by K. A Knight
We ride into the night for a while, but even with our headlights, it’s hard to traverse the rough ground, so we decide to find a place to crash, not wanting to risk wrecking any of our equipment just for an extra mile or two. After searching the surrounding area and destroyed buildings, we ride for ten more minutes before I notice the shadow of a structure on the horizon. I whistle, and we circle around the abandoned tanks and burnt-out cars. Across what looks to be an old parking lot, which is now covered in sand and skulls, there’s an old sign with paint across it, which reads, The end is nigh. Nice.
When we pull up outside the building, I step off my bike, crossbow in hand, and walk towards the large front doors. The glass is missing, of course, but the building is still standing and appears to be in decent condition, which is rare. Flicking the light of my crossbow on, I raise it and point it at the sign to see the writing.
Student Halls.
Huh, this must have been near a university. I peek inside and shine my light around before rapping on the doors. It’s silent, apart from the bikes humming behind me. I turn when nothing appears and nod. The bikes shut off, and the guys grab our gear. I wait for Jago, and when he’s at my side, he pulls a blade from his sheath, one the size of my forearm, and grabs the handle. I nod, signalling I’m ready, and he yanks it open as I follow him inside. The entrance is covered in sand and debris, and there is another set of doors, this one wooden, with windows next on either side. I open it and Jago slides past me. I trail behind him, my back to his as we move silently across the floor. It’s cleaner in here, not spotless—nowhere is unsoiled in The Wastes—but the sand isn’t as bad. By the looks of it, it’s one large common room. At the back is another doorway with a stairwell on it, and Jago heads that way as I move around the large square space. There is an old desk to the right, long abandoned, and behind it is a tipped over office chair, some scattered papers, and even a half open can of Coke covered in a bloody handprint. I move back, my boots scraping across the floor as I walk to the other side of the room.
The once white walls are now tan, each corner is coated in cobwebs, and there is graffiti covering most of the walls with unreadable text drawn over each other. I can only make out a few names and words apart from one set of large red letters boldly stencilled across them that reads, We are the left behind. Cute.
Jago comes back and blocks off the stairs by pulling an old-style letter rack across it and jamming a piece of metal through the handle. “Just in case.” He shrugs. “But it seems clear.”
I nod and wander over to the last door, which has the wooden plate half hanging off it, declaring it’s ‘Maintenance.’ I try the handle, but it doesn’t budge. With a sigh, I pull back and smash my crossbow down on it repeatedly, the sound echoing loudly. The handle breaks and drops to the ground with a clank. Kicking open the door, I surge in and swing my torch around before grinning. There’s an old fridge and two desks with cameras above it, an ancient filing cupboard, and what seems to be a tea and coffee station with the kettle and mugs still there. Everything is left untouched, forgotten.
Left behind.
There is another door at the back, so I tread over on silent feet and open it, peeking in to see a bathroom complete with toilet, sink, mirror, and a small step-in shower with an old white curtain pulled across it. Nice. Good score for the night.
“Clear!” I call.
I hear the others moving around as I open the drawers and search through them, finding some sweets at the bottom and then glancing at the date. I snort when I see they expired a while ago, but my stomach is used to that by now, so I pop them into my mouth and take the bag with me as I head back, my crossbow slung over my shoulder.
“Block the door,” Jago orders. “One awake at the desk at all times. I want the bikes brought in and stored in the corner.”
“There is a barrel out front, bring it so we can get a fire going, Clay,” I insert, automatically adding to Jago’s command. “Evan, get the food out, we need to eat and bed down. I want to set off before first light.”
They all move away to do as bid. I prop my crossbow up against the wall next to the door and stretch out as the bikes and barrel are brought inside. I unload my sleeping bag and lay it down with the feet to the fire and the head away from the door. I slip a knife under my balled-up jacket I use for a pillow before stripping off my goggles and jacket, and carefully folding and placing them over my bike, ready for tomorrow. I take my boots off next, flipping them over and shaking all the sand out before removing my socks and draping them over my footwear. The floor is clean, and I wouldn’t do this in most places, but there aren’t any glass, needles, or weapons, so I can stretch out and let my feet breathe for now.
