Date: Fri, 13 Nov 2020 13:34:49 -0500
From: MC VT
Subject: After the Rush

After the Rush
©MCVT2017 May 17, 2019

A carousel of terror begins turning in the lives of a boy and man.  Will
they take a ride or move past the brightly colored enticements?  Futuristic
tale of survival through hardship and lies.

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=====================================================================

Missed Dad, my whole body ached for him.  Life, freedom to live as we
chose, love as we wanted was nothing without him.

...

Heard it coming, never thought it would be so loud, last so long—five
days so far.  From far across the plain, a distant roar, recognized a few
notes of the anthem, rhythmic chants.  Cymbals and drums, pipers, and
creaky wagons.  Nearer, louder every day.  Horses pounding the earth ahead
of them, cloud of dust behind the stream of worshippers.

The next ultimate ruler, their Chosen One sent them forward.  Peasants
joining from the outlying villages.  I lived on the side of the valley,
watching as they amassed and crossed the flatlands.  Spotted the bonfires
those nights.  Several thousand souls, at least, trouping along behind the
infantry.

This Chosen One said he protected his people; "I am your loving father."
Food, clean water, warm homes—he cared more about them than their own
mothers he repeated.

People cried, fell on their faces, knelt, worshipped him, chaunted his
name.

Not me.

Not Solomon.  Certainly not the Zoners.

...

This new chieftain could say anything after decades of scratching the
cracked earth as we'd done.  Fired only by hope of better lives, his rabble
followed him.  Fueled only by hope.  Worshipped him to turn away from their
dismal existence and dream of his promises.  Of course, his promises were
dressed in finery.  This leader seemed particularly extravagant, the
pennants, the bright military uniforms and the horses with feathered
headdresses.

My suspicion increased as they neared.  Sol warned me about this kind of
show.  It usually meant more problems, another new program.  New programs
were futile – earth was dying, only enough left for two or three more
generations, if that.  Life would probably get worse under this one.
Existence was reliably more miserable after each regime.

Red sun at dawn brought another hot day – skies were clear, winds were
strong.  I watched from the doorway of my hovel before I scraped a few
roots I'd found foraging.  Focused the sun through a thick shard of broken
glass at my cup of water to warm it.  Watched the hoard milling around
busily in the valley below.

...

This Chosen One thought a lot of himself.  Incredibly slick, glib, and so
pretty.  Yes, pretty like a woman.  Wore white robes trimmed in gold, even
had gold-trimmed slippers.  Clean, slender hands that smelled of roses,
they said.  Thick hair in long, corkscrew orange-golden curls; a blue-eyed
devil, he was.  Posted pictures of himself everywhere, millions of cheap
copies each with a carefully chosen lie in fancy script beneath.  A few
blew into the valley, I showed Sol, my dad's friend.

The photos on the flyers were of the Chosen One touching his people, the
horde he ruled.  Strange but endearing habit, touching their scabby,
louse-ridden heads in blessing.

...

That afternoon, the crowd settled in the lowest part of the valley, built a
bonfire in the center of their encampment aside the river.  I smelled bread
baking.  Bread; I was hungry but wondered what kind of bread.  Suspicion is
self-preservation.

Sharp sounds toward the horizon – horns blasted.  Heralded coming, the
Chose One arrived.  Trumpeters blared; guards stood in two rows lining a
passageway.  A stream of white horses, a litter and more horses with
guards.  They made their way to the river as the throng parted ahead of
him.  Set up a big sanctuary tent for him and he was carefully deposited
like a rare jewel in a safe.  Armed guards ringed the tent.

Had to wonder about his security, this seemed like a feeding—a picnic,
some kind of celebration.  People only carried a few tools, little else.
What were they doing?

...

Went out to forage more roots, keeping an eye on the doings.  The crowd was
calm, marking out their places for the night.  Were they having a festival?
Seems like the plains would be better...  Then I stopped.  I felt a
rumbling under my feet.  Earthquake?  Trees trembled around me.  Rocks
shook, I fell to my knees, then it stopped.

Went back to my shed to watch.  Peasants looked like bees, the poor wore
brown and gray.  They hustled about their new queen's tent with the hope of
a touch, maybe a droplet of his honeyed presence.  He fed them.

More wagonloads of peasants meandered in during the evening, the aged and
disabled.  This was going to be a monumental fete.  Still wondered why he
didn't hold this circus elsewhere—most of the flat land in our valley
was taken by the horde.  They were packed in tightly.

...

Inside my tiny shack that night, I put the planks in front of the opening
and cross-barred it.  On my bed of pine needles, hearing the hum of the
masses quieting for the night, tried to sleep.  Darkness sliced by rays
from a full moon in the slender opening between the thatch; lit me and my
space bright as day.  Decided to move higher up on the mountain tomorrow in
case trouble broke out below.  That crowd would be trapped if the soldiers
suddenly turned on them.  Perfect place to hold a siege.

Wondered if he would...  Probably not.  The Chosen One would lose his tax
base, paltry as it was.

Sol might know what this was about.  He had a monocular.

...

Far-off clattering woke me before dawn.  Water and chewing on a few roots,
I was still hungry.  Set off to Sol's hut, sneaking behind the
outcroppings.  Turned around to survey the valley.  I could hear music and
singing, smelled meat cooking and more bread.  My body snarled for food.

As I turned back to the trail, I saw movement in the scrub.
Stopped—froze.  Hadn't seen a deer or mountain goat during my life,
could be a skunk or a rat.  Waited.

Something glinted in the low brush – an exotic, wounded bird?  Didn't
move.

Few more moments another stirring and another glimmer.  Stepping forward
silently, I looked closer.  It had to be something small and it seemed as
scared of me as I was of it—silent standoff.

Lunged fast, as fast as I could; pounced, hoping whatever it was would
either run off or I'd get my blade into it.  Grabbed at the yellow fur to
pull it up.  One swift thrust in the gut would give Sol and me stew.

I immediately let go and stepped back.  The soft, golden hair was attached
to a child.  Don't know who was more surprised, both our eyes open wide,
staring at each other.  Hadn't seen a child since before I came here with
Dad.

It looked at me like I was an animal, and I did appear feral – but a
feral man with a knife.  The child wore a collar – gold with jewels and
a small white loincloth folded and tucked neatly around narrow hips.  I
grabbed the collar and pulled him out of the bushes.

"Who are you?  Why are you here?"

"Let go.  I won't go back."  He had a serious gaze and glanced at my knife,
"Kill me first—I won't go down there."

"What's your name?"

"Sixty."

"Your real name, joker."

"Sixty-Eight."  He said it so confidently, must be his name.  Shoving him
toward the trail, we left to Sol's shed at a trot.

...

Strange catch this morning.  Not reduced to cannibalism yet.  Not yet, and
his body didn't have any fat on it.  Dry meal.  He was filled-out perfectly
for being, well, I suspected around nine or ten.

Gave a sharp whistle to rouse Sol from the behind his shed.  As soon as he
saw Sixty-Eight, he grabbed the boy's shoulder, "Where's your tracker?"

The boy pointed to his collar; eyes wide, frightened.  Sol examined the
collar and got a tool telling me he'd been watching the gathering in the
valley.  He fiddled with the tiny clasp, finally pulled it apart.  He threw
the jeweled collar at me, "Take it up to the ridge and throw it in the
gorge.  Run, don't stop till you're rid of it.  They'll think he fell down
the cliff and died.  Hurry, if they find him, they'll find us."

Grabbed the collar and ran.  Didn't stop till I was up top of the ridge.
As I hit the highest point, I looked into the gorge.  The tremor yesterday
was explained – whatever this was filling the gorge probably caused the
shaking.  Huge, silvery ovoid ship with several odd protrusions.  I'd heard
rumors years ago, dismissed them as hoaxes, myths but it seemed we had been
invaded by, well, I don't know what.

With all the strength I had, I heaved the collar off the ridge and toward
the gigantic ship and ran back to Sol's.

Sol worked in the courts several regimes, earned his keep documenting their
histories but ran to the hills when they took his work to for the `discrete
delight' program in a failed nutritional campaign.  Never understood that,
but he said it was terrifying.  Lost his family, everything, and came to
live here with my dad and me.  Sol knew the ways of regimes and hated them.

...

Came back to find the boy sitting on Sol's lap, with his arms around the
old man's neck. "Sixty-Eight is the Chosen One's son.  Take him down the
mole hole at your place.  Stay there till I come for you.  Hurry.  They've
probably sent a scout party for him."

"There's a huge metal ship, maybe a plane without wings in the canyon –
no wheels I could see."

"You know what it is, Sixty?"  Sol whispered to the boy.

"Transport.  They're taking everyone to their new home past the sun."

"Why?"

"Work.  The Chosen One sold everyone to the mining company."

"Is it a good place?"  Sol kept his voice low and soft – I was appalled.

"Work till they die."  That was all the boy said as he grabbed the last bit
of rodent jerky, took a sip of water, "What's a `mo-ho?'"

"You'll see."  We ran back to my hovel staying hidden along the way.

Ran back to my place, grabbed my bedding, rolled it up, opened the hatch,
tossed it in.  "There's a ladder, go ahead, it's like a cave."  I set up my
system to knock my make-shift door over and cover the floor with dirt and
leaves making my shack appear deserted after we sealed ourselves
underground.

...

Found the reason he was called Sixty-Eight was that he carried sixty-eight
percent the Chosen One's DNA.  The beloved leader fell thirty-two percent
shy of his perfect clone.

Sixty-Eight had a sister, she was called Seventy-Three.  Because she was
closer to perfect replication, her body would be used to up the royal
percentage by bearing her father a child.  He wanted a replica of himself,
but it wasn't working out like the labs touted.  Probably a turncoat among
the scientists.

"She's not the Chosen Daughter anymore."  Sixty-Eight admitted.  "I put
magnets under her pillow and taped her belly.  She hated when Dad mated
her.  She cried."

"Did you kill her?"

"No.  I used radium tape over her girl parts and damaged her eggs.  The
magnets corrupted her programming.  She's a regular girl now and won't obey
him anymore, always backtalking.  Made him angry.  Seventy and I said we
didn't know what happened.  It was hard to lie."  He stopped for a moment,
"Seventy-Three's leaving for the mines, the guards caught her trying to
escape with me."

"The Chosen One was going to send you to the mines?"

"We were no good to his plans anymore.  He was going to make Seventy and me
lead everyone into the ship – he'd get more money for us and people
would trust children leading them."

I nodded with a clearer understanding of what was going on in the imperial
household.  This Chosen One was as slimy as the last but this guy was cold.
Selling the entire population and his children?

"You still programmed?  Gonna rat us out?"

"My friend in the lab altered my programming to be a boy, gave me a navel.
Taught me to reason and told me to escape.  Yakub loved me, but he's gone
now."

Ah, there were decent people left...  "Got any special powers?"  I asked
sarcastically.

"Sure.  I can tell when the guards are near.  I don't know all my powers
until I feel them happen."

...

We jumped down the mole hole, lay down, listening.  On the thin strip of
dry foliage, our bodies cooled quickly.  Chilly at two meters underground,
we started shivering.  Sixty-Eight cuddled next to me.  In the cold air, I
pulled him against me like my father had done.

My penis began filling – strange sensation.  Hadn't felt that in a long
time; survival gave pleasure a low priority.

Through the years I'd visited Sol a few times, we mated like Dad and I did
and found relief, a moment of comfort.  Mostly, it was a bandage for our
loneliness.  Sex and mating were occasional pastimes when I was a kid,
nothing about that mattered anymore.  My dad said it was something in the
ecosystem.  Humans no longer reproduced the old way, sex and love were
superseded by constant hunger and exhaustion scavenging for decades.
Regimes controlled the population in covert ways, depending on cloning to
avoid any extra expense of sheltering the miserable souls they ruled, to
avoid discontent and uprising.  Always enough people to keep the royal
coffers filled though.

