Dead eyes.

The deadest eyes I’ve ever seen, Clarisse thought, staring into them.

Opaque.

Lifeless.

Dark brown eyes devoid of life. Flat and dead, dark and empty, staring into hers.

He was the leader, the Lieutenant, staring into her. Gold bars on his shoulders, not lined up quite even, his uniform a little nicer than the other two. More real Army. What used to be real Army, back when it was just Americans.

Staring with his dead, soulless eyes.

Appraising her.

The leader among them.

Three of them.

Standing in her small kitchen, their M-16’s hanging off of their shoulders. Pistols at their sides. Grenades on the flak jackets, their slightly ragtag mismatched khaki green uniforms filthy, encrusted with grime. Their helmets hanging on the backs of her beige kitchen chairs.

The smell of their body odor permeating the room, she was glad the kitchen window was open.

The smell of dirt. Smells of the earth, all through the small kitchen, coming from their filthy army uniforms. Ragtag army. Not perfect. Sorta-army uniforms. Like the surplus stuff she’d worn in college.

“Ma’am,” he said, “we’re sorry. We didn’t know anyone was in here. We saw the light…”

“It’s okay,” she said.

Knowing it was bullshit.

Knowing they were intrigued. Very cautious. Hopeful for food. Supplies.

Looking for a trap, too.

Kill her instantly if they thought she was one.

Or worse. Make her wish she was dead.

Hoping for lots of things, thinking lots of things, as they looked at her, she knew.

Not at all sorry.

She shifted a little on the barstool at her kitchen counter, shifting a little, feeling the handle of her biggest bread knife, the knife hidden underneath her, the handle pressing into her ass.

She’d had just enough time to sit on the big bread knife when they’d blown her bulletproof high security living room door off with some special tool. Popped it right down.

Blew a high security window out in the basement right afterward, an escape if the door got blocked.

She was shocked at how quickly they’d entered. Just bam, instant, right there. The three of them, in her house.

The handle of the knife pressing into her ass. She was glad she’d grabbed the thick pink robe, too, and threw it on, as the door blew in.

Not that it would mean much.

She knew how it could go here.

“What the fuck IS this!” Jensen said loudly, in disgust, shaking his head, looking at the other two. Looking at her.

”What’s all this polite nicey-nice BULLshit!”

She studied the skinny scrawny one called Jensen, the one looking at her with open cynicism and hostility.

His dark blonde hair, long, hanging down all oily and scraggly. Bony face. Pale blue eyes.

Pockmarks from old acne. Muscles moving on his skinny neck when he talked.

“Lieutenant this is BULLshit!” he said louder.

“Easy, Corporal,” the Lieutenant replied softly, his head turning slightly toward him, but his eyes never leaving Clarisse’s eyes. Staring at her.

Assessing.

She thought of the transponder, hidden where they’d never find it.

“Easy.”

Jensen pursed his lips in disgust, shifted his M-16 higher on his shoulder.

His eyes bored into her.

Clearly the one who would give her trouble, she knew.

The young black man-Smith- took something out of his pocket. Turned it on. Some small electronic device.

“Anything?” the Lieutenant asked Smith.

“Gimme a sec,” he said, looking at some little thing that could have been a calculator. Punching buttons on it.

A biker, Clarisse thought, looking at Jensen. Meeting his hostile suspicious gaze.

Him glaring at the pretty lady of the house, coolly entertaining three stinking heavily armed brutes who’d just smashed her door in.

A pretty lady sitting in her suburban kitchen. In the middle of a war zone.

Damn.

So while they stared, she studied them, too. Fought the butterflies in her stomach. The adrenaline rush that says ‘run like hell.’

A biker, yes.

She always did this with new people. Pretended she was typecasting a movie, looking at Jensen.

Like: what part would I give you if I was making a movie?

A biker, that’s what she would make Jensen. The one who would give her trouble.

Thin and wiry. Nervous, squirrelly.

Yes, a biker, Clarisse thought.

“Anything?” the Lieutenant asked Smith again. The black young man, yes his name was Smith.

“Nope,” he said, looking into the small electronic device.

“Wait a sec,” he said again, punching buttons.

Yes, Jensen would be the skinny scrawny one in some rat hole biker bar movie scene, she thought.

Thin pale arms with ropy muscles. The skin on them burns in the summer, doesn’t tan.

Wearing a faded denim vest with the club colors on the back.

Pool cue in one hand, cigarette hanging down.