Clay gets the fire going quickly and angles it near the beds, his muscles bulging as he effortlessly moves the huge barrel—I’m almost drooling from the show. His mask is still in place, but then his bright eyes flicker up and lock on me, and he winks when he catches me staring. I grin as he slowly pulls his braid around and lets it free as I watch. It’s like hair porn, and only the crack of food opening distracts me.
The others arrange their beds, and we sit on them as we share the canned food and dried meat strips before sipping on the home-brewed vodka from The Ring. It makes Evan cough, and Archel laughs and teases him as I lean back on my elbows, closing my eyes as I absorb the warmth and comfort, the feeling of freedom, of just being with my men with nothing but the road and unexplored land around us.
“You hear me, Brawler?” Jago interrupts.
I tilt my head and open my eyes to see him scooting closer. His arm slips behind me, propping me up as Archel reclines with his head in my lap. “Hmm?” I ask.
“Tomorrow we should cover nearly all the terrain, but I’m not comfortable going in the dark, there are too many places to hide. We were thinking about waiting until the next morning, watching to see the comings and goings before we head in,” he repeats, smiling at me. Those fire eyes shine with the actual fire reflecting in them. His shoulder-length hair is pulled back, framing his thick, handsome face. His shirt is off, and I run my eyes across his impressive shoulders, remembering how it feels when he holds me, pulls me closer, and pins me, like when we used to practice fighting. “Stop ogling, Brawler, unless you plan on following through,” he teases.
Laughing, I pull my gaze from his man boobs and meet his eyes. “Sounds good to me.”
“What does?” he inquires, his eyebrow raised.
“Both.” I wink, stroking my fingers through Archel’s hair as he hums and closes his eyes. Clay frowns and scoots over, knocking Archel away.
“Pascha, will you braid my hair?” he requests, his mask gone, exposing his thick, plump lips. “It is too long for me to reach.”
I want to tease him, knowing he’s lying, but I don’t because it’s an honour, and honestly, I like playing with their hair. Even Evan has started growing his out so I can play with it, plus there’s more to grab onto when you ride them. Am I right, ladies?
Accepting the twine he hands me, I run my fingers through the long, icy blond locks, combing out the knots as he groans and leans into me. I start to plait it down the middle, leaving strands out on the sides—it’s the warrior braid he taught me. It doesn’t take long. I tie off the end, then add his usual beads and feathers to it so he looks like a Viking warrior again, and my pussy pulses in appreciation.
I hear a flick, and a moment later, static flows softly through the room before it switches to a low, soft slow song. I look around and spot Evan playing with a handheld radio. He glances up and smiles at me.
“I found it at the pharmacy, it still works.”
He carefully sets it down, and we all become silent as we listen to the slow notes of the music. It’s an old song—jazz, I think. It’s surprising how much I missed music from Paradise. I can live without TV, but music still has a way of transporting me away, even for a moment.
A hand descends before my eyes, and I follow it up to Archel’s smiling face. I see
the memory of when we last danced in his gaze. Grinning, I let him help me to my feet. His other hand slips down my arm to my hip as I lean into his chest, and we start to sway with the music. The notes take us away from here, just us and the tune. “Want to play our game?” he whispers, and I laugh.
“Can I cut in?” Evan asks, and with a sigh, Archel twirls me into his arms.
He catches me and pulls me closer, so my body is pressed against his, and starts to spin me around the room as he smiles down at me, his lip ring glinting in the firelight. “Hi, Pip.”
“Hi, Evvie.” I grin. “Nice moves.”
“You know it.” He winks, and then a minute later, I’m twirled, and I land against a hard chest with a grunt. Looking up, I meet Clay’s eyes. He glances back at the guys as if he doesn’t understand how to dance before he simply picks me up and starts to move slowly to the beat. My toes don’t even touch the floor as he dances me around, making me laugh until, with a kiss on my head, I’m passed to Jago. He holds me close, pressing his head to mine as he hums along to the music and sways. Our hips are pressed together so tightly, there isn’t even an inch between our bodies.
