Preacher and the Concubine - A Post-Apocalyptic Erotic Tale by Amy Morrel

Author:Amy Morrel [Morrel, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Amy Morrel
Published: 2014-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 7 – Flight

Mark and Kelly woke to the sound of the door being opened. The wedge beneath the door grated across the concrete beneath it.

“Who is it?” Mark called out.

“I came to get you out of there. Sun's coming up,” came the answer.

“Sorry, hold on a second and I'll remove the wedge.”

Mark trotted up the steps and pulled the wedge out, the door opened easily after that.

“Sorry about that, feeling a little paranoid last night,” Mark said.

“Don't blame you. But it's light out now, so...”

“Well, I'm not going to use the rest of my stay, so consider the rest of the food I brought for myself as your tip. It's back in the kitchen, just ask the cook about it.”

“Thank you,” the desk clerk said.

“We'll be on our way. You don't mind if we use the kitchen door again, do you?”

“No, I'll follow and lock it behind you though.”

Mark led the way to the kitchen with Kelly following behind him.

“We need to go to the stables at the edge of town,” Mark said.

“Horses? I can't ride a horse,” Kelly answered.

“No, I just parked my bike and cargo trailer there for safekeeping. The trailer's rigged with a seat so you can ride. It can carry a couple hundred pounds of supplies so there shouldn't be any problems.”

“Okay, but I can ride a bike.”

“I only brought the one bike though so you get to be a passenger.”

They moved carefully through town. The smell of soot and ash filled the air and they saw the burned out remains of the jail as they passed by. The buildings to either side were blackened by smoke but it looked like the bucket brigade had managed to keep them from burning at all.

When they reached the stables Mark tossed his bag to the ground.

“That thing's too heavy to leave on my shoulder. Keep an eye on it, will you? I'll be right out.”

Mark opened the creaky door and went inside as Kelly slumped down against the wall.

He blinked several times to adjust to the darker interior of the stables. When his eyes finished adjusting he headed for his bike. As he grabbed the handlebars and began to wheel it outside, a voice stopped him cold.

“Stop right there. Put your hands up where I can see them,” someone said.

Mark stopped and slowly raised his hands. The AR-15 rested uselessly on its strap, slung over one shoulder. He turned to look and found himself staring down the barrel of a large caliber rifle.

“What do you want?” Mark asked, “I've got hardly anything on me.”

“Where's the little bitch. I saw you grab her last night after I shot her. She's worth a pretty penny to me dead, so she's what I want. You'll be extra frosting on the cake since Preacher hates your guts too.”

Mark raised his voice.

“What? You think I'm going to tell you anything when you just told me you're giving me to Preacher?”

“Shut up and tell me. Otherwise the first shot goes into your kneecap.

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