DRAGON (mxm)
Ani Dn · 15 chapters · 22,517 words
1. Superior (Chris)
I am gazing at the cheerless landscape before me. A deep groan escapes my chapped lips. I was wrong. There is no water here. The river I once knew as an untamed, babbling stream, sparkling against the lush greenery, is gone. Only a sad, dusty path is winding in its place among dead branches and silent rocks, covered in yellow dirt.
This used to be a dense forest, beautiful and teaming with life. It has the color of the desert now. The mighty oak trees have turned into motionless giants, dry and hopeless. Their leaves, painted in all shades of brown, are waiting resignedly for the weakest gust of wind to wipe them away from the land that no longer gives them strength, but only poison.
I’ve been climbing the high hill all day under the cruel sun to reach the ridge from where a steep but short slope leads to a thicket of shrubbery and undergrowth that gradually transitions into an old oak forest. The only thing that kept me going was my hope. I naively thought I would be here before sunset to find the place exactly as I remembered it from my childhood. Twenty years of wandering across the wasteland should have made me wiser. I should have known better.
There is no hope. There is no water. There is no home.
It is almost dark. Staying in the open is the stupidest thing one can do when the night is approaching. I contemplate what to do for a while, but there is no turning back. The best option is to hide in the forest. The trees grow at the very crest of the hill and extend all the way to where our family farm once stood. The house must be razed to the ground by now. Maybe, I will go and have a look tomorrow, although, to see it in ruins will surely break my heart for a thousandth time. I wonder how much pain a man can bear when the world he was born into crumbles before his eyes.
Suddenly, a horrid, gruff growl shatters the silence in the advancing twilight. I can feel the sound waves penetrate my body, not only through the ears, but through every pore on my skin, all the way to the bones, making them vibrate on the same low frequency. The dreadful sound courses through my blood stream, accelerating my pulse until it feels like hammers, hitting directly on my eardrums. My heart is pounding. The adrenalin is rushing in my veins. I am petrified.
There is no doubt it’s a monster. It seems this is not an ordinary one. Not that the word ‘ordinary’ fits any of them. Each one of those vicious, merciless predators is terrifying, but it still remains an animal. Although the mutations have made them far more aggressive than before, they can’t be as smart as a human, determined to stay alive. We have learned how to avoid them and how to survive an eventual encounter. If it sounded like an ORD, I wouldn’t be more worried than about a sprained ankle. But this…
Another growl echoes through the lifeless forest, this time followed by a long, menacing hiss. I instantly fall on my knees and take my backpack off my shoulders. It is a bad idea to stay on top of the hill. I need to find a shelter as soon as possible. Not taking fear and scent suppressants first could be even worse. I am scared and they can smell it. It won’t matter where I hide because the beast will instantly know exactly where to find me. I am convinced it’s a SUP. I also think there is nothing that can save me, if I am right. But I am a fighter, or just stubborn, and will try anyway.
The ‘superiors’ are rare. We know nothing about them. They are almost like a legend. There were no more than twenty encounters in twenty years and only a couple of survivors. Death rate over ninety percent. I will still take my chances. I quickly swallow a handful of pills, spray myself with the stinky liquid and roll down the slope, hiding in the dry grass. There is a huge fallen log, forming a small cavern between the rocks on the river bank. I get on all fours and crawl into it, pulling the branches to cover it completely. If I am lucky, the monster may go away, without even passing by my hiding place at all.
The hiss is what bothers me the most. There are five known species of SUPs, but only one of them does it. The creature was spotted a single time and from a very big distance. This is why the man lived long enough to describe it. If it was before The Impact, people wouldn’t have believed him. They would’ve laughed and said he was probably drunk. Perhaps, a tabloid or two would’ve published an article in their ‘Curiosities’ section, telling about the man who was surely crazy or under the influence. No one doubts his words now. We, humans are too few. We cannot afford to tell lies or doubt each other. If something is terrifying and seems impossible, it almost every time turns out to be true. This is what the world became. We must learn how to live in it because there is no escape. Now that I think about it, I wouldn’t have liked horror movies so much as a kid, if I knew I would end up starring in one of them.
I hear the hiss again, this time closer, but still at a considerable distance. It is a strange sound, reminiscent of the old steam locomotive whistles, mixed with the noise of a rattlesnake’s tail. I don’t even tremble. The suppressants are strong. I am rather curious than afraid, although, I am aware that these may be the last minutes of my life. My breathing is calm when the trees start bending with loud creaks and fallen branches crash under the heavy approaching steps. The beast is huge. The century-old oaks are breaking like toothpicks under its power.
The blaze comes unexpectedly, a sudden explosion, right behind my back. I can feel the swelter. There is only fire and smoke around me. The hot air burns my lungs. I barely take a breath. I don’t have many options - stay where I am and suffocate to death; go out and try to find another shelter while everything is in flames, not a chance; run to the hill and try to climb it and hide on the other side, but that would mean to face the beast. How fast is it? How good its sight is? Would it chase me? I have no idea.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and tighten the straps around my waist. If I somehow survive, it won’t last long without the few life-saving possessions I have. There is nothing to muse on. The first two options mean certain death. Only the third one gives me a chance to save myself, however slim to none it may be.
I carefully remove the burning branches, blocking the exit and pull myself out, clinging to the rocks which are so hot that it starts smelling of burnt fabric from my t-shirt. It burns my skin as well, but I am used to pay no attention to the pain. My whole life is an endless torture. What are a few scars, compared to that?
There is something strange. I am focused on my escape and can’t pinpoint it at first, but then realize it. The complete silence. Not a single sound can be heard except the crackling of the burning wood. I stop for a moment when I reach a relatively concealed spot behind a smoldering tree and lean on a big round stone, raising my eyes.
It is right there before me, taller than the trees, motionless, quiet, staring directly at me with its big, unblinking, cobalt blue eyes. I was right from the start. A proud smile curves the corners of my lips. What is the point in freaking out? I will be the second person to have ever seen it. Too bad that I won’t be able to tell anyone about it.
A dragon.
Its scales are shining like precious stones. The creature is dreadful, but also magnificent. I reach out. Maybe, the shock has driven me insane, but I want to touch it before it kills me. The desire to feel its smooth skin under my fingers is stronger than the fear. I have no idea why. Perhaps it’s the pills, or the overheating. My attempt is met by the familiar warning hiss. And then everything goes black.
Photo 1178043531 © Oleksandr_Masnyi | istockphoto.com
Photo 660722622 © Oleksandr_Masnyi | istockphoto.com
A/N
Welcome to my newest story.
This will be a post-apocalyptic fantasy, mixed with a little sci-fi and mystery, but above all a steamy romance as usual.
Thank you so much for choosing to read it and your constant support! ❤❤❤
What are your first impressions of our mc Chris?
Do you think he will survive the encounter with a SUP?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
2. Dead or Alive (Chris)
What stirs me awake is so incredible that my first thought is I must be dead. It is the strong aroma of fresh coffee. This is just not possible. I haven’t smelled coffee in twenty years and have never actually tried it. I know about it from my childhood memories when mom and dad drank the fragrant beverage during breakfast. There was tea or milk for me. Daddy was saying I was too young to drink coffee, although, I always stubbornly insisted to get a cup.
My heart skips a beat. What if they are here? I have never believed in afterlife or reincarnation, but what if it’s true? I fought tooth and nail to survive in the wasteland for so long, only to be killed by a monster in the end. I could have given up earlier and be with them all this time. I am not a defeated person, but can’t help wondering what was the point in all the suffering. Coming home turned out to be the worst idea I have ever had… or, maybe, the best.
I open my eyes abruptly and immediately hiss at the pain caused by folding my swollen, burnt eyelids. My body convulses in sudden shock as I realize that, despite the effort, I see nothing but darkness.
“Mom? Dad? Am I dead?” My voice is weak. My throat hurts. The taste of ash and smoke in my mouth evokes a sudden onset of nausea.
I start coughing and frantically feeling around me with my hands. There is soft fabric under my palms. It seems I am on a bed. I try to sit up, but only yelp at the searing pain in my muscles and all over my skin. I am alive after all, burnt, blind, completely helpless, but still breathing. It is no surprise that I am hesitant to call it luck. If the beast has dragged me into its lair to eat me later, there is nothing I can do about it. It is weird that a dragon has a bed and drinks coffee, but I am probably not fully conscious and my brain is confusing reality with fantasy. Or I might really be dead after all.
“Hey, you’re awake.” I jump at the sound of the friendly, male voice. “Don’t move, buddy. You’re not in a good shape. That wildfire almost took your life. You really got lucky. Good that I found you on time.”
“I… Wildfire? Didn’t you see it?…Who are you? Where am I?” I stop for a second to take a deep, painful breath. A human. He found me. I reach out to where the mattress sinks under the stranger’s weight and whisper, “There was a SUP… a dragon. You saw it, right?”
“You’re in shock,” the man says calmly, taking my hand and putting a glass in it. “There are no dragons. This is water with medicine in it. We need to clean you up and take care of your wounds. You have quite a few burns, but nothing to worry about. You’ll be as good as new in a couple of weeks. The treatment is painful, though. That’s why I want you to drink this. It’s a very strong pain killer.”
I drink obediently the whole content of the glass. It is bitter, but cold and like a blessing for my dry throat. I don’t doubt the man’s intentions. Humans trust each other unconditionally. There is no other way to survive. I myself would do anything to help if someone is in trouble.
“My name is Gideon. Call me Deon. You’re Chris, right?” He carefully puts his palm on my forehead and sighs. “I think you have a fever. I’ll cut your clothes and put you in a cool bath. You can’t use them again anyway. They look more like burnt rags.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask, nodding in agreement.
“Well, you look like a well-done stake right now and you’ve grown up quite a bit, but I was still able to recognize you. Your pictures are all over the house. You were no more than ten on the latest one, I think.”
“What?” I screech, but quickly lower my voice at the piercing pain in my throat, caused by my strident reaction. “What do you mean?”
“I believe, I live in your childhood house,” the man chuckles softly. His laughter is warm. It gives me comfort. “I found it five years ago, empty and totally ruined, but only on the outside. Almost everything was untacked inside. I had to do a lot of repairs. You’ll like it when you see it.”
“See it,” I frown. “I see nothing. I’m blind.”
“No, you’re not,” he laughs more. I like it. I haven’t heard the sound of laughter for so long. “Your eyes are contaminated and there is some damage to the retina. Nothing permanent, though. They need flushing and it will take some time, but you’ll make a full recovery.”
“Thank you, Deon,” I mumble. “You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.” He squeezes lightly my hand and I am sure he’s smiling. I feel warmth and serenity for the first time in many years. He seems a good man. I trust him. Maybe, I found a friend, in my own house, twenty years after I left it. I almost died to come back home and it was worth it, even if only to know that it is someone’s home again and to smell the freshly brewed coffee one more time.
The pain has subsided. The medicine has worked. I feel calm and relaxed.
“There was a dragon,” I barely utter. “Its eyes were blue. It was looking straight at me.”
“There are no dragons, Chris,” the man laughs softly and the kindness in his deep, raspy voice lures me to sleep.
Photo 249430010 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
Photo 118838732 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello wonderful readers!
Thank you so much for your support! ❤❤❤
What are your first impressions of Deon?
Do we trust him?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
3. Blur (Chris)
I am woken up again, by the movement this time. I am being carried in someone’s strong arms. My eyes are burning and itching. It is not pleasant at all. I don’t mind it since I can see blurry images now instead of complete darkness. I still can’t distinguish anything specific, but at least there is light.
“I flushed your eyes with irrigating solution,” I hear Deon’s voice close to my ear. “The retinal condition turned out to be better than I thought. They will recover completely, but I’ll have to apply antiseptic drops and painkillers for a few days and it’s a good idea to wear a bandage during the course of treatment.”
“Alright,” I nod. “I know the house. I don’t need to see to be able to move around. It’s not a problem. I always travel at night anyway and avoid using my flashlight. I’m used to finding my way in the dark.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure whether to admire you for being so brave or pity you for being so stupid,” Deon sighs. “You shouldn’t have taken suppressants. They make people absolutely reckless. You could’ve burned to ashes in that fire.”
“The SUPs can smell fear,” I retort. “I had no chance without the pills.”
“What SUPs?” he laughs softly. “Do you still insist you saw something that is totally impossible? There are neither SUPs nor ORDs around, just a few normal animals – rabbits, squirrels, foxes. How do you think I would’ve survived here for years if this was monsters’ territory?”
