Chapter Four

Ignoring my order, the woman hurled the brick at me. It headed for impact with my face, flying on a fast trajectory until I fired the gun. The brick burst into dust when the bullet hit it midflight

“Get the fuck outta here, or you’re next.”

She grabbed the arm of a fellow rebel coming to her rescue and took off in the opposite direction. More fighting coming every which way, I ducked inside my building, taking the stairs to my rooms. I wasn’t one to hightail it from a brawl, but I needed a few minutes of downtime to make sure I didn’t flake out when I came face-to-face with Blondie again.

The hollowness in my heart reverberated in my gut. At least this was one need I could take care of on my own, because I damn sure wasn’t going to the Corps mess hall for my grub. I fried up some nondescript meat with a couple slices of bread, grabbed an apple that was only half mushy, and found a corner of the counter to eat at.

Throwing the frying pan-cum-plate into the sink, I washed my hands and air dried. A look in the fridge that was no bigger than an old-fashioned cooler and I hit pay dirt. Beer. Fuck yeah. I had two hours before rendezvous time, and I needed something, even if it was just one damn drink, to loosen the nut-fuck in my head. I slid onto my cot, back against the cool wall, took a long pull, and shut my eyes. I made a mental list of things not to think about. Liz. Leon. Blondie.

I drank some more, slipping down the wall, and considered the trek ahead. Our destination was almost due north, eight hundred kilometers. Given the fact much of the Wilderness was impassible after the obliteration of the Purge and the subsequent invasion of nature, our route wasn’t a straight shot. It bent west, dipped south, eased northeast, and would bring us to the Outpost bunker in approximately one month, on foot once the Land Cruiser ran out of gas. Seeing as there weren’t any refueling stations on the way.

Four weeks to keep my hands off Blondie when I could hardly keep my mind off him. Four weeks to guard him, keep him safe from Nomads. Four weeks to figure out how badly he’s gonna screw me.

I backed right up to the Nomads, stunned some of them had broken into Alpha to team up with the rebels. They were a winning combo, packing a wallop against Corps troops so far since they were still on the loose in the streets.

The Nomads were a crude breed one step above animals. They originated from settlers who’d been prepared for the end of days and preferred to stick it out with Mother Nature rather than fall in line with the Company. Left to their own devices for fifty years, they’d fallen back to a way of life called basic at best, downright undeveloped at worst.

There was talk about exiles sent outside Territory walls being sacrificed to a malevolent earth goddess. There were also rumors that Nomad communes were free-thinking, well-established colonies and escapees were welcomed with open arms.

I was more likely to believe they were violent mongrels in need of training.

Since they didn’t subjugate themselves to CO authority, they were classified as the enemy, and the war in the Wilderness was always raging. I’d been on the front lines against them before, so I had firsthand experience with their guerilla tactics, which amounted to ambushes and dirty fighting. They were savages whose people were to be put down. That pretty much summed them up per the publicity, and this was one time I thought the CO got it right.

Plan A had always been to keep myself alive, get my kicks off when I could. Keep an eye on Liz and my troops. Hell, I was all about order, structure, and rules. In that one way, I had something in common with the Company ethos, but now I wasn’t so sure this keeping-the-peace plan was worth the sacrifice of my soul.

I must’ve fallen asleep because I snapped alert fifteen minutes later to the building shaking in its foundations. Checking outside, I got confirmation of the scatter bomb just let off. I was fresh as a fucking bunny and grateful I’d dozed off during my woe-is-me moment. It was the perfect time for a getaway.

My booted feet hit the floor, and I found my backpack in the closet. Time for rations and munitions. I wasn’t so much into food as getting my fight on. My SIGS, my Glocks, and for the really good times, I was bringing along a modified M4. A piece of perfection with its shortened barrel, collapsible stock, and full auto capabilities, it was the badass big brother to my others. Adding my KA-BAR for a little carving practice, I completed my armaments with a pair of pretty polished brass knuckles I’d gotten off a dealer.

My D-P with downloaded maps, sat reception strong. I input Blondie’s contact information, made sure Liz had checked in, and zoomed in on Mrs. Cheramie’s house just to see those flowers, and my bike, one more time.