Sol and I heard there were outliers who birthed babies from between women's
legs, but they were only whispered stories.  We suspected the Zoners
birthed that way.

...

Laying still in the dark, small, space dozing when I felt Sixty-Eight
tapping on my chest.  One, two, three, four.  Stop.  Then, four taps again.

Soon, we heard clattering and footsteps on the trail nearby.  Fear-sweat
oozed from every pore, we listened.  Eyelashes fluttered on my side.
Slowly, I drew him close feeling his damp skin.  My hand went to his head
and I pressed his face into my side.  Soft skin, soft hair almost couldn't
feel them with my calloused palms.

The son of the Chosen One going to be sold - sold like a slave to a mining
company in another galaxy?  I had to wonder if the Chosen One was human
– this was a beautiful boy.  But if the Chosen One wasn't human, what
was this boy named Sixty-Eight?

A few clods of dirt fell from above us as the scouts searched.  Heavy
footsteps overhead, heard them throw my few things around, cursing, calling
for Sixty.  I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes.  With my hand,
I covered the boy's eyes as pebbles continued falling.

...

We drank sips of water, and sucked on a few dried roots.  Didn't say
anything.  Sometimes he would touch me – I think he sensed someone
coming nearby.  We dozed on and off—had no idea how long it took us to
become accustomed to the cold.

If we hadn't been so quiet and still, we wouldn't have felt it coming.  A
small vibration began in the earth around us.  It strengthened and the dirt
fell again.  Whatever was making the vibration was coming closer and hit
its peak, and continued buzzing.

I sat up and started up the branch ladder.  Sixty pulled me back, "It's the
rush.  They're rushing to leave, don't go!"

Suddenly I understood why they came to the valley.

A bitter stench leaked into the mole hole.  Quickly, feeling around for his
loincloth, I tugged it off him and grabbed the water – ripped the cloth
in half and tied one half snugly around his head making sure to cover his
eyes, nose and mouth, then tied the other half around my face.  Dousing the
cloths in water, I pulled him under the blanket and held the wet fabric
against our faces.  It smelled like ether at first, sharp and bitter.  Then
a sickly-sweet chemical smell came heavily.  Filtering the stench through
the wet fabric would help, though we began relaxing we never slept.

Fluid hallucinations came: broad expanses of land, in the sun.  Warm,
welcoming fields full of grain and trees heavy with fruit.  Sweet air,
clear skies.  For some reason I felt an urge to go to the valley – what
incredible visions; so real.  I wanted, no, I craved those halcyon dreams
in my imagination.  Forgot about everything else around me.  Tears came, I
began sobbing—relief, I wanted that relief and it was so strong I moved
around to leave.

As I sat up, Sixty turned and sat on my chest, threw water over the rag on
my face.  "Those aren't your dreams—they're his dreams.  He chose them
for everyone."

After a few more breaths of water-filtered air, I realized I was drunk.
Stoned on the gas.  Hallucinations kept coming.  My mind told me I had to
leave.  My instincts and the boy's words stilled me.  Everyone in the
valley was hallucinating as well; they were being drawn to their new home
in the mines.  Enticed into slavery through drugs they couldn't avoid
breathing.  Damn evil plan; no force needed.  The Chosen One lured them
toward their leg irons and chains chemically.

The buzzing continued around us.

I was hit with a hard case of mole hole fever.  Started tensing and
relaxing my muscles.  Sixty was fidgeting as well, but we had to wait for
Sol.  We had to stay hidden until the loading was finished and the air was
clear.

Sol was a tough old lizard, he said he'd come when it was safe.  I trusted
he would.

...

Aside me, the boy's hand went to his groin, his tiny rod was hard.  He was
rubbing himself, then grabbed me around my waist and humped the side of my
thigh.  Slipping my hand to his rod, I pushed him back a little and began
exploring his body with my fingers.  I turned slightly for a better
position.  His whole kit fit in my hand, so small.  He sighed several times
and didn't pull away, so I continued, rubbing along his short torso, narrow
chest.  Nipples so soft and small I could barely find them.  Had to stop
for a moment when I felt his lips kiss my chest.  Sensual.  A tiny body was
arousing my senses – the feel of him and his responses, his body's shape
and warmth.  I was hard and felt moisture dripping down my pole.

The more interaction we had, the more the hallucinations faded – I
focused on our bodies, our touches.

Whispering low, "Put your cock by mine.  I'll show you how my Dad loved
me."  Lining up our cocks to rub shafts together, Sixty lay directly on top
of me, his head at my collarbone.  His soft palms grabbed my shoulders.
Opening his legs, I grabbed a butt cheek in each hand and pulled his cleft
open, feeling for his hole.  His hands came to my face, stroking along my
scraggly beard, he sighed.  Giving him a nudge, I moved his butt to make
his dick stroke mine and lifted my hips a few times.  Left hand feeling
between his legs and the bottom of his ball sac, I lifted my scrotum to rub
it against his tender skin as my other hand stroked lightly along his
cleft.

Blanking my mind, I allowed every nerve ending in my body to revel where
his skin touched mine.  He scooted around; I pressed his butt harder
against my groin.  He was so warm, it caused me to shudder, this incredible
fullness he brought inside me was foreign, anchored me to earth of the
valley.

For a split second I considered that I might be rubbing a bionic mass, not
another human, but that thought was interrupted by a powerful blast of cum,
then another, and another.  Pressing his back, keeping him as close as I
could, the heat of my liquid oozed between us.  He breathed deeply and his
body trembled.  We were still, then from our complete darkness, through his
head wrap, "Your dad loved you?"

"Dad's love their sons deeply."  Then I remembered his Chosen Father.
"Didn't your dad love you?"

"Tell me how your dad loved you."  He whispered.

Took a while to recall the kindnesses, lessons, playfulness and close, warm
nights.  I whispered memories that were burned in my heart.  I loved my dad
from every cell in my body.  For years it was only him and me and
occasionally Sol.  We built our hovels near each other and we scrounged,
scrapped and shared for the minimal life we lived.  "Dad and I loved each
other.  He said our love kept us human. How did your dad love you, Sixty?"

"Yakub loved me.  He read Gibran to me."

"Gibran."  Didn't know who that was.  "What did Gibran say?"

"Love is precious."

"It is."  As I pressed him against my chest, tears flowed for my dad.
Damn, I wished he was still with me.  Our conversation made me wonder,
"Sixty, are you a real human boy?  I mean completely human?"

He didn't answer for a long time, thinking.  "I think so.  Are you a real
human man?"

"What?  Of course, that's why my dad brought me out here.  Do you think I'm
part robot or something?"

"I was wondering if you were part animal."

"Not yet."


After the Rush Part 2

I thought my mole hole would become our grave.  Carefully, slowly I lifted
the fabric from my face – not much of the smell was left.  I wet my
hands and wiped my face, and took a corner of the blanket, dampened and
wiped Sixty's face.  How long had we been down here?  Both of our heads
moved to listen closely as we heard a tapping, but it was far.  Thought I
could hear shuffling and stayed still.  Sixty didn't seem disturbed.

He moved around felt along the dirt.  Then he placed several cold plastic
squares on my belly.  "What's this?"

"Yakub gave me seeds, he said they would save me if I escaped.  They fell
out when you pulled my cloth off."  Only three small envelopes, I could
feel the lumps of seeds through the plastic film.

"What are they?"

"I don't know, but he said to be careful, these are all that are left."

...

We sat still, hearing more sounds above us.  Sixty couldn't sense guards,
maybe this was Sol coming for us.  Whomever was making the noises circled
my hut several times.  I heard them in the brush, they meandered close by.
I kissed the cheek of the boy sitting him between my legs.

I heard Sol give me three soft whistles and one hard knock on the covering
to the mole hole, then we were blinded by a shaft of sunlight.  Sixty
crawled to the ladder and grasped the hand extended downward, "You two
okay?"

I rolled over and crawled to the ladder, held it as Sixty climbed out.

"Sorry to leave you so long.  Had to circle the valley to make sure
everyone was gone."  Sol was smiling.

Sol used his old gas mask and monocular to watch the silvery ship hover
over the valley.  A gas dispersed in colored streamers winding out the
ship's door when it opened. The hoard looked up and lifted their hands,
clambering to enter the craft chanting and singing.

"They couldn't get up the ramp fast enough.  Most of the guards went as
well, took their horses too.  Then, the ship closed and left, gone in a
flash.  All the air was thick with the colored gas—did you smell it?"

As Sixty and Sol spoke, I jumped back down the mole hole and got the seeds.
Inspecting the rags, there were bright stains where the gas stuck to the
damp fibers.  Close call.

"Where's the Chosen One now?"

"Gas didn't seem to bother him.  He left with two guards in masks.  Went
back toward the city."

...

My hut was trashed, but it was trash to begin with – we went to Sol's
place.  He built near a small spring.

We drank and sat in the sun pouring the cold water over us as Sol retold
the story of the ship hovering low in the valley, people in long lines
shoving up the long, silvery ramp behind a beautiful girl with
golden-copper colored hair.  He told us how the musicians played as the
people marched, then followed them into the ship with the older people.

"Everyone left – it happened so easily and so fast.  I'm going down to
the valley to scrap from what they left."

Sixty and I stayed by the spring and rinsed again.  We watched Sol wind
down the trail to the valley with a sledge we jury-rigged.

I remembered the seeds Sixty brought, "What do those seeds grow?  Wheat, or
trees?  What?"

"I don't know."  Sixty said, "Yakub said to protect the plants and make
them grow."

About half way up the trail, Sixty and I went to help Sol.  He'd found some
lumber, a few metal things, more plastic containers and brought a burlap
bag of rags, not much.

...

In the cool of the evening we sat together watching the last of the sun's
rays light the east side of the valley.  Sixty and Sol were talking about
the seeds.  They planned where the garden would be, then Sol surprised us.
He went in his cabin and brought back a dark, flat disc about three inches
in diameter.  "What's that?"

"It's called a kuuk-ee."  Sixty immediately jumped up and began dancing
around.  Sol broke the cookie in half and gave it to Sixty; Sol and I got a
quarter of it.  So sweet it almost burned my mouth, and it was rich with
oil and flavor.  I let it melt on my tongue, savoring the feel and smell of
it.  "Where'd you get this?"

"Zoners down in the valley were scrapping too – they gave it to me.
Found this jar of kuuk-ees where the soldiers camped—they're clean."  He
continued, "Zoners have seven kids now, but still as mean as devils.  They
asked about you."  He said licking his fingers and shot me a wink.

...

Zoners.  That's what we called the tribe of women.  They called themselves
Amazonians, women who took the high ground across the valley shortly after
Dad and I came.  They started their own civilization, a tight community
behind their rugged palisades.  Killed a number of people during their
fortress-building time.  Back then, there were always men trying to get to
them.  They didn't want any more of the men, they only needed their sperm.
The best specimens of manhood they milked, then killed and ate.

Dad and I hid with Sol during their struggles.  They didn't bother us; we
avoided them.

Wasn't long ago they cornered me in the woods and forced a heavy load from
my balls—not gently.  They held me on the ground, lances pointed at my
eyes and chest.  Used their fingers up my butt and rubbed me till I filled
a small vial for them, then ran off.

Sol had been violated several times, he advised me to relax and enjoy it.
I was afraid of anyone with knives and lances.  More importantly, Zoners
had a reputation for making eunuchs.  Two shriveled ball sacs were nailed
to the door of their stockade.

