Emma and I retraced our steps with the men close behind.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You said you were just passing through,” Shotgun said. “We’re taking you to the city limit. On the other side of town.”
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically.
“Don’t mention it.”
I said, “You could face kidnapping charges for this. You know that? You’re holding us against our will.”
“Please,” Shotgun said dismissively. “The mayor declared martial law shortly after the bomb hit. We could kill you right here if we wanted to and the town would throw us a parade.”
I said nothing. We walked in silence for a while. I heard a couple of the men whispering behind me. Something to the effect of, ‘Did you see the tits on that girl?’
As we approached the city limit, I saw a different group of men standing guard. The four men watched as we approached.
“What’s going on?” one of them shouted.
“Scavengers,” Shotgun replied. He added, “Snuck around our post on the other side.”
We stopped as we reached the men. Shotgun pointed down the road and said, “That’s where you’re going, pal. Hit the road and don’t look back.”
I felt someone behind me snip the zip-tie, then they cut Emma loose. I rubbed my wrists.
Shotgun said, “If we see you here again, we have orders to shoot. Is that clear?”
“Got it.” I held out a hand. “My bag.”
“You’ll get it after this is over. Same with the weapons. Come back to city hall after martial law has been lifted and fill out a request. Make sure you bring some ID. In the meantime, your property will be tagged and put into storage.” He pulled a handful of tags from his pocket and clicked a pen. “Name?”
I said, “You’ve got to be kidding. That bag has critical survival gear in it. We won’t last a day out here without it.”
Shotgun shook his head. “Sorry. You should have thought about that before you snuck in here. Listen, have you noticed how well we’ve been holding up? How we’ve got food and water? That’s no accident. We learned the hard way during the EMP attack. You’ve got to take care of your own and keep out the riff raff.”
“Look,” I said, “I’m going to ask you one more time. Please give me my things back.”
“Steen,” Emma pleaded. “Just let it go.”
“Sorry,” said Shotgun.
I glared at him. His eyes hardened.
I felt the blood pounding in my ears. Heard it. Everything slowed down. Off in the distance I heard Emma say my name. There was a man standing next to Shotgun with a large revolver in his hand. As I continued the staring contest with Shotgun, I pinpointed the pistol’s location with my peripheral vision. Without warning, I lunged at the man and stripped the gun from his hand. I grabbed Shotgun’s arm and spun him around and put him in a headlock. I held the revolver tightly to his head. “Drop it!” I shouted.
The shotgun clattered to the pavement.
“Steen!” Emma screamed.
Russ aimed his deer rifle at Emma’s head and said, “Shoot him and I’ll shoot her!” His voice wavered.
I stared at Russ. “Do it. She means nothing to me.”
Emma screamed again.
“That’s his daughter,” Shotgun croaked.
I tightened my grip around Shotgun’s neck. “Shut up, you fuck! She’s not my daughter.” I regarded the revolver in my hand. Blued steel, wood grip, six inch barrel, Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum. I pulled the hammer back on the big gun and ground the barrel into his temple.
“Alright, alright!” Shotgun gasped. “Give him his stuff back! Give it back!”
The man holding my backpack tossed it at my feet.
“The pocket pistol, too,” I said. “And don’t throw it.”
Another man produced the pistol and set it next to my bag.
“Get on your knees,” I growled. Shotgun sank to his knees and I repositioned the revolver on top of his head.
“I’ll kill her,” Russ insisted.
I reached down with my other hand and picked up the pocket pistol. Keeping the .44 Magnum pressed to the top of Shotgun’s head, I pointed the little pistol at Russ. “Do it,” I said, “and it will be the last thing you ever do.”
Russ blinked. A street-hardened thug he was not. The look on his face said this wasn’t worth it. He swallowed hard and lowered the rifle.
I said, “All of you, set your weapons on the ground or I blow his fucking brains out, right here, right now, right in front of you. I swear to God I’ll do it.”
One by one the men set their weapons on the ground. Emma ran to me and started crying.
I said, “Round up their weapons.”
She did as I asked, visibly shaken.
“Hey—” Shotgun started.
I nearly pressed the barrel into his skull. “Shut up, you mother fucker! Shut up! Shut up! You’ll get them back. That’s more than you were willing to do for me.”
“I said—” Shotgun started again.
I growled, “Guns later aren’t worth dick, fuckhead. What good is getting your gun back after you’re already dead?”
He didn’t answer.
I removed the gun from Shotgun’s head and took a step back. “We’re going to leave your little town just like you asked. We’re going to walk down the road and set your weapons down. When you see us do that, walk, do not run, to come get them. Anyone takes a shot at us after you get your guns back, dies. Are we clear?”
Grumbles, but no dissenters.
Emma and I split the guns between us and we started walking.
After a bit, Emma said, “You son of a bitch.” She gave me a frosty look that could cut ice. “You told them to shoot me.”
“They weren’t going to shoot you,” I said. “Or me either, for that matter. That’s what you do. You call their bluff. He was not going to kill you. He didn’t have it in him. I could see it in his eyes.”