“I saw a dragon,” I stubbornly state.
“You saw nothing,” Dion keeps chuckling. “Overheating and pain made you imagine things. Haven’t you heard of hallucinations? The forest is drier than cinder. Wildfires start all the time. You were at the wrong place in the wrong time. That’s all… Now, breathe. This might be a little shocking.”
I hiss when my body is lowered into a bathtub of cold, milky white liquid.
“It’s ok,” he pats my hand. “You’ll get used to the temperature in few minutes. Silver sulfadiazine and some other stuff. Your back is severely burnt, perhaps because you were leaning on that red-hot rock. The rest of your body is better.”
I wait for a while until my hectic breathing calms down and stutter, “W-what w-were you d-d-oing there?”
“You’ll see soon,” he answers. “Grilled meat. Those wildfires spread so fast that animals fail to escape. You just go and collect your food for several weeks ahead. Much easier than hunting. You don’t even have to cook.”
“Whoa,” I giggle, finally feeling more comfortable in my freezing cold, healing basin. “Clever… but dangerous. You could’ve gotten hurt too.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’m pretty good at that,” he says proudly. Then his voice becomes serious. “Weren’t you settled in a protected area after The Impact? Why didn’t you stay in the assigned shelter? Sorry, but I looked through your belongings. Wanted to see if you were on some kind of medications, if you had allergies and so on. Every single item has a government seal. Why did you leave? Those places are the safest you can find. People stay there if they want to remain alive. You can’t just wander across the wild lands.”
“I wanted to come home,” I mutter, realizing how stupid it all was. I would’ve never reached the house if it wasn’t for him. “Shelters are not for me. They make me feel like a prisoner.”
“I see,” he says thoughtfully. “How long did you stay there before you left?”
“A year at the first one, right after The Impact,” I answer. “Then I stole a motorbike. I preferred to travel. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that engine vibrations attract ORDs too quickly. I stopped at another shelter after some time and one more over the years, mostly because of school and training. You have to know how to handle things. But I didn’t stick around for long, just to learn what I needed.”
“What?” he bellows. “Are you saying you’ve been roaming the wasteland all alone since you were eleven? You must be in your thirties, right? That makes it twenty years! How did you survive?… Wow!… That’s too crazy!”
“Yeah,” I grin. “I am that ingenious. I fight my own battles.”
“You are out of your mind,” he whispers in disbelief.
I stare in his voice’s direction, but see no face, no figure, nothing, only blur. Still, I am convinced he is gazing back at me. I can feel his eyes studying my features.
“In fact, you’re the most courageous person I’ve ever met,” he finally utters quietly. “I should be thankful. The loneliness was starting to get to me. It’s not a good thing… Welcome home, Chris!”
“Thank you,” I smile. I know he is smiling back.
I have questions too, many questions, but I have neither the strength, nor the desire to ask them now. The comfortable silence settles between us, as if we are old friends who do not need many words to understand each other. The feeling is new and consoling. I stay quiet and hope it lasts as long as possible, but reality kicks in and my stomach rumbles, ruining the moment.
“When did you last eat?” Deon asks. I hear some shuffling and then feel his hands carefully slipping behind my knees and under my arms. “I’ll pick you up and put you on a chair, so that I can tuck you in a towel. Can you hold on to me, please? You’re as light as a feather, but I want to make sure I won’t drop you.”
“A day or two ago. I don’t really remember,” I answer. Food has never been a priority. Water and finding a hiding place were much more important. I slowly trace his chest until my arms wrap around his neck. He doesn’t seem to mind that I get him all wet, but I still mutter, “Sorry!”
Deon smells good. I recognize vanilla and bergamot. I remember all those scents. They remind me of mom’s shower gel and dad’s perfume. It’s pure luxury to smell like that these days. He is also impressively strong and very agile. I am entranced by the movements of his muscles while he scoops me up and carries me like it’s nothing. My arms tighten around him. I’ve never been embraced by anyone as an adult. I’ve never even been this close to another person. My heart skips a beat at the realization. I was so lonely all these years, desperately denying the end of my world. I wasn’t running away from the safety of the shelters. I was trying to prove like a stubborn child that it’s not over yet and all can be like before. But it can’t. I’ll have to accept the truth and grow up. The house is no more my home and I need this kindness, offered by a stranger. Tears roll down my cheeks and I am not even trying to stop them. It’s over. I was eleven and I saw the end of the world. The past can’t be brought back.
“Hey, are you ok?” Deon asks. “I know you’re in pain and you must be terribly afraid, but you can trust me. Everything will be fine, Chris. I promise. You will stay here with me. It’s your home after all.”
“My home is gone,” I sob. “I have nothing. I am no one. I lost everything.”
“Then you’ll start all over again,” he mumbles. I feel a soft fabric envelop me and his warm lips press against my forehead. “We will.”
Photo 118838704 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
Photo by SplitShire: https://www.pexels.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 3!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Do you think Chris will stay with Deon?
Was there a dragon or it was just a hallucination?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
4. Heaven or Hell (Chris)
“This towel is incredibly soft and smells like peaches,” I utter in awe, tilting my head to the side to rub my cheek against the featherlike material. “I would’ve thought you used fabric softener if I didn’t know it was impossible to find it these days.”
“Believe it or not, you’re right,” Deon chuckles. “I’m pretty sparing with it and only use it on a very special occasion. This is actually the second time in five years. The first one was when I found the house. There is a closet in the basement, stocked with all sorts of amazing goods. Didn’t you know about it?”
“Oh, that must be mom’s stash.” I wince at the sharp pain, making my heart sink at the memory. I have to take few deep breaths to stop the tears before continuing. “Dad always joked that she was hoarding like a squirrel, gathering food for the winter. He said he’d open a department store one day and become filthy rich from all the stuff she had piled up. The truth was she loved shopping and had a hard time controlling herself. He didn’t really mind. She was everything to him.”
“I’m sorry,” Deon squeezes my hand.
“I know,” I whisper.
There is no need for more words. We breathe in silence, holding hands. No one escaped loss and grief. People don’t discuss it, never ask questions. We are just there for each other on the rare occasions when we are able to feel closeness to another human being.
“I’m taking you to bed now,” Deon finally announces, wrapping me tightly in the towel and picks me up again. “I need you to lie on your stomach for a while. I’ll apply ointment on your back and bandage you. Is that ok?”
“Yes, thank you!” I mumble and curl up in his arms. It is strange how this man makes me feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. No one is as calm as he is in these terrible times when food and water are luxuries and horrifying beasts roam the land. He seems to fear nothing and my wellbeing is his only concern. It feels almost normal, as if the world will not be in ruins when I regain my sight. I hesitate a little before asking, “What about you? Why didn’t you stay in one of the protected areas?”
“I’ve never been there,” he answers with a tone, clearly indicating that further questions on the subject are not welcome. I get the hint and change the topic. “Are you a medical doctor? It looks like you know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, sort of,” he shrugs his shoulders. “You’re in good hands with me. Don’t worry. Careful now. Don’t lay on your back.”
I am cautiously lowered to sit on the bed. The towel wrinkles around my waist, but I am quick to pull it to my chest, so that I can lay on it. I don’t want to lose contact with the heavenly softness.
“It might hurt a little, but I’ll try to be as gentle as possible.” Deon’s fingers spread the ointment causing almost no discomfort. My skin must be very damaged, but he acts like a professional, even tries to distract me from the pain during the procedure. “So, how old are you?”
“I’ll turn thirty one in few months,” I answer. “What about you?”
“Mmm… I… Let’s say I’m a bit older than you,” he hesitantly murmurs under his breath. “Forty?”
“Are you asking me?” I giggle. “Did you forget your age? Where are you from?”
“Sorry,” he laughs nervously. “Of course not. I was too focused on what I was doing. Didn’t want to hurt you. I’m forty. I’ve been to too many places. Never stayed long enough to call any of them home. Maybe, this one is the closest to home I’ve ever had… Alright, this is the last bandage. We’re done. Turn around. I’ll put drops in your eyes and we’ll go eat.”
“I didn’t want to be nosy,” I mutter remorsefully. The man is clearly not eager to talk about himself. “You must have been through a lot.”
“Haven’t we all?” he sighs. “It’s fine. Not your fault. I guess, I’ve forgotten how to have a normal conversation. Give me some time and I’ll get better at communicating.”
“What else did you find in mom’s closet?” I ask curiously, changing the subject again. This seems more casual and safe to talk about. Obviously, there are things he’d rather not discuss. I am not willing to push it either. “Anything else I’ve not seen in ages?”
“Oh, you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” he confirms animatedly. “Herbs and spices. There are tons of them. I don’t usually season food that much, but today I gave my best shot at cooking.”
“I used to be really good at cooking as a kid,” I chitter enthusiastically, rolling on my back. “I’ll show you what I’m capable of next time… I mean, when I regain my sight… if you don’t mind.”
“Sounds great… Open your eyes as wide as you can and look up. This is going to sting. Try not to move.” Deon grips my chin to keep my head steady. I don’t even tremble when the burning liquid fills my eyes. “Good job, Chris! You are a true fighter, aren’t you? I’m putting gauze pads and a blindfold and that will be all for today.”
“What time is it?” I ask while he is helping me dress up. “Are these your clothes?”
“More like yours,” he says, “or rather your father’s. It’s two a.m. You look exhausted and in need of lots of sleep. Just a quick dinner… or breakfast… whatever it is… and I’ll let you have some rest.”
“Can I have some coffee?” I grin. “You have coffee, right? I smelled it.”
“Sure,” Deon agrees. “I doubt it will disturb your sleep. You’re too tired anyway. Let’s go.”
I take his hand and let him guide me around the house. He warns me of every turn and doorstep, but I unmistakably recognize the rooms. We were in the master bedroom on the second floor. Now we are going down the stairs. I know precisely how many steps there are, then a turn to the right, a short walk across the living room and we are in the kitchen. I feel my way towards the dining table and settle on a chair. The kitchen island must be to my right and the big French doors, leading to the front lawn to my left. I wonder if the big painting, reproduction of Vincent van Gogh’s sunflowers, is still on the wall in front of me. I intend to ask, but the mouthwatering flavor of freshly cooked food makes me forget about everything else.
“Oh, my God!” I scream. “Is this black pepper and bay leaf? I think, I’m going to faint.”
“Not before you try my famous stewed rabbit with baked potatoes,” Deon laughs out. “Here, meat on nine o’clock, potatoes on twelve and cabbage salad on three. Enjoy your meal!”
“Where the hell did you get potatoes and cabbage from?” I exclaim incredulously, digging my fingers in the food. My mouth is stuffed to the brim in seconds. I am surely not a pretty sight, but who cares. Manners can wait for some other time when I am not starved to death. I swallow and take a breath, “This is delicious!”
“Thanks! Glad you like it. I grow them myself,” Deon proudly states. “I’ve built a greenhouse in the backyard.”
“Isn’t the soil contaminated?” I garble, shoving more food in my mouth.
“Not everywhere,” he says, placing something close to my hand. “Your coffee. Don’t hurry. It’s hot.”
I sip from the steaming cup and wrinkle my nose. It is bitter and sweet at the same time. I like it.
“This is unbelievable.” I smile from ear to ear. “I’ve never thought I would be having dinner with a friend, in a house, in MY house. This must be heaven.”
“Sometimes, heaven and hell are not that different,” Deon utters quietly. “It’s hard to tell them apart.”
Photo 121372815 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
Photo 176913358 / Blindfold © Marcos Calvo Mesa | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 4!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
What do you think Deon meant?
Did Chris find himself in heaven or hell?
Is he in danger?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
5. A Phone Call (Chris)
My sleep is interrupted again. It seems to be shortly after I curled in the middle of my parents’ king size bed and dozed off, soothed, fed and much happier than I had felt in years, despite the burns and my damaged vision. It doesn’t take much to wake me up, even more so now, when thousands of questions about the kind, mysterious man who lives in my house are running through my head. I am used to being constantly on my guard. Any noise, even the slightest, would send me on alert. It is a lifesaver, especially if you are trying to keep out of sight, hidden among the branches, on top of a fifty-foot tree, or a vicious, mutated predator is lurking around, looking for its dinner.
This time, though, I am truly dumbfounded. I could swear I just heard a phone ring. How can it be? There are no telecommunications. There is no internet. There isn’t even electricity. What the hell? I am more than sure it was not a dream or a hallucination. I am not imagining, not after the fabric softener, the coffee and the seasoned, cooked food which were all beyond belief and yet so damn real. But how is this possible? Potatoes… cabbage… irrigation solution… in the middle of nowhere, after a cataclysm that nearly destroyed everything on the planet… and now this… a telephone?!