...

Sol took Sixty-Eight to his hammock, I took a blanket on the floor.  Heard
them talking softly into the night until we heard thunder.  At the cabin
door, we watched the rainclouds rush across the sky; cleansing water fell
in heavy sheets.  The rain beat down on the thatched roof and the winds
whipped the few trees outside and through the valley.

Later I heard Sol moaning and telling Sixty-Eight, "Now lick it up, sweet
boy."  I rubbed one off in the damp darkness.

Woke to gray skies, more rain.  While Sol and Sixty planted their seeds in
small cups of mud, he explained about pollination and blossoms.  Sol was
gentle with the boy, telling him he'd probably wind up like us, being
satisfied with our meager lives on the side of the vale, "It's good here,
this is our home."  Sixty-Eight nodded and sat on his lap.

I went outside to stand in the rain until I had several months of crud
rinsed off my body.  We watched from the door as the river swelled,
flooding its banks and carrying away the debris from the now lost souls.

...

The next week, Sol and Sixty planted their sprouts.  They were already
rootbound.  Amazing that they grew so fast.  As they finished placing
stones around the edge of their garden, Sixty started shaking, he looked
worried.  He stared at me.

I stood, feeling the ground vibrate and looked up, then to the west.  A
fast, white blur flew above the horizon.  I jumped to the ground, belly on
the earth.  Had a feeling there would be a tremor soon, and there was.
Another ship had landed past the horizon.  Wasn't sure how many people
lived there, but Dad had told me years ago that there were people out west
– lots of them.  Another Chosen One selling more slaves?

Nothing I could do about it.

...

Sol checked the pit traps and came back with something that looked like a
squirrel, probably a rat that traveled with the crowd.  He skinned and
cleaned it and tossed it in a pot.  Sixty brought kindling and we built a
real fire to stew the unlucky beast.  A few roots, and boiled muscle for
dinner sounded good.  Smelled better – we hadn't eaten much in days.
Sol tossed in a big handful of dried leaves – poke salat.  Said it would
make us strong and rid the toxins from us.

As we ate, Sol asked Sixty if he went to school.  This boy was educated
– more from his friend Yakub than anyone else, he seemed to understand
more of ideas than anything else.  They talked about Aristotle, Khayyam and
several others I didn't know.

After rinsing our cups outside, I came back to find them embraced, sitting
on Sol's crate he used as a stool.  Sol wrapped the boy's legs around his
waist, whispering to him.  Sixty had his arms around Sol's neck, kissing
his chest.

I watched their dim forms caressing, touching.  Sol was never so tender
with me.  Sol whispered and looked down between them, he was explaining the
boy's foreskin and telling him how beautiful he was.  I moved closer and
watched.  He kissed the boy's forehead and stared into the boy's eyes as
Sol's fingers fondled the small spike, then his balls.  "Yes, perfect body.
You've had this body all your life?"

"I think so."  The boy whispered, "Kiss me more, I like it."  He tugged
Sol's beard pulling his head down.

The old man pressed the boy's head at his lips and they were tonguing!  Why
didn't I ever get any tongue kisses?  My heart was beating fast and I was
making a wet spot on the floor between my feet watching them.  Sol rocked
the boy gently against him, the spit on his finger and put it at the boy's
hole, "Rub our cocks, we're going to make magic."

"What's magic?"  The boy asked.

"You'll see."  Sixty gasped as Sol's finger found the boy's hole and he
rubbed and went back to kissing the boy.  Took a long time to get his
finger inside the boy and when he was in to the second knuckle, he held his
hand still while his finger explored inside the boy.  "Do you like that?"
He whispered.

Sixty stared into Sol's eyes feeling all the sensations of a skillful
massage.  Their rods stood up between them.  "Are you going to rub our
shafts together, my little bird?"

The boy was still transfixed by Sol's internal massage.

I stood, leaned my head between their torsos sucking Sol's tool and the tip
of Sixty's rod into my mouth – two dicks at once.  Licking and sucking,
I felt their bodies flinch.  Sol moaned and jerked; his juice felt good on
my tongue.  It ran down his shaft with my saliva to wet the small rod.  I
plunged his rod deeper into my throat and felt that small, hard twiglet
twitching and jerking alongside – his small, hot glans just inside my
lips.

Sol's free hand went to my head, "Don't stop."  Sixty gave a small mewl and
leaned back, popping his small shaft out of my mouth and I went full bore
on Sol.  Didn't take long for him to fill my throat with his heavy rushes
of cum.  Salty, strong, thick and rich.  As I stood, he grabbed my rod and
with only a few strokes, I burst my juice over them both.  We stayed still
for a few moments just enjoying the release and the closeness it brought.

Magic.


After the Rush Part 3

Our valley had two seasons – muddy or dusty.  Mud by the river began
drying, roiling into clouds settling in the low spots until the winds blew
it upward.  I liked the smell of minerals.

Started foraging on the south side of the valley, grasses, anything we
could find – not much now.  The seeds Sol and Sixty planted were growing
strong and fast during the last of the rainy season, one was a vine.  We
scrapped a make-shift lattice to keep it off the ground.  Before the next
full moon it sprouted buds.  Then, big, trumpet shaped flowers that were a
soft yellow color appeared.  The other plants were slower, not sure about
them.

When the vine was lush and full, blossoms formed and opened.  I'll be
damned if some tiny insects weren't attracted.  We watched as the bugs,
slightly larger than the gnats visit the stamens.  Hadn't seen many flying
insects, much less pollinators in years.  Soon tiny fruits started growing.
The small green balls grew, turned white, yellow, then a deep gold as they
plumped into fist-sized orbs.  Sol finally pronounced the first golden
fruit ready to eat.

Sol would try if first, wait a day and if he was still alive, we could eat
the others.  He sliced into the fruit—pale, semi-hard, interior and he
sliced again taking the bit into his mouth with the tip of his knife.  We
watched.

"What does it taste like?"  Sixty was hungry.

"Not much flavor – not sour," then he smiled as he chewed.  "Must be
loaded with complex carbohydrates – it's becoming sweeter..."  He
continued chewing and grabbed for more.  Didn't stop till he'd eaten the
whole fruit.  "Delicious."

We smiled and had dried poke in hot water for dinner, all the while hoping
he'd survive.  After dinner, Sol was in fine spirits and took Sixty and me
outside.  We sat by the vine, pulling out the tangles in our hair and
sticking it around in the vine thinking any stray animals that might want
the strange fruit would be scared away by our scents.

Sol stood to stretch in the light of a half moon.  As his arms were above
his head, he let out a small groan, then began singing.

My thoughts often replayed my father's songs, but I hadn't heard Sol sing.
He sang old ballads from years ago, then a song about an enchanted boy.  He
grabbed Sixty up to his chest and sang while he pressed the small body
against him, swaying and stepping.  Sixty was delighted and was humming
along with him as he held on tightly around Sol's neck.  They were kissing
and whispering again.

"C'mon, let's rinse off."  Sol pulled me up and we all went to the spring
to rub the dirt off before sleep.

Despite the whimsical start of the evening, Sol changed course.  Sol put
our boy sideways on the hammock, "He likes kissing.  Lean over and let him
kiss you – he's got a precocious little tongue."  Of course, I leaned
over, Sol had that sly look on his face, ready for mating.

"Been thinking about this all day."  He rubbed his leaking cock up and down
my cleft.  It was twice as good when Sixty held my face and kissed me.  I
groaned into Sixty's kiss when Sol's big rod penetrated me.  It had been a
long time; I needed that initial pain, the coming pleasure.  Rubbing the
boy's kit against mine, and feeling Sol working my ass, I almost cried it
felt so good.

If only for a few moments, I forgot how hard life was – how minimal, how
little comfort we had and remembered rich times with Dad.

Looking into Sixty's eyes, I saw joy, and feeling the passion of a close
friend shoving the pride of his manhood inside me, exciting me and rubbing
hard, I became weak.  Grabbing my hips, Sol grunted and plowed deeper.  Hot
blasts filled me and triggered my release.  Sol groaned loudly, then fell
on us.  Sixty was compacted underneath, I rolled to the side.  Sol's penis
fell out of me and a gush of fluids dripped.  Our closeness scented the air
around us; pure male joy.

...

With Sol's encouragement, the next afternoon Sixty and I each picked a
fruit from the vine and ate it immediately.  Tasted rich, solid texture and
with a cup of water our stomachs felt stuffed full.  Incredible how the
fruit allowed us to relax and gave us a subtle energy.  We began
re-thatching Sol's roof and ramming the earthen floor and we'd need to
sweep—a new experience for us.

Before the next full moon, we foraged on the mountainsides and looked back
to see that Sol's cabin was surrounded by a ring of green.  Saplings
sprouted, grasses and plants where there was only dusty, dead grasses and
rocks.  Maybe it was from the spring water or all the attention we were
giving the plants.  Were the roots of Sixty's plants rejuvenating the soil?


After the Rush Part 4

During that dry season, we went to the river.  We trekked down looking
forward to a swim, Sol singing about ants as we tromped along.  The river
looked clean and inviting.  We stepped in slowly and began swimming.  Clean
and refreshed, we came out to meet three Zoners with their lances pointed
at us.  They had our knives.

Eyed us silently.  We stood still waiting to see what they were going to
do.  I pulled Sixty by my side.  They motioned us out of the water.

The tallest Zoner stepped forward, "Where'd you get the boy?  We have the
only children here."

Sol stepped forward and in his most diplomatic way, "He found us.  Escaped
from the loading."  He smiled, "Care to join us for a swim?"

The younger Zoner giggled and the older one shot her a look.  "We want to
know why your place is so green.  What's going on?"

"Ah!  Suspect we have something you might want?  We'll be glad to talk with
your leader, not a vice anything or second in command, but your leader or
cacique – whatever you call her."

They went into a huddle.  "Tomorrow."

"Not so fast, ladies.  First, we have no grievance with you and have never
tried to penetrate your fortress or harm you.  We'll meet you at
three-rock—at dawn.  No lances, no guards, no tricks or you'll lose the
information you want.  If we see her coming with anyone else, or any
weapons, we'll leave.  Give us our knives and go tell her."

They spoke for a moment and kicked our knives toward us, then backed away
while we waited for them to run back to their fortress.

...

Three-rock was a formation that sat in the open where we could see the
trails and the mountainsides.

I didn't like this idea, staying separate was easier.  "They raped me."  I
told Sol.  "Held me down hard and stuck their fingers up my butt, then
jerked me off.  They could have just asked for me to pull one off."

"We'll work it out tomorrow.  I'm looking for a peace pact with them—no
reason we can't all live peaceably."

That night we packed the blanket with four fruits from the vine and went to
sleep near the three rocks before the last rays of sun were gone.  None of
us slept.  Before dawn, we saw torches coming down the trail toward us.

As the sun rose, we saw them carrying long branches with rags tied on the
top.  Only three Zoners.  Watching carefully, they approached us.  They
wore only loincloths, two carried bags over their shoulders.  One had a
square face and white hair—looked like a grandmother.  Sixty and I stood
beside Sol as they approached without expressions– they were very thin
and appeared tired.

"We are the triumvirate; we lead as one."  The white-haired woman said.  I
scanned the area for any Zoners in the scrub – it appeared they were
alone.  A line of guards stood outside their fort.

The woman with the bag sat down and unfolded a blanket, then the women sat
on it and pulled out a wine skin and offered it to Sol.  "Sit.  Drink with
us."  She took a swig from the skin and handed it to Sol.  He sat and took
a drink, then passed it to me and Sixty, then the other leaders.  Sol and
the older woman looked at each other closely in silence for a long time.