Pulling my fingers over my jaw, I glanced at the stand beside the cot. Do not even go there. The box was three quarters full, the bottle brand new. Cock covers and glide. My fingers balled into fists. Reaching for the fuck supplies, I stowed them at the bottom of my pack, out of sight. This kind of wishful thinking was gonna get me compromised or killed.

There was no time for a jerk-off session, although that might have been a mistake. The mere idea of weeks alone with Blondie was enough to start up my hard-on. His soft wet tongue, the scrape of his stubble burning my stomach before he looked up and pointed his tongue into the dripping slit of my cock. I should have fucked him, gotten the forbidden fruit out of my system. I wished for a moment I had a damn dog or, hell, even robo-fish to complain to. Something alive but mute, who would listen to me but never tell a soul.

Yeah, sissy pants, time to shove out of this shithole.

I scoped the surrounds outside, glad to see the scatter bomb had done its job. It was still eerily quiet and gloomy as fuck. Nevertheless, on the way to S-1, fire escapes were my friends. Back alleys too. The new mountains of rubble made excellent leaping-off points so long as I didn’t consider the mangled body parts and brain matter decorating the whole mess.

Nearing the Quad, things got a little dicey. The explosions continued, but they were littered with resounding silence. I kept a close eye on the rebels being strong-armed to the tarmac. I made sure to circle around the infantry caught up in one massive wave of Nomads pressing to get into the Quad.

At Commissions, I picked up the Land Cruiser. A quick survey found gasoline cans lined up in the back to augment the hydra-charger and see us a little farther down the road. Jumping into the driver’s seat, I sneered at the preprogrammed D-P guidance system and coms link. This tin can was gonna be recycling material in roughly seven days.

Chauffeuring to Rice’s digs, I leaped the sandbags surrounding the obelisk tower of glittering glass. The elevator was on standby, so I took the stairs two at a time for fifteen floors; then I leaned against the buzzer and waited.

The door opened and I swung inside as if I owned the place. It was plush with furnishings, paintings, and mirrors. He even had fresh flowers, a vase of glossy white blooms unfurling on a stand next to me. I bent over to sniff the soft lemony scent, jumping back at Blondie’s admonishment. “You’re impatient.”

“What? No servants?”

He sent his tongue along his bottom lip. “Just me.”

“Hmph.”

“But c’mon in. You want a drink?”

Damn southerners and their bullshit charm.

“I wanna bug-out before this whole fricking place implodes.” I wouldn’t have minded a minute or two to turn the place upside down and find out all his secrets.

“That right?”

“Yep.”

Then I did the dumbass thing and checked him out. He was in drab cammies accentuating his built body and dark blond hair, which slanted down to his chin. Blondie was armed with a good-looking Glock 5 on his right hip and a sheath showing a well-used knife grip. Dressed down and well armed, he sported my favorite look in a man.

Turn it off, Cannon. End-of-world crisis, so cuff your crap and get your guard up.

Blondie caught me lingering over his hair and holsters. “Weapons make you hot?”

I grunted in approval, grabbed one of his knapsacks, and headed to the hallway.

“Always did want a male escort.” He hefted the last two backpacks with no visible strain.

That made me hot too.

I gritted my teeth. “Bet you got enough Company scrip if that’s all you wanted. Be a much easier way to get laid than this head trip.”

He came back with a quiet murmur that rocked me sideways. “What if I just want you?”

My stomach lurched with something deeper than hunger and so long unsatisfied, a piercing pain and pleasurable rush collided inside me. I pounded down the stairwell ahead of him. “You’ve packed heavy.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll lose something along the way.” He winked.

Cursing, I pushed outside and came to a complete stop. Apart from a few stragglers, the street was dead. “Where the hell is everyone?”

“Tryin’ to get out.”

A pair of wounded rebels rounded the corner, their wobbly walk turning into an all-out run in our direction. I dropped the bag and took out my gun. Only Blondie’s hand on my wrist stopped me from doing the deed this time.

He waved something in their faces. His keycard. “Take it. Sell the stuff; eat the food—just get off the streets while y’all can.”

Wary gray eyes narrowed in a soot-covered face. The man snatched the card and spat a filthy stream of juice toward Blondie’s face. They backed into the building, their eyes on us the entire time.

