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REMI
I’m so shocked, I nearly throw the receiver. There’s no way—no fucking way—he just said what I think he did.
But as much as I’d like to believe that, now’s not the time to be naïve. As far as I know, most of the world is dead, and men are more likely to survive in these types of situations because women are often mothers, caring for children, and your chances of survival shrink drastically with crying, sobbing, terrified kids.
Of course they’re looking for something to fuck.
Gage: You with me, Remi?
My hand shakes violently as I try to form the words to say, ‘Fuck off.’ It’s a strange loss of control because it’s almost comforting. I’m not avoiding the situation. I can’t address it. I can’t do anything other than gawk at the wall.
What kind of man would demand sex from a woman in exchange for basic human decency?
So many men…
Shit, not only have I lost control of my body but my mind as well. Not that I can deny its accuracy. Since the dawn of time, sex has been transactional. I suppose in the more modern era; it is less so, but when things are raw and primal, women have always fucked for food and protection.
I can’t believe I’m telling myself this. History has had countless women hunters, and I could be one of them. I could be a Valkyrie.
Except you’ve just spent the last sixty-plus days hiding in a closet.
I’m no Xena. I’m no Princess Leia. I’m a sheep.
Almost as suddenly as the shock washed over me, understanding sets in. If I don’t agree to Gage’s terms, I will die.
Gage: Have I lost you?
Remi:No.
Gage: Good.
A million questions swirl through my mind, but one seems more important than the rest.
Remi:Will you hurt me?
Gage: Physically? No. Or at least not any more than I have to. I’m not what you would call kind, but into torturing people that don’t deserve it.
Remi:Is it just you? Or will there be others…
Gage: I’m in a group, but you will belong to me. The others won’t touch you. I’d kill them if they tried.
Remi:Like property? I’ll be your property?
Gage: That’s a good word for it.
Strangely, I’m not offended. He’s being direct, to-the-point, which is weird because he doesn’t have to be. He could just as easily lie to me. He knows I’m desperate.
Remi:Why are you even telling me your terms at all? Couldn’t you just meet me somewhere and game over this shit?
He snorts through the receiver.
Gage: First of all, if you think sex is game over—you’re wrong. All men love it; some women do. And if you don’t take me up on my offer, someone else will. It’s a good fucking deal and I know what I have. I don’t have to rape someone, and I don’t particularly want to. It’s just not my thing. You’ll be an escape, not a burden.
Remi:You make yourself sound almost noble.
Gage: If you’d like to think otherwise, you can believe that I enjoy this game of cat and mouse. Toying with you. Building your anticipation toward the inevitable you’re so fearful of.
I almost crave yesterday, when the biggest worry I had was finding food. The bombs entering my life were a major blow, but the sex…I don’t even know how to feel about it. It came out of nowhere, though admittedly I should have realized it would be a new form of currency.
