She handled it better this time. She’d quickly grown to trust him, his ability to protect her, and though her body still quivered against his, she didn’t sob or cry. She knew they’d see it through. It was God’s will.
This time it was less intense, but it went on longer. The focus of the shaking seemed to shift, as if it was from some giant as big as God Himself quaking the world with its feet, but throughout it all, he held her, stroked her thick curls and kissed her anxiety away with sweet little mutterings peppered between.
When at last it stopped he put on a big smile, but something so eerie permeated their sanctuary. The sound was of metal—tearing. It was like some great jaws-of-life was being used upon the door to their hideaway, ripping at the metal of the door as it grew louder, faster, more hurried.
Leon lifted her, her weight like nothing to the one man’s good arm, and he carried her to the side of the bunker just beyond the door there. With a flip of a switch he shut off the generator and all the world went dark as he huddled into the corner with her, the tearing sound of metal shrieking through the den that had but moments before seemed so impenetrable.
She knew not to speak. She didn’t know how, but it was an instinctual thing, and she remained silent. He could feel her heartbeat quicken, her breathing become shallower as she moved into him and she found herself wishing he had his gun. She didn’t know what was happening—he had shielded her from the true horrors of what lay beyond their sanctuary, the hellish beasts that walked the earth—but she knew it wasn’t right.
Nothing about this was right.
She heard the door beside them click shut, but even that extra layer between them and the source of that terrorizing, shrill metallic shriek did little to dissipate its merciless cry.
All through it, he held her, both arms tight about her in his comforting grasp, and when the sound seemed like it might never stop until they were pulled out and devoured, it ceased. Then started again tentatively only to peter out and vanish once more.
She wanted this to be over. Cassidy’s eyes were closed tight and she found herself mouthing prayer after prayer, wishing for her and her new husband—for who could perform the ceremony now that they were like Adam and Eve?—safe from harm. She just wanted to keep living. She was too young to die.
She had to stop her teeth from chattering with fear, her hands clamped over her ears with such intensity as her body quivered against the harder man that comforted her so well.
Leon coddled and protected her in the corner of that dark, still room for so long. When hours must have passed, he began to murmur to her softly, words of safety. The first words out of his mouth so calmingly in control, “Nothing for you to worry about, sweet Cass,” and he stroked her tender, pale skin in the dark.
“What’s going on?” she finally gasped out, her eyes trying to find his in the dark. She was shivering against him, her arms up around his neck as they hid out and she was afraid the roof would fall in on both of them as well.
“Just the wolves,” he said, his eyes glinting a bit in the faint emergency lighting, and she tried not to ponder on what manner of wolves could’ve made such horrifying sounds upon solid steel.
With a tender kiss to her lips he rubbed her sides, “How about we take a nap, huh?” And he rested his back to the wall and unfurled himself, bringing her against his chest completely.
She couldn’t help but think him a little strange for a moment, but she felt so weary. The fear and adrenaline had been pushed aside, leaving her empty, and she rested her head against his muscular body. “I don’t think wolves can do that,” she muttered quietly.
7
She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed after she finally fell asleep, but when she awoke she was in the dark still, but alone. The door was open and she rested upon the cement floor by herself.
She had always been a heavy sleeper, but she would have figured she’d have noticed him leaving. Fear overcame her and she stood on shaky legs, walking to the open door as quietly as possible in the dark, her heart thudding faster with every step.
Leon stood there before her, peering cautiously through the view slit to the outer door of the airlock. Before she could say anything he turned and saw her. “Cass,” he said with some surprise, shutting the view-slit then going to her and holding her immediately. “Sorry hun, I just popped up for a second. Didn’t think you’d wake up that fast.”
“I was cold,” she murmured, and she looked at him with such an intense gaze, “What’s happened?”
The lighting was so dim, but she could still make him out in it, his bare upper body reflecting the light as he stroked her cheek and hair.
“Nothin’. Not a thing got through,” he said, and she could make out the smile on his face. “Didn’t I tell you you’re safe here with me?” he said with a bit of humour in that light reprimand.
She smiled, looking a lot more relaxed, but when she walked to him and put her hands to his chest, he could see she was still troubled. “Leon, tell me what’s happened. If... I... If we have to leave, I have to know...”
Giving her a firm embrace he said to her so calmly, “Nah, we won't be leaving here anytime soon,” and though he smiled and looked so calm and in control, it sounded almost ominous. “Now how about we flip that generator back on and take a look at your last gift, huh?” he said cheerfully.
She didn’t push the point, though it was partially her sleepy haze. Perhaps part of her didn’t want to know and was relieved he didn’t tell her. Still, her smile spread her lips and she nodded enthusiastically, “Alright, Leon.”
Turning the generator back on the lights restored, illuminating them both fully once more and making them have to blink away the blinding haze. It gave him time to scoop up the dropped gift before she could make it out, and he went and sat on the bed they shared. “Now, I’m no expert at this stuff,” he explained, “but I thought a pretty gal like you probably misses some of the conveniences she used to have.”