While I wondered at his game, he wiped his face, stowed his shit, and made for the driver’s seat. “Gonna get in?”

“Roger that.” I leaped across the hood. “But I’m not taking the passenger side.”

My trigger ready to fire off, I jammed my hips against his until he hit the door.

Blondie rotated his groin against mine. “You want to drive, I take it.”

I put my hand next to his shoulder on the door frame, not touching, but real close. “Look, Blondie. I’m not asking you to bottom, just to fucking navigate.”

His laughter tapped down to my belly and he slid inside, hopping his ass over the console to the passenger side. Maybe he was undercover. Maybe he was a fake. Maybe he was gonna be the cause of my death. Didn’t matter. For once a warm fire was lit inside me, all because I’d made him laugh.

It took only a mile to erase all the happy I was feeling. A pack of bewildered civilians were being herded away from the gates, looking around with wide eyes and the confusion of children when their world dissolved. Because it had. With no solution to the water problem, the situation was gonna get even uglier. Sewage would back up, bacteria would breed, and illness would spread. The civilians could forget about plain old dying of thirst.

As we approached the monstrous gates decked out with sniper towers and rows upon rows of razor wire, hundreds more milled around the hot zone. We were recognized by the mixed bag of mobbers, one shout becoming a loud chorus from an army of angry residents bearing down on us. Marauders swarmed the Land Cruiser, rocking it from side to side.

“It’s the commander!”

“And that CEO boy. Rice! Rice!”

I eased my foot on the gas, maneuvering through the melee until the back window was smashed out, showering glass inside. It snipped my face, neck, and hands as I went for my rifle. Taking out my window, I used the M4 to butt the face directly beside me, then the next and the next.

Blondie was hanging half outside his window, firing into the air.

A young mother ran through the path I’d cleared beside the vehicle, tears tracking down her dirty face, the baby in her arms squalling.

She pushed the bundle toward me, screaming, “Take him. Take my Wyatt!”

“Ma’am.” I laid the rifle aside, holding up empty hands. “I can’t do that.”

“We’ll die in here. Take my boy!”

“It’s not safe out there either.”

Blondie dropped inside to urge, “Drive, Cannon,” his face hard, voice emotionless.

Sending the Cruiser forward, I checked the mirror, then wished I hadn’t. Clutching the baby, the woman stumbled to her knees behind us, care of a soldier’s fist to her face.

“Fuck this,” I growled, ready to go back for her.

Just then, the tide of renegades turned. All the terror, all the vindictiveness the renegades had unleashed on us was directed on the slap-happy soldier.

I hit the gas hard, slamming us forward. Troops formed a human barrier between us and any other would-be evacuees while the thick fortress of Alpha Territory peeled back like the lid of a can, opening to the Wilderness.

In the rearview, I saw the razed city and watched mortars light the sky. White knuckling the steering wheel, I gunned over the iron grid and kept going.

No more looking back.

At times like this, I was usually flying solo or with Liz. We didn’t so much talk it out as trudge through it. I didn’t know what to make of Blondie, but I knew one thing. “That’s wrong, man. What they’re doing, what we’re part of, it’s not right.”

Beside me, he shielded his eyes. “I know.”

His elbow was on the armrest, his hand laid almost on top of mine as I handled the gearshift. A pothole in the dirt road jostled him sideways, against my arm. I wanted to pull him closer. He righted himself to the opposite side of his seat, forming the division I should have. He’d felt good during that brief contact. It would’ve been natural to stretch my arm across his shoulders.

No matter how much I wanted the fleeting feeling of belonging with someone, especially after what had just gone down, I didn’t move a single muscle toward him.

Eventually, after watching me for an hour’s worth of dusty miles, he sent me a slight smile. “So, that it? You gonna be the strong silent type the rest of the way?”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me take my eyes off the track to tease, “Well, I’m not sucking your cock again, if that’s what you’re after.”

The sudden quirk of his lips said, We’ll just see about that. And then his smile grew when he joked, “Jesus, Caspar. I’m not askin’ you to top me, just to talk.”

