by Randi Darren
Running scout duties never did any good for his nerves.
Between them was the stacked wood for their next evening’s fire, if they could afford to light one. To one side, and within reach if they had to flee, were their packs, saddle, and saddlebag.
Their lone horse was staked a bit to their east so it could graze, and act as a sentry as well.
They’d taken refuge in a forest on the east side of Washington. Vince always felt more at home with trees surrounding him, so it hadn’t been a question if they’d venture into it or not. It didn’t hurt that the further east you went, the fewer people you’d encounter.
Directly to the south of their location was the Columbia River and the front line. Washington had failed their initial push into the south and had been sent tumbling back north. Now trenches were being dug along both sides of the river. Machine guns from the pre-Wastes era were being brought in and set up to cover the river.
For all intents and purposes, the two countries were locked in a struggle that would only end in a bloodbath, and a crushing defeat for one side or the other.
That or never-ending war.
Which left them on the wrong side of the river and wondering if Fes and Meliae had been able to make it across themselves before this situation developed.
Knowing them, they’re fine. Meliae probably went further east until they could find a gap to slip through.
“This one can sense Master through her antennae. It is harder with more humans around, but not impossible.” Petra’s fingers pushed the bolt through its action, testing it while she had it pulled apart.
“Ah, is that how you found me in the party?” Vince asked, shifting his weight around.
Petra’s face screwed up in a scowl, before turning into a smirk. Heat colored her cheeks as she clearly relived some of that night in her head.
“Not quite. This one couldn’t sense Master as well with her antennae trapped in her mask. She was worried at first that it wouldn’t be easy to find Master.”
Sliding the trigger assembly back into the stock, she hesitated, clearly ill at ease.
“This one must admit she couldn’t find Master until she felt… him… wanting… her. The strength of Master’s desire was palpable. It was like being struck with it.
“That’s why this one regrets losing the dress. She is sure that it was partly that she looked human in it that you were so interested in her. She has not felt the same level of desire from her master since, though she wishes it.”
Vince sighed and brought a hand up and rubbed his jaw. “I’m not really sure how to answer that, Petra. I can tell you that I honestly haven’t exactly been feeling… randy. We’re kind of on the lam, and my mind has been more attuned to getting us home.”
Petra nodded her head an inch, her fingers frozen on the stock.
Grunting, Vince knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Petra, you’re very attractive. Even if you’re not completely human. The dress didn’t change anything for me because I’m well aware of who and what you are. Everything you felt from me was directed at you for being you.
“If the situation were different and this were more of a scenic trip… well, yeah. I think you’re as pretty and sexy as Meliae or Fes. Don’t doubt yourself, just… be you. You be you.”
Petra pulled her chin in further, her head tilting downward. Her bangs slid down to cover her face from his view.
“As to what I saw, we could do the river crossing, but it’ll have to be at night. It’s dusk now, but in an hour or so it should be dark enough, I imagine,” Vince said, pushing the hair out of his eyes. He’d been meaning to get it cut, but things kept happening that prevented that.
“They’ve got it all crosshatched with spotlights and machine guns. The area I was looking at is a little deeper, and we should probably be able to cross if we can keep ourselves submerged most of the time.”
Petra didn’t say anything to that but bobbed her head. He got the impression she was watching him from the corner of her eyes.
“The alternative is skirting way out to the east, but I’m not confident it’d be any better over there. Might actually be worse. People seemed rather lazy at the river. No one has attempted to make the crossing as of yet, so… that helps.”
Vince gave his head a shake, trying to get his hair to settle better.
“This one would like to cut her master’s hair,” Petra whispered.
Thinking about it for a moment, Vince shrugged. At this point, anything would be better than this. “I’ll take you up on that, actually. It’s just damn unmanageable right now. Do you want to do it now, or…?”
“This one would prefer to take care of it now. If Master can’t see in the water, it will be a problem.”
Vince couldn’t fault the logic. He got up, walked over to her position, and sat down in front of her. “Want my knife or do you have yours?”
“This one has her knife.”
Petra immediately combed her fingers through his hair, drawing it backwards. “This one would know her master’s preference.”
“Uhm, I don’t know. Short? Whatever you think will look good. I can’t exactly see my own hair without a mirror, and we don’t have one of those.”
Petra’s fingers were warm as they brushed through his hair. Her nails were short with only the smallest bit of length to them.
She folded his hair one way, and then another. “This one regrets to tell her master that his hair is tangled. Does master have a comb?”
“In my saddlebags. I can get it—”
“No, remain seated. This one can reach from here. She will also be wetting your hair to get it untangled.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Petra’s legs reach out to hook the saddlebag and bring it over.
“Alright.” Vince wasn’t quite sure what to say. Fes and Meliae shared his bed often, and there was genuine affection with both of them. Nothing like this, though.
This felt more like budding romance from one of those terrible novels his mother used to read. He didn’t doubt Meliae would offer to do something like this and would spoil him, if given the chance.
