Salina Morales watched as Robin dragged her mother across the square to the recreation center. How the fragile woman had survived the missile’s effects was beyond the tough soldier’s powers of comprehension. It had to be that this Sims guy was some kind of a miracle worker; just the type of brain who would know how to control armies of the undead when properly convinced.
But she had tried using her considerable powers of seduction against the good doctor to no avail; it had only made him squirm uncomfortably that time she had “accidentally” brushed her breast against his arm.
Must be a fag. He looked like one, anyway.
She considered walking over and giving Mother some shit about how Heather had turned the lovin’ on him for all to see, but he was already walking away, probably off to ogle that deteriorating pile of ancient porno mags that he thought were well-hidden beneath his bed.
Instead, she moved away from the town center, making her way over to the place where they had first entered this zombie-free zone: the tunnel on the southern edge of Sanctuary. Standing in front of the locked door to the tunnel were two shotgun-wielding guards. This was standard procedure around here. Why they needed to guard this end of the tunnel was beyond her; who’d be crazy enough to want to leave here? And why would they need to be stopped? Sure, she had seen men and women come and go through that door but she figured they were rescuers, or whatever they called themselves—folks who went out into the wide world to find wanderers to bring back here to safety. Why they even bothered, she had no idea. Weren’t there enough people in this town? Why should they share this relative paradise with every Tom, Dick and Harry who moseyed on past?
Questions, questions.
And no answers.
Salina looked around. There was no one in sight but the guards and herself. Half full of mischief, half boredom, she sauntered over and stood before the two burly townsmen, her hands on her hips, hips cocked to one side. She looked at them sidelong and pursed her lips. “You boys having a good time out here all by yourselves?”
She knew these two. Their names were Bob and The Other Bob; at least that’s how she thought of them. Bob was tall, dark and a doofus, whereas The Other Bob wasn’t tall or dark at all. They tried looking everywhere except directly at Salina. She had that effect on men sometimes.
“What’s the matter, Bobs? Too shy to talk to little ol’ me?”
“We was just talking about you, in fact,” Bob said, staring past the end of his shotgun to the dirt beneath his feet.
The Other Bob laughed. “Yeah, we saw you standing over there, looking at us.” He was staring off into the sky, as if he were waiting for the horizon to turn blue again.
“Oh, you did, did you? I guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought.” Salina thrust her chest out just as Bob stole a glance at her. She smiled wickedly as his cheeks blushed bright red. “And what were you boys saying about sweet Salina? I bet I can guess.”
Both men shuffled their feet like they were two children who’d been caught staring at the centerfold of Playboy magazine.
“Here’s what I think you were talking about: pussy. My pussy to be exact.”
Now both their faces were burning bright red enough to light all of Sanctuary on the darkest of nights. She glanced down at their jeans and watched their discomfort grow, a smug smile on her face.
Just like her own boys—
—her dead boys—
—she had these two wrapped around her pinky.
She leaned closer to the Other Bob. She placed the palm of her left hand on the front of his pants and began to rub in a soft, circular motion. He swallowed and made a sound like something large was caught in his throat. The eyes of the first Bob were bugging out of his head.
Jesus. The Other Bob was getting stiff and it felt like he had a monster cock. Well, that was unexpected. He groaned. Salina removed her hand, leaving a bulge to tent out the man’s jeans.
“Shit, you gonna leave me like this?” The Other Bob shifted from one foot to the other and back. Salina knew those balls were getting a little blue.
“‘Fraid so, big boy. What if we started something and Dr. Sims showed up?”
At the mention of the doctor’s name, the Other Bob’s face lost a bit of its flush.
“What about me?” The first Bob’s voice had the petulant tone of a child’s. “Don’t I get nothin’?”
Salina positioned herself in front of Bob. She roughly tugged down the zipper on his pants and fished his penis out into the open air. He was already half hard. He was much smaller than the Other Bob. It didn’t matter. She dropped to her knees and took the spongy head into her mouth. It tasted like piss and stale sweat. She didn’t care. This wasn’t the first dick she had sucked to get something she desperately wanted. She knew how to disconnect her mind from her body, just like she had the very first time, when one of her Mama’s “boyfriends” stumbled into Salina’s bedroom stroking his hard-on. Salina thought that swollen purple head was the funniest thing she had ever seen, so she laughed. That got her a backhand from the man.
“Don’t laugh at me, ya little bitch. I kept your mom mighty happy with this rod. But she passed out. So you’re gonna have to take her place. Now open wide.”
