by Eve Langlais
“We need to get out of here,” he confirmed, which led to a final burst of speed. We took the final two landings in leaps and bounds. We burst onto the street but only ran a few paces before stopping and whirling.
The apartment building was on fire. The apartment he’d lit had its windows glowing, and inside the front doors, the lobby was getting rosy cozy.
I pretended to not hear the screams as monsters burned alive.
“We did it.”
Survived to see another day.
But lost our home.
Where would we go?
Chapter 15
“We need to get out of the city, at least until things calm down,” Xavion declared.
“No shit.” Seeing that many mutants in one place, cooperating in an effort to kill us? “Where are you thinking?”
“I have a farm.”
“Wait, what? You’re a farmer?” He was too sexy. I remembered Old McDonald. He wore coveralls, ate a piece of hay, and had chubby cheeks and twinkling eyes under his straw hat.
“Not really. I don’t raise many animals or anything, but I have a small garden.”
He almost sounded embarrassed as we walked away from the fire, alert because humans weren’t supposed to roam at night.
“You grow stuff.”
“Yeah. But mostly, I hunt and use that to get people to help me. That and let them keep some too.”
“Why are you in the city if you can live off your farm?” The very idea made me wonder.
“I told you, I hunt.”
He might, but if I had the choice to live in relative safety, with fresh food? Hello, country living. I’d learn to put my hair in pigtails, cut my jeans into daisy dukes, and make my own pickles.
“How will we get there?” I asked.
“I have a bike stashed in that alley.” He pointed.
Dumb me, I thought he meant a motorcycle.
When I saw it, my dumb reply was, “It’s a bike.”
“Yeah.”
“With no motor.”
“Doesn’t need gas.”
A good point. Who knew gas could go bad? By the time I figured it out, I was stuck in the city.
“I only see one,” I pointed out. A nice bike, matte black, with a rack and a basket that I wouldn’t make fun of. At least it didn’t have a bell. Always hated those stupid things. Listening to a podcast while walking to the subway and some psycho in spandex would go whipping by on the sidewalk ringing it nonstop.
“We can double up until we find you a ride of your own,” he said,
Which meant, while he stood and pedaled, I sat on the set, legs splayed, holding on to his ass.
The ride ended outside a sporting goods store not too badly damaged. With me keeping watch, he found one he said would be great for off-roading. I sweated bullets, not daring to blink at the dark while he inflated the flat tires.
Only as I sat on it did I admit, “I never learned to ride a bike as a kid.”
“It’s easy.”
Said the man who didn’t keep falling over.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said when I sniffled on the floor because my body hurt after the third fall.
The training wheels on my bike were humiliating. Good thing no one was around to see. I took a spin on them in the store. They were really freaking noisy.
Xavion grimaced. “That won’t do.”
“I’m sorry. This is my fault. My mom said bikes were dangerous. I wasn’t even allowed on the swings at the park.” Having read all the books I could find, I’d had time to examine my upbringing and admit my mom never let me experience enough. Never had I regretted it more than in this moment. Because of me, we couldn’t make a getaway.
“I’ll figure something out.” It took only fifteen minutes before his bike gained a third wheel with a seat and handlebars. A tag-along or so the box claimed. Used by children so they could ride with their parent. Or, in this case, for a woman who’d grown up in a concrete jungle.
With our three-wheeled machine, we made good time. It was liberating to ride in the open at night. I’d never been so bold. Now tell my instincts to stop screaming, Hide. Hide. Hide.
If I’d been hiding, I would have never met Xavion. Never realized I could still live.
We rode that entire night and only barely stopped. We couldn’t ride straight out of the city because some of the roads were blocked. Intentionally, which chilled me.
The fatigue began setting in around three a.m. according to my watch. And then I heard it. An ululating shriek to our left.
“We’ve been spotted!” were his grim words as he pedaled harder.
For the last few hours until dawn, that shrieking followed us, growing fainter as we left the crowded spaces of the city for the more spread-out suburbia.
And farther still.
Only when the sun fully bathed the land did we stop for a rest. I collapsed on a front lawn grown long and lush. Basked in the rays. With him lying beside me, I fell asleep. And he must have, too, because, next thing we knew, a rude voice woke us.
“What have we here, boys?” said a guy missing most of his front teeth blocking my sunlight.
“Dinner and dessert.”
Chapter 16
A pity more of humanity wasn’t like Xavion. Yes, he’d seduced me upon meeting, but he asked and ensured he got consent. Wanted my willingness.
The thugs who woke us from our nap? The kind of assholes who thought it was okay to reach for a woman to do unspeakable things.
Wrong move.
Xavion wasn’t the type to sit calmly by.
Sure, the one with the big goofy ears held a knife on my boyfriend, but Xavion looked pissed more than anything.
So I wasn’t surprised when he reacted, the movement sharp and sudden, Big Ears’ head snapping back before Toothless even managed to finish grabbing me.
As Big Ears started to scream and Toothless gaped even wider, Xavion took them out.
One with a knife to the heart, the other a bullet between his surprised eyes.