Problem was, they really hadn’t been given a chance for anything like this. Their time had been spent working or getting to the next place to work. There was little to no downtime.
Ever.
“Forgive this one, Master, the water will be cold,” Petra murmured from beside his ear. She’d leaned in close to him while his mind wandered off. Her warm breath tickled his ear and made his skin prickle.
A trickle of water splashed into his hair. Before it could run down his back, her hands were there, rubbing the water into his scalp. Twice more Petra ran water into his hair and helped it to soak in with her hands.
Her left hand pressed into his brow with a light touch as the comb began to work through his hair.
Closing his eyes, Vince focused on Petra and what she was doing.
With gentle yet insistent work, she untangled his hair. Her careful fingers worked the knots out tenderly one by one. Then she’d work the comb through the area she’d cleared.
Petra worked until it felt like she’d conducted an intense survey of his head, mapping out every bump, tangle, scar, and pulling out every bit of vegetation he’d inadvertently picked up.
Vince felt Petra shift as she reached around behind him and laid the comb down. She gathered up his hair in one hand and pulled it away from his head.
The swish and hiss of a blade cutting through hair was the only indication that she’d begun the task she’d set out to do.
Vince remained still as Petra worked, her fingers sliding through his hair, followed by a pause as she gathered it up in one hand. Then the soft sibilant sound of hair being cut.
At length, Petra seemed satisfied with her work. She hadn’t run the knife through his hair for at least a minute. Now she was merely brushing her fingertips through it as if to see how it would lay on his head.
“This one would ask her master
to please open his eyes,” Petra said softly.
Vince opened his eyes and blinked twice. He’d honestly gotten lost in the tender touches and warmth Petra has bestowed on him.
There was a kernel of disappointment in him that it was over.
Her bright blue eyes stared down at him when he turned his face up to hers.
A flash of a smile burst across her face and fled as quickly as it had come.
Leaning in close to him, she gently pressed a hand to his jaw and tilted it to one side.
He could see her eyes as they roamed over his face, inspecting him for what, he had no clue.
Slowly, she tilted his head the other way and proceeded to do the same thing again.
Holding his chin steady, she came a touch closer and brought the knife up to the side of his face.
A soft prickling in his sideburns was all he felt, and a single swish of the blade. Pulling back, she turned his head again and the same act was repeated to the other side.
Her thumb and forefinger of one hand carefully peeled his ear down. The knife tip grazed along the skin behind his ear. A few brushes of the edge to his flesh and it withdrew.
Moving his head back the other way, she did the same thing to the other side.
Petra eased back from him and seemed to admire her work. The hand on his jaw guided his head into different positions but with only the barest whisper of direction.
Petra’s eyes slowly focused on his own.
He gave her a small smile and quirked a brow at her.
Wetting her lips with her tongue, she then parted them.
To the west and south of them was a blast the likes of which Vince had never heard before. A fireball lit up the night sky in every direction, shattering the peace of the night.
The noise from it felt more akin to a lightning bolt from directly overhead than anything.
As if to settle the matter on what it could be, the pop and crackle of gunfire made its way to him.
“They’re attacking. Or pushing. Something. Everyone will be distracted. We should do this. Now, even. Whatever they’re doing, it’s big,” Vince said, standing up. Turning around, he pocketed the comb Petra had set on a rock.
Listening intently, Vince was trying to discern anything he could about the weapons behind used.
Behind him, he heard Petra getting up to her feet. She took a deep breath and then blurted everything out in a rush. “Master, this one must confess she cannot swim.”
Vince pressed his lips together to keep himself from saying anything in response to that.
It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t swim. He doubted soldier ants could swim even if they could be taught how or wanted to.
Not a whole lot to paddle with below, after all.
“Alright. Do you trust me?” Vince asked.
“Of course, Master. This one’s life is yours.”
“Good. Cut the horse loose after you strip everything off it. Then gather everything up and load yourself with as much as you can. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Turning his head to the river south of them, Vince set off at quick pace. Sooner than he could believe, he found the point where the trees thinned and the shore began.
Even the soldiers on this side were entirely focused on the west. This would be their best shot to make this work.
Dodging back into the woods, he moved east while keeping his eyes open for logs. Big, dry logs.
He found two of what he was looking for, and a third that would do, by the time he found the spot he wanted. It was between two lookout points, but he’d selected his entry point closer to the one to his west.
They would be less likely to look east, and the ones further east would have a harder time distinguishing them from the gloom.
Working quickly, Vince dropped down to the ground and pulled the logs closer together.
The show to the west had been timed with night falling. The temperature was dropping quickly, and what little light there was came mostly from the stars now, which was rudely interrupted by the blasts of whatever was happening to the west.
This really couldn’t have been more in their favor unless Vince had been a part of the planning.
Petra came up behind him, everything packed and stored and carried on her ant abdomen. “This one has freed our animal. She is… she is ready.”
