by James Axler
Kicking off his own boots, Ryan stripped as he padded toward her. “Lucky for you I like my women to smell...earthy.”
“Women? Women? Best change that to the singular, unless there’s something you want to tell me.” Ryan’s grin was infectious, and Krysty stripped off her own T-shirt and threw it at his head. “You like how I smell so much, well, how about now?”
Ryan took a moment to breath in the mingled scents of sweat, musk and that indefinable aroma of the only woman for him. “Smells just as good to me as the day we met.”
It had been that way between them since they’d first seen each other. Ryan was with the Trader, who had come to the pest-hole ville of Mocsin, only to find himself in the middle of a power struggle between its baron, a sad sack of mutie shit named Jordan Teague, and his lieutenant and head of his sec force, a cold-eyed bastard named Cort Strasser. After saving Krysty from a mutie assault, they had grown close in the days after, and had soon become lovers. Now, he couldn’t even imagine a day without her by his side, and knew she felt the same.
“Flatterer.” Wearing only panties and a bra, Krysty shook her hand back and forth, narrowing her gaze at the small cloud of dust that drifted out of it. “Ugh! You want first wash?”
“Nope.” Ryan took her hand and led her toward the smaller secondary room. “Since we have to conserve water, I know the best way to do it.”
Krysty cocked her head as they walked into the smaller bathroom, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You aren’t serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? We haven’t had a moment to ourselves since the redoubt, and besides—” his strong fingers cupped her breast, while his other hand drifted lower, making her gasp with mingled surprise and pleasure “—you still owe me for cutting your hair back on the plains.”
“I owe you, huh?” Krysty’s hands were moving as well, splayed across Ryan’s tight stomach and unbuckling his pants. “I suppose a quickie wouldn’t hurt. There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
She grinned wickedly as she stripped off her bra and panties and stepped into the dingy, grimy bathtub. “I don’t think you can finish in a minute.”
Ryan’s grin was just as sly. “Never have yet. Guess we’ll just have to turn the water off during—”
Krysty’s mouth found his as she turned the tepid water on, and Ryan quit talking and got very busy doing.
* * *
EVEN WITHOUT THEIR other activities, the shower was heavenly. The sun-warmed water sluiced the dirt and dust from their skin, running dark brown toward the drain at first, then clearing up. The collective made its own soap, fragrant with clover and lavender, which pleased Krysty almost as much as the shower itself. As requested, they used as little water as possible, but made sure every inch of each other was very, very clean by the time they were finished.
The hardest part had been keeping quiet, so as not to arouse suspicion from their hosts. Ryan now sported a deep red bite mark where Krysty had sunk her teeth into his uninjured shoulder to stifle her cries of pleasure. They figured they’d been mostly successful, and Ryan said he’d just claim that his other shoulder injury was acting up if anyone did ask.
“Yeah, because that’s exactly the noise you make when you’re hurt,” Krysty said as they dressed in the assortment of clothes that had been left for them. Their own had vanished, but all of their weapons were still where they’d put them. Even Ryan’s panga and the web belt it was on had been removed from his old fatigue pants.
“Could be—after all, you haven’t heard all the noises I make,” Ryan replied. Overall, his replacement outfit was a decent fit, with the long sleeves on the shirt just an inch short, which he solved by rolling them up to his elbows. The patchwork pants were also a trifle snug in the crotch and short around the ankles, too, but he figured he’d just tuck the ends into his boots and grin and bear the rest. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I heard other sounds from next door, as well,” he said as he repositioned his knife at his back.
Krysty rolled her eyes as she pulled her shirt on. “Oh, please.”
“Hey, I’m just saying we weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the situation.” Ryan pulled his boots on. “You just watch. Mildred will have that ‘cat who just drank the cream’ look on her face when they come out.”
She smacked him on the chest. “You’re terrible.”
“You look at her when we go back out there and tell me I’m wrong.”
“All right, all right—anything to get you to stop talking.” Krysty was still grinning, although Ryan couldn’t tell if that was because of what they were talking about or what they’d just done. “What do you think about Tully? You know she’s got her eye on Jak.”
“Yeah...” Ryan watched for Krysty’s reaction while lowering his voice. “Let’s keep an eye on that situation, okay? No sense riling up the natives if we can avoid it.”
“You and I probably can, but from the way she was sizing him up during our meeting earlier, I think he’s in trouble and doesn’t realize it yet. Besides, he makes his own decisions, you know that.”
“I know. I just don’t want the rest of us to pay for it, that’s all. Besides, usually we’re in a superior position in a place like this—not that I expect we’re going to have to fight our way out,” he said quickly upon seeing her shocked look.
“They all seem on the up-and-up to me,” she replied. “Have you seen anything that tells you otherwise?”
Ryan shook his head. “Nope, at least not yet. But those raiders are still around, and we’re low on ammo and just went through a few days of hell out there, so none of us are at our best right now. I just want to make sure nothing comes to a head while we’re here, that’s all.”
