Razor Girl (23 page)

His words sent chills down her spine that had nothing to do with the physical sensation of him running his hands through her hair. “It will be hard,” she said. “You may go through withdrawal.”

“I don’t care,” he replied. “It’ll be worth it.”

“Well, I’ll help in any way that I can.”

He grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her again with a ferocity once reserved for overly dramatic Hollywood movies.

“Get a room!” called out Torn.

They broke from the kiss, laughing a bit. “You’re just jealous,” Chase called back to him. “ ’Cause I got the girl.”

“Whatever, dude.” Torn slung an arm around Starr.

Chase turned to Molly. “Sorry about these clowns,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s okay.” She smiled. “I love them, too.” And she did, she realized. They really had become a little family. They all needed each other. And not just to survive, she realized, thinking back to the perversion of Paradise, but to keep alive the things about them that were good and right and human. And that was the reason they were staying alive.

“Dad, Dad!” Molly burst into Ian Anderson’s workshop, not caring about protocol or pissing him off. She was surprised the door hadn’t been locked, and she found him at his computer, typing furiously. Just seeing him there, calm, normal, not a monster, filled her with an overwhelming relief. She sank down into a nearby chair, head in her hands. “Oh God, Dad, it was so terrible!”

Her father rose from his computer, his expression grave. “What is it, Molly?” he asked.

“Monsters,” she blubbered, rising to her feet. “Like the one at the hospital. I didn’t imagine that one, because there are more. We were out at a party and—”

Her father took her by the shoulders and pushed her back so he could look her in the eye. His face was wild with anger and she retreated, almost frightened. So much for him being calm and normal. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in?” he demanded. His fingernails dug into her arms and she winced in pain. “Are you deaf or just plain stupid?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quavering. “But you’ve got to listen to me. There were monsters. Like…zombies or something. And they were attacking people. They were…” She trailed off, unable to voice what she had seen. “It was awful,” she finally said.

Her father released her. “Yes, I can imagine,” he said, sounding distracted. He wandered back to his computer, staring
down at the monitor as if it held the answers to all life’s questions. Maybe he thought it really did.

“God, this is a disaster. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” he muttered under his breath. “Not like this.”

“What?”

He straightened and turned back to her. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Dad?” She had to tell him the rest. The unbearable, awful rest.

“Yes?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but I think one of them was Erin. My best friend. She was sick. Her mom said she had the flu. But I came face to face with one of the monsters and I swear to God it was her. Or it
had been
her. She didn’t seem to recognize me.”

Ian nodded, not looking the least bit surprised. Probably he was the only man on Earth who wouldn’t tell her she was being ridiculous. “From our research, my coalition has determined that the Super Flu is affecting different people in different ways. Some people simply die. Those are the lucky ones. The others…well, these others seem to have their DNA mutated somehow. They have reduced brain function and increased hunger. They lose their body hair and experience skin discoloration, get open sores. They’re not zombies, per se, Molly. Far from it. They’re living, breathing humans. Completely alive. But they’re not your friends and neighbors anymore. They’re also infectious. Their saliva…Well, one bite and you could turn into one of them.”

Molly thought about how close she’d been to being bitten. By her best friend of all people. She sank into a chair, head in her hands. “Oh God,” she whispered. “When will it all end? And how?”

“Look, Molly,” her father said. “Things are likely to get worse before they get better. And I need for you to start taking things seriously. That means no leaving the house for parties anymore. And I don’t want you to go back to school. I can’t imagine it will stay open much longer, anyway. And no
more going to the supermarket. We have enough food, no matter what your mother thinks.”

“But Dad!” she protested. “I don’t want to be stuck here, locked away! And I can defend myself now that I know what’s going on. Wasn’t that what all the training was about? What’s the use of being alive if I have to spend my time in hiding, not being able to be with the people I care about?”

Ian nodded. “Indeed,” he said, “that’s what the training was about. I wanted to prepare you in case something went wrong. But I don’t think a few martial arts lessons are enough. You need more. Humanity needs more.” He rubbed his chin with his finger and thumb. “You need to be a Molly Millions.”

