brigid_fitch
Redhead=fire in bed
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2006
- Posts
- 1,249
Lauren and Adam ~ Weatherford, OK
He took her hand, still obviously nervous, but this practiced gesture of civility was at least easy for them both. He was much taller than she, almost half a foot, she guessed, and, she had to admit, very, very good looking. Deep brown eyes, tanned skin, tousled black hair, and very muscular. She assumed he had been either a ranch hand or construction worker pre-Flu--he had a weather-beaten look about him and his hands were calloused from hard work. Against her soft, well-manicured hands, it was like shaking a piece of sandpaper. She slid her hand from his grip--firm, but a little needy--and watched him shift uncomfortably as he tried to decide what to do next.
"You're right Lauren its nice to know we're not alone in this world, it gives hope that there are others out there."
Okay, not a big conversationalist, she thought. She smiled again at him--he was cute, in a puppy dog way. Lauren hated puppy dogs. Still, he was the only living person she had seen in days and there was that nagging thought in the back of her mind still: What was it about this kid that, like her, had survived the contagion? What was his destiny and how did it apply to her?
So ah I'm staying at a house about half a mile up the road. It's big, it doesn't smell of death and it has big beds...ah I mean big bedrooms who ever owned it had really good security no vandals nothing..."
"That sounds great, Adam," Lauren replied, ignoring the Freudian slip about the beds. She wasn't ready to explore this house of his just yet--she wanted to check out the radio station and tweak the message a bit. She had found the station handily, but challenges like that were easy for Lauren. The rest of the sheep out there, though, were bound to have far more difficulty even coming close. She would make the message more specific, so they would know exactly where to congregate. There had to be more people out there than just the two of them. However, there was that bit of Twilight Zone irony that kept trying to bubble to the surface. Adam. Of course his name was Adam. How cliched.
"Well I know I'm hungry care to follow me?" He said as he walked towards a jeep parked next to the station.
He's been out here for at least two days and he's living off beans and bread, Lauren thought, incredulously. She looked around and saw at least two fast-food chains, a cafe, and a diner. It hadn't occured to him to raid their pantries? Granted, the whole area had been looted, but there must have been something other than beans and bread mix left over. Besides not wanting to leave the station before fixing the broadcast, she still needed to put the gun away. She backed away a bit, not turning around lest he see the revolver in her waistband, and popped the hatch on the SUV.
"Actually, if it's all right with you, I've got some powdered eggs and vacuum-packed bacon in the back here. I'm sure the station has a kitchen where I can just nuke the stuff." She buried the revolver in one of the rucksack's pockets, making sure its form couldn't be seen through the nylon, but still where she could quickly get at it. Shouldering the rucksack, she came back around the SUV and walked towards the station door.
"C'mon, I'll fix you breakfast. I even have coffee and creamer in here."
He took her hand, still obviously nervous, but this practiced gesture of civility was at least easy for them both. He was much taller than she, almost half a foot, she guessed, and, she had to admit, very, very good looking. Deep brown eyes, tanned skin, tousled black hair, and very muscular. She assumed he had been either a ranch hand or construction worker pre-Flu--he had a weather-beaten look about him and his hands were calloused from hard work. Against her soft, well-manicured hands, it was like shaking a piece of sandpaper. She slid her hand from his grip--firm, but a little needy--and watched him shift uncomfortably as he tried to decide what to do next.
"You're right Lauren its nice to know we're not alone in this world, it gives hope that there are others out there."
Okay, not a big conversationalist, she thought. She smiled again at him--he was cute, in a puppy dog way. Lauren hated puppy dogs. Still, he was the only living person she had seen in days and there was that nagging thought in the back of her mind still: What was it about this kid that, like her, had survived the contagion? What was his destiny and how did it apply to her?
So ah I'm staying at a house about half a mile up the road. It's big, it doesn't smell of death and it has big beds...ah I mean big bedrooms who ever owned it had really good security no vandals nothing..."
"That sounds great, Adam," Lauren replied, ignoring the Freudian slip about the beds. She wasn't ready to explore this house of his just yet--she wanted to check out the radio station and tweak the message a bit. She had found the station handily, but challenges like that were easy for Lauren. The rest of the sheep out there, though, were bound to have far more difficulty even coming close. She would make the message more specific, so they would know exactly where to congregate. There had to be more people out there than just the two of them. However, there was that bit of Twilight Zone irony that kept trying to bubble to the surface. Adam. Of course his name was Adam. How cliched.
"Well I know I'm hungry care to follow me?" He said as he walked towards a jeep parked next to the station.
He's been out here for at least two days and he's living off beans and bread, Lauren thought, incredulously. She looked around and saw at least two fast-food chains, a cafe, and a diner. It hadn't occured to him to raid their pantries? Granted, the whole area had been looted, but there must have been something other than beans and bread mix left over. Besides not wanting to leave the station before fixing the broadcast, she still needed to put the gun away. She backed away a bit, not turning around lest he see the revolver in her waistband, and popped the hatch on the SUV.
"Actually, if it's all right with you, I've got some powdered eggs and vacuum-packed bacon in the back here. I'm sure the station has a kitchen where I can just nuke the stuff." She buried the revolver in one of the rucksack's pockets, making sure its form couldn't be seen through the nylon, but still where she could quickly get at it. Shouldering the rucksack, she came back around the SUV and walked towards the station door.
"C'mon, I'll fix you breakfast. I even have coffee and creamer in here."
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