“Well, I know one head I didn’t mind seeing a few minutes ago,” Krysty said, which made Ryan’s jaw drop. She didn’t usually make those sorts of jokes, considering them coarse and demeaning, since the majority of them were often directed at women. She reached over and closed his jaw. “Thought I’d help you before the flies got in. Shall we go to dinner?”
Chapter Fourteen
“Okay, you were right.” Krysty’s whisper made Ryan smile.
Escorted by Elder Teale and her eldest daughter, they were walking with J.B. and Mildred. The moment they’d come out of their room, Mildred had stretched out her arms and taken a deep breath of the cooling evening air.
“I hope the wash was agreeable?” Elder Teale asked. “Some of you seemed to take longer than others. Your friends are already with the rest of the collective at the common area.”
“It was wonderful, thank you,” Krysty replied. “You’ll have to forgive us. We don’t get the chance at running water too often, but we kept it as quick as we could.”
Mildred nodded, as well. “I don’t know about you all, but I feel a thousand times better—what?” she asked Ryan. “Just exactly what’re you smiling about?”
Ryan quickly wiped the smile off his face. “Nothing at all. It just feels good to be clean again, like you said.”
“Yeah...except I didn’t say that, exactly.” She glanced at J.B., who was his usual inscrutable self.
Ryan noticed a glimmer of firelight through a gap between two buildings at the same time that he caught the delectable scent of roasting meat on the breeze. “Forget it. That meat smells great.”
“They put a haunch on to roast as soon as they got them, but I doubt it will be done in time,” Elder Teale said. “However, the cuts from the hindquarters should feed everyone quite nicely.”
“Looking forward to that,” J.B. said. “It’s been a few days too long without a real meal.” As they drew closer, he could hear several people talking over the crackling fire. Long-ingrained habits made him glance around, noticing the moving shadows of people standing sentry duty on rooftops under the clear night sky. Even if a person was on e
very roof in the area, which was impossible, as there were still more buildings than people to man them, there were still plenty of ways to slip out of the former ghost town.
And that was the real problem, since it meant there were plenty of ways to slip into the town, as well.
They emerged from the alley between two buildings and into what had probably been the backyard of some long-dead business, maybe a restaurant a hundred years ago. Now the large flagstone patio was filled with tables and benches arranged in a three-sided U shape, all piled high with platters of food. What Ryan could see—loaves of fresh-baked bread, larger ceramic bowls of vegetables, even some kind of salad greens featuring dandelion leaves, along with sweating clay pitchers of water—made his mouth water even more. A large fire roared in the middle of the arrangement, warding off the night chill, with a pile of old, weathered boards salvaged from a nearby building ready to be used to keep it going.
Apparently everyone not on guard duty was in attendance; children helped carry plates or minded the younger ones while young women bustled in and out of the empty doorway of the nearby stone building, making sure everything was ready. When Krysty nudged him, Ryan noticed Tully, all cleaned up and in what had to be her best clothes—an ankle-length skirt and sleeveless button-down blouse, both composed of mostly the same light blue muslin, with mother-of-pearl buttons that gleamed in the firelight. She was helping to prepare the eating area, but every time she appeared, her gaze strayed to a particular group of men—and the white-haired speaker in the middle of them.
“Looks like Jak isn’t the only one attracting attention,” Krysty said with a nod of her chin as Ryan set his longblaster next to his bench. He and J.B. had discussed leaving the weapons back in the bathrooms or hiding them somewhere in town, but in the end had decided to keep them at their sides, just in case. Ryan straightened and looked over to where she was pointing.
Off to the side, and flanked by Ricky and Doc, Jak regaled a group of men with his adventure against the mutie bird, the farmers hanging on his every word. “—not see clear, but saw it movin’, so knew had to wait for it make first move. Then came at me—”
“Better watch out,” J.B. muttered. “They’ll be calling him the hero of Silvertide before this is over.”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Let’s make sure Jak keeps his ego in check.”
“That’s not all. Just about every girl here is watching both of them, too,” Krysty said.
Ryan casually glanced around to find his lover was right. The teenage girls there alternated between doing whatever chore they had been assigned and staring in Jak’s and Ricky’s direction. “Great. They’re going to be on those two like stickies on a bonfire—”
“Brother Ryan, Brother John, Brother Theophilus, Brother Jak, Brother Ricky, Sister Krysty and Sister Mildred, welcome to our table,” Elder Bough said as he emerged from the same building, carrying a platter heaped high with thick cuts of antelope meat. “Please, as our honored guests, sit, sit!”
Bringing the platter to the head table nearest their kitchen and setting it down, he indicated the seats near him. Ryan and the others took their places and were joined by everyone else in the area.
While people were getting settled, Ryan made sure he sat next to Jak. “Quite the tale you were spinning over there.”
Jak had already filled his glass with water, and was busy draining it. He caught Ryan’s tone, however, and turned to him after wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “What? Always tellin’ me be polite. Was being polite. Asked what happened, and told ’em. That’s all.”
“Was it? Sure you weren’t stretching the truth even a little?” Ryan asked.
Jak surprised him by shaking his head. “Fuck, no. Had correct ’em on couple points—thought chilled damn bird with bare hands.” He grinned. “Not that crazy.”