"Your place is green and you look well-fed.  What is this miracle?"  The
oldest asked.

"Before I say anything, I want you to call off your guards.  We're tired of
being harassed and we won't let our boy be hurt."

"Where'd you get the boy?  Do you have a woman hidden?"  Another of the
three asked.

"He escaped the loading and found us.  We have no women, you know that.
I've seen your guards spying on us from the watchtowers.  I'm not giving
you any information or anything else until you give us your word and seal
it.  We came here to get away from war and death, now we have to live under
the threat of your guards, rape and death.  I need a sacred assurance of
peace before I say anything."

The three women spoke softly together.  "No.  How do we know you won't kill
our women, set fire to our stronghold?  We don't trust you."

"We never show aggression to any of you."  Sol said and cocked his head.
"Empty wombs and out of sperm providers--does that describe your situation?
Did you send your guards last night to plunder our bodies?  I imagine the
younger men you brought got uppity, then castrated, am I right?  Time to
build some trust and the first move's yours."

The older woman's face didn't move – she considered Sol's question.  "We
don't castrate anymore, that was our last leader.  What specifically are
you asking for – this sacred assurance?"

They watched intently as Sol opened our bag and brought squash, already
sliced.  He took a piece and ate it.  "Let's eat before we talk."  The
women took a few slices and nibbled on them tentatively then smiled.

"It turns sweet on my tongue."  One said and grabbed for more.  We drank
from the bag and ate.  The fruits had their mellowing effect; Sixty quietly
studied the women as the group talked.  Kept staring at the older one.

As the squash permeated their bloodstreams and brains, Sol stayed on course
and first negotiated a brief exchange between our two camps.

Then, he suggested summer and winter solstices where we would meet at
three-rock and offer them sperm, if we felt so generous.  In return, they
would offer us peace and the fabrics they'd woven, different goods they
made.  We could live amicably with the goal of bringing the plants and
animals back to the valley.  They could have their children and we would be
secure.

We agreed to meet again, unarmed, in three days to finalize our agreement.
We all walked down to the river before the trail split off.  Surprisingly,
the Zoners walked into the water with us and swam till we were all cool and
clean.  As we left the water, one of the women asked to examine Sixty.

"Ask him."  I told her.

Sixty hesitantly agreed and her hands touched his small body lightly.  His
three inches hardened as she looked at his eyes and ears, his neck and
chest.  "He's going to be big and strong."  She looked closer at his face
and hair, "What's your name?"

He couldn't tell them about being the clone of the Chosen One.  Quickly,
"Pierce.  His name's Pierce, like fierce."  Humans aren't named for
percentages and they might kill him if they found out; Pierce was my dad's
name.

Never would have guessed the boy wanted a real name.  Sixty's sweet face
looked up at the woman, smiling, "Pierce, like fierce."

...

We met again and made an agreement.  We would watch the ridge up behind our
place if they stopped the patrols near Sol's hut.  Together we worked out a
signal to alert the Zoners – a torch waved or three whistles for danger.
They agreed to stop raping and no violence in the valley in exchange for
our sperm taken gently in celebration.  After an emissary exchange, we
would consider sharing the squash seeds.

Sol didn't say anything about the other two plants.  Kept those cards in
his non-existent pocket.  The three women seemed pleased, they wanted peace
but they were as wary as we were.  Trust had to be built slowly and
carefully.

If not, well, there were more of them than us.  Any loss or injury to us
would critically damage their future plans.

...

I didn't like the emissary exchange, so I took Pierce with me.  For the
next few days, Sol hosted a Zoner, a younger gal who brought a blanket for
Sol.

Pierce, and I stayed inside the Zoner's fortress.  They had a lot of junk
they'd scrapped, tools, a wheeled cart.  Among their group were two
eunuchs.  Sixty was enthralled with them, they were very good-looking men.
The eunuchs were mostly quiet – one was their doctor of sorts, the other
worked in the weaving and twisting of fibers into ropes, he was a barber,
he said.

We got the grand tour by the white-haired woman, the other Zoners stared as
we passed.  The few children came to Pierce and rubbed him.  Some of them
pinched his tanned skin, not enough to hurt, but curious about him.  He
wanted to play, but they were dull-eyed, sluggish.

We were offered broth while they told stories of how they'd come years ago
and hid in shallow caves they dug.  Slowly built their mighty walls around
them.  Must have hauled the timbers from far away, I noticed there were
fewer women now than before.  In one corner of their fort were graves; I
didn't ask, but there was great human loss for their progress.

They questioned my boy.  Pierce only said he'd escaped from the mob before
the ship came and hauled the townspeople away.  They looked at me.

"My father brought me when I was around four."  Two older women remembered
my father well.  My dad had a big, bushy red beard and long brown hair he
kept braided in a long, thick rope down his back.

...

The first night we spent under a thatched awning on leaves.  Women and
children gathered around watching from the dark.  I pulled Pierce close to
me, knowing we were being observed.  He turned to kiss me.  That was
comforting in a strange place, I kissed him back and we rubbed our shafts
together.  When I came, I quietly groaned and heard gasps from the darkness
around us.  Kept Pierce in my arms all night.

The next morning, we were woken by the eunuchs who wiped us with their
rough fabric dampened in water, and we went to see the looms.  Not much to
their weaving – Zoner fabrics were narrow and crude.  He showed us
sandals that tied around ankles and legs.  Clever.

To the side was a wood-working area.  Several women fashioned tables,
stools and bowls from scrapped wood.  We ate from very smoothly carved
bowls.

...

That night was the big celebration.  Children, women, us, led by the
eunuchs were marched to the big meeting space.  A round, covered area.
Seated on the ground by the three leaders, we were treated to a dance and
music.  Simple lutes, whistling and drums played while several women sang.
Pierce wanted to dance with the girls as they slowly twirled and smiled.

Then, very clearly the white-haired woman explained that we were no longer
enemies, but we were one community in the valley helping each other.  She
lifted her head, and announced we would be donating sperm to the women.
Stopped her speech and called the guards into the center of the room: "If
any of the men are raped, or harmed in any way, it will cost your life.
Immediately, you will have your heart cut out after your throat is slit in
front of all.  No burial, your bodies will be thrown in the gorge."

Turning to the women, "I knew the father of this man.  Pierce was a good
man, brought his son here to save him, they carved out a small space and
struggled together.  Sol came – he's a good man, too.  They are
peaceful.  We must look at them as our survival now.  We only have three
male children and they are slow boys.  To be strong, we need more males.
If any of you hurt our neighbors, you will lose your life."  She walked in
front of the women, "You will have your children, and we must be careful,
records must be kept to keep us strong.  Do you understand?"

The room fell silent until a woman's voice in the back said she wanted a
man of her own.  "One man, I want a father for my baby."

"If one woman feels she can own a man like a slave and keep him to herself
it would only bring problems.  Until there are enough for all, we must
remain apart.  You have your partners, your ways.  We've made a trade and a
promise.  I cannot let you fall back into the ways under the Chosen Ones.
Greed, lying, coveting, fighting doesn't fill our bellies.  We'll have to
eat our children and ourselves too soon with that thinking.  Selfishness
and greed of the Chosen Ones are the reasons we scratch to survive now.
We've discussed this before, and we'll continue being both mother and
father to our children."  She paused, "Now for the presentations."

Drummers made a ruckus as three women brought gifts.  One gave us sandals,
three pair.  Another offered us a drawstring bag with made of what looked
like squirrel pelt.  Lastly, a young boy brought a bit of clay shaped into
a deer and handed it to Pierce.  The beginning of ceramics.

I stood: "Thank you, these are fine gifts. Very fine.  I hope a peaceful
valley comes with these.  We thank you for your hospitality and
generosity..."  Maybe it was the smell of the women, or feeling
comfortable, my dick got hard—stuck straight out.  The women twittered.
Blushing, I looked toward the older women, "Sorry `bout that.  Don't mean
to be impolite," I shrugged, "Can't help it."

Women twittered around the area.  The older woman stood, "Treat our guests
with honor.  This is how men's bodies work in their normal state.  When
this happens outside mating, ignore it, like a sneeze."  Several women put
their faces down to hide their grins.

I went back to my presentation, "Now, Pierce will sing for you."  I was so
proud of Pierce as he sang about the ants, then cartwheeled across the
space.  There was a lot of noise for his antics.  For a moment, I felt like
this was the beginning of good things.

...

The eunuchs walked us back to our beds under a full moon, showed us how
eunuchs pleasured themselves. Fingering and sucking each other, they tied
their cocks to retain their rigidity to enjoy sucking and sex in their
rears.  Four bodies tangled in a heated, sweaty mound as we moved against
each other, taking pleasure from the closest willing orifice offered.  What
a glorious mountain of men and boy.

 We heard stirring from the darkness, the women were watching.  Didn't stop
me from graciously receiving that gift from the eunuch and giving one back.
I think Pierce fell in love that night, he and the other eunuch made a lot
of noise enjoying themselves.

The next day, the three leaders and a cadre of guards escorted us to the
trail.  Sol and the blanket gal met us half way, smiling.  Sol was beaming,
I knew what probably happened, that ol' rounder.

Peace pact was successful so far.

...

Sol was a wise owl; we began separating seeds from the pulp of the squash
and let them dry to raise more plants.  We had two tall bushes growing
filled with deep green leaves from the other seeds, but no fruit.  I hoped
it made something like pears or plums.  The green space around Sol's house
became lush with all kinds of grasses, saplings sprouted and our days were
spent searching for roots to flavor our stews.

Daily, Pierce and I ran to the river to bathe.  Sol stayed near the shore,
standing in the mud.  One day, he squatted and looked around, then called
us.  "Look.  Dinner!"

We swam to him and looked at his feet to see several bug-like creatures.
"The crawdads are back!"  He pointed out the mounds made of little balls of
mud.

"Can you really eat `em?"  They were ugly.

We caught three.  Sol tossed them in the big can of water and made a fire.

They made a fine broth, and I chewed the shells and all.  Pierce examined
his closely with his fingers before he pulled the shell off and sucked out
the insides.  Along with a gourd, our bellies were full.

...

Zoner guards came by daily on their rounds and gave us any news they had.
No sightings of other humans, mostly they told us about coming rain or how
their women were doing, said the blanket-gal was pregnant.

The summer solstice was coming in a few days. Sol told me that our mating
would have to cease until then.  Pierce didn't like only kisses, I was
hornier than ever.

We were escorted to three-rock for the celebration.  Zoners had the place
cleared, they were holding foot races and games for everyone.  Straight and
limber, Pierce was a jewel among the skinny children from the fort.

I hadn't said much but stayed near the guards and the children most of the
time.  Sol was speaking with the triumvirate while I was getting anxious
about the evening when I'd have to make several donations.  How would that
happen?  The women were skinny, slow, I didn't want to mate any of them.
Didn't even like the idea of that.

The night came and we ate our squash together with Sol offering gourd
sprouts to the Zoners and we were thanked with words and applause.  Broke a
sweat, didn't want to mate.  It was getting closer with every breath.

The eunuchs came to us and escorted us to a small place nearby with a
blanket.  Sol and I were gently laid, and manually pleased by a smiling
eunuch in the light of a torch.  They took our semen away in small,
polished bowls and handed it to a woman who came from the shadows.

We were given water and food, gently massaged and later that evening,
pleasured again.  Pierce fell asleep while we were drained a third time.
Not too bad, those eunuchs had great technique, kissing and massaging, I
enjoyed it and that was their objective.

The next morning in our cabin, I asked Sol if we would ever know which of
the babies were ours.  I was curious.  Sol told me that it wasn't our
business, the children would be taken care of and indoctrinated into the
Zoner's long-term rebuilding strategy.

