ONE
CIPHER
Welcome to Assburbia,population seven (and one cat).
When I’d thought about my future home as a child, a barricaded cul-de-sac in the middle of Rabid Country was never in the cards, but that was exactly what this place had become. Our safe haven. Our home sweet home. We’d rebuilt this compound from the ground up, and I’d be damned if anyone tried to take it from us.
It’d been six weeks since we fled Promised Land, six weeks since I’d wasted Jeremiah the sadist, and Kitten had saved me from certain doom at the hands of that lying snake-oil salesman Brother Larry. The seven of us were safe at last, free from any government interference or whack-ass cult bullshit.
Thanks to Jeremiah’s tricked-out Humvee, we’d made it back to Kitten’s subdivision in the suburbs of Greenville, South Carolina and immediately set about building our newly fortified compound. The Assholes let me take the lead on construction, and we’d worked ‘round the clock to scour the neighborhood for every brick, board, and scrap of metal we could use to act as a barrier between us and the rest of Rabid Country.
Our compound included five houses, two wells, a stretch of field for animals to graze, another for planting crops, and a yard for sports–Macon’s request. In the center of our property was the paved cul-de-sac with a basketball hoop and my own pride-and-joy, a scaffolded wooden watchtower that stood three stories high and was sheltered from the elements by a tin roof. At the top of our lookout were two battery-powered spotlights, mounts for our weapons, and an antenna to capture radio signals, all fashioned by our in-house engineers Gizmo and Wylie. We’d scavenged what gasoline we could from the vehicles in the neighborhood to power our generator but we only used it occasionally, wanting to conserve the gas.
We kept the tower manned at all hours of the day, and everyone took a shift. That was one of Kitten’s rules, that we all contribute to our security because he didn’t want me burning out. We had yet to defend ourselves from raiders, but Rabids still tested our defenses most nights. Groaning and shrieking outside our gates, they shuffled back and forth like the world’s most anemic army before finally giving up and retreating into the surrounding woods before dawn. It was an unsettling experience to witness, but as long as they stayed on their side of the fence, we left them alone. We couldn’t afford to waste our precious ammo.
I had my family, my weapons, and my man by my side. I’d kicked my drug habit (mostly) and had retained three out of four of my limbs in this godforsaken plague. Life could be a lot worse.
Presently, Macon was on duty in the watchtower while Kitten and I lounged under the shade of a southern magnolia tree whose flowers were just starting to bloom. Their sweet, creamy scent floated on the spring air as I napped on a picnic blanket with Kitten working quietly beside me. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I watched Little Miss Purrfect stalk crickets inthe tall grass, her favorite pastime when not lounging in the sun or eating the scraps Kitten still fed her under the table.
“I should really figure out how to use my mom’s sewing machine,” Kitten said, squinting at me through his thick eyelashes. He was stitching a big red “A” onto a rectangle of fabric that was to be our community flag. The sun was shining on his brown curls, highlighting the threads of gold in his hair and reminding me of when we first met last summer. Had it been only nine months since then? It felt as though I’d known him my whole life. He’d grown up so much, as tall as me now and broader besides. Even more handsome, which seemed impossible, but more stunning than his physical appearance, was his inner beauty. My guy had a sexy heart.
“I’m sure you could figure it out. What’s the ‘A’ stand for? Anarchy?” I asked, playing dumb.
He shot me a crooked smile. “You know what it’s for. You’re our leader after all, aren’t you?”
“King Asshole?” I teased.
“Some days,” he said with a smirk. I swatted his leg, and he laughed, then placed the end of the thread in his mouth to wet it. My thoughts drifted back to that morning, what he’d done to me with those pretty lips and clever tongue. I’d had to bite my fist to keep from waking the entire house. Kitten had no such reservations about making noise during sex. Because he was hard of hearing or just that shameless, I wasn’t sure. I plucked up a long stem of grass to occupy my mouth. A cigarette would be nice, but I’d kicked that bad habit too.Sigh.
“You going to try your hand at fashion next?” I asked him, recalling the time I’d judged an impromptu Miss America pageant in one of the homes we’d been scavenging–Kitten’s idea–and he’d descended the staircase in some kind of translucent nightie, his first attempt at seducing me.
“Maybe I will. Might be nice to have some new curtains. I’m thinking of redecorating the house a bit,” he said.
While I was focused on keeping our weapons locked and loaded, Kitten was making our house a home. Live, laugh, love and all that corny shit I pretended to despise but secretly loved. I used to think survival was the only thing that mattered in this world, but he’d shown me differently. Small comforts were the ultimate treasure–a warm bath, a cup of hot tea, a full belly, great sex… Kitten had taught me to embrace those gifts rather than to deny myself the pleasure. Life was simply too short to waste them.
And there was no limit to his creativity–cooking, canning, caring for our growing assortment of livestock, and tending to the plants in the garden. He was currently teaching himself first aid from whatever medical books he could find, to become our resident nurse, reading in the evenings by oil lamp and ruining his eyesight despite my warnings. His ambition motivated me to do better, tobebetter. I was so fucking proud of him.
“Are we finally going to get rid of the Zac Efron poster in your bedroom?” I asked. Not that I minded, but the teenage heartthrob had witnessed a lot of carnal acts between the two of us in the past month or so.
“I was thinking of moving us into my parents’ room. The bed is bigger.” Kitten’s eyebrows knitted together as he waited for my reaction. I knew enough to be careful. The two of us slept in the tiny twin bed in his bedroom, the same one he’d had since he was a child. Gizmo and Wylie shared his brother’s old room across the hall where we’d moved in a second bed because they didn’t like to share. Macon and the girls slept on couches in the den downstairs. No one slept in the master bedroom, and only Kitten was allowed in there to tidy up. Too many bad memories for him of when she was sick and dying. For me too, it was whereI’d ended her life. Eventually we’d expand into the other houses, but none of us were ready to leave the nest just yet.
“I’m happy where we are,” I told him. “And I’m perfectly fine with our Lord and Savior Zac Efron watching over us as we sleep, but if you want to move, I’d be good with that too. As long as we’re together.”
“Okay.” He smiled shyly, then went back to sewing, his little, pink tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, too irresistible not to taste. I spat out the grass stem and stole a kiss from him, just a brush of my mouth against his. Kitten set aside his work to pull me closer, gripping my shirt in both his hands and mashing his soft lips to mine. His tongue told me he was angling for more than just a chaste peck, so I crawled on top of him as gracefully as I could manage and smothered him underneath me for a quick make-out sesh. Kitten took advantage of the position to grind his dick against my thigh, not at all subtle about it. I dragged my fingers through his thick curls, tugging a little at the roots so I could peel him off me long enough for us to catch our breath.
“You horny, babe?” I asked.
“Yeah. You’re so handsome. And you smell good too.”
“What do I smell like?”
“Mmmm… gunpowder and smoked meat.”
The gunpowder tended to linger since I was perpetually working with Gizmo to make more bullets. The meat smell was probably from checking our smokehouse where we cured the game we caught in the forest.
“You like that smell?” I asked.
“Yeah, reminds me of how manly you are. So butch.”