A big brown bottle of cheap beer, his adams apple bobbing up and down the skinny chicken neck as he took long drinks from it, tipping his head all the way back to quaff it.

Wiry. Stronger than he looked. Nervous, fast, short fuse.

Prone to anger, quick to violence. Impulsive. Whiny. Always speaking up, always in your face. Always trouble.

Liked it.

Liked being trouble.

“Nope. No GPS. No wireless. Nothin’, Lieutenant,” Smith said, shaking his head.

“Got a laptop?” the Lieutenant asked her.

“No.”

This is fucking BULLshit Lieutenant!” Jensen said louder, disgusted.

“I said EASY,” the Lieutenant said, louder too, looking at Jensen in exasperation.

I’d make him Army, Clarisse thought, typecasting the Lieutenant.

Square-jawed and handsome in the classic way. The kind of guy you’d just talk to. In an elevator, the airport. Let him talk to you in a bar.

Clean cut and open. Nice face. The parents of his girlfriends would like him instantly. A keeper, they’d tell their daughter.

You’d buy stuff from him, trust him.

Light sandy brown hair still short from his buzz cut, but longer than that, sticking up a little. Wiry brown hair.

A cop. A fireman. A sales executive, a corporate guy, the Lieutenant.

She smiled, dwelling on this. Dwelling on him.

She was grateful Smith hadn’t found her transponder with his device.

Knew he wouldn’t, but still, relieved.

She pulled her thick pink robe tighter around herself, especially with Jensen—hell, Smith too—staring so intently at her.

But Jensen was the creepy one.

Like she’d dropped from a spaceship, them staring.

Almost as shocking really, for them, as if she had, to find her here like this.

Pretty lady hanging at home in the middle of a war zone. Gotta be a trap, Jensen would think.

But a good story to tell too, back on base. Big mystery.

She’d thrown the thick pink robe on just as they’d entered. Put her long jet-black hair up with a pin.

Trying to look plain.

Hide her voluptuous, gorgeous, beautiful body under the thick pink robe.

Her silky blouse that actually showed off her ample perfect breasts if she wanted it to, no bra. Nipples visible. Tight jeans. Sandals on pedicured feet.

Knew it wouldn’t mean a damn thing, hiding it under a robe.

Wouldn’t matter. They knew what was under that robe, she didn’t need to tease guys like this to fire them up.

But it made her feel better, as she tightened it around herself.

“Okay. Uh, ma’am, Clarisse, right?” said the Lieutenant.

She nodded.

“We’ve been in front line combat for eight months, Clarisse,” he said to her, voice shaky but polite.

Hiding his pain, she knew.

Waiting. Staring through her with his dead, weary eyes.

“Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze. Ignoring the other two.

Jensen all fidgety, looking at the cabinets.

“Ma’am,” the Lieutenant said softly...

“Help yourself,” she said.

Like they wouldn’t anyway, but she liked that he pretended to need to ask first.

They tore into her kitchen cabinets. Took down the three cans of condensed soup. Two large cans of fried Chinese noodles. The large box of rice. Two cans of condensed milk.

All white, no labels, just white labels and white boxes, so from the Ration Station.

“That’s it?” Jensen said, very annoyed. Angry.

“Yes,” she said.

“Living HERE? Lookin’ like YOU? That’s IT??”

“ENOUGH, Jensen!” the Lieutenant said, very loud, taking the stuff and spreading it on her kitchen table.

“Yes,” she said again.

She knew they would expect her to lie.

“BULLshit!” Jensen cried, popping the plain unlabeled can of soup, sucking it down, using his fingers to get at the meat. Staring at her the whole time. Hateful, suspicious.

“Go ahead,” the Lieutenant said to Smith.

Smith grabbed the other can like a starving man, also sucked it down.

The Lieutenant popped a hole in a can of condensed milk with his bayonet—she noted the dried blood on part of the blade, shuddered at the sight of it--and he drank it down in one gulp.

Took his own can of soup. All of it gone in seconds.

They were passing the noodle can around now, taking big handfuls, chomping them down.

“Water in the fridge,” she said.

Jensen grabbed it. They all passed it around. No one offered her anything.

Smith took her bag of rice too, stashed it in his pack.

“Ma’am, we need to know some things,” the Lieutenant said through a mouthful of food. Some milk on his lips.

Like a little boy, she thought, milk on his face.

“Yeah no shit,” Jensen chimed in through a mouthful of crunching noodles. Taking the other water jug out.

Smith just watched. Ate.

“Sorry the water got warm,” she offered.

They didn’t say anything.