He pulled her up to a sitting position by tugging on her hair. His organ bobbed in front of her lips. She knew she should bite the tip of it clean off, but the man would probably kill her.
So she opened her mouth and licked and sucked until her mouth filled with his sticky goo.
“Good girl,” he told her. “We’ll do this again real soon.”
He’d kept his word. The next time, she refused to do it until he gave her money. He smacked her around. She screamed. Finally he dug a ten out of his wallet and tossed it at her. “Here ya go, cunt. Now yer just a cunt whore.”
She took him into her mouth and thought, I am a cunt whore. With ten dollars.
Over the next few years she’d gotten a lot with her mouth and her pussy. Money, mostly. Once, a man had given her a beat-up rustbucket of a truck. When she was 16, she fucked a gangbanger in exchange for a .357, her first gun, the first thing she’d ever truly loved.
Now she spread her spit all over Bob’s knob. This brief suck-fest was going to make her queen of the world. She pulled him out of her mouth with a small pop, stood up and wiped her mouth with the back of a hand. She grinned at the men.
Bob shook his head, either over the fact that she’d just given him the tease of a blow job, or that she didn’t finish it. Maybe both. Either way was fine with Salina.
Other Bob seemed to realize he was standing next to another man with his cock sticking out and dripping saliva onto the ground.
His scarlet face got darker.
“For fuck’s sake, Bob,” he said to the Other Bob, “what are you lookin’ at?”
“Huh? I wasn’t looking. I swear!”
Bob had to set his shotgun on the ground to tuck his rigid member back into his pants.
“So what do you fellas think?” Salina said.
“Well, ma’am, I don’t know you very well,” the Other Bob said, “but back home we’d call you a cock tease.”
Salina laughed. “Now, now. A cock tease is a girl who doesn’t deliver. Salina always delivers. Always comes through, you might say.”
“When?” The first Bob spoke while still adjusting his dick in his pants.
“When are you two off shift?”
“Three,” the Other Bob said.
“Uh-huh. And is your relief usually on time?”
“Hell, yeah.” The first Bob said. “Dewey Marcum and Javier Volquez. Them boys are like clockwork.”
“Then here’s the deal,” Salina said. She stepped forward again and grabbed the crotches of both Bobs. “Be at my cabin at five minutes after three.”
“B-both of us?” the Other Bob said.
“Together?” the first Bob added.
“Why not? I have enough holes for both of you.”
The Bobs swallowed in unison.
Salina released their crotches. “But here’s a word of warning: I haven’t been laid in a while. And I will get laid today. If you’re not there at five after three, I’m leaving to look for your replacements.”
“W-we’ll be there,” the first Bob said.
“Fuck, yeah,” said the Other Bob.
“Good. See you then.”
Salina walked away from the pair. She knew they were staring at her ass. It was, after all, spectacular. When their shift ended, Bob and the Other Bob would be ready to explode.
That left her two hours.
She needed to find Marcum and Volquez.
* * *
Mother leaned back in his chair and belched.
“Christopher!” Heather chided. Robin giggled.
“Hey, it’s a compliment to the chef. Right, little buddy?”
Nestor stood next to their table, chest thrust out, beaming like a proud papa.
Jubal thought he had a right to be proud. This was the first chance he’d had to show off his culinary skills under proper conditions.
“That was the best apple pie I’ve ever had,” Jubal said.
“Amen,” Heather said.
Robin chimed in. “Double Amen!”
They all laughed.
“It wasn’t that good,” Nestor said. “The apples were old and the flour is some off-brand that has been sitting in a cabinet God knows how long. I’m not sure what the butter substitute even was—”
Mother held up a hand to shut him up. “Don’t make me throw up, baker man. Can’t you learn to take a compliment?”
“It really was wonderful, Nestor,” Heather said.
“Thank you,” Nestor said. “It did feel good to get back into the kitchen.”
A loud noise came from the back of the nearly empty dining hall. They turned to see Susan McGuire glaring at Nestor as she violently mutilated a piece of meat with a large cleaver.
“I don’t think I made a new friend today,” Nestor said.
“Who cares?” Mother said. “At least you get to do what you’re good at. They have me gardening.”
Jubal hadn’t been assigned any job, which was a little odd. He helped out whenever he saw work to do, like chopping wood or carrying supplies. For the most part, though, he walked around a lot. He studied the perimeter, the guard’s shift changes, the lock on the armory. He kept telling himself to relax. After all, this was Sanctuary, right?
Apparently, relaxing was against his nature.
