Commodity (27 page)

“You’re the reason I survived,” she says, correcting me.  “If it weren’t for you, I couldn’t have endured it.”

“But…you thought I was dead.”

She nods and closes her eyes.  She grips my hand tightly with her fingers as she speaks.

“Every time they…every time someone came for me, I just closed my eyes and thought about you holding me.  I thought about your arms around me, wrapping me up and keeping me warm.  I didn’t think about what was happening—I only thought about you.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

“Falk…”  Hannah sits up, places her free hand on her face, and lets out a long sigh.  “I don’t want to go over this all the time.  I don’t want to have to think about it anymore.  I need
you
.  I need to feel
your
hands on me.  I need to feel
your
cock inside of me.  I need you to…to…”

Her voice cracks, and she lets out a shuddering breath.

“I need to feel
you
again so I can stop feeling
them
.”

Pressure behind my eyes threatens to give way, but I blink it back.  Hannah releases my hand, lies down again, and then runs her hand over my hip.  She grips my shaft, stroking it slowly as I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling.  I reach for her thigh, and she wraps it around my hip.  Running my hand up over her ass, I lean over to kiss her again.

My dick throbs in her hand, and I gasp into her mouth as she squeezes the shaft for a moment.  She slides her fingers over my balls, sending tingles up my spine.  I caress her back and then cup her face with my hand.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes.”

“Please, tell me you’ll stop me if you need to.  I know I keep saying it, but I want you to be sure. 
I
want to be sure.”

“I will.  Falk, it’s okay.  I want this so much.  I
need
it.”

Staring into her eyes, I find them dark and shimmering with desire.  Her mouth is partially open, and the heat from her breath touches my skin.  My pulse increases as I brush my thumb over her lips.

She really wants this.

I run my hands all over her.  I don’t want to leave a single square inch of skin untouched.  I want to go down on her—feel her come on my face—but I’m honestly not sure how to do that with her stomach the way it is.  I stay on my side and opt for another tactic.  Reaching down between her legs, I slowly part her folds and slip a finger inside.  She’s warm and soft, so I add another finger as she groans and bites down on her lip.

Circling her clit with my thumb, I press my lips to hers, cradling her head with my free hand.  Our tongues meet, and she grabs the back of my head to bring me closer and deepen the kiss.  I feel warm everywhere as well as slightly dizzy.

I just want to give her everything.

It’s been so long, and I can’t wait any longer.  I get up on my knees and look her over, trying to figure out what angle to use.  I don’t think I can kneel between her legs and hold her up without putting her in a really awkward position, so I drop my feet to the floor.  I reach under her and pull her body to the edge of the bed.

Hannah cringes and twists her body.  She pulls her knees up and stretches, but her expression doesn’t change.

“Not working?” I ask.

“My back hurts,” she says.

I should have thought of that.

“Roll over?”

“Yeah,” she says, “I think that will work better.”

I help Hannah get to her hands and knees, and then she crawls up to the head of the bed so I can get behind her.  I run my hands over her ass, enjoying the view.  My cock bobs up and down, as if it knows exactly what’s in front of it.  I scoot up closer, sliding it between her legs.  I look down and half expect to see a little hand reaching out.

Don’t think about it.  Don’t think about it.  Nothing is going to grab you.

I slide in slowly, wanting to be as gentle as I can.  She feels different—as if my cock is surrounded by a nest of silk pillows instead of gripped by a silk glove.  My balls tighten up, and I nearly come in her immediately.

“Oh, fuck, Hannah!  You feel so good.”

“Please,” she whispers, “more.”

Leaning over her back, I reach around and cup her tits in my hands.  They’re so much bigger now, and her nipples feel huge under my fingertips.

I love it.

I pinch them gently, rolling them and pulling on them until I feel her clench around me with every stroke.  With one arm still wrapped around her torso, I reach around her belly to her clit, slowly circling it—matching the movements of my thrusts.

“Oh, God!”  Hannah pushes back against me, and I nearly lose my balance.

I pull back and shove forward with my hips, and she arches her back against my chest.  Her breaths come in short gasps, and she digs her fingers into the blanket on the bed as she starts to shudder.

“Oh, yeah,” I moan, “that’s it!  Come on…let me feel it.”

Hannah lets out a high-pitched squeak and then a long groan as every muscle in her body tightens.  She drops her forehead to the pillow, and I pick up speed.

