David picked his way carefully over the rubble. He avoided large piles
that might collapse further. Pausing for the hundredth time to listen for sounds
of other life, he soon resumed walking. He had no idea where he was trying to
walk to. The thought of "getting out of town" put a momentary smile in front of
his generally stunned expression. He wished there was still a town to get out
of. He couldn't believe it. After all the warnings, the scary false alarms, he
had come to think the war would never come. Those damned Canadians. He swore
foully. At least we're probably giving it back to them. Eat fallout, Mounties!
He amused himself again mentally pronouncing "fall-ote" in a Canadian accent. He
altered his path again to avoid another body. Looked like everybody who'd been
outside had been incinerated by the flash and blast. Everyone inside had been
crushed under collapsed building materials. Except himself, it appeared. He'd
been retrieving a lost billiard ball under a heavy pool table, and suddenly the
world made no sense. When his body stopped spinning, followed by his mind a few
minutes later, he and the table were leaning against a wall that had been in
another room. The table had given him protection as the ceiling fell in all
around him. His hearing seemed to come back slowly. It was hard to tell; by this
time there wasn't much to hear. The useless air-raid sirens had long since
stopped. He'd ignored them. Lot of good it would have done if he'd paid any
attention. Maybe his decision not to seek shelter had saved his life. He had
pushed the rubble away, finally, that surrounded the table, and walked a few
steps out into daylight. A large, angry cloud a little to the east was starting
to disperse under the ministrations of the winds aloft. Somehow the cloud made
it seem real. Never mind the collapsed city all around; there's a mushroom
cloud! It had really happened. He had started stumbling down the street. That
had been twenty minutes ago. He had thought at first he should see if he could
find some rescue operations going on, maybe help out. Sirens were one of the
things he was listening for: they'd help him figure out where to go. Meanwhile
he wandered aimlessly. He wondered briefly about radiation. Probably enough to
kill me, he thought, except I understand it takes awhile. Possibly he had a
week. Who knows what could happen in that amount of time. Maybe they'll find a
cure. A lot of the surroundings were still smoking. In fact, he could see a
number of fires going, still fairly confined. He started heading in a direction
where there seemed to be less smoke. Good thing it was a warm day. Indoors, he'd
been walking around in his boxer shorts, nothing else. He hadn't anticipated
walking down the street that way. As it was, it was comfortable enough. He was
entering a nicer section of town, where the piles of rubble were a little
farther apart, separated by smoking brownery that had recently been greenery.
Trees on both sides of the street were burning. He moved out into the middle of
the street, and froze when he heard a muffled moan. He waited at least a minute,
convinced at last that it must have been his imagination, before hearing it
again. There, in that house to the left. It had collapsed like all the others,
but someone was alive in there. Running widely around some smoking shrubbery, he
reached the foundation of the house and listened again. There was a wall, what
was left of it, about five feet high around twenty feet in front of him. The
moaning was issuing from just the other side of it. He picked his way through
what may have been a living room, towards an opening in the wall. There was a
bed, a large brass arch at its head to his right, a large section of ceiling now
leaning across the foot of the bed and the arch. In the narrow triangle formed
by the ceiling, the bed, and the arch, a woman lay, struggling. She was lying on
her side, facing away from him. At the sound of his footstep, her head spun
around towards him, her body not able to follow. He gulped and nearly backed
around the corner, apologizing, before he realized her modesty was probably not
a major concern at this point. She was naked, and from all appearances had been
involved in some sort of sexual game at the time of the blast. Her wrists were
handcuffed behind her, and thick metal shackles held her feet together. A short
chain, only a few inches long, connected the handcuffs and shackles. She looked
at him in terror, straining every part of her body to try to escape from the
bondage that had been a game until a short while ago, and was now a horrifying
handicap in a world where there were no games any longer. She tried to talk to
him, possibly to beg or plead, or explain, but her gag prevented it. It was a
cylinder of plastic, her lips a wide O around it, held in place by a chain that
ran through holes in the front of the cylinder and wrapped around her head. He
wasn't sure how he could tell, maybe from his eyes tracing the lines of her face
and his brain mentally reconstructing how she would look under normal
circumstances, but his impression was that she was an exceptionally pretty girl.
In spite of her face being coated irregularly with what he assumed was
tear-streaked plaster-dust, her short brown hair being matted with sweat and
tears, he felt she could easily play a leading role in his sex-fantasies. It was
purely an intellectual observation; he didn't have sex on his mind at the
moment. The smell of smoke was getting stronger, accompanied by a crackling
sound. He couldn't see flames at the moment from where he was standing, but he
remembered clearly there were some nearby. He looked back at her. "Are you hurt
anywhere? Can you move?" She just stared at him, and he realized belatedly he
was going to have to keep it to a single yes-or-no question at a time. "Are you
hurt?" She looked towards her knees, which seemed to be wedged in the narrowest
space between the ceiling section and the mattress. "Do you think anything's
broken?" She shrugged, and shook her head. "Can you get loose by yourself?" He
felt hesitant to touch her; it was enough of a violation of her privacy just to
be looking at her. She renewed her attempts to tug herself free, but gave up in
a minute and looked back at David, the tears flowing again, and shook her head.
"Look, don't worry, I'm going to try to get you out." He stood upright and
surveyed the wreckage. He thought he might be able to lift the ceiling section
off, but as he got his shoulder under it and pushed upward, nothing happened. He
looked towards the front of the bed: jagged pieces of the section seemed to be
wedged within the upright supports of the brass arch. He might pull the section
outward away from the bed. . . no, then it would slip down and might be heavy
enough to crush her, and anyway, there was too much fallen junk at that end for
him to get over there. He could see flames, now, from the next yard over. His
stomach flopped around and sent chills through his body. Shit, he thought, I
can't spend much time fooling around here. Lucky for her she wasn't in a
position to see the fire yet. "I'm going to have to try to pull you out. I think
I can push the mattress down a little and get your knees free. I --- I'll have
to touch you, you know." With as little time as there was left, he still felt he
needed her permission. She closed her eyes and shook with an apparent spasm of
pain. Opening them again, she nodded at him. He bent down and reached into the
small space next to her knees. He couldn't seem to find anything that worked:
reaching in from the side like that, he couldn't manage to push down very hard
once he got his hand next to her knees, and for him to actually touch her knees
required that he get his head in under the ceiling section, and there wasn't
quite room for it. He gave up for the moment and looked into the yard again.
