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Serial - My Wasteland Angel Part 7
🕑 Added 2018-05-16 17:10:34 +0000 UTC She had washed me from head to toe, except for the bandaged area that she had cleaned yesterday. She had hit every nook and cranny with that gentle meticulous touch. She had pulled up my underwear after she was done there. It had been some time since I had been this clean. The dust floating in the parched hot air immediately starts settling on me again, but still it felt good for the caked on gore and grime to be gone.When she finishes she returns the cloth to the bucket. She gets up and drags the bucket to the edge of the shaded area. Keeping her back turned to me she washes herself, though she keeps her clothes on. As I watch her washing in under her clothes I think that she must be very hot in that outfit.
I wished I could tell her that I wouldn't harm her. I wished I could thank her for all she had done for me. I owed everything to her...how could I ever repay a debt like that?
When she is done she stands and looks out over the blindingly bright roasting daylit area in front of the shelter. I could see she wanted to leave but the heat was nearing it's peak. It was unbearable here in the shade, out there would be hell itself. She glances over to the empty bottle, probably regretting not bringing more drinking water with her into the shelter.
She turns back and heads for her pack. She wasn't talking and she was keeping her distance. This wasn't like her. She seemed embarrassed for what she had done with me. She didn't know how to act around me anymore. She begins looking through her pack, seeming to be looking for nothing in particular, as she mutters very quietly to herself. Her back was to me again.
She was stuck in here with me for at least a couple of hours. I wanted to set her mind at ease somehow. An idea strikes me. I knew it would hurt but I force myself to speak regardless. “Gahbee. Booo...k....” I swallow and sneer in pain. “Book.” I point toward the pack.
She swivels her head around to look at me. She was surprised. “The book? You really want me to read to you?”
I nod.
She looks at me curiously for a moment until...her smile lights my life once more. It only lasts an instant but I knew what I saw. “Okay Filth.” She rustles in the pack and pulls out the old detective novel. She hurries to my side to show it to me. She shows me the faded stained cover, the original art was still visible. It showed a shapely sultry woman in a form fitting red gown holding a small pistol and standing across from her was a dark haired man in a fedora and overcoat. The woman looked ready to shoot the male.
Gabby wipes the cover with her palm despite the fact it was already as clean as it was going to get. “Look at that dress. Can you believe they used to wear clothes like that?” There she was, there was the talkative Gabriela I missed. “I bet it was hard to walk with your legs so tight together. And look at her hair...so nice. It's long, like yours. Maybe I should grow mine out. Long hair is so pretty but...it's so much easier to look after when it's short.”
Her fingers run across the picture as she takes in every detail. My eyes were on her. She seemed to take a childlike delight from looking over this picture and she looked all the more lovely for it.
After a time she finally opens it and begins to read. Her voice initially soft and unsure, but soon rising to a lovely steady tenor. She even reads all the stuff at the front of the book, stopping periodically to wonder about this or that. I marvel at her skill and speed as she reads. I was literate, a rarity among raiders, but I still had to sound out words sometimes to make sense of them. She read with such effortless grace that it almost seemed she was making it up as she went. I knew she wasn't as she was showing me the pages, I caught enough to know she was actually saying the words off of the page.
Between my three distractions, the pain, the heat, and her beauty, I am only half able to follow the story. It involved a private detective looking into the murder of an eccentric millionaire. The victim's grieving widow is convinced her husband's brother is to blame. The detective begins looking into things and asking all sorts of questions to all sorts of people. The whole thing seemed ridiculous to me. These people in the book just talked and talked and talked. The detective would talk to this person, then ask a bunch of the same questions to another person, which lead him to anther person. He never seemed to DO anything. He carried a gun yet he never used it. I knew if I was that widow my husband's brother would be drawing his last breath in short order.
Gabby loved it however. She was engrossed by it. She would stop here and there to talk about some story detail or ponder some mysterious old world reference. “What do you think a Palooka is? What a weird word.” and such like that. I enjoyed the asides much more than the actual story.
As usual the more she sits beside me and talks the closer and closer she gets. Her nervous incessant rocking starts up again too. By the time the worst of the mid day sun was past she was right against me talking freely and easily again. I was relieved for the awkwardness to be gone between us.
As she finishes a chapter she reluctantly closes the book. “Oh, that was fun. So much left to do though.” She looks at me and at last gives me a long genuine proper smile. “I'll be back as soon as I can. You really look and smell much better now Filth.” She puts the book away and goes about getting ready to leave once more.
I let out a pained gasp. “Gahbee...”
She turns to look at me. I look to my bound hand and leg. I pull against the bindings. Then I look back to her. She looked nervous, scared actually. She knew what I wanted.
She swallows hard and nods. She sets out the clothes she had gotten me beside me then gathers up the things she would need before she went out again. She double checks everything and seems satisfied that she was ready to go. She then takes up the canister of pepper spray. She points it straight at my face. “Please don't try anything Filth. Please.” She pleads.
I nod.
She hunches down over me, squatting over my legs, and working one handed starts to free my leg. It is a struggle doing it with one hand but she wasn't going to take any extra risks. The pepper spray never wavers from pointing at my face. She glances back and forth between me and the knots she is working against. I lay still, not wanting to spook her. After she frees my leg she takes a deep breath and pauses. She looks me in the eyes, I can see the fear in them. “I saved you Filth. You still need me. Do you understand? You won't make it far with those injuries. Okay?”
I nod again. She was right of course, but the reminder was unnecessary as I had no desire to harm her. And I definitely did not want her to leave.
She goes about freeing my hand. The moment that it is loose enough and I am pulling my hand from the looped cord she springs away from me, spray at the ready. Seeing I am unbound and starting to move she turns and runs from the shelter without another word. Clouds of dust are kicked up by her sprinting feet as she dashes across the clearing in front of the shelter.
I rasp after her fleeing form. “Thaaank..oooo...”
She does not hear me.
Comments
Grimbous
Thanks man. I am quite enjoying this one myself. It's gotten a cool reception on Chyoa so far, but I'm not too surprised by that actually.
Symbiotic Life
Actually to go even a step further I hope you're not done with this universe after this story, the post apocalyptic theme is interesting and has a lot of potential. Not only because it easily enables odd relationship dynamics (something you love writing clearly!) but also allows an excuse for futanari.
Symbiotic Life
God I love this story so far. I wonder if Filth actually has a real name though, or if and when we'll learn about where these two came from exactly.