“I love you, Brawler,” he whispers. “I’m so glad you came into my life and brought me along.”
“I knew it,” I whisper, before leaning up and kissing his lips as we stop. “I love you too, Beast.”
“All right, love birds, let’s bed down for the night. We need some sleep,” Archel calls, and with one last lingering kiss, Jago walks me back to the sleeping bags. They fight over who gets to lie next to me. I ignore the punching and tackling and slip into the bag. A moment later, two bodies join me on either side—Jago on one, Archel on the other.
“Night,” I mumble.
“Good night, Pascha,” Clay calls.
“Night, Pip!” Evan says, taking first watch.
“Good night, Archel. Good night, Jago.” I giggle.
“Stop, or we will be here all night,” Archel grumbles and pulls me closer. “Sleep.”
I let the silence relax me, and not too long after, the snores begin, but I remain in a state of semi-consciousness, trapped between being awake and asleep, and sometime later, I hear shuffling and then quiet footsteps. I open my eyes and see Evan grabbing a candle before heading to the bathroom as he cups the flame. Grinning, I silently slip from my loves’ arms and pad after him—after all, I have a promise to keep. He doesn’t seem to hear me as he moves into the bathroom, gently putting the candle in a holder before stepping back. I kick the door shut behind me, and he turns with a girlie scream before it cuts off, his hand on his chest.
“Jesus, Pip,” he exclaims.
“Gotcha,” I tease, and stride towards him.
“Yeah, you—” I kiss him hard, and his words cut off in a groan. He kisses me back, but I pull away a moment later and drop to my knees. “What the—”
I quickly undo his jeans, shove my hand inside, wrap it around his rapidly hardening cock, and pull it free. I lick my lips at the sight of his piercing and rigid, long length. Meeting his gaze, I flick out my tongue and lick his tip as he watches. He stumbles back into the sink, spreading his hands on either side of him, and grips the dusty porcelain as he shakes his head.
“Piper—”
“A promise is a promise, Evvie,” I murmur as I lick down his cock and back up again, loving the feel of him becoming fully hard in my hand. Laving my tongue up and down his length, I tease him, sucking at the tip as the taste of his salty pre-cum fills my mouth, making me moan and suck him farther in. He groans and moves his hips as he tries to resist me. Fine, he wants to play like that? I swallow him all the way down, my hand curled around the base of his cock, until the tip of his dick hits the back of my throat.
He cries out softly, thrusting deeper before I pull back and suck him down, bobbing on his cock quicker and quicker. His panting is loud in the small space as I clench my thighs together to try and gain some friction on my pulsing, wet pussy.
“Pip, fuck,” he moans, the sound going straight to my already throbbing clit. The suppressed desire, and the need and worship in those two words makes me increase my rhythm as I circle and twist my hand at the bottom. With a groan, he explodes in my mouth. I swallow it, and when he starts to soften, I pull back and lave the tip of his cock, wanting the last of his release before I sit on my heels and wipe my mouth with a finger. His eyes are closed, his mouth is open in pleasure, and his hands are white-knuckling the sink to keep him upright.
Standing, I drag my hand up his body and grip his chin until his eyes open and lock on me. I kiss him softly, licking his lips before I twine my tongue with his.
“Good night, Evvie,” I whisper, just like old times, as he pants against my lips, tasting his release there.
“Good night, Pip,” he responds.
The next morning, I’m on watch, and I wake them up before the sun rises. We have some food and water, and then hit the head and wash as much as we can before we pack up. We work effortlessly as a team until we are dressed, the bikes are outside and ready, and the only proof we were here are the clean marks from our sleeping bags.
I pull down my goggles as I start my engine, and after checking the map, we set off for the day. Like Jago suggested, we decided to camp close to the hospital, which we should reach just before nightfall. This way, we can watch the comings and goings and not stumble around in the dark building and fall through the floors or get ourselves killed.