“I have an announcement,” Heather said.
Jubal was surprised. Heather hadn’t said anything to him. As far as he was concerned she was still too frail to walk around the village by herself. Not surprisingly, she disagreed.
“Let’s hear it,” Mother said.
“You are looking at Sanctuary’s new assistant librarian.”
‘Seriously? That’s fantastic!” Mother lifted a palm and Heather slapped it. “Uh, this place has a library?”
“Ha-ha,” Heather said. “I saw you go in there the day before yesterday.”
“I was just checking to see if they had Penthouse or Hustler.”
Heather smacked him in the arm.
Jubal was relieved. At least being a librarian wasn’t strenuous. Still, he wished she would take it slower. But she was a restless soul. That was something Jubal understood all too well.
Nestor cleared his throat. “I have to go. I’m experimenting with some of the fruit. Anybody want to help me make blueberry ice cream?”
“I do!” Robin practically launched herself from her chair. Nestor glanced at Heather, who nodded her approval. Nestor took the little girl’s hand and headed for the back of the room. Jubal saw him smile and nod at Susan McGuire. The woman whacked the meat again and gave Nestor a dirty look.
Jubal didn’t say anything until Nestor and Robin were at the back of the room. Nestor had asked them to come by toward the end of the lunch hour so they could sample the pie. Unfortunately, Amara was busy teaching a self-defense class for some of the women in Sanctuary. Jubal wasn’t sure what they needed to defend against, but it was always good to be ready for a fight.
Jubal cleared his throat.
Before he could speak, Mother rocked his chair forward and planted his elbows on the table. “I hate this fucking place.”
“Give it a chance, Chris,” Heather said. “It’s a big adjustment for all of us.”
“Why does she keep calling you ‘Chris?’” Jubal said, smiling a little as Mother blushed beneath his scars.
Mother frowned and stuttered. “W-we have a special understanding, okay? It’s between me and Heather. She is the only person allowed to call me that. Anybody else calls me that gets on my bad side.”
“Oh, I’m sorry…Mother. I forgot,” Heather said holding her hands to her face, obviously embarrassed by her mistake.
The big man shrugged. “It’s okay, little lady. Feel like punching someone anyway. It might as well be the next person who isn’t you that doesn’t call me ‘Mother.’ This place is the pits.”
“C’mon, Mother,” Jubal said, serious now. “What’s wrong? We each have our own beds, nice warm cabins and we’ve just had the best meal in what seems like years.”
“Just something wrong with this place, like something’s going on behind our backs.” Mother reached into his leather vest for a cigar.
“Can’t smoke in here,” Heather said.
Mother rolled his eyes and stopped fishing for a smoke. “Grah! That’s me, the weaponless, smokeless meek and mild gardener of Sanctuary.”
Heather stared at the table, her face full of concern.
“What are your thoughts on this place?” Jubal said to the woman. She’d seemed excited about being the town librarian but once Mother had started bitching, it was like the sun had gone out.
“Robin loves it here. I can tell she feels safe and, heck, she’s smiled more in the past week than in all the time since her father died. And there are all these other kids for her to play with, children her own age. I’m sorry that Chr—Mother feels out of place here but I have to think of my child’s needs first.”
Jubal nodded, not wanting to push the issue any further. Sure, Heather wanted Robin to feel safe and happy but how did the woman that had become so dear to him feel about it here herself? Maybe he’d ask her when she was feeling a bit stronger. Right now, it appeared that she was barely able to sit upright on the bench.
Mother cleared his throat. “What about you, boss man? You like it here? The way you wander around this place like a lost duckling, I get the feeling you’re about ready to bust out of this village of Stepford motherfuckers.”
“You’re not leaving, are you, Jubal?” Heather said, her eyes suddenly large with worry.
Jubal waved a hand. “I’m not going anywhere—not yet anyway. However, to tell the truth, I do feel as Mother does. But it doesn’t matter whether we like it here or not, sooner or later, we’re going to have to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Sanctuary. And I’m hoping that it’s sooner, for all our peace of mind.”
From the kitchen, Jubal could hear Nestor laughing boisterously and Robin screaming with glee. It sounded like they were having the time of their lives. Nestor had lost his wife and children and Robin had lost her father; now they had each other to take their minds off the pain, at least for this precious moment. And who was Jubal to deprive them of that joy?
But if there was something wrong here, as Amara and some of the rest of them had intuited…
It appeared that, even in Sanctuary, the decisions Jubal Slate had to make weren’t going to be easy ones.