The small firelight licked along the stone floor and illuminated her face.
His beautiful Epsilom.
Outside, the skeletons of trees bowed deeply to the earth, their branches covered in ice.
He didn't watch but listened as Satan's Bitches descended upon a small group of survivors in the long stretch of snow in the valley below.
He had dragged himself waist deep through that snow a turn of the moon ago, or was it two turns? There was no need for days or weeks or months any
more.
He pressed himself down on the ground , praying the dirt would hide the sound of his breath from escaping the cave and moving to the valley floor,
where the Hornets could hear him. When they descended on someone, they screamed and buzzed like a furious swarm. Some Grunt from the Phoenix Second
had given the Bots that name for when they killed in a pack. And, so the term “Hornets” stuck.
The screams vanished.
He lifted himself off the ground, dirt caked in his mouth and turned to her .
“We 'll go down at first light and gather what's left of them”
His mouth watered at the thought of food, he couldn’t remember how long ago it was when he actually felt guilt for eating the headless corpse of
someone from his platoon.
Epsilom looked on.
She was still.
Her eyes were half closed. She was often silent. But that’s what he loved about her.
‘There comes a time in every life when all gets quiet and the only thing left is love. ‘ He thought. He knew her heart, through her silence.
“We’ll rest now” He spat out the grime from his mouth, then glanced quickly to see if his disgusting behaviour annoyed her.
She was still.
He walked over to her, lay his head in her lap, within a wink, he slept.
Again, nightmares of the Bloodless Witch possessed him. Her flesh half rotten, her right arm had been ripped off and only a shredded metallic stump
covered in dried blood and flesh was left. Her other arm a giant gun. She walked with purpose towards him, the leader of their rebellion, and his
courage failed him.
He felt the piss warm the rotted clothes left covering his skeletal leg. He also smelt the rot of dead flesh, he did not know if it was hers or his.
The Bloodless Witch raised her left arm, not that it much resembled a human arm so much as an amalgamation of metal and foetid meat ending in a barrel
that dealt out death and pointed it at Mahtos' eye. He looked over her female form that was covered in sparse ripped cloth as filthy as the ragged
Buffalo hide pants he had just defecated in.
“She is ours”
He woke and knew by the reek that his dream had made him urinate. He worried Epsilom would know.
She was still.
Looking up he raised his hand and cupped Epsilons’ metallic and rotted flesh cheek.
“No you are mine”
edit on 9-8-2012 by zazzafrazz because: (no reason given)