Morgan: Chapter 3 (Reader Release) (Patreon)

Alright, Chapter 4 is out for the Plus folks so here's 3 for the rest of ya.  Enjoy.

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You follow along about three strides behind Morgan and her pack beast, trying to stay out of her way yet also ready to do anything she asks of you.  Life had just plunged you into a vast dark ocean with not a single island of hope in sight. But it had tossed you a life preserver in the form of this snowy haired woman.  Through her grace and her grace alone you had found your one and only chance of survival.  You would not jeopardize that chance for anything and so you would follow along without fuss and do whatever you were told.

As you walk through the ruined corpse of the city you loved you find yourself more focused on the backside of your savior than the landscape around you.  The reasons were twofold.  First your fragile sanity simply could not bear to linger on the devastation of what was once so familiar.  The corner where that weird one-eyed vendor served out hot dogs and political diatribes in equal measure, the little flower shop with the cute redhead behind the counter, the upscale apartments with the chatty doorman, that funny little area between buildings with the crazy acoustics where that Turkish dude would sing opera, all those wonderful places and faces…gone.  The second reason you could not look away was an awesome fascination and powerful attraction to this survivor of this apocalyptic reality.

As she moved her head was alway slowly on the move back and forth, her eyes darting to every noise and shadow, in a state of constant alert.  Things you felt concerning she would ignore and other things you thought innocuous she would hone in on and change the beast’s course so that you all would avoid it.  While the heightened state was clearly defensive in nature it gave the air of a predator on the prowl for prey.  That hint of danger only added to her intense sexual charisma.  She was undeniably gorgeous by any standard but that was only the tip of the iceberg for her allure.  You already had a thing for older women.  You already had a thing for tall, athletically built women.  You already had a thing for a confident woman in control of herself and her environment.  This Morgan combined all of that and stirred a few other unique spices into the pot you didn’t even realized you desired.  She was…incredible!

The clouds darken and the frigid rain eventually turns to sleet.  Dressed for a hot day of cycling you are soon left shivering.  Under the scant bent roof of a rusting bus shelter Morgan stops and pulls a rolled pelt of what might have been a deer, though in this world you suspected it was something far more ghastly.  She unrolls it and drapes it over your shoulders, wrapping the fur tightly around your torso.  You clutch it tightly to you and whisper.  “Thank you.”  She gives you a nod and a not quite smile then the group of you carry on without comment.  She was pushing the pace, racing to arrive at her camp before the weather got much worse.

Physically you were well and you have no trouble keeping up.  In fact you were thankful for it as the constant movement and hard pace help to keep your body warm and your mind distracted.  Just as Morgan had told you the itching and pink splotching that had been irritating your palms had practically cleared up to nothing inside of an hour.  Though you were ready to help in anyway you could she asks nothing of you, though you could sense the relief in the woman each time she looked back to check on you to find you right there and eager to keep pressing.

After what seemed like endless sprawling blocks of lifeless crumbling ruins, generally always East though with many detours thanks to the destruction and upheavals, you begin to wonder the time and whether it was the same time here as where you came from.  Pulling out your phone you see that wasn’t even 11 am.  It felt like a week ago that Scrumpy had pawed you awake to feed him.

“Shut it down!”  Morgan’s sharp tone causes you startle and nearly drop it.  She glares, her violet gaze drilling into yours.  “Now!”

“Oh!  Uh, yeah.”  You fumble to turn off your phone.  “Sorry.”

“It will attract attention.”  She says in a calmer tone.  “Do you have any other electronics on you?”

“Um…no.”  As the phone shuts down you hold it, not quite sure on what to do with it.

“Hold onto it.”  She says.  “We can use it as bait.”

“Right.  Bait.”  You mutter and pocket it away.

She turns and gives her beast’s horn a firm push.  “Come on.”  The pace is picked up even more.

Sleet turns into driving wet snow.  A July blizzard?  Crazy.  But was it even July?  Pelt wrapped as tight as you could make it and your head bent against the wind you keep plodding one foot in front of the other.  Soon the snow had collected enough to see Morgan’s tracks and the black shaggy fur of her pack animal slowly became caked in white.

It is maybe another half an hour later when you nearly walk into the back of Morgan after she had stopped without warning.  Turning to her mount she wastes no time in starting to unstrap items and pull supplies down off of it.

“We’re here.”  She says.