The fridge had been working when she got home, but a few minutes after she turned on the two lights in the kitchen and a small lamp in the dining room, a little red light had appeared on the fridge and it had stopped working.

She’d exceeded her electricity ration, she knew.

Turned the lights on too soon. It was still dusk then, not quite dark.

It would come back on tomorrow. Only one jug of water in it now. The rest of it only empty, anyway.

A young college boy, Clarisse thought, that’s what I’d make Smith in my movie, she thought, watching them eat the last of it.

So young.

Looking a little too small for his big M-16. The uniform a little baggy, colors off a little.

He’d have been the idealistic one, she thought.

When he joined up. All eager, figuring it would be done quickly.

Probably beamed with pride when some farmer general on a farm they now called a base handed him his guns. Gear. Makeshift old army surplus. Gun club stuff. Shooting range stuff.

He probably had a copy of the Constitution all folded up in his pocket, she thought. The Declaration of Independence.

Probably even had a paperback or two in his pack.

The writings of Thomas Paine. Jefferson. Lincoln. Patrick Henry for sure, she thought, watching them all.

Yes, definitely Patrick Henry. Maybe even Rousseau.

He was the studious one here.

And too young for her to be sure of, to trust, she knew. Could go either way.

So young.

“Lady you got a stashbox. Aint no way you don’t,” Jensen said.

They looked at her.

She had lied. If she did again, it would waste time. They’d tear the place apart.

They would expect a lie once. Not twice. Not if she were one of the good guys.

“Okay. Yes. The tool chest, the big one, in the garage is a fake. Behind. Just a padlock.”

“Go,” the Lieutenant said quickly.

They both bolted for the garage.

He stared at her while they heard the others smash the stashbox open.

“Have you seen the Jetsons?” he asked her.

How dead his eyes are, she thought again briefly.

“Just one early this morning,” she lied.

He just nodded.

She had actually seen it just before they got here, a few minutes after she got home.

A light-blue hovercraft.

She’d never seen the old cartoon where the nickname came from, but she’d seen the real thing.

Today. Just an hour ago, if that.

A helicopter, but with little airplane wings. Agile and stable too.

It hovered right over her after she’d turned the lights on, she knew she was turning them on too early, but just wanted to.

Flew over fast. Checking it out.

She’d seen the United Nations logo on the nose.

Big Chinese characters on one side, with a picture of the Chinese flag.

The American and European Union flags on the other side, with the words “International Protection Force” stenciled in big bold letters across the side. The letters “IPF” in bold capitals on the tail.

“JACKpot!” Smith yelled as they brought the box in. Bright eyed, smiling, like they’d found what they came for. Their gifts.

Dumped out the tuna and chicken meat cans. Three boxes of crackers, the kind that used to come in cheerful yellow boxes, back when there were supermarkets.

Just plain white boxes now, she thought, same crackers.

Peanut butter. More soup. Milk.

“Can opener CAN opener!” Jensen said to her harshly. Annoyed she wasn’t getting up to get it.

She nodded toward her silverware drawer.

He pulled it out too hard, all the stuff smashed on to the floor. Her silverware all over the floor.

“Yo!” Jensen yelled, all happy and excited, tossing the opener to Smith.

They tore into it all, the Lieutenant picking up a spoon off the floor.

He wiped it on his filthy pants.

She was amused at this, the old habits, like that would make it cleaner.

The others just scooped out the meat with their fingers and they all ate ravenously.

He ate his with the spoon.

She also noted that the Lieutenant didn’t eat quite as much as his men. Almost, but not quite. They got a little more.

“Ma’am?” he said, offering her a tuna can.

“No thanks, I’ve eaten,” she said.

Jensen looked knowingly at her when she said that.

They gorged most of it, stashed a little in the packs. The Lieutenant too.

Now, she knew, it would go weird.

She knew.

With their bellies full and time to kill, now is when it could go.

“Can we shower?” Smith asked.

“No,” she said. “The meter turned. The Ration Squad would be here in minutes.”

“Fuck,” Jensen said.

They all looked disappointed.

“Maybe we’ll take that Squad out on our way outa town,” Jensen offered, and they all laughed softly.

All fat now. Bellies full.

Here we go, she thought.

“You eat in a bunker earlier today, Cluhhhh-reeese?” Jensen said, sarcastic. Open about it now.

Here we go, she thought.

“No. I wasn’t in…”

“Come on lady,” Smith offered up, “I mean…”

“LOOK at her Lieutenant!” Jensen said loudly. Sharp toned, shrill almost. Angry.