With a broad smile he produced a makeup kit, containing various colours and assortments of lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, and more. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to pretend,” he said, never letting the fright of the world outside mar his moments with his beautiful new ‘wife’.
She blushed, feeling that familiar heat rise to her skin as she sat down next to him, her hand resting on his forearm, “I was never allowed to wear makeup.” She looked so happy, though, as if he’d given her something very special. As if he’d made her a woman and was now treating her like a lady.
Cupping her chin, he stroked his thumb along her lower lip and said fondly, “As beautiful as you are, you certainly don’t need it.” He laid the kit aside, “Not many ladies are that fortunate,” he stated, putting his arms around her and holding her nude form so firmly.
“I’ll practice later,” she murmured as she trailed her fingers down the length of his arm. “Why did you join the military?” she asked, suddenly curious about his past. She wanted to know him - to really know him. She wanted to be his perfect wife.
Her sudden interest in his past surprised him, but anything to keep the world as it was outside at bay was welcome. So with a smile he reclined back into their little marital nook with her and began in his deep voice, “I was a young man. Felt I had a lot to offer the world,” he explained. “But I wasn’t rich. Didn’t have dick for cash, and I didn’t want to end up in debt for the rest of my life.”
Her nose crinkled with his coarse language, but she didn’t interrupt.
With a shrug of his broad shoulders he smiled, “Always liked the idea of joining the military. Helping some people in a far off place on a peacekeeping mission. And since they’d pay for my education, it seemed the perfect fit.”
“Oh,” she murmured. It wasn’t really what she expected, but then, what did she expect? Her parents and their hateful thoughts and words came back to her and she quickly brushed them aside. Almost too quickly. Her fingertips never stopped caressing him, her breath wa
shing across his flesh, “Why were you here?”
Stroking his hand over her curly reddish-blonde hair, he smiled to her, letting her stroke her slender fingers upon his hard muscles. “I finished my time with the navy recently,” he explained softly, “and was in town here for a new career.” Taking a moment he looked off to the other side of the room, “I was starting work for a big company, nice big fat paycheck too,” he said with a grin, looking back to her, proud—or at least pleased—with the accomplishment that no longer meant a damn. “Made more in an hour than most people can make in a day.”
The sympathy and desire she felt for him was something new and unfamiliar to her. She wanted him to have that. She wanted him to have that happy life with a good job and a large paycheque, and before she could stop herself, tears were spilling down her cheeks.
She didn’t want to be stuck here in this bunker. She missed her family, and her friends, even if they didn’t really know her. She missed her confession times and her library and the teacher who had told her that she had a bright future and stroked her hair so gingerly after she graduated. She missed the sunshine, and birds, and she hated it stuck underground.
He was the only thing making it better for her, allowing her to push the sadness away, and to know that little piece of his story broke her heart. It was then, for the first time, she saw him as a whole person and not some mythical protector sent to her by God. He was someone who had lost his family and friends and job and life, and she clung to him with such passion and genuine need that it was almost too much.
She wondered: How was she going to survive stuck down here?
8
A week was a long time to spend confined in such a small space with someone. Especially someone they’d just met. But that was exactly what the ‘newlyweds’ had to do.
The shaking and terrible clawing at the door continued intermittently for days, giving them few moments of peace. It frayed at their nerves, but valiantly they made an effort to keep the terror at bay, even as the food dwindled lower.
Pulling his white shirt off over his head, Leon sat down on one of the chairs and bared his back to Cassidy. “How’s it look?” he asked, unable to get a clear look at the wound he’d suffered prior. It was all but healed now, the swelling gone, and it didn’t even look like it would scar, thankfully.
It had been eleven hours since the last episode of clawing and rumbling took hold of their little enclosed world, and instead of calming Leon, it had seemed to make him fret more. They hadn’t gone this long without one since they started back up again.
It bothered her too. It was as if she was just expecting it, waiting for it and dreading for it to come all at once. There wasn’t hope that it wouldn’t, not anymore. Her hand trailed over his back as she stared, her motions slow and gentle. “It looks fine. You were lucky,” she reassured him.
She hadn’t left him for long, never far from his reach, even in the small bunker. She was terrified and convinced that they needed to be close, for them to get through this together. She’d managed to slowly learn more about him, about his past, and her bouts of crying had calmed down. Still, she was sensitive to the destruction, far more than she had been prior to his arrival. Talking to someone who’d actually been out in it, who knew what was lost, made it seem all the more real. Maybe she had been in shock or denial for the first couple of weeks. Maybe spending all her time with others like her had allowed her to convince herself that it would be okay, in the end.
Now she knew it wasn’t. It never would be okay again, not like how it was.
Leon stood up abruptly, “Good,” he said, that sound of resolution in his voice. He’d had to watch what he was eating down in the bunker, and he didn’t like it. A man of his size could waste away to uselessness so quickly without activity and a hearty diet.
He scanned the food shelves needlessly, for he took meticulous count of it all, and she could tell—after their week together—his mind was churning. Before anything more could be said though, he caught glimpse of her face, and something softened within him.
