Humanity's Endgame by Eve Langlais

Author:Eve Langlais [Langlais, Eve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eve Langlais

Chapter 11

For the first time in forever, I slept cuddled in someone’s arms. Woke to Xavion lightly kissing my shoulder.

I shoved him. “Ew. Way too sticky. I need to wash first.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. How does a shower sound?”

Say what? Most water coming out of pipes these days was dirty. It required filtering to even drink. Clean water meant putting out buckets and hauling them. Despite the effort, I fetched enough water to washcloth myself a few times a week.

But Xavion didn’t have a bucket. He had a shower.

“There’s no hot water,” he said, “but lucky for us, this building actually had a rooftop cistern. It’s still collecting and dispensing.”

As if I cared. I welcomed the cold water and the soap. I’d not had a proper cleanse since the last rainstorm when I’d stood on a rooftop shivering, hoping I didn’t get killed because I wanted shampooed hair.

Today, I didn’t shower alone, and even better, I enjoyed a morning sausage. First the dick kind, then an actual hunk of meat.

“Where did you find this?” I asked as he handed me some salted jerky. The store-bought kind had long expired and gone rancid.

“Made it,” he admitted with pride.

“From an animal?” It occurred to me I’d only seen one type of living creature.

Seeing my face, he laughed. “Yes, an animal!”

“Is it rat?” I’d always been taught they and cockroaches would be the only things that would survive the apocalypse.

“It’s rabbit. The ones immune to the plague have been multiplying like crazy. Lack of predators in the wild has been helping.”

I loved bunnies. In the olden days, I would never eat one. Protein, though. I bit into the jerky and felt happy. “I thought you were a fish man.”

“Mostly. But I’m also practical. This salts easier and doesn’t take up much room.”

It was salty and delicious, as was his cum because I later did something I didn’t do for many guys.

But he was special. He made me feel special. Happy.

After the sex, he showed me the building and the security he’d built in. When we’d come up the stairs, I’d assumed he had almost none, other than the brace on the stairwell door. After all, the apartment was left open. What I didn’t see was the threads he’d placed over some entrances. Subtle and yet clever.

He’d barricaded ventilation shafts. Created a noisy curtain over the elevator opening. As for the stairway, in case they made it past the main floor to ours, he showed me the bucket he kept over it.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

“Oil.”

“How did we not knock it over last night?”

“The bucket is for when I’m in residence. When I leave, I put the thread over the door. If someone opens it, the thread I crazy glue over the seam snaps.” He pointed to the remains. They seemed like a cobweb.

“I never noticed yesterday.” Then again, I’d been out of breath and eager to stop climbing by that point.

“And I doubt the mutants will either, or any survivors that come poking.”

“I just kept my door locked,” I admitted.

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