I can feel her walls caressing my shaft, pulling me inside of her.  There’s nothing in my head but the sensation of being inside of her and the glorious pressure all around my cock.

I give up and let go.  Waves of pleasure ripple through my body as I empty into her.  I hold myself deep inside of her for a moment, but my arms are starting to shake with the exertion of holding myself up.  I stroke in and out of her a few more times and then slowly pull out.

I flop over onto my back, eyes closed.  I can hardly move.  I haven’t even masturbated since the last time I was with her, and it almost feels like the first time.  I want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her against me, but I can’t seem to make my arms work.  I’m completely sated and in danger of passing out.

Hannah snickers, and I open my eyes to see her propped up on her elbow and staring down at me.

“Did you survive?” she asks, still giggling.

“Barely.”  I take a deep breath, but my heart is still pounding.  “I hope that was good for you because my cock might not work for another week.”

She strokes my stomach with her hand, letting her fingers outline the scar.  I manage to move my arm just enough to wrap it around her shoulders, and she places her cheek on my chest.  I close my eyes again and let the warm fog in my brain seep into me.

“Falk?”

I startle slightly at Hannah’s voice, my mind still half asleep.

“Yeah?”

“Is your sister still…still alive?”

“I don’t know.”  It isn’t a topic I’ve wanted to consider.  “She was living in California last I talked to her.  That was…I guess Christmas before all this happened.”

“Did she have a family of her own?”

“She married her girlfriend the day after gay marriage was legalized,” I say sleepily.  “Her wife had a kid from a previous relationship.  His name was Garth, I think.  I only met them once when he was about six.  My sister was happy with the whole thing, though.”

“Are…I mean, were your parents still around?”

“Not for a while now,” I tell her.  “My father passed away while I was overseas during my first tour—heart attack.  My mother passed away from cancer a couple years after that.  Both of my parents were only children, so it was just my sister and me left after that.  We’re seven years apart and were never very close.”

“Do you think about looking for her?  I mean, trying to find out if she’s still alive?”

“Not a lot.”  I turn to look at Hannah and reach out to touch the side of her face.  “I’m really only concerned about you.”

I pause in my evening patrol, lean back against the detached garage where I left the bike and cart, and light a cigarette.  I bring the smoke slowly into my lungs, savoring it before letting it loose into the night sky.  I close my eyes and take another draw.  It calms me.

The air is still warm and dry.  It’s nearly November, and I’m not the least bit chilled by the night air even though I’m only in cargo shorts and a T-shirt.  There hasn’t been any rain since the night before I found Katrina.

Tomorrow I’m going to leave Hannah behind and head to the house where the rest of the group should be.  If I’m lucky, I’ll find them, and I’ll be able to bring Hannah there before the baby is due.  If they aren’t there, hopefully they will have had time to leave me enough information to find them again.

I stare at the orange glow at the end of my cigarette as I finish it off and toss it down at my feet.  I grind the butt under my heel to make sure it’s out.  The last thing I need is a fire near the shelter.

I must have burned my retinas because the orange glow is still visible to my eyes even when the butt has been extinguished.  I blink a few times, but it doesn’t disappear.

I’m immediately alert.

Crouching slightly, I peer at the bright orange glow through the gap between the trees on the far side of the demolished house.  It’s no more than five hundred feet from the entrance to the shelter.  My muscles tighten—I haven’t seen a light like that in weeks.  I haven’t seen a light like that on the ground since I was in Iraq five years ago.

I pull the rifle from my shoulder and hold it in front of me.  Stepping slowly past the rubble and into the trees, I follow the orange glow.  Just past the trees there are two additional houses, both flattened.  Beyond that is a clearing, and in the clearing is a five-sided craft with two long, glowing shafts on either side.  The craft itself is small, likely designed for only one or two occupants, but still takes up most of the area.

In front of the craft is an eight-foot tall, bipedal creature.  Its arms and legs are rectangular with claw-like hands and feet at the ends.  The body is neckless and bulky.  It resembles the Transformers I played with as a child—the ones that shifted from a robot to a car or a truck.

I walk into the field, straight at the creature, until I stand face-to-face with the thing, my rifle raised to my shoulder.  My heart is pounding, and I feel sweat trickling down the center of my back and into my shorts.