Flames still closer. Muttering, "Shit, shit, shit. . " under his breath, he
tried the only other thing he could think of that might work. There was more
room under the ceiling section towards the head of the bed. He crawled in
underneath it towards her. There is no other way, he told himself, to get a firm
enough hold on her. He wriggled his left hand between her thighs, pushing
through until he felt her crotch against the crook of his elbow, drawing his
forearm flat against her stomach. He reached with his other arm under her head,
bent it around her shoulder, his right hand reaching to clasp his left just
below her breasts. He bent at the waist then, pushing as hard as he could with
his thighs against the edge of the bed, trying to pull her towards him. She
whimpered with pain as her knees were slowly drawn out of their trap, the skin
on the side of her left knee scraping painfully against the ceiling. Suddenly
she was free, and he backed out of the small space with her in his arms. He set
her on the floor, and looked at the scrape on her knee. "That's going to hurt
awhile, but it's not too bad. I'll try to clean it later." The rush of success
had momentarily driven the fire out of his mind, but he glanced behind him and
saw it creeping towards the house. "Keys! I'll get you out of this stuff as soon
as I get a chance, but there's no time right now. We'll take the keys along with
us. Where are they?" She gasped with her first unobstructed view of the rest of
the room. She jerked her head towards the impossible pile of rubble beyond the
foot of the bed. "Jeezus. They're under there somewhere?" She nodded, starting
to cry again. "Look, we'll have to try to come back for them later. It's. . .
ohmigod." He had just noticed a puddle of blood seeping out from under the
wreckage. Somebody was under that. There was no way he was alive. Chalk up
another point for Canada. Flames had reached the house and were starting to
creep around it. "We've got to get out of here. Sorry, this won't be too
comfortable." He reached down to help her onto her knees on the floor. His first
intention was to rest the weight of her legs and back on his arms, but her
hogtie prevented her from bending much at the waist, and he'd have to keep his
arms too far apart or else risk having her fall out to one side or another. He
decided he'd have to carry her upright. Reaching down, he put his hand between
her thighs again, and grunted as he picked her up, her crotch resting on his
forearm, and he wrapped his other arm around her to steady her as he started to
pick his way out of the house and into the yard, away from the fire. She let out
an inarticulate screech as she saw the flames for the first time, and he saw her
close her eyes. She pressed her head against his, and he could feel their hearts
thundering together. There was still a clear path out to the street, and he
chose that instead of going into a wooded area behind the house --- he had a
feeling the fire could get through it faster than he could. Reaching the street,
he started walking down it, grunting periodically and trying to shift his burden
without taking the time to stop and put her down for a better grip. The street
was a cul-de-sac. At the end, an area had been cleared for the homes that would
go there --- would have gone there, would never now be built. He suspected
property values hereabouts had just about hit rock bottom. Behind the clearing,
the land dropped off abruptly into a ravine. He looked back in the other
direction: fire was creeping ahead on both sides now, slowly. It wasn't a
towering blaze; the area had had several inches of rainfall in the last week,
and the vegetation was a little too moist to burn very well, but burn it did. It
seemed possible he might be able to wait this out if he stayed in the middle of
the street. He laid her down carefully on her side, and sat down next to her.
She had momentarily stopped crying, and simply lay looking stunned. He stroked
her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Down the street, the
house she had been in was now engulfed in flames. "Did you live there?" She
shook her head tiredly. "Did --- Do --- Ah, did you know him?" She glared at him
with a what-do-you-think-I-am kind of look, then her face seemed to crumple as
she began sobbing louder than ever. She nodded her head, and kept nodding and
crying. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I just. . ." He couldn't decide whether
touching her now would seem the ultimate boorish maneuver. But she just seemed
so lost and alone, and he shuddered as his imagination succeeded, just for an
instant, telling him what it would be like to be alone, helpless, naked, and
chained in the middle of a street in a world gone loony. He lifted her upper
body off the ground and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight and
stroking her back gently, as he crooned, suspecting it to be the most whopping
lie he'd ever told, "Everything will be all right. Everything's okay now. Don't
worry, we'll get out of this." He continued stroking her as she sobbed, sensing
it was time to shut up. Her skin felt soft and warm next to his, and as she
rested her chin on his shoulder and pressed herself harder against him, he let
his mind drift and go blank, as he watched the late-afternoon sun gradually sink
below a horizon notched with vertical bars of smoke all around.
AFTER - Part 2
It was getting hot, there, as David crouched holding the girl in the big
asphalt circle at the end of the street. He thought about retreating into the
cleared area behind him, in the cul-de-sac, but there was enough dry, dug-up
brush scattered around it that he didn't feel sure the fire couldn't spread into
it. The sun was down, now, and in the absence of electricity, they would have
been in total darkness in the moonless night if it hadn't been for the eerie
light of the fires. He was afraid to go back up the street, as the narrow
asphalt strip gave less room between the flames on both sides than he had in the
circle, but he thought he might be forced to make a run for it later. It would
sure be better if she could run on her own. In the Waverly light he examined the
chains holding her closely for the first time. The handcuffs were fastened
tightly, with no chain between them, just two thick interlinked metal rings
allowing the cuffs to twist independently, but not allowing her to get her
wrists more than a half-inch apart. The ankle-shackles were particularly
daunting, metal strips at least an inch wide circling each ankle, held together
by a strong hinge, with a locking mechanism too well-hidden within the metal for
him even to find, let alone release. The chain running between the shackles and
handcuffs was attached by padlocks at either end. He wished he could at least
get the gag out. The chain got in the way of putting his finger down it to check
how long it was. He tried for several minutes to somehow tease it out of her
mouth, but it was held too tightly. "Have you done this kind of thing before?
Are you familiar with these particular cuffs and things?" She nodded her head,
coughing slightly. "Well, is there some kind of trick release I'm missing? Maybe
you could get out of them without keys?" She closed her eyes as the tears
started again, and shook her head, afterwards coughing again at greater length.
