Runner

by Evie Mitchell

  Audrey seemed to consider this. "Actually, you are correct." She narrowed her gaze on me. "When can I set up interviews with the men?"

  "Huh?"

  She made an impatient wave of her hand. "I need more data. If I have enough data on an individual, I can predict within a two percent margin their behaviours and actions towards certain stimuli. It's been immensely helpful during this period."

  "You could have predicted I'd bake brownies?"

  She shrugged. "Potentially. I had you at five-to-one odds of arriving here tonight. And there is a higher percentage that you wouldn't have left without Ellie. Though I'd argue that you not leaving is more about you deciding to camp here until she either forgives you or you're satisfied we're safe rather than you forcing hr back to your apartment."

  I mean… she's not wrong.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. "I'm not sure I completely understand what's happening right now."

  "Don't worry," a girl said from my side. "We all feel like that when talking to Audrey."

  It wasn't reassuring.

  I looked back at Ellie. "There's a cookout tomorrow night, after the vote. You guys are all invited of course. But… can I take you?"

  Ellie blinked. "Like a date?"

  "Sure."

  The girls around the room immediately tittered. I caught sight of Mouse at the back, she rolled her eyes then immediately buried her head back in the book she was reading.

  Ellie considered me; her arms wrapped around the container.

  "On one condition."

  I gritted my teeth. "Name it."

  "You can't sleep with me."

  Fuck.

  It wasn't that I wanted my dick wet, though I'd fucking love to be balls deep inside Ellie's tight little pussy. No, it was that I wanted to give her the release she so desperately needed.

  It hadn't escaped my notice that she'd come to me with a fuckload of tension and stress written across every line in her body. It also hadn't escaped my notice that I'd managed to erase some of it by taking control, by getting her to submit, by bringing her pleasure.

  Give me enough time and a bed and I can take the rest too.

  "No penetration," I agreed.

  "Thank—"

  "Unless you want it." I interrupted.

  Ellie frowned. "That's not gonna happen."

  "Good, then you shouldn't have an issue with that condition."

  She blew out a breath. " I'll see you tomorrow night."

  "Can't wait."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ellie

  I sipped the craft beer Runner had gotten for me, watching the festivities. He'd disappeared to get us some food and left me sitting by the giant fire pit. Around me, men spoke, toasting their new President, Hazard, and his VP, Chief. They also had a new Enforcer, Nails, so named because apparently, he was sharp as a tack.

  Look, I didn't get the name thing but I went with it.

  The new Prez was drinking slowly, looking a little serious for all the revelry around him. But he accepted congratulations and drink top-ups.

  "He didn't want it," Runner remarked, materializing beside me balancing two plates.

  "Want what?"

  "The position. Didn't wanna be Prez."

  "Why not? Why'd he take it then?"

  "Thinks he'll suck at it, the rest of us don't have any concerns. And you don't turn down that kind of opportunity."

  He handed me a plate piled with food. Smoked ribs, barbequed chicken wings, fresh bread rolls, coupled with a heaping of mac and cheese, some kind of bean mix, a corn cob, and fresh potato salad.

  "Wow, you guys know how to put on a party," I remarked, reaching for the ribs.

  "Thank your friend. Normally it's just meat and whatever the ladies have scraped together. This is the best fucking food we've had since the local pizza place shut down."

  I chuckled, biting into the succulent piece of meat, and groaning as the juicy and smoky flavour burst across my tongue.

  "Yana deserves a medal."

  "No complaining from this side."

  We shared a grin then went back to devouring the delicious feast. Yana was never happier than when she was feeding our motley crew. With the increased food selection, and oh so appreciative diners she was sure to be in seventh heaven.

  "Honestly, this morning it almost felt like the before," Runner commented scooping up a mouthful of the bean salad. "Those pastries were next level."

  I felt a pang in my gut. "Unless we get seeds and start regulating our breeding meat stock, we probably won't be eating like this regularly."

  Runner chewed, considering my comment. "What kind of seeds?"