Here we go, she thought again.

Her hand, behind her, got closer to the bread knife.

“She looks like she just stepped out of a goddamned BUBBLE bath for Chrissake! Makeup…jewelry…all squeaky-clean, Jesus Christ Lieutenant…”

“Smells nice too,” Smith added.

She noted the Lieutenant just observed.

Let his men rip into her while he observed.

“FUCK man, who ARE you?” Jensen demanded.

“Clarisse, why are you here?” the Lieutenant asked.

“I’m waiting for my husband,” she said softly.

Serene.

In their anger, she knew to stay serene, not get all defensive, the lady of the house, staring them down.

“Say WHAT?” Smith said.

“He comin’ in a Jetson, Cluh-reeese?” Jensen said harshly. “Coming up out of the bunker?”

“No,” she said quickly, “he’s not…”

“FUCK he ain’t! LOOK at her, Lieutenant!”

“I got eyes, Jensen.”

“She’s fucking IPF all goddam day long man!” he yelled.

“Weeeeee……waited too long,” she offered meekly.

Looking at them, as if to say, ‘just hear me out.’

“Tried to stay neutral…now we’re leaving. As soon as he gets here.”

“Bullshit,”Jensen said flatly.

“We are.”

“Where are you going?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Canada first, then Australia, maybe New Zealand…”

“Oh come the fuck ON!” Jensen said, incredulous, laughing, shaking his head.

“Come on man,”Smith said at the same time. Shaking his head too. Looking at the Lieutenant. “What’s better there?”

“He comin’ in a Jetson?” Jensen asked.

“No!”

“How?”

“He’s driving…”

“WHAT?? HERE???? Jeeeee-suuuuus Cheee-rist come ON!” Jensen said harshly, slamming his fist on the table.

“Ohhh man,” Smith added, shaking his head, incredulous.

“Lieutenant,” Jensen said, “ ain’t we done with this bullshit fest…”

All right all RIGHT!” the Lieutenant said loudly, firmly.

Bringing a moment of quiet.

Clarisse…” he said.

“I’m waiting for my husband,” she said again softly, staring only at the Lieutenant’s eyes.

“He a BANKer, Cluhhhh-reeeese?”Jensen said, harsh now, openly sneering.

“He the one locked the doors on Sunday night with his banker buddies? Head for the bunkers and the Jetsons after they tossed the keys in the trash?”

Smith laughed along with him, angrily.

Even the Lieutenant smiled.

“Maybe he with A.I. FUCKing G, man,” Smith chimed in, chuckling, and they all sneered in their laughter now.

Even the Lieutenant smiled. Still looking only at her. She at him.

Him sizing her up. Letting his men do the sparring.

All of them chuckling at the old jokes.

Stale jokes, but they were fat and happy now. Time for a laugh on her, her bullshit story.

“He the one give us the hundred dollar bills to roll our joints with?” Jensen said, laughing like hell now.

Smith too, laughing harder at that one.

Even the Lieutenant smiling wider.

Letting his men laugh. Sizing her up the whole time.

“No,” she said, still calm and trying for serenity.

Looking at them like a nice teacher letting her students have a laugh before starting the lessons.

Her hand on the bread knife handle, behind her.

“He was an accountant…”

This brought a harder laugh from all three of them.

“Oh MAN!” Jensen said, actually belly laughing now.

“You can’t MAKE this shit up!” Smith said, laughing like they hadn’t in a while, she knew, watching them.

“Maybe he was sucking a congressman’s dick down in the bunker and he forgot to come out, LEFT you here Cluhhhh-reeese!” Jensen said, laughing hard.

Smith too.

“All right all right,” the Lieutenant said. Smiling but signaling, ‘end this we had our laugh’.

Calming it down a little.

“Okay,” he said again.

Now we’ll see how this goes, she thought.

They all paused for a moment. Looking at her, she back at them.

“No. He’ll be here. He has…connections, yes, but not the Government. Not the IPF….”

“You got IPF written all OVER you bitch!” Jensen said.

Here we go, she knew.

Watching him.

Jensen.

Here we go.

“Why didn’t you head for the city, Clarisse?” the Lieutenant asked. “Get behind a blue zone?”

“He didn’t believe in the martial law..IPF…wanted to prove a point, stay in our home…..”

“And BULLshit WALKS man!” Jensen said. “You gonna eat the shingles?”

“Why didn’t you join us?” the Lieutenant asked.