Oh, God, he thought, the smoke. And she can't even close her mouth! If I don't
get her out of here, she's going to die of smoke inhalation. He looked up the
street once more. He couldn't run that gauntlet of flame, not carrying her. He
looked down at the only possession either of them had: his boxer shorts. Bingo,
he thought, but it still took some nerve to take them off in front of her. Only
fair, he decided. We might as well both be naked. He slipped them down his legs,
trying to hide the erection that, despite his fear, he couldn't seem to get rid
of as he looked at her. It wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary to slip them
over her head, but he decided he'd feel a little better, and she'd feel a little
safer, if she couldn't see how turned-on he was getting. She seemed to panic a
little as he pulled the shorts down over her eyes, but he reassured her, "Shh,
it's okay, you need to breath through this so you won't choke on the smoke. Hold
still and I'll hold it in place for you." She subsided, and he pressed the
fabric against the hole in the gag, and let it cover her nose a little more
loosely, keeping it in place with his hand across her forehead. They were both
sweating freely as the heat built up. He kept thinking how much he wished the
bomb had gotten him in the first place, rather than going out this way. His
heart was pounding, and the only thing that kept him calm was the thought that
he needed to seem brave in front of her. She leaned against him, whimpering with
fear, unable now to see whether she was about to be engulfed in flames. The
smoke was getting to him now, and he put his head next to hers inside the
shorts, filtering his own air through the fabric. It must have been at least an
hour later that he chanced a look at the world beyond his shorts. At the far end
of the street the flames seemed to be dying down, a phenomenon that gradually
spread down the street towards them. He allowed himself to think for the first
time that they might manage to get through this. In another hour the fire had
more or less burnt itself out, at least as far as their immediate surroundings
were concerned. He couldn't tell from where they were, but he assumed it had
gone looking for greener pastures. The light was quickly dying, to be replaced
by a blackness deeper than any he had ever seen in a lifetime of city living.
They'd have to wait until morning to start finding what they needed to stay
alive. He gently lowered her to the asphalt to lay on her side, and then he lay
down in front of her, drawn to her not by sexual feelings now but wanting to
stay close to the only other person in his entire universe. He put his arms
around her and felt her breasts pressing against his chest. When he put his knee
between her legs he thought she might object, but she snuggled closer to him,
and raised her head off the ground to rest it on top of his. Exhausted, he
mumbled, "G'night, whatever your name is," and she responded, "Mmm-hmm." Sleep
evaded him for a time, but he inevitably found a way to catch up with it. * * *
He awoke not remembering for a moment where he was, and his surroundings weren't
a big help: there was nothing that looked remotely familiar to help him get his
mind in gear. He thought at first he was locked in an embrace with his
ex-girlfriend Lisa, but a look down both their smoke-darkened bodies reminded
him finally of what had happened yesterday. The sky itself seemed heavily
cloudy, but it may have been smoke. With the lack of sunlight it was a little
cooler than yesterday, but still comfortable. He gently untangled himself from
her as she began to stir, standing up and retrieving his shorts, lying next to
her head. He felt tremendously thirsty, and could only imagine how much more
intense the feeling must be for her, after breathing through her open mouth for
the last twelve hours or so. She tried to stretch her muscles and started
struggling against the cuffs and chains, probably as disoriented as he had been.
She stopped suddenly, remembering, and looked up at him. "Morning, Sunshine. We
made it through." She nodded, and her lips seemed to approximate a smile around
her gag. "I need to see if I can find us some water. Do you know this
neighborhood very well?" She looked around a little, and finally shook her head.
"I don't suppose you know which ones of these homes have pools, do you?" That
was the best bet, he figured. He had doubts that any of these burnt-out shells
would still have working plumbing. She shrugged. "Would you be okay if I left
you for a little while to look around?" A look of alarm grew on her face, and
she shook her head vehemently, wiggling along the ground now to get closer to
him, making scared noises. He sat next to her, stroking her shoulder. "No,
you'll be okay, really. There's nobody around here to hurt you." She was still
shaking her head. "Are you afraid I won't come back?" She stared him full in the
face for several heartbeats, and finally gave him a tiny nod. He picked her up
and held her close to him. "I'm not about to leave you. I haven't gone through
all this just to leave you lying in the middle of the street." She was crying
again, and a way to reassure her of his intention to keep track of her occurred
to him. He bent his head and kissed her breast, darkened with soot like the rest
of her (and him, for that matter), then took the nipple in his mouth and started
gently sucking. Her breath caught in surprise, but she didn't try to pull away.
Her eyes closed, and the sucking seemed to calm her. After a few minutes, he
stopped, and she opened her eyes to find he was looking at her. He said quietly,
"You know I don't plan to leave you, don't you?" She gave him a tiny smile and
nodded. "I won't be gone very long. We both need water. As soon as I find some
I'll come back and get you. Okay?" After a few seconds she nodded, finally. He
let her back down to the street. As he patted her and started to walk away, it
occurred to him she'd probably be a lot more comfortable on the plowed-up dirt
in the vacant lot behind them than on the asphalt. The fire hadn't managed to
find enough fuel in the clearing, and the area looked pretty much untouched. He
picked her up and carried her to a particularly soft-looking mound of overturned
earth, not too far from the edge of the plot overlooking the ravine. She wiggled
to form a depression in it to cradle her comfortably. As he backed away from
her, saying, "It'll probably take me ten minutes, at the most," she smiled and
raised her hands slightly to give a little good-bye sign from behind her back.
Even through his boxer shorts, she must have been able to tell he had an
erection. She didn't seem to mind. He walked quickly up the street, looking back
frequently, glancing into each yard as he passed for some sign of water. The
second house around the corner on the left had a pool. He nearly missed it: the
surface was completely calm, and darkened to the same hue as its surroundings,
but a tiny glint from a stray reflection managed to catch his eye. Picking his
way through the yard, he decided he really didn't care much for the look of it,
but it would have to do. The thin layer of dust on top wouldn't be too tasty and
was presumably radioactive, as if anything else around here wasn't, but he was
in no position to be too particular. He started back towards her, and was
startled to hear the sound of an engine. Instinctively he ducked down behind the
remains of a wall of the house, now about three feet high. A floater came into
sight, its top down, the driver with an arm draped casually along the top of the
door. He stopped a couple of times and stood surveying the landscape, appearing
to be trying to get his bearings in a neighborhood stripped of any familiar
landmarks. David crouched indecisively, not sure whether to call attention to
himself. He didn't really care for the look of this guy. The long hair, the
sleeveless muscle-shirt, the weed-stick hanging loosely from his lips. David
could hear one of the latest sex-music hits coming from the floater's speakers,
probably a disk; he doubted there were any radio stations broadcasting. The rear
bumper of the floater sported a bumper sticker, "Born to PARTY!" David's heart
jumped into his throat as the floater turned the corner and headed down the
cul-de-sac. Their street. Maybe he wouldn't see her. He'd back out of it as soon
as he saw it was a dead-end. The floater slowed as the end of the street came
into the driver's sight. He stopped and stood once more, surveying the horizon.
Shrugging, he sat and started forward again, towards the turn-around at the end.
