Mutant

I wake sometime in the early hours of the morning. It is still dark out. It is very quiet, even the insects were silent now. The hum in my ears had abated even more though the pain across my right side still lit my senses on fire. Especially my arm. I hear the woman's soft breathing beside me...close beside me. I realize that she had moved right up against me, pressed into me. It was her pressure on my arm that made it hurt so bad. While I couldn't move much I could shift away from her a bit. But I don't. I endure the pain.

I am surprisingly warm given the coolness of the air on my face and feet. I lay there listening to her breathe. Feeling her against me. Her hand was on my shoulder. Her warm...very warm...downright hot little hand.

I look over toward her curiously despite the fact it was perfectly dark. I crane my neck to get my face as close to her as I could. She shifts a little, disturbed by my movement, but soon settles down again. Actually sidling even closer to me which sends a fresh explosion of pain through my arm. I grit my teeth and ignore it. As my chin gets close to her sleeping face I can feel the heat emanating off of her. Far warmer than what would be considered normal. I could feel from her hand that it wasn't a clammy fever heat. Her body was just really hot, unnaturally so. She had touched me yesterday and I hadn't noticed it. Maybe this was something that only happened when she slept.

I lay my head back down. So...she was a mutant as well. Did she even know? The way she spoke it seemed like she considered herself a pure blood. Was she in denial? At least I knew why she was out here now. The colonies were fanatical about keeping their populations pure of mutation. There was no trial or deliberation. Mutants were banished to the Wastes. Period. This was a **** sentence for most. Given her looks she had probably been able to hide her secret for a long time. Obviously her luck had run out.

She sighs softly, her ultra warm breath caressing the base of my neck. I wished I could move. I felt a strong urge to hold her with my good arm. To feel her hot flesh in my hand. As with many of the things I have been experiencing lately this was a new feeling. I had lain with women plenty of times before, mostly trash town whores or occasionally scrubland settler women trading their body so that their husbands and children wouldn't be killed or their farms torched. Those had been simple transactions to get my rocks off. This was different. More intimate. I liked how she pressed into me, how her light hand rested on my shoulder. I liked the sound of her light breathing and the feeling of her heat on my skin. Yes, I had a sexual desire for her. But it was so much more than that. Right now...I just wanted to hold her.

Craning my neck once more I strain and reach out. I push past the pain and I gently kiss her head. Her short disheveled hair was impossibly soft against my lips. I feel the heat of her brow against my chin. I lie back again and relax.

I lie awake listening to her breathe and watching the glow of morning as it very gradually begins to light the walls of the shelter. I start making out details in our green little sanctuary.

I feel my bed mate cooling, her hand coming back down to a more normal human temperature, and soon after I hear her begin to rouse. A light moan and a smacking of her lips as she wets her dry mouth. I feel her start, pulling away from me suddenly as she realizes where she was. I lay still and pretend to be asleep. I feel as she rolls out from under the blanket. I hear her take a drink of water. I open my eyes and turn my head to watch her. Her back was to me. She straightens her shirt and runs her hands through her hair. She turns to check on me and sees I'm awake.

She clears her throat. “Okay...lots to do. Lots to do. Let me check on you.” She looks around the floor and eventually finds her knife. She holds it out to me as she approaches. She wanted to remind me that I was still at her mercy. I understood. Before she checks my injuries she leans over me to make sure my good side is still bound tightly, which it was. It was nice having her bent over me so close. I lay still to let her do her thing.

As she pulls the blanket back from me I shiver as the cool morning air washes over my body. She gently touches me here and there, taking a close look at my arm and my side. She seems satisfied with what she saw. “You have big muscles. You must need to eat a lot.” She observes. “I'll do my best.” Moving down to my ankle she begins pinching and prodding my ankle, pushing on it from various angles. I hiss in pain. “I don't think anything's broken.” She informs me. She then turns and drapes the blanket back over my exposed body.

I could tell she was getting ready to leave. I croak a hoarse sound. “Waaaaa...waaaaaa...”

I look over toward the almost empty water bottle. My throat was on fire. Without a word she pours the remainder into my mouth. I lap it up desperately. It was cold from the cool night, it felt wonderful. I try to thank her. “Thhaaaa...”

“Shut up Filth.” She says. She lays her small hand across my forehead, checking for fever once more and...she smiles. It lasts but a second but I saw it. Taking her knife, her new multi-tool, and the glass bottle she gets up and cautiously approaches the exit flap. Carefully she peeks outside. After a long moment of her peering around she hunches down and makes her way out.

I listen as she moves around outside for a time. Before long I cannot hear her at all.

I take a long deep breath. I am feeling a lot better than last night. With some effort and a whole lot of pain I find that I can move my injured arm and leg a little. Not much, but it was something. It was a miracle I'd gotten out of that battle and endured the fall as well as I had. I might be mutant filth according to this woman, but being a tough ass Orc had its advantages.

The longer I lay there the less I like being bound helpless. If anything found me I would have no hope of defending myself. I turn my focus on my bound left side. I pull and flex and twist. I have to admit that she had done a good job at tying me, but with nothing else to do I eventually begin to make some progress.

