Dying To Be Widow, Risk and the Killers Book Two
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – It’s All Consumption 1
Chapter 2 – Mm, I Love to Rub It 16
Chapter 3 – More Like Hell’s Door 26
Chapter 4 – Like a Delicacy, I’d Say 34
Chapter 5 – No Pay for Dead Flesh, Dammit 43
Chapter 6 – Orgasming Your Brains Out 53
Chapter 7 – Yes, We’re Mutants 67
Chapter 8 – No One Can Protect You 80
Chapter 9 – A Hypnotic Sexiness About You 90
Chapter 10 – He Can Sniff Out Females 108
Chapter 11 – Never a Dull Goddamn Moment 120
Chapter 12 – That Fucking Mouth of Yours 125
Chapter 13 – Mama, No! Don’t Be a Bug! 138
Chapter 14 – Just Something to Fuck 144
Chapter 15 – The Hottest, Sluttiest Ones 150
Chapter 16 – A Slick Black Tomb 153
Chapter 17 – She Killed My Mama! 160
Chapter 18 – I Deserve to Lose My Mind 167
Chapter 19 – No Goddamn Fingernails 178
Chapter 20 – An Entirely Separate Head 182
Chapter 21 – Stay With Igor 187
Chapter 22 – No One Deserves Sexy Like This 196
Chapter 23 – You Can Survive this Shit 212
Chapter 24 – This Place Is Just Too Brutal 224
Chapter 25 – You Need a Practical Fucker 235
Chapter 26 – Bet It’s the Sweetest Ever 242
Chapter 27 – Sexiest Goddamn Thing 255
Chapter 28 – Loving and Consuming–All the Same 271
Chapter 29 – The Crafter Named Marie 284
Chapter 30 – Nauseating Ball of Bait 294
Chapter 31 – Me and You and a Monkey 303
Chapter 32 – Show Me Your Dungeon 317
Chapter 33 – Kill Whoever You Want! 327
Chapter 34 – You, Pauline, Are Edible 341
Chapter 35 – So Soft and Quiet for Me 351
Chapter 36 – A Required Quantity of Ejaculation 360
Chapter 37 – Upside Down for a Cruel Woman 370
Chapter 38 – Nails Hammered into My Spine 381
Chapter 39 – It’s Bath Time, Baby Girl 392
Chapter 40 – She’s Almost Inviting Cruelty 399
Chapter 41 – Fuck Them Then Kill Them 412
Chapter 42 – A Sexy, Curvy Bottle of Poison 423
Chapter 43 – Name Is Rodney 438
Chapter 44 – Run, Little Two-headed Man! 453
Chapter 45 – My Little Crafter Girl’s Ass 462
Chapter 46 – The Orgasm Keeps Going 474
Chapter 47 – The Fucker’s Begging for It 484
Chapter 48 – My Shaggy, Horny Friend 496
Chapter 49 – A Hot, Sticky Mess Hung On 514
Chapter 50 – Suck the Girl’s Nipples, Slave 527
Chapter 51 – The Right Amount of Poison 545
Chapter 52 – No Matter How Cruel and Uncaring 559
Chapter 53 – Oh! So Much! 570
Chapter 54 – I Didn’t Ask for This 591
Chapter 55 – God, I’m Losing My Mind 608
Chapter 56 – A Noteworthy Variety of Arachnid 623
Chapter 57 – Doing Something So Degrading 638
Chapter 58 – Quiet Now, Juicy King 654
Chapter 59 – The Unmistakable Stink of Him 672
Chapter 60 – More Than Her Own Life 681
Chapter 61 – You Giant Freak Spider 691
Chapter 62 – The Truest Love 708
Chapter 1 – It’s All Consumption
“Mm, this is like some kind of meal served only in Heaven.”
Daniel scoffed softly and said, “Scarlet, that means you’d have to be dead to enjoy it. We can’t get deliveries there. And come on, you can’t like this food that much.”
“If it takes being dead, hmm, maybe it would be worth it.”
She grinned and bit the other end off of a spring roll, then dipped it in the special house sauce, making it ready for the next attack.
“You and your appetites. You can’t really think that—”
“Plural, Daniel? Uh, we’re just talking about food, right?”
He laughed and said, “The lines between them aren’t as crisp as we might think. Maybe food and—”
“Sex? You’re comparing eating to sex now?”
“Yeah, food and sex—maybe they’re all—”
“I already know what you’re going to say: that it’s all consumption.”
Laughing, he said, “Huh? No, Scarlet, I was going to say it’s all enjoyable. Consumption? That’s your word.”
With a grin, she said, “Well, consumption can be enjoyable.”
He pointed at her and said, “Either, or both, with you.”
“You’re sweet.”
“And I’m eating with you.”
“Yes, you are. You and your theories,” she said before taking another crunchy bite, then talking around it while also chomping. “It’s just really good—that’s all I’m saying.”
Daniel paused his next bite to smile at her, then let his heavily loaded fork rest on his plate.
“No argument here. Can’t beat a high-end Chinese feast, but you’d probably devour just about anything right now.”
Scarlet hurried to swallow and answer her husband, but she’d rushed the bits down before they were ready and had to cough a few times. If her long and thick black hair hadn’t been tied up in a controlled, elegant fashion, she would have bounced it all around and maybe dragged it across her plate.
Daniel laughed at her modest distress and said, “Hey, that’s what you get for letting yourself get so hungry. Maybe we should put it all in a blender?”
She managed a muffled laugh, mixed in with more coughing and the beginning of her blue eyes watering, apparent even through the thick lenses of her eyeglasses. But she also held a hand up and shook her head.
“Oh, a blender, Daniel? Really?”
“Yeah. A liquid diet for you. You could just take your time and sip it all down, just a drop at a time.”
“Take my time? How long would it take to finish a meal one drop at a time?”
“Okay, that’s kind of an exaggeration. You could just slurp it all down real quick too.”
She scoffed and said, “You’re being silly. But you’re right about being too hungry. Mm, I do want to keep stuffing this all down, just more carefully.”
He grinned at her chopping off a bigger bite, one slathered with more colorful sauce. She only bobbed her eyebrows a few times, kept smiling, and chewed and savored every crunch.
“Happy anniversary, Baby,” he said.
Quickly, she blinked softly as she paused her chewing, but her smile didn’t retreat.
After another quick swallow, but one without any difficulties, she said, “Aw, thanks, Honey. Yes, the anniversary is a happy thing.”
Daniel’s smile faded, and he studied the tines of his fork probing around in a plate of sloppy noodles. He nodded before looking up at her again.
“I’m so sorry about . . . things. If there was any way I could change it, or anything I could have given to—”
“Honey, no,” she said. “I didn’t mean it that way. I promise, I’m not thinking about it—just how happy I am to be celebrating here with you.”
His smile returned, and he said, “Uh, yeah. With me . . . and the food.”
“Oh,” she said with a grin, “you’re worried that I’ll get obese?”
He laughed at the ceiling, then said, “You? Not possible. You have a figure most women would kill for.”
She tipped her head and waited.
“Alright. Most men too. I’m trying not to think about that.”
“Well, I don’t want them to think about it either.”
“You dress so modestly that hardly anyone would ever notice. I’m lucky. I get to unwrap that package.”
“Hmm. Only if you’re good.”
He’d been listening while finishing off his glass of rice wine, then he set it on the crisp white tablecloth.
“Check your mental notes and do a quick analysis. Like you’re at work.”
She paused her next bite into what was left of her spring roll.
“Analysis of what?”
“Of how good I’ve been.”
He began to count off with one finger at a time.
“I got us the best room and a table at the best restaurant in Chinatown. I did not forget our anniversary. I’ve complimented you on how outrageously gorgeous your figure is and now, I’m telling you how absolutely captivating your smile is.”
He waited with four fingers held up. She smiled and waited.
His thumb joined the fingers, and he said, “And I’m going to state for the record, right now, that your kisses are addictive, could get me to do anything, and should probably be outlawed because―”
“Stop!” she said, laughing as she looked around.
He stopped, smiled, and let his counting hand relax.
Scarlet tipped her head back enough to look toward the ceiling, and her eyes rhythmically moved from side to side several times.
Looking into his eyes again, she said, “Okay. I’m done.”
He squinted a glance toward her plate, which hadn’t gotten even close to being emptied.
“Uh, there’s still—”
“No, silly. The analysis. Yes. You’re being a perfect husband. Thank you.”
“So, you agree that your kisses are—”
“Stop again. That’s sweet, but you’re exaggerating. And being so complimentary. My analysis tells me that you probably have some secret agenda with all that.”
He rubbed his chin, nodding, and said, “Shrewd. Yeah, you sure can analyze the crap out of things. Yes, I do have a, um, suggestion.”
“And what might that be?”
He looked down at her silverware, saw that she wasn’t holding any of it, not even the knife, then sighed and looked back up at her.
“You love the stars probably more than anything. Well, except for me, of course.”
“Of course,” she said with a soft giggle.
“And the stars love you right back. They sent me a secret comm today, and they—”
“A secret comm?”
“Alright. Maybe it was just my imagination.”
“And what did you imagine the stars telling you in this secret comm?”
He smiled at her smile, lingering on the sight of her lips, then looked through the lenses of her glasses at her soft blue eyes.
“They said that they want more than anything to—”
He jacked up his eyebrows and looked around them, saw that no one appeared to be listening, then focused on her eyes again.
“They want to watch us make love. Just for us and for them to witness. Scarlet, they want to watch.”
“You’re terrible. Stars don’t want things like that.”
“They don’t? Have you polled them and analyzed the results? No, I doubt that you have. You can’t prove my contention about them wrong.”
“Well, no, I guess I can’t. But Honey, our balcony has no privacy, and—”
“No. No, Scarlet. Me and you, out on the roof. Right after this meal.”
“Oh, Daniel, no. I love you, you know I do, but that’s not my style at all.”
“Your style takes my breath away.”
“Hmm. I’ve never seen you stop breathing. I’m not that stylish.”
He laughed then said, “I exaggerate. But just because your work is so serious, with all that figuring and stuff, doesn’t mean you can’t cut loose sometimes too.”
She scoffed, barely hiding her grin, keeping it at bay long enough to respond.
“You think I’m a prude.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that—”
“It’s just that I’m too much of a—”
“Prude. Yeah. Deadly gorgeous, though.”
She looked down at her plate, smiling, and said, “Gorgeous is nice. Deadly, though?”
“Just a figure of speech. And maybe prude isn’t the right word. You know what I mean. I just think you ought to try letting yourself go a little sometimes.”
“Making love out there on the roof is a little? Oh, Daniel.”
He nodded at his largely untouched meal, then looked back into her eyes.
“I know. But maybe we need to, I don’t know, kind of get out of our lane. Something kind of crazy that’s really not all that crazy.”
She stared at him across the small table, slowly shaking her head and unable to completely hide her smile.
He gave her reluctant smile a quick look, then said, “It might, um, help us get past things. At least for a while. What do you say?”
“Daniel.”
“You could kiss me and make me do probably anything.”
“Daniel, no.”
“You like having that kind of power over me. I know you do.”
“Daniel, you’re being—”
“It’s not just about me. Scarlet, think of the stars.”