*  *  *

The hot sun had fallen behind the trees by the time we called it a day, settling into a hollow of soft moss with tufts of green grass, surrounded by a ring of old-growth pines. A clear stream gurgled like the water pipes of my single shower, and beside it a mound of purple-blue wildflowers nodded their starry heads. They were the same shade of blue as Blondie’s eyes. I bent to one knee, lifting a blossom to my nose. Fresh, fragrant. I shut my eyes to savor the clean scent.

When I opened them, he was staring at me. My cheeks warmed, and for once I wished I’d grown a beard to hide the pink stain on my face.

“You just gonna stand there, Company Man? Or help me set up camp?”

His eyes narrowed in challenge. “You’re gonna keep pretending nothin’ affects you, big man?”

“Fuck you.” I stormed to the Land Cruiser, kicking the crust of mud from a tire.

Beside me, he reached into the back of the vehicle, pulling out supplies. “Gladly take you up on that offer, but I usually like to have a decent conversation with my lovers first.”

“Guess you’re out of luck. I don’t do idle chitchat.” Should have remembered that when I opened my big mouth earlier.

Busy unpacking the essentials for the night, my mind backtracked to the day’s journey. It was a good thing we had fresh water to clean up with, after Blondie’s antics once he took over driving. With him at the wheel, I’d been vigilant. The rebellion was contained within the environs of Alpha—the insurgents concentrating on seats of power—leaving me on the lookout for possible Nomad tangos. I’d been heedful of the unrecognizable landscape and more than a little fixated on Blondie.

He’d draped a wrist over the wheel, and a whistle, of all the goddamn things, had parted his lips. How the hell can he be so relaxed? He’d dropped his CO makeover the same way he’d switched his package-hugging suit for ass-cupping camos.

After the Purge, the roads had been blown up, making any to-and-fro almost impossible. The Cruiser’s struts bounced over ruts in the nearly invisible dirt track, getting a good workout. I was getting a workout, too, restraining my eyes from his thighs shifting with every press of clutch and gas, biting back my moan as the scorching sun sent a trickle of sweat from his temple to jaw and down the ropes of his neck.

Performing an all-points check, I’d pressed my foot down to the running board, hoping to hit an imaginary brake. “You’re not driving through that.”

That was a wide well of brackish water, scummy with a yellow sheen on top.

“The great Commander Cannon scared of a bog? Ain’t gonna hurt you none. I’ve done it before.” He gave me a sideways glance and a halfway smile.

It wasn’t a bog. It was a damn swamp, and we had no idea how deep it ran. In no mood to lose our transport on the first day out, I glared at him. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Maybe. But this is gonna be fun. I promise you.”

He’d motored right into the swamp, shouting a whoop-holler when mud cascaded in thick fountains on either side of us. The Land Cruiser stuttered, and he’d eased it smoothly out of the suction, slicing left and right. His boyish delight pressed a dimple into his cheek. By the time we’d reached the other side, I was grinning, he was laughing, and the commissary vehicle was coated in the same oily muck splattered up our arms to our faces.

Bumping along, sun drying, I’d asked, “You’ve been outside Alpha before?”

“’Course I have. You know that.” His wicked look seared through me, tightening my groin.

I’d brushed away immediate hunger, hulking against the door. “Not talkin’ about the Theater, Blondie.”

“I have a name, y’ know.”

Yeah, Nathaniel. It’s etched on my brain. The first time I said it was gonna be when I slid inside that perfect ass of his. “I meant, have you been out here for official business…or family?”

His mercurial face closed up shop. That’s why I had one expression in my repertoire. The fuck-you look.

He’d stopped the vehicle to face me. “Yeah, I got family. And yes, I been out here before.”

Bounties were paid for gays turned in, a new kind of headhunter for Team RACE. I’d met his eyes. “I still think you’re screwing with me.”

“Do you? Maybe I’m just more adept at hidin’ what I am; I’ve been indoctrinated and brought up in the Company way, after all. Now, you? You show your desire every time you look at me, Caspar. Don’t believe for a second I don’t see it.” He’d leaned in, whispering, “Don’t think for a moment I don’t want you on top of me, inside of me.”

I inhaled at the implication when he added, “I wanna fuck you, too.”

“You’re playing me.”

