Bad move to go out there.
Danger, Will Robinson.Least they’d remade that show before the invasion. So many series he’d never binge watch ever again. If anything made him sad about the demise of humankind, it was that.
If he was shot sticking his head out… At least nobody would know how dumb he’d been.
Vargr stuck his head out into the bigger shaft and twisted his head about to look upward.
Elevator shaft, and the elevator was up there, stuck forever on whatever floor that might be.
Two stinkers were slowly dragging the wounded and almost-dead ghoul guard into the gap between the box of the elevator and the wall of the shaft. He frowned. Surely there was not enough room?
If he shot the stinkers they’d come down on his head or fall a very long way. Ditto for that guard.
While he was thinking, the stinkers had kept on dragging.
Screams erupted, confirming the guard was still alive, and that his body didn’t fit too well in that gap.
Blood streamed down the wall. They were stripping flesh off him as they pulled him through like a cheese grater grating a human.
“Crap,” he whispered.
He raised his pistol but hesitated too long over his worry he’d only get himself dead for no particular reason. The man and his spidery Eiffel Tower-legged captors vanished from view. Cyn would be pleased he wasn’t dead.
So was he.
A few small pieces of guard slid past.
“God fuckin’ dammit. Lucky, I haven’t had breakfast yet.” He withdrew into the zagging shaft, wiped his mouth and holstered the gun, then began the journey back to camp.
Along the way he collected Tom, a foot-soldier sent to find him. By the time they reached where Toother guarded the tunnel, he’d been brought up to speed and knew that Rutger and Tom, but particularly Rutger, had cleaned up Cyn after the battle.
He was jogging by then, and he left Tom behind.
Fuck. He should’ve known. Rutger had been making eyes at her. Not that she or he would do anything, he felt that bone-deep—it was a tenet of their existence.
Still.
The beaster had partly stripped her and washed her off.
He leaped through the wall hole, skipped and jumped over the chaos of cars and rubble, then burst into the office where the waterfall flooded the floor.
Found them both. With Cyn in a new pair of tentacle-decorated leggings that accentuated every sweeping curve of herlong limbs. He wondered if Rutger had seen the tattoo on her butt.
His glare made the larger beaster shrug and step backward, palms-out, while keeping his eye on Vargr.
“Just looking after her for you, man. The Lure had her, and she was covered in blood and bits of ghoul guard.”
“Huh.” He walked to her, sloshing through water, to where she perched cutely on a desk in the middle of the pool.
It was only when he drew near that he realized they had her arms trapped at her back. Releasing her could come with negatives. He’d had to tie her down to fuck her that first time the Lure had her in thrall.
Her ass wriggled as if she were a puppy seeing its owner—and that was a vision he would cherish. He took her hips, massaging her with his thumbs, distressed to know he’d been remiss in his duties. Slowly he leaned in and put his forehead to hers, angled his head so he could kiss her, soft and sure.
“Get out of here, Rutger.”
“Done. Though we need to talk, later.”
The beaster, or god monster as they called him, made loud progress as he slogged and jumped through the debris. Deliberate probably, so Vargr would know they were alone.
