Kyle didn’t allow her to halt anything.
Denise possessed a libido that reminded Kyle of an otter. He had seen them on television, and they were playful and lived in wild yet idyllic settings. This whimsical creature was silver, more serpentine, and liked to roll into a tight spiral and unknot itself again. And it liked Kyle. If he reached out to stroke it, the animal would dart up and quiver with joy. It would race around and around him. It emitted a lovely fragrance, slightly salty.
Denise also possessed a lovely body, and Kyle’s mischief with her libido made her eager to be seen, to be touched. Eager to touch and taste.
Suddenly he couldn’t partake of her. What should have been an enjoyable night, on into daylight, was marred by persistent thoughts of Rook. Her image filled his mind, and dim intimations of shame fell like a light rain. Confused, he sent Denise away tearful and disappointed.
He realized his blunder barely in time: she would have full recall. She would think her heat had been her own, wouldn’t comprehend that she’d been coerced. Nevertheless, Kyle’s behavior went far past what it would take to topple him from Shaw’s throne.
She was about to enter the elevator when Kyle used the voice of command. Perhaps he had gotten better with it, or maybe Denise lacked Rook’s strength to resist. He worked it so she would tell everyone he’d shared powerful insights about important things, and she’d believe it although she couldn’t remember what they were.
After that, Kyle tried to keep things a little more low-key, but continued to sharpen his mental weapons. Occasionally a subtle, eerie loneliness reminded him of Rook. He didn’t make any further attempts to bed comely staffers. His life was largely taken up by meetings, which were largely taken up with the prattle of functionaries. He found ways to diminish those he particularly disliked. Sometimes permanently. Most of the longtime clergy, who had known Shaw for many years, became increasingly convinced of Kyle’s channel to the Divine.
They assumed he would give the sermons, but Kyle had neither the ability nor the desire to try. The idea was repugnant. He hadn’t even bothered to plunder Shaw’s vast Biblical knowledge while collecting security codes and business plans from the man’s mind, seeing at the time no practical value. In any case, there was far too much he didn’t know and any weakness in his pulpit performance would amplify his total lack of credentials. Without the sermons there would be no broadcasts, and therefore no money, so he had no peace until he announced that the new preacher would be revealed to him following Shaw’s memorial service.
He already knew who it would be. Declan Spitz was perfect. Politically inept and highly malleable, plus the loyal viewers already knew him. They would accept him, tolerate him, but he would bore them until changing the channel became a matter of survival. Spitz needed a little extra fire to maintain the standard for Ministries broadcasts. Kyle had a plan to address that need. He set up regular private meetings with Spitz, and a few people noticed a difference after the first one.
*** *** ***
Time passed in the bomb shelter. Whether it passed quickly or slowly was impossible to say. The laptop’s battery died almost immediately, leaving the couple without a clock or calendar. Before it stopped working, the display read September 30, and Rook said, “It’s almost my birthday.”
Once Fin knew Bishop was responsible for hiding them here, nothing else was important. They were safe. Celebrating life in the most primal way was their only priority. They did little besides sleep and fuck. Conversation was unnecessary beyond the barest facts: they were alive, together, in love. They hadn’t said the word yet, hadn’t needed to. The omnipresent tingle Fin felt in his mind came from Rook, what else could it be but a manifestation of love? If it wasn’t for their ordeals, their relationship wouldn’t have lasted. While the physical side was spectacular from the start, they were both defensive, prickly. Or they had been. Their new bond had been forged in flame and danger and now they had nearly transcended the need for verbal communication. It was fulfilling and comfortable. From the little they did say out loud, it was apparent they were of one mind. They completed each other.
Fin’s wounds were healing well, his black eyes and bruises all losing their tenderness and exotic coloration. His dreamlife was back to normal. No more creepy spaceships for him, or for Rook, from what she said. Rook removed his forehead stitches with a pair of tiny nail scissors from the shelter’s antique shaving kit. For now his fingers were still buddy-taped.