She looked at him, confused. What on Earth was he talking about? That razor girl in his
Neuromancer
book? That was ridiculous. After all, she was tough because she had cybernetic—

Oh, no. No, no, no.

“No way,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to let you implant me with that technology.”

He frowned, letting her know that this was exactly what he’d been thinking. “They’d help you survive,” he remarked. “And I’ve been perfecting them.”

“Survive? At what cost? Look what happened to the soldiers you created!” she cried. “Do you really want that for your daughter?” She also remembered the photos of the men her father had implanted so many years ago, their blank faces marred by metal. They were monsters, too. Just like Erin. Infected by metal instead of disease.

“That was not the cybernetics’ fault,” her dad retorted. “That was their inadequate government training and then their psychological response to being asked to do things outside of human nature. Sure, it’s easy to blame the tech, but those soldiers would have been fine if they’d been trained as I mandated. They were unprepared for what they were sent to do.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I’ve even removed everything questionable from the software. Look, Molly, cybernetics don’t kill people. People kill people.”

She couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. That her father—her own father—wanted to turn her into a cyborg. “I’m not going to let you do that to me. I’m not a soldier. I don’t want to be a soldier. I’m just a plain high-school kid!”

“There is no more high school, and just plain kids won’t survive. This is the end of the world as we know it we’re talking about. It’s no game. And I’m offering you the best chance possible to come through on the other side. To be part of the Earth’s future.”

“And it means turning me into a robot.”

Her father looked pained. “You won’t be a robot. You’ll just have…parts. Very tiny, non-obtrusive parts that will help you see further, react faster, fight better. Parts that will help you survive what ever may come.” He paused, peering at her over his glasses. “You do want to survive, don’t you, Molly?”

She hung her head, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. “Of course,” she whispered at last. “But at what price?”

“Look,” her dad said, walking back over to his computer. “We don’t have to do this today. We still have some time left, and I still have some things to do before we go underground. You think about it and come back to me when you’ve decided. I will ultimately leave it up to you.”

“Fine.” She knew her answer, but at least this would buy some time. She started back up the basement stairs.

“Oh, and Molly?” her dad called after her.

She paused on the top stair. “Yeah?”

“Until you’re properly outfitted to survive, I don’t want you leaving the house. Not ever again.”

“But Dad—”

“You want to see your friends? You want to see your boyfriend, whom you started dating against my advice? You need protection. So until you agree to the cybernetics, you are not leaving the house. Don’t think it’ll be otherwise.”

Chase woke to the sound of soft breathing next to him. Helga had taken the night watch, and he and Molly were able to curl up together in a motel room, snuggling close. There was little light, except what flickered in through the curtained window from the campfire, but they were both mentally and physically exhausted from the ordeal and had immediately passed out in each other’s arms.

Molly was curled into him, her small body melting into his. He absently brushed her hair with his hand, fingering the smooth strands. How he’d wanted this, and for so long. Now here she was. All his. At last.

The moment should have been perfect. But he couldn’t relax. Not with the itching. Low in his belly first, then crawling up and down each limb.

It had been easy to make a promise to himself to give up the drugs when he was bargaining for his life and trying to appease the girl of his dreams; it was a lot harder to act on that promise in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. No more pills. Not just to night, but not ever again. The rest of his life spilled out in front of him, and it suddenly seemed very bleak.

He tried to tell himself that his love for Molly was enough. Surely she could satiate his hungers, his desires. But the gnawing attacked him like a thousand tiny midges prickling his skin, and no amount of scratching would make it go away.

Molly shifted in her sleep, moaning a bit, and he wondered if she was dreaming about him. He felt so weak, so awful, lying there with her in his arms and unable to think of anything but a hit. How was he going to kick the habit while on the road? He knew the physical withdrawal would likely render him sick as a dog, and Molly couldn’t wait for him.

“You okay?” she murmured, half-asleep, turning to face him.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. She was so beautiful. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re not sleeping. Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Yeah, but…” He felt his face burn in shame. He was such a loser. So weak.

“You can tell me.”