With a pleasant smile he said, “Thanks to your tender care, honey,” his voice velvety and smooth again, not terse and determined.
That sudden shift seemed to please her as she stared up at him with such affection. It hadn’t been easy, getting used to being with someone. To be intimate with someone and serve them wholly, but she had done her best and was determined to ease his mind and his worries. She’d even managed to pull herself past a couple of slumps, perking herself up by helping make his time with her a little bit better.
She desperately wanted things to work between them.
“It wasn’t a problem,” she smiled.
Leon tossed his shirt to the side over the back of his chair and came to her, resting his hands upon her shoulders, rubbing her so soothingly through the white cotton of her blouse.
“Nothin’ ever is for you, is it sweetie?” He bent down, head tilted, and kissed her plush on the lips. It was a tender, loving kiss.
Cassidy melted so easily for him with just the smallest bit of kindness, the simplest gentle words. It was enough to make her heart pound and her resolve stiffen. She wanted to make this man happy and to ease his burdens. He deserved that, more than anything. Her mouth parted against his, and he could tell that she’d been paying a good deal attention to finding the things he liked, experimenting with different techniques to see which he enjoyed best.
They’d had so much time to practice, after all, with little else to do since they had to keep the generator off most of the time as he feared attracting attention. And to conserve their limited fuel.
Leon, for his part, was an excellent kisser, and a great teacher. Rubbing his hands over her upper body, he showed her his appreciation for her improved skill, rubbing her soft, pale flesh with such care. “I got you another present,” he said in a low husk, “a secret present, I was holdin’ onto,” he added with a bit of a grin.
Her breath caught for a second, though it could have been the kiss or his words. She stared at him with surprise and tenderness that it looked, for a moment, that she might cry. “You’re always thinking of me, aren’t you?” she muttered as if they’d been together for decades or longer. The chaos outside, the destruction of all she’d known and loved certainly made her feel older than her youthful visage.
Leon didn’t poke fun at it, he just smiled and stroked her curly ruddy locks. “That’s a husband’s duty,” he said with such certainty, giving her a kiss on the forehead before he moved by her to the bed.
He took something out from beneath the mattress and looked to her, “Y’ready? Afraid this is the last one I’ve got for a while,” he remarked, “so it’s a bit different. Special. You probably won't get it until I show you what it’s all about.”
She was confused, but the way she shifted atop the bed so eagerly showed her excitement. She didn’t care what it was. The fact that he’d gotten something for her was enough. The fact that he had been thinking of her, of her needs and wants and desires was more than she could have said about anyone else. In their short time together, she’d built him a pedestal, and he could do no wrong.
Leon pulled it out from behind his back then stretched it between his two thumbs. It took her a moment but she recognized it quickly: it was the black eye mask. So simple and shiny, she had issues grasping what he intended with it. It was, after all, dark enough in the bunker and she had no issues falling asleep.
“Let me put it on you,” he said, coming over to her.
Her head tilted inquisitively, but she didn’t shy away or question him. After all, he’d prepared her for this. He’d warned her that he’d have to show her, and he’d shown her so many lovely things in the past week, it excited her more than anything. Even if she didn’t understand.
Her lips parted as he slipped it over her head, the band fussing against her ringlet hair, though he was so careful. Despite his size and strength, he could be so gentle with her, and he adjusted her pretty littl
e curls appropriately so that the mask fit snug and perfect, blocking out all sight.
“There,” he said softly, pulling away then taking her hands, tugging her gently to her feet. “You know how to be a good girl and listen to everything your man says,” he remarked rather playfully, a statement rather than a question as he led her across the room blindly until she came to the table.
She was familiar with the layout of the bunker, even in the dark, but still her hands shot out instinctively, suddenly afraid she’d knock into something. She was rather clumsy at times, but he guided her smoothly and her hand grazed the table. It was strange, the darkness. It wasn’t the same as the typical hazy, dark shadows that usually permeated the place. It was true darkness, even darker than closing her eyes and her confusion grew even as he flattered her.
Those strong, coarse hands of his guided her up gently onto the tabletop. Positioning her pale legs and arms for her, then lifting her up and placing her down on its surface, adjusting her to be just right. It was a strange thing, to be on her hands and knees atop their dining table, but he stroked along her spine and murmured into her ear in that commanding, gravelly voice of his.
“If you can be a good girl, and not move or speak until I say it’s okay, then you’ll earn yourself a special reward,” he instructed.
She immediately went to agree, but stopped herself. There was just a slight gasp, an exhale, and she so wanted to be good for him. She just didn’t understand, and was suddenly so aware of just how uncomfortable her knees were, how strange the position felt, how hard the material beneath her was. Sensations were suddenly everywhere that she had so easily ignored before.
Delaying just a moment, he brushed her lush, curly hair from her face and kissed her temple, “Good girl,” he complimented so approvingly. Though all she felt next were his fingers, gingerly undoing the buttons of her blouse, until her heavy breasts fell free, exposed to the warm air of the bunker, the garment left to hang open beside them.
Bound as the World Burns Page 7