The decision to stay still and wait to see what happens next seems the most reasonable one. I continue to breathe evenly, lying on my stomach without moving a single muscle, pretending that I am sound asleep. A few seconds pass in tense anticipation and then I hear it again, a distinctive, sharp beep which can be produced by nothing else, but an electronic device and more precisely a cell phone. The hairs on my skin prickle. This is too much for my dizzy mind to grasp. The fact that I am temporary blind does not make things better either.
I am all ears, straining to catch the slightest sound. The device must be somewhere on the first floor. I hear hurried footsteps and muffled noises, indicating that Deon is searching around the living room. I caused the man too much trouble. He has most probably forgotten where he left it. A barely audible curse, muttered under his breath, is followed by a soft click, showing that my new, unexpected tenant managed to pick up a moment before the next ring.
The greetings are quick and stark, like in the army. I am getting more and more curious. It is totally unhealthy and I am well aware of that, but I just can’t control it. Deon talks in whispers. It is impossible to understand what the conversation is about. This whole situation is too odd. I need to know what is happening. I can’t just stay motionless, sprawled on the sheets, and do nothing. It is against my nature. So, I decide to take my chances and slide out of bed as carefully as I can. Luckily, I don’t make any noise. My extensive experience in sneaking into close proximity to deadly dangers undetected definitely helps. I crawl on all fours towards the nearest wall, feeling a bit more confident in what I am doing, then follow it to the door which leads to the staircase. It turns out to be open. That’s good. It gives me the opportunity to roll silently over the doorstep, drag myself across the narrow landing and crouch down behind the solid, wooden railing.
A sigh of relief escapes my trembling lips when I am finally curled up in my spy hideout. It must be very early in the morning, meaning the house is dark. But then again, I can’t be sure of that with the blindfold covering my eyes. I carefully lift it up and stare into the empty space in front of me. There is not even a faint hint of light, no blurry images, just pitch black. So, I am right. If Deon had decided to look up, he wouldn’t have seen me, even if I hadn’t managed to make myself invisible in my secluded spot.
“No, Sir,” he suddenly grumbles. “There is a change of plan. You can’t call me anymore. You’ll wait for me to contact you from now on.”
There is a short silence. The person on the other end of the line is speaking. Deon’s breathing slightly quickens. Maybe, he is excited or rather doesn’t like what he is being told.
“General, I assure you the new circumstances will not jeopardize the schedule. I strongly advise you to take no actions and keep your men as far from the agreed perimeter as possible… No… I am convinced we’ll have the expected results soon… I… Well…” The hesitation in his voice is unmistakable. He takes a few deep breaths as if to gain more time, but finally adds unwillingly, “I am not alone. I found a man. He’ll be staying with me… Not in a very good shape… Yeah, he needs medical treatment… No, I disagree… This is a decision only I have the right to make. Do not try to nose in my private life, if you want our cooperation to continue successfully… I said, NO!”
The last sentence is almost yelled. The other man is agitated too. I can hear his angry voice booming through the receiver. Apparently he is trying to persuade Deon to change his mind. I feel this is somehow related to my unexpected appearance. Maybe, my presence is interfering with their plans.
Deon sighs deeply and says in a softer voice, “I know what is at stake, Sir. You don’t have to remind me. I would give anything to forget it, but unfortunately, it is the only thought my brain can focus on. I will not break my word. Just stay out of the way… Goodbye, General. I’ll call you in a week.”
I throw myself to the bedroom door the moment it becomes clear that the conversation is over. Not that I am afraid. If he wanted to harm me, he wouldn’t have spend hours in treating my wounds, cooking for me and trying to comfort me. I am actually ashamed. Sneaking in the dark and eavesdropping on other people’s conversations isn’t something that makes me proud of myself. It was pretty obvious the general didn’t want me around. Deon was defending me. He doesn’t deserve to be repaid this way.
It all makes a bit more sense now. This must be a military operation. There are special forces. They have resources. In fact, they control all the resources available, governing them under strict rules, so that the shelters can function as long as possible, protecting the last survivors. I’ve heard of an active satellite. That would explain the phone. The soldiers do not stay in the shelters. They have missions to explore the land and find uncontaminated areas where food can be still grown, to look for fuel, to chase the monsters away. They also do scientific research in an attempt to restore the environment. It requires some of them to travel to distant, uninhabited regions, considered dangerous and restricted to civilians. This in turn could explain why Deon lives here alone and how he has things that can only be found in the refuges. I should’ve guessed from the beginning, but I couldn’t think straight because of the shock.
Yes, the puzzle seems to be coming together. There is, however, something not quite right. The way Deon was talking to the general, as if he wasn’t one of the military, but rather an outsider doing them some kind of a favor. He didn’t sound like a soldier reporting to his superior. It was more than clear that my new acquaintance was the one setting the terms of their collaboration. Who could be higher in rank than a general, or at least more important to the mission? A scientist? In any case, I’d rather he doesn’t find out what I’ve done.
I climb on the bed and take my previous position. My heart will jump out of my chest. It’s difficult to calm down and breathe normally hearing his quick steps up the stairs. It becomes quiet again. I can sense him standing in the door frame and staring at me.
“Relax. Don’t be afraid,” he says softly. “I know you are not sleeping. We need to talk.”
Photo 245320249 / Man © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
Photo 249430211 / Man © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 5!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Who do you think Deon is - a soldier, a scientist or something else?
Any guesses on Deon’s mission?
Chris has no idea what his companion looks like.
Maybe it’s time for him to get some idea.
Are we ready to ‘see’ Deon? 😁
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
6. Blue (Chris)
“Who are you?” I immediately shoot, sitting up and gazing into the darkness. There is no point in playing oblivious. He already knows I’ve heard everything. “Are you from the military forces? What is your mission?”
“Wasting no time, huh?” Deon sighs. “And, boy, you do have some courage. I’ve already seen that you’re a person who faces challenges head on, and yet you continue to prove it. Let’s calm down first and we’ll talk.”
“Answer me,” I insist, slightly flustered by the praise. “I’m no obstacle to your operation. What possibly could I do to get in the way? I’m blind, barely breathing and with second degree burns on half of my body. Not that there is anyone I can spill classified information to, even if I wanted. I am all alone in this world and entirely at your mercy. You can eliminate me right here and now, if you decide, and not a soul would look for me… I only want to know what I’m dealing with.”
“Heyy, what are you talking about?” He interrupts me gently, sitting next to me. I feel his warm palms cupping my face. “Why would you say shit like that? I know this all must seem crazy as hell to you, but when did I give you any impression I was going to hurt you? I am not a monster… Fuck! Don’t worry, alright? You’re safe. I swear.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, unconsciously leaning into his hands for consolation, shame washing over me. “I’m not ungrateful. It’s just… you’re secretive… and the phone… and everything else. I wish so badly I could see your face right now.”
A severe blush heats my cheeks at the last sentence. The words slipped out of my mouth on their own. I didn’t want to blurt this out loud. Deon’s amused laughter only fuels my embarrassment. I am an idiot. This is what happens when you refuse to live among your own kind and prefer to roam the wasteland alone instead. Total lack of social skills.
“Chris.” Deon is laughing quietly while his thumbs are rubbing soothingly along the outlines of my jaw. “You’re cute.”
The statement only makes me blush harder. What the hell? I must look like shit. That’s how I feel at least. I find absolutely nothing cute about my skinny, scruffy, haggard self and this is the first time I am actually bothered by the fact. There is a warm, sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach which almost makes me sick. My hands start shaking. I instinctively clench my fists to make them stop. It feels like fever. I gasp for air. The only time I’ve ever felt this way was when the boy next door invited me to the pool party for his birthday. We were nine. It was a few months before The Impact. He told me he liked how I looked in a swimsuit and that I had nice abs. I almost drowned that day and it wasn’t because I didn’t know how to swim. But I am not a child anymore and this definitely can’t be flirting. The man probably pities me and is simply trying to make me feel better.
“Listen,” Deon says amiably, taking my hands in his. “I don’t want you to be on the lookout all the time. Stop freaking out. I can’t tell you everything. You won’t understand it. Not yet. But I’ll give you all the information I can. It has to be enough for now, ok?”
I nod in agreement, still dazed and embarrassed, but a bit calmer. I am not used to be touched. Strangely, despite my suspiciousness, Deon’s closeness seems to steady my nerves.
“I’m not from the military forces, but I collaborate with them,” he starts. “I experiment with a new technology which can eventually decontaminate soil and change everything in the course of time. We are on an early stage. I have only a greenhouse for now and several fields, situated on different locations in the valley. The army is guarding a wide area, keeping the ORDs away, so that I can work undisturbed. They supply me with everything I need, but also demand for quick results. The person who called was the general in charge of the project. He is an ass, but I get his motives. Food is running out on a global scale. Some animal species have adapted to the new conditions. Toxins have integrated into their system and they can digest anything edible they find. They seem to be in accelerated evolution mode. Unfortunately, it doesn’t apply to humans. We need quick solutions to prevent extinction.”
“I understand,” I mumble. “Sorry for doubting you and causing more trouble than you already have.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Deon squeezes my hands which are still comfortably resting in his. “You have every right to be here. This is your house. I’m glad you came.”
“I can help you when I get better,” I offer eagerly. “I won’t be a burden. I’ll do anything you tell me. It would be great to be a part of this project. Saving the world is something worth fighting for.”
“Cool off, Chris,” Deon pats my knee. “let’s heal you first. And be careful what you ask for. There’s too much digging, plowing and sowing involved in this for it to be fun.”
“Sounds great,” I smile sheepishly. “Yeah, you’re right. That dragon surely ruffled my feathers pretty good. I only wonder why it didn’t kill me. How come you didn’t see it? It was huge, dwarfing the oak trees. And that dreadful hiss. You can’t have missed it….”
I hear a snort, followed by another ripple of soft laughter.
“Did you just roll your eyes,” I squeal. “I know you did. Don’t make fun of me. I saw what I saw.”
“Yeah,” he quips. “And the soldiers with all the surveillance equipment didn’t. They must have been asleep. Don’t you think the General would’ve mentioned it, if a SUP had crept nearby?”
“You can mock me as much as you want, but… Wait!” I breathe out startled. He lifts my hands and places my open palms on his cheeks. “What are you doing?”
“It’s not the same as actually seeing me,” Deon says. “But you can still get some idea of what I look like by touching. I’m not a cover model, but it’s not that bad either. I don’t think I’ll scare you off… at least I hope so. Go on!”
The shaking of my hands is back in full force. I bite my lip in an attempt to control it. That’s too many touches in one day for me to be relaxed, but I can’t miss the opportunity. The curiosity is stronger than the nervous tension.
“Breathe, Chris. Just breathe and touch,” Deon utters quietly. “It’s ok. You need reassurance. Knowing my face will give you more comfort. We can be friends. I am a friend. You only need to accept it.”
I take a deep breath. My heart is racing. He is right. I need this or the uncertainty will bring out the worst in me. I can do it. My fingers are stiff, as if frozen. Maybe, that’s why the warmth, radiating from his smooth skin feels like fire beneath them. I wait for the sensation to become more familiar and help me shake off my numbness. Then I move my hands up, tracing his high cheekbones. They are well defined, perfectly proportioned and hint at a certain sublimity in his features. I slide my fingertips further until they reach the edge of spectacle frames.
“You wear glasses,” I exclaim in surprise.
“Ugh…yes. I don’t see that well with these eyes,” he mumbles. “You don’t like glasses?”
“No! Nooo! I like glasses. Of course, I do. Yes, I love it when people wear glasses… What do you mean you don’t see well with these eyes? You really use awkward expressions sometimes,” I chuckle. “You don’t have another pair, do you?”
“I’m just teasing you,” he smiles. “I can be funny, right? It’s great to see you cheered up.”
I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to touch his lips. Maybe, it is not a good idea, but how could one get an accurate picture of someone’s face without knowing the shape of their mouth. I can’t stop anyway, so I gather my courage and slip one palm under his chin and the other over his jaw. He has five-day stubble. I wonder what color it is. It’s soft and pleasant to the touch, tempting me to explore more. I run my fingertips over his bottom lip first and then over the top one, following its perfect Cupid’s bow. His lips are full and firm. His hot breath makes my skin tingle. This man must be really handsome. I don’t need to be able to see to be sure of it. I pull my hands away, embarrassed by the unexpected course of my actions and thoughts. I don’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already is.