These Zoners learned a lot from the past Chosen Ones and were determined
not to repeat past mistakes, it seemed.

...

Sol had been watching the other seedlings grow in to maturity.  The dark
green bushes made little nuts about the size of my thumb.  Pierce called
them sticky-nuts, they had a spot of sticky substance in the husks.
Shelling the nuts stained our fingers.  The meat was red, rich and
satisfying when roasted.  The two bushes grew rapidly behind the cabin.  We
kept them our secret, but soon it was evident we were eating richer food.
Our skin was no longer dry, we shone with health and our hair was thick and
bright.

The last of the three plants was a grass.  It grew tall, about two feet and
had a heavy pod filled with seeds.  Very small, black seeds that stewed
well – not much flavor but filling.  Then, Sol popped a few in a pot.
Would have been better with salt.  Pierce and I didn't complain –
pop-seeds were scrumptious!

Pop-seeds spread by their root system.  We waited till the slender stalks
were heavy before we harvested them and found the fibers of their stalks
was tough – we dried and twisted it into ropes immediately.

...

Winter solstice came and we showed up with nutty grain-cakes and a length
of rope as gifts.  What a celebration – the Zoners looked healthier,
full faces and happy.  Races started among the children.  Pierce didn't win
all the foot races as before.

After our first tapping by the eunuchs, we sat drinking water when one of
them told us their sentries hadn't seen any smoke or fire on the horizon in
six months over in the old city.  Said we were safer now, but had to remain
vigilant to the west.

The eunuchs took us aside again in the dark and I kissed Pierce while that
man pleasured me till I thought I'd turn inside out.  A few moments later I
heard Sol moaning.  Then it was done for this solstice.

Before parting from the Zoners, "If you haven't seen signs of life in the
city, I want to go back and scrap.  We've got enough food for the trip
now."  Sol stated.

Three months walking to the city, and three months back with a load of
crap?  We did need more metal for tools, yet six months crossing the
flatlands could be dangerous.  Sol asked for several of the strongest
Zoners to accompany us.

I didn't want to go.  I didn't want Pierce to go either, but Pierce could
sense guards – maybe he should go.  If I lost them both, I'd be alone
with the Zoners.  Didn't particularly like that idea.

...

The next morning, we shared fruit with the women, readying to go back to
our hut when the younger eunuch, Sterling, came to me asking about the rope
I'd made, "Where did you find the fibers?  We can't find anything that
strong."

I pointed to Sol, he was holding back his information on the other two
plants.  Sol told him he'd bring some if he found more of it and shook the
eunuch's hand, "You're a fine man, Sterling.  If you ever get a night
off..."  They were both smiling.

Pierce and I went to the visit the children, he wanted to play.  Couldn't
help but notice the older children wore necklaces of beads glazed, yellow,
brown and gray.  The women had clay bowls and cups, rough and uneven, they
were perfecting their craft.  Their woven pieces were smoother and more
flexible than before.  They were hiding their discoveries like Sol hid the
plants.

...

Among the triumvirate, Sol and me, it was decided that Sol and two of the
Zoner leaders would go with two eunuchs and Pierce to the old city.  The
five adults were strong and smart – each carried a knife and a lance.
The older of the Zoner would stay in their compound and I would stay in my
hut, sharing the lookout duties among us.

We packed their small cart and walked them down the path to the river and
out of the valley before the dawn, Pierce leading them along the river to
the east.

...

While they were gone, I set about drying the gourds, saving the hulls to
use as bowls.  The vine grew stronger, bigger and was winding around a
fourth trellis.  The grasses with grains flourished, spreading quickly.  I
made a metate with a rock and a log and began grinding the seeds into
flour.  The sticky-nut bush was filled with more fruits every day.

Repaired and replaced the rotted thatching and found plenty of dried
kindling.  Went down to the shoals and gathered clay to chink the sides of
the hut and made webbing for a bed.

The first night of the full moon, I saw a big fire inside the compound,
lots of smoke that stunk.  The next morning, I heard their drums beating
and decided to meander up to check it out.

Inside the compound was busy, everyone working and the children sitting
under the big awning studying math and reading.  Interesting...  They
scratched out letters and numbers on the ground in front of them in fine
sand they carried in little bags.  I went directly to the white-haired
leader, "What happened last night?  Did something burn?"

She smiled and led me to her tent, showed me a bowl, still warm from
firing, "It's glazed, sealed from moisture and microbes.  Had to build a
bigger fire."  Holding it like a prize, I took it.  The bowl wasn't shiny,
but there was the hard coating in a grayish hue.

"Now you'll need soap to wash your dishes."  I chuckled.

"We've got enough ashes to make the lye but no oil to mix with it."

The next weeks, if I saw Zoners at the river, I went to bathe with them.
There were times I helped chop the rushes.  They made fine, water-tight
baskets.  We exchanged a few things and I listened to them sing.  Our
valley was peaceful for the months without our friends.  I'm sure it was
the older, white-haired woman who kept things in line, held authority with
just her gaze and her left eyebrow.

...

Days went quietly until I heard drumming.  It started fast, then stopped.
Started and stopped.  With the monocular, I saw the guards were watching
me, waving rags toward the east.  Sol and Pierce must be on the horizon.
Hustling, I packed a bag of squash and ran the valley and along the river.
Espied a cloud of dust in the distance.

Were they alone?  Why so much dust?  Strange that the cloud was visible
from so far away.  Ran toward them till I tired, I waited in the shade of a
spindly grove of trees as they came closer, then ran again.  Pierce saw me
and began running toward me.  Sweaty and dirty, we held each other for a
long time.

"We got a burro."  He said, "And sheep."

"Really?  What's left of the city?"

"Most of it burned—ashes."

Joining with the troupe, it would take till nightfall to reach the valley.
I trudged along with the silent group, handing each a fruit.  They were
tired but pulled a second cart with the burro.  At the mouth of the valley,
guards came out to help pull and take the animals.

Sunrise, the sheep stirred and we spread out the loot at the bottom of our
valley.  Aside from the livestock, they mostly had machinery – pulleys,
sledge hammer, saws, parts of an old grinder and an axle.  Saw bolts, nuts,
nails, tools and a bag full of books.  The eunuchs had brought a few pots
and pans and something with a thin, wooden wheel on it.  They said it was a
spinning wheel.

"Don't all wheels spin?"

...

Life got easier with a cart and a burro.  Sheep were carefully groomed and
cared for; we needed their wool.  Through the next year, the valley began
to green, grasses came back, saplings stood along the trail.  We were able
to make bricks to shore the walls of the house.  Sol and I tore my old
house down.  Harvested bamboo that had returned to the riverbanks to make
all kinds of comforts.

Pierce, Sol and I improved our lives every day – plenty of food, healthy
and strong, peace with the Zoners and earth was healing beneath and around
us.  Life was good, except for one thing—Pierce.

Pierce wasn't ill.  He was, happy and visited with the Zoners almost every
week to visit his friends and play games.  His body wasn't growing any
taller.

Our little sprite made life worth living, he was our only future yet it
seemed his body wasn't aimed at adulthood.  Looking into the years ahead,
Sol and I would age, weaken, we needed a strong man beside us.

...

Can't recall how many more solstices passed, two or three came and went.
Every celebration was longer.  More food, more dancing, more sharing of the
gifts we made from the plants that now grew lush in the valley.  More
pregnant women, some making their third or fourth child.

We felt secure and were more self-sustaining with every season.  The Zoners
came by, visiting almost every day on the way to the western watchtower
with me.  We had no fear of each other.  We'd made peace; we'd made better
lives for everyone.


After the Rush Part 5

It was a winter solstice; I remember it well.  Sol and Pierce and I had
found a way to weave bamboo slats and reeds into floor coverings.  We
brought four bamboo weavings, sprigs of rosemary and a handful of wild
onions we found along the way.

Before the eunuchs began harvesting our seed that night, several Zoners
made a show of whistling like birds.  Then we all fell silent.  A few
seconds later, a bird answered from the hillside.  Not a vulture's cry, or
a crow's caw, but a songbird sang.  That was beautiful, the last of the
migrating birds found our valley and came to nest.  That was an optimistic
moment, but it also meant we had to be on the lookout for any other humans
left who could have noticed the birds and followed them.  Marauders might
find us.

At our celebration, instead of squash and water, there was a big earthen
olla in the fire stewing dinner.  Children gathered around with bowls,
ready to eat.  We all stood and the triumvirate thanked us; Sol thanked
them and reminded everyone that living in peace was the only way we would
survive.

Some of the women gathered, and the eunuchs appeared.  Time to give them
our sperm again, but I wasn't as disgruntled as I was before.  Felt like I
was part of peacemaking, and a gift to Pierce, his future.

The eunuchs began their delightful work.  By now, I knew I wanted Sterling
to drain me. He smiled, and told me how precious I was, then, he'd suck my
nipples while my body responded to his ministrations.  Always slow and
deep, he had an erotic way about his touch.  Wanted to kiss and hold him
like a lover but we were being watched.

Sol, on the other hand, suggested a direct application of his seed, and
requested a virgin.  That was nixed, it would be too disruptive.  Sol was a
big, handsome man, hazel eyes, dark, wavy hair.  Sure, those women wanted
to be filled by his log—I enjoyed it often enough to know.

The evening quieted down after several sessions and Pierce came to lay with
Sol and me.  A short distance away was the triumvirate on their woven mats.
A full moon hung above us giving us plenty of light.  Pierce and I watched
for shooting stars as the older woman came and sat beside us.

"May I touch you, Pierce?"  She asked softly.

He nodded and her hand passed slowly up and down his body, his shoulders,
his face, his arms and to his groin.  He watched her face.  "How old were
you when you came to the valley?"

"I don't know."

She began stroking his small spike, he liked that.  A few moments later his
body jerked and he grunted, his orgasm completed.  Her hand stayed and she
felt along his slit, then got up and left.

She wanted to know when their gene pool could be expanded, and it made me
wonder.  Pierce was around nine years when he arrived.  He'd been here
almost five years.  If he was growing, it was at a slowed rate.  Enjoyed
him being a boy, but maybe he would be a short man, then I remembered his
father was tall...  He was sixty-eight percent his father's clone, where
did the other thirty-two percent come from?

What did the other thirty-two percent come from?

In our cabin, I asked Sol about Pierce, "Seems he's not developing – his
growth is delayed."

"I noticed, but what can we do?"  He was at the spring washing his face.
"He eats plenty.  Maybe he'll hit a growth spurt soon.  Some boys develop
later."

...

That night, I spoke with Pierce.  "You know my semen – um, my cum makes
children when it's put inside a woman..."  He knew that, nodded his head
but wondered why I was explaining this.

Still concerned about the extent of his body being human, "When Yakub
changed your programming, did he say anything about you being a father?"

 "We never talked about it.  Why?"

"The old woman was touching you to see if your body is maturing – like
when the squash makes blossoms, then seeds.  She was seeing if you're
getting ready to make seed to plant inside the women.  They want more
children.  They'd like for the eunuchs to pull your seed for the women."
From there, I explained that as he grew, he'd get hair, an Adam's apple,
and a big penis and scrotum then, he'd have seeds.  "Were you programmed to
become a man?  Most boys grow several inches a year."

"I don't know about what Yakub did in my head.  He didn't explain it all,
he said he wanted me to be happy and told me to escape."

Then I took him and kissed him, and fingered his short rod.  Moving
downward, I kissed his nipples, then his belly.  I tickled him, then I spit
on my finger and worked it inside his rear.  Loved feeling his hands in my
hair as I sucked him and rubbed inside his ass.  Damn, he was so tight and
hot.  I found his little glands and began rubbing, feeling his hips hunch
several times.  Sweet, light orgasms, he grunted several times then pulled
my hair as he hit his climax.