“I would have,” she said evenly, firmly, looking right at him as she said it. Just him.

“He didn’t believe it needed to come to that….”

They all stared in awkward silence.

But she saw the change come over Jensen…the jokes all done now…how he was staring at her now…the dynamic changing instantly.

An eerie quiet after all the laughing…..now that they thought she was just a hot babe dumped and left behind by some weakling fuck-wad who hadn’t joined them, her all full of bullshit.

Afraid. Alone. Putting up a good front. Rich lady who didn’t run fast enough as they came sweeping in.

Major hot babe all alone in a goddam war zone.

Jensen would be the dangerous one now, she knew.

Her hand gripped the knife handle behind her as he stepped closer, toward her.

His face different.

Wolf smile.

Unmistakable.

She could feel Smith’s eyes too. He would hang back she knew, see how the wind blows….

Jensen was the ugly one.

Big change coming over him, looking at her now…like the others weren’t even there.

“Why you got that robe on, Cluhhh-reeese?” he asked coyly….leaning his rifle against the wall….

Looking her up and down intently now.

She could see the bulge under his pants clearly.

They had all stopped smiling.

Smith just watching. Staring at her too….been a while for him too, young guy….

The Lieutenant bristling a little, grim now, suddenly, picking up on it, as he straightened his back, watching Jensen.

Burying his pain.

“Corporal, you and Smith patrol the perimeter,” he said firmly.

“Say WHAT?” Jensen said. “WHAT fucking perimeter!”

I SAID…”

“Come ON, Lieutenant!” Jensen said. “We’ll just HEAR the damn trucks we got a couple hours WHAT perimeter?”

Gazing like a hungry wolf at Clarisse now.

His thoughts obvious..with his belly full, she knew it would go like this.

“Maybe I like a little COMpany, huh, banker lady?’ he said snidely. Softly, like they were intimate.

Walking toward her. Undressing her with his eyes.

He won’t even care if the other two are here, Clarisse thought…as long as he lined up first…..

“Why you got that big robe on? Ain’t THAT chilly in here, huuuu-ney…banker lady…come patrol with me….show me what you done with the yard last summer…”

His dick was clearly hard in his pants now as he walked toward her.

Grim.

Dangerous.

Hungry.

Eyes all soft, looking at her.

“I LIKE that perfume…nice you dolled up for us, Cluhhh-reeeese….you a reeeeel freedom fighter hon….we taking it back huh? Right? You Betsy Ross, riiight? Keep the good guys happy, riiiiight?”

The Lieutenant stepped between them.

“I gave you an order, Corporal.”

Jensen stared at him.

Shaking, shaking a little now.

Ohhh, I get it,” Jensen said snidely now, voice full of venom.

“RHIP huh, Lieutenant? Pullin’ bars on me huh? Ain’t no rank when it comes to this pretty little freedom fighter, Loooo-TEN-ant….”

The Lieutenant, slightly taller than Jensen, bristled fully now, she saw, feathers out, forgetting his pain.

“I said patrol the God. Damned. Perimeter NOW, CORPoral!” he said.

They were only inches from each other, facing each other.

“Well maybe…” Jensen started to say.

“YOU remember fucking PITTSburgh, CORPORAL Jensen?” the Lieutenant said loudly. Steely voice now, full-on hardass. Nose to nose.

“Your SISTER was in that FEMA camp CORPORAL JENSEN!” the Lieutenant roared.

Jensen started to speak, didn’t get a chance.

“YOU remember fucking ERIE PENNSYLVANIA JENSEN! Your wife and KIDS in that fucking FEMA camp no running water? You remember the GODDAM BRONX JENSEN!” he roared, screaming in his Corporal’s face.

Jensen stared at the floor, shaking, face beet red….

“FUUUUUCK!!” Jensen screamed and smashed his fist so hard into the paneled wall it cracked. Loudly.

She and Smith were taken aback by the ferocity of it, only the Lieutenant not flinching.

“FUUUUUCK!!!!” Jensen said again and smashed his fist into the wall, breathing hard.

“Come on man,” Smith said, taking Jensen’s shoulder, “…you wouldn’t even be here wasn’t for…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Jensen roared.

Clarisse breathed a huge inner sigh of relief when she saw Jensen re-sling his rifle.

He stared at the Lieutenant, faces an inch apart.

“So RHIP, huh? Well we are EVEN, MISTER! You GOT that?? WE are EVEN!”

“Mister goddam who?” the Lieutenant said, his voice straight up iron.

“It’s LIEUTENANT to you, Corporal.”