“Oh, the stars. I do love the stars. But it’s been cloudy all day, and they’re all—”
She stopped at the sight of him pointing to the window next to their table. Just beyond the small patio, across the darkness of the deserted rooftop, a full and bright moon was peeking over a low parapet.
“Oh, um. Uh, the moon’s out.”
He nodded and said, “And it brought along a whole flock of―”
She giggled and said, “Stars don’t gather together in flocks.”
“They’ll flock themselves up to watch you.”
“Daniel.”
“When I unwrap you, showing them just how gorgeous you are.”
“Daniel, you really should—”
“And when your kisses, like the sweetest drug possible, get me to the point where—”
“Okay!”
She giggled and looked around them.
“Okay, Daniel. Um, but just a, uh, a—”
“A quickie?”
“Yes. That.”
“Deal. The stars will just have to pay attention and not miss anything.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Happy anniversary, Scarlet, my love.”
“That’s better than calling me a prude. I’m not, you know. Not really.”
He grinned and said, “You won’t be after the stars watch you being so bad.”
Daniel held the top rail of the low chain-link fence bounding the patio. All of the wrought iron lampposts were off, and the tables and chairs were stacked and stored away, leaving a clear view of the other diners inside staying busy with their meals and oblivious to the couple sneaking away.
“We probably shouldn’t even be out here, Daniel.”
“I didn’t see any signs. They’re practically inviting people to come out here.”
“People? You think there are more people out here?”
He laughed and said, “Would you like that? With what we’re going to do?”
“No! I’m not like that. That’s a very private thing, and I’m—”
“A very private and practical woman. I know. But drop-dead gorgeous too.”
“I’m not sure I like being drop-dead anything. But thanks.”
“Calls ‘em as I sees ‘em.”
“Oh, boy. Funny.”
“Just get a hold of that top pipe, then swing your leg over, and you—”
“Ooh, I don’t even want to touch that. There could be bugs.”
“There aren’t any bugs. They don’t just sit around this high up on a building. Oh, but maybe that dress is kind of long.”
She punched him softly on his arm.
“You’re always wanting me to shorten that, aren’t you? This is quite a nice dress just the way it is.”
“And you look fantastic in it. But your legs are even more fantastic. You’ll just have to hike that up some to climb over. Better yet, let me help you.”
She slapped at his hands and said, “I’ll manage. It’s really not much of a fence anyway.”
“Sure. I’m going to watch, though. With the stars.”
“You’re terrible. Alright, I’m going over.”
“Not down?”
She giggled and said, “You’re impossible.”
“How about hopeful?”
With a smile, barely discernible in the dark, she said, “Maybe if my analysis says you’ve earned that.”
He pumped a fist and said, “Yes! I mean, yeah, I think I have.”
“Terrible.”
She pulled her dress up quickly, just enough to get one leg over the low fence, then quickly brought over the other and let the dress back down.
“It was too dark,” he said, “and you were too quick.”
“Did you see any bugs? Are there bugs about to get me?”
“There are no bugs, Scarlet. You’re safe. But you’re too quick. I didn’t see anything.”
“You did say that you wanted something quick.”
“Funny. Not that.”
“Anyway, you’ve seen it all before.”
“Oh my God, yeah. Up close too. Like, so close that—”
“Will you just get over that fence already? Before I change my mind?”
“You can’t,” he said, and she saw that he was pointing straight up.
She sighed when looking up at the black dome above them, too high above San Francisco’s lights to scare away even the faintest of stars. The sparkling dots all crowded together, dancing around to form constellations and clusters and seeming to blink softly to sneak their light down to the appreciative blue eyes trying to take all of them in with a single look.
“They won’t let you, those stars. They just told me that you can’t go back on our agreement.”
“Ooh, just like an attorney. I didn’t sign anything, did I?”
“Well, no, but I think it was a, um . . . you say it. What kind of agreement did you make?”
“You’re so bad, Daniel. I’m not saying it.”
He hurried over the railing, sat himself back against it, and pulled her in close. Together, they looked up at the bright pinholes in the tight black fabric above them.
“Say it, Scarlet. What kind of agreement?”
“No, I’m not saying it.”
“It’s just a word. You can probably tell that I’m already imagining that word coming from your lips.”
She shifted her hips around, grinding into him, then giggled softly.
“Oh my, yes, I can tell. Even without me saying it.”
“Still, say it. You might even like saying it.”
He smiled at the sound of her letting out a deep breath before she said, “Oral. It was oral, an oral agreement, you bad man.”
He laughed softly, then said, “The man in the moon really liked you saying that.”
She squeezed his hand and looked across a rough gravel field still hidden in the parapet’s shadow.
“He said he wants to hear more.”
“Oh, you’re impossible.”
Looking down near them for a moment, she watched as the line between shadow and moonlit roof surface crept away from them, as if conniving to coax them toward the brightest light in the sky.
“Hmm,” she said with a modest scoff. “What about the stars?”
“Oh, I’m afraid they expect much more than some dirty talk.”
“I wasn’t talking dirty.”
“Not yet. That was part of the agreement too.”
“It was not!”
“There’s no arguing with stars, Scarlet. Like your kisses being somehow kind of toxic to me, they—”
“Toxic now?”
“Uh, you know what I mean. Tasty toxic is what I meant.”
“I’m not sure that’s too much better.”
“Okay, but the point is, stars always get their way with you. You love them.”
“Yes, I kind of do. And while they’re getting their way with me, you’ll be getting your way with me too?”
“A deal’s a deal.”
She turned to gaze at the moon, its lowest edge kissing the low brick wall. He inhaled and nuzzled around her neck
“Yeah. And it’s working, Daniel. I am kind of forgetting. A little.”
“That’s the whole point.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, laughing softly and still focused on the moon. “You want your way with me.”
“On the roof.”
“Yeah, on the roof.”
“It’s for the stars, Scarlet. Can’t argue with stars.”
“For the stars.”
She sighed and started a slow walk toward the moon, his hand in hers, and her low heels were all that broke the silence on the lofty, moonlit and starlit roof in San Francisco.
Hand in hand, Scarlet and Daniel approached the waist-high brick wall capped with smooth, flat sandstone. With every step, the full moon rewarded them with more light and cast their shadows, which they’d never turned to see, farther behind them, almost far enough to reach the restaurant’s patio.
He stopped her and turned her to face him.
“First,” he said, then removed her glasses, using both hands. They were quickly folded and tucked into a pocket.
The moonlight seemed to approve and provided enough light for him to see her smile, which remained when she said, “And second?”
He reached around with both hands, and each found an ass cheek. Each got a gentle squeeze, then a few pats for one of them, before he started rubbing both.
“This. Oh, that feels so nice. You’re really kind of spectacular.”
“You kind of have to say that, you know.”
“I do?”
“Yes. Or my toxic kisses will make you say whatever I want.”
“Just the thought of those kisses could make me say whatever you want.”
He leaned in, she tipped her head back enough for their lips to meet, and the moon, planted amongst the stars, watched quietly.
“Mm,” he said, keeping their lips close. “I really liked hearing you say what kind of agreement you made for tonight.”
She rolled her eyes just enough that he could notice, then said, “I might even say it again.”
He waited, looking down at her lips, which were full and red and curled slightly into a smile.
Her lips formed the word, “Oral.”
He gave her a quick kiss, then said, “What about it?”
“Hmm. You just want me to keep saying it.”
“Uh, yeah. I sure do.”
“Okay. I, um, like the word ‘oral.’”
He laughed, gave her ass a tighter squeeze with each hand, and said, “Again. Leave out that bit about it being a word.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Only because you kissed me. It’s overpowering.”
“Huh. Yeah, I can see that. Okay. Um, I like . . . oral.”
Daniel groaned out a deep sigh but didn’t let her go. But he did dare to go back for another dose of her hypnotic kisses. Before leaning away, he moved closer, enough to whisper in her ear.
“It’s kind of a giving thing, you know. Maybe you should add that. You know, just to be precise.”
In his ear, she whispered, “Oh, you are such a bad man.”
“I can’t help it. I kissed you. Try it again, and remember to show how generous you are.”
She giggled softly, still close to his ear, then whispered, “I like . . . giving . . . oral.”
He gave her ear a kiss and said, “Mm-hmm. Oh, yeah, and you like talking dirty too.”
“Since when, Daniel? That doesn’t count. That was just because you’re pestering me. Maybe that moon is pestering me too.”
“And the stars. Don’t leave them out.”
“Anything for the stars. Yeah.”
“Oh, yeah. Now, you’re talking.”
“What?”
“You just entered into another oral agreement. You committed yourself to keeping the stars happy.”
“I did not! So, just out of curiosity, what would it take to please them?”
“Remember that they just showed up minutes ago, just for you.”
“Yeah, it was cloudy all day. Okay. Sure.”
“So, you owe them.”
“What, exactly?”
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
She leaned back and slapped both hands against his chest.
“Stars aren’t perverted like that! They don’t want that!”
“Uh, someone does. Alright, maybe not the stars.”
“You, Daniel. You want that.”
“I want what?” he said, grinning in the moonlight.
“You want me to say that too?”
He nodded and said, “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Say it.”
While she was shaking her head, her eyes blue enough for the weak rooftop light, he reached up and found what she’d used to restrain her hair. The few pins and clips were quickly lost in the parapet’s shadows, and Scarlet’s very long, thick black hair cascaded down over her back.
“And I suppose that’s necessary too?”
“Yep. You probably even feel more daring with all that hair down.”
“Hmm.”
“Go on. You should still say it. Tell me what I want and maybe the stars do too.”
She put her arms up over his shoulders, gave him a quick kiss, then backed away just enough to smile, keeping her lips close.
“You want me to . . .”
“Go on. Keep going.”
“You’re horrible. Okay. You want me to . . . masturbate. For you to watch.”
“Oh, God, I sure do.”
Holding her waist, he turned her back toward the roof’s edge and began nudging her backwards.
“Um, Daniel. What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just kind of lean up against that wall with the moon behind you.”
“How long have you had this all choreographed?”
“I worked out the last detail when I cracked open that last fortune cookie.”
“Oh, I really believe that. It told you to arrange all of this?”
“Well, sort of. Not exactly. It was something about taking chances. Daring to hope for more than a mere human deserves.”
They’d reached the wall, and she leaned back to sit herself into it. He let go of her waist to brush her mane back over her shoulders, then leaned down to kiss her.
“I’m the mere human,” he said. “You? You’re something else.”
He took a few steps back, then stooped down, watching her silhouette. The light breezes toyed with wisps of her hair but kept them back and off of her face.
“I’m something not human, huh?”
“Um, just trying to say that you’re so much more.”
“Sweet talker.”
“Yeah. That’s part of it too.”
“What is?”
“Talking. While you’re, um, you know.”
“You’re too much sometimes. What exactly am I supposed to be saying?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about a play-by-play kind of thing? Oh, pretend I’m blind. Yeah, call it like that.”
“What is going on with you?” she said with a soft laugh. “All of this from a fortune cookie?”
“Well, no. My imagination sometimes gets—”
Something metallic rattled in the dark distance, far away in the roof’s remaining shadows.
“Daniel, what’s that? Is someone else up here?”
“No, Scarlet. No way. Don’t worry about that at all.”
“You neither. I’ll protect you.”