Deon clears his throat, a bit anxiously. It seems I made him feel uncomfortable. Did I cross a line? I should have stopped.
“I’m sorry,” I barely whisper. “I…”
“No,” he instantly stops me. “I should be the one apologizing. I lived alone for too long. Your touch affected me more than I expected. It was nice. You have gentle hands. Umm… I hope you’re not disappointed by what you discovered.”
“Oh, no, on the contrary,” I shake my head. I am still tense, so I try to ease my self-consciousness with a clumsy joke. “Well, maybe a little. It seems you’re much better looking than me. I can’t say it makes me happy. I was convinced I was the handsome one.”
We both laugh. I feel brave enough to ask one more question. “What color are your eyes?”
“Blue,” Deon answers.
Photo 36763948 © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com
Photo 32608394 © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 6!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Is this what you expected Deon to look like?
Do you think there is more behind him being so nice to Chris?
What is Deon not telling him?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
7. Just a Dream (Chris)
It’s a dream. I know it. That’s why I am not scared, only bewildered by the dark universe around me. There are stars, twinkling in large constellations, near and far. I can distinguish each one of them. I even believe I can touch them if I stretch out my hand. They are moving in giant whirlpools as I float freely through the space between them. This place is beyond imagination, vibrating with palpable energy that makes my whole body tremble in inexplicable euphoria. I somehow feel this is my final destination. I was meant to be right here, in a world I never knew existed, but which has always belonged to me.
I wave my hand lightly and the flickering sparks flow like a river of gold dust, swept away by the current I have created, forming a long, inviting path before me. One of them approaches, spinning around my open palm and finally lands in the middle like a curious firefly. It burns my skin, but I stay still. It is too beautiful to chase away.
“Follow me!” The voice is gentle and resonant. It sounds as if all the other starlets are ringing, echoing the words. “Follow the string… the string… the string…”
I see it, a faint thread of silvery light, gleaming in the very core of matter and time, but existing beyond them. It leads to my destiny.
I follow the starry road, or rather fly above it, keeping my eyes on the mysterious radiance. My body is weightless. My thoughts are random. I marvel at the small, glowing particles. Happiness overwhelms me, but also a primal fear that every wonderful thing comes with a price, and since all of this is so magnificent, the cost will be too big, one that I cannot bear to pay. Memories are flushing through my mind - my mother’s smile; dad’s motorbike; a clear, blue, swimming pool; the tender lover I’ve never had… How do I remember him, if I’ve never met him? Who is he? Maybe, he didn’t survive the end of the world. I would’ve met him, if we could avoid The Impact, but the disaster happened and I lost both my past and my future…
Suddenly, I can’t carry the burden of the present day any longer. Tears fill my eyes and roll down my face like a waterfall of despair. People say ‘live for the moment’, but I am made of debris. My destroyed past won’t leave me and I have no hope for the future to cure the pain. I don’t deserve to be here. Sometimes, heaven and hell are not that different. It’s hard to tell them apart. Someone told me so and now I understand the meaning.
I barely see the shining string, but keep chasing it closely. Losing it is unthinkable. It gives me the only purpose I have now.
The dusk bursts into flames
before my eyes
. The stars scatter , fluttering around like a flock of frightened sparrows. Only my firefly is still beaming next to me, spreading warmth, as if to reassure me that everything will be fine and I need not to be afraid.
Flapping wings and a familiar, horrifying hiss break the silence. He appears in the fire hurricane, as inevitable as death and majestic as life itself. The King is here for me. I have come to submit. His scales are glittering in iridescent black and purple colors as his agile body is writhing, cloaked in light and shadow. The powerful muscles strain with every swish of his huge wings. Pointed spikes cover his broad back, long neck and mighty tail, each one about my height. His head is crowned by two twisted horns, white as the razor-sharp teeth in his gaping mouth.
I am petrified. My star-bug burns my palm again. I can hear the voice, “Don’t be afraid. Follow the string… the string… the string…”
But I am only human in the face of a monster.
I am frozen, shaking, aghast and screaming to the top of my lungs. This is not a cry for help. I know I’m alone. There is no one else. I don’t have anyone left who would care enough to fight a dragon for me. I am simply crying my fear out, because it’s the only thing I can do.
***
“Chris! Wake up!”
***
I raise my head and meet two
enchanting
, blue eyes, staring at me. Their color is like the frozen ocean waves in the Antarctic, cold and alluring. I am gazing back. My screams have turned into quiet sobs. I am drowning into their cobalt void and there is no escape.
***
“Chris! Wake up! It’s just a dream.” I feel a gentle tap on the shoulder and light, warm touches all over my face. Someone’s soft palm is caressing my cheek. “It’s ok. You’re safe. You had a nightmare, but it’s over now. Everything’s fine. I’m here.”
“Deon?” I barely utter. My throat is dry. I am still shaking, drenched in a cold sweat.
“Yes, it’s me,” he instantly responds, brushing the dump hair away from my face. “You were screaming and tossing in bed. I had to wake you up. I’m sorry. You sounded terrified.”
“Oh, my God!” I gasp in relief. “You can’t imagine what I was dreaming about… the place I saw… It was crazy. I was floating in the open space, above a road made of starts, but they weren’t exactly stars, and it wasn’t exactly a road… I mean, I heard voices, chanting about it… the string… and then…”
“Shh,” he presses his fingers to my lips to stop me. “Don’t tell me. Don’t say it out loud. Do you remember school?”
“Yes,” I nod in confusion, trying to sit up. “Why?”
“What did you do every time your teacher gave you an assignment to memorize a poem?” he asks, gripping my forearms to pull me up. “Here. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.” I trace the blindfold and scrunch my nose. I really wish I could see Deon’s face, even more now that I know his features and how touching him made me feel. I must have given him a jolt with my idiotic screams and he still sounds so nice and composed. This man is as patient as a rock. I try to focus and answer his question. “Umm, memorize a poem? Well, I read it out loud, time after time, until I could repeat it without looking at the book. I usually got it right by the tenth try.”
“Exactly,” he says victoriously. “When something is being vocalized, your brain is prompted to remember it more quickly because it becomes real. If It’s part of reality, it must be recorded, studied and taken into account. Basic survival instinct.”
“Oh, wow! I see the logic,” I grin, much more relaxed than before. “Never thought about it this way, but the explanation seems quite plausible.”
“Thank you, kind sir!” He sounds so proud of himself. It’s cute. “So, If that nightmare was too distressing, you better not signal your brain to store the information by telling me about it.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I nod in agreement. “It was too awkward anyway. You don’t need to hear about singing stars and a dragon who seemed to give a shit about me instead of considering me its next meal.”
“SUBs are intelligent species,” Deon murmurs under his breath. “They don’t feed on humans.”
“What?” I shriek. “How do you know that? There is hardly anyone who has survived being close enough to have a good look at any of them, let alone judge their reasoning abilities.”
“The army knows a lot,” he retorts somewhat pointedly. “Even more than they’d like to admit.”
“Really?” I shift closer to him. The overwhelming curiosity quickens my breathing. I have never ever expected to learn something so fascinating. “Did the general give you this kind of information? For protection? Because you are here alone? Have they communicated with them? Does it apply to all five species?”
“Whoa! Slow down. I thought we wanted to get rid of the nightmare, not make it more vivid,” Deon protests. “Don’t get obsessed by things that freak you out. It’s classified anyway, so stop trying. Enough talk about scary beasts. You need a nutritious breakfast and life will be good again. How about poached eggs and homemade toast with strawberry jam?”
“Huh?” I gulp in shock. I am still tempted to keep digging into the SUBs topic, but the new bait is even more irresistible. “Strawberry jam? You have eggs, and bread, and strawberry jam?”
“Come on!” He grabs my hand and jumps up. “I’ll show you the chickens after we eat.”
“Chickens,” I repeat incredulously and slide out of bed.
“Mhm,” Deon laughs, “and so much more.”
Photo 080230886 © TSUKIYO | istockphoto.com
Photo 1156258851 © Vac1 | istockphoto.com
Photo 1355637228 © Vac1 | istockphoto.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 7!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Was it just a dream or there’s something more?
What do you think about the SUPs being intelligent?
Are they animals that have mutated because of the toxins like the ORDs?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
8. Ice Bird (Chris)
“So you grow wheat?” I ask, carefully tracing the piece of toast Deon just placed in my hand with the tips of my fingers .
I am not hungry. The quantity of food I devoured last night would usually last me for several days. My stomach hurts. It was nothing like the quickly baked fish and wild tubers I am used to eating, after carefully examining them for traces of deadly toxins. Everything was so delicious that it didn’t cross my mind spices and overindulgence might not be good for me.
“No,” Deon answers. “Growing wheat is impossible. The soil is no longer fertile enough for the purpose. Same goes for corn and rice. We are forced to go back to the ancient crops that people grew before modern agriculture was developed. I’m talking about barley, teff, oats. In fact, in addition to being more sustainable, they are also healthier. This is a very nutritious bread by an Ethiopian recipe. It contains only teff flour, water and wild yeast. Try it. It will benefit your muscles, strengthen your heart and nervous system.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can put a bite in my mouth,” I mumble. “At least not now. I am really grateful for everything you do for me and don’t want to be rude…”
“It’s ok, Chris,” he pats my hand. “Don’t worry. You need time to switch to normal food again. Step by step. We’re in no hurry. I can give you some antacid if you feel unwell.”
“No, thank you. I’ll live. What about the strawberry jam?” I ask again out of pure curiosity. “Is the soil good enough to grow fruit?”
“Oh, no,” Deon says with noticeable regret in his voice. “That would be even harder. Only some particularly resistant vegetables can endure the harsh conditions, even though the environment in the greenhouse is strictly controlled. The jam is from your mom’s stash, a twenty-year-old treat. If something has enough sugar in it and is vacuum sealed, it can practically last forever.”
“I doubt it,” I laugh. “But why didn’t you open it earlier?”
“Umm, I’m on a special diet,” he mutters. “I avoid spices, salt, sugar and some other foods, quite a few of them actually. Not a big deal. Most can no longer be found anyway.”
“Oh,” I nod in understanding. “Thank you for seasoning the food especially for me.”
“You should really stop thanking me,” Deon chuckles. “You are very welcome. I enjoy taking care of someone so nice and agreeable. You certainly deserve it. Not that I wouldn’t do it if you were a grumbler.”
I am about to thank him again when a strange noise, reminiscent of a triggered off security alarm is heard nearby. It becomes louder by the second.
“Fuck!” Deon groans. “Does it have to be right now? I’m such an idiot.”
“What?” I breathe out. His hesitation about how to proceed is obvious. He is nervous and I feel him getting more and more tense with each passing minute. It is enough to make my heart skip a beat. “What is happening? ORDs?”
“Listen, Chris,” Deon grabs my hand and pulls me to stand up. “Everything’s fine. I promise. You’re safe. Don’t freak out, but I have to ask you a favor and I can’t explain why. Please, trust me on this and do exactly as I say. You will go to the second floor and stay there for a while. I need you to put on a coat as well… actually two coats… or three. No eavesdropping this time. No sneaking near the railings. Ok?”
I am too taken aback to question further and just start nodding energetically in agreement. There is nothing else for me to do, but to believe him. He is the only one who can help me against the mysterious menace and has not failed me so far. I will trust him, although this is all too odd.
The noises around me are getting weirder. The windows are rattling. The floor is shaking under my feet. Suddenly, the air becomes freezing cold. A strong blast of wind hits my face, as if all the doors and windows are open while a snow blizzard is raging outside. But it can’t be. It’s the end of August and still a blistering summer.
“Shhhh!” Deon hisses insistently.
I am even more puzzled because I am completely silent, not making a single sound. I probably look like someone who is about to start screaming. That must be the reason. He doesn’t have to worry about it, though. I am so petrified that I wouldn’t be able to do it, even if I wanted to. He leads me quickly up the stairs. I am squeezing his hand, trying to focus on the steps and avoid tripping. It’s hard because I am already shivering with cold. We reach the bathroom and Deon shoves me inside.
“Stay here. Don’t move,” he orders firmly. I don’t want to let go of his hand. It is the only thing that gives me some warmth. Clothes are not helping. The cold is seeping through them, sending chills all the way to my bones. Deon puts his palm on my cheek and insists, “You’re safe, Chris. I’ll be back in a second. It’s ok. Let go.”
“No,” I whisper. “Please, don’t leave me. I’m freezing. Please!”