David could see the girl on her mound, not able to get out of sight, probably
not knowing whether she should or not. The floater reached the end, and swung
into a wide turn. Halfway through, the driver did a double-take. He'd spotted
her. David looked around himself frantically. A pole, about twelve feet long,
undamaged, lay next to the pool. It'd be awkward to carry, but it might be the
best he could do. He retrieved the pole and looked to see what the driver was
doing. He had gotten out of the floater, and covered about half the distance to
the girl. He stopped at that point to look around, possibly suspecting some sort
of trap. David kept low, starting towards the end of the street after the guy
returned his attention to the girl. He was standing over her now, laughing,
talking to her. David could only imagine the conversation, but the girl was
shaking her head and trying to back away from him. As David drew closer, the
other let down his pants. David was about twenty feet away by now, and knew
there'd never be a better opportunity. The guy heard David's final rush and
turned quickly --- too quickly, and he fell in a heap, his feet tangled in his
trousers, managing thereby accidentally to avoid the pole as it came whipping
through about eye-level. He rolled to the side quickly, and David tried to
gather himself for another rush. It was tricky getting the pole back under
control, and meanwhile the other was hurriedly pulling his pants up. David swung
as his opponent was rising, catching him just below the shoulder and knocking
him back down again as the pole broke in the middle. David quickly reached down
to pull the loose piece out of the way, before it could be used against him. The
edge of the ravine was now just to his left, and he tossed the broken piece over
the edge. The other was rising again, staying warily back from the now-jagged
stick David was thrusting towards him. Suddenly he reached for it and took hold
of the far end, pushing it towards David. David, expecting a pull, fell
backwards and landed heavily on his side just a foot from the edge. As the other
rushed him, David put his arm out along the ground just before the man landed on
top of him. Wrapping his arm around the other then, he rolled to his left and
forced the man beyond the edge. About a fifty-foot drop. For at least a minute
David continued looking over the edge. He hadn't wanted to kill him; there'd
been enough death already. And he'd wanted those clothes. A grunting behind him
caught his attention finally. The girl was squirming across the dirt towards
him. He quickly reached over to scoop her up and take her in his arms. She
nuzzled against his neck with her hair, and gently pecked his cheek with the
front end of the gag, the closest she could come to a kiss. "Come on, let's go
get a drink." He put his hand between her thighs and stood up wearily, holding
her upright as before, her crotch resting on his forearm. "At least we don't
have to walk. Unless the keys went over with him." No, there were the keys,
still in the ignition of the floater. He put her down on her side across the
back seat and got in to drive. Not a long drive, just up the street and around
the corner, to the house with the pool. He carried her to the edge and set her
down, wondering as to the best way to get her a drink. It's amazing, he thought
to himself. She's a baby trapped in an adult's body. She's as naked, as
helpless, and nearly as un-communicative as a newborn, but with an adult's store
of memories, and to call it a source of frustration for her could hardly be an
adequate description. It must be why I'm being such a gentleman, he thought. It
was hardly something he was noted for. Lucky for her I found her first, and not
that asshole. Lucky for me, too. "You can swallow, can't you?" She nodded,
looking longingly at the water. "Okay, turn your face upward. I'm going to
dribble it in slowly, so you don't choke." He brushed at the surface of the
water with his hand, clearing away the thin layer of soot on the surface. He
cupped his hands, then, and drew out an ounce or two of dusty liquid, holding it
over the opening of her gag and letting it in a few drops at a time. He reached
in again, making progress with maddening slowness. Finally she grunted and
wiggled a little closer to the pool, putting her head over the edge towards the
water that was just out of reach. "Wait! You're about to fall in. You can't get
it that way. Wait a minute --- maybe I could just put you in the pool, and you
could drink it from there. Is that what you want?" She nodded eagerly. He picked
her up and took her to the other corner of the pool, where the steps were.
Gingerly, not wanting to drop her, he walked down into the pool with her. They
both gasped as the chill of the water took their breath away, and he waited
until she nodded she was ready to go farther. The safest way to hold her seemed
to be putting his leg through hers and letting her crotch rest on his thigh as
he sat on one of the steps. His head just out of the water, he carefully let her
down lower until the water finally rushed into the opening of the gag. He
quickly lifted her up, not wanting her to get too much, and let her down again
for more. When she seemed satisfied, he scooped some water into his hand and
patted the side of her face, washing off the worst of the grime. She sat
patiently, and a lovely face emerged from behind the soot. He smiled at her,
conscious of his own face probably looking like a chimney-sweep the way hers
had. "You ready to get out?" She nodded, and he lifted her out of the pool and
lay her on her side on the deck. My turn, he figured, as he got back in and took
a long, desperately needed draft of dusty-looking, burnt-smelling, heavenly
water. He ducked his head under the water and washed himself off, not expecting
to make himself as pretty as she was but determined to be presentable anyway. He
carried her back out to the floater, finally. "What do you say we go for a
ride?" Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her body and frantically shook
her head, obviously frightened by the prospect of being seen by any great number
of people. "Look, I know it's scary, but we've got to get out of here. There's
no food around here. Maybe we can find an area that wasn't burned out, and
there'll be some food in the houses." He thought about radioactivity again,
remembered being told not to eat the food in a contaminated area. What he
couldn't recall was just what he was supposed to eat instead. Maybe canned stuff
will be less dangerous. Anyway, the subject was moot as long as they stayed in
this neighborhood. By this time she had sighed and nodded, and he deposited her
in the back seat. He wished he could somehow set her free, and suddenly realized
that he now had possession of a floater, and floaters carried tools. He took the
key out of the ignition and opened the trunk. It was full of a random assortment
of useless junk. He pawed through it briefly and slammed the trunk closed in
disgust. He leaned over the door and opened the glove compartment, sifted
through the owner's manual and a few other papers, and threw it closed with a
snap. His anger building, he opened the side door and knelt down to look under
the seats. Nothing of any earthly good, and he used a lot of unnecessary force
slamming the door. The back of his mind froze him, trying to tell him something.
Something about the door. He looked at it again, opened it and slammed it again.
He bent down to look at the chain connecting her cuffs and shackles. Yeah, it
might work. "I want to try something. I think I can do something about this
chain here. It might be a little dangerous, but I think it'll work. You want to
try it?" She nodded excitedly, willing to do anything if she could just somehow
get loose. He reached in to pick her up, and set her down on her side across the
opened rear window, just behind the front door, facing the rear of the floater,
her upper body inside the vehicle, her legs outside. It took some
experimentation to get her more or less balanced there. Holding her steady, he
opened the door. While he was doing it he almost lost hold of her. He pressed
his hip more tightly against her, further steadying her, as he carefully slid
the chain down into the gap left by the opened door. "I better tell you what's
coming. I'm going to slam the door hard. I think it'll close on the chain with
enough force to break it. You ready?" She grunted, "Mmm-hmm," probably afraid
nodding her head would make her overbalance one way or the other. He took his
time getting ready, trying mainly to make sure her feet were out of the way, and
finally threw the door closed with all the force he could manage. He heard the
sharp clink as it closed on the chain, but the chain remained in one piece.