They stared.

“Now patrol… the God…Damned…perimeter… the FUCK…. NOW!”

“Yes SIR!” Jensen said.

“Come on, man, come on,” Smith said, guiding Jensen out.

“Keep him the hell out there, do NOT come back in,” the Lieutenant said to Smith.

“Yes, sir.”

Clarisse openly sighed her relief now, taking her hand off the knife underneath her.

“We are EVEN, Loooo-TENANT!” Jensen yelled from the foyer.

And they were gone.

Just her and him now.

She knew it could go like that, if she played it right.

Here we are, she thought…everything coming together.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her, deflating, starting to breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He nodded.

“Here,” she said, nodding at the big blood stain on his left shoulder. “let me take a look at that. I used to be a nurse.Take your jacket and shirt off.”

“No, we’re heading back..”

“Come on,” she said, letting her robe fall open as she brushed past him.

When she came out of the bathroom with the First Aid Kit, he’d taken his jacket and shirt off.

His chest was all sinewy muscle. She noted a scar on his stomach.

He was staring at the bread knife on the stool.

Looked at her, didn’t say anything, looked at the knife, at her again.

His lips were pursed in a thin smile and he nodded his head up and down just slightly, smiling, looking at her.

Didn’t say a word.

It looked awful. Dark red, scabbed, covered with dried blood, the bone sticking out at an odd angle.

“Take these,” she said, handing him the pain pills.

“No, I can’t…”

“They wont make you drowsy. Go ahead,” she said, cleaning and dressing the wound as best she could.

He winced as he swallowed four of the pills.

Too many, but it didn’t matter.

“Close your eyes. This will hurt.”

He screamed a shrill, loud bloodcurdling cry as she jammed the bone back in.

His face was white, he was gasping.

“It’s okay…it’s okay,” she kept whispering.

When she finished dressing the wound, he was starting to breathe normally. She could see the pills kicking in.

She walked over to the cabinet she’d been sitting in front of earlier.

“Here,” she said, handing him two big jugs of water and a plain white box with coarse brown soap inside.

“Go clean up.”

He stared at her. Still breathing hard, eyes half-closed.

It must have hurt like hell, she knew, but he would be pain-free in a moment. She knew that too.

Looking her up and down now. Good, good.

“Your teeth too, here,” she said, handing him a tube of Colgate from her purse.

“Where the hell did you get…”

“Never mind. Tastes better than that bitter green Chinese stuff, go, go,” she said, smiling.

Close to him now, her robe open.

“Hurry.”

He did.

Went to her little downstairs bathroom off the dining room, next to her tiny guest room. Took his rifle.

Kept the door partly open, but he couldn’t see her as she walked into the dining room.

She stepped over the shards of what was left of her dining room set, the wood burned for heat last winter.

She pulled off her jeans, sandals. Unbuttoned her blouse but left it on, no bra, her ample breasts barely covered.

Reached into her purse. Put the chain around her neck.

Pressed her large, sparkling amethyst crystal, filled with sparkling shades of violets, purples, lavender, into her voluptuous cleavage.

Placed her red ruby in her belly button.

Sprayed another layer of her special perfume all around.

Unpinned her long jet-black hair and shook it out.

Put one foot up as she leaned against the wall, hands behind her back. A mischievous look on her face, he’d like that.

He came out, wearing just his pants, wiping his hair with her one of her good towels.

“BOY that felt good, thank…”

She almost laughed at how shocked he looked. Stopped frozen, his eyes bugging out of his head!

He drank her in, she could feel his eyes drink her in as he stopped frozen…drinking her all in.

His damn eyes are as big as dinner plates, she thought, watching him all ga-ga, speechless.

“All better?” she said softly, sultry, glaring back at him, a pouty smile on her lips, pushing off and walking slowly toward him.

She saw his eyes briefly fixate on her sparkling crystal, knowing the dim light would reflect just right.

“Clarisse, you don’t have to…”

“Shhhh,” she said, sliding her blouse off and letting it drop, walking slowly toward him.

“It’s Vernon, right?” she asked, pushing into him.

“Saw it on your name strip, your jacket…Vernon?”

“Yes. Vernon,” he said, looking down at her, gazing at her perfect large breasts, her crystal, drinking it all in, breathing faster.

Almost in spite of himself, his hands slid up her arms. Shoulders.

His B.O. was gone, she was thankful for that, as she took his face in her hands and reached up to give him a soft, warm, wet, long tongue-swirling kiss.