Holding him closely, I kissed him and told him to lie still on his back.
Straddling his face, I put my leaking glans at his lips.  He looked up at
me as I watched his pointed pink tongue tickling my slit and promised
myself I wouldn't push too deep for too long.  "Suck it all out of me and
swallow it all, don't lose any."

Good like that, and with every shove and every suck, I willed my cum to
help my boy grow.

It's a rich feeling being a man, hot, heavy loads shooting from your rod.
Pierce needed to feel that, and grow a bush of hair on his chest and groin,
feel his balls swinging between his legs.  Had no idea if my seed would
help him, but we put ourselves to sleep after my best try.

...

Next day, "Sol, we have to find out why Pierce isn't growing.  He's not
getting any bigger and the triumvirate are going to start asking if we're
stunting him.  His head's still as high as my nipples – same as when he
came.  Do you think he's going to be really short?"

"Not sure."

Took all morning as Sol set about pressing, touching, questioning Pierce.
Stuck his finger in Pierce's mouth, took him outside to look in his ears,
over his entire scalp looking for any kind of scar or possible implant we
hadn't seen.

Always kissing him and telling him he was a wonderful boy, he came to the
narrow groin, "Stand still, this may feel uncomfortable."  Well, it was, so
Sol took the boy's short rod in his mouth and began sucking while his
fingers squeezed and pressed and prodded the short, bald sac.  Pierce
jerked, but it felt so good and was sharply painful at the same time as
Sol's hands pressed into and around the small scrotum.  Finally, Sol
wrapped his arms around the narrow hips and pulled the boy into his face
hard.  Pierce jumped a little, gasped several times and sighed.

Later that night, I put Pierce in the hammock and went outside with Sol.

"There's a nodule behind his left testicle.  That could be slowing him.
Nodule's so hard, felt like a rock, `bout as big as a ten pop-seeds.  We
got to get it out of him – see what it is."

"Could it be tracking him?"

"No one's come looking for him.  Yet."

"Cut my boy?  That's going to be dangerous – he could die."

"Years ago, people castrated animals in the fields.  Since his balls are
outside his body, if we're careful, it should be alright.  Maybe cut off
the blood flow first."

"You know how to castrate?"

"I know some women who do."  We looked at each other.  Couldn't ask them,
they'd start a war, they needed a third string of DNA, and were waiting for
Pierce' sperm.

...

We did it ourselves. Grabbed Pierce and tied him to the hammock, face up
and he was throwing a fit until I stuffed his mouth with a small gourd and
secured it with a rope.  My heart hurt seeing him struggle.  I'd broken our
trust of love; he didn't understand.

Sharpening and cleaning the knife carefully in a flame, Sol began cutting
carefully alongside the boy's tight ball sac.  With the tip of the knife,
he stuck it under the small almond-shaped testicle.  He moved the tip,
"There it is."  Pulled the knife out and opened the wound wider, "Get that
piece of wire, I think we can pull it out."

Dug around, finally pulled out a tiny half-dome of metal.  I looked at it
while Sol rinsed the wound and spoke reassuringly to the boy.  "Let's hope
it doesn't get infected and lose the testicle."

"One side, now the other in case there's another."  We were both sweating
over the boy's slender, bald groin. At this point, I believe Pierce had
passed out, but his breathing was regular.  Sol cut then stopped for a
moment, but kept exploring the second testicle with the point of his knife.
Instead of a testicle, he found a soft, turquoise, silicone-covered shape.
"Got to cut it out.  I don't see a blood vessel or nerve to it."

Pierce awoke, wide-eyed and tried to scream.  He struggled hard the whole
time.  Sol took the tip of the knife, held it in the flame then began
tugging on the lump, pulled it and asked me to hold it as he severed the
several plastic staples that held it to my boy's body.  Then he held the
red-hot metal tip of the knife to close a small bleeder, and did it again.
The second time, Pierce screamed with the gag in his mouth.  I cried and
muffled him the best I could.

We kept Pierce tied that night after we cleaned his wounds.  He must have
passed out again, but we'd been careful.  Had to inspect what we pulled out
of his body in the sunlight.

...

Next morning, I untied Pierce.  He was shooting me evil looks and wore a
nasty expression.  He ran out to pee and I followed, Sol right behind.
Small fists pounded our chests. He kicked us.  I didn't stop him—he was
right to be angry.  Carried him near the garden and lay him under the
vines, giving him a squash to eat.  His cuts were closed, not red, not hot.

"Why did you hurt me?"

Sol brought the small plastic lump and the metal dome, "This is why.  Are
you transmitting?  Is someone tracking you?"

"I don't know."  He began crying again, small fingers rubbing his ball sac
which now only held one tiny testicle.  "You hurt me.  I'm going to go live
with the Zoners.  You don't love me."

My heart broke when he said that, I bent down and looked at the cuts, then
kissed his tender groin. Through the day, the worst happened.  He lay down
to nap and didn't get up, feverish and his tender groin was bright pink.
Brought water and cooled him.  After a long discussion, Sol went for
Sterling the eunuch.

...

Pierce didn't wake as the Sterling gently touched him, inspecting the
festering wound.  "Why did you cut him?"  I looked at Sol, he shook his
head.  The eunuch grabbed his bag and brought out packets of cloth, "Boil
water."  He ordered and opened the fabric envelopes that held leaves and a
crystalline rock.  "Boil water!  Now!"

He boiled the rock in the water and soaked the rag, sprinkling it with
dried leaves.  Kept doing it until I took over, then Sol.  We cooked squash
and nuts till they were soft and made a mush of them for Pierce to eat.
Through the night, we continued.  Pierce called out from his dreams in a
strange language.

Sol begged Sterling to only tell the Zoners that Pierce got a fever.  "He
can still father children with one testicle, and they're going to think
we're threatening their plans.  We want to keep peace."

"Why did you do it?"  Sterling asked again.

"Must have poked himself with his knife, his testicle was swollen, we
removed it before it spread further."  Sol lied.

The eunuch cocked his head, "What really happened?  What will you tell the
Zoners?"

"Accidents happen."

Sterling left but came back that night with more herbs and another stone,
he said it was a form of salt to draw the swelling.

Sol and Sterling spoke into the night.  Their conversation included the
past Chosen Ones, and Sol carefully edged on the topic of Pierce's
background.  "We suspect he's a clone, a human clone the best we can
figure.  Not sure."

Instead of running in horror, Sterling explained the reason he held
doctor's responsibilities through several regimes in the fortress.  He'd
worked as a chemist, "I'm no doctor, but I can scavenge from the earth and
use the minerals in limited ways.  The labs were rife with traitors, sick
minds..."

They talked into the night while I stayed by Pierce, falling asleep with
him.  Woke to find that the eunuch and Sol left during the night.  Kept on
heating water, applying compresses and bringing water to Pierce who was
calmer, but his skin was damp.  Fevered, he was restless.  Felt useless but
didn't know what else to do, I loved my boy as much as my father loved me.

When his fever increased, I carried him bodily to the spring and pouring
the cold water over him until he began shivering and took him inside to
hold against me until his dreams returned.  Pierce' infection wasn't
waning.

Shortly after Sol and Sterling returned, several Zoners showed up asking
what was going on.

I turned over, hiding Pierce behind me, pretending to be resting.  They
took Sterling back to their fortress without too many questions.  Sol cut a
deal with Sterling to keep his mouth shut.  I didn't ask.

...

Took almost two weeks of nursing Pierce back to health.  He healed, his
body fought off the infection and his hunger, thirst returned, though he
didn't seem to have much energy.  Pierce had to be kept covered; we all
three wore loincloths made of rope and rags like the eunuchs.

After a few days, my curiosity got the best of me, "What did you tell
Sterling about Pierce?"

"I told him the truth and showed him what we took out of the boy.  He
didn't say much except that the boy probably began without gender.  The
metal piece was probably giving off a kind of male frequency.  Wasn't sure
if he was lying about that, and the soft lump was just a filler but could
have been releasing a growth inhibitor.  If he stayed a boy he'd have a
better chance of survival—that may have come from his friend Yakub."

"So, what is Pierce?  Is he a boy or neither boy nor girl?  What?"

"From Sterling's information, Pierce has about eleven years of this male
signal from his groin.  I imagine if that's true, he's a boy, but I don't
know if he'll be a man."

"Winter solstice next week.  What are we going to do?"

"Don't know."

...

Didn't need to think about it.  Sterling came in the night, "Leave."  He
looked at Pierce and me.  "They suspect you're going to try to overthrow
the triumvirate."

"How could we overthrow them?  We don't carry weapons—there's only three
of us."

"The guards haven't seen the boy in a while, they've been keeping an eye on
him."

"Why?"

"Sperm, eventually—why else?"  He glanced at me, "But it's the older
lady, the one with white hair, she asks for a report every evening on you,
Sol and Pierce.  She thinks he has an illness and you're going to spread it
at the solstice and take over."

Through the dark hours he explained that the older woman had introduced a
new idea, "Divine Selection."  She touted her age was lengthened by divine
selection from the earth they worshipped, their Mother Earth.  Mother Earth
had given her wisdom and a leadership position through the improved lives
she'd created.  "Been saying that for about a month, now she comes up with
this idea about capturing you, holding you inside the fort.

"She's another `Chosen One.'"  Sterling hung his head.  Sol and I reeled,
felt duped into her plan by sharing what we had, what we knew.

Sterling had a stalk of green bamboo in his hand, about four feet long,
"I'll show you something."  We gathered around him while he took a sharp
rock and began whittling tiny slits in the outer layer of bark.

"Walk toward the west."  He pointed to the row of slits.  "Walk ten moons
in the direction of the setting sun;" ten dots.  "You'll come to the
mountains," there were zig-zagged marks.  "Walk the foot hills south for
two moons and turn back to the setting sun.  You'll come to a wide valley.
Cross it to the foothills, through the mountains.  Keep walking west till
you come to the ocean."  He showed us the marks on the stick notating his
instructions.  "Oceans are sandy stretches with wide waters that taste
salty."

Pulled out a drawstring bag, showed us metal disk, he handed it to Pierce.
"Listen carefully, this may save your life: If you meet people, they'll ask
where you're from.  Do not mention any kind of Chosen One, the city, or
this valley.  Say you're from Oh-má-ha.  Repeat that."

"Oh-má-ha."  Pierce and I paid close attention.  Sterling leaned close,
handing the metal disk to me.  "This is where to go.  Good weather, plenty
of food at the beach, springs and fruit trees.  You'll find people there
who'll help.  Just don't pull that coin out before you get to the coast,
someone'll think it's gold; it's only brass."

He looked around, "Get a blanket, pack only what you need and leave."

"What is this place?"  I examined the figures on the coin.  "Dis...
Dis-sen-nie...?"

"Disneyland.  Lot of people used to live there.  You'll have everything you
need."

"How many live there now?"  I asked.

"When I left there were six children.  There was an incident across the
ocean.  Most died in the first wave of poison."  Then he looked to Sol,
"Stay with me.  The women like you, respect you.  We'll be alright."

Sol pinned him, "Why are you helping us?  Are you looking for a foothold
inside the fort for your own power?  You think you're the next Chosen One?"

"No.  The old woman, I suspect she's not really an old woman—but I can't
say what she is.  Something about her is peculiar.  She appears loving and
kind.  I've also seen her calculating side; she's cagey.  I think she's
ready to take over the fortress with a few of the guards.  Promising them
special positions later."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm the only doctor, Sol's the only sperm provider.  They can't lose us."