  I shrugged. "Well for cocoa we'd need plants since the seeds spoil quickly so can't be dried."

  Runner raised his eyebrows in question.

  "Kate," I explained. "She's our botanist and expert on all things plants."

  "And you've spoken about this before?"

  "Chocolate and coffee," I explained, as if that answered everything.

  "You could grow coffee here?"

  "I wish," I shook my head. "It needs a tropical climate. Unless you guys have the power to reproduce one in one of those sheds and maintain that year-round, no."

  "Damn," he licked his fingers. "Guess we need to talk to some brothers down south, set up a trading pipeline."

  "You could do that?"

  "Sure," Runner said, shrugging. "If the government ain't gonna provide for us, and big business has shat itself, our next best option is to do it ourselves."

  "What did you do in the before?" I asked, putting my plate on the ground, and beginning to clean my hands with a napkin.

  "Accountant. I did the books for the club."

  A stuttering laugh exploded from my mouth. I slapped a hand to my lips, horrified. "Sorry!"

  "Eh, don't be." He said, offering me a twisted grin. "I know I don't look like an accountant but fact is, I'm good with numbers."

  I couldn't help but take him in. The lean, muscular body with tattoos that ran down each arm. His strong legs and attractive mouth, his broad chest and mop of unruly hair. Not to mention his filthy mouth and dominating presence in bed.

  Yeah, definitely doesn't look like any accountant I know.

  I would have enjoyed doing my taxes if he'd been sitting across the desk.

  "What do you do now?"

  "Still run the treasury, but now it's more like wrangling timesheets and counting barrels of food trying to find a middle ground than it is balancing spreadsheets."

  "I don't understand."

  He placed his empty plate beside mine then reached for a stick, scratching a two-sided table in the dirt. I could just make it out in the fire light.

  "In the before, the men payed their dues to the club, worked at one of our businesses or substituted either of the first two by doing extra duties, like patrols or running shit from one chapter to another."

  I nodded my understanding.

  "In the after, it ain't that easy. Everyone needs to work together to contribute. So, I divide the tasks. We got some guys who have specialized skills, like Butcher or Ghost. Doctors, farmers, plumbers. Whatever."

  He marked two scratches in the first column. "But the majority of our guys were truck drivers or ran our businesses, so they need to pivot and do other things. To encourage them to do that, I set a quota each month. Something like ten bags of corn picked, or three nights out on patrol." He flashed me a smile, "most of the time, unless we're told by our experts there's a deadline, I don't much care how long it takes them to do their duties. As long as it gets done that's the main thing."

  "And what do they get it they complete this?"

  "Well, nothing if they complete it. But if they don't meet it for any reason other than sickness, which Butcher has to sign off on, then they get additional duties. And the duties are shit. Things like pumping the sewage tanks and driving it out to the old quarry to dump it. Or cleaning the barn, or washing. Shit no one wants."

  "And wh
at if they get it all done? Who does those tasks?

  "Then those jobs go to the prospects."

  Runner gestured towards the front of the compound. "There are a few guys on watch tonight, but most of the guards are prospects. They've gotta prove themselves somehow."

  "Where do they come from?"

  "Some of them were with us from other chapters since the before. You don’t prospect where your family is. We don't do favouritism in the Nameless Souls."

  I nodded, it made sense.

  "But for the rest? Some were here before shit went down. Some came as it happened, others joined in the months since." He shrugged. "We occasionally get a kid who wanders upon us, and we take 'em in. Some stick around. Some leave. Up to them."

  "Don't you worry about them revealing your location?"

  "Sure. But you can't worry about what you can't change. Unless you're planning on moving every few months you gotta stick around, fortify what you own, defend it."

  He looked around then nodded towards a guy with dark brown hair. He stood off to the side of the party, his back to the brick wall of the club house. Half his face remained in shadow as he quietly watched the world party around him.