Laughing, he said, “You? No, you’re too sweet and innocent. I don’t see you ever doing anything even close to violent.”
She sighed and said, “I suppose that’s true. You’re sure there’s no one else up here?”
“I’m sure.”
She turned enough to look out from the roof, then gave a quick glance down.
“Hey,” he said. “Careful, alright?”
“Me?” she said, laughing once. “This was your idea. You put me here.”
She stood up and said, “Never mind. This is silly. We shouldn’t even be out here.”
He almost whined, saying, “We had a deal, Scarlet. You can’t change your mind now.”
“Oh. That agreement.”
“Yeah, that. If you really change your mind, maybe I’ll, I don’t know, throw myself over the edge.”
She laughed and said, “No, there’s no way you’d ever do that. And besides, that would make me a widow. I don’t want to be a widow, Daniel.”
His grin was obvious in the moon’s light, then it was like a celestial hand somewhere had snapped a silent switch, and the entire rooftop went dark. They both looked up.
“No moon and no stars,” she said. “Only clouds again.”
“It’s a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
He said, “They’re all just giving you a bit more privacy. They’ll see you. The moon and stars will see you just fine.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And they’ll hear you. God, that’s so important too.”
“You’re a terrible man.”
“Damn fortune cookie.”
Chapter 2 – Mm, I Love to Rub It
“Sure,” she said, “blame it on a cookie.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty lame. So, lights are out, and it’s time to get back to it.”
“Back to me, uh . . .”
“Say it. Go on.”
After a half-hearted scoff, she said, “Back to me masturbating.”
“And talking dirty.”
“A play-by-play?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes, please. Hey, you’ll have to lift that dress up to, uh, you know.”
“Now, you can’t say it? But you want me to?”
“I can say it. But this is your show, so you—”
“It’s a show? Really, Daniel?”
He laughed once and said, “Well, yeah. For the moon and stars. Somewhere behind the clouds. Okay, it’s a little for me too.”
She scoffed and reached for the hem of her dress. She cleared her throat, then her voice took on a different tone—that of a narrator.
“I’m reaching for my dress.”
He watched both of her hands holding the hem, then he said, “And do you feel your legs?”
She stopped and scoffed again.
“Uh, sort of.”
“Talk about that too.”
“But I’m barely even touching my—”
“So, make a better effort. For the moon.”
After a deep sigh and a smile that he could just barely see, she began to slowly peel her dress up along her thighs. He leaned enough to get a better view of her fingertips gliding along her skin.
“This dress needs to be out of the way. And my thighs, which I’m touching, are so smooth.”
He coughed softly and said, “And you like that, right? You like touching them.”
She scoffed and said, “I’m touching my legs, and I like how smooth they are.”
She pulled the dress up more, and Daniel only watched silently.
“They’re so smooth and soft.”
He still hadn’t said anything.
“I touch them all the time.”
With the moonlight hitting him head-on, she could plainly see that his eyes were locked onto her hands, and her dress, and her thighs.
“Every chance I get.”
“Why wouldn’t you? Even when I’m not around, right?”
She stopped her progress and tipped her head, waiting for his eyes to meet hers.
When they finally did, she said, “Daniel, this is silly. You really want me to—”
“Me and the moon and the stars. Yeah. All of us.”
She laughed and said, “That’s a lot.”
“One more. The most important one.”
“Oh, my,” she said, looking around. “That noise a second ago. There had better not be—”
He laughed and said, “No, Scarlet. You. You really want to.”
“I do?”
“Close your eyes for a second, and imagine a steamy orgasm waiting for you—just moments away.”
She grinned but closed her eyes.
“Okay. Uh, yeah. Steamy, you said? That’s always nice.”
She kept her eyes closed, and he said, “You want to masturbate. You want that orgasm, don’t you?”
Her grin faded, and she began folding her dress up along her thighs again. He stayed quiet, and Scarlet needed no more prompting.
Using her narrator voice again, she said, “I really do touch my thighs all the time.”
She kept going with the dress, and Daniel smiled at the sight of her panties as she got the dress up around her waist, then tucked it around behind her.
“And there we go. That’s out of the way.”
“You even like undressing yourself, right?”
That got a grin and nod from her, and she said, “Oh, yeah. It’s an excuse to touch my soft skin all over. Like I’m doing with my thighs. My smooth, soft thighs.”
With eyes still closed, she rubbed her fingertips along the insides of her legs and said, “But touching my thighs is only a start. It’s never enough.”
She traced paths up to her belly, and rubbed around there for a few moments. Daniel, shaking slightly, dared to look up higher. He saw Scarlet’s eyes closed still, but she also was teasing her tongue along her upper lip.
“Mm,” she said, and he was quick in looking back down between her thighs.
With her palms against the bare skin above the delicate elastic band, Scarlet poked her fingers inside, then wiggled them enough to drive them in behind the silky fabric.
“Never enough,” she said. “Oh, no. I always want to touch my . . .”
He held his breath, eyes locked on the fingers that were still motionless inside her panties.
“. . . pussy.”
Daniel was shaking his head, staring at his wife just beginning to masturbate for him on a deserted Chinatown roof.
And telling him all about it.
“Mm, it feels so good to touch my pussy. Mm, I love to rub it.”
He swallowed hard.
“I know just what my pussy likes.”
He watched the cloth moving in the moonlight as her fingers found just the right places.
“Oh, just like that,” she said, and it was obvious that she’d gotten a finger or two inside.
Even as he watched her left arm making gentle, rhythmic motions, and knowing—imagining—what she was doing to herself, he didn’t even realize that he was reaching for his zipper.
“In and out,” she said, her eyes still closed and her motions steady and determined and appearing well-practiced. “So soft. Just the right amount.”
He’d gotten his zipper down and was fumbling around inside.
“And I don’t ever want to stop touching my pussy until I—”
Another loud creaky rattle coasted through the darkness from some area of the rooftop still buried in shadows.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Scarlet. It’s just an old building.”
“Old buildings are creepy and scary. Is there someone else out here?”
“No. No way. But why don’t you imagine that someone’s watching from the shadows?”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“What are they watching you do?”
She giggled and said, “Masturbating.”
“More detail,” he said, laughing softly.
“Touching my pussy?”
“Yes. Maybe someone’s watching you touch your pussy. It’s so soft, isn’t it? And your fingers know just what it likes?”
“Hmm. Yeah. They sure do.”
She closed her eyes, and he watched her arm begin its steady motions again. He’d fought with a large, stiff part of himself to get it out into the moonlight, and he stared at her hand as he gave himself modest strokes.
“Mm,” she said, “my pussy is so wet.”
“Show me.”
“God, you’re a terrible man.”
With one hand, she made sure that her dress was up and out of the way. She slipped the other out from inside her panties, then slid her fingertips down, then up the inside of one thigh. Then, the other.
“God, even in the dark, I see it.”
“Mm-hmm. Ooh, my pussy needs to get even wetter.”
Still holding her dress, she wiggled her fingers back under the tight fabric, then went a little farther, bringing out a soft moan.
“Say you love it.”
She smiled, never slowed, and said, “I love when it’s all wet.”
“Not just that.”
She smiled, shook her head, kept her eyes closed, and didn’t stop.
“You really are terrible.”
He shrugged, but she didn’t see it with her eyes closed.
“Damn, Daniel. The things I’ll do for you.”
“Especially when you’re about to cum.”
“Hmm . . .”
Her breaths were sometimes choppy and deep enough to extend her breasts out with each inhale.
“I, um, I love my pussy. I love my wet pussy.”
“Oh, yeah. You sure do. It’s all wet and juicy, isn’t it?”
“Mm-hmm. It’s so juicy.”
“And you love that.”
Her breaths got choppier, and her arm was moving more quickly, more forcefully, keeping wet fingers busy and getting her so close.
“Mm-hmm, I love my wet and juicy pussy.”
“And just the juice?”
“Mm, I love my pussy juice.”
“Oh, yeah. Too many words, though.”
“Really, Daniel?” she said, pulling in a sharp breath.
“Yes, really. With what you’re feeling, you have to play along.”
She scoffed with a smile, then said, “Hmm. I love, um, pussy juice.”
“Oh, yeah. And you love to make yourself cum?”
She panted a few times before answering.
“Mm-hmm. Oh my God, I am. I’m so close.”
He kept stroking himself, watching fingers beneath the fine cloth of her panties rubbing more quickly. His glances away from her action were quick, but they were enough to see that with each breath, she was jutting out her breasts, straining them against the thin fabric of her dress.
“And you love to cum? Tell me you do even if you don’t mean it.”
“You’re getting even sillier, Daniel. Mm, oh yeah. I sure do love to cum.”
“You love making yourself cum?”
“Mm-hmm. Because I love my—”
“Too many words.”
“Daniel!”
“My anniversary gift, Scarlet. Come on.”
“Fine. Because I love pu—”
A loud thump, then a rusty squeal, rolled toward them from the darkness.
She didn’t open her eyes, and neither of them stopped.
“It’s nothing. Say it. It’s part of the agreement.”
“Because I love . . . pussy. I bet you like me saying that, huh?”
“Say it again. I mean, really say it.”
She shook a couple of times before she spoke. And she didn’t show the slightest smile.
“I absolutely love . . . pussy. More than—”
“Aw, you’re just say—”
“Uh-uh. More than anything at all . . . mm, I love pussy. I really love pussy, Daniel.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, more moan than anything else, shaking with every stroke of her hand. “Mm, so soft and all that . . . juice. You never . . . asked me. You don’t . . . mind . . . do you?”
She tipped her head to hear his answer, but Daniel didn’t say a word.
So, Scarlet delivered the final, expert touches to send herself into a spiraling climax, touching what she’d just told her husband she liked the best.
“Oh God,” she said, listening but not hearing Daniel, who had gone completely silent.
“Mm . . .” she said, gasping softly as her fingertips skillfully touched in just the right ways. “I’m glad I told you.”
Before opening her eyes but never slowing her fingers or weakening her still-growing orgasm, Scarlet said, between urgent breaths, “Oh, that feels so good. Oh! Oh, here it goes! Mm . . .”
She groaned out a deep breath, rubbed with more pressure, and said, “But you still have to fuck me. I love that too.”
Grinning, she added, “I’m talking so dirty, and I want so bad to be fucked. Daniel? I said ‘fucked.’”
Then, quaking from the ecstasy, she opened her eyes just enough to see her husband’s reaction.
And though her hand locked itself in place, with two wet fingers deep inside her, her climax was just too strong to stop for anything.
Even the sight of a giant ragged hand couldn’t halt it, a hand coarse and black and leathery, like a weathered black glove covering Daniel’s mouth and so wide that it almost blocked his staring eyes.
Scarlet’s orgasm wouldn’t fade even when she saw a snarling, gargoyle-like head high above her husband’s, and large, sinewy black wings extending out far to each side, pumping slowly and quietly.
Through the strong ripples and tingling, she found the will to scream.
“Daniel!”
He groaned and wrestled and got free from the hand just long enough to yell, “Scarlet! Run as fast as—”
The hand nearly crushed his face as it trapped the rest of his words inside, but Daniel kept fighting to break free of its grasp.
Scarlet, electricity still pulsing through her from her daring masturbation for her husband, did nothing but open her eyes wider. She had no time to speak or scream before Daniel was on her, his arms flailing out as he tried to grab her.