“I’ll bring blankets,” he comforts me, raising his voice a little to make me come to my senses. “Your lips are turning blue. I must warm you up as soon as possible. Don’t be afraid. Stay calm. I will talk to you the entire time.”
“Were w-we not s-supposed to be q-quiet?” I stutter. My whole body is shaking. I’ve never been so cold in my life.
“No. You don’t need to whisper.” Deon manages to pull his hand out of my grip. I hear him turning the shower on. Hot steam fills the room. My tight muscles relax a bit. His receding steps indicate he is in the bedroom. The wardrobe doors are creaking. True to his promise he keeps talking, “I’m going to put blankets in the bathtub. You’ll lay inside and I’ll cover you with some more. That will keep you warm until I… um… resolve the problem.”
A horrible high-pitched whistle comes from the first floor. The blood freezes in my veins. I drop on my knees and cover my ears, unable to stand the piercing sound. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The realization almost knocks me unconscious. How can Deon be so composed? We’ll die. There’s no way we can survive this. He yells something like ‘swift’, ‘lift’ or ‘whift’. I can’t distinguish the word and I don’t see how it would save us. Seven encounters. No survivors. All victims found in the form of icicles. One lived only long enough to describe the creature.
The terrifying screech stops as abruptly as it started. Relief washes over me when Deon comes back and scoops me in his arms. I am not able to utter a word, but he doesn’t seem frightened at all. I obediently wait till he settles me in the tub, wrapped in blankets and old coats.
“I have to go,” he finally says, gently brushing his fingers through my hair. “Don’t move from here. Wait for me to return. I won’t be long, no more than an hour. How do you feel?”
“It’s a SUP.” I grab him by the sleeve, ignoring his question. “An ice bird. We’re dead. It’s in the house, isn’t it? Deon, don’t go. You’ll freeze to death. We can take suppressants and lock the door. It may not find us at all. Why would it enter a room full of hot steam. It surely doesn’t like the heat.”
“Chris,” he shakes me by the shoulders to stop me. “I can handle this. I swear we’re safe. Calm down. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Wait!” I shout after him, but he’s already gone.
I curl under the blankets and try to ease my breading. He didn’t deny it, so I was right. There is an ice bird in the house. Why didn’t the military warn him? Is that what the security alarm I heard was for? But it went off too late. It didn’t give us any time to prepare for the encounter. And why didn’t Deon show any signs of fear? He sounded more annoyed than startled, as if it was expected, but he was irritated that the monster didn’t choose more suitable time to pay him a visit. The cold didn’t bother him at all either. He seemed more concerned about saving me from freezing than with the fact that we both might die. What did he shout to stop the beast’s dreadful screech? I’m sure the word he shouted stopped it, but what was it? My head will explode with all the questions, seeming to have no answers.
This man is an enigma. I am not ready to part ways with him yet. I need time to solve the mind-boggling riddle. Who is he?
Please, Deon. Don’t die. Come back to me. I need you. Not because I am blind. Not because I am panic-stricken. I just can’t imagine my life without hearing your voice, feeling your touch and marveling at your laughter anymore.
Image by Vlad Min from Pixabay
Photo 992838476 by solarseven | istockphoto.com
Photo 121372816 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 8!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
It seems being in the house with Deon is no less dangerous for Chris than wondering alone across the wasteland.
What do you think is happening?
Is Deon risking his life in an attempt to chase away a SUP?
What do you think he shouted to stop the terrible screech?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
9. Light in Darkness (Chris)
Time passes excruciatingly slowly. I am worried sick. I have no idea how long I’ve been lying buried under the blankets in the tub. Not only am I not cold anymore, but I am sweating profusely. It is completely quiet. All I can hear is the splashing of hot water from the nearby shower. The monster must be gone. The cold would not go away if an ice bird were still around. I strain my ears for any sign of Deon, but there is nothing. The thought that he might be injured or frozen to death somewhere on the first floor makes my heart sink. My resolution grows stronger by the minute. I am not a coward. He might need help while I am hiding here. I can’t allow this. It is time to do something.
I throw off the blankets and get out of the tub, putting on one of the coats, just in case. The floor is slippery and it is hard for me to keep my balance, but somehow I manage to reach the door without falling. I hesitate a little with my hand on the handle. Deon clearly asked me to do exactly what he said and was quite specific about it. I was supposed to wait for him where he left me. He was not concerned about his safety at all and sounded confident that we were in no danger. The bird seemed to obey him when he shouted at it to stop its screeching. Am I making a mistake by not following his instructions? I certainly do not want to cause him any more trouble. On the other hand, we are talking about a SUP, one of the deadliest creatures on Earth. Those beasts do not even have to attack. Only their presence in close proximity is enough to kill a human. What if he overestimated his abilities and things did not turn out as he expected? How can I leave Deon deal with this on his own? It would be so ungrateful and pathetic. This thought wipes away the last traces of my indecisiveness.
I push the door slightly to assess the situation. The front door is flung open and someone storms into the house, just as I stick my head out through the crack. Heavy footsteps across the living room indicate that the person is quite irritated.
“You better go now,” Dion barks in a commanding voice. “And be more careful next time. Do not alert me when you are already on the porch. Give me at least an hour to prepare.”
Oh, my God! I am so relieved that my legs buckle. I have to lean against the wall so I do not slide down to the floor. He is alive and obviously well enough to scold someone. His companion must be a soldier. The military came to help him after all. He is more than right to complain. The security alarm was useless. They should have warned him much earlier. Fortunately, they still managed to appear on time.
I prepare to head to the stairs when the other person’s response gives me such a shock that I freeze in place, unable to comprehend the meaning of it all.
“This has gone too far, Tenebris*, and is getting too dangerous.” The man’s voice is harsh and full of determination. “We must leave. It’s pointless to delay any further. I am ready. We all are. The subatomic reactor is back to operational mode. Your Lux in Tenebris** is not here. I’m sorry, but you have to accept he facts for the sake of us all. Twenty years are too much. This is turning into obsession.”
(Latin: *Tenebris – Darkness; ** Lux in Tnebris - Light in Darkness)
“Deon,” my savior hisses. “You’ll call me Deon. That’s my name now. No more talking about this. I forbid you to mention it again. Am I clear? I am not asking you to like my orders. You only have to obey them. That’s what you’re here for.”
“I may be your Secundus* and Omnia Paratus**,” the other man grumbles, unfazed by Deon’s reproachful tone. “But I am also your friend. I do not question your orders. However, you must agree that you are acting out of guilt. None of us is to blame. These aggressive apes did this to themselves. They were on the path of self-destruction long before we stumbled upon this wretched place. They never listen and always act out of fear and greed. The other end of the string cannot lead here. We were wrong. Mistakes happen. The oracle will do another calculation. Let’s go home and search somewhere else, in a more civilized world. This one could not have created the Lux. You must see the absurdity of such an assumption.”
(Latin: *Secundus – The Second; ** Omnia Paratus - Prepared in All Things)
“I saw him. In another time, before and after the present, in my childhood, which has not yet happened. I am sure it was him, but he was too scared to grab the loose end and I lost that reality. It was my fault. He wasn’t ready and I frightened him. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.*” Deon sighs deeply. “Rex Siderum** will understand. You are too harsh on humans. Don’t forget where you come from. You’ll have to start loving them if we find the Lux among their kind.”
(Latin: * Astra inclinant, sed non obligant - The stars incline us, they do not bind us; **Rex Siderum – The Star King)
“You father is furious,” the man who’s name seems to be Secundus growls in annoyance. “I can tell you that for sure. He would have cut this channel long ago, if you weren’t so adamant about staying here. He may understand you, but does not like this and you know it.”
“Lower your voice,” Deon insists. “Enough! We’ll stay as long as it takes. I must be convinced without question he is not here before I give up. Tell Tertius* I will see him in two weeks. Go now. Salve! Semper Fidelis!**”
(Latin: *Tertius – **The Third; **Salve! Semper Fidelis! - Goodbye! Always faithful!)
“Your wellbeing is all we care about. I am sad because I feel your suffering. Looking for something that might not be here will only make you more unhappy. We live to serve you. Semper Fidelis, my prince,” Secundus says softly and another creaking of the front door announces his departure.
I slowly and carefully close the bathroom door and settle back in the tub. My mind is like a blank sheet. Deon said ‘no eavesdropping’ and I proved to be one of the stupid apes who never listen. I wish I had not heard this conversation for the sake of my sanity. I did not understand it. I do not want to understand it. It is so odd and unbelievable that my brain refuses to comprehend. I choose to forget it, but I know I never will. It is going to torture my mind until I dig to the bottom and find out everything.
I do not know the meaning of the foreign words they used, but I recognized the language. It was Latin. Mom loved Latin phrases. She repeated the most popular so often that I memorized quite a few of them. The presence of something familiar in this whole conundrum gives me some reassurance and a plan is quickly formed in my head. My first goal is to find out exactly what they mean. Mom had a dictionary in her room. I hope it is still there. Once I regain my sight, I will go look for it. I am determined to pretend I did not hear anything for two main reasons. First one is that I am ashamed of listening to someone else’s conversation again, even though I was specifically asked not to. The second one is the realization that I am not ready for the truth yet.
I will wait patiently. I will unravel the mystery, slowly and systematically and pray that Deon’s friends do not persuade him to leave for the place they call home before I succeed. I suspect that no man has ever set foot there and I will hardly be the first.
Photo 36096328 / Snow © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com
Photo 36178678 © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 9!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Is the mystery getting deeper or you have already figured out what is happening?
I am so excited to see some of your theories.
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
10. Unforgettable (Chris)
“Hey, you alright?” Deon turns off the running water and crouches by the tub, cupping my face in his palms. His hands are ice-cold. I shiver at the contrast to the hot air in the bathroom. He rubs his thumb soothingly on my chin. “You’re so pale. I’m sorry I scared you. It’s ok now. The bird is gone. He wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose. It’s just that the cold his body emits is too dangerous.”
I don’t even dare muse on the pronounce he just used for what we know to be an animal, and the way he talks about it, as if it’s an old friend. I reach out instinctively and run my fingers over his cheeks. They are even colder than his palms. There is frost stuck to his beard and all over his hair. It is such a relief to be able to touch him again. The thought that I could lose him a day after meeting him was so unbearable that it caused me physical pain. The urge to warm him and make him feel better is overwhelming. The other guy mentioned Deon was unhappy because he could not find a certain person. It is strange, but for a split second, I wished it was me, despite the dreadful suspicion which was trying to settle in my mind. ‘Out of guilt,’ Secundus said. Why does Deon feel guilty? What did they do? I chase the disturbing notion away. I am not going to jump to conclusions before learning all the facts. He is such a gentle, kind man. This cannot be denied, although he is surrounded by mystery and I am beginning to doubt whether he is actually human. Tenebris. Sounds so beautiful. I can’t wait to find out what the word means. Is it his actual name? Could be his rank as well. Is he a royalty? Where is his home?
I take a labored breath to calm myself. My arms move on their own and snake around his neck. I pull him towards me, burying my nose in the soft fabric of his sweater. It is wet from the melting ice crystals. I do not mind. It is so good to be in his embrace. I want more, so I move even closer, leaning on his chest. I can’t recognize myself, but it won’t stop me.
“You did not frighten me,” I manage to utter. “The bird did, but I am fine. You saved me… again.”
“You should never be afraid when you are with me,” he says hoarsely, stroking my hair. “Or, perhaps you should. I… I never want it… but it still happens… People get hurt around me.”
“I’ll be safe,” I am quick to interrupt him. He sounds sad and it breaks my heart. I barely know him, but still care about him more than I am concerned about my own life. Deep inside I know he deserves it. His stubble brushes my forehead and I say something that I have never expected to hear come out of my mouth. “Can I kiss you?”
I am utterly shocked. What is wrong with me? It must be the adrenalin and the euphoric feeling that always comes after escaping almost certain death. A heavy blush heats my cheeks. Deon is silent. My embarrassment grows stronger by the minute. My heart is racing. I try to ease the tension, but only make it worse by blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve never… uhg… This will be my first kiss.”
“Oh, my God!” he groans, pulling away from me. “Chris… This is not a good idea… I shouldn’t…”
I am mortified. How did it even occur to me that he would want to kiss me? I must be crazy. Why would he do that? What if he really is a prince? This is not a fairy tale. We are not the prince and the pauper*. Even Mark Twain would laugh at that. Fuck! This is why I am better off alone. This is why I keep away from the shelters. Feelings suck. They hurt. I don’t like them.
