Instead I'm working on post apocalyptic erotica this time. Which makes sense actually, if you know me. I'm one of those crazy survivalists, except since I don't have the gay hate, anti-choice, and religious issues I'm kind of an oddball in the realm of gun toting, food and toilet paper hoarders.
Speaking of which, I need to get more TP.
Tentatively named "Dark Angel". Or my dark angel. Or a dark angel. Or yellow 0163. I just don't know right now.
Here's the first page or so. :)
My name is Nadine Hollis. I’m twenty-eight
years old, I think, though we haven’t tracked birthdays for a long time, not
since the Meltdown anyway. Carly did for the first few years, but when the dust
finally settled and reality took hold even she stopped caring. It’s hard to
look forward to being another year older when you just spent the last one
hiding out, hoping to make it through the day without being captured or raped
or killed. Or worse.
We did better than most, me and her, hiding
in abandoned buildings and only coming out after dark, but everything’s
eventual and our luck ran out between a ’67 Chevy and a burned out office
complex. They were scavengers of the worst sort, moving fast and light and on
top of us before we ever saw or heard them. They took Carly down fast, wrapping
her in a blanket like a spider webbing a fly. She was only twenty-two, delicate
and beautiful despite the grime and dirt, and they knew better than to damage
the prize. Next thing I knew they were carrying her off like a rolled Persian
rug and reeking, hairy arms were wrapping around me while someone else put a
pillowcase over my head.
Nearly a decade of surviving together in
the dark amid the ruins came to an end in half a minute.
They called themselves businessmen, which
is like calling a two-bit politician the President or a King. They were
slavers, scavengers preying on the unwary and unprotected, and any warm body would
do regardless of age or sex. Small children could be sold for menial laborers,
old women as cooks and house maids. Men could be sold to the corporations for
workers, or to pit bosses for the illegal but ever popular blood sports. And
girls? Use your imagination.
Looking back I wonder if things would have
been different if they’d known we were both virgins. Given our age they never
thought to check, but if they had they might have treated us better. Certainly
we would have been held back for a special auction and bid on by only the most
wealthy investors. Instead we were ear tagged and caged with the rest of the
women and girls, slated for sale at the auction in Canton.
Yeah I said ear tagged. We were cattle to
them, profitable cattle who cost nothing to acquire and next to nothing to
feed. You don’t name cattle. You give them numbers.
I was Yellow 0163.
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