"Want me to try again?" "Mmm-hmm." The door didn't seem to want to open at
first, but the mechanism finally released it and he bent to inspect the chain. A
couple of the links were flattened and, he thought, probably weaker than before.
Again watching out for her feet, he threw the door closed again. "Still not
working yet, but I think we're getting somewhere. Oh, shit!" He was yanking on
the door-handle now, but the door seemed completely jammed. Great. Now she's
still chained up, and caught in a door. And I can't drive with her like that,
and I can't leave her alone perched up there. Shit. Open, damn it! She trembled
with the strain of trying to stay balanced on the narrow doorframe, and
whimpered a little, sounding scared and obviously aware of what was happening.
He patted her hip reassuringly. "It's okay, I'll have it open in a minute. I've
just got to get a better angle on it." He climbed over the door to try to kick
it open from the inside. His arm across the seat holding her by her upper arm,
he lashed out with his foot, twice. He realized the door probably wouldn't open
that way even without a chain jammed in it, not if he didn't hold the
door-handle out at the same time. Still holding her, he reached over the side of
the door with his other hand, pulled up on the handle, wondering what he could
possibly do if this didn't work, and struck outward with his foot again. With a
great scraping sound, the door opened outward, and the girl gasped as she felt
the chain part and cried out in pain as her legs straightened for the first time
in. . . had to be twelve hours or so. "I got it! You okay, honey?" A part of his
mind heard himself call her that and wondered at it. Still moaning, lying draped
over the side of the car, she responded, "Mmm-hmm." He picked her up and lay her
across the back seat. She squirmed onto her back and lay with her eyes closed,
pumping her legs slowly back and forth. "I still don't know what I can do about
the handcuffs. There's not enough space between them. Or the shackles either."
Or the damned gag. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. Still on her back,
she parted her knees, her ankles crossed. From behind her butt he could see her
reach through her crotch with an index finger, tapping it against her labia,
poking it slightly inside her. He felt a warm feeling rising inside him, and
something else rising in his shorts. He pulled them off. Getting too crowded in
there. As he lay on top of her, inside her, conscious of her legs wrapped around
him, her breasts pressed against his chest, and all the other places their
bodies touched, it seemed to him he'd loved girls before, and had sex with girls
before, but somehow they'd never been the same ones. Before.
AFTER - Part 3
He lay on top of her for a long time afterwards, his head next to hers,
feeling her nuzzle his ear from time to time. A stomach rumbled, he couldn't
tell whose, reminding him of an uncertain future -- where should he look for
some food? She sighed as he pulled his spent cock out of her, and he untangled
his legs from her and sat up on the seat beside her, stroking her arm as he
said, "We've got to drive around. There's nothing to eat around here. You want
to sit in front or in back?" She thought a moment, and twisted in the seat so he
could see her cuffed hands, her finger pointed towards the front of the car. He
picked her up and lifted her into the front seat, and walked around the floater
to get into the driver's seat next to her. As he started the engine, she nudged
him, and made an incomprehensible gesture with her head. He turned the engine
off. He knew the communication problem was frustrating, and he wanted to help
her out, but he couldn't think even of a category of questions to ask her. She
repeated the gesture, a pleading look in her eyes. "You want to go back to the
pool?" She closed her eyes and shook her head. She drew her knees up, struggling
to get her feet up past the dashboard -- probably would have been a lot easier
without her ankles being shackled together -- and straightened her legs upward
so that her feet brushed the top of the windshield. She tapped them against the
metal frame, and twisted in her seat to look towards the back of the floater,
doing her best to repeat the head-gesture again. Finally it clicked. "Oh, the
top! You want me to put the top up." It should have been obvious. Not many girls
would have wanted to ride around naked in an open convertible, especially with
the kind of nuts that were probably wandering around out there, spiritual
brothers of the owner of this car who'd been about to do God-knows what to her.
David searched the dashboard, thinking he'd probably feel better, too, with a
little protection between him and the outside world. There, that button there,
with the silhouette of an enclosed floater pictured under it. He pushed it, and
an electric motor began whirring as a telescoped metal canopy began rising from
the back, passing over their heads to eventually lock against the top of the
front windshield with a secure-sounding click. A bank of toggles set in the
driver's door raised the windows all around. It began getting warmer
immediately, but the air-conditioner started taking care of that once he had
started the engine. She grunted again as he put the floater in gear. This time
she looked a little embarrassed. She looked at him as if wanting him to guess
what she wanted without her having to tell him. "I don't really have anything I
could cover you up with. I'd let you have my shorts, but I can't get them on
you." He hadn't put them back on yet; they lay wadded up on the floor in front
of the rear seat. She shook her head. Rising a little off the seat, she put her
hands a little further down behind her butt and tapped her crotch with her index
finger. He'd seen that gesture before. He smiled quizzically. "Yeah, I'd like to
do it again, but. . ." He broke off as she rolled her eyes and glared at him.
She tapped her crotch again, this time following it with a gesture in which she
dropped her fingers downward as she wriggled them. "Ah. . . oh! You need to. .
." He stopped, now embarrassed himself. He was starting to get the same feeling
in his own bladder, but hadn't given it much thought yet. He hadn't thought
ahead enough to realize his responsibility for her was going to extend that far.
Mentally shrugging, he got out and came around to her side. The door was locked,
of course. All the doors locked automatically when the engine started, a feature
they had started putting in back during the car-jacking craze of the nineties.
He'd forgotten to unlock hers before getting out. "Can you reach the toggle,
there?" She twisted around and unlocked the door for him, and he lifted her out
of the floater and stood her next to it. He thought for a minute. She was
probably going to need to sit down, at least assuming she didn't want to pee on
her feet. He helped her sit, leaning against the side of the floater. "Do you
want me to leave you alone a minute?" She nodded, and he walked around to the
other side of the floater. He let his mind wander, trying to ignore the
depressing scene of charred remains of homes on both sides of the street, and in
a few minutes he walked back around to her. He could tell she hadn't been able
to pee, although the frustration on her face as she looked up at him told him
how much she wanted to. A lifetime of conditioning can make it nearly impossible
to exercise the bodily functions in any but the socially-approved settings, and
she seemed to be having some sort of block preventing her from peeing as she sat
on the ground, outdoors. "Do you think sitting in another position would help?"