And suddenly he wanted to. He was sick of acting unnaturally strong. He wanted to lean on the woman he loved, allow her to see the real him. The weak, vulnerable him. “It’s hard to sleep without the drugs,” he admitted. “When darkness falls, they’re all I can think about. I…ache without them. I itch.” There, he’d said it. Let her take the truth as she would. Maybe she’d kick him out of bed, yell at him for how pathetic he was for having stumbled into this addiction.

But she didn’t. “Oh, Chase,” she whispered, kissing him lightly on the mouth.

“I’m sorry to even mention it,” he said, fighting humiliation. “And I’m not going to take anything. I swore that to you and I meant it. But that doesn’t make it any easier. And it doesn’t make sleep come any faster.”

“I know something that may,” she murmured, reaching down under the covers. At first he had no idea what she was planning. Then he gasped as he felt her hand searching and finding him. His cock thickened as she ran light fingers over it through the sweatpants he wore. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Was this a dream?

“God,” he muttered. She was right. He suddenly wasn’t thinking at all about the drugs. He clawed at the sheets. “Oh God, that feels so good.”

She smiled gently, still stroking. Her other hand found his face and turned it so he was facing her. Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth against his, moving her lips, her greedy little tongue coaxing his mouth to part and allow her inside, all the while running her hand up and down the length of him. He met her tongue with his, stroking, teasing, way too slowly for his taste. But he didn’t want to scare her away. This was her idea, and he wanted to see how far she’d take it.

Still, he wished she’d pull his pants down already, grip his cock tightly in her hands as he’d imagined her doing so many lonely nights over the last six…no, twelve years—nights he’d been forced to substitute his own hand. Even when they’d been kids they’d never consummated the relationship.

“It seems crazy that I’ve never done this,” she confessed in a whisper against his mouth. Her breath smelled sweet. Like minty toothpaste. She must have found some in the motel bathroom. She laughed a little. “That we never did this. Of course, I never did get my LTF.”

“Me neither,” he said, mindlessly trying not to go cross-eyed as she finally did reach into his pants, wrapping her hands around his rock-hard length. “So I guess technically we’re breaking the law.”

She giggled. It was a sweet sound that sent chills through him that had nothing to do with sexual desire. God, he loved this woman so much. Since first grade he’d wanted her. In high school, for that brief time, he’d had her heart only to have her body and soul ripped away from him. And now, here she was. Both of them were adults. They were finally ready to consummate what had been so many years in the making.

He couldn’t lie still anymore. He was itching again, but this time not for opiates. He reached over and trailed his fingers up and down her arm, tickling her sensitive skin. She let out a soft moan, letting him know he was doing something right. He was reminded once again of the woman who’d been his first time, how he’d rushed through sex, desperate for orgasm. Now he understood the woman’s words. When you loved someone, you wanted to take your time.

Leaning over Molly, he trailed kisses down her jaw while running his hand over her breasts and hips. Those soft curves contrasted with the muscles of her stomach. Unable to control himself a moment longer, he yanked down the strap of her nightgown, exposing her breast. The nipple was puckered and taut.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he whispered.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied.

No so bad? Ha! Chase was the most amazing specimen of a man Molly had ever seen. Not that this was saying much. She was admittedly completely inexperienced, but she knew if she’d seen a thousand naked men none would ever compare.

His expression told her he was in no mood for silliness. His eyes roved her body like a wild lion would a veldt, assessing and choosing his prey. He caught her hands and pulled them over her head, then rolled atop her, one knee between her thighs.

“You gotta stop,” he whispered. “You’ll make me come.”

He leaned down then, still pinning her hands above her, and began to lave her exposed breast with his tongue. Soft licks interspersed with tiny bites. Plea sure swirled with slight but delicious pain, a whirlwind of sensations she’d need a thesaurus implant to describe. It was enough to simply say he felt very, very good.

He released her hands and she went straight for his shirt, wanting to see him naked. He laughed at her efforts and yanked the garment over his head, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. Reaching out to touch, concentrating so as to not lose control of her razors this time, she felt hard muscles encased in impossibly soft skin and fell in love with him all over again. He groaned as she pawed him, biting down on his lower lip.