When it seemed the time was right, Fin did his best to surprise Rook with a birthday party. The guest list was somewhat selective, but all those invited attended. Besides Fin and the unwitting birthday girl, there were Vesuvius and Inflatable Sally. An intimate gathering.
While Rook slept, Fin scrounged quietly about the kitchen. The best he could come up with was pancakes, without syrup. Since they were confined twenty feet underground and at least the food had ‘cake’ as part of its name, Fin thought he was doing pretty well.
The gift was going to be the more difficult thing. Fin considered his options. There was, of course, the purely physical, but they’d been naked the entire time down here, and already explored every play in the book. Didn’t mean they couldn’t repeat themselves, but he wanted something original to mark their first special day together.
So, nothing sexual.
He’d used the limited food supply and his likewise limited culinary skills to produce the ‘cake,’ and didn’t want to push his luck by attempting anything more complicated in the kitchen.
He wanted to pamper her, but all he had was a half-case of Ivory soap and some fossilized Colgate. Long ago he’d finished off what liquor had been stowed under the floor.
What to give his lady love? A gas mask? A box of ammo? Old National Geographics? There was nothing suitable down here. If only he could go outside...
He could write something for her.
That felt perfect. Fin set to work on a song and produced several snippets which, though promising, ultimately led nowhere.
He was running out of time. Rook would wake up soon. Fin’s eyes searched the limited confines of the shelter and came to rest on the ladder.
Outside?
Fin tried to work on the song again, but the ladder kept nagging him. They would have to go out eventually...
They were safe here. Who knew what surprises might be waiting outside? They hadn’t started to grate on each other. Maybe they never would. Would the spell be broken once they left their cocoon? Why let outside forces spoil everything?
No. They were stronger than that. The hum oscillating gently in the back of his mind proved it.
Fin knew they couldn’t hide forever and was suddenly eager to prove how indestructible they were, to vanquish any who dared try to part him from his bride.
He would be careful, of course. No need to walk blindly into an ambush.
Fin hung a wool blanket over the bunk to shade Rook. He had no way of knowing whether it was day or night outside. At the top of the ladder, he unlocked the padlock and eased the hatch open a crack. Nothing. No light poured in, but also no sound. No bullets. No fingers or pry bars. He swung the hatch open and peered out.
Night. Not much moon. The air was chilly, but not cold, and smelled of crisp leaves. So far, so good.
Hoisting himself out, Fin stayed in a crouch and peered around. The woods surrounding him were deserted. There were several lights on inside the big house where his father lived. The shades were drawn, the way Melissa liked.
Not wanting to be away from Rook for more than a minute, Fin crept forward toward the borderline between forest and lawn. Grab something quick and get back. A token.
What would she think if she woke up and he was gone?
He reached out with his unbandaged hand and plucked a fistful of blue asters that somehow escaped the wrath of his stepmother. She couldn’t abide anything ornamental. Perhaps these were technically the neighbor’s flowers. Perhaps technically it was the neighbor’s bomb shelter. In any case, no one h
ad ever challenged his squatter’s rights.
The asters gave off a light floral fragrance as Fin hurried back to his haven. Hopefully Rook wasn’t allergic.
Safely locked inside again, Fin pulled the blanket down and stuck the flowers in a glass of water, then hid them in a cupboard. He lit his Zippo and, lacking candles, stuck it in the middle of the now-cold pancakes before waking Rook.
When her silvery-blue eyes opened, he kissed her and sang ‘Happy Birthday.’ She smiled. He led her to the table where she laughed over her cake for a moment.
She closed her eyes, nodded, silently mouthed something, and blew out the flame. Fin wished along with her, for her wish to come true.
They dug into the cake with their fingers and fed each other. When the plate was clean, Fin told Rook to close her eyes and fetched the flowers. She opened her eyes on cue, and they kept opening wider and wider. They were filled with wonder when they turned to Fin. He nodded.