She saw that the beast behind him, so black everywhere that it could almost have been a sinewy slice of the night that had ripped itself free, was reaching for him with both of its hideous hands. Long claws on every one of its fingers, all as dark as the rest of the creature, were about to rip into him.
“Scarlet! You have to—”
One hand smothered him again and started to pull him backwards. Scarlet fought to not get dragged with him, but he’d gotten tight grips on the sleeves of her dress.
The nightmare bat thing easily lifted Daniel from the gravel, which then yanked Scarlet upright onto her heels, then higher. But her dress was still wrapped around her waist, showing simple, modest panties that were dark enough to conceal any wet spots. And her long black hair was a mop dangling down over the busy street far below.
Her legs hung limp as she watched the bat open its mouth to scream.
But all it did was laugh like something that knew very well its level of vileness and reveled in it.
Scarlet screamed, then screamed again when a second bat appeared from the darkness and grabbed at her husband too.
That one laughed as roughly as the first.
Daniel, his face gouged and ripped and bleeding, struggled and twisted around to get his mouth free and yelled, “Scarlet, not you too!”
“Daniel!”
“Run! When I let you go, run, goddammit!”
“No, Daniel! I’m not leaving you!”
As if it understood the words spoken by the anniversary couple who’d been enjoying a new experience to forget their past, the first bat flapped its wings just before Daniel was about to let go of Scarlet.
That single pump of its wings lifted them all up more, and it also moved husband and wife closer to the edge.
Too close.
Only Scarlet’s ankles were touching the parapet’s top sandstone layer when Daniel lost his grip on the flimsy fabric, and her eyes, blue even without the voyeuristic moon’s light, stared into Daniel’s.
She stared even as she fell, heels in place, tasteful dress still bunched up around her waist, and her wild black hair flapping madly and pointing up at Daniel.
A single scream, an odd mix from a woman knowing that she’d be dead soon but still twisted up from the rapture of an uncommonly robust orgasm, reached upward to her captured and brutalized husband.
The bat held Daniel there, clutching his neck and not letting him scream his final goodbye, as it and the other bat, and Daniel, all watched Scarlet and her dwindling scream falling toward the street many stories below them.
“Hate humans,” it said, then it began a steady driving of its oily black wings, lifting itself and Daniel higher above the gravel.
“Eh,” said the other, also winging enough to hover there. “They have some value.”
“Some.”
“Only some.”
Chapter 3 – More Like Hell’s Door
“You can’t play for shit,” said a thin, sloppy teenage boy, covered in grimy denim and pausing his nose picking long enough to sneer while offering his uninvited critique.
His friends, not as thin but almost as dirty as the streets, snickered and giggled. But the sparse crowd surrounding the homeless musician, who was sitting on the sidewalk with his back against the building’s brick wall, mostly ignored the comment. Some shook their heads, and others scoffed and searched their pockets for more change for the donation bucket adorned with a crude sign reading “Blind. Help Feed Kat.”
And one in the audience, a slightly older fellow obviously dedicated to serious gym time, dropped his backpack, pointed and the crass critic, and said, “Hey, leave him alone.”
“Wade, not again,” said a wispy blond woman holding his arm.
“Relax, Ginny,” he said, never taking his eyes off of the wisecracking punk.
A punk who said, mostly for his friends, “Somebody’s whipped.”
His back got patted, and the youth to his left elbowed him and said, “That’s telling him.”
“Dammit, you—”
“Wade, no. Just let it go.”
He frowned at the entire laughing group of them while saying, “Fine.”
Tipping his head to his own strumming rhythm, which barely moved his bushy, matted mop of hair, the man seated on the grimy concrete grinned beneath dark glasses as his sudden musical outburst aborted the pending fight scene. Both the rude young man and the aggressive, slightly older man let their hostilities slip away, and each even managed a smile at the nighttime curbside concert.
The guitar man’s cat, leashed and sitting regally on a small square of carpet near him, had been looking from face to face, then scooted himself back down into a scruffy bunch of fluff when the onlookers calmed and the music played.
But the cat was the first to look up, following two swiveling ears that had reacted first.
The cat was the first to hear a woman’s screams as she rocketed toward them.
The blind musician looked up next, then the crowd, everyone craning their necks to watch a body somewhat clothed in a stylish dress, still wearing heels, and with a cloud of snapping black hair racing toward the canopy roof beside them.
All watched in silence as Scarlet’s scream emptied her lungs, and she became as quiet as the onlookers. But her impact, ripping and shattering through the canvas and supporting structure, drowned out even the car engines.
Her fateful flight was fast but not fast enough to send her completely through. One of her ankles caught a loop of power cord as every part of her got sliced and gouged, and she jerked to an abrupt stop, hanging from that one snagged leg.
Only her hair, carrying bits of debris but otherwise looking quite photogenic, appropriate for an anniversary dinner out with her husband, touched the sidewalk.
And only the cat had eyes sharp enough to watch beads of blood tracing paths along strands of hair to begin forming a small, shiny pool.
Muted, the standing audience and the seated blind musician and his cat all watched as Scarlet’s lifeless body spun slowly one way, then the other, then back again.
With each pass, her dead, blank eyes studied them before scanning either the street or the building wall. The wind from falling had failed to restore her dress to any level of dignity, and her free leg, unhindered by any of the canopy’s construction, pointed nearly straight out to the side.
“Holy shit,” said the guitar man, standing and watching Scarlet spin.
“Hey,” said the punk. “Not so fucking blind anymore?”
He only waved to be left alone as he stared over his glasses at the spectacle.
“Wade, help her down!”
He laughed and said, “Uh, Ginny, it’s kind of late to help her with anything.”
“Well?” said the street punk. “Play some fucking music, at least!”
He got his guitar ready as he focused on the young man sneering at him and said, “Least I could do.”
“Since you’re not fucking blind anyway. Shit, we should all get refunds.”
“You little fucker. Ever hear of performance art?”
“You’re lame. Just a fucking phony.”
He shrugged and said, “Well, fuck. It’s a living. Sure, I’ll play for you, you greasy little prick.”
He looked around at his audience, most of whom were still staring in shock at dead Scarlet, and said, “For all of you,” then began a very familiar tune about a bell dinging and donging and a witch being dead.
“Hey,” said Wade, “maybe show some respect, huh?”
He smirked and said, “It’ll cost you.”
Ginny fished out a few bills, mumbled, “Bastard,” and hurried to drop them into his bucket. When her hand was close enough, the cat hissed and swiped at it.
“Jesus. Nice cat.”
“He can see that those are only singles,” the man said with a grin.
“Yeah, so can you,” said Wade. “What a fake fucker. Play, dammit.”
“Sure. Why the fuck not?”
He grinned, still meeting as many eyes as he could, and strummed out a tune about someone knocking on Heaven’s door.
“That’s funny,” said the punk. “You’re a funny fucker.”
He only grinned and boosted his strumming.
Wade snorted out a loud laugh, looking from the punk, to the guitar player, quickly at the cat, then lingering at the sight of Scarlet, hanging upside down and still spinning slowly.
“More like Hell’s door,” he said.
Ginny gave him a sharp elbow.
“No, really,” he said. “She was headed straight for Hell. Like a goddamn bullet.”
“Yeah,” said the punk. “All she had to do was punch a hole in that fucking sidewalk. She gave it her best fucking shot.”
Wade looked straight up, pointed, and said, “She tried. She picked the highest fucking—wait, did you see that?”
Most of them looked up, and the punk said, “Uh-oh. More falling corpses?”
He got elbowed, and his buddy said, “Dude, she wasn’t a corpse till she hit.”
“How do you know that?”
“Look at her. She was up there getting fucked, I’d bet.”
“Yeah, looks like it. But plenty of people fuck dead bodies. It happens more often than—”
“She’s still smiling. Sort of. Nympho dead bitch.”
“No, things just look different when a bitch is hanging upside down.”
“Oh, yeah. Probably. I mean, even both of her—”
“Shut up, you idiots!” said Wade. “There were some big fucking wings up there. You didn’t see that?”
“Birds. Dude, birds are everywhere.”
“It wasn’t a goddamn bird. Too fucking big.”
The punk smirked, then looked at the formerly blind musician until he looked up at him.
“Hey, blind man. Know any songs about giant birds fucking hot dead chicks on a Chinatown roof, then trying to shoot them straight to Hell?”
“Yeah, you little shit. I wrote a shitload of them last week about exactly that. How much time you got?”
“Only this one?”
“This time,” said the first bat, and it worked its wings enough to draw itself and Daniel away from the roof’s edge. “No dead ones.”
“Can’t work. Yeah.”
Daniel, hanging with one unyielding hand around his neck, had kicked and swung his arms and watched Scarlet fall. The bat had allowed him to watch her strike near the street, almost disappearing without a sound so far below them. Then, it had jerked him back, pumped its wings, and lifted him higher.
His clean dress shoes sometimes scraped across the gravel but mostly, the bat kept him high enough to not make even that sound. His zipper was still down, but he was showing far less enthusiasm than when Scarlet was moaning and masturbating for him and telling him what she absolutely loved. Grasping with both hands at the much larger one around his neck left him no chance of hiding it away and zipping up.
Looking ahead, he saw moonlight glinting on the fractured metal housing of a ventilation duct cap. The large unit’s sides were peeled back, torn and jagged, and the blackness inside was absolute.
“Hate this.”
“Yeah. Tight.”
The bat carrying Daniel tucked its wings and wiggled through the opening, then pulled its captive in too. Keeping its wings folded tight, it began scraping its way downward, claws scratching against the damaged steel sides of a square tube leading down from the roof.
The other bat followed, sometimes snorting and cussing.
“Tired of hiding.”
“Yeah. Should just hunt.”
“Not hide.”
“Not.”
Daniel led the way, with a grip on him loose enough that he could breathe and pray in a constant, desperate mumble. The shaft seemed to go on forever, and he could barely groan out a protest whenever he got banged against the sidewall, sometimes ripping clothes and skin if sharp edges were lined up just right.
They continued dropping, long bat claws fighting for traction, oily wings folded, scraping, and a human held tight. On and on, through total darkness. Daniel showed no signs of bravery, letting tears flow and fighting for every breath.
“Fuck,” said the trailing bat. “Finally.”
Straining against the leather glove almost choking the life out of him, Daniel tipped his head enough to see the faintest of orange glows. It was just a pinpoint, like a star in the sky but in the wrong direction. And the wrong color.
With a heavy thump, Daniel’s bat landed and blasted an aggravated snort. He heard the thing spread its wings, but he was still dangling above emptiness with a dim orange glow some unknown distance farther down.
He heard the other bat land and groan as it spread its wings too.
“Fuck. Home.”
“Yeah. Go.”
The second bat became a tangled shadow with its wings compact at its sides. It sometimes hid the orange and sometimes circled around in it as its size decreased from its rapid descent.
“Hate this crack.”
It waited, but Daniel couldn’t answer.
“We go.”
But Daniel could hold his breath, what little he had, as he and his bat began a freefall, their speed increasing rapidly as they pursued the other bat. As the orange glow grew, he could see that they were spiraling down through a rock passageway. Jagged walls were close front and back but to the sides, there was only darkness.