Xavion was cold as ice when he said, “Run or you die too.”
Who did he speak to?
The third thug, holding a piece of wood with jagged nails on the porch behind us, gaped then ran.
I blinked and said, “That was really fucking hot.”
Our lips met, and we couldn’t help ourselves. Stripping in the open was dumb—we’d just been attacked—but his hand down my pants and mine around his dick meant mutual masturbation to culmination.
Yes. I came. Yes. We lived.
We continued our trip but at a more leisurely pace, moving well past suburbia to where the land held untamed spaces. Where the air smelled of possibility. Where birds still flew in the sky.
The fields had been mowed in some areas. Others held tall corn stalks growing wild and sporadically.
Fucking corn, though. I wouldn’t starve.
I could have cried. Maybe the world hadn’t truly ended. Maybe we could ride far enough we’d find civilization again or at least an easier way of life.
Foolish and yet I couldn’t help but wonder.
It was midafternoon when we rode up a driveway to a cute little house. Made of gray river stone with a porch and a tree heavy with apples.
Apples!
I almost tipped us both in my haste to get off the bike and run for the fruit.
Xavion didn’t share my enthusiasm but rather glanced around suspiciously.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, mouth full of crunchy, mushy sweetness.
“The fruit. No one’s picked it.”
Some littered the ground, going bad. What a waste. I took another bite. “You have someone apple picking for you?”
“Yes, in exchange, they keep half.”
I slowed my enthusiastic eating. “You think something happened.”
The gun emerged. “Stay close.”
He prowled through his house—a place of comfort strewn with big furniture and a room dedicated entirely to books. More than I
could read in a lifetime—a challenge I looked forward to beating.
Another bedroom had stacks of clothes and boxes of shoes. Not just for men. Women and what seemed like children’s wear too. He’d been hoarding and not stupid shit like jewelry. I’d met some people who thought surrounding themselves in the past’s trappings made them wealthy. I saw riches differently these days.
Could it clothe me? Feed me? Defend me? Love me…
As we went through the house, we saw no signs of anyone having entered. All his traps remained intact, yet that pinched expression didn’t leave his face.
“I need to go out for a bit. Lock the door after I leave.”
I sounded way too whiny and codependent when I said, “Where are you going?”
“To check on my neighbor.”
“The one who didn’t pick the apples?”
“Yeah. He and his wife aren’t getting any younger.”
How could I refuse?
I did demand a kiss and a promise. “Come back to me.”
“Depends…What’s in it for me?” he teased.
“Epic blow job.” I’d give him two if it brought him back safe.
“Well hell, I would have settled for a kiss.” He got one. Two. Three.
He peeled me from him. “I gotta go.”
“Maybe I should go with you.”
He shook his head. “It’ll be faster if I go alone. Plus I need to warn Benoit about you. He can be trigger-happy with strangers.”
With that final warning, he left, and I paced. So much for my belief the country was safer.
It took forever—twenty-seven minutes according to my clock, which I wound religiously every week—before he returned.
I sat behind the bolted front door, shotgun in my lap.
He rapped. “Lia, it’s me.”
I flung open the door and grabbed Xavion in a hug. I’d known him long enough to realize I didn’t want to lose him.
He held me tight and whispered, “It’s okay.”
“Is it? How’s your neighbor?”
“Dead.”
I leaned back enough to see his face. “What killed him?”
A bleak expression tugged his features. “A bullet to his head. His wife wasn’t feeling good last time I saw them. Some kind of chest infection. Guess it got worse. I saw a handmade cross over a freshly dug spot in his front yard. I don’t think he took it well.”
I could only hug him tighter. I understood the loneliness. Worse than anything I could imagine, but at the same time, I’d mostly been alone before the apocalypse. How much worse would it be to lose someone, to be thrust into solitude after having had the companionship of someone you loved?
What would I do if I lost Xavion?
I didn’t need to say anything. He understood. Probably felt the same way I did.
Desperate. And needy. What if this was our last moment? Shouldn’t we enjoy it?
With clumsy fingers, I attacked his clothes. I wanted him naked so I could reassure myself he’d returned unharmed. I needed to feel his flesh. In moments, we were naked, and I was being carried to our bed.
The sheets still held the crisp scent of being dried outdoors. But it was the scent of him, the musk, the heat that I craved. I tugged him down to me so that his heavy body covered mine.
We kissed, our tongues meshing with a familiarity that always thrilled. The head of his hard cock nudged the petals of my sex.
I was tempted to let him in, to have him fill me with his cock. But I had made a promise.
I broke off the kiss to give him an order, “Lie on your back.”
“You want to ride?” He grinned as he rolled over.
“Maybe, but first, I think I owe you something for coming back in one piece.”
“You don’t have to…Ah.” He gasped as I ignored him and grabbed his jutting dick.
I loved looking at it. Long. Thick. Slightly curved. Just right to bring me pleasure.
Was it any wonder I loved pleasing him?
One hand gripped him tight, and my other cupped his sac, kneading it. His cock pulsed in my hand.