  "That's Ghost, our Warlord. He's in charge of security. Went to war before this shit went down. Rumour has it some kind of special forces guy. Either way, the man is dead inside. We called him Ghost because he is one. Completely. You'd never see or hear him coming. He wants you dead? You're knocking on the reapers door letting him know it's time."

  I shivered. "So, you're pretty confident you guys can keep this place safe?"

  "Hundred percent."

  I took some comfort in that.

  The music started up again, a cheer rising from those gathered around the fire. One of the older guys came over, sitting beside Runner and making small talk. Runner slung an arm around me, keeping me close as he chatted, shooting the breeze.

  A group of women, some of them I recognized, some I didn't, began to dance at the front of the stage, singing and laughing. Beth joined them, twirling, and singing along.

  This all felt strangely… normal. Despite us living well back at the College, we'd had to live meagre and secretive lives. There had been security shifts every night, chores every day. We'd each had jobs to do and we'd worked to do them. But the fear, anxiety and general sense of exhaustion hadn't left a lot of space for laughter or relaxation. There'd been no singing or dancing. No cookouts or nights like this, with a big bonfire and beer.

  We'd done well, worked hard, kept ourselves safe. But this was a slice of normality. A gift of feeling like we were…

  Home?

  I pushed the thought away, choosing to ignore it for the moment and instead concentrate on the now.

  A prospect brought us another round of beers; Yana produced marshmallows and corn kernels to cook over the fire, the popcorn, and gooey sweets freely shared

  As the night wore on, the crowd became a little rowdier, and kids were whisked off to bed. Couples settled in, a few getting particularly grabby with PDA’s. But I didn't mind. Tonight felt like a reprieve from the humdrum of monotonous survival.

  Runner pulled me in, whispering in my ear, "Pope's gonna make his move."

  I looked to the stage, seeing him eyeing off Beth. She danced at the front, singing along to a punk-rock version of Faith by George Michael. Her cheeks were flushed, and her body moved with the fluidity of a woman who was at least a little tipsy.

  They finished the song and Pope reached down, gesturing for Beth to take his hand, and come on stage. Beth hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing bright red, but she took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. She teetered for a moment but he steadied her, hands settling on her waist.

  I glanced at Jo who stood near me. Her face was frozen, her expression hopeful as she watched her younger sister.

  Beth leaned closer to Pope, whispering something in his ear. He laughed, looked at her serious expression then shrugged. He took the microphone handed it to her then began to strum the hauntingly familiar chords of Hallelujah. The crowd quietened, call eyes going to the stag.

  Beth hesitated for a moment, glancing at the crowd, then she turned her back on us, instead swaying in time to the music.

  "Go Beth,' I whispered, sending her strength.

  Her shoulders drew back then her glorious voice floated out over the speakers.

  Beth swayed, her back still to us as she sang about beauty and moonlight. Around us, the world fell silent, bikers and women listening to the most heartfelt rendition of this song we'd likely ever heard. This was a time where we'd killed people, where we'd been forced to make sacrifices and decisions that allowed us to survive. We'd been cold. We'd been broken. We'd prayed, asking for forgiveness, for guidance, for love. In this moment, the song took on a deeper meaning. And everyone around me could feel it.

  "Hallelujah," Beth sang, her voice soulful, mournful, her essence in every word, every chord, every note.

  Runner's arms wrapped around my middle, pulling me close. Tears soaked my cheeks as Pope played and Beth sang, and the audience listened to a broken woman begging for salvation.

  She ended on a trembling note, a beat of silence following.

  I looked to Jo, finding her and Ruby clutching each other, tears streaming down their faces.

  Applause started slowly, as if we were scared it even that minor vibration would shatter the woman before us. But it swelled, and soon the bikers and women were roaring and stamping our approval.

  Pope broke into a grin, his voice just barely audible through the microphone. "Fucking-A, girl. You can sing."

  Beth turned; her cheeks flushed; eyes bright.

  "More!" I shouted, and the chant was taken up.