*The Prince and the Pauper - a novel by Mark Twain, telling about Edward Tudor, the heir to the throne of England who meets a poor boy, same age as him and with similar appearance. They decide to switch places as the prince is tired of the strict court rules.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I have no idea what got me…”
I do not get to finish my clumsy apology as I am grabbed by the front of the shirt and dragged out of the tub in one swift motion. The next moment his mouth is on mine. The sensation is so amazing that I am suddenly week at the knees. He is tender, only pressing his lips to mine, but it feels like fire. They start to move slowly. It is more than I can take. My body is melting. I am shaking like a leaf. My hands seek for support, taking a firm hold of his shoulders, but it is pointless. My emotions are all over the place. Deon bites my bottom lip and a long, throaty moan escapes me. I grasp the mask covering my eyes and yank it fiercely. The need to see him is stronger than ever. I am hot and bothered, flustered, happy, afraid and stunned. All at the same time.
“Chris! Don’t hurt yourself, silly boy.” Deon forces me to put my hands on his chest and leave the mask alone. “Don’t remove it. You won’t be able to see without it. You’ll only damage your eyes more.”
“What are you doing?” I choke out, still unable to take a breath. He pushes the coat down my arms, letting it fall on the floor. His hands grip firmly the back of my thighs, lifting me up to straddle his waist. I protest faintly. “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
“I know,” Deon chuckles and heads to the bedroom. “But sometimes, I do what I want, just because I like it.”
I cling to him and forbid myself to analyze the situation. I can afford to be a little reckless. I have the right to enjoy the pleasure of being hugged after so many years of solitude. His muscles are straining under my fingers and it is the best feeling ever. I am loosing myself in the delicate scent of his perfume and nothing else remains in my mind but the taste of his lips. He kissed me. He wanted it. I acted like a mad man, but who wouldn’t. Those enticing lips can wreck havoc in anyone’s soul. I am only sorry that my frenzied reaction ended it too soon.
He sits on the bed with me still on top of him. I dare not say a word. His palm rests on the small of my back. The other one wraps around my nape, keeping me in place. We are so close that I feel his warm, coffee scented breath on my face.
“Calm down,” he mumbles. “Don’t move. Don’t freak out. Your first kiss should be unforgettable, not rushed and messy.”
A hot shiver runs through my whole body, making me squirm in his arms. It seems I haven’t completely ruined the moment. He has not given up on me. The way Deon is holding me on his lap, as if I am the most precious thing in the world, makes me dizzy and weak. I can only feel, but not see him. This creates an even deeper intimacy between us, like lovers seeking each other’s touch in the darkness. His powerful thighs rise up, causing me to slide against his firm chest as our bodies press against one another. His heart is beating fast. I can sense his arousal.
“Stay still,” Deon whispers huskily in my ear. I whine at the hot stream of air making my skin prickle. He laughs softly, “Shhh! Easy, sweetness. Relax.”
His lips glue to the corner of my mouth and stay there until I give in. The tension finally fades away. I relax in his embrace, counting only on his arms to keep me steady. He has all the control. I like it. It’s nice not to be on alert and let someone else be in charge.
“Good boy. That’s it,” Deon smiles. His mouth moves slowly. He is rubbing his lips over mine, following their shape. His fingers bury in my hair and grasp a handful. He licks my bottom lip and rasps, “Open up.”
I obey. Nothing can stop me from doing exactly what he commands. I am like a dough in his hands. My lips part and he immediately sucks the upper one, just for a brief moment, but it is enough to make me whimper. Deon growls in approval. His palm slides under my shirt and starts drawing slow circles on the bare skin of my waist. Sweltering heat engulfs my body. Every touch is like a lightning, burning everything on its way. A thought crosses my mind that this must be the most astounding sensation I have ever experienced in my life when Deon proves me wrong by sliding his tongue in my mouth, luring mine in a sultry dance. This time I moan so loud that it almost sounds like a cry. He is kissing me so deeply and passionately that my body arches back, unable to take all the overwhelming pleasure. I whine like a puppy, clutching the hem of his collar in my fists. My legs are trembling. I am hard, panting, grinding on him and craving for more. I wouldn’t have the strength to say no, if he wanted to take me right now, although I have no idea if I am ready.
Deon carefully pulls back, but keeps his mouth on mine, as if knowing I would miss it too much if he breaks the kiss abruptly.
“That’s so much better, isn’t it?” he breathes. “You are so sweet, Chris. So handsome. I don’t know how I even stopped before… God!… Let’s take your clothes off now.”
“What? Wait!” I pant out. “I… I am not sure if I am ready to go further… I want to, but… I am just not…”
“No!” he laughs out. “I didn’t mean that. Sorry! I am a little shaken too. Didn’t want to mislead you. We need to fix your bandages and cleanse your eyes again… Cute! Did you think that I was going to…”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Of course not.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. His voice is a little unsteady. “Of course not.”
Photo 35098354 / Snow © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com
Photo 239056955 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 10!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Do you think Chris got the perfect first kiss?
Why was Deon hesitant at first?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
11. Like the Sea Breeze (Deon)
I carefully remove the gauze. My nose wrinkles at the sight of the swelling, red area on the boy’s upper back, covered in big, broken blisters. It must have hurt like hell before I gave him the strong pain killers. I am starting to wonder whether the dose is enough. Would Chris actually tell me, if he was in pain? He never complains, only keeps thanking me and apologizing, as if this isn’t his house and he didn’t experience something horrific just a few hours ago. My heart sinks at the thought of what could have happened, if he hadn’t crawled out of his hiding place under the log. The sight of his wounds makes me mad at the military. The general promised they would guard the perimeter. How Chris managed to sneak past them is beyond me. His stealth seems to be remarkable. I am sure the soldiers did not neglect their duties, but he is like a lurking cat, quiet and undetectable.
I am most angry with myself, though, and perfectly aware of my responsibility. My place is not here. The Secundus is right. My stubbornness and unwillingness to leave could have cost a human life. I am looking at this amazing, brave, handsome man, in whose house I have been living for five years, and his suffering is killing me. He has lost everything, but still fought for twenty years to come back home. I had no right to kiss him. He wouldn’t have asked for it, if he knew who I was. And yet, I have never wanted anything else so badly in my entire life, probably also in all of the other lives I do not remember anymore. I craved his silky, pink lips from the first moment I saw him. He is skinny, pale and might look weak, but is carrying proudly the scars of his unsparing existence. He chose it himself and never regretted it, freedom instead of defeat. I would have chosen the same. We have a lot in common, even if it doesn’t show at first sight.
If only I knew exactly where I met the Lux. If I could remember his face, I would have found him by now and gone home with him. Chris would have reached his parents’ farm unharmed instead of being burned by a damn dragon. But time is like a giant spider web. When a reality is lost or changed, it leaves very little behind, just a faint sense of vague memories. The string winds back and forth, entwining the past and the present. As long as one end is loose, I have no control over its course. Only my father can guide it, but my destiny is untouchable, even to him, for darkness is endless and chaos cannot be tamed.
“Dee*? What’s up?” Chris waves his hand to capture my attention. “Is it really bad? Why did you stop and became so silent?”
(Dee - name of Welsh origin, meaning ‘Dark’)
“No! No, you’re fine.” I snap out of my contemplation. “The medicines are working. All seems good… Wait! How did you call me?”
“Sorry!” he mutters nervously. “I won’t use it again if you don’t like it. Deon sounds a bit intimidating. You’re sweet… we kissed… I thought I should use a nick name that suits you more…”
“I like it,” I answer too quickly for it to pass as a casual reply. The slightest hint of sadness or worry in his voice throws me off balance, especially if I am the reason. “I’ve never had a nick name before, not such a cute one at least. I am not even sure if I deserve it, but I’d love it if you call me Dee. It’s actually very suitable.”
“You don’t have to agree to everything I want,” Chris sighs. “Out of pity.”
“What?” I gaze at his nape. “You think I kissed you out of pity?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. I’m not fooling myself,” he shrugs. “I can hardly be called hot stuff right now.”
“You know what?” I grip his wrist. “You are sprawled face down on the bed and I am treating your burn injuries. Any decent person would feel sorry for you. Am not I right? Can you guess what I’m thinking instead?”
“Ugh… I…” I don’t wait for him to finish and put his palm on my crotch. It’s a stupid move. My erection is already painful without his hand on it. Now I’m literally on heat. He gasps, “Whoa! Dee, you’re… “
“Hard,” I hiss through gritted teeth, releasing his hand before this whole things goes way off the rails. “Does it feel like pity? Your jeans are too loose. I’ve been staring the entire time at that soft curve of your hips they fail to cover, and thinking how I want to kiss you right there like crazy.”
“Dee… Oh, my God!” he giggles. His laughter is like the cool sea breeze in hot summer. It brings nothing but bliss. Chris turns to the side and points a finger at me. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” I smile. His face is crimson and it only makes him cuter.
“Because now I want it too,” he whispers, but quickly adds. “I mean… not now… some day, if you still…”
“We have a deal,” I smirk. He nods in agreement and goes back to laying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. Our little pact seems to calm him. I run my fingers through his messy shoulder-length strands. “Would you like me to cut your hair? It’s beautiful, but half of it is singed. It will grow faster and stronger this way.”
“Yeah,” he beams. “It’s a good idea. Thank you! Do you know how?”
“Well, I am not a professional, but I cut my own. I do a decent job. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” I help him get up and put on a t-shirt, trying not to gaze too much at the smooth skin of his bare chest. “How is your stomach? Do you think you can eat something? You must be hungry.”
“Can I cook?” Chris asks enthusiastically. “You have eggs, right? I make great omelets. At least I could when I was ten. I remember how it’s done. Do you eat eggs?”
“Yeah, sure, quite a lot of them. Great idea,” I instantly agree. He looks happy and it makes my heart swell. When did that boy start to affect me so much? “Let’s go. We’ll cook first, eat and then I’ll take you to the back yard to show you my little zoo. I plan to demonstrate my skills as a stylist later this evening.”
“Admit it!” Chris laughs, taking my hand. “You’re in a hurry to cut my hair while I still can’t see, so that I don’t kick your ass when I look in the mirror.”
Our fingers naturally intertwine as we walk down the stairs. The living room is still a bit chilly, reminding of my chief adviser’s presence. It’s a nice relief from the summer heat.
“Absolutely,” I grin. “By the time you see the result, you will already like me too much to take revenge on me.”
Photo 119987270 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
Photo 125556068 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 11!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Chris and Deon are more and more comfortable together.
Is this a beginning of a love story?
Is it going to be a tragic or a happy one?
I am curious how many of you are convinced at this point that Deon is the dragon?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
12. The Old Days (Deon)
“Here,” I take Chris’s hand and place his index finger on the thin rim of the glass bowl. “Ok?”
“Yeah,” he nods energetically, grinning from ear to ear. “Step aside. Don’t worry. I have good orientation. I’ll score a direct hit.”
“Of course, you will,” I pat his shoulder. “I don’t doubt it.”
He swings the egg towards the target. The next moment it is splashed on the table in a mash of white, yolk and shell pieces. I snort. His expression is priceless, a mixture of surprise, disbelief and a little embarrassment. Cute.
“What?” he mutters. “Where’s the bowl? Did you move it?”
“Aww, are you really going to blame it on me, butterfingers?” I sneer. “Maybe, it grew legs and ran away on its own.”
“Very funny,” he pouts. “Give me another egg.”
“Sure.” I put it in his hand. He grips the bowl with the other and bites his lip in concentration. Hesitation is written all over his face, so I decide to encourage him. “You will succeed this time. I promise I won’t tease you again. Go ahead!”
“It’s not that,” he shakes his head. “We shouldn’t waist food. There isn’t much of it. An egg is not insignificant.”
“I know,” I lightly squeeze his forearm. My heart sinks. Not that I would ever forget it, but his words remind me in full force of the gravity of the situation. This planet is almost annihilated. Its remaining inhabitants live on the edge of survival. Fauna and Flora are mutating. They are all doomed, unless I find a way to stop the disaster and save what is left. I sigh, “It’s true. One egg is more precious than a diamond. I know it. Nothing will be waisted, I assure you. You can try one more time.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I am such a killjoy. An egg wouldn’t make any difference, would it? It’s just that… I think, I’ve been through more than I can handle. I’m tired, Dee. So fucking tired.”
“I found you right in time then. You are not alone anymore.” I wrap my arm around his waist and firmly grip his wrist. “Do you mind a little help?”