The creature shifts, and its arms and legs come together as if it’s standing at attention.  I hear a hissing sound as it moves, and it makes me think it runs on hydraulics.  A claw-like hand rotates and the fingers open.  There’s a distinct hum, and a flickering image appears in front of the creature.  It comes into focus and solidifies before my eyes.

The image is vaguely human.  It’s tall with thin arms and legs, and the hands are misshapen with two fingers and two thumbs, mimicking the claws on the creature.  The image is devoid of clothing though there are no sexual parts displayed—no genitals, no nipples.  The image appears to have long hair, but there are no individual strands.

The face of the image though…the face is Hannah’s.

“Greetings, Falk Eckhart.”  The voice is feminine but hollow.  It’s similar to voices heard on navigation systems and smartphones.

I slide my finger over the trigger and try to see past the image, well enough to determine the most vulnerable spot on the creature behind it, as a sense of déjà vu creeps through me.

I’ve been in this exact position before.

“You have questions,” it says.

“A few, yeah.”  I can’t hide my aggressive tone.  I’m sure it doesn’t understand the concept of sarcasm anyway.

“Ask, please.”

The image’s hand rises, its palm pointing upward as the head tilts slightly to the right.  I swallow hard as I aim the rifle at the space between the creature’s head and torso.

“Your high velocity projectile weapon will not impact me.”

“That isn’t you,” I respond, nodding toward the huge metal contraption.

“You are correct,” the image says.  “My body is encased in a protective covering that provides suitable conditions to sustain my life.  Your weapon cannot penetrate this protective covering.”

“You said that the last time.”  I don’t lower the rifle.  I’ve believed this thing before, and I don’t have any reason to believe it now, assuming it is one of the three I’d encountered previously.

“I am not here to harm you, Falk Eckhart.”  I tense as it speaks again.  “You have questions, and I am willing to answer them.”

“Are you Vole?”  Images of a similar creature along with two companions fill my head.  In the dim light coming from the craft, I can’t be sure if the protective suit it wears looks exactly the same as the one I had seen or not.  There is a symbol over the front of it that resembles an atom, and I remember seeing the same symbol before.  The first time, they were in the desert near the border between Saudi Arabia and Iraq.

“I am.”

“The image you’re projecting is different.”

“The image locks onto your psyche,” Vole says.  “At the time, the person in the forefront of your mind was a young man under your command, one who had been killed in an attack shortly before our encounter.  Now, your focus is on your mate.”

I narrow my eyes at Vole’s choice of words but don’t argue the semantics.

“You lied to me,” I say.  “You said you were going to pass us by.”

“My exact words were, ‘I see no benefit in further observation or interaction with your species,’” Vole says.  “That is the information I conveyed to my superiors.”

I’m frustrated by the inability to see the creature’s face—observe its expressions, assuming I could understand them at all.  Not knowing what it really looks like unnerves me.  I want to know the face of my enemy.

“You said we weren’t ideally suited for your needs,” I say, not wanting to waste any time with this thing, “but you took the women and children.  Why?”

“We were in need of vast labor forces,” it says.  “It was determined that the females and offspring of your species best fit those needs.  They were deemed more likely to cooperate than human males.  Your species is not ideal, and I did not see any benefit to its use, but we had deadlines to meet.”

“Deadlines?”

“Our supplies were running low.  There wasn’t adequate time to locate another population.”

“Where are they now?”

“Relocated.”

“Relocated where?”

“The population was divided into three parts,” the image says.  “The first was sent to a Sulphur-rich satellite around one of your outer gaseous planets.  The other two were directed to similar environments in other star systems.”

I remember a book I had as a child, depicting various parts of the solar system—the sun, the planets, and the moons surrounding those planets.  There was an artist’s representation of the sulfur snow on Io, one of the moons of Jupiter or Saturn—I can’t remember which.  I have no idea why they want or need sulfur, and I don’t care at this point.

“Why kill the men?  You could have taken the women and children without harming the men.”

“To create chaos,” Vole responds.  “The resulting turmoil will maximize the efforts your species would need to achieve to respond to the invasion.  By the time you have reorganized into a civilized society again, we will be untraceable.”

“What about the animals?”

“Sustenance for the workforce,” Vole says.  “We have found that labor forces are more productive when supplied with a familiar food source.”

“What about the pets?”

There’s a pause before the image responds.

“What is ‘pets’?”

“The dogs and cats,” I say.