The first bat through the rocky passage begin whooshing its wings and seconds later, the rock walls flying past them ended. Daniel’s bat laughed as they fell for a few seconds before it gave its wings a start.
The sudden slowing nearly removed Daniel’s head, but the bat seemed to know how much a human could withstand without getting ruined during transport.
The scorched air billowed up in waves, wedging around Daniel’s eyes, under the lids, and his tears dripped away toward fires far below them. Still, he tried to look in every direction as his heart gave a strong reminder that he was still alive.
A world shrouded in black sprawled out below them as the two bats hovered high up, close to the rock ceiling and its crack that led to a basement and an abandoned ventilation shaft in a tall Chinatown building.
Directly below them, too distant to see any real detail, a maze of haphazard streets divided old buildings into silent groupings, some with a few lights in windows and others with small fires burning on their roofs.
Straight ahead of them, the dark city met its end where a slick black plain flooded out farther. Far beyond that, a wide fire raged, and black dots circled all around it.
“Go,” said the other bat.
“Yeah. Buckets.”
“Two.”
“Two.”
Both bats maneuvered themselves to face all three of them the other way, and Daniel tipped his head up enough to point his watering eyes that way.
Not far in the distance, the city with its buildings and fires abutted a shoreline. And beyond that, there was only fire.
A sea of fire, stretching as far as he could see.
And the bats were taking him there, flying below the jagged rock ceiling and high above a dark and desolate city.
Chapter 4 – Like a Delicacy, I’d Say
Without clumps of her thick black hair as a cushion, Scarlet would have felt the coarse stone floor of the alley against the delicate skin of her cheek. She lay facedown several paces from the street, wearing the same dress and same low heels, and her arms were straight along her sides.
She moved her fingers first, just those on her left hand, and touched a filmy warm liquid there. She let them rest then tried her right hand, and sliding the fingers from side to side moved them easily on the rough but lubricated surface.
With a modest groan, she reached around with both hands and found some of where she lay to be slick and other places dry. Her hair tickled her nose, and she snorted weakly, trying to move it aside, but that minimal action had no effect. It was trapped.
“Oh, God, where am I?”
Lifting her head, then opening her eyes, didn’t help at all. All she saw was night as if her eyes were still shut tight.
And all she heard was a buzzing so low that it could have gone unnoticed.
There was nothing to see, but the sound of footsteps somewhere behind her got her lungs to lock up, and she lay still, listening.
The steps, some of them splashing and others only clopping, got louder then began to fade.
Groaning again, she fought herself up onto her feet and bumped into a brick wall, which she confirmed by patting it all around. Then, she put her back to it and looked first to her left, then to her right.
And she saw very dim light like through a doorway. She took a step toward it, then froze and pressed her back against the wall again.
Something large, easily twice her height and much longer, had begun lumbering from right to left, crossing that opening, a thing thick and smooth and snorting softly. In the faint light, it appeared black. Slick and black.
She caught her breath and stared as three more followed after it.
Their sharp footfalls on the brick pavement dwindled as the small pack meandered away, and Scarlet stayed frozen and fought to calm her breaths.
When that area with the only light that she could see had stayed quiet for a while, she ventured toward it again.
She reached out and felt the sharp edge of the brick wall and held it as she leaned out just enough to see what part of San Francisco was out there.
All she saw was a narrow, barely visible street lined with tall dark buildings. Looking up, she saw that only a few of the many windows housed some kind of light, as if it were so late at night that everyone was asleep.
“What zoo did those come from?” she mumbled to herself.
More footsteps were approaching. The sound of running. Desperate running, coming from the left.
Scarlet ducked back into the shadows and watched a shabby older man running past, sometimes looking behind him, and wheezing from the effort.
The sound of his steps hadn’t diminished any before the beasts she’d seen before—big and oily black and snorting—charged after him.
“Oh, God, what is this?” she whispered.
She heard a scream and more frantic running mixed in with the sound of durable hooves striking the bricks.
Another scream. Louder.
And no more steps of any kind.
Just deep grunting and growling and fighting somewhere down the street.
“Don’t look, Scarlet. Just don’t.”
She did look and saw the tail ends of two of the escaped beasts, both jostling for position, bumping into each other and snorting gleefully.
One reared and turned its head, and what could have been a human arm dangled from its jaws.
Scarlet retreated farther into the shadows, muttering quietly, “No, no, no! What the hell is this?”
Her chest rose and fell, and she found no way to stop it. Those breaths needed to rush in, then even more quickly back out.
The sound of a bone snapping—at least, it could have been that—came from the direction of the beasts and the fleeing man who hadn’t fled quickly enough.
“This can’t be happening. No, it just can’t!”
Tears began to gather, hot and thick, and they broke free to fight a tight course down her cheeks.
She rubbed at them with both hands, then gasped.
“My glasses! Where are they?”
She patted around and found only a dress without pockets, and no handbag was there to search.
A scared laugh began then died, and she nodded quickly and tried to laugh again, on command, but the tears didn’t give any ground.
“I didn’t see that right,” she said, still rubbing her eyes and shaking from a stifled sob. “That was something else. Not what I thought.”
With her arms at her sides, she kept tight against the wall and gazed toward the street.
“It couldn’t be what I thought. No, I didn’t see that!”
She sucked in a sharp breath as quietly as she could when something big and dark even against the darkness out there fell from above in a jerky pattern. What looked like a head, a silhouette of one, bobbed one way, then the other.
It jerked from side to side, then held still and made no sound. Seconds passed, then it hurried low, then high, then froze and stayed quiet.
Mouthing the words, “No, no, no!” Scarlet forced her eyes closed and leaned forward, letting her black hair have a chance at hiding anything that apparition might see.
She heard it snorting softly and held aside just enough of her hair to look.
From the thing’s sides, large parts of it were moving rhythmically up and down, even as the head continued to tip like a metronome. It drew in long breaths, then snorted them out quickly.
Hiding behind her thick hair again, she heard an angry, gravely voice say, “What? Something?”
The thing looking in relaxed, gave its dark appendages a decisive final flap, then grunted out, “Thought a human.”
The other said, “Hate humans.”
“Yeah. Eat, though.”
A gravely laugh, then a rough voice saying, “Good to eat. Yeah.”
Scarlet stayed hidden in the shadows and listened to what could only be massive wings being pounded against the stale, dark air. The sound of them leaving gave way to silence and faint buzzing only seconds later.
She looked up and confirmed that they—whatever they were—were gone.
The sobbing started before she could turn and press her face into the warm bricks and inhale their scent of oil.
And before she gave herself to a hearty cry, she hurried to fluff her hair up and around to hide her face as well as she could.
Then, she cried, with her palms flat against the wall. She cried a lot.
Quietly, though.
She’d been wiping across her cheek when she first heard the voices.
Somewhere out there, out on that street with its mysteries that she couldn’t have seen clearly without enough light or her eyeglasses, humans were approaching. She heard their voices.
A man and a woman.
They were talking pleasantly and sometimes laughing.
Scarlet inhaled sharply, chasing away the last sob, then wiped at each eye one more time before turning and walking quietly toward the street.
Again, she held the wall’s corner and looked left, then right, and she saw a couple approaching from the right.
Still mostly lost in the darkness but coming more into focus with every step, they walked easily, hand in hand.
“Hey!” she called out even before she’d stepped into the open. “Over here!”
“Oh, Isabella, look. A new arrival, I’d bet.”
“Jonas, Honey, you think you’re so fucking smart, but you don’t know squat. Maybe she lives around here.”
“Huh. Lives, you say? You know that can’t possibly make a damn bit of sense.”
Jonas waved as the couple drew near, then said, “Well, hello! What the hell brings you out along a dark street like this?”
“Hello. I, um, I think I’m kind of lost. What part of Chinatown is this?”
The couple looked at each other for a few seconds, then both smiled at Scarlet.
Isabella said, “Uh, maybe the lower end?”
Jonas blurted out a single loud laugh and said, “Good one, Honey. More like China Underground, though.”
“Even fucking better.”
She faced Scarlet and said, “I’m Isabella, and this son of a bitch is Jonas. What’s your name?”
“I’m Scarlet. I don’t know where I am. Can you give me some directions?”
Jonas cleared his throat, grinned, then said, “Take off your dress. How’s that for some goddamn directions?”
He got a sharp elbow from Isabella, who said, “Honey, shame on you, you dirty fucker.”
To Scarlet, she said, “At least he started that last word with a letter ‘d.’ Would have been more interesting without that first letter, though!”
“What?”
“Think about it!”
“Look,” said Scarlet, “I just want to—”
“Oh, I know,” Isabella said. “You don’t know where in Hell you are.”
“Uh, Chinatown, right? But what part of it?”
“Let’s give him another chance. Jonas, Honey, try again.”
Jonas nodded, maintained a silly grin, and said, “Up is way better than down.”
“He’s right,” said Isabella. “But I think he’s mostly thinking about ‘going down.’”
She chopped him again with an elbow, and Scarlet noticed, even in the faint light, that the skin on her arm kind of sloshed around for a second, even though she didn’t appear overweight.
“She’s just looking for an excuse to talk about sexual types of things,” said Jonas. “I love that about her.”
“He loves a lot of things about me. Oh, the things I do for him.”
“To me, you mean. You do all kinds of things to me. Some are fucking mean!”
Scarlet had been looking from one gaunt face to the other, listening to them chattering on, until they stopped and focused on her again.
“Oh, my dear,” said Isabella, “you have a little bit of crude there on your pretty cheeks. Let me.”
She took a step closer, and Scarlet let the woman reach out and lightly touch under her eyes, wiping both ways. Then, she wiped more. And yet more.
“Um, I think maybe that’s good. Thanks,” said Scarlet. “Um, I really could just use some directions, you know? I don’t even see any street signs.”
Jonas snickered and said, “Not much sign of life either, huh?”
“What?”
“Never mind him. He’s a joker. Well, Scarlet, Sweety, you sure can’t navigate by the stars.”
Scarlet looked up and for the first time, she saw nothing but solid black. Not gray like cloud cover. Just black. And no stars.
“Dark clouds?” she said. “That’s why?”
Isabella roared out a hearty laugh and said, “Yeah. You just go with that. For as long as you fucking can. It’ll help keep that pretty head together.”
“She does have a pretty head,” said Jonas. “Pretty. Good head for head.”
Isabella tipped her own head, studying Scarlet, and said, “Hmm. Maybe even prettier when not together.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Jonas. “Pretty head not together. We should find out.”
Isabella grinned at Scarlet and said, “He’s always planning ahead, this one.”
“Ha! A head!”
“Um, look,” said Scarlet. “I think I’m taking too much of your time. Can you just point toward Chinatown?”
Jonas chuckled and said, “My thing is already pointing that way. I can show you. God damn, I want to show you. Let me just—”
His reaching for his zipper got stopped by a grab of his arm by Isabella.
“He’s joking, dear Scarlet.”
“No, I’m not. I’m, uh . . . really pointing. Hardly pointing too. Oh, boy. Oh, yeah.”
“We don’t get too many fresh ones here,” said Isabella. “You’re new, right? Just arrived?”
“Is that like coming?”
She elbowed him again and kept grinning at Scarlet.
Scarlet said, “I think I might—”
“How was her skin, Isabella? Was it soft? It looks soft. I like soft. Even though I’m almost always so—”
A sharp elbow to his gut forced him to wheeze out, not leaving enough air to finish that thought.