“Hmmmf! Well, I’m glad you’re so sure of yourself. I could be dead right now.”
“Emma? Emma!”
She stared straight ahead.
I glanced over my shoulder. The men were milling around, some watched with their hands on their hips.
A while later Emma said, “These are getting heavy.”
I shot another glance over my shoulder. We had put close to a quarter mile behind us. “Okay,” I said. “This is far enough. We can leave them here.”
We dumped the guns on the ground, then one by one I began unloading them.
“What are you doing?” Emma asked.
“Making it harder for them to shoot us.”
I dumped the ammunition another 50 yards down the road. The men were coming our way. I retrieved my rifle from my bag and reassembled it.
Emma shot several nervous glances over her shoulder. “Steen, what if they start shooting at us? Do you think they will?”
“Emma, you just watched me single-handedly disarm eleven men. Trust me.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she looked nervously over her shoulder again.
I fished Emma’s gun out of the bag and handed it to her. “Here, maybe this will make you feel better. If they start shooting, drop to the ground and shoot back. Okay?” I thought maybe a little self-empowerment might make her feel better. It didn’t. She stuck the pistol in her shorts and began walking even faster.
Eventually we reached the moment of truth. I saw a couple of the men stoop to pick up their weapons.
Emma saw it too. Her hands started shaking. “Steen, they found their guns! Oh God, they found their guns!”
Chapter 29
I studied Emma. “Will you relax?” I said. I put a hand on her shoulder. “At this distance they’d have to be crackerjack shots to hit us. Plus, it’s almost dark.”
Emma looked worried.
I said, “They haven’t even found their ammunition yet. And once they do,
they have to sort it all out. Plus half of them had shotguns. Shotguns are no good at this distance. We’re safe, Emma. Don’t worry.”
She seemed to relax a little, though we continued walking at a stiff pace. Eventually the men dropped out of sight.
The landscape was pretty barren. After a bit I spotted a gas station up ahead. I figured it would have to do for the night. We traversed the parking lot and made our way to the door.
“All the glass is broken,” Emma observed.
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be like we’re sleeping outside.”
I readied the rifle. The door was locked so I stooped and went through a broken window. Emma followed. Inside it smelled like spoiled milk. Shattered glass crunched under our feet. The shelves had been picked clean. I used the rifle light to check the place out.
Emma asked, “Steen, where are we going to sleep? There’s glass all over the floor.”
“Hang on a second, I’m going to check the backroom.”
I tried the door but it was locked. “Well,” I said. “This is it. We’ll just stay out here.” I toed glass with my boot.
Emma said, “I don’t know about this.”
Despite her objections, Emma helped me clear a spot large enough for us to lie down. We sat on the floor and a moment later I heard thunder. “Great,” Emma said, “Now it’s going to rain.”
Despite the fact that night had fallen, it was still hot outside. Emma and I used our shoes for pillows. We lied side by side on the floor and stared at the ceiling.
Emma said, “This sucks. I don’t think I can sleep like this.”
There was a flash of lightning and then a loud clap of thunder.
I said, “Let’s be thankful we have a roof over our heads. The rain will help cool things off.”
Emma didn’t respond.
I thought about what I’d just said. Had I become a narrator of the obvious? I’d always had trouble talking to women. Talking about anything meaningful, that is. It was funny. I generally got along great with men. But with women, it was different. I sometimes sensed they felt something was missing. Men are fine keeping the conversation light and on the surface. In fact, most men prefer it. Men get uncomfortable if the conversation steers into anything personal. We’re hopelessly homophobic and subconsciously I guess we equate any form of emotional intimacy with physical intimacy. Women, on the other hand, crave emotional intimacy. If their man is unwilling or unable to fulfill their need for emotional intimacy, they will get it someplace else. It might be with a friend, a romance novel, or in the arms of another man. Emotional intimacy to women is what sex is to men. It’s a need, not a want, and it’s going to happen one way or another.
As the rain began to fall, I went with my old standby. I asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Shhh, you’re ruining the mood,” she replied.
“What?”
It was then that I realized her arm was moving. She was masturbating. While I had been off in my own little world pontificating the differences between men and woman, Emma had slipped a hand in her panties.
I said, “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
“Yes. Now be quiet, please.” She grunted as she rubbed, redoubling her efforts. “Oh, yeah. Fuck yeah, that’s it. Oh, that feels good.” She turned to me. “I can’t sleep until I rub one out.”
“You’re incredible,” I said. I shook my head. I reached over and cupped a breast.
She shooed my hand away. “Don’t, you’ll mess me up. I need to concentrate.”
“Okay.” Duly admonished, I sat back and enjoyed the show. I couldn’t really see anything, but it was erotic nonetheless. I swelled down below and I began to wonder how I was going to get to sleep.
“Oh yes,” Emma whispered. “Yes. Fuck, my pussy is on fire.” She rubbed even harder and let out a long moan. “Oh, yes! Ah, I’m cumming. I’m going to cum! I’m cumming! Aaaaaaaaaah!”