Grabbed Pierce, "Can you feel anything different about the old lady?  Is
she human?"

He started crying.  "I don't feel anything around her, nothing."

"What's wrong?"  Pulled him to me.

"Are they going to kill us?"  Pierce asked.

"They might kill you because we, well, we want you to grow up, make sperm
and we're not sure if you will."

He kept crying, distraught.  "This is my home."

Sterling lifted his chin, "Things might not work out for you.  Go."

Pierce rubbed his face on my chest, "Why do people want to kill me?  I
haven't done anything bad.  Now, I have to leave.  Had to leave Yakub, then
my sister, now our home."  His eyes filled with tears again.  "Now, I have
to leave Sol.  I thought you cut me so I could stay."

"We can't stay.  There won't be any peace here soon, we could be killed in
the next war."  I wanted a life with the boy, here or elsewhere.  Had to
take a chance further west.

Sol began gathered things, putting them in a bag and tied it around the
carved bamboo rod.  Then he made a smaller bag for Pierce to carry.  He
kissed me, then Pierce.  "Get as far away as you can tonight.  We'll say
you went east – back to the city."  Squash, nuts, grains and a jar of
water, we left under a full moon, hustling all night.  Western lookouts
would be scanning the horizon at sunrise.


After the Rush Part 6

Almost ran out of water crossing the low, flat sandy area between our
valley and the distant hills.  At the foothills, we found streams, but the
air was dry and dusty.  We continued on to the mountains and saw deer.
Made traps, snares; sometimes we got lucky with the lance.  Hills became
mountains, we trekked through valleys, sometimes following old roadways,
but there was game and food to forage.  We were tired, ready to give up but
had to push forward.  Didn't seem like we'd ever see another human again.
Our only comfort was with ourselves.

On those moonlit nights, we pleasured each other. After rinsing, Pierce
said he'd changed.  Pierce had changed, he grew a few inches, and his tiny
rod gained length and girth, he told me he had a hair.  Had to inspect
that.  Yes, he had one glimmering golden hair near his scrotum.  His one
testicle was growing larger.  Unexpectedly, where Sol removed the silicone
lump there was another lump forming.  It was sensitive, I wasn't allowed to
touch it.  Suck, lick and enjoy it while I fingered him, yes.  He liked
that.

"I'm going to be a man just like you."  He was proud.

"That's right, I don't know how, but you're growing up."  I sharpened the
knife blade sitting on a rock ledge near him.

"When will you mate me like you did with Sol?"

I wasn't sure he was big enough.  "When you make sperm, you'll be big
enough.  That's what my dad taught me."

He stood in front of me and rubbed his rod until a droplet of juice
glimmered, "Is that enough?"

Almost cried as I pulled him against me—he was almost a man. Without
words, he straddled my lap, arms around my neck and nestled his face by
mine.  When he kissed me, my hard shaft bobbed, nudging his small sac; he
leaned back and smiled.  Feet beside my thighs on the warm rock, he grabbed
my hair and lifted himself a few inches, looking into my eyes.

One hand sneaked around his hips, my fingers held his cleft open, the other
squeezed between us to rub my juice along his cleft.  I looked into his
eyes holding the head at his hole.  His tight muscles clenched several
times in welcome.

Our lips together, he began struggling as he lowered himself onto me.  Cool
air on my dick, heated hole at the tip, I sighed.  He kept struggling, I
held my pole against him.  Couldn't hurt my Pierce, "That's enough for
now."

He shook his head, took a deep breath and quickly let his weight drop him
down on me a few inches.  He wailed for a moment, but pulled himself
together and looked me in the eyes, kissed me again.  Slowly through the
next moments, he eased me further into his heat.  Not all of me.

I lay back, giving him more space to move.  Over his shoulder a gibbous
moon rose, lighting the skin glistening with moisture as he moved slowly
and carefully until he found his place above me.  Staying still, this was
his moment, he offered himself to me; his first.  Beautiful, smooth muscles
bulged around his lengthening bones, my rod was deep inside him, slippery
and hard.  Found a place where he could twitch his thigh muscles and rub
him toward his orgasm.  My hand on his rod, the other cupping his sac, I
carefully massaged, and slowly stroked his cock.  He had juice, more came,
then the rapid pulses of his cum.  My fingers found it.  The taste was
weak, almost sweet but the strength of a man would soon replace it.

Hunched my hips into the never-touched places inside him and told him I
loved him as my face contorted, my rod twitched and my body tensed with
full release inside him.  Chest to chest, I never felt closer to him.  He'd
just given me the gift I gave my father years ago.  Quiet moments felt
sacred.

...

As minimal as our hillside home with Sol was—it was a palace compared to
being on the run.  Cold winds came, we patched our sandals, covered
ourselves with the few rags we had.  Occasionally we found a cave, but
mostly we erected a simple lean-to at night.  At around twelve moons out,
crossing the wide, green valley.  This salty water ocean was just through
the mountains.

We passed cabins, mostly looted and burned, scrapped what we could.
"They'd want us to take what we could to survive." Pierce said.

Two more moons of following cracked, empty roadways we stopped, looked out
ahead to the blue of the ocean.  "We're here."

The worst was ahead.  Had to figure out if who would be an ally, who an
enemy or another Chosen One in the making.  There were live humans out
here, signaled by smoke from fires, encampments in the distance.  Had to be
cautious.  As we sneaked into the outskirts of another burned town, we
found a creek to follow figuring it led to the ocean.

...

Cautiously and slowly we moved west until one afternoon we smelled food.  I
believe we smelled bread with roasting meat.  Smelled good.  Pierce and I
wended through the low scrub, closed in on a small cleared area with a fire
burning in the center, only one man standing near it.  We waited, who else
would come?  That one skinny man bustled around a small fire pit, cooking
on a spit and flat piece of metal.  He had a dog, old, scruffy, canine who
slept nearby.  He sang, I didn't understand the words.

Suddenly he stopped.  "Come out.  I won't hurt you."

Pierce and I looked at each other then back to the man.  The man looked to
the bushes, and lay a long, curved blade aside the fire pit, "Not armed.
No one but me and Rugger here."  He stretched his arms out.

Pierce moved forward, "C'mon, he's alone."

The thin man burst into song, "Rugger the dog, Rugger the dog, Rugger is my
lover, Rugger the dog."  I was confounded, but the dog sat up and wagged
his tail.

"Go get `em Rugger."  The man pulled several large flat metal discs from a
junk pile, "Guests tonight."

Rugger didn't move too fast, he sniffed, and slowly approached Pierce and
sat in front of him.  Pierce leaned to pet the dog, then followed him to
the old man by the fire.

"Hungry boy?  Tell your friend to come.  Plenty of food tonight."  He
pulled roasted corn from the embers, "Unwrap it first."  Then he scraped
the roasted carcass of a bird off the spit.  Took a big piece of bark, lay
the roasted carcass on it and shoved a jug of water at Pierce.

Pierce didn't need any more of an invitation, he dug into the hot food,
watching how the old man ate the corn off the cob.  They were sitting near
the fire, I approached.  The old man grinned, handed me a metal disc and
nodded to the fire.

Dug into the corn, it smelled so good, few bites of meat.  The bird was
greasy, felt good on my tongue.  "You alone?"  I choked out as I peeled
back the husks of the corn.

"Yep.  Hope you don't mind eating with the senseless ol' fart from See-mee.
Actin' looney keeps the hooligans away.  Run around hollering prophecies,
dancin' and tellin' `em I'm god, ranting and raving about hell.  They leave
me alone.  I'm not worth anything to them."  He sighed, "I'm too old and
I've seen too much to join them."

"So your name is God?"  Pierce asked.

"Yep, and this is my garden of eatin'.  I was hungry for a long time.
Ain't no more."  As the embers died, he told us of earthquakes and
frightened people from the north.  Said he heard there was ship hovering
overhead, bright as day above the bay.  Colored ribbons came from it, and
masses hurrying to enter the craft.  "It may be hard here, but this is my
home; ain't gonna leave."  The old man fed his dog and petted him, "Lonely
sometimes, but Rugger and I get along."

Before we went to sleep, he took us to the beach, we washed in the cold
water.  "Don't we have to clean the dishes?"  I asked.

"Funniest thing.  Don't have to worry about germs, seems the incident
across the ocean killed the worst—hard to get sick out here."

...

We stayed with god-man.  He wasn't rattled, but a wily fellow, he knew the
land and how to survive.  His feigned lunacy built a fortress keeping out
the thieves and rowdies.

God-man lived aside a huge junk yard, huge—lots of wheels and metal,
wires, plastic and glass; mountains of it.  He said he found it that way,
all stacked inside a gated area.  There was a shed full of tools.  Pierce
and I stayed two full moons building a small, two-wheeled cart.  Every
afternoon, we went to the beach and foraged food, set funnel traps for fish
in the shallows.  Abalones were good, but chewy.  Life was easier, we
helped god-man plant squash, pop-seeds and sticky nuts.

We were no longer haggard and thin, but strong and our faces were full.
Best part of our nights was spent around the fire.  God-man told us all
he'd seen in his life on the coast, he came from the south where they spoke
a mixed-up language.

As the third full moon neared, we bathed and came back to enjoy a rich
stew.  Food was so good with god-man, I didn't want to leave.  The eunuch's
coin was in a pouch with my knife, I pulled it out and showed the old man,
"We were told to go here."

He examined it by the light of the fire, turning it over several times, "My
eyes can't read anything that small.  What does it say?"

Pierce read the letters, "D. I. S. N. E..."

"Oh!"  The old man's face smiled widely. "I know what you're talking about!
The fantasy-place.  Maybe everything's used up now, there were lots of
people down there.  Good land, good water and sunshine most every day."  He
stopped suddenly.  "Mostly kids now from what I heard.  Don't know what
happened to the adults... could have been anything, maybe another war."

He grabbed Pierce's arm, pulled him close and kissed him.  They were groped
each other, "What happened to your balls, boy?  They don't match."

"I got cut."  Pierce shoved his small wrinkled skin to the side, "It's
still healing.  The other one's good."

"His growth was slow."  I sat beside them, "He had several hard times when
he was a kid." Glanced at Pierce.

"All that matters is being alive and, being here."  The old man pressed
Pierce's body against his.

"He's perfect to me just the way he is."  I glanced at god-man's leaking
shaft, "Doesn't seem to bother you."

I watched them kiss and my Pierce was worshipped by god-man to the dismay
of Rugger.

...

The day of parting our small cart was filled with food, water and the old
man gave us a machete, showed us how to use it to harvest the cactus and
their fruits.  Told us we could come back if we couldn't find what we
needed, "You're always welcome."

God-man warned us: "Don't follow the beach. It gets too rocky in some
places and you can't cross the rivers."  He told us to stay on an old
highway, "Marked as one-oh-one.  Cross the rivers on the bridges at night.
Never during the day, you don't know who's watching, ready to kill you and
take what you have.  Haven't heard of that happening recently, but when one
gang goes down, another comes up."


After the Rush Part 7

We kept the highway in sight, moving southward.  Some places it was obvious
there were intricate structures at one time, pipes stuck up from the
ground, surrounded by rubble.  Tried to stay hidden, and it was impossible
along the stretches.  Didn't hear or see anyone and continued south toward
Disneyland.

That night, we squeezed the sweet water from an agave and stewed nopales.
Again, Pierce told me again he didn't like traveling all the time, "We
never know what's ahead, I'm afraid it'll be worse than crossing the
plains.  I want a home."

We'd made a home for each other in our hearts, "I'll always be beside you,
and I'm tired of traveling too.  Somehow, we'll find a place and make it
ours."