“Yes, Jonas. She has very nice skin. It’s really quite exquisite. Like a delicacy, I’d say.”
“I’d say that too.”
“Um, Chinatown? Please?”
“That’s, um, going to be a bit of a problem because,”—she turned her eyes down to examine Scarlet’s legs, not much of them visible beneath the hem of her modest dress—“ooh, looks like good muscle tone too.”
“I like muscles. That’s second best. Not my first choice. Guess my first choice, Isabella. Guess it!”
“You’re being crazy, Jonas. I damn well know your first choice. Same as mine, right? You’d know if you had any brains at all to—”
“Ha!”
“Look, really!” said Scarlet. “If you don’t know, you can just say so. It’s fine. I’ll—”
“You need Mortimer. He’s kind of like our lead fucker around here. Maybe he can help.”
Jonas snickered and said, “Help himself, more likely.”
Isabella said, more quietly, “Horny old goat.”
Scarlet coughed and said, “Where’s this Mortimer at?”
Isabella grinned over at Jonas, who tried without success to stifle a deep laugh.
“She’s just setting them up, isn’t she?”
Jonas said, “Oh my, yes. Shall I?”
“I’d rather. Allow me.”
Isabella reached out and caressed Scarlet’s cheek, looked her in the eye, and said, “He’s coming. He’s almost always coming!”
And Isabella didn’t laugh until Jonas laughed. They both laughed.
And Isabella kept helping herself to the soft skin until Scarlet took two quick steps back.
Chapter 5 – No Pay for Dead Flesh, Dammit
“Hey,” said the bat without human cargo. “Don’t kill.”
“Want to.”
“Yeah. Don’t.”
“Alright.”
He switched his grip to hold Daniel under his arms, allowing him to cough and suck in as much of the hot air as he could.
“Maybe it talks.”
“Too stupid.”
“What the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on?”
“It talks.”
“Hate humans.”
“Where am I? Oh God, take me back! Please!”
The bat shook Daniel around, laughed about it, then said, “Could drop.”
“Don’t. Need for trade.”
“No, don’t drop me! Good God, what is this place?”
Several long moments passed with only the sound of heavy wings flapping against the still air.
“Don’t know,” said one.
“You know?” said the other while shaking Daniel around.
“No, I fucking don’t! Am I dead? Is this Hell?”
Daniel looked up enough to see his bat turn its large, scaly head to look at its companion flying close by.
“Could be,” it said.
“No,” said the other. “Below, maybe.”
“Yeah. More below.”
“This is some kind of fucking nightmare. God, I have to wake up. Please, just let me—”
A loud boom cracked the darkness and echoed off of the ceiling and the ground, then raced past them and toward the endless burning sea.
“Hate that.”
“Hate wind.”
“Because fly.”
“Hard to.”
“Yeah. Hurry.”
Daniel felt claws sinking through clothing and skin as the thing’s powerful hands tightened their grip.
Then, both of the beasts beat their wings, picking up speed and hurtling them toward the fiery ocean.
“Almost.”
“Hurry. Reactor safe.”
Daniel sucked in a deep breath as they all began a sudden freefall, and he saw, near the fires, a cluster of dimly lit buildings with patchy pools of smooth black surrounding them.
They swooped so low over a chain link fence that he screamed and lifted his legs, narrowly escaping having them shredded from his body.
“Don’t rip,” said the companion bat.
“Won’t. Much.”
Daniel’s carrier bat sailed low, dragging his feet across the gravel lot and tearing off one of his shoes.
“Could just eat.”
“No. Trade.”
“Fatter.”
“Fatter. Buckets tastier.”
The wind came up from behind them in a hot, violent squall just as Daniel was carried and sometimes dragged through a wide, low opening into a dark, empty building. He groaned when the claws released him, and he was already too low to the ground to fall.
But with each tumble, sharp little stones dug themselves in. And his final slide pushed a few in deeper.
He lay there bleeding, eyes welded shut, without even a sob to clutter up his shallow breathing.
Until two sets of claws pinched into his ribs and lifted him up.
Daniel’s feet, one torn and missing a shoe, dragged along the cracked linoleum of a hallway in one of the reactor buildings. Even with their wings tucked back, the two bats walked one behind the other, and Daniel’s legs were the farthest back.
“Alive?”
“Enough.”
They rounded a corner, and Daniel didn’t resist his battered legs banging when they bumped a wall as they made the turn. He got dragged a few more steps, then dropped facedown when the forks jabbing into his sides released him.
A low humming and comfortable, constant vibration of the floor gave him no reason to try moving. Even the smell of burning oil, like from hundreds of old lamps, seemed welcoming, but the unmistakable stench of rotting bodies mingled with the soot, choking him.
A disinterested human voice, raspy and scratchy, spoke nearby.
“Is he alive?”
A bat said, “Enough.”
“Fucker. I’ll be the judge of that.”
A modest kick from a hard boot caught Daniel’s already bleeding side.
“Hey. Dead or alive? I’m not paying these fuckers for dead flesh. No pay for dead flesh, dammit.”
Daniel turned his head some, opened his eyes, and met the inquisitive stare of a tortured, oil-stained face.
His hard hat carried its own smears and streaks, and denim coveralls, that long ago could have been blue, bulged in odd places. His tired eyes stared down at Daniel as he smirked.
“Close enough,” he said, then poked stained, mangled fingers around up under his helmet.
Daniel groaned and rested his head, then let his eyes snap shut as the odd crowd bantered around him.
“Try to keep them more alive, will you? You fuckers.”
“Hate humans.”
“Me too, now. Straight fucking humans, I mean—they think they’re better than the rest of us. Still, we need to squeeze some useful work out of these fuckers before they expire.”
“Funny. Expire.”
“I’ll give you one goddamn bucket, and you two fuckers can split it.”
“Bucket each.”
“He’s almost dead, this goddamn straight fucking human.”
“Hate humans.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that. Like a fucking million goddamn times, so save it, you fucker. One bucket.”
“Large.”
The workman nudged Daniel with his boot, trying to roll him over, but that wasn’t enough. So, he kicked him, getting only a groan. He kept kicking until the bruised and bloody man rolled over onto his back.
“Uh, that’s not exactly large,” he said, pointing at Daniel’s open fly and what he’d never even thought to hide back away. “Not now.”
“Was.”
“Was with human female.”
“Yeah. She wanted fucking.”
“Was bigger then.”
“Was going to fuck her.”
“You fuckers. So what? We’re not running some kind of stud farm breeding operation here. Strong backs—that’s what we want. He could have a monster cock and unless he can shovel dirt with it, it’s useless to us. Got that? One fucking bucket.”
“Two.”
“One, dammit.”
“Big.”
“Big bucket.”
“Oh, fine, you fucking goddamn bat freaks. Next time, try beating a little less fucking shit out of the guy, alright?”
“Hate humans.”
Daniel heard “You guys” as the reactor worker turned and walked away.
A few seconds later, he heard him returning, and the bats laughed in a low, calmly aggressive way.
“Big? Not.”
“Bigger. Or two.”
“It’s fucking big enough. You take just this one or you can just bring this beat up fucker outside and eat him instead.”
“Entrails.”
“Yeah, that’s right. The entire bucket is entrails. You like that, don’t you?”
“Good.”
“Tasty.”
“So, we have a deal? More entrails in that bucket than in this fucker?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Pick that fucker up first.”
Daniel groaned as two sets of sharp nails poked him like a baked potato and stood him up. They held on long enough for him to prove that he wouldn’t collapse, then they backed away.
He opened his eyes and gazed without comment at the man who had just traded a bucket of entrails for him.
Beyond the oily man, he saw two pairs of giant black wings, folded and tilting from side to side as the laughing bats hiked away and carried their bucket toward the outside.
“If you have a name,” he said to Daniel, “just forget it. You’re done with that bullshit.”
Daniel looked down and saw that when the man had gone for the bucket of slop, he’d also brought back a shovel.
“But you will need this. Except for all the cuts and scrapes and bruising and broken bones and—oh, shit, what good are you? Can you still fucking work, or should we move this train wreck along and just incinerate you?”
“I can work. I . . . can work.”
“You’re just filling me up with confidence. Alright, fine. We’ll give you a try. I, myself, think those fucking bats beat all the good work out of you. But fine, let’s get you going.”
“Where am I?”
“At the reactor. We’re the sons of bitches that actually try to keep this giant evil machine running. It isn’t easy, let me tell you.”
“A reactor? Uh, but where? What happened to—I was in San Francisco, and—”
“Yeah, with some woman that wanted to get fucked, so I hear. Funny. Now, look at you. Beat to shit and about to shovel dirt over some goddamn evil radioactive crap.”
Daniel only stared, shaking his head slowly.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s not so fucking funny. But that’s—shit, I almost said ‘life.’ Imagine that.”
He turned and took a few steps, then stopped and faced Daniel again.
“Two things,” he said, holding up one full finger and one missing most of it.
He saw Daniel glance quickly at his hand, so he lowered it.
“Forget the fingers. Really, two complete things. One: follow close and don’t stray off whatever fucking path I walk. Got it?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. But just where the hell is—”
“Two! For God’s sake, pull up that fucking zipper unless you’re planning on fucking someone or something.”
The man laughed while Daniel looked down, then fought with his zipper. But he looked back up when the man continued.
“Or maybe you’ll be looking for some head. Yeah, that might be it. You might get lucky and get head from two. Imagine that. And that would all be from just one mutated fucking thing where you’re going.”
Daniel’s mouth quivered, but he didn’t speak.
“No, don’t even think about it. I know it sounds good. But anything with two heads, giving you head, or heads, is most likely just scheming to bite your fucking balls off.”
He turned and walked away, whistling a happy tune.
Daniel swallowed hard, held the shovel in one hand and his crotch in the other, and hurried after a man who had a large lump moving around under the loose fabric of his oily denim work clothes.
The man leading the procession of two stopped abruptly, and his whistling stopped five seconds later. Then, he turned to look at Daniel.
“I’m Willie. My brain is fried.”
Daniel tipped his head and stared without answering.
“Maybe like fried rice.”
He grinned and pointed at Daniel and said, “But don’t be getting the idea that you’re going to crack open this melon and dip an oily spoon in there for some. Oh, no. They need me here. I have value.”
He turned to resume the walk, then stopped again, causing Daniel to bump into the lump on his back.
“I have value not just as a tasty snack, I mean. My fried rice works just good enough to hand out shovels to new guys like you. Got your shovel?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Got your fucking shovel?” he yelled.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Calmly, he said, “Let’s march.”
He led Daniel through a maze of hallways and down many flights of stairs, and the temperature climbed with every descent. Through open doorways, in unlit rooms and corridors, wailing and screams and hideous laughter competed with the grinding of gears and whining of powerful motors.
Before passing through what looked like a hatch on a submarine, Willie stopped him.
“It was the radiation that did it. It’s got a funny fucking way of cooking things on the inside. Like my heaping serving of fried rice stored away up top. I swear on the God of bats that—hey, you suppose those bat friends of yours have a god?”
“My, my friends?”
“I’m just being stupid. They’re probably not your absolute best friends. I mean, you only just met somewhere up there,”—he pointed up and bounced his eyebrows—“when you was about to fuck some living human woman. She was living, right?”