She moaned throughout her orgasm, then panted for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath. She held herself down there for a minute, then she quietly she folded her hands on her stomach. Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. She grinned and said, “Good night.”
I cleared my throat. “You feel better?”
“Yes. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I felt a little left out. What a contrast to the night before. I wondered if she was still mad about the whole ‘go ahead and shoot her’ thing? Who knows? A familiar feeling washed over me. The feeling that I would never understand women. Never ever, not as long as I lived. My erection quickly faded and I succumbed to exhaustion. I listened to the steady drumbeat of the rain on the roof and moments later I was fast asleep.
***
The next morning I again awoke before Emma. She was sleeping on her side facing away from me, her head resting on her shoe. I put my boots on and quietly stepped outside for a minute. When I came back, Emma was awake. She rubbed her eyes and said, “Hey.”
I said, “Good morning.”
“Where’d you go?”
“To take a—” I hooked a thumb. “I had to use the men’s room.”
“Oh. You can say ‘take a piss’ around me. I’m not some dainty little lady, you know.”
“Uh…yeah. I know. Okay.”
She smiled. “Is there a little girl’s room out there, too?”
“Yes, I think so.”
She put on her shoes and got to her feet. “Oh man. I am stiff.” She rubbed her butt and stretched.
“Yeah, sleeping on the floor takes a little getting used to.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” She stepped through the broken window and disappeared around a corner. A moment later I heard a scream. I grabbed my rifle and ran outside. Emma held her shorts in her hand and was naked from the waist down. She grabbed me.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a snake! I saw a snake!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” she screamed. “It rattled at me!”
I asked, “Where?”
She pointed. “Over there.”
Cautiously, I made my way over to have a look. All of the sudden I heard a dry rattle. Coiled up in the weeds was a big, thick rattlesnake. It had to be at least five feet long. It looked angry and ready to strike. Its tail rattled rapidly. I debated whether to kill it or just let it be. I looked at Emma. She squatted down. “Sorry,” she said. “I still had to go.”
I refocused my attention on the snake. I decided to kill it. I aimed and fired. Emma screamed. It was a direct hit; hard to miss from ten feet away. I went back inside. Emma was drip-drying as I stepped around the puddle she’d made.
Inside I traded the rifle for my knife. I retraced my steps and proceeded to prepare the snake for breakfast. I cut off its head, gutted it and skinned it. I carved a point on a stick and threaded the thick white flesh in a zigzag pattern.
The wood outside was too wet to start a fire. Back inside, I used the hatchet to demolish a section of the wood counter. I ripped up cardboard boxes for kindling and a short time later Emma and I were dining on grilled rattlesnake. Emma was a little unsure at first, but after taking a bite she said, “This isn’t half bad.”
“See, we’re survivalists,” I said. I took a bite of the tough meat and chewed.
“It could use a little salt.”
I nodded.
I felt the snake was safe to eat. We were close to 50 miles from ground zero and although the area had surely received some fallout, the radiation should have diminished to a relatively safe level by now.
When we’d finished eating, Emma stood and held out her arms. I stood and Emma gave me a hug. She said, “I feel so much better now, thank you.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for saving me from the snake. Thank you for cooking him for our breakfast. Thank you for saving me from those men yesterday. Thank you, thank you, thank
you.” She hugged me again and kissed me on the lips.
I smiled as my hand fell to her bottom. I patted her behind and said, “You’re welcome.”
She pulled me close and kissed me again. She whispered, “Let me thank you a different way.” She smiled as she ran a finger down my chest and continued south. She cupped my crotch just as she’d done when we first met. I was already hard from kissing her, and probably some from the night before. She dropped to her knees and unzipped my fly. She pulled my cock out and licked up and down its length. Then her tongue did a couple of laps around the head before taking it in her mouth. Her head began bobbing up and down in that familiar rhythm and I knew this wasn’t going to take long.
As I was enjoying this, I became aware of the public nature of our tryst. I thought about moving it inside, but I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Emma seemed to be especially attuned to her moods. She was really going to town on me at this point and I didn’t want her to stop.
About that time Murphy reared its ugly head and something just had to spoil it. I spotted a man on the road coming our way. Perfect. Just perfect. He was wearing camouflage and a backpack and held a long gun.
Emma pulled off of me and gasped, “God, I love your dick. It so fucking big! I can barely get my mouth around it.” She slurped me back in again.
I said, “Um, Emma? Somebody’s coming.”
She stopped again and said, “Good baby, cum. Shoot your big load down my throat again.”
I debated. Should I stop her or just let it go on? I thought for a minute, then I evaluated my progress. On a scale of 1 to 10 I was maybe at an 8. Sometimes I get stuck around 9 for some reason. In debating what to do, I realized I’d lost my focus. I reevaluated. Damn, now I was back to a 7 again. This wasn’t going to work.
“Emma,” I said as I pulled back. “There’s a man coming down the road and I think he can see us.”
Chapter 30
Emma wiped her mouth as she stood and took a look around. Meanwhile I was busy stuffing myself back in my pants. This was embarrassing. I definitely do not have an exhibitionist streak in me.
How to Survive a Nuclear War Page 16