The snap of my fatigues came loose under his fingers. “I want to.” His face was carved with sharp longing. His mouth slipping across my stomach had my cock fueled for a fuck. “I did take notes on you. Not for work, but for pleasure.”

No matter how much I shouldn’t believe him, the pressure of his lips, the sound of his voice, damn near hypnotized me. He was pulling all my strings, pulling them taut until I was stretched by desire.

Toying with the shelf of my cockhead still battened down inside my pants, his breathy words bathed my hips and wetted the line of hair bisecting my abdomen. “I saw you five months ago. That twink was all over you.” His hands ran below to my ass, pulling me up. “Leon.”

The material covering my erection tugged into his mouth, he’d snarled, “I wanted to punch that boy in the face when he dared call you cher. I’ve been poundin’ my fist in time to your name all this time. I don’t want anyone else touchin’ you.”

I’d seized him by his hair, hauling him up to my face. “Get off me.”

“You’re a big guy. Make me.” Blondie smiled when I smoothed the knots of hair I’d made at the nape of his neck instead of pushing him away. “You don’t trust me.”

Arching into his hips, I’d aligned our stiff cocks. “Not one bit.”

Except he wasn’t the only one who’d wanted for months. Bet my palm was more chafed than Blondie’s, all because of a hundred filthy fantasies starring him. This was a take-what-you-could-get kind of world for gays, then make a quick getaway. There was no getting away this time and maybe I didn’t want there to be. Besides, I could always fuck Blondie with a capital F, after I fucked him, of course.

His lips had touched my ear. “You think you’re always in charge. I pursued you. I knew who and what you were the first time I saw you at the Theater. Think I didn’t notice you swaggerin’ around the Quad?” He bit the tendon linking my shoulder to my neck, causing a thrill to race down my body. “Yeah, I watched you. I followed you to the Amphitheater. I almost came in my pants when I got your voice over the D-P, that night I warned y’all about the attempt on Cutler’s life. I’ve wanted you for such a damn long time.” Moving his lips back to my ear, he rasped, “I requested you as my escort.”

“Bullshit.” I was knotted up inside, trying to maintain my bluff, but desire was getting a good stranglehold on disbelief.

“Bullshit, huh?” He’d held my thighs in a hard grip. “Think about this. I’ve had ample opportunity. I had the evidence of what you are in my mouth last night. Why haven’t I turned you in already, collected my bonus?”

“To lull me into a false sense of security before you knife me in the back.”

“So damn pigheaded. I’ve studied you, not to report you, Caspar, but because I want a relationship with you.”

The stranglehold was cutting off my oxygen, which I deemed the only way to make sense of the fact I was considering his words at all. Studied me. Sure as fuck I’d made a point of watching him too. As for a relationship, well shit. That kind of thinking was just pipe dreams easily blown up by pipe bombs. I should know. My personal life was even more high risk than my job. Yet here I was, with Blondie in my lap, my heart rate rocketing because of his proximity. His confessions. His sensual overload doing a number on all my well-laid suspicions.

Hitting back with the truth of our fragged situation, I said, “You realize what kind of fucked-up antifaggot society we live in, right? You understand we both work on the side that will always keep us apart?”

I’d expected him to push away, but he just stared at me, his broad palms running up and down my thighs until my muscles bucked in time with my throbbing dick. Until I said, “Studied me, have you?” Jerking my chin, I asked, “Learn anything useful?”

His full lower lip between his teeth, his look smoldered along my body, but the words that left that lush mouth made my chest bounce in laughter, the fucker. “Yeah. You don’t really have a goldfish.”

I peeled his hands off my lap. “I’m not gonna get caught.”

“Neither am I.” He scooted back to the driver’s seat. “You’re detrimental to my plan, you know?”

“Ditto.” I’d curled my fingers over the armrest to keep myself completely away from him as my heart got sucked into my gut. “What if I call you Major Head Fuck from now on?”

He’d gnawed on a downturned corner of his mouth before turning his face out the window. “I’d sure prefer it if you called me Nathaniel, but Blondie’s good too.”

Remembering the important shit, I’d looked dead ahead into the forest. Assignment, delivery, good riddance. Not get my jock off.

He’d interpreted my body language correctly. “How can I get to you?”

