The Threat Below by Jason Latshaw

Author:Jason Latshaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ya, dystopian, speculative, extinction human pandemic, extinction of the human race, dystopian science fiction, dystopian female heroine, dystopian apocalyptic, dystopian action, postapocacylptic
Publisher: Jason Latshaw

Chapter 65

MY FIRST SURREAL thought is Oh, this is how it feels to be devoured.

She is on top of me, her arms around me, crushing me towards her. Is this why she dispatched the other beasts with such rage? So she could have me all to herself?

I feel no pain. I once read that some predators have the ability to make their victims numb, so there is less resistance, and no struggle. If this beast possesses this advantage, I’m grateful for small mercies.

The beast acts strangely (though I’m not sure what normal behavior would be when butchering a human). She sniffles and gasps for breath. I open my eyes, prepared for the blood-soaked worst, but find myself completely intact. I look around for Adorane, wondering if he’s already dead or coming to my rescue, but I don’t see him.

I push away from the beast, but she only grabs me tighter. I feel something hot streaming down my neck and back. The bloodletting has begun.

But I touch the wetness on my neck, and my hand is not stained red. It’s covered with water, or is it just sweat?

The beast releases me, and collapses to the ground face down. I get a good look at her. She’s not quite double my height, and, unlike the other creatures I’ve seen down here, appears to be a child, or more precisely, an adolescent. She bears the manic manner of something that wants to do everything at once, as she rises from the ground and grabs hold of me again. More sniffling, more wetness, and now I hear something else. Words, maybe, but not quite.

God, am I being devoured or adored? I think back to Adorane and Catalandi, entwined together in his room, and wonder if there’s much of a difference anyway. I’m not sure what is happening.

The beast holds me close to her and strokes the back of my neck. It’s calming, rhythmic, and anything but threatening. In this moment, I know for sure, she means me no harm. Though she does want something from me, I can feel her desire strong and palpable, as if it’s a physical force like wind or gravity.

She adjusts my shoulders until we face each other, and, using her taloned hand, lifts my chin, so that we’re looking at each other, face to face. I’m staring into the dead eyes of a fierce cat. I’m guessing it’s a Mountain Lion, with jaws frozen open in attack, perched atop a shadowy void. She lowers the Lion head, and all of her golden yellow fur sloughs off and falls to the ground along with it.

She’s not the beast I thought she was, her skin pale and porcelain white without the slightest trace of fur. She’s gracefully long, lean, and tautly muscled, and her face isn’t an awful shadowy nothing. Indeed, now that the moonlight hits it, I catch my breath. She’s beautiful, her large wide-set eyes a bright glacial blue. I tolerate, but don’t love, my own appearance. Some boys

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