Looking around you find yourself an entirely unremarkable residential street, the hollow remains of decaying rowhousing lining the street on both sides.

“Oof!”  You are jostled as a set of heavy canvas saddlebags are thrust against your chest.

You grab them and hug them to your body.  As you stand there Morgan loops other bags around your neck or across your shoulder as if she were in the process of trading one pack animal for another.  Once you were loaded she hauls off the rest and sets it on the ground then unfastens the harness that had been carrying it all from the beast’s humped back.  Reaching into a pocket she pulls a handful of brown strips out and shoves her hand straight in amongst the creature’s writhing tentacles.  Sounds of smacking and chewing soon follow.  She pats the creature’s head then stands and takes up the items from the ground to take her fair share of the load.

You look back and forth between her and it as each go their separate way before hurrying to catch up to Morgan.  “You’re letting it go?”

“He’ll be around.”  She says without concern.

With you right behind her she climbs the front stairs of one of the houses and then enters through the open doorway.  The upper stories and roofs of the rowhousing had collapsed ages ago leaving the inner area just a shell open to the sky.  Amongst the rubble though a clear path had been made and it was along this path she walked.  You walk through what was once a living room and kitchen then down a set of stairs to a metal security door that would have matched the decor of this house when it was in use.  Based on the rough way the door frame was adjoined to the wall of the stairwell it was clear that this was a later addition.  From a pocket Morgan produces a ring of keys.  She flips through them to find the one she was after and unlocks the padlock that hung from just above the door’s latch.

Swinging the door open Morgan cautiously peers through into the darkness.  “Anyone home?”  Silence is the only reply.  “Damn.”  She sighs.

Stepping through she silently sets down her load then moves to the right.  A moment later there is the flare of a match being struck and a moment after that the warm glow of a candle.

“Get in.”  She tells you.  You follow inside and set your burden beside hers.  As you do so she lights a few more candles then moves to close the door and padlock it again from this side.

As the illumination grows from the table beside the door you glance nervously around to find yourself in a nearly empty basement.  No, not a basement.  Many.  You notice that the far wall had a hole knocked through it to give access to the basement of the next house and you could just barely make out that the wall beyond that had also been opened up into the next one yet.  Beyond the candles all was the deepest dark.  Thankful for the shelter from the snow and the bone chilling wind you are nevertheless uneasy.

“There could be more of those things.”  You whisper as your sight strains to pierce the darkness.

“We’re safe.”  Morgan says with reassuring calm.  She nods to a corner and holds one of the candles toward it where you see something spackled against the wall. To your eye it had the organic pattern of some sort of fungal or mold growth.  “Nothing magical has been through here in a long while.  They would be glowing otherwise.”  She leans closer to the corner.  “Droppings.  Rats found their way in here.”  She begins to scan around.  “My good luck charm is already working.”

“Rats are good luck?”

She tosses you the box of matches which you catch purely from instinct.  “There’s a fireplace in the next unit over.  I’m going to look around.”

“Uh, right, sure Morgan.”

Taking one of the candles you walk cautiously into the next basement over to find a cozy den that had made it through the end of the world relatively in tact.  The carpet was worn, the furniture frayed, but overall it was the closest thing to normal you had seen since your arrival.  As you are taking it in Morgan walks briskly past you into the next house over and carries on moving, checking each room in turn.  There must have been a dozen of these basements that had been connected like this.  Along the North wall you find the fireplace.  It had been adapted to be used as a cook fire with a spit, a hooked chain hanging from above to hold a pot, and a nearby grill which could placed over it.  Beside it was a floor to ceiling and wall to wall stack of dry and already split wood and kindling along with reams of books, cardboard, paper, and anything that could be used as starter.  Eager to make yourself useful you busy yourself in building a fire.

By the time that you have a nice crackling flame Morgan was back with a skewer of five sizable gray rodents.  “They got into one of the supply lockers.”  She says.  “But hey, fresh meat.”

“Uh…yeah.”

She kneels down at your side, slapping your shoulder.  “Don’t turn up your nose.  This will be fine dining soon enough.”

“Morgan…?”

“You have questions.”  She says as she lays the skewer down on the floor, the nearest of the rats still twitching.  “But I don’t have answers for you.  And the ones I have wouldn’t mean anything anyway.  This world is hell and it wants you dead.  That’s all you need to know.”

“But…”

“Yes, there are monsters.  Yes, there is magic.  No, there isn’t a way