coming. Please get me loose.”
I stared at the hefty chains around here wrists and ankles and then noticed the pad locks. There was nothing I could do for her.
“I’m sorry.” The sound of my own voice frightened me. It was weak and scratchy, reflecting the amount of time that had passed since I’d actually used it. “I can’t do anything for you.”
“Fuck you then,” the woman spat, her fear and hurt boiling into anger. “I hope he finds you. I hope he cuts your balls off and shoves them down your throat. He’s coming and he’s not going to like it that you’re here.”
I weighed my odds. The scavenger would most likely be in his own suit. He would probably even be armed. He knew the layout of the apartment. He’d have every advantage. I turned to the woman once more.
“I’m sorry,” I said, again, unable to find the words to describe what I was feeling. It was hard putting that stuff into words. “I’m so sorry.”
I started for the stairwell just as the elevator door began to open. My escape was cut off. I turned, and darted further into the apartment. The only thing I could do, at that point, was hide.
I slumped down behind a pile of liquor boxes stacked near the opposite wall from the bedroom door and peered through the cracks left by their clumsy stacking. The scavenger pushed through the small doorway, squatting. His suit was immense, much bigger than the standard sizes I’d seen over the years. He looked like an alien mech from Space Force Alpha , intent on destroying the world. The immense .50 caliber rifle strung across his back did little to change the image of invading alien warrior. The suited man dropped a large green duffle bag of loot on the floor and then stared through the open bedroom doorway at the woman. He just stood there, staring, and I was sure he was going to be able to feel the vibrations of my heart thudding in my chest.
Don’t take the suit off, I silently begged. Please don’t take the damn suit off. I knew that, right then, we were close enough that if he did take it off, our mutual infections would touch off and, if we didn’t die, he’d know I was there. His burning skin would tell him.
I was also sure the woman was going to give me away at any moment. I hadn’t helped her, not that I could. She’d do it out of spite if nothing else. I had no idea what I’d do if she did. I had no idea what I’d do about the armed man in the massive suit. I could try and just run and I decided, right then, that’s what I’d do if it came to it. I’d just run and take my chances.
The man laid the massive rifle next to the duffle bag and began the slow process of removing his armor. I half expected some little alien thing to crawl out of the giant suit, like in an episode of Doctor Who, but it was just a man, the largest man I’d ever seen, with the absolute worst case of Plague scarring I’d ever seen, but just a man. He was naked under the bio-armor. Even beneath the multitude of plague scars, I could see his rippling muscles. Much of his body had been covered in tattoos which were now distorted by the mass of scars that riddled his body. This was a man who’d been up close and personal to the plague. His entire body was covered in the scars of old boils and blisters and, when he turned half sideways, I saw that his large penis was also scarred, turning it into some sort of twisted, brunt dildo. I’d heard of the survivors who didn’t care about the infection, who’d engage in sexual intercourse anyway. I couldn’t even imagine the act, an act where both partners were likely to die from the contact.
I panicked with each part of armor he pulled off, sure I was about to finally fall victim to the Preacher’s Plague. I kept feeling my bare arms, fingers rolling over my own old plague scars, searching for new signs of blistering. I guess he was far enough from me, across the large room, that it didn’t catch. Ten, twenty feet was often enough
I stared at the hefty chains around here wrists and ankles and then noticed the pad locks. There was nothing I could do for her.
“I’m sorry.” The sound of my own voice frightened me. It was weak and scratchy, reflecting the amount of time that had passed since I’d actually used it. “I can’t do anything for you.”
“Fuck you then,” the woman spat, her fear and hurt boiling into anger. “I hope he finds you. I hope he cuts your balls off and shoves them down your throat. He’s coming and he’s not going to like it that you’re here.”
I weighed my odds. The scavenger would most likely be in his own suit. He would probably even be armed. He knew the layout of the apartment. He’d have every advantage. I turned to the woman once more.
“I’m sorry,” I said, again, unable to find the words to describe what I was feeling. It was hard putting that stuff into words. “I’m so sorry.”
I started for the stairwell just as the elevator door began to open. My escape was cut off. I turned, and darted further into the apartment. The only thing I could do, at that point, was hide.
I slumped down behind a pile of liquor boxes stacked near the opposite wall from the bedroom door and peered through the cracks left by their clumsy stacking. The scavenger pushed through the small doorway, squatting. His suit was immense, much bigger than the standard sizes I’d seen over the years. He looked like an alien mech from Space Force Alpha , intent on destroying the world. The immense .50 caliber rifle strung across his back did little to change the image of invading alien warrior. The suited man dropped a large green duffle bag of loot on the floor and then stared through the open bedroom doorway at the woman. He just stood there, staring, and I was sure he was going to be able to feel the vibrations of my heart thudding in my chest.
Don’t take the suit off, I silently begged. Please don’t take the damn suit off. I knew that, right then, we were close enough that if he did take it off, our mutual infections would touch off and, if we didn’t die, he’d know I was there. His burning skin would tell him.
I was also sure the woman was going to give me away at any moment. I hadn’t helped her, not that I could. She’d do it out of spite if nothing else. I had no idea what I’d do if she did. I had no idea what I’d do about the armed man in the massive suit. I could try and just run and I decided, right then, that’s what I’d do if it came to it. I’d just run and take my chances.
The man laid the massive rifle next to the duffle bag and began the slow process of removing his armor. I half expected some little alien thing to crawl out of the giant suit, like in an episode of Doctor Who, but it was just a man, the largest man I’d ever seen, with the absolute worst case of Plague scarring I’d ever seen, but just a man. He was naked under the bio-armor. Even beneath the multitude of plague scars, I could see his rippling muscles. Much of his body had been covered in tattoos which were now distorted by the mass of scars that riddled his body. This was a man who’d been up close and personal to the plague. His entire body was covered in the scars of old boils and blisters and, when he turned half sideways, I saw that his large penis was also scarred, turning it into some sort of twisted, brunt dildo. I’d heard of the survivors who didn’t care about the infection, who’d engage in sexual intercourse anyway. I couldn’t even imagine the act, an act where both partners were likely to die from the contact.
I panicked with each part of armor he pulled off, sure I was about to finally fall victim to the Preacher’s Plague. I kept feeling my bare arms, fingers rolling over my own old plague scars, searching for new signs of blistering. I guess he was far enough from me, across the large room, that it didn’t catch. Ten, twenty feet was often enough
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