“Where’d they get an idea like that?” Ryan asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
Jak looked around before answering. “Guess Tully’s been tellin’ everyone what saw.” Although he tried to contain it, Ryan saw the teen’s chest puff up a bit. “Not my fault mostly tellin’ truth.”
“Just don’t go around telling stories you can’t back up. Right now, us and them—” he pointed with his chin at the rest of the people around them “—are on fairly equal terms, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“No funny business?” Jak asked.
“It’s not my place to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do—you make your own decisions,” Ryan replied. “Just be aware that a lot of choices carry the fates of others with them, whether that’s the rest of us, or these people. I’m just suggesting that you to think before you act, that’s all. And pass that message on to Ricky, okay?”
Jak nodded. “Got it.”
“Brothers, sisters, come, be seated, and let us rejoice in this bounty that God has seen fit to grace our table with.” Heads bowed again, and Elder Bough delivered a similar prayer to the one he had used when the group had arrived, although this one was blessedly shorter. Amens were muttered around the group, and then everyone dug in.
The meal was simple, but savory. The steaks had been done to a variety of tastes, and although a bit stringy, were still very good. Sides consisted of large pots of boiled potatoes in butter, asparagus and cooked beets. As often found with rural farming communities, the fresh-baked bread was superb—crusty outside, warm and tender inside, and served with fresh-churned butter and honey. Pitchers of water and milk accompanied the meal.
Conversation was sparse, mainly because everyone had their mouths full. Ryan and his companions took their cues from their hosts, and kept their comments limited to requests for more food and drink at first. Seeing as how everyone was putting away very good helpings—instead of giving their guests the best of what they had, and taking lesser portions for themselves—Ryan signaled his people to relax and enjoy the meal, which all of them were doing anyway.
He watched their hosts, in particular the table of elders—Bough, Teale and three others he hadn’t been introduced to. All of them were variations on the same physical theme—lean, strong middle-aged men and women. He was surprised to find that this obviously theocratic society allowed women at its highest level, as the typical religious cults usually had one gender in charge—usually the males, although they had come across their share of female-controlled villes during their travels, as well.
Once second helpings had been put away, the women cleared the tables and brought out several varieties of fruit pie. The thick slabs were served with even thicker cream, and everyone dug in again.
“If those raiders were smart, they’d hit us now, when we’re all too stuffed to move,” J.B. observed while letting his belt out a notch. Ryan just nodded, fearing if he took too large a breath to answer, he’d bust the wooden button right off his pants.
At length, Elder Bough pushed his chair back and rose from his table across from Ryan and the others. “If starts pontificatin’, gonna fall asleep right here,” Jak whispered to Ryan.
“And I’ll be damn sure to wake you back up, too,” the one-eyed man replied. “Stay alert. I’m sure our names are going to come up pretty soon.”
“First, I want to thank the kitchen sisters for that wonderful meal,” Elder Bough began, extending a hand to the various women, who were still moving around the tables, taking platters and dishes. “Truly, they are doing the Lord’s work every day, and we thank them for it.”
Nods and murmurs of appreciation were heard and seen around the tables. “Before we open the floor to our most pressing issue at hand, is there any other matter that the elders should pronounce judgment on?”
Everyone looked around, and then the young girl whom Ricky had talked to stepped forward out of the bustle of women around the kitchen. “Yes, Elders, there is.”
“Step forward, Marijah, and share with us,” Elder
Bough said.
Head down, the girl toed the dirt in front of her as she replied. “While we were escorting the visitors to the bath rooms, I spoke of the water machine—”
“It was my fault.” Ricky’s voice carried to everyone in the area. Ryan looked over to see him standing up at the end of their table, with all heads turning toward him, as well. The girl, however, kept her eyes on the ground. “I was just interested in the machine, that’s all. I asked about it, and she started to answer, but one of her sisters cut her off before she could tell me anything.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm, and I don’t think the señorita should suffer for what she said.”
“Is there anyone else who wishes to speak on this matter?” Bough asked.
Ryan raised his hand and levered himself up from his bench. “I just want to say that Ricky’s story is how it went down—all of us were there to see it. If it was up to me, I’d class it as a harmless mistake.”
The elders looked at one another, then back at Marijah. “Well spoken, Brothers Ricky and Ryan. Does the transgressor have anything to say on her behalf?”
She looked up now, on the verge of tears. “Only that I’m very sorry, and that I promise never to do it again.”
Everyone appeared moved by her contrition, and even Elder Bough cleared his throat before continuing, “Now, now, child, it will be all right.”
He raised his voice to carry to the assembly. “Since the transgressor willingly came forward and confessed her misdeed, and taking into consideration the testimony on her behalf from our visitors, the punishment shall be light.
“Sister Marijah, you will go without food tomorrow from sunrise to sunset. During that time, you will carry out all of your duties while reflecting on the error of your ways, and bookend that meditation with hunger. The elders have spoken, so let it be done. Amen.”
The assembly all nodded and said amen as well, and Ryan let out a small sigh of relief as he sat down again. As punishments went, that one was light. He had seen much worse done to people for much less elsewhere.