“No.” Chris finally relaxes, leaning his back against my chest. “It’s actually very welcome. I seem to be lost without you lately.”
With some guidance from me, he knocks the egg precisely on the edge and carefully slides the yolk and white into the bowl. I clean the shells from the other one and scoop it off the table with a spoon. Not an easy task, but I manage to add it to the mixture.
“All done. We have two eggs in the bowl. What else?” I glance at my sad, brave boy. He is so handsome when the subtle smile curves up the corners of his soft lips. Every time I look at him, I want to protect him, to make him like me as much as I admire him, to wipe the sadness away from his face and make him laugh.
“Only a pinch of salt and a good beat,” he answers, gripping eagerly the balloon whisk I put in his hand. “Oh, my God! This is great. Now, watch my flawless technique and take notes. It almost feels like the old days. The truth is, mom preferred to make breakfast on her own, because my wild enthusiasm always faded away just before we got around to cleaning the terrible mess I made in the kitchen. It didn’t stop her from encouraging me, though. She praised everything I cooked, even when I burned the toast or the milk boiled over, splattering the stove.”
“Must have been a lot of fun, and a pain to clean up,” I chuckle. He is skillful. It is a pleasure to watch his deft movements. “What did you put in the omelet in the old days?”
“Oh, whatever I found in the fridge,” he shrugs. “Sometimes bacon, other times cream and mushrooms, mixed vegetables, the leftover grilled chicken breast from dinner, but it is pretty good plain as well.”
“How about some brine cheese and cherry tomatoes,” I suggest, full of satisfaction at the sight of his stunned face. “Don’t be so surprised. I told you this was a fully functioning farm. I have a greenhouse, hens, also a small herd of cows and several sheep.”
“Like in the old days,” Chris repeats with nostalgia in his voice. “You must be very busy since early morning. Even more so now that you have to look after me as well. Dad’s jaw would drop if he could hear me, but I can’t wait to start helping you with the animals. He was constantly trying to involve me in the farm work. To put it mildly, I had no desire whatsoever to get my hands dirty. I came up with all sorts of excuses to avoid it - a school project due the next day; a headache; the football practice. I even faked a sprained ankle once. If I had known what was coming, I would have volunteered every time. We could’ve spent so much more time together… Why do we always realize our mistakes when it’s too damn late?”
I want to say something comforting. Nothing comes to mind. No words seem soothing enough or appropriate. It is disrespectful to lessen such a loss. What could possibly ease the grief of a man whose entire world is gone? A gentle kiss on his temple is all I can do for him now. My life so far has been devoted to a single purpose, to find The Lux. I was too rushed and impatient when it finally happened. I lost the most important person in the universe, altered an entire timeline with dire consequences, and threatened the existence of my own kind as well as many others. I hope he can somehow sense that I know how despair feels. Mine is mixed with a terrible guilt. He thinks I rescued him, but the opposite is also true. Chris is like a ray of sunshine in a cloudy day. He appeared just when I needed him most.
We stay quiet for a while, fighting our emotions. Each of us tries to be strong for the other and to hide deeper any weakness that might disturb our fragile moment of happiness, even though we both know the harsh truth. Chris leans closer and returns the kiss, barely brushing his lips over my chin.
“Umm,” his voice is unsteady, but he smiles. “Here’s my secret to fluffy texture. Poor some cold water in the well beaten eggs, no more than half a cup. Add a pinch of paprika and pepper, whisk some more, and you can pour it in the pan. I’ll start the second omelet. No spices for you, right? Give me the tomatoes and a knife. I’ll cut them.”
“Yeah, right. No seasoning for me,” I confirm. However, I am more than reluctant to let him cut anything. “There’s no way that I am giving you a knife, smarty, no matter how much I admire your cooking skills. You’ve got enough bandages already.”
“A blind man with a knife,” he smirks. “Scary, huh? It’s like a horror movie plot. A selfless farmer finds a blind guy in the woods and decides to save him. The man looks nice and helpless, until one day the good farmer lets him cook the lunch… What did you get yourself into, Dee? I could be really dangerous.”
“Oh, fine!” I roll my eyes. “Enough drama. You sure know how to make me do whatever you want.”
“I would never,” he protests, wiggling his eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent. I bring the knife and put a tomato in his hand. He squeaks happily and starts sniffing it and rubbing it on his lips. “Whoa! I thought they didn’t exist anymore. I love tomatoes. They smell so good. Dee, you’re a genius. How did you even manage to grow them?”
“Don’t ask,” I groan. “It was really hard. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked in the end, but I planted and dug so much that I could make a second Channel Tunnel to connect England and France.”
Chris starts to giggle. I pour the egg mixture in the pan and stand behind him. I told myself a thousand times that I should be careful and keep my distance. I repeated again and again that I had no right to kiss him. But no matter how I try, it seems impossible to stay away. He is sweet, courageous, lovely, tempting, simply irresistible, and has the most seductive lips I have ever tasted. Who would resist? I look forward to every opportunity to have him in my arms. He likes it.
“We’ll cut together,” I mumble, holding his hands to direct his movements. “Ready?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he says impatiently, pressing closer to me. “Totally ready.”
Photo 139632104 / Cooking © Tofumax | Dreamstime.com
Photo by Steve House from pexels.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 12!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Do you think Chris and Deon are a good match?
Are the feelings true, if you like someone without having ever seen him?
How many of you think that Chris is The Lux?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
13. Two Weeks (Deon)
“It is so cuuute. I can’t see it, but I just know that it’s damn cute,” Chris coos, running his fingers through the thick, soft plumage of a large, white hen, patiently snuggling on his lap. He is sitting cross-legged on a small patch of grass in front of the roost, looking like someone who has just won the lottery. “I adore chubby, fluffy chickens. No, I actually love all kinds of chicken. You are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Thank you for the eggs, darling… Ouch! Did you just peck my finger?”
He sucks on the reddish spot to ease the sting and starts cackling and stroking the sly bird’s head. His face lights up with delight, like a child who just got their first pet.
“Nooo,” I grin, unable to resist his heartwarming enthusiasm. “Charlotte never bites. She is always very well behaved. It was a kiss, I’m sure. I think this is love at first sight.”
“Yes, it is,” the boy keeps giggling and places an affectionate kiss between the hen’s wings. This liberty seems to cross poor Charlotte’s last boundary and her tolerance runs out. The annoyed bird instantly lets out a series of indignant clucks and awards the impudent admirer with a pretty strong kick. Chris only laughs harder. “Fine! I got the hint. The feelings are not exactly mutual. Off you go now. Your friends must be missing you. Baddie! Dee, how many chickens do you have? Did you name them all? Charlotte. No way! You should’ve called this one Medusa.”
“Twenty five hens and five roosters and this is the only one with a name. She is so fierce that I decided she deserved one. Alright, let’s get you out of here before any of the roosters finds out what a flirt you are.” I take his hand to help him stand up and show him the way out of the narrow enclosure where the chickens are kept.
“That was amazing,” Chris sighs. “Our farm revived. Like a dream come true. It won’t bring my parents back, but still means so much to me. Hope. Purpose. I can’t wait to get to work. We are going to be such a great team.”
“You don’t seem to mind the exquisite aroma here and it is more than obvious that you have a soft spot for birds. So, I am assigning the hen house to you. Congratulations! You will start in two weeks. The first feeding is at eight in the morning. You pour enough corn to last them during the day. I’ll show you the right quantity. When they line up around the feeders, you collect the eggs and clean. The second feeding is at six in the evening, so that they have enough time to get back into the shed before dusk. When all the birds are settled, you immediately bolt the door. Don’t forget to check carefully for uninvited visitors inside. You must do it every time, as well as watch out for cracks in the boards and newly dug holes under the walls. A cunning fox that lives nearby tries its luck every night, even though I regularly leave food on its path along the hedge. The rascal is certainly not hungry, but that won’t stop it from stealing a chicken.”
“You feed a fox?” Chris exclaims. “Dee, honestly, how are you such a nice guy? Isn’t it hilarious? No gratitude, huh? You take care of it every day and the little thief would still break into your hen house. Ha ha ha, I like it. Is it tame? Does it let you pet it?”
“Of course not,” I laugh out. “I am not that crazy. It would bite my hand off, if I try. Wild animals trust no one. Life is too tough.”
“Yeah, true,” he agrees. “I can actually start helping you right away. I can do many things without having to see.”
“Of course you can.” I nudge him slightly to the side to prevent him from crashing into a pile of branches I forgot to remove from the front porch lawn. “With some practice, you will learn everything. Your eyesight isn’t the problem, but the burns are still fresh. Animal husbandry and agriculture is not a clean job. We cannot risk any infections, especially in this hot weather. You’ll stay inside where it’s air-conditioned until I’m sure it’s safe for you to work.”
“Fine,” Chris sulks, though he knows I am right. “By the way, I wanted to ask you. How do you have unlimited hot water in the bathroom, a working stove and air conditioning? And how the hell do you charge your phone? Obviously, there is electricity in the house. But how is it possible?”
“A generator,” I answer. I see no point in hiding the truth. It would be much better to tell him everything I can, keeping my mouth shut only about what he won’t be able to understand anyway. It would be great if he stops asking questions, but it is not something I can count on. He has proven to be one of the most inquisitive people I’ve encountered.
“Oh,” Chris’s face is all curiosity now. I should have seen it coming. “What kind of generator? What energy source does it use - solar panels, wind turbine, or maybe diesel? Wow! You must be really important if the military gave you fuel to electrify your house. Electricity is a luxury even in the shelters. I remember that it was available for only four hours a day.”
“I use an… umm… unconventional power source,” I mumble. “It’s the other way around. I supply the military. I do not take anything from them. All the food the farm produces as well. Everything goes through them to the shelters. Diesel, Gas or any other type of fuel, as you know them, no longer exist. Whatever was left from before The Impact has been exhausted.”
“God help us!” Chris hides his face in his palms. “What exactly happened to this planet? They never told us. The Impact. What is it? You are a scientist, right? You know what it’s all about, don’t you? There is absolutely no way you wouldn’t know. It seems the world didn’t change so much, but it just stopped functioning normally, like a machine which fails to perform the task it was designed for. There is nothing wrong with it on the outside, but a tiny gear is stuck in its engine, in the very core. This small part won’t move and no one can reach deep enough to fix it anymore.”
“I am sorry!” I turn him abruptly towards me and squeeze him in my arms as hard as I can. “I am so sorry, Chris! I will tell you. I promise. I’ll tell you everything. But not now. Be patient. Please, give me some time. Two weeks. I ask for two weeks only, until you heal.”
“No! Dee, I am the one who should be sorry,” he mutters in the crook of my neck. “I don’t have the right to demand answers. It’s just that I haven’t met anyone to whom I can ask those questions before. You saved my life and I am grateful. You gave me hope. I didn’t mean to upset you. I will wait. Ok? Are you angry with me?”
“I can never be angry with you.” I kiss his forehead and stroke his hair until he calms down.
Chris leans his chin on my shoulder. His lips press to my ear as he whispers, “No more questions. Two weeks in paradise. We’ll be farmers. I will imagine that the world is like before and we are happy.”
Suddenly, I feel it. It’s barely perceptible, but can’t be mistaken. My heart skips a beat.
A tiny, wavering spark of light amid the impenetrable darkness that surrounds me.
Photo 30087075 © Andrey Kiselev | Dreamstime.com
Photo 127731616 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 13!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Why do you think Deon asked for two weeks before telling Chris everything about The Impact?
Do you already have any theories about what The Impact is?
Does Deon have any connection with it?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
14. In Style (Deon)
“Are you crazy? No! Absolutely not! I am indisputably not giving you permission to shave my head,” Chris yells, grabbing my hand, so that I cannot bring the trimmer any closer to his hair. “Just try it and I promise, I’ll return the favor while you sleep. You can count on me.”
“Ohhh, I’m shaking with fear,” I snort through laughter, flinging my arm over his shoulders to keep him seated on the chair as he constantly tries to jump up and run away. “You will do yourself no good with such revenge.”
“And why is that?” he asks defiantly, finally giving up the attempts.
“Because you will always be super cute, with or without hair, while I cannot claim the same.” I drop the trimmer on the table, letting it thump loud enough for him to hear, and take the scissors instead. “You’ll have to bear the consequences of living under the same roof with a ridiculously looking man.”
“And why should I care?” he snickers. “I can’t see you, so it’s perfectly fine by me.”
