But in his brief absence, doubt set in. We’d always done it this way because that was my preference, but maybe he’d like it more if our roles were reversed? I’d like to at leasttrybottoming for him, but what would it take for me to relax and open up like that?
Alcohol, lots of it.
Little Miss Purrfect was scratching at the door, her bedtime ritual. “I’m coming, Little Miss,” Kitten called, then went to greet her royal highness with a dramatic sweep of his arm. She meowed petulantly and jumped onto our (tiny) bed where she kneaded her claws through the blanket into both my ankles before settling down on top of my feet. Most nights, I slept with my prosthesis, just in case shit went down. Kitten was good about making me take it off from time to time and massaging my leg for me. He was a caretaker, through and through.
“Make room,” Kitten said to me, then laid himself mostly on top of me and directed me exactly where he wanted his back to be rubbed. Soon enough, I heard the sounds of him snoring softly along with LMP’s purring. Bedtime orgasms always knocked him right the fuck out. Sleep wouldn’t come to me for a while, but I had a warm boy in my arms and a pleasant afterglow to enjoy. I glanced up at Zac’s knowing smile and gave him a fist bump.
Yeah, life could be a lot worse.
I managedto get a few solid hours of sleep that night and awoke to a groggy but amorous Kitten. After draining his pipes once more (this time with my mouth) we got up, washed off, and readied ourselves for the big day ahead.
Shortly after dawn we were ready to go with water and snacks in our scavenging packs along with whatever weapons we could carry. The dirt bike was a hell of a lot faster than walking, even faster than bicycling, and it handled the pothole-riddled roads pretty well. The bike was narrow enough to weave around vegetation and abandoned cars. Even better, being battery-powered meant that it was quiet. Stealth. The seat was a tight fit for the two of us, but we made it work, and I liked having Kitten behind me to act as scout. We’d left the rifles at basecamp, but Kitten had my Glock and knew how to use it. Hopefully we’d be in and out without encountering any raiders or Rabids, my perpetual prayer to the universe.
Our plan was to first locate the United Forces base and do some reconnaissance, then scavenge at one of the stores we’d passed along the way. I had a map with me, and I pooled our combined intel to determine three locations where I thought the military might have its headquarters. The first two were duds, but the third appeared occupied and functioning. We pulled off the road and navigated the bike into a bunch of trees on a nearby hill where we could get a better look.
The former industrial plant with the name of StarChem spanned about thirty acres and contained several windowless warehouses behind chain-link fencing that was topped with barbed wire–the real kind, not my homemade shit. The roofs of the buildings appeared to have skylights installed, useful for navigating indoors without electricity. There were two sentry turrets on either end of the property, manned by armed guards, and several drones circling the property’s perimeter. I couldn’t tell whether the drones had picked up on our activity, but Itold Kitten to move as little as possible in case they had motion detectors. I was tempted to snag a couple of those for ourselves.
“They have cattle and goats,” Kitten said, nodding with his binoculars toward the distant fields where I could just make out livestock dotting the open pasture. “Bet they have milking cows too,” he said with longing. Where I fantasized about forests without Rabids lurking around every corner, Kitten fantasized about butter and cheese.
“Too dangerous,” I reminded him, though I might consider coming back some other time and relieving them of a few of their goats. Those we could easily fit inside the compound. Then Kitten could make all the butter, cheese, and soap his little heart desired. But we’d need a better plan for that type of mission and a way to transport them home.
A troop of cadets were practicing drills in a concrete yard while a sargeant barked orders. Many of the recruits were single and double amputees, which used to disqualify you from service, but beggars can’t be choosy. Kitten passed me a crabapple from his satchel and took a bite of one himself. They were better when cooked, but I’d gotten used to their lip-puckering tartness.
“Wonder what they do all day inside there,” Kitten said while munching on his apple.
“Considering this used to be a chemical plant, they’re probably set up for biological testing.”
“On Rabids?” he asked, looking ill.
I shrugged. “Rabids, animals, people. Everyone’s trying to find a cure. Field bases probably get better samples from the general Rabid population than the cities.”
“That’s what the cage was for,” Kitten said, his voice dropping an octave. “Jeremiah said he’d let them turn me into a Rabid and sell me to the labs if I didn’t do what he wanted.”
Kitten hadn’t told me all that had happened to him while in captivity. His trauma trickled out little by little, wheneversomething reminded him of that sleazeball Jeremiah. Rage simmered through me, prickling my skin and making my dominant hand flex. My fingernails bit into the apple skin. If only I could kill that bastard twice.
“That motherfucker is dead as a doornail, so we don’t have to worry about him doing that shit to anyone anymore,” I told him. Saying it aloud was just as much a reassurance to myself as it was for him.
“Yeah, but there are others out there who would,” Kitten said.
“You’re probably right.” The world was at times a cruel, vicious place. I could only worry about keeping my family safe from the monsters. Everyone else was on their own.
“I feel bad for the Rabids,” Kitten said, not for the first time. I didn’t completely disagree, but I had to maintain a mental divide. Our survival depended on it.
“We have to value our own lives above Rabids,” I reminded him. “And we have to defend ourselves against them if we want to survive. Us vs. them. No second-thoughts, no hesitations.” No compassion, I wanted to say, but that was Kitten’s most endearing quality and the one I worried about the most. He’d proven himself capable against Rabids and even Brother Larry, but in both those instances he’d been defending me, not himself. If he wavered even a little, he’d be dead.
“But who’s to say humans are any better than Rabids?” Kitten asked.
“Doesn’t matter if we’re better than them, sweetness. We’re human, so unless we want to join them…” The thought alone of losing Kitten to the Rabids was sending me into a doomsday spiral. “Listen, I’m really not the best person to debate the ethics of killing Rabids. My mentality is pretty black and white. You either fight or you die.”
“I know,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just hard sometimes. Especially seeing children who are Rabid. I don’t know if I could kill one of those.”
There’d been more of them lately outside our compound, their small fists clinging to the wrought iron bars of the gate, gnashing their teeth and whimpering with hunger. They looked and sounded like children, sort of. It used to be that children couldn’t survive the disease. The virus was mutating, which meant nothing good for us.
“You could see it as a mercy,” I told him. “They’re sick in their Rabid form, they’ve lost all sense of themselves. We’re helping to ease their pain and end their suffering.”
Like when I killed your mother,I thought with some bitterness. That would always be the story of how we met. Me, the unfeeling monster and Kitten, the newly made orphan. I tried not to think about it too much, but the guilt still nagged at me from time to time. I didn’t regret killing her. I only regretted that it was Kitten’s first impression of me.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he said at last. “Thanks for listening. I feel better getting it out.”