“You taste minty-fresh,” she whispered, giggling.

He laughed too.

Feeling the bulge growing in his pants. Pressing into him.

“That’s a nice name, Vernon,” she said, bringing her finger down his cheek before kissing him again.

He kissed her back now. Hard. Hungry.

“Mmmm, you need a break, Vernon…time for a little R&R honey, come on…”

She hooked her fingers into his waistband and led him into the guest room with the small single bed she’d had in her first apartment.

The headboard was gone, but the bed and bedding were all there.

“You married, Vernon?” she asked as she pushed him gently down on his back, careful to avoid the wounded shoulder.

“Yes, well, uh, I don’t know,” he whispered quietly, fixating on the crystal now, the ruby, her kissing his forehead as he said it.

“She, uh, was a teacher, running the Ration Station too….they,uh, took everyone to a FEMA Camp while I was on base, I was Supply…” he smiled a little at that…”and, well, she went into a FEMA Camp….never came out….”

She saw in his eyes that she didn’t have to ask anymore.

“Looked for her when we blasted into it…..I look for her whenever we liberate one,” he whispered…“haven’t seen her….” he trailed off, quietly.

“Okay,” she said softly, pushing him down, “come on Vernon, neither of us has our rings on right now, come on…”

His eyes were fixated on the crystal now, her breasts, back and forth…back and forth.

“Come on, Vernon, I’ll do you, you do me,”she said, putting his fingers in the elastic band of her pink silky panties.

He pulled them down, as she pulled down his pants and boxers.

She slid to her knees, his eyes on the ruby in her belly button, her crystal, her, as she reached down and pulled her panties all the way off.

She kissed the tip of his rigid massive hard cock, gently licking it, stroking it, careful not to let him come.

He moaned loudly, his head thrown back, breathing in short gasps.

She slid on top of him, straddling him.

“Is it good to please me, Vernon?” she asked softly, as he squirmed beneath her.

She reached behind and started moving her panties across the tip of his cock in rhythm to the crystal weaving in front of his eyes.

“Is it good to please me baby?”

Back and forth…back and forth…

His hips moving in the same rhythm, her crystal moving back and forth….back and forth…sparkling lavenders dancing off of it, she could see the reflection in his soft unfocused eyes…back and forth, back and forth…

“You want to please me, don’t you Vernon?”

“Yeeeessss,” he moaned.

Back and forth…

“Isn’t it good to be a good boy? Are you a good boy for me, Vernon?”

“Yesssss,” he hissed, gasping, sweating. squirming under her.

She slid her fingernails across his nipples, slid her panties across his chest.

“Goood boy…”

He was squirming wildly underneath her, eyes soft, unfocused, gazing up at her.

She lowered her breasts down, he sucked and licked greedily, swirling his mouth.

She was fast losing it too, waves of pleasure and need erupting in her tummy, between her legs.

“Show me,” she said, sucking on his nipples then sliding up his chest. Her pussy over his face.

“Show me what a good boy you are,” she rasped, breathing hard now too, both of them sweating harder.

The swirl of his tongue shot her straight into orbit…swirling around her labia, coaxing her hunger…

They both moaned loudly as she came, covering his face with her slick juices.

She slid down…took the tip of his cock across her pussy…

Making sure the crystal was in his face.

Back and forth…back and forth…his eyes now on the ruby in her tummy.

“Good boy, Vernon,” she moaned, coming down on him.

She took him in instantly…knew he would come instantly, both of them moaning wildly.

He came, and through the magic motion of her hips stayed rock hard as she rode him very hard, grinding down on him.

Rode him rode him rode him…waves of sweet need, glorious sweet need….

The crystal flying around her neck, him moaning, crying out….

They both screamed and came together again, her hair flying, their screams loud….moving together, bucking and grinding in total abandon.

Her head fell forward, her crystal dangling down, as she finally collapsed on top of him, both of them gasping for air. Covered in sweat. Dizzy.

His eyes were still closed as she took his head to her breasts, his cheek against the crystal.

They stayed there for what seemed to be a long time…breathing, gasping, drinking in air, coming down…breathing finally normally again.

She fought the urge to sleep, she knew he would sleep instantly on the soft bed if she wasn’t careful…finally pushed herself off.

“Come on Vernon, come on,” she said softly, kissing his forehead and getting up.

She ran out, pulled all of her clothes back on very fast, came back in the room, yanked hard on his arm.

“Come ON, Vernon, come ON,” she said.

He roused up, still dazed.

“Clarisse, I…” was all he said.