She closed her eyes, obviously wishing she could be anywhere else doing anything
else, and responded at last with the tiniest nod. He looked around. The only
thing she could sit on in anything close to the normal posture was one of the
seats in the floater, and since it wasn't his he wouldn't really mind, but she
probably would have the same amount of trouble trying to pee on the upholstery
as she was having now. He knew he'd have to create the nearest approximation to
a normal situation. He squatted down and pressed his back hard against the side
of the floater, making a chair out of his legs, then lifted her up to sit on his
lap. "Close your eyes. You're not outside, you're in your bathroom at home,
sitting on the pot." He almost giggled as he congratulated himself for
remembering to leave the seat down. He decided not to say anymore, not wanting
to break the spell. It still didn't seem to be working. One last thing to try:
he'd heard once it was a little easier to make yourself pee if you heard some
running water. He couldn't have done it, under the circumstances, if his penis
hadn't still been limp after the recent sex, but he pointed it down and started
peeing. At least this'll take care of me, if it doesn't work for her. As he
finished, he could hear the dribbling sound continuing: it had worked, finally,
and she was peeing between his legs. She sighed as she finished, and twisted in
his lap to press her cheek against his. "You ready to go?" She nodded, and he
helped her back into the passenger seat. She scrunched down so only her head
could be seen from outside, and he finally put the floater in gear and sped off
down the street, in a spray of gravel and charred wood kicked up by the
floater's jets. David wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go, except that he
felt he'd have more luck driving out of town than into it. He wanted to avoid
the nearby Interstate; it was probably clogged with derelict vehicles that the
few survivors would be trying to navigate around, some of them more than a
little crazy. He drove through the neighborhood until he came to a decent-sized
boulevard, and turned south. Downtown was north. At first he had to do a fair
amount of weaving around, picking a path through randomly scattered floaters,
some overturned, some burned, along with a few bodies that by now were starting
to smell. It got easier as he went farther: the city was thinning out. Even the
obsolescent gas stations, rarely used these in these days of fuel cells, at the
edge of town were burned out. They had probably all gone up together as their
underground gasoline tanks ignited. He couldn't have used the gas, but most of
the stations included convenience stores to help them make ends meet, none of
which were still standing. As the last sign of the former civilization faded out
of view in his mirror, David felt mixed relief at not having to look at any more
of that, and uncertainty of where in hell (aptly put) he was going to find what
was needed to support two lives. By now there were no vehicles, coming, going,
or stopped. He wondered how far he'd have to go before he saw another human. It
was fifteen minutes before he saw the signs for the country store approaching on
his right: Sam's Best Foods, the hand-lettered billboard proclaimed. As he
pulled into the parking-lot, the girl sank further down into the seat, her head
now below the level of the window. David reached into the back for his shorts.
It didn't look like the sort of establishment that catered to the naked. There
were no other cars or floaters parked in front of the store. About fifty feet
away and a little farther back from the road there was a house, an ancient
pick-up truck parked next to it. A bell jingled as David pulled the door to the
store open. There was nobody at the counter in front. "Hello?" There didn't seem
to be anybody inside. He couldn't see why; there wasn't any visible damage.
"Anybody here?" He waited at the door, uncomfortable at entering an unattended
store. Got to start getting used to this, he told himself. There's a lot fewer
people and, he suspected, a lot fewer rules now. Speaking of rules: money! What
was he going to use? He remembered suddenly seeing a couple of credit cards in
the floater, belonging presumably to its late owner. He won't miss it, David
figured, and anyway he owes me for trying to kill me. He finally nerved himself
to go behind the counter and pick out a paper bag from a pile of them. First
things first, he decided: I'll look around later and see if they've got anything
like bolt-cutters, which looked unlikely, but they needed food no matter what,
and there was certainly plenty of that here. He realized he'd need to think
about what she could eat; she couldn't handle anything she'd have to chew. And
he didn't have any way of cooking anything. He found himself in front of several
shelves full of baby-food, which seemed just the thing, if she didn't find it
too humiliating. She was probably getting too hungry to care by now. He filled
half the bag with tiny bottles in all the flavors he could find. For himself he
settled on a couple of bottles of Planter's Peanuts, a couple of loaves of
bread, and filled the rest of the bag with an assortment of fresh fruit. On his
way out he saw some enormous bottles of distilled water, and shifted the bag to
his left arm so he could gather up one of the bottles with the other. That's
about it for one load, he thought. Have to put this out in the floater and come
back. Halfway to the floater, he froze and nearly dropped the bag when a voice
from the direction of the house called out, "You! Hold it right there!" Turning
his head towards the voice, he nearly fainted when he saw a shotgun: quaint,
antique, and pointed straight at his head. The owner of the voice and shotgun
was a grizzled, pot-bellied man looking about seventy: evidently, Sam. The voice
continued on without a waver: "You can just put them things down and come over
here." His own voice sounding like the old man's should have, David said, "T -
There was nobody inside. I thought maybe the place was deserted. I - I can pay
for this. Got a credit card in my floater." "Don't take credit cards here.
Wouldn't take one from a thief anyways. Put that bag down right where you are,"
he repeated. "If I put it down can I go?" "And sneak back later and try it
again? Not on your life. I know what happened in the city, I seen the cloud. 'Spect
I'll see more guys like you. Jail's big enough for all of ya. Rita?" he
bellowed. "Got the Sheriff on the wireless yet?" "Can't get through," came a
voice from inside the house. "Still too much crackling'. Phone's still dead
too." The old man gestured at David with the gun. "You come inside with me
then." David hesitated with uncertainty. What about the girl? How much more
trouble was he going to be in if they thought he'd kidnapped her? And raped her?
God! He heard the hammer cocked on the gun. Involuntarily his feet started
dragging him towards the old man. Both their heads turned at a noise from the
floater. The top unlatched from the windshield and started slowly folding itself
towards the back. "Ya got somebody with ya? Let's walk on over there and see.
