carly. That and her driving was making him more nervous as the miles sped by.
“So, if your father doesn’t like white people, why exactly are you taking me to meet him? I’d think it might be better if we took it a little slower, and actually had a, you know, date or several before we got to the meeting the family stage.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that. The world is going to get really bad, really fast, so I’m having to speed things up a bit. And it’s not just meeting the folks, it’s more like, getting you out to the country so you will be alive for all that dating stuff.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess you’re right. But I thought your family lived in the city, so why are we rushing like souls on the way to the Devil to get out of the city?”
“We used to live in the city. Now we’re in the country, where it will be better and safer. Nobody in the city is going to have it easy, but we have a farm and supplies put by, so we should be all right.”
Paul mulled that over. “So you’re what? Preppers? Crazy inbred survivalists?”
“Something like that, except not inbred. Or not yet. Which is why I stopped to get you. If I don’t want to end up marrying one of my cousins, I had to bring my own man. And honey, you’re it.”
Paul felt oddly flattered that she’d chosen to bring him along on this wild ride. Even if he didn’t think it was going to get as bad as she thought—people were civilized, after all—it would be worth it to get the chance to see if those fantasies could come true.
“But isn’t it odd for black people to be survivalists? Aren’t those folks mostly crazy white people, like, Conservatives?”
“You’d be surprised. But in our case, it’s more like being survivors. My family has gone through a lot, and we learned to take care of ourselves, because there wasn’t anyone else interested. So we farmed and made do, and got creative when we needed to, and now it’s going to pay off. Because we’re used to it, and a lot of people aren’t.”
Prepper Girl Page 1