  "Choose something up beat this time," Pope said. "My heart can't take another like that."

  Beth bit her lower lip, then bent down again, whispering something once again into Pope's ear. He grinned and began to strum.

  "Time after time?" Ava asked, appearing beside me, a drink in her hand. "Beth needs some new material."

  I laughed, sinking into Runner. "It's a classic."

  "If you say so," she lifted the beer cup to her lips, tilting her head to eye Runner with a sly grin. "You should go dance with the girls, Ellie. Maybe take Runner with you. "

  I shot her a glare but Runner chuckled behind me, his chest rumbling against my back. "Great idea."

  "What?" I barked, surprised.

  He dropped his hands, pulling me onto the dance floor. It was little more than a cleared dirt patch in front of the makeshift stage. A few women were laughing, swaying, and singing to each other. They cleared a space for Runner to pull me close. He fit me into his arms, pressing me close to him swaying us in time to the music.

  "Aren't you afraid of your brothers making fun?" I asked, laughing as he spun me out and then slowly twirled me back into him.

  "Nope, they get it."

  "Get what?"

  "You do what you gotta do for your woman." He dipped me, grinning as he held me suspended for a moment. "And dancing gets you wet."

  "How do you know that?" I asked breathless, my hair flowing down to the ground.

  "I didn't. Do now though." He pulled me back up, setting us back to a steady sway.

  I caught Beth's eye as she sang. She sent me a little wave and a smile as she continued to sing

  Runner pressed his forehead to mine. I got lost in the green of his eyes, the warmth of his hand clasping mine, the press of his chest against me. I wanted to let go, to let him take control, to let him lead me to the same sweet release.

  The song finished and we stepped back to clap, Pope immediately jumping into Bad Moon Rising.

  Runner took my hand, pulling me into him. He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he whispered, "you wanna dance more or get a drink?"

  "I want you to take me to bed," I answered.

  He stiffened, "you sure?"

  I pulled back, arching an eyebrow at him. "You'
re really gonna look a gift horse in the mou—"

  He picked me up, slinging me over his shoulder in a fireman hold and took off towards the barracks.

  I laughed, waving at Ava, Jo and Ruby as we passed.

  "Get it girl!" Ruby yelled, lifting her glass in toast.

  We moved through the crowd and the last thing I heard was Audrey yelling at me to take notes.

  "We want details!"

  "Your friends are nuts," Runner remarked, hurrying through the dark towards his apartment.

  "Says the man who throws me over his shoulder every five minutes." I reached down, patting his ass. "You need to watch it, you'll put your back out. I'm heavy."

  "So, help me God, if you even think about losing one pound, I'll take you over my knee and spank you," he threatened, one hand going up to cup my ass. "I like your curves far too much, Baby Girl."

  Oh, he can have whatever he wants. I mean, maybe not anal. But I'd at least consider it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Runner

  I laid Ellie down on the bed, pausing for a moment to kiss her, then pulled back.

  "Where are you going?" She asked, watching me as I moved to my chest of drawers.

  "Strip, Baby Girl." I pulled a drawer open, digging through the depths to pull a length of rope free. I looped it around my hand, enjoying the feel of the bamboo fibres as it glided across my palm.

  "Ready Runner," my girl said from behind me.

  I grinned, remaining in place. "Get on all fours, head away from me."

  I heard her move, settling on the bed. Her voice held a tremor as she called, "done."

  I turned then, taking a moment to admire the view. When I was out on runs, I occasionally saw women. It'd been less than a year since the world went dark completely, but already there was a sharpness about the women I saw. Their bodies thinner, their faces hollower, a hardness to them that didn't sit right in my gut.

  Ellie was an exception. She was curves and softness, abundance, and happiness. There was nothing I liked better than seeing her body open before me, all pink skin, and soft curves.

  I'm gonna ruin you, Baby Girl.

  I pulled a length of the rope free, reaching for Ellie and pulling her into a sitting position. She still faced away from me and I grinned, enjoying her obedience.