Jago takes point today, and I stay at the rear, my crossbow mounted and ready. You never know who you’re going to run into, after all. We stay out of the major cannibal and feral areas, avoiding the subway, the old aquarium, and stadium. I see them in the distance, the sun blazing over the horizon as we speed across the sand. We drive hard and fast until Jago gestures, and then we pull into an old parking bay next to what used to be a lake, if the sign is anything to go by. Now, it’s just a dried-up, sand-filled crater. Turning off my engine, I wipe my face and push up my goggles before stripping from my jacket and stretching, ignoring the sweat coating my body as I accept a bottle of water from Archel.
He leans next to me as Jago and Clay check the area, and then Evan gets the food out, and we sit on the ground between our bikes and share it. After we eat, I lean into Archel’s side, eyes closed, just letting his warmth flow through me as I rest.
A noise has me sitting upright and scanning the horizon. The others must not hear it, but my reaction has them grabbing their weapons and looking around.
“What is it, Pasc—”
I put my finger to my lips and strain to hear anything else. I’m just beginning to wonder if I’m going crazy when it comes again.
A cry splits the air.
I leap to my feet and grab my crossbow, and then without waiting, I rush towards it. I slide down the sand dune into the crater and look around. When I spot a large pipe to the right I head in that direction. I hear my guys behind me as I flick on my torch and look inside. The cry comes again, this time alerting me to the fact it’s definitely not human.
Leaning in so I can see better, I scan the edges of the rounded tunnel where the sand hasn’t reached, and the cry comes again as something moves—something I mistook for a sand pile. I feel the guys around me, watching my back.
“Pip,” Evan hisses, “what are you doing?”
“Wait a minute, there’s something here,” I murmur, and being brave, I stretch my hand until I feel something matted but soft, and then I grab it and pull it out into the light. My mouth drops open when I realise the tiny thing in my hand is a puppy, a baby feral. It looks like a cross between a German Shepherd and a Husky, with big brown eyes, a wet nose, two big, droopy ears, and thick fur. Its little cry comes again as it wiggles in my grip, and my heart instantly shatters. I can’t help but pull it against my chest and cuddle it.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay, you’re safe.” I look down, stroking its back as it wiggles to get closer. “Oh my gosh, you are the cutest little thing! Look at your large eyes
and these huge paws for such a tiny baby,” I coo, and when I look around, I see the guys glancing from the puppy to me.
“Oh fuck, I know that look.” Evan groans as he drops his head back. “It’s the same look she got when she adopted me.”
“It’s all alone,” I whine, and Jago snorts.
“It’s probably got a mum around here somewhere.” He gazes around doubtfully, noticing the endless stretch of wasteland on either side of us. “Shit, Brawler, what are we going to do with a puppy?”
I notice the blood and claw marks on the tunnel leading away, and then put two and two together. “I think its mum put it in here while she was hurt.”
“Probably ferals.” Archel sighs. “It is cute.”
“Yes, you are. We can’t leave you here alone, can we, Beast Jr.?” I coo down at it as it yips happily.
“Beast Jr.?” Jago repeats painfully, while Clay laughs and comes over, petting the puppy gently for such a big guy.
“He can be our good luck mascot,” Archel offers.
“Beast Jr., Brawler?” Jago sighs loudly.
I hold it up against my face, both of us staring at him. “He has your eyes,” I reply.
“Dear fucking God,” he snaps. “Fine, keep the puppy, but I’m not cleaning up after the thing.”
I cuddle him closer. “Don’t you listen to Daddy, Beast baby, he’s just mardy unless I’m touching his cock. Yes, he is! Oh yes, he is,” I coo, and they all laugh as we head back to our bikes with the newest member of our crew held safely in my arms, nipping at my fingers.
We tuck Beast Jr. into a shirt and strap it to Jago, who holds him as he drives, even if he does throw me glares. We don’t stop anymore, heading right for the hospital. We find the signs on what used to be the motorway and pull off, driving until the huge building rises out of the sand like a beacon. I stop and look around for a place we can watch from. Archel points at an old store front. The door is covered in sand, but we pull around the side and conceal our bikes as he heads to investigate. When he comes back, he smiles.