“You went outside?” She sounded awed and horrified at the same time.
“It’s safe. There’s nothing out there. No one.”
She stared for a few seconds longer, threw her arms around him and pulled him close.
“Thank you!”
“We can leave anytime we want.”
“Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”
Fin kissed her.
She said, “I’ve only just gotten you. I’m not ready to share you.”
“There’s still plenty of powdered eggs...”
“Maybe I’m ready to share you with a grocery store cashier. We could restock...”
Fin laughed and kissed her again.
“Your next birthday will be better than this one.”
“Not possible. Except I’ll have a year with you to look back on.” She paused and grimaced. “If you’re sappy and you know it, clap your hands.”
Fin clapped, and they both tried not to laugh.
“Call it sappy if you want to,” Fin said, “but I feel so bonded. Connected. It’s like I have a sixth sense for you.” He tapped his skull. “I can feel you here.”
She cocked her head and smiled. “It’s amazing you say that. The whole time we’ve been down here my mental antenna has been picking up your signal, and my brain-radio has been tuned to nothing but WFIN.”
“I love you, Rook.”
“I love you, Fin.”
They kissed.
“Let’s get married.”
They kissed for a long time.
“I’ve heard it’s impolite to ask a lady her age...”
“But I’m no lady,” Rook interrupted. “And if, in fact, this is October 3 or later, I’m 22. And you, good sir?”
“Turned 25 the first of June.”
“Wow. You’re old,” she teased.
“But not grown up,” added Vesuvius.
“All right, Mr Feverdream,” said Fin, “how old are you?”
“Age is an arbitrary number.”
*** *** ***
Sitting naked on the third rung of the ladder, Rook studied the hatch above her. Would she ever have the nerve to pass back through it? The real world out there contained Marcus. And Shaw. And Kyle.
Rook felt betrayed by her loins. She was pissed at herself for not being repulsed by Kyle’s advances in the factory. That it was most likely a fear response or a primal drive toward the alpha-male — her rescuer — made it no easier to excuse. Rook knew Kyle was bad news, and she’d had enough of that shit from Marcus. Bad news was bad news. Still there was the nagging guilt. She should have done more to fend him off. Or, since he had a gun, at least not gotten all wet in the panties.
Whenever she thought about it she experienced the same illicit thrill, compounding the guilt, and she thought about it a lot since Fin went outside. Knowing they could leave the shelter put a fine point on whether they ought to.
If she could avoid Marcus long enough, he would find a replacement for her. He’d had no qualms about falling into other girls’ crotches while they were together. Only a matter of time before one of the infamous ‘deer women’ turned his head again, and this time Rook wouldn’t be there scowling at him. One female or other was bound to spark an obsession.
Reverend Shaw represented a nebulous evil. Obviously trouble, but what sort? Would he still be interested in them? He lay too far out of their scope of understanding to speculate about. There was simply no base-line with which to make comparisons. Rook decided not to publish anything about her encounter with him and hope for the best.
As she saw it, Kyle presented the most compelling reason for staying hidden. He was somewhat outside of their knowledge base as well, but had a personal connection. That made him more dangerous. Whereas Shaw could easily forget about them in the aftermath of the chaotic evacuation of the factory, Kyle might hold a grudge. The unknown side of him was much more terrifying, because it didn’t fit with what Fin knew about his brother. There was no way of knowing how deep his evil might go.
Their escape from the factory was confused and confusing, so perhaps Kyle would have more pressing things demanding his attention now. Like that whole ‘top of the food chain’ thing he’d tried to tempt her with. A nice, perplexing offer to make to a girl you’ve just met.
He probably wasn’t really interested in her, just wanted to get a dig in at Fin, to screw things up between them. Sometime in the future he’d show up and mention the time they kissed, just to be a jerk. Only that didn’t follow, since he’d had a gun pointed at her.
Fin snored and rolled over, causing a guilty jump in Rook’s pulse and a mild fluctuation in his slumbering mental vibration. She climbed stiffly down from the ladder and rolled her neck and shoulders while considering why she felt so guilty.
Meticulous review of the time she’d spent with Kyle confirmed she’d done nothing to lead him on. Therefore she had nothing to feel guilty about. Except, of course, all this obsessing.
Was she getting herself worked up over nothing? She probably wasn’t even on Kyle’s radar anymore. Except she knew she was. Which said something unflattering about her ego. She didn’t want him to want her, did she?
Maybe a little.
And why would that be?
She and Fin were making plans for the future, so naturally the twisted, wrong half of her psyche looked for a way to screw it up. Her mother was the perfect role model for screwing things up.
What wouldn’t Mom do?
Mom would never work to keep a relationship healthy. She would never confess. So, since Mom wouldn’t, Rook would.
She would tell Fin that Kyle kissed her and for some inexplicable reason she didn’t resist. She would trust him to understand. She had to tell him now, while they were in the protected environment of the bomb shelter. They couldn’t leave until she was sure they were ready. Until they were strong enough again to withstand whatever the sun would expose.
Rook climbed into the bunk with Fin and spooned against his warmth. It wasn’t often that she got to study his back and the odd tattoo he had there, a sort of yin-yang take on Janus, the two-faced Roman god of choices. Nicely rendered though they were, Rook found the twin visages a bit disturbing. They were part of Fin though, so she tried to make her peace with them. Before falling back to sleep she gave each of the stern faces a kiss.
***
Fin narrated his version of the events following her kidnapping with dramatic flair, doing much more than merely connecting the dots of what she’d already learned. He told the story as if it were a movie he’d seen, not something he’d experienced, and Rook’s mind formed hyper-real images of the action in glorious wide-screen Technicolor. The security imparted by their surroundings and Fin’s reassuring signal in her mind made everything else unreal. All the movie lacked was a satisfying ending, since the last thing Fin could recall before waking up in the shelter was meeting Shaw and a smothering sensation in his mind.
“It smacks of Deus ex Machina” said Rook. “Let me fill in some of the gaps.”
Her own narration went as
smoothly as Fin’s until she had to explain how she’d escaped. They were lounging together on their bunk, her head on his stomach, gazing up into his reassuring green eyes. She fought the impulse to move away and adopt a more formal tone. Fin felt her tense and stroked her hair.
He had no idea what was coming.
“I was sitting in the crate, feeling sorry for myself, and then there were these horrible subsonics. It went on for I don’t know how long, then the door opened and everything got better. Except it was Kyle who’d let me out. He wanted me to go with him. I kneed him and ran to the other crate and opened it. Imagine my surprise when Marcus stepped out.”
Fin chuckled without humor.
Now the damning part. Rook took a deep breath. She’d already told him about the kiss Kyle gave her when they reached the factory, and how she’d bitten him. Fin had looked angry at first, then joked, “I thought that was our thing.”
“With Kyle I meant it,” Rook assured.
With this second kiss there was no heroic defiance on her part, unless she wanted to invent it. This time the hero mantle belonged to Marcus.
Fin waited for her to continue. Even when she opened her mouth, Rook wasn’t sure which version of events she would tell.
“Kyle grabbed me. The door hadn’t opened far. It was heavy, and I didn’t have time to open it all the way.” Rook made herself stop stalling. “Kyle grabbed me and held his gun here,” Rook cocked her fingers like a gun and pointed to the hollow under her jaw. She felt Fin tense and his signal got louder in her head. She kept her eyes on his. “And he kissed me.”
Fin’s eyes were distant and angry, but the anger wasn’t directed at her. Yet.
“Then he stepped back and pointed it at my forehead,” she gestured again, breaking eye contact. “He stepped up, without the gun on me, and kissed me again. I didn’t resist.”
Miss Brandymoon's Device: a novel of sex, nanotech, and a sentient lava lamp (Divided Man Book 1) Page 18