No, wait. Rita!" He turned towards the house. "Get yer gun! You cover the car
while I keep a eye on this 'un." A stout old lady emerged from behind the screen
door, her own weapon ready. David's eye was attracted back to the floater by a
movement in the front. The girl's head appeared from beneath the side door, and
slowly, she stood. David was struck speechless. She was standing upright in
front of the seat now, exposed to mid-thigh, presenting her breasts, her bush to
the stunned trio of onlookers, and she turned slightly sideways now to show off
her handcuffs. David tore his gaze away and glanced at the old man out of the
corners of his eyes. He was staring at her, his jaw hanging open, the muzzle of
his forgotten weapon drooping downward. He was close enough. David struck
outward with his foot into the man's ample belly, and the man dropped to the
ground as his breath whooshed out of him, the gun falling off to the side as he
started coughing. There was a blast from the porch, followed instantly by a
snapping sound as the pellets fired by the gun whipped past his face. He
shouted, "Get down, now!" as he started sprinting for the floater, knowing he'd
be a difficult target from that distance and glad the barrel wasn't sawed off.
The twin barrels told him she could get one more shot off before reloading.
Possibly Sam might also recover and get to his weapon. David tossed the bag and
bottle into the back as he jumped over the door and settled into the driver's
seat, hearing the tiny bottles scatter as he gunned the engine, ducking down in
the seat as low as he could. As they began moving he heard a second blast, and
the floater shook as the pellets peppered the side. He stuck his head up just
enough to watch where he was going, shaking her shoulder as she lay on her side
next to him. "You okay? Are you hit?" She raised her head and looked up at him,
shaking her head, leaving him wondering which question she was answering. "Are
you okay?" She smiled at him and nodded, and squirmed forward to lay her head in
his lap. He drove down the road, out of range of the firepower behind him now,
absently stroking her hair as his thundering heart gradually slowed.
AFTER - Part 4
The day was growing a little cooler as the sun wandered West. David
continued sticking with backroads, and at least twenty minutes passed without
his catching sight of another soul. There didn't seem to be any damage out here;
the absence of people may have reflected a general desire to get out of range of
the spreading radioactive cloud, if possible. He had wanted to put as much
distance as he could between himself and any potential pursuit by the duly
constituted authorities in the form of the sheriff, assuming Sam could get in
contact with him, but hunger pangs started forcing him to look for a place to
stop. Beside him, the girl had been quiet, occasionally squirming briefly in her
seat to get a little more comfortable. He had put the top up again, knowing she
still probably didn't want to be seen from the road. A buzzing from the
dashboard called his attention to the power level, which until then he hadn't
really paid attention to. He saw with alarm the floater was nearly out of power.
He had no idea where the nearest store or charging station might be, but it
didn't look like he could get to one. As if to mock his concern, the floater
picked that moment to expire. He coasted off the road, his attention drawn to a
small, pretty clearing off to the right. The floater sank to its auxiliary
wheels and rolled silently to a stop in the clearing, surrounded by tall, leafy
trees that whispered in the now-quiet afternoon, sheltering the vehicle from
view from the road. "We're out of power, for now. I hope this guy has an
emergency cell somewhere in here. The law says he's got to, but I don't know if
that'd mean anything to him. But anyway. . . you hungry?" She nodded her head
emphatically, with a sigh. He opened the doors on either side, and as the
floater cooled in the cross-breeze he reached into the back and started picking
through the scattered bottles and other edibles. "Um, you know, I. . . well, I
wanted to thank you for what you did back there. Do you. . . ah, do you show
yourself off like that pretty often?" Her eyes widened as her lips curled
upwards around the gag, and she seemed close to laughing as she shook her head.
He smiled back at her, and fished a selection of three tiny bottles from behind
the seat. ``What do you think about strained peas, apricot, or mixed fruit?''
She wrinkled her nose and inclined her head towards the fruit bottle. As he
opened it he suddenly wondered just how to feed it to her. He hadn't gotten any
spoons, and he couldn't have easily gotten a spoon into her mouth anyway.
Meanwhile she rose to her knees on the seat, put her hands over the back of the
seat behind her and pointed towards the water bottle. ``Yeah, you're thirsty, I
know. But I don't have any drinking cups here, and if I tried to pour it
straight down your throat out of that bottle we'd probably lose most of it.
Look, after you finish the. . '' he didn't want to call it baby food, ``the
fruit, we can start using the empty bottle as a drinking glass, okay?'' She
sighed and nodded. He dipped a finger into the mushy fruit mixture, and
carefully slipped his finger into the side of her mouth, down the side of the
gag. ``You getting any?'' She swallowed with effort and nodded, ready for more.
He gradually fed her the whole bottle that way, then poured some water into the
bottle, not wasting any trying to rinse it out, and gradually took the edge off
her thirst before asking her, ``Want another bottle?'' She nodded towards the
stewed apricots this time, and he slowly fed it to her. She eventually decided
strained peas didn't sound so bad either. ``Still hungry?'' He wanted to save
the remaining baby food, not sure when he could get more. ``Want some bread?''
He thought he could break it into pieces small enough to swallow. She nodded,
and he fed her three slices in tiny bits before she finally sat back, apparently
satisfied. He gave her one more drink of water before making himself a meal out
of peanuts, a couple of apples and some bread. As he ate she lay her head in his
lap. closing her eyes and giggling as his stomach rumbled. The light was fading
as he finished. She roused herself from her snuggle within his lap, and looked
around for a moment. Before he quite realized what she was doing she sat up, put
her feet out of the floater and on the ground, and awkwardly stood up, swaying
slightly, trying to keep her balance. She tried for a moment to walk forward,
able only to slide each foot barely two inches ahead of the other, before
realizing she could make much better progress hopping. She took a couple of
tentative bounces away from the floater, stopping and swaying again. ``Hey!
Where are you going?'' He was stunned at the thought she might be trying to get
away for some reason. She looked towards him and pointed towards her crotch in a
gesture he'd seen before. Evidently she needed another potty break. ``Wait up.
I'll help you.'' She shook her head as she looked ahead once more to try to
resume her progress, waving him away with a short hand gesture, still
concentrating on staying upright. Obviously she wanted to try to do it herself.
He hesitated. He didn't like the idea of her getting out of his sight, as she
probably intended to do. He realized that the loss of her privacy and all
ability to take care of herself had to be getting to her, and by now it wouldn't
be surprising if she was desperate to reassert some sort of adult-ness and take
back some responsibility for herself. He felt a lot of sympathy for what she was
trying to do, at the same time afraid of what sort of disasters it could lead
to. She was about ten feet away now, nearly to the closest trees. Everything
male in him responded to the sight, as the naked girl hopped carefully away, her
hands held out somewhat stiffly behind her in the handcuffs as she used them for
balance, while everything protective in him shouted at him not to let her do
this. He nearly ran over to catch her, and suddenly a feeling washed through his
mind of what it would be like --- what it would really feel like to be her right
now. Probably only a tenth as strong as it really did feel to her, but enough to
send his mind reeling. He knew he had to let her do it. ``Ten minutes, okay?