It is well over an hour later when I hear the light tread of something approaching the shelter. I tense up. I couldn't escape yet and could only hope for the best. I am relieved as I hear the woman say in a soft voice. “Filth. It's me.”

She ducks in under the flap. The bottle in her hands once more full of water. She grimaces. “Ugh, it is ripe in here. Smells like Orc.” She puts the water down and heads back outside. I can see her shadow cast across the tarp as she moves around and begins picking up the rocks and such that held the outer edge to the ground. After she does this she begins peeling the green walls up and back, giving me a view of the outside. I see the area where I first saw this girl, the same area she had been ****. I see the length of iron bar she had held over me stabbed into the ground about twenty feet away. I am reminded again that I still lay in the exact spot I landed.

A gust of fresh breeze comes through, mercifully pushing out the stale stuffy air of the tent. It was wonderfully refreshing. She props up the edge with an aluminum pole she had found making it so the shelter now stood open on one end.

I could see she was in good spirits as she entered once more. “It is so nice out today. I think it will be hot later.” From what I could see and feel I had to agree. She comes to squat down beside me. She sets her knife off to the side then sort of duck walks over to me. She doesn't check my bonds, her knife is just out of arms reach. She is getting sloppy, complacent. She really shouldn't trust me this much now that I was regaining some of my strength.

She pulls something from her pocket. “I was able to find my buttons.” She plops down heavily on her butt. I was happy to see the her discomfort and tenderness from Blitz's rough attentions seemed to have abated. She turns and pulls a needle and a zig zaggy length of scavenged thread from her pack. She sets them all out on the top flap of the pack. She begins her one sided conversation again. “My mother taught me to sew. She was real good, worked so fast. She always used to say: Sew much work, sew little time. Isn't that a silly thing to say? I guess people say silly things all the time.” She turns so that she sat with her back to me, she sits very close. Mere inches from my hand.

She pulls off the one good strap of the overalls then peels off her plaid shirt. She was now naked from the waist up. Her smooth exposed back just a couple feet away from me. I can see her shoulders and back tapers to a slender waist. She was thin, I could just make out the shape of her ribs, but she wasn't emaciated. She didn't have a mark on her. Not a scar, not a burn, not a scratch. I thought there would at least be some bruising from yesterday, but no. Her copper body was flawless.

As she sews the buttons back on her shirt with a deft hand she continues. “The crows and blood birds are all over the place up where you fought yesterday. I might see if I can get close enough just to get us a weapon.” I didn't like the sound of that. Blood birds, while generally satisfied with carrion, have been known to go after **** looking creatures. And this woman definitely fit that bill. There were likely gore rats and potentially worse creatures up there as well. It was a hell of a risk, though...a gun sure would be good to have. Living in the Wastes without a weapon was a **** wish waiting to be granted.

“I'll need a lot more thread if I'm going to make you something. Some decent fabric too. You might have to settle for a poncho or like a simple dress.” She laughs. “Ha! Could you imagine? You in a dress! I'd make a yellow dress to match your eyes. Ha ha ha! I've never seen an Orc in a dress. He he he. That's funny. But...who knows, maybe I'll find you some proper clothes. I should be able to. I haven't looked much that way yet.” She nods in a direction. “Yellow is actually my favorite color you know. Not piss yellow like your eyes. A nice daffodil yellow. Daffodils used to be flowers from back...” And so it went.

She sat and talked as she did and sewing her buttons. She began rocking forward and back again. Occasionally she would shift a little closer to me. I lay and listen, savoring her every word. I was enjoying her company far more than I ought to. If this was anyone else her inane chatter might have been annoying, but she wasn't anyone else. Her melodic voice was anything but annoying.

I continue to look over her bare flesh as she spoke. I marvel once again. Such a fine girl all alone in this grim dusty world. I would wager that she had to stay on her guard even when visiting the trash towns. Slavery was not uncommon and any of the brothels would make her their star girl in the blink of an eye. She was so beautiful. So...very beautiful. I ignore the pain and slowly raise my injured bandaged hand. I reach out and gently stroke the soft curve of her back.

She startles and jolts away from me. She scrambles for her knife. Spinning around she holds it out toward me in both hands. I'm not seeing the knife however. I see her lithe arms, her tight smooth stomach, her small pouting breasts.

“Don't touch me Filth!” She spits that last word at me. “Stop looking at me!”

I carefully put my arm back down again. I shift my eyes to look just off to her side. It is quiet for a time. She finally lowers the knife. She sits back down and finishes her last button and puts on her shirt. As she pulls the strap of her pants over her shoulder she says without looking at me directly. “I named you Filth so I would always remember what you are. So that I would remember what your brother did to me. Don't ever touch me again mutant.”

With that she grabs a few small supplies and heads out of the shelter. I watch as she moves the broken bucket, which seemed to be full of water, into the sun. Then she disappears out of sight.

I lay in silence. I miss her already.