“You can’t. No one can.” Not anymore.

“You’re gonna lie about this?” He drew me to him, a hand cupping my shoulder.

Betraying my own need, I went willingly. He’d hesitated when our lips were so close I could make out the tip of his tongue waiting inside his parted mouth. We’d leaned toward each other at the same time, joining in a furious tangle of tongues, wet lips, and widened mouths to suck it all in. When I’d strained to connect our bodies, he broke away.

I struggled to breathe, fisting my hands on the seat between us.

“You gonna lie about what we have?” His voice was hoarse.

I pushed off the seat to my side of the vehicle. “It’s only because there’s no one else.”

His face bleak with emotion, he’d assured me, “It doesn’t matter where I am, or who I’m with…God, Caspar. I’ve dreamed about being with you.”

The rest of the ride had been uncomfortable, culminating in him catching me sniffing fucking flowers.

Just a day in the life.

I washed the memories from my mind and the mud from my face, dipping my head underwater, cooling off. When my ears cleared, I heard him whistling again. Music was a major illegal item. Proven to incite riots, the airwaves were filled with the Company’s monotonous propaganda pipeline. The only time I heard tunes was at the Theater, heavy thumping bass with no lyrics. Mostly it was a luxury I didn’t miss, along with everything but the most basic amenities, yet listening to Blondie was strangely soothing.

Wiping my chest with my shirt, I knew it was a sound I’d yearn for when this was all over. “What’s that song?”

“My momma had this device called an MP3 filled with songs from back in the day. She hung on to it like a lifeline and hid it whenever we had Company company.” He winked. “She used to curse that thing out. It was so old, it was pre-Purge. It couldn’t hold a charge half the time. Once I started gettin’ good with wires, I made all sorts of peripherals for it. Man, could she dance, too. Cut a rug—that was the term she used.” He peered up at the sky with a grin parting his lips. “She had a thing for this one singer, name of Van Morrison. Song’s called ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’”

I joined him, and we passed poles through the open-sided tent’s loops, another throwback instead of the pump-up pup tents the Corps used on excursions.

“Well, your eyes are blue.”

He smiled over at me. “Didn’t think you noticed.”

Oh, I noticed and have been polarized by the first bit of blue matching your eyes that nature provided. I glanced at that clump of flowers, glad they couldn’t tell on me. “Yeah, well, blue is blue.”

“That’s right.” In a couple steps, he was in front of me. His extra two inches in height made me knock my head back to see just how blue his irises were. “My momma used to sing it, but not about me. She knew my type of man. She’d say you were just the right amount of dark sugah I needed. That sleek black brush cut, those big muscles. Those dark brown eyes with little flecks of gold when you grin, that darken when you’re worried.”

I pushed through his seduction with a forced laugh. “Too bad the song’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl,’ not guy.”

“I can improvise.” He shrugged.

I wanted to make a smartass remark about him being a momma’s boy, but I couldn’t do that. Not when I had my own demons, in quadruple form. “Where is she now, your mother?”

“She’s safe.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yeah.”

I swallowed fast and let it fly. “A lover?”

Raising his hands, he held his hair back, his gaze hitting mine. “No lover, Caspar.”

I cleared my throat of the way it tightened to think he was available. “Think we oughtta get our shit sorted for the night?”

“You askin’ me on a date?”

“Nah, I’m telling you to haul ass before we go darkout.”

His chuckle was broken up with a murmured, “Wouldn’t mind fumblin’ in the dark with you.”

We worked side by side, and I was surprised by his speed and agility. His methodical motions matched mine as we laid a boundary of dry twigs and wrangled the night’s rations inside the circle we’d booby-trapped.

While Blondie started the fire, I watched his hands. It was almost dark and I was unseen in the shadow of the trees. “Had you pegged for a suit,” I called as I stepped into the clearing.

Crouched low, he looked up. He brushed that dirty-blond hair from his face, leaving a trail of soot on his cheek. “Had you pegged for a succinct sonuvabitch. Guess I win.”

I handed him the warm furred rabbit I’d snared. Scrutinizing his slick skinning of the animal, I was closer to flirting than I’d ever dared. “A stiff suit.”

His hands halted. “Caspar?”