Vince reached out, flipped open his bag draped over her rear end, and pulled out several cords. With swift pulls, Vince lashed the logs together into a makeshift raft.
A final cord was used to tie the whole thing to his belt loop and they were ready.
“Load everything up on this. Some things will get wet, that’s just the way it is. We’ll have to dry and clean everything after.
“What I want from you, Petra, is to get under the raft. Use your legs to hold on to it and just keep your head above the water. Can you do that?”
Petra let out a slow breath and then straightened her shoulders. “This one would die for you, Master.”
“Not quite what I was asking for, but that’ll do. Alright, let’s go. Keep low, keep quiet.”
Vince looked to the east, then the west, and set off. Waiting wouldn’t benefit anyone.
When they reached the water, Vince kept going, slithering into it as quietly as he could. Even as he dragged the raft into the water, Petra loaded it up with their belongings and crawled into the water beside him.
Once the water got to his waist, Vince launched forward into a breaststroke. The cord pulled at his pants as he felt the whole thing shudder, then stabilize.
Quick, quiet pants for breath behind him, with the occasional sputter, told him Petra had done as he’d asked.
He didn’t dare turn around to check. His eyes were on the point of the shore he wanted to land on.
From the across the river, that single point looked like it might have a blind spot for the group to the east.
Angling himself against the current, Vince swam onward through the cold water. Halfway across, Vince started to get nervous. There wasn’t as much gunfire from the west anymore. Their diversion had managed to even keep the spotlights off for some reason, but the continued fighting had helped.
Maybe the generator was hit?
On top of that, his muscles were trembling. Swimming against the current, dragging Petra behind him, and doing so in water that wanted to kill through the cold was sapping his strength.
And quicker than he’d anticipated.
Gritting his teeth, Vince pushed himself, pulled at his dwindling reserves and demanded more of his strength.
His body started to heat up; his heart started to pound in his chest. Onward he swam.
When his foot touched the muddy bottom, he wanted to collapse right there. His body thrummed and burned with the exertion, only to clash with the bitingly cold wind.
The temperature had really dropped. Weather patterns had changed since the Wastes were created. Unnatural weather could strike at any time.
In this case, the air felt like it was bordering on freezing, and the wind only made it a hundred times worse.
The cord at his waist shifted and he knew Petra had disentangled herself from the raft and gotten her legs back onto the ground.
A shout went up to the east of them, and before he could think to respond, the cord around his waist snapped, Petra scooped him up in her arms, and they were off like a shot.
The cold air tore at him, and the sounds of rifles being fired echoed on both sides of them as they passed into the tree line.
Petra didn’t stop for anything. She sailed through the undergrowth, her legs clicking as she carried them forward.
She used tree trunks, bushes, anything to push off of and keep them moving.
Several minutes went by before Petra slowed down, and finally came to a stop.
The blonde was panting heavily, her lips were blue, and her teeth chattered incessantly.
Vince tumbled from her arms as her legs gave out from under her.
He didn’t hav
e much time. For himself, or for her. Looking around, he realized that by sheer luck, she’d taken them right into a small gulley between the trees. He could start a fire and there’d be a good chance they’d be overlooked.
Even if they were caught, at this point, it’d be better than the alternative.
Dying of the cold.
Pulling the saddlebags, baggage, and weapons from Petra’s back and rear, he dropped it all to one side. The brilliant woman had taken the time to gather everything before grabbing him.
He stripped her quickly, pulling her clothes off until she was nude.
Her gaze was empty and her eyes glassy. Her teeth clattered like screws in a coffee can.
Pulling off his own soaking-wet clothes, he dropped them atop hers and then reached into the bags.
Ripping out a handful of rounds from the ammo tin, he then pulled out his fire starter kit.
Sweeping off an area of leaves and twigs, Vince pulled out a batch of tinder he’d set aside for fire making.
Vince put a cartridge between his teeth and bit down. He pulled the bullet free of the jacket with a tug and then dumped the powder into a small pile at the base of the tinder.
Biting another cartridge, he rushed to one side and quickly began gathering branches.
Dumping an armful down, he tore another bullet out of the jacket with his teeth, pouring the powder atop the first pile.
After two more armfuls of branches, a chunk of dead log, and another bullet pulled free, Vince felt like he could start the fire and be able to feed it for a bit.
Kneeling down in front of the tinder, he pulled out his sparker. It was just a piece of flint attached to a rod that would be dragged across a textured bit of steel.
He snapped the tool thrice in rapid succession, and the powder caught and went up in a puff of flame.
Pushing the miniature inferno underneath the tinder, he looked to Petra.
She was drooping all the way over to one side, like a wilted flower. Her arms hung limply at her sides.
By the time he looked back to his fire, it had gone up quick. The tinder was aflame and burning. Dropping the dried-out dead log straight into the fire, he waited for a second to make sure it went up in flame, and then crawled over to Petra.