“Sustenance for the workforce,” Vole repeats.

My stomach flips over as I understand the creature’s meaning.  I decide not to ask any more questions about that particular topic.

“You didn’t tell us that any of this was a possibility when we spoke the last time,” I say.  “You said you were looking for resources, not slave labor.”

“We had no wish for conflict at that time,” Vole says.  “I was not aware of the proposed strategy behind the collection of the labor force.  If it is any consolation to you, I voted against the destruction of the males.  My research determined that your technology was too far behind our own to develop the necessary means to transport outside your own solar system.  By the time you would develop such technology, we would have moved far beyond your reach.  However, my colleagues voted against my alternative plan.”

“Yeah, I feel much better about it all now.”

“I’m pleased you understand.”

No doubt—sarcasm is lost on it.

“What about the climate changes?” I ask.  “No rain, high temperatures.  It should be at least fifteen degrees colder now than it is.”

“I’m afraid the extraction process had some unforeseen effects on the atmosphere,” Vole says.  “I’ve corrected for the problem, and it should not occur again.  Eventually, the atmosphere should return to its previous condition.”

“Eventually?”

“I would estimate between thirty and forty years.  The damage was minimal.”

“Minimal!”  I snort and shake my head.  “So, are you here to kill off the rest of us?”

There is a pause before the image responds.

“No, Falk Eckhart.  I am a researcher –a scientist, not a soldier.  I am merely taking my final readings of the progress of your society before I return.”

“And what have you found?”

“Your culture has behaved within the statistical deviations of my research,” it tells me.  “You have formed factions that now war against each other.  It will be decades before you recover enough to begin advancing your technology again.  I am about to transmit my final report.  Earth is deemed of no further use to us and not a threat.”

“You’re leaving, then?  All of you?”

“The military forces left the surface nine days ago,” it says.  “They are in orbit now but will evacuate when my report is complete.  They have no reason to return.”

“So, you won’t be coming back.”

“There is no reason to do so.”

“You’re just going to leave us like this.”

“You will rebuild in time.”  The head of the image tilts to the left.  “It may not be in your estimated lifetime, but eventually.  Already you begin to reproduce.”

I narrow my eyes.  It says the words as if Hannah is prepared to have this baby—as if she really wants it or would have let her pregnancy get this far if she’d had a choice.  Everything Hannah has been through is directly the result of me not giving the order to attack these things when we first saw them.  Maybe we wouldn’t have been successful.  Maybe they would have annihilated us in a second.  They could have also then decided we weren’t worth the effort, and Hannah would be fine.

Fuck this thing.

I pull back on the trigger and hear the blast followed by a sharp, metallic twang.

Vole doesn’t move.

“Has your curiosity been satisfied?” it asks.

“Fuck you.”  I lower the rifle and take a step backward.  I’m not surprised by the lack of effect, but it would have been nice if it had just fallen backward or something.  I take a deep breath and then shout at it.  “If you’re done, then go on!  Get out!  I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”

“I don’t understand your animosity, Falk Eckhart.  Are you not better off than you were before?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?  In what way am I better off?”

“You were alone,” it says.  “You now have a companion—a function.  You protect and provide for her, and you will protect and provide for her offspring.  Your life has direction.”

I can’t respond.  The creature’s words hit far too close to home.  I’ve thought the same thing myself—more than once.  I had no purpose in my life before, and now I have one.  I have Hannah, and I have the need to keep her safe.  It gives my existence meaning.

If none of this had happened, I would have escorted her to Washington.  She would have testified and hopefully put those bastards on death row for what they had done.  Afterward, I never would have seen her again.

“A pretty high cost for the sake of my happiness,” I mumble.

“But a benefit, still,” Vole says.  “Do you have any further questions?”

“No.”  I would have to be able to wrap my head around what I’ve heard before I could ask anything else.

“Then I shall take my leave.”

I give the thing one last stare, toss my rifle back over my shoulder, and then turn on my heel to head back into the trees.

“Falk Eckhart.”

“What?”  I turn and glare at the image and the creature behind it.

“The child in the female’s body is constructed of your DNA.”

I tense, and I can’t take in a breath.  Part of me thinks Vole is just saying what I want to hear, but there’s no reason for a lie.  I hadn’t asked the question; it hadn’t even occurred to me.

“How do you know?”

“I analyzed the scan of the female’s incubated offspring when preparing the projected image.”