I leaned forward and took it into my mouth, tasting the saltiness of his excitement. I gave him a little suck.
He sighed.
I almost smiled, but cock sucking was serious business. I bathed his cock with my tongue, swirling it around, exploring every inch before I took him into my mouth. I loved sucking him. Watching him trying to act as if he had control.
He didn’t.
His hands fisted the sheets. His hips twitched. His dick pulsed in my mouth.
When I started a fast bob, his head arched and his neck went taut. The balls I kneaded and fondled drew tight.
He groaned. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”
“Good.”
“Not good,” he growled. “I want to be inside you.”
He flipped me onto my back, and my legs parted that he might thrust into me. He pumped me with his big dick. Drove into me over and over until I gasped and knew my nails must be leaving marks in his shoulder.
I was going to come.
I was so close…
And that bastard slipped out.
But I forgave him when he replaced his cock with his tongue. He licked between my nether lips, teasing me before he concentrated on my clit. He flicked it with his tongue and sucked it, driving me wild.
Bringing me to the brink.
Until I came.
I shuddered and climaxed, but he wasn’t done. He slid into me and began thrusting. Over and over until I trembled and squeezed.
I came with a loud scream. And still he kept pounding, drawing out my orgasm, until somewhere around the third wave, he came too.
And said the thing I’d been thinking but was too scared to speak aloud.
“I love you.”
Chapter 17
Once Xavion said it, I was freed to say it too. And I did, over and over.
If I thought I was happy before, this was paradise in comparison.
Me and my man, with our own little place. Working the land. Him mostly. I still had a killer thumb. Instead of growing things, I learned how to pickle and jar fruit. I just hoped I did it right so we had some all winter.
We settled into a routine, one that still had us locked inside at night but cozy in our bed.
So why was I determined to ruin it? Tracing circles on his chest, about a week after our arrival, I blurted out, “Have you given up on eliminating the mutants?”
“Maybe I found something better to dedicate my life to.”
That reply got him the best sex of his life. Still, I couldn’t help but think about it later.
He’d been doing something good. That might make a difference. Especially now that I knew the mutants might be working together.
I ended up asking him, “What are the chances the mutants come after us?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Honestly? No fucking clue. I just know if they dare come out here, then we’ll deal with them. But I doubt we’ll have many to worry about. As the monsters get older, they’ll start dying off. Winter is especially harsh on them.”
I tried to feel his confidence and yet couldn’t help a certain disquiet wondering if we were in the eye of the storm.
My trepidation gave away to excitement when, two weeks after our arrival, he said, “Get yourself dolled up. We’re going to market.”
I might have stopped breathing. I know my eyeballs dried out as I forgot to blink. I managed a zombie-like, “Whaaaa?”
“Market. The full moon is almost here, which is the designated time for those who want to meet at the country fairgrounds to swap stuff.”
It sank in. “We’re going shopping!” Be still, my screaming girly heart. Until it occurred to me, “We don’t have a car to bring stuff home.”
“Or anything to pull a carriage, meaning we can only bring and trade what we can carry ourselves.”
“Carry?” There went my dream of coming home laden with packages.
&nb
sp; “With the two of us, we’ll be able to get a whole bunch of stuff. Good thing you learned to ride that bike.”
He’d insisted on teaching me how to not only ride on two wheels by myself but then proceeded to teach me how to handle small jumps while going at fast speed—in case we needed to escape.
Turned out my fear of having to carry stuff, or balance it on my handlebars, was unfounded. My bike—a bright purple with streamers—acquired a trailer on the back, the kind used before by yuppie mommies and daddies to drag their kids around.
Since we’d pickled and jarred enough already for our own use, we loaded the trailers with the leftover apples. Too many for the two of us to consume. Xavion also had stuff he brought out of the garage, cartons of smokes, a few bottles of booze, one of tequila that I bargained my virtue right then and there for.
“You get the stuff that can’t be made from the city,” I remarked as we headed off.
“Yup. Foraging is why I can avoid becoming a full-time farmer.”
“But you look sexy in jeans and cowboy boots.” When he took that shirt off and sweated in the fall afternoon sun, I usually showed him how much.
He grinned at me. “And you were made for plaid.”
Once upon a time, I would have gone naked before wearing any. Now? I enjoyed my plaid jammies that kept me warm on chilly autumn nights.
“How far is this place?”
“Only a few miles.”
Miles that had traffic. Of sorts.
A man with an honest-to-goodness wagon being pulled by some big cow-looking beasts. Only they lacked the milk titty underneath. A few people cantered by on horses.
I gaped like a country bumpkin. Tears filled my eyes, too, enough I had to stop, which drew Xavion close to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“People.” It was the only word I managed to sob. Not just a couple but an actual community’s worth. It gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, humans could rebuild. Start over.
As things got busy, we got off our bikes and pulled them, the weight of the apples not so easy over the trampled grass of the field. Some folks, like us, wandered with little carts or bulging packs. Others, like the guy with the wagon, parked and waited for potential traders to come to him.