“Huh? Yeah, she was—”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with fucking a dead one. Oh, no. You won’t hear that from me. Even if she was dead, and even if she had noodles for brains, fried or not, and even if—wait, was it noodles or rice?”
Daniel shook with his sobbing, and his shovel clattered to the oily concrete floor.
“Rice,” Daniel said.
“What?”
“Rice! Fried fucking rice!”
Willie blasted out a sharp laugh and said, “Anger isn’t very becoming, you know. You got to learn to roll with the punches here because—wait, maybe it’s burn with the radiation. Yeah, that’s it. Learn to burn with the waves. They come in fast, all hot and ornery.”
Daniel rubbed his eyes with both hands and shook silently.
“Aw, there, there, young fellow. I was just being silly. It’s kind of all I have left. Look, I was just kidding around. Oh, shit. I forgot all about the goddamn bats and if they have a goddamn god or not.”
Daniel wiped at his eyes and got his sobbing under control.
“That was funny. A goddamn god. How could a god be a goddamn god? That’s some serious self-loathing from a goddish goddamn god type of thing. See? Isn’t that alone worth your scary, freaky ride here?”
“What? Huh?”
“It’s all about the radiation, son. It cooks, it burns, it rattles things around. Mostly, though, it’s got a fucked up imagination, and it sure does like to experiment with shit.”
“It, it has imagination?”
“Nah, no way. Don’t believe every fucked up thing some blasted fool tells you. Oh no, it’s worse than that. It’s random as fuck. It does things even a goddamn god would never think of. If the god had a brain. A fried one.”
“What? What the hell are you—”
“Frying is easy. Growing fun shit is the real adventure. There’s no telling what any one of us is about to grow next.”
“Grow? Huh?”
“Yeah, young man! Like that floppy sausage you had hanging out just a second ago. Want another? Huh? Oh, hey, maybe it’ll puff up like a bloated dirigible leading a goddamn parade! How about that, huh?”
“What are you talking about? What’s wrong with you?”
“It isn’t me, kid. Goddamn radiation. Do you feel it? You’re already sponging it up. It’s some goddamn awful evil stuff too. I seriously don’t know what the fuck this place is. Do you?”
Willie stared and waited for an answer.
“Uh, I mean . . . what?”
“Never mind. No one knows. Can’t be Hell, though. Even Hell has higher standards than to take in the kind of outrageous freaks packed into this hellhole. Not Hell—just a hellhole. Huh. That’s kind of funny too. Imagine a goddamn god living in a hellhole that’s not actually Hell. No, it’s something fucking different. But hey, there’s work to be done.”
“What . . . why? Can’t I just—”
“Can’t you just go back to fucking the dead babe with roasted macaroni for brains? That it? No, young man, no! Let’s get your ass to work!”
Sobbing again, Daniel picked up his shovel and followed after Willie.
Who had resumed whistling a very pleasant tune.
Chapter 6 – Orgasming Your Brains Out
“I, um, think my eyes are okay now. Thanks.”
“Nonsense. Even in the dark, I can still see a few stubborn smudges. A little rubbing will do it.”
“Always works on me,” Jonas said with a satisfied groan.
“Never mind him.”
Scarlet watched Isabella closely and saw that her eyes were roaming all over her face, then she reached out again, and Scarlet took another step back.
“No, really. Thanks. I, um, think I need to talk with Mortimer, then.”
“He really is coming,” said Jonas. “Like, way more often than you’d—”
“Shh!” said Isabella. “Hear that?”
In the still air, on the deserted street full of wrecked and abandoned buildings, the sounds of approaching tapping and scuffling and scraping carried over the incessant low buzzing. Isabella held a hand up as they all stayed still and listened.
“Boars,” said Jonas in a weak whisper. “Maybe it’s those goddamn—”
“No,” said Isabella. “Those things have hooves. They clatter when they’re hunting in the city.”
“I saw them!” Scarlet said, straining out her whisper. “I thought I was imagining them. They’re huge.”
“Big heads,” Jonas said while holding his belly with one hand. “And you know what that means.”
“We’ve tried, Honey. Even when we swarm them, they’re too strong and oily. We can never even get close to cracking open one of—”
“It sounds like people,” said Scarlet. “Maybe it’s Mortimer?”
“Oh, it sure could be Mortimer.”
Jonas scoffed and said, “Not exactly people, though.”
Scarlet stared at Isabella, who only nodded, then she squinted at Jonas, who shrugged.
The footfalls grew louder, and they watched a small band of jovial people appearing out of the darkness and coming their way. Leading them was a kindly looking older man in a long white shirt, not tucked in and hanging like a grease-stained lab coat. Atop his head was a teased-up mound of wavy hair, pointed in every direction as if he’d dragged his fingers through it constantly but not enough to remove globs of thickening crude.
When they’d gotten close enough, he stopped his small horde and stared at Scarlet and her companions through small round glasses that magnified the size of his eyes.
He gave his unruly hair another poke, then a scratch, then said, “Well, what do we have here?”
“She’s new,” said Isabella.
“Fresh,” said Jonas. “Very fresh.”
“New and fresh—just what we need here.”
He tipped his head and focused on Scarlet.
“I’m Mortimer. Welcome to . . . uh, where we are. Right here. And you are?”
“I’m Scarlet. Like I was telling them, I’m just kind of lost. This is a part of Chinatown that I never—”
“Oh, dear me! No, fresh and new Scarlet. No, this isn’t Chinatown.”
While he was smoothing down his hair and adjusting his glasses on his nose, many pairs of eyes stared at Scarlet from each side of him, some leaning to look over his shoulders.
Grinning, Mortimer added, “Close, but no cigar, as they say.”
“I never say that.”
“Shh, Jonas,” said Isabella. “Don’t interrupt him.”
Mortimer slid his backpack off of the shoulder where it was looped and set it next to his leg. Several in his group did the same with theirs.
“No. Not Chinatown. Never heard buzzing in Chinatown, did you?”
They all stayed quiet, watching Scarlet as she turned her head, listening to the soft buzzing that seemed to come from everywhere around her.
“What is that?” she said.
“Right now,” said Mortimer, “that’s something you probably need to keep hearing. Am I right?”
He turned each way, smiling at the others laughing and nodding.
He kicked at his backpack and said, “We’re out setting these mobile units up, trying to hook them into the power grid.”
“What? I don’t know what any of you are talking about.”
“All you need to know, fresh Scarlet, is that buzzing is good. You want that buzzing.”
“I don’t,” said a woman off to one side. “I’m itching for some crazy.”
The man next to her fluffed up her matted hair and said, “You’re itching for way more than that.”
“Please,” said Mortimer, “you’re getting my brain off its tracks.”
“That’s funny,” said Isabella. “Your fucking brain.”
Mortimer cleared his throat, then focused again on Scarlet.
“Scarlet, my dear,” said Mortimer, “it’s probably best if you forget all about that goddamn Chinatown. Whatever memories you have of that place are just—”
Scarlet groaned and leaned over, crossing her arms over her belly, shaking a couple of times then standing back up.
“Oh my God. I remember. I remember what happened. As soon as you said ‘memories,’ it came back.”
Mortimer took a few steps closer to her, and his very interested troupe stumbled to form a half-circle around her.
“You made me remember. I don’t know how. Oh, God, what is this?”
Mortimer looked down at Scarlet’s hands still against her midsection, then back up at her eyes.
“Soft flesh, I’d wager.”
“I’m not betting against that,” someone behind him said.
“Soft and fleshy. Oh, very fleshy,” said another, then Mortimer held a hand up, silencing them.
Scarlet snapped her hands down to her sides.
“What is it that you remember, dear Scarlet?”
“I fell. I fell off of a building!”
Mortimer smirked and said, “Come on, now. We all know it takes more than some simple kind of dying. No, Scarlet. We already know.”
He looked to each side repeatedly, saying, “Don’t we? Don’t we all fucking know?”
“Fuck, yeah! We know!” said a woman to Mortimer’s left.
A man to his right said, “Shit, yeah! We know it had something to do with your—”
Mortimer shot his hand up, got them quiet, then focused on Scarlet with a genial smile.
“Something to do with your . . . pussy.”
“What?” she said. “What are you talking about? I was on the roof, and I . . .”
Scarlet paused, squinting at many of the eager faces around her.
“Mm-hmm. Go on,” Isabella said as she moved to stand beside her.
She slipped an arm around her waist and said, “Tell us what you were doing on that roof.”
“I, uh, it was our anniversary, and we—”
“We, who?” said someone farther back.
“Two of you? Three? Dammit, more than three?”
“It was a goddamn orgy!” a woman said as she held Mortimer’s shoulders and grinned past him at Scarlet. “You had yourself a sexy, perverted fuck fest orgy on the roof!”
Scarlet pulled free of Isabella’s arm and said, “No! Just my husband! He wanted to—”
“Fuck you,” Mortimer said, nodding calmly. “Of course. Anyone would, with all that new, fresh flesh of yours.”
“Won’t be fresh forever,” said a large character two rows back.
“He does have a good point,” said a shorter man near him. “Clock’s ticking.”
“That’s just stupid. There aren’t any fucking—”
“Stop, stop, stop!” yelled Mortimer. “All of you! Where are your goddamn manners?”
A voice came from the back, saying, “We left them in Chinatown!”
“Ignore them,” Mortimer said to Scarlet. “Now, tell us what you were doing. This husband of yours was fucking you, wasn’t he?”
“No! Look, all of you, I just want to—”
“Yes, you want to keep fucking him. Any one of us would too. Well, you can’t. That fucking is what got you here for us to—”
“No, I told you—he wasn’t making love to me!”
No one spoke, and only a low, disapproving murmur came from many of them.
“That language,” said Mortimer, shaking his head. “That’ll never do. Use the word, ‘fuck.’ Go on. Say it right.”
Scarlet looked around at all of the grim faces, then said, “He, um, he wasn’t . . . fucking me.”
Mortimer got a big smile and said, “There. We like that so much better. Always talk dirty, Scarlet. Always! Okay, so who was fucking you, then?”
“No one!”
“How many were fucking you? Huh? One after another after―”
Jonas snickered and yelled, “Someone was doing something!”
Isabella had closed the distance again quietly, and she got her arm back around Scarlet’s waist.
“He is so right. Something fun was going on with your pussy. Who was having all that fun? With your pussy?”
Scarlet, near tears, turned to look at Isabella, who only bounced her eyebrows a few times.
“I,” she said, “I, uh, I was.”
“Oh, sweet!” yelled Mortimer. “Yes, that’s nice. That’s really nice. Say it. Say it for us.”
“What?”
“Look,” said Mortimer, “we know this is all kind of unsettling for you. It would be for any human.”
Scarlet looked around at many nodding their heads.
“But we do so love to hear it. We want the words. Say it right, and we’ll move on to whatever else you want to discuss.”
“He means it,” said a man in back.
“Okay. Fine. Um, I was, uh, masturbating because my husband—”
“That word lacks so many important details,” said Mortimer. “It just glosses over all of the tastiest parts. Try again.”
“He said ‘tasty!’” yelled a man from the small crowd.
“I was, um, touching my—”
“Through your dress?”