“Do you have a ready answer to everything?” I smile, circling around him to get a better idea of the damages, which turned out to be more than I expected. The more I look at him, the more he grows on me. Beautiful. Delicate facial features, high cheekbones, pouty lips, skin like velvet and genuine charm. I am too distracted by staring at him biting his lip, so I desperately huff, “I admit I overestimated my abilities. Your hair is singed to the roots on the right side. A small part is almost unaffected, but the rest is a mess. Each strand is of a different length. There is no way to style it evenly, unless you consent to a very short buzz cut.”
“I don’t like the idea of having no hair around my face,” Chris discontentedly wrinkles his nose. “Being able to tuck it behind the ears gives me a sense of security. I am not used to… Well, they shaved me once, at the shelter…”
He hesitates. I crouch in front of him and take his hand to encourage him, “Go on. Tell me about it. I want to know.”
Chris needs to talk and I need to hear what he has to say.
A shaky breath makes his lips tremble, but he continues, “It was about a year after The Impact. I was frightened, in shock, and convinced that, if I flee, I would find my parents still waiting for me at home. I couldn’t accept they were gone. I was already planning to make a break for it. There were mostly children in the shelter. Several women took care of us, each responsible for a group of thirty kids. We called them mentors. They were the only adults, if we don’t count the soldiers, guarding on the outside of the concrete wall. The building was their former barracks.”
We stay silent for a while. His face is emotionless, but I can feel the pain, radiating from every gesture and every word. He probably hasn’t told anyone about this. The memory was buried deep, but never forgotten.
“The sound of the siren warned of a third degree hazard that day,” he quietly speaks. I dare not breathe, wishing to give him all the peace of mind he needs. His voice is steady and his hand is warm in mine. I am happy to comfort him. “It was usually nothing. Even a strong gust of wind would be considered dangerous. I guess, the military did not know yet what they were dealing with, and what to expect. They were too cautious. The smallest change in the weather was treated as a major threat. I do not blame them. I would do the same if I had to keep a small army of kids safe. The assigned mentor warned our group to stay inside, but I was too curious. The air smelled strange, of melted sugar and cotton candy, mixed with the pungent scent of vinegar. I sneaked out and climbed on the roof to see what was happening. White dust was falling from the sky, like a snow flurry, but warm and stinky. The outraged woman pulled me back inside a second before I was ready to open my mouth and taste it. She saved my life. The weird snow turned out to be highly toxic. It was easy to remove it from the skin with some soap and water, but nothing could wash the clothes and my matted hair. That’s how I lost it. I stole a guard’s motorbike and escaped the very next day.”
“You were brave,” I mumble, “but also extremely stubborn and stupid.”
“I know,” he shrugs. “What do you expect from an eleven-year-old boy who was loaded onto a truck and then in a plane, without being told where he was going or why? Dad had a really hard time making me leave the house. He knew we would never see each other again, but I did not realize it until a few months later. I was damn angry with him, as mad as a wrongly shot hog. He did not have the right to take that decision for me. I would have stayed. Even today, knowing the consequences, if I had to choose again, I would stay.”
“Don’t say that, Chris,” I hurry to interrupt him. My heart just cannot take all his pain. It is already overflowing with my own grief. “He had every right to save you and did what every good father would have done. He gave you a chance to survive. You are strong now. Your parents would be so proud of you, if they could see the man you’ve become.”
“Yeah,” he sighs deeply. “I guess you’re right. I should never give up. Their sacrifice can not be in vain. Sorry! I didn’t want to spoil the light mood. Umm… Can I ask you a very personal question?”
The sudden change in subject and intonation takes me by surprise, but I quickly brace myself and respond as casually as I can, “Yes, sure.”
“You said you liked me… ugh… I mean, my body… You find it appealing…” He coughs nervously, trying to gain some more time and compose his question, which is obviously not an easy one to ask. “Are you attracted to men? You know… gay?”
“Not exactly,” I choke out. The boy can be quite straightforward. Not that this type of conversation bothers me in any way. I am actually relieved. This is a much better topic to discuss than the reason why his planet is on the verge of the apocalypse.
“What does this mean?” He leans towards me curiously, tilting his head, as if studying my face, although he can’t really see me. “You’re bi?”
“It’s not… I don’t…” I start scratching my nape, wondering how exactly to explain it, so that he would understand. “Physical attraction is not about gender for me… There are other things… that matter.”
“Aaaah,” he grins victoriously. “So, you’re pan.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s the closest one.” I decide to simply agree and confirm his conclusion, rather than reveal that human classifications have nothing to do with what I am and to be honest I don’t fully understand them. “You’re right. Spot on.”
“Why am I not convinced?” he smirks. “Dee, you’re such a mystery. I admit that it’s one of the things I like most about you. It also makes me a bit uneasy because I never know what to expect. But I’m pretty sure you like me, so I won’t dwell on it.”
“You have no reasons to worry.” I put my palm under his chin and ruffle his unruly hair. “And speaking of that, I think there’s enough material for a fancy punk mohawk.”
“Yeah?” He is more than enthusiastic. “That would be awesome. I’ve always wanted to have that rebellious look. Can you pull it off? I want to be cool, not a scarecrow.”
“You’ll be farming in style,” I chuckle, gripping a handful of unruly hair and snip the uneven strands off. “Gorgeous.”
“You’ve done nothing yet,” he laughs out. “I doubt there is any difference from before.”
“True,” I pinch his cheek. “But you’re gorgeous nonetheless.”
Photo 127731616 © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib | Dreamstime.com
Photo by ArtHouse Studio from pexels.com
A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 14!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Chris and Deon are getting closer and learn more about each other.
What question would you ask if you were Chris?
What would you ask if you were Deon?
What do you think are those things that attract Deon in a partner?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
15. Denying the Obvious (Deon)
It has been a week, the happiest one in all of my lives, but also the shortest. It passed in a flush. Good things always seem to make time fly faster.
I cannot imagine this place silent and empty anymore. Chris fits into my everyday existence as if he has been here the entire time. I am starting to wonder how I lived without him before.
I did my best to keep him inside the house for his own good, but to no avail. His desire to help out with every household chore cannot be tamed. The chicken coop became his territory and he would not let me near it, only two days after I first took him there. He looks after the birds, feeds the fox, cleans, cooks and even manages to sneak into the greenhouse and transplant or weed tomato plants, water the cabbage and do anything else he finds useful. I have very specific requirements for the food I eat, but Chris learned to prepare it exactly as I explained in no time, and never made a mistake. Any task can be entrusted to him. He will complete it without fail and will be precise to perfection.
The smile, quite hesitant in the beginning, does not leave his bright face now. I cannot stop staring at him, especially when the afternoon heat forces him to peel off his shirt and splash cold water over his tanned body. Chris was skinny when I found him, although, his muscles were strong and well defined. He has not gained much weight since, but still there is a visible difference. The boy was in physical and emotional shock, but quickly braced himself. He became stronger and healthier. His endless energy captivates me. I admire his ability to adapt and not to lose heart at the obstacles, no matter how big they are.
I can see he is attracted to me, even though he has not seen what I look like yet. The bad news is the same goes for me. It is getting harder to stay away. My wild nature urges me to act. The flames are burning again after all these years of solitude, and I have no idea how to put them out. Darkness is advancing. I am afraid I will not succeed in finding the light before it is too late. My father gave me a limited time and it is already running out. He and I both know that there is a line that must never be crossed, because then the king will not be able to stop me either.
I rarely help Chris with his healing baths anymore. His naked body is too much of a trigger. I let him put the antibiotic drops in his eyes himself. He does not really need the mask. I doubt his sight is fully regained, but I encourage him to wear it. I try to keep every possible barrier between us after our incredible kiss, but despite all the precautions, it is so difficult to sleep at night knowing he is just a few steps away. I fight these new feelings as it is unthinkable to give in to the urge. I cannot allow it. I am not worried about myself, but rather fear the boy will not be able to overcome the inevitable end. Chris may have toughened up in the wasteland, but he is a kind, sensitive, loving soul. I dread becoming the next person he will develop affection for, only to abandon him when the time comes. This amazing, brave man deserves better. As much as I want to stay, I have obligations and must leave as soon as I find The Lux. Too much is at stake, actually everything. All that I am belongs to my Lux.
“Hey, Dee! What are you doing?” Chris yells from across the lawn. “I called you twice and can hear your heavy breathing over there. Why aren’t you responding? Are you having a heat stroke or something?”
“Very funny,” I shout back. “Get inside or it might very well happen, because of you.”
“I didn’t ask you to come out with me,” he cheekily retorts, pouring another bucket of cold water over his chest. “Damn, it’s hot. Must be at least forty degrees centigrade. Sorry, old man! Didn’t want to put you at risk, but I needed those green beans for my casserole.”
“I’ll give you a casserole alright,” I grumble and close the small distribution box, mounted on one of the porch columns. Everything seems fine, so the blinking lights in the house are not a result of a malfunction in the circuits. Too bad. Many things can cause disturbances in magnetic fields and electricity, but my gut feeling tells me he is coming. It was inevitable. I sensed The Lux. He must have sensed it long before me. That is his job and he is damn serious about it. I shake my head in annoyance. Trouble is on its way. Shit! I see that Chris is making no fuss to do as I asked and is still standing shirtless on the first step to the porch, grinning at me. I scoop him up and throw him over my shoulder on my way in. “Didn’t I tell you to buzz off, kid?”
“Rude,” he laughs, trying to wiggle out of my grip. “Watch your language, Dee. What’s up? You seem a little worried. Why were you rummaging through the cables? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, all fine,” I answer and slap his butt, before putting him down near the kitchen island. I always tell him everything I can and hide information only if there is no way to avoid it. “The lights were blinking, so I decided to check, just in case. All looks good.”
“Why are they blinking then?” He doesn’t let it go as usual. “There must be an explanation.”
“I don’t know.” I am sincere. I only suspect that my Quintus* might be coming. I do not know it for sure. I hope I am wrong. The Quaesitor can be a real pain in the ass. It is not that I cannot handle him, but now is definitely not the right moment for him to make an appearance. I have time to prepare at least. He is high in the mountains. It will take him at least two days to get here. I will think of something until then. I need to give some relevant story to appease Chris, though. “Maybe, a mouse tried to bite into a cable. It’s gone, so chill.”
*Quintus
(Latin)
- The Fifth
*Quaesitor (Latin) - The Seeker
“Mm-hmm,” he huffs, full of doubt. “Maybe, you’re right… or maybeee… you’re not telling me everything. I promised not to question you for two weeks, so I’ll let you off the hook this time. Well, I’ll start the lunch then. Go take a shower.”
“Good,” I instantly agree before he decides to dig further into the topic. “I need only ten minutes and will be right back. Umm… call me if you think something is odd.”
“What kind of odd?” Chris asks casually, as if my request is the most normal thing and does not bother him at all, which is actually the clearest sign that he is very intrigued. “Like a snow-blizzard-in-August odd, or a fire-breathing-lizard odd?”
“A lizard?” I roll my eyes, failing to suppress a muffled snort of disapproval.
“Sooo, dragons are not lizards, huh?” Chris immediately takes advantage of my little slip out. “What are they then? An intelligent species of warm-blooded dinosaurs? Mammals?”
“A figment of someone’s wild imagination,” I groan, heading up the stairs to the second floor. “Be a good boy and don’t cut or burn yourself. You better put a shirt on as well. It’s cold in here and you’re soaking wet. And I meant a phone ringing kind of odd. I promised the general to call him today. He might get impatient and call first.”
“Fine,” Chris pouts. “Keep denying the obvious.”
I know I should not give in to the provocation, but he manages to get me into these little cat and mouse games without fail. I sigh deeply. “What is so obvious, Mr. Know-it-all?”
“That I am smoking hot and you’re at the end of your tether.” He sneers, running his fingers across his chest and down to his navel. “Why else would you care about me being shirtless and showing off those jaw dropping abs? And don’t take too long. You are an ass, but I start missing you too quickly.”
“I’ll be with you in few minutes.” His disarming frankness makes me smile. Only common sense stops me from telling him that he is absolutely right. I am pretty sure he already knows it. I am on the verge of doing something really stupid. A cold shower suddenly seems like a great idea.
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A/N
Hello at the end of chapter 15!
Thank you for reading and supporting! ❤❤❤
Another detail about Deon was revealed.
He is obviously not alone.
Do you think Chris might actually know more than he suspects about it?
Did you already guess who Deon’s companions might be?
Share your thoughts. I appreciate constructive criticism and will answer to all your questions.
And don’t forget to vote, if you enjoyed the chapter.
Love: Anny