“Do you want this?” he asked, cupping her breast in his hand and tweaking the nipple. “I don’t want to go too fast.”

She appreciated the kindness, but she was already way beyond stopping. “I want you,” she said, as the romance
heroines in her mother’s books had been known to do. “Make love to me.”

It was all the invitation he needed. He pulled down her lacy pan ties, exposing her core. His fingers found ways to plea sure her, rhythmically pressing against her. Two slipped deep inside. It sort of hurt, but at the same time felt indescribably good. It felt
right
.

Chase brought his fingers to his lips and licked away Molly’s sweetness. She tasted better than he could have imagined. He needed more. Now. Thank God she’d said yes. He didn’t know what he’d have done if she had refused. Pleasuring himself would forever again be a hollow pastime compared to touching her and being touched by her.

He got down on his knees at the edge of the bed and yanked her closer, and she lay open and exposed before him. He attacked, devouring all the sweetness he could find, alternating with tongue and fingers. It was hard to remember to be gentle. To take his time, as that older woman had directed. His erection throbbed and begged to be encased in her hot body. Enveloped, sheathed, possessed. By Molly.

But she was a virgin. And her first time would hurt. So he ignored his need and took his time, stretching her slowly, pressing his fingers in and out, preparing her for his entrance. Would she like the feeling of him inside of her? Would it bring her plea sure? Or would it frighten her? He didn’t want to hurt her.

Her shallow breathing, her uneven gasps excited him as his fingers continued to thrust in and out. He leaned in again for another taste. “Mmm, you’re so delicious,” he heard himself say, then blushed at the words. He sounded like the star of that cheesy porn sim Tank had played before the plague.

Yet he couldn’t help it. It was amazing he had any mind left to be embarrassed.

“Mmm,” Molly moaned, closing her eyes and arching her back.

And that was it. He had to be inside of her as soon as possible.

He joined her back on the bed. Kissed her mouth. “Are you ready?” he whispered in her ear. His tongue darted out to lick the lobe. She squirmed in plea sure. “This might hurt a bit at first.”

“I’m ready,” she said, spreading her legs. “I’m really ready.”

Which was all the invitation he needed. He slipped his cock against her, sliding the head up and down. She was soaking wet, which would at least make things easier. He felt himself break out into a cold sweat as he slowly pushed inside her and then even more slowly withdrew. It was all he could do not to come right then and there. Pathetic much? But he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated as best he could to hold back. Still, marathon sex this session just wasn’t meant to be.

“Oh God,” he muttered, his thrusts quickening. “I don’t know how I’m going to hold on.”

“Hold on?” she asked with appealing innocence. “For what?”

He smiled against her mouth. “You’ll see,” he said. And he was very happy to show her. Happy that she’d never been with another man. It made the encounter all the more special.

He reached down and stroked her as he continued to thrust, attempting to bring her to climax before he lost himself. And thank the Lord, a few minutes later she was returning his thrusts, breaths sharp and quick, head back, back arched. And then it hit her and she cried out, grasping a fistful of sheets as he brought her over the edge.

Seeing her orgasm had to be the most amazing thing ever. He rocked against her, sweating, consumed, no longer gentle, no longer sweet. His body slapped against hers and she ground against him. He felt the tidal wave crest, the sensation consuming him, and he allowed himself to go, to be swept away, shuddering as he erupted hotly inside her. The sensation was like nothing he’d ever felt.

Boneless, he collapsed atop her. She wrapped her arms
around him and kissed him over and over again on his cheeks, nose, mouth, and ears.

“Wow,” he said, his voice husky. He rolled on his side and stroked her hair, which was damp with sweat. She was so beautiful. So amazing. So his.

“I love you, Molly Anderson,” he said, utterly sated. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you, too, Chris Griffin. Chase.” She smiled and cuddled closer to him, her naked body pressed against his. She felt amazing. Truly amazing. He wanted to lie like this for the rest of his life.

Fuck the drugs. He had something much better now. Nothing on Earth was going to make him lose that.