“Well, no. I, uh, lifted it up.”
“Show us.”
“What? Why would I—”
“Oh, okay. Just tell us, then. Details, Scarlet!”
“Okay. I, uh, lifted up my dress, then I—”
“Did you go right for your pussy? Just like that?”
Mortimer turned to look behind him and said, “She’s doing fine, Wesley. Let her talk.”
Facing Scarlet again, he said, “Please. Continue. Oh, he does have a good point, though. Did you give yourself a little foreplay?”
Voices all around him hooted and hollered.
“What’s wrong with all of you?”
Jonas shrugged and said, “We’re horny as fuck.”
Scarlet felt a tighter squeeze around her waist and turned to Isabella, who said, “Like you can’t fucking believe.”
She broke free of the embrace and took two steps away.
“Okay, fine. I, um, touched my thighs first. Then—”
“Then, your pussy?”
“Yes! Dammit, yes, I touched my pussy! It was just for my husband.”
“Touched it a lot?”
Scarlet looked down and said, “Enough. Yeah.”
“Then, you fell? While you were orgasming your brains out?”
“Yeah.”
Someone said, “Her brain came out? That’s all it takes?”
Mortimer said, “Hush. Figure of speech.”
“I’m trying that next time,” said someone else.
“Hey!” said Mortimer. “Now, Scarlet, you understand as much about this fucked up place as we do.”
“Huh? What do I understand?”
“You died in an orgasm. That’s the ticket here. Must have been one hell of an orgasm too.”
“What? Why?”
“It lasted while you fell . . . how far?”
“Um, pretty far. Okay, yeah. It was a good one.”
“Hey, how did you fall?”
“I, uh . . .”
She winced and held her belly again.
“Oh, God. I forgot about them. Those things.”
She sucked in a quick breath and looked all around, then up.
“They’re here too! God, those things are here too!”
“She means those greasy goddamn bats.”
“I agree. That fucker Demetrius is right.”
“Hush, everyone. Now, Scarlet, you’re saying that bats threw you off of the roof while you were touching your pussy?”
“Uh, kind of. They grabbed Daniel, and he—”
“He wasn’t fucking you, right?”
“Uh, no. He was watching, and they—”
“I’d watch that any day of the week.”
“Any minute of the day!”
“Enough. All of you,” said Mortimer. “Scarlet, this Daniel character, he wasn’t orgasming his brains out, was he?”
“Again with the brains,” said a young woman nearby. “Mortimer’s making me crazy.”
“And horny!” yelled someone farther back.
Mortimer kept a steady grin pointed at Scarlet and said to the group around him, “I do that on purpose, you know.”
“What is with you all?”
“Like any of us could fucking explain it, Scarlet. Okay, look, the bats took your husband if they didn’t kill him right there and eat him.”
“What? They eat people?”
“Gosh, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
They all got silent and stared at Scarlet, who stared back at them for a moment.
Mortimer continued.
“No, they brought him here. He’s probably not dead yet. Soon, though. That reactor. Hoo, boy. There’s some serious fucking frying that goes on there.”
“What? Daniel’s here? Where?”
“The reactor. It’s an evil thing, but it keeps the goddamn lights on.”
“Sometimes,” said Jonas. “Until it doesn’t.”
“Right,” said Mortimer. “And then, it switches off our fun little transmitters too. I need to find some other way than to tap into streetlights.”
He looked at Scarlet and said, “If you hear that buzzing stop, you’d better just—”
“Run!” Isabella yelled in her ear. “Because we sure will. We’re not as fast as we used to be, but we can still—”
The buzzing stopped.
Isabella bared her teeth.
Jonas snarled, Mortimer’s jaws snapped, teeth clunking together, and all of them advanced on Scarlet, hands out and grabbing for her.
A low growling erupted and swept through all of them like a hungry spirit awakening.
Scarlet gasped and began backing away along a street lit only by a dim orange glow from the burning ocean beyond the reactor.
Then, she ran just as Isabella got a grip on her dress, ripping it as she fled with the stomping of her heels echoing off of the old buildings.
Panting and with tears streaking her cheeks, mixing with oily smears left by Isabella’s eager touching, Scarlet scurried and sometimes scraped against the weathered bricks of the buildings on one side of the dark street. Each time she passed the absolute empty black of an alley entrance, she held her breath and coaxed her legs to deliver enough speed to get her past but never quickly enough to stop her wide-eyed stares into the dark.
Behind her, the sounds of mindless snarling and growling and pounding of worn shoes began to fade. And when it had grown quiet enough, she stopped to listen, straining to hear whatever buzzing had stopped and had driven Mortimer and the rest of them mad.
But there was no buzzing to challenge the silence of the dilapidated city. Scarlet paused, her back against the wall, and looked each way along the street. He chest heaved with breathing that she managed to keep silent, and nothing on that dark, deserted street conspired to create any sounds at all.
Until someone around a nearby corner screamed, “Help!”
Scarlet clenched shut her eyes and tried to submerge herself into the warm bricks at her back, shaking her head and mumbling, “No, no, no!”
She listened and heard again only silence.
Until someone, from the same direction, yelled again, “Please, help!”
Groaning softly, Scarlet unlocked herself from the bricks and took a few quiet steps toward the corner, but she stopped before reaching it and only listened.
She heard nothing, so she kept moving toward the corner with as little sound as possible. With one hand resting on the sharp, warm corner of the brick walls, she gave her agitated breathing a chance to settle.
But her lungs had no reason to relax, so she started to lean and peek around the corner. And she froze just before she could see.
“Oh, God, somebody help me!”
It was a weaker call for help, not even really a scream. An actual scream might have covered the sounds like soft, wet twigs being snapped.
And slow, easy whooshing.
And laughter. Soft, satisfied, and scornful laughter.
She leaned more, just enough to give one eye a view, and the pungent air that she’d been breathing in stayed inside.
In the gloomy darkness, two giant bat things were hunched on each side of a prone human man, a young one—barely an adult. Their wings were keeping a steady pace, whooshing on the up strokes, then shaking their way back down like falling leaves.
One of them was feasting on the man’s thigh, leaving a puddle beneath it, along with a few chunks of flesh, as it snapped its jaws, grinding into bone as the leg twitched.
The other bat was devouring what it could of a shoulder, near the neck, while lifting the torso off of the ground. The man’s head hung loosely, bobbing lazily from the feeding, and his mouth was moving slowly.
“Help. Somebody . . .”
The words were too faint to be more than whispers mixed with gurgles as blood got squeezed up and out of his mouth.
“Hate humans.”
“Guts are good.”
“Yeah. For dessert.”
“No. Now,” said the bat chomping on a leg as it raised its head, then jabbed its jaws into the man’s belly, sloshing slop out to splatter on the street’s bricks.
Scarlet’s hand over her mouth smelled like oil but it helped contain her soft gasp. The man being eaten said no more, and his head got clunked repeatedly onto the warm pavement until the other bat, the one enjoying human shoulder, joined its companion.
Two large, leathery mouths were working at the man’s middle, digging in, unraveling long innards, then ripping pieces loose. Both heads came up together, the ends of a long strand of gristle in each mouth, and they laughed while chewing their way toward the middle.
The one that mostly had its back turned toward Scarlet spun its head around to face her. Blood ran down from both corners of its mouth and dripped from the end of the short tubular segment of intestine before it got sucked in and swallowed.
“What?” said the one that was again poking around in the open body cavity.
“Heard. Breathing.”
“Boar?”
“No.”
“Dead?”
“No. Alive,” it said, then rose up to its full height, facing Scarlet with its wings held high and still.
“You hunt. I eat.”
The standing bat sniffed the air for several seconds, then twisted around and hunched low, letting its wings whoosh at a leisurely pace.
“I eat too.”
“Still warm.”
“Warm. Hate humans.”
“Good to eat.”
“Yeah.”
Scarlet gasped into her crude-stained hand and retreated out of sight, then crept along the building’s warm wall, letting her anniversary dress snag on every little burr and crack.
She’d just passed a building’s entrance, a recessed pit of blackness that revealed nothing of itself, then reached the far corner after only a few more steps.
Waiting before looking, she pressed her back against the wall and listened to human voices approaching in the gloom. The voices carried through the night, but they were still too distant for their footsteps to be heard.
“I kind of hate the early shift,” said one.
“You are a foolish brute,” said another.
“No,” said the first. “I’m a guard.”
“You’re not an amusing guard,” said the second. “Besides, how would you define ‘early’ in a place such as this?”
“Stop,” said a third voice. “Both of you have disappointing intellects. Your idle banter isn’t helpful. Neither of you is even marginally useful as a guard.”
The owner of the first voice laughed, then said, “Guard this.”
Scarlet heard what sounded like an open faucet trickling water onto the pavement and dared to grasp the jagged corner and look around.
But only for a second, then she hid herself back behind the corner. Her chest, barely calmed from the slaughter and feeding of the bats, launched another round of rapid consumption of the oil-tinged air.
She’d seen three dogs pointed her way, and one of them, the last one that spoke, had lifted its leg and was urinating on a wall.
All three had human faces.
“No, no, no!” she groaned softly through the fingers of a hand clamped over her mouth.
“See?” said the third dog guard. “How is that helpful?”
The faucet got cranked down to a trickle, then it stopped.
“Helped me. Whether you two guard it or not.”
“Okay,” said the second. “That was kind of funny.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not funny,” said the peeing dog guard. “Archie.”
The voices were again drawing near, but the pads on their paws kept them quiet as they trotted closer to Scarlet.
“Huh,” said the second. “The boss. Yeah. Not funny.”
The third said, “His job isn’t to be funny. It’s to keep the reactor working. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Nothing more?” said the first. “I’d stop and piss again over that, but my reservoir just spilled it all. His job seems to always be more than just the reactor.”
“Careful how you talk about the boss,” said the second. “He has spies all over this place.”
Scarlet fought to corral her ragged breaths as she ducked backwards into the dark cave of the building entrance. She kept going until she could feel sheets of glass behind her, smooth and warm, and she waited there as the guards turned the corner.
They got as far as her hideaway, then the second one stopped and said, “He can spy this.”
In the dim light, Scarlet watched the dog with a face lift its leg and urinate in her direction.
“We’re going to be late,” said the third guard dog. “Pee on the clock.”
The second dog gave it one final squirt, lowered its leg, then said, “You mean on company time. Not on the clock.”
“You’re a real hound for details, aren’t you?” said the third.
“See? That’s funny.”
“Hound. I get it.”
“Alright, you two. You both know there’s no clock here. To the reactor. And no more badmouthing Archie.”
“Why not?”
The third snickered and said, “Because it’s just one more excuse for him to rape you.”
“Not again. I don’t like that too much.”
“You’d hump his leg if he’d let you.”
“Well, yeah. You would too.”
“Guys! Get your hairless human faces pointed toward the reactor, and let’s march!”
Hidden in the blackest of shade, Scarlet watched as the lead guard led two grumbling human-faced dogs out of sight. Seconds later, after hearing their voices trailing away in the night, she stepped close enough to lean and look around the corner. And she saw three tails swishing before the gloom swallowed them.
Above their heads, just a tight low region in the distance showed a faint orange glow.
“The reactor,” she said to herself.
She let her breaths fight at their own pace and began walking after the dogs.
“Daniel . . .”