“Shhhh. Come ON!”

He did.

“Here, drink this.”

She pulled a can of Pepsi from her purse.

He guzzled it, suddenly realizing what it was, looked at her.

“Where the hell did you get…”

“Never mind. I have one more little treat for you baby…come ON.”

She bolted down to the garage, got the box out of the trunk of her little blue Buick, came back into the kitchen.

He was all dressed now, smiling for real at her now, amazed.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?”

She laughed, opened the box.

“Clarisse, come with us…please,” smiling like a little boy, slinging his rifle.

“No. But here.”

She took out a cake dish. Lifted the silver aluminum top.

Revealed a perfect double layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.

He just stared. She couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. How many times can he be amazed in one night?

“Clarisse who…the hell….ARE you?”

“Eat. Here.”

She took the knife off the stool, cut it in fours, put a jug of water down.

He didn’t have to be told twice. He dived into it like a starving man, taking huge bites, not even chewing, shoving it in.

“Best damn thing I ever tasted…” he said, smiling at her with chocolate all over his face, jamming it in, drinking big gulps of water.

“Aren’t you…?”

“No. Eat.”

“I should save some for the guys…”

“No. Just eat.”

He did. Inhaled it like she wasn’t even there.

When he was done—he had in fact saved half for his guys-- she said, laughing, “Rinse your face. You look like a kid on Halloween.”

They both laughed. He stood over the sink, cleaned up. She didn’t care about the water meter as he ran the faucet. Didn’t matter.

She put the half he’d saved in a tupperware.

“Hey Loo-TENANT,” Jensen suddenly yelled from outside,”git yer PANTS on loverboy!”

“They’re coming sir!” Smith yelled.

They could hear it too. The rumble of trucks.

“Come with us. Or…I’ll stay here with you….”

“No. Go ”

They stared at each other for a very long moment, him standing there with his little tupperware, just staring.

“I don’t suppose thank…”

“No need.”

Stared for a long moment.

He nodded and bolted out.

She looked at the door, hearing the trucks loud now.

Glanced at her watch. 10:24 pm.

Damn! DAMN!

She’d waited too long.

She bolted furiously out of her chair, grabbed her purse, flew into the garage.

“Damn damn damn,” she muttered as she took the transponder from behind the wheel of what was left of the lawnmower.

Threw her purse in the Buick. Grabbed the screwdriver tool from under the floor mat.

Tore off the fake steering wheel, fake dashboard, threw it down.

Didn’t matter.

“Dammit!” she kept saying, working furiously now to power up the Vehicle.

She typed equations furiously into the keypad—couldn’t automate this part yet, had to be done manually—working furiously fast. Trying to do in three minutes what takes five.

She hit Enter. Nothing.

“DAMN!”

Typed again, hit it, the Console came to life.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the electric-current feeling moving through her body.

Good, good.

But she heard them.

Dammit!

She’d wanted to be gone by now. Not hear them.

But she did.

“Come ON!” she yelled out loud.

Heard them loud now.

The light went to green and she jammed the throttle….

And was suddenly, instantly in the Void.

Suddenly, instantly, she was floating in Blackness.

Total Blackness all around her, darker than a cave. Didn’t see the Vehicle, her own body….just disembodied…in total Blackness….

Breathed a huge sigh of relief.

It was 10:31pm.

Gulped air in relief, the adrenaline gushing through her….

When the tears welled up.

She knew they would.

Hadn’t wanted to hear them….

She was gushing tears now. Crying, sobbing, blubbering like a baby floating in total Void, the Blackness of the Void.

Her body wracked with sobs, nose running, crying crying….sniffling, tears flowing down….

At 10:32 pm, she knew, a huge fleet of Jetsons would come screaming out of the sky.

Obliterate the convoy. Decimate it with showers of rockets.

The entire neighborhood—her house, them, all of it—would erupt in flames and death….

She cried cried cried as she floated….

But not out of sadness.

Not pain. Not from knowing they were all killed instantly….

They were tears of joy gushing from her face.

Absolute total tears of weeping exquisite Joy.

Pure pure, joy….

She sobbed, crying, blubbering…

Tears of total joy….

Because she’d seen his eyes.

Standing at that door.

Bright.

Alive.

Filled with Life.

Filled with Light…

His beautiful eyes bright and alive…filled with joyous light… gratitude… amazement…

Bright and alive.

Filled with light. Filled with love.

She’d seen his eyes. Bright and alive and filled with life.

She cried pure pure joy, floating in the Blackness……..