Then I'm going to come bring you back.'' She had reached a tree by now and was
leaning against it, looking back towards him. She shook her head again. ``Come
on, you don't really expect me to sit here forever not worrying about whether
anything happened to you. Okay, fifteen, all right?'' She hesitated, and finally
nodded, turning away once more. A few more hops took her around the tree and out
of his view. He wished she could have done this earlier. The light was nearly
gone by now, the sky a deep, royal purple. After about ten minutes he stood
outside the floater, straining his eyes in the direction he'd last seen her,
trying to pick up signs of movement. He closed the door on the far side but left
the near one open; the power in the fuel cell was insufficient to run the
engine, but there was still plenty of juice to run the dome and dashboard
lights, which now stayed on as the door remained open. He was about to leave the
floater to go out there and find her, and leaving the lights on was the only way
he'd find his way back. Just five minutes more, he thought to himself, just
before hearing a muffled, alarmed grunt and a crashing sound. Shouting ``No!''
he sprinted for the trees, having to slow as soon as he entered the woods when
he lost the light completely. He shuffled ahead, calling out, ``You okay? You
need to make some noise so I can find you. You out there?'' He considered using
the floater's headlights, but it wasn't facing the right way and he couldn't
turn it. ``Say something please. Please?'' Finally she hummed from a little
ahead and below. Feeling ahead with his foot he discovered the ground dropped
off in front of him, he couldn't tell how far. She hummed again, maybe ten feet
away now, and he sat and felt his way down a gentle slope towards the sound. His
eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and he could just make her out, her
white skin reflecting a sliver of moonlight as she lay back, upright against the
side of the small gully they were in, the wall slanted at about a forty-five
degree angle. The rippling sounds of a tiny brook came to him from a little
farther below. He slid the rest of the way down and impulsively put his arms
around her. ``You all right? Are you hurt anywhere?'' She grunted non-committally
and he knew he needed to be a little more specific. He patted her feet, her
shins. ``Does that hurt? That? What about here?'' She responded negatively each
time. He let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Sliding his
hands along her back, he pulled her gently away from the ground to look for
possible scrapes. There didn't seem to be any bad ones in the dim light. He
continued his inventory. ``This hurt?'' He felt her chin, cheeks, forehead. His
head was close to hers. She leaned towards him and nuzzled his neck with the top
of her head. He kissed her cheek, smiling as he asked, ``That hurt?'' She
giggled as she said, ``Hmm-mm.'' She wriggled a little closer to him. He bent
down a little farther and kissed her breast. ``That hurt?'' He let his hands
wander down her body, rubbing her butt, letting his fingers explore her bush,
each finger slipping momentarily inside her like children taking turns peeking
into a wet, warm cave. ``That hurt?'' In response she turned slightly, putting
her manacled hands within reach of his thigh. She stroked it gently with a
fingertip. He licked her neck as he slowly moved to put first one leg between
hers, then the other. As he cupped her butt in his hands she lifted her legs and
drew them tightly around him. He pressed his body against hers, inside her now,
his upper body fully pressed against hers, feeling their hearts alternating
beats, her breasts crushed firmly against his chest. With each thrust against
her she was more firmly cradled in the soft earth of the gully. Not able to kiss
him or hold him in her arms, she expressed herself in the rhythmic tightening of
her legs around him until they shook together in an explosion that seemed no
less atomic than the one that had brought them together. He let them both slide
a little farther down the slope, still coupled with her, until they were on
level ground and, with his arms around her, they slept. * * * He woke first,
feeling the chill, hearing her sleep-breathing next to his ear. Tapping gently
at her shoulder, he whispered, ``Hey. We ought to get back to the floater. It'd
be warmer in there.'' She yawned and stretched, cat-like, her arms straight out
behind her. As he sat up she struggled to do the same, shaking her head at his
offer of help. The moon, nearly down to the horizon now, shone in her face and
he could see the smile as she succeeded in sitting upright next to him. ``It's
funny, I don't even know your name. This isn't something I'm really in the habit
of, you know, sleeping with girls I don't know.'' Her eyes grew wide as she
grunted suddenly, and slid a little ways forward, turning her back towards him.
Somehow he thought he'd offended her, but understood as she reached back and
traced the letter W on his chest. He said it out loud, and she nodded, going on
to trace an E, followed by N, D, Y. ``Wendy? You're Wendy?'' She turned back
towards him and smiled, nodding again. ``So hi, then, Wendy. I'm David. Maybe I
told you that, I don't remember.'' She quirked her eyebrows at him in a gesture
that had a greeting quality to it. ``Let's go back. Here, I'll help.'' He
doubted she could get up out of the gully on her own, as much as she might want
to. He gathered her in his arms and started backing awkwardly up the walls of
the gully. He had to set her down and rest as he got up to level ground, then
started to pick her up again. She shook her head and backed away from him.
``Look, I know you want to make it on your own, but --- I'm sorry, look what
happened the last time. There's less light now than there was then.'' The moon
was nearly down to the horizon by now. She sighed plaintively and continued
shaking her head. He sighed himself. ``Okay, I'll help you stand up, anyway.
Just be sure and follow my path exactly on the way back.'' She nodded, and he
helped her up. He felt his way carefully through the trees, looking back
whenever he could to make sure she was hopping right behind him. He wished, for
several reasons, there was more light, not the least of which was that he wanted
a better view of her breasts and the rest of her naked body as she tried to move
as well as she could in the chains. Ahead, he could just make out the outline of
the floater, no longer putting out any light: after hours of heroic effort, the
last of the available electricity had finally given out, not even able to keep
the dome light glowing. He'd have to start looking for that spare fuel cell in
the morning. The last sliver of moonlight disappeared now, and he had to direct
himself from memory of where the floater had been. He reached behind him and
took her by the elbow. She allowed him to guide her direction, probably
realizing he would have done so even if she could walk. He felt ahead with his
hands and nearly stumbled into the floater anyway. ``I'll get in and move the
seat up. We. . .'' Even though he felt the answer should be obvious, he
hesitated to ask whether she wanted them to sleep together, in the back seat. As
independent as she seemed to be getting, he wasn't sure he wanted to take
anything for granted. He shrugged invisibly and got in to adjust the seat. He
heard a sudden squeak of alarm and jumped as the door slammed closed immediately
afterward. She must have lost her balance and fallen against the door. ``Wendy?
You okay?'' He heard a resigned, muffled ``Mmm-hmm'' from about ground level
outside the floater. He tried to open the door, and it seemed s
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