Hope alone fueled our spirits.

...

The funny design on the coin began showing up more often along the
roadside, on signs and painted or carved into what was left standing.
These had been put there within the last six or eight months I
figured—the sun hadn't faded them away.

Like god-man said, we found trees heavy with fruit, cut one orange fruit
open to find juicy, sweet meat.  In the distance, we heard dogs barking
occasionally, there were small animals in the bushes.  We'd never seen a
cat, but heard them screaming and fighting at night.

After so many months, something good was going to happen soon.  Moved on to
see more of the figures from the coin, painted brightly, though somewhat
crude.  Someone had made these signs for us?

...

Pierce saw signs with arrows directing us, bigger signs.  No one around, we
walked the old road directly across a cracked asphalt expanse to a gate.
"Disneyland" above a tall, iron gate welcomed us.

We saw a huge complex of different buildings, walkways, fountains, tables
with seating, trees and flowers.  Upon close inspection through the bars we
saw there were strange contraptions everywhere.  Nothing moved, only the
sounds of nature.  Only the palm leaves fluttering in the breezes.

Cautiously, we climbed a low spot in the wall and coursed the narrow
passages filled with colors and statues.  Sunny, warm, place that was made
for habitation.  We could smell humans, couldn't see them until Pierce did
something odd, he began singing the ant song.  Did a few cartwheels right
in front of a big water fountain.

A child peeked out of the foliage, then another.  Then, another.  We stared
at each other.  They were between three and ten, none older—about ten
small children.  All naked, all had different colors of skin, from pale
ivory to dark ebony, different kinds of hair, what a collection stared back
at us in wonder.  They were looking at a man with a red beard, long, matted
hair and Pierce, head of shining curls tied with behind his neck; both in
awe.

A young girl around nine stepped forward, "Who are you and what do you want
here?"

Pulled out the coin from my knife sheath and showed her.  "We were told to
come here by a man named Sterling.  Do you know him?"

The girl ran off, the others gathered around us closely, two showed up
pulling our cart behind them, "Come with us, we have food and water."

A tiny child took my hand, then Pierce' hand leading us toward a shaded
area with tables.  "Wait here."  As soon as they left, several older boys
shut us in collapsible metal bars—we were caged in the small area.
Tricked!

We started yelling but the children did bring water and flat, round disks
of bread and slices of a pale green fruit.  That night a group of older
children came and inspected us.  No questions, they just looked and left.

At dawn the next day, we were interrogated by two of the older children, a
boy and a girl, "Why are you here?"

"We lost our home, now we're refugees.  A friend told us to come here.  We
have a coin..."  He nodded; he didn't believe me.  "Do you have a leader or
someone we can speak with?  We don't bring trouble; we're looking for a
peaceful place to make a home."

Pierce asked the girl to bring the walking stick from our cart, "Cane with
carvings."  He explained each notch, telling the children how far we'd
come, and that we couldn't go back to Oh-má-ha.

"Did you meet god?"  The boy asked.

"If you mean the old man with the dog, yes.  He was good to us."  Pierce
smiled.  "Why?"

"He eats people.  He's crazy."

"Well, he didn't eat us.  That's his secret to protect himself.  He wants
to stay in his home with his garden and his dog."

"What do you want here?"  The girl spoke again.

"We want to talk to your leader."  Suddenly I realized that I was already
speaking with the leaders.  I stopped myself.

"Can you read?"  One boy had a paper in his hand.

"Yes."  He shoved the paper at me.  "My dearest," I began, "Jesus.  I have
loved you since before you were born.  My beautiful son, I will love you
wherever I am.  Our sickness will take us but I am in your heart.  Be
strong.  Your loving Poppi, Raphael."

The boy ran away in tears.

The girl was tearful, but continued.  "You can read.  What else can you
do?"

Pierce said we could write, add numbers—we built houses, simple houses,
and made gardens with delicious foods, we wove mats, "Lots of things.  We
had to learn to survive with only our knives and our intuition."

"Leave.  If you come back alive in one month, you can stay."

"Why one month, how about a week?"  I asked.

"It takes a month for the adults to get sick and melt.  If you're still
alive, you can stay here until we decide."

They took us to the gate, shoved us outside closing it behind us and tossed
us our machete.

...

Took us a day to get to the ocean, we dived for abalone till we learned the
tides receded.  One night, millions of fish came to the shore in the
moonlight, we roasted them on sticks for several nights, eating high.

Cool nights, we scrapped a lean-to and slept with the ocean roaring.  Every
morning we checked each other for spots or signs of illness.  Enjoyed
swimming and playing in the surf.  We could have stayed there forever, and
talked about it until something we saw a spot on the ocean's horizon.  It
got bigger.  A ship, ragged and funny looking, neared shore.

Tatty, tattered vessel, looked hand-made with sails and funny flags waving.
We hid as it splashed into the shoals.  Men got off and walked to the
beach, singing and laughing.  They built a fire and danced around it naked,
singing and cavorting with each other.

"I've heard of pirates."  Whispered to Pierce.

"Pirates are soldiers?"

"More like thieves, they kill to loot for themselves.  Wonder what they're
looking for."

The next day, Pierce and I climbed up on the cliff to watch.  Two men
stayed; the boat left.  Two men fashioned a lean-to near the beach and
slept.  We sneaked closer, sensing something unusual.  One of them began
singing in the night as they sat near their fire, sang about an enchanted
boy.

"Sol!  Sol!"  Pierce ran toward them.

Sterling, Sol and Pierce embraced, laughing.  Pierce stepped back, looking
at Sol, "I can't believe it's you, something different about you."  He
shook that thought away and kissed them both.

Warm, tearful reunion as I joined them, "Never expected to see you two
again.  How did...  The boat?  What happened?"

We walked the beach as Sterling told the tale: "Maps I'd studied were no
longer accurate; oceans rose to cover the land, quakes, erosion, natural
disasters reformed landmasses, rivers and coastlines--everything."  The few
survivors created transportation routes in search of food and shelter.
Vaniumes cornered the market in the plains with rafts, they took us to
Arizone.  From there we rode a barge, then a sailed from Diego."

"See many people?"

Sterling counted on his fingers, "We met about twenty, thirty.  Six men
crew the boat.  Did you see many?"

"Met an old man up north.  Heard a few people on our way here.  They're
children in Disney."

"Why didn't you stay with them?"  Sol asked.

"We got kicked us out for a month.  Seems adults get sick and die—told
us to come back if we survived."

...

Scavenged for what we could find and roasted it, found sweet water and
walked a short way inland to make shelter.

 Around the campfire that night, Sterling and I figured the kids had been
in Disney for eight or nine years, "Maybe longer, hard to know."

Whatever killed the adults swept through though leaving enough time for
parents to take their children to their compound.  If the boy couldn't
read, he was left around four or five years ago.  There were no adolescents
or teens in Disney.

...

To our sorrow, Sterling told us the Zoner nation split, fought.  Life
inside the fortress ended in a bloodbath, only one guard left to sit beside
the old woman as she died, "Don't try to take a child from its mother.  The
old woman wanted the children penned while the women build up the valley,
expanded their compound and build a monument."  My children, Sol's children
were killed, all their work was for nothing.

"When the war started, Sol left for the old city, I sneaked out and joined
him."  Sterling looked at our sad faces, "We had it good for a while."

As he spoke, I felt the need to write down his words as a new world
history.  Yet it would be the same world history, the old world history
we'd learned and lived.

...

Had a lot on my mind that night, but drew Pierce close, kissed him.  He
didn't respond though his eyes were open.  "Sense danger?"

He turned away, I believe he said, "It's here."

Sterling came to me, his beard, his hands, those long fingers felt good.
Pulled me on top of him, smiling, and felt him envelope my hard shaft with
kisses.  He was so smooth and warm, pinching my nipples, telling me he
missed me, wanted to see me again.  Rode me in great style, his hot channel
begging for my cum, his muscles gripping my rod.  Filled him once, then
later after we calmed.

Pierce watched silently from the dark.  We'd woken Sol who pulled Pierce to
him.  Pierce got up and left, slept on the beach away from us.


After the Rush Part 8

Pierce and I got back in Disney.  Sol and Sterling came, were turned away
for a month.  They did return, anxious to be inside the gates.

Life was good at Disney, Sterling told us lots of things about the place
before it closed.  Told us stories about dwarves and princesses, lions and
fish.  Kept everyone spellbound for hours.

Rusty at first, but Pierce and I remembered how to play, enjoyed every
afternoon hiding and finding each other with the children.  Eating was a
loud, messy affair, kids picked avocados, shared them along with fruits.
They used big gray cylindrical bins on wheels, brought food, took the trash
and dumped it themselves.  Children had spats during meals, yet were too
small, too hungry to stay at it.  They worked their problems out and were
soon playing again.

...

The boy, Jesus came to me and asked me to read the letter from his father
again.  He always cried.  Put my arm around him, "Tell me what
happened—how you got here."

Told me of living on the east side of the hills with his parents until his
father left, he wasn't sure why.  His mother became ill after the incident.
"Mom got a grocery cart, packed my things and brought me here.  Just a few
other kids then."

Sometimes big people brought babies, he said a few of them lived.  "If they
die, we take the bodies far across the squares."  He meant across the wide
expanse of cracked asphalt painted with stripes "Now I teach the little
kids.  All the older kids teach before we go."

"When will you leave?"

"When my part drips."  He pointed to his short cock.  Must mean puberty.

"What do you teach them?"

"Wash your hands, poop in the holes and no hitting."

"Who taught you about eating and cleaning up?"

"Hunger and our noses mostly."  He looked me in the eye, "We have to stay
inside the gates, they protect us.  Then we leave when it's time, can't
come back."

"Why?"

"It's how we love the kids here and the ones who will come.  Always been
that way."  He paused, thinking.  "It's our way.  We've given you food and
protection, don't try to change our ways or hurt us.  Happened before.  We
won't allow it."

"I apologize.  Meant no disrespect."  As he walked away.

...

Overpopulation, jealousy, power plays, manipulations were all avoided;
simple rules for young minds.  No estrogen or testosterone-fueled dramas to
start skirmishes that led to wars.  Kids were all healthy and fed, had a
few happy years.

I imagined they formed or joined the gangs after they left.  Only the
strong and most clever would survive outside.  Natural selection combined
with compassion for the youngest; had to wonder who devised this.  Didn't
matter, this was their way and seemed to be working.

Older, wiser, I considered all my father taught me, all I'd seen and
learned.  Thoughts kept coming back to Pierce.  Had a dependable, loving
partner in Pierce and he wanted a home with me.  Considered making a place
at the beach, or going back to god-man's place.  Our position, our ages put
us in a dicey situation at Disney.  We could be forced out unexpectedly.

...

Sterling and Pierce helped carry a ladder for picking fruit.  Sol and I
went to bring water with the cart, on the way he suggested we all stay at
Disney, "You know, we could make enough children to run the place for us.
A true paradise.  All we could ever want, right here.  I'm going to try to
convince them to let the girls stay, build the place up.  I'll be their
loving father."

"Won't work, they're determined to keep their rules; this is their home.
They're happy, even when they leave—it's how they love each other.
They're set up to insure peace for the youngest."

...

The next morning, Sol didn't wake up; heavy branch on his neck had crushed
his throat.  Easily and quietly done during the night.  Sterling, Pierce,
the children and me had no expressions as we pulled his body to the cart.
Took it to the edge of the parking lot and left it beside an adult
skeleton.  Gold chain around its neck bones, gold rings under the bones of
the fingers.

Another Chosen One.


End

After the Rush


Inspired by James Taylor's "After the Gold Rush."