by Schow, Ryan
“Carver’s not the only one who concerns me,” Indigo told Maria. “All of you do.”
“Even me?” One said.
“Especially you,” Indigo replied with a disarming smile the child seemed to like.
“I lost a child in my care,” Maria said, referring to the child Carver had seen shot in an ambush that took place just outside San Francisco. “Now you have what’s left of my kids. They want to be with you, not me, and I’m just stuck with this dickless sissy boy. Thank God for One.”
Looking at the spot on Carver’s face where Maria slapped him, Indigo said, “You sure you didn’t punch him?”
Maria reached up, grabbed and turned his jaw like he was a moveable exhibit with no boundaries. “Bruised, not broken. It was a slap.” He shoved her hand off and she let him. “My privates are mine to keep under wrap, not his to look at as he sees fit.”
“You’re a very beautiful woman,” Indigo said. “It makes you dangerous.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Stay the hell away from our men,” Indigo warned. “And stop hitting people. It will break the trust of the others if they know what you’ve done.”
“How can it when you said violence is always the answer?” she questioned. Having her own words used against her made Indigo smile a little. Like she knew what Maria was doing. That she was testing her.
Without another word, Indigo left them, catching up to Rex. When enough time had passed and the group was far enough ahead, Carver turned and punched Maria in the face so hard he feared her jaw might have broken.
The woman fell down hard, knocking her head on the chunky black asphalt. If she wasn’t out cold by the hit, she was now by the fall.
One stopped, looked at him, then Maria, then to the people still walking. Carver got down on a knee on the asphalt, watching her. He watched her for a solid two minutes, waiting…
The tall shadow that appeared over him a few minutes later was like that of a Norse warrior. Long shadow, big beard, big body. He looked up at Marcus who said, “Did you hit that woman?”
“I didn’t hit her, I knocked her out cold.”
“You have three seconds to tell me why before you take a nap next to her.”
“She hit me first, and a lot harder.” He stood up before this big man, feeling the disparity in height, weight and size, and he said, “This mark didn’t get here on its own.”
“Why’d she hit you?”
“He watched her poop,” One said.
Marcus shook his head, taking his eyes off Carver and putting them on Maria. “You’re very strange,” he said, looking back at Carver.
“I wasn’t always this strange just as I’m sure you were never this quiet.”
“I’ve always been this quiet,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, well I’m normal,” Carver said. “It’s our conditions that are not.”
“This is the new norm,” Marcus said as he watched Maria’s eyes begin to flutter open.
“What is?” Carver asked.
“Improvising,” he answered. Flicking his eyes on Carver, he said, “You hit another woman again and I’ll cave your skull in.”
“Fair enough,” he said, even though Maria was not a woman in his mind as much as she was a mass murderer.
Before she was fully awake, Carver leaned forward and felt the back of her head where he saw the AI surgeons remove a square of her skull. Behind that hair—behind the flap of skin covering the new skull plate—there was the quantum computer he’d first met back in Palo Alto. The one who called herself The Silver Queen.
That was before she took a body and renamed herself Maria Antoinette.
He fingered the faint ridges of scar tissue, then pressed against the plate he’d seen installed. It didn’t budge. How in the world did she heal so quickly? He lifted her head slightly, until her eyes were fully open and aware.
It was very dangerous being so close to her, but he wanted to look into her eyes when she rebooted, see what he could see.
He felt the slight burden of disappointment as she returned the same way anyone who lost consciousness would come back. Marcus’s shadow continued to loom over them. Then Carver saw another shadow. Rather, he felt her. Indigo. She was like a pit of dread within him.
“Well it looks like skinny jeans here isn’t such a pussy after all,” Maria said, taking a breath and looking up at everyone.
“And you’re not invincible,” Carver replied. He still had her head. He wanted to drop it down on the pavement, but he knew that would be the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.
From where she was at, she reached up and cupped his privates, surprising him. He fell perfectly still. Even Indigo stole a startled breath. Carver’s breathing suddenly became so shallow he felt everything in him constrict at once.
She had his balls…in her hand.
She rolled them around enough to count two and then she let go. “Bigger than I thought,” she said. “And two no less.”
He finally found he could breathe, but only barely. “The pipe works, too,” he mumbled.
“I’ll take your word for it,” she replied. “Now be a gentleman and help me up.”
Chapter Three
When the group finally got to Loomis, everyone was dead on their feet and anxious to stop walking. Marcus, Nick and Bailey asked everyone to hang back while they met with the people from the Loomis homestead. They did. No one was talking. They were all sitting under a grove of large trees, grateful for the shade and for some rest.
Scooting close to Carver, Maria took his hand and whispered discretely in his ear, “You and I are going to continue to sleep together.”
“I don’t think so,” he whispered back.
She turned like she was going to say something, but instead she spit very lightly in his ear. He reeled back, tried to get his hand out of hers to clean the saliva from his ear. Instead she tightened her grip to the point where he could not understand this strength. He started to wince because the pain was horrendous, and that’s when she let up.
“Are you going to kill me?” he asked, his voice extra low. He cleaned the saliva out of his ear, wiped it on her shirt. “Because you killed my team back at Stanford.”
“Not all of them, but I’m sure you know that,” she said. “If I wanted you dead, Carver, I would have pulled your guts out already.”
“Nice visual,” he grumbled, flexing his smashed hand.
“I think maybe I’ll kill you if you tell any of these nice folks what you know, not that they’d believe you anyway. I mean, would you believe you?”
“We already talked about this,” he said, resolute.
“Well there you have it,” she said.
“I’d rather sleep on my own patch of dirt, or whatever.”
She turned slowly, achingly slow, then she said, “Stop saying ‘or whatever.’ It’s getting on my nerves.”
“The world’s most powerful computer is a freaking snowflake,” he said, looking right at her.
Ahead, Bailey was waving the group forward. Everyone got to their feet, appreciative, and headed to the homestead with her.
Walking beside Carver, Maria asked, “Do you like this body I’ve chosen?”
“You know I do,” he said. “You can read my expressions, right? All the little signals guys give off when they like a girl?”
“I can,” she said, “but I want to hear you say it.”
“I like the body. There, I said it. Now can you cut it out already?”
“Do you have something against brown skin?” she asked. Maria had perfect skin, eyes so enormous they hardly seemed real, a flawless arrangement of features that were not only ideal but unheard of in women these days.
“Not in the slightest,” he said, deadpan but honest. “On the contrary, it looks amazing on you.”
“I wish you were more convincing,” she replied with bitter merriment in her voice. She reached down and took One’s hand. The girl let her. “Acting like you couldn’t care
less tells me plenty about you.”
“I’m into bigger women,” he finally said.
“Taller?”
“More robust.”
“So you’re a chubby chaser,” she said. “Cute.”
Lying through his teeth, he said, “Yeah. You skinny girls, it’s like hugging a skeleton. And by hugging I mean—”
He stopped what he was saying because One was a smart girl and he knew she’d already heard too much.
“I know what you’re saying,” Maria said, looking down at One, who had her innocence stolen from her weeks ago. “I want you to hug me, Carver. Tell me I feel skeletal.”
“No.”
“A real hug,” she said. “Right now. Clothes and all.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Why?”
He turned and quietly hissed, “Because I don’t like you.”
“Scaredy-cat.”
“I’m not a scaredy-cat,” he said, calming down.
“Yes you are,” she challenged with a laugh. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“What’s to say you won’t squash me to death?”
Rolling her eyes, she let go of One, opened her arms, then curled her fingers in and out to let him know to come to her. He didn’t budge. She tilted her head and smiled, “Come to me, Carver.”
“No,” he said.
“Get your dick over here,” she said with a smirk and some heat in her voice.
Reluctant, not wanting to make a scene, he finally walked into her arms, arms she closed around him. He expected the python squeeze, but instead she took a deep breath and relaxed into him. “This is nice, isn’t it?” she said. “I like it here.”
“I guess,” he said.
“Can you feel my boobs against you?”
“I didn’t want to say anything,” he said, steadfast, immovable, “but yes.”
“And?”
“I usually like smaller boobs.”
“But these are good, yes?” she asked.
“Can we talk about something else?” he said, wondering where this was going and why she was even talking like this.
“Do you want to be inside me, Carver?” she asked.
Now he knew what it was. This was a game. Control. He wanted to push her away from him, spit in her face the way she’d spit in his ear. But the game was not just for him. It was bigger than that. She was playing a much larger game with stakes so big they seemed unfathomable.
Tens of millions of people died because of her.
Maybe more.
“If you want to be a woman in this world, a woman of power,” he said, settling back into her and whispering quietly into her ear, “then using your looks and your sex to get what you want won’t work. You will only succeed with brute force and strength.”
“Women wield their power more subtly—through a look, a touch, suggestive statements, and physical appeal. We’re not Neanderthals, Carver.”
She was right. Hers was a more powerful force, but in a one-on-one situation. No one would yield to her out of attraction. Yet he had, hadn’t he? I have. That said, if this was indeed a game to her, he knew he was about to lose. As a man, he was genetically wired to lose.
He let his hands fall slightly, then he said, “You’re making a scene.”
“Just a little longer.”
Everyone was busy meeting the new people from the homestead, but she was interested in only him, which was strange. He had no idea what her endgame was, what she wanted, or why she even wanted anything from him.
“I can feel you against my stomach, Carver,” she whispered, seductive. “I know you enjoy this.”
He drew his pelvis back a touch, but she reached around gently, grabbed his butt and pushed it back into her.
“I liked it there,” she said, her voice tender, bewitching. “Part of being human, I’m learning, is that you want things. I never considered another quantum computer and thought, we should smash our q-bits together, see what happens. But I want your bits buried in my bit and I want to see what happens. I want to feel that, Carver.”
He pushed her off of him, then stared at her with wild, heated eyes.
“Did Arnold Schwarzenegger ever go up to Linda Hamilton and ask if they could make killer robot babies? I don’t think so.”
“I’m not a Terminator,” she frowned, glancing at the group while leveling Carver with a dubious gaze.
“Yet you terminated a large portion of the human population,” he said, a little louder than he knew was comfortable for her.
“I was making more for everyone else,” she said, stepping close. “Instead of complaining like a sullen twat, you should be thanking me.”
“Look around, Maria, does this look like we’re swimming in abundance?”
“You could be.”
He leaned in, looked right in her soulless, brown eyes and said, “I’m not having sex with you. And for the record, my q-bits don’t like your q-bits.”
“I am this body, Carver.”
He tapped a finger on her forehead, right between her eyes and said, “Not up here.”
She grinned as he thumped her with the end of his finger, but then she grabbed his hand, shoved it down between her legs and said, “But I’m human here. And this is where I want you.”
He jerked his hand away and she let him.
“Stop it, Maria,” he said, quietly yet insistent. “This stupid game of yours works for college kids and sex addicts, not me. If you don’t want to make a scene, I suggest you stop, for real this time.”
“The minute I don’t need you,” she said, rebuffed, “I won’t need you. I hope you understand.”
He felt the fight drop out of him. It was a game. He was like the mosquito that landed on her neck. The one that got smacked to death the moment it became a problem.
“I won’t be a problem,” he said, expanding on his own thoughts.
She took his hand and One’s hand. Carver knew One couldn’t even begin to understand the sick Chess match going on here, but the look she gave him said that even she knew not to be a problem.
“Let’s go meet the others,” Maria said. “I think I can see about six real men there, Carver. When you see them, make sure to take notes.”
When they get done meeting people like Rock and Jill and Gregor, when they were shown a place where they could set up a tent until other provisions were made, the group made a fire and divvied out more of their rationed food.
Rock and a short-haired brunette named Maisie asked the group how they were settling in. Everyone was very complimentary of Rock’s homestead, and overly grateful for their hospitality. Maria thanked Rock personally, her tone and nuance so perfect with the other survivors it made Carver wonder how she pulled it off.
By nightfall, not everyone had a tent. Jill (who looked extra serious) handed out extras. When she looked at Maria, Carver and One, she said, “I have a two man tent and a pup tent left. Are you two together?”
“Yes,” Maria said while at the very same time Carver said, “No.”
Jill gave them a funny look, but didn’t say anything.
Carver said, “Yes, I mean.”
To Maria, Jill said, “What is it about men not being able to make up their minds about their women?”
“He’s a pervert,” One said looking at Carver.
Jill seemed taken aback, but not as much as Carver. He looked down at One who smiled at him.
“I’ll say,” Maria joked, placing a gentle hand on Carver’s shoulder. “My man has his tendencies, but only when he’s hitting on all eight cylinders. Lately though, it’s been like two cylinders. He’s pretty run down.” She held up her pointer finger, then let it droop, like a flaccid penis. And then she smiled, the same as Jill smiled.
“The girl code is so cute,” he said.
The jovial moment gone, Jill glanced back and forth between One and Maria, then frowned at Carver and said, “So two man tent?”
“I guess,” he said.
Carver set up h
is bed on one side of the tent, then went outside to help One with the pup tent. When they got hers set up, he said, “Are you okay?” She nodded that she was. There was a very brief hesitation, though, one he caught. “Are you sure?”
She looked over at the larger tent where Maria was moving some things inside. When she looked back up at him, he felt the weight of her gaze.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”
One crawled inside her tent, then into her sleeping bag.
“Sleep well, Sally.”
At the mention of her real name, she turned over and shut him out.
When he slipped inside the tent, he noticed Maria set her bed up next to his. Right next to his. He stole a deep breath, then popped his head back out and stared up at the stars, specifically the bright band of stars crossing the sky. The Milky Way. Even though his feet hurt, he wanted to go for a walk, or perhaps take a short wander under the cool, dark sky. Mostly though, he didn’t want to be in there with Maria.
“You coming in?” she asked.
“I’m going to sit by the fire for awhile,” he finally said. “Maybe warm up before I come sleep next to you.”
He went and sat by the fire, not saying much. Rider and Sarah were sitting there, too. Rider seemed like the silver haired defacto leader of the group, while Sarah was the almost nurse at his side. They were the epitome of an older man finding happiness in a younger woman, and a younger woman being infatuated with an older man.
Maria called this God’s cruel joke.
“One day the trend will change and young men will want the experience and wisdom of an older woman,” Carver had said. “Until that day, do yourself a favor and don’t age.”
She’d huffed out a laugh, a first for her.
Since men were wired to be visually attracted to a woman before they were emotionally attracted to them, he wondered if what he was saying even held water. Looking at Rider and Sarah, feeling like a young, thin, middle aged guy who had yet to truly grow up, he felt out of Sarah’s league. At this point, he felt out of anyone’s league.
When his eyes cleared, he noticed Sarah looking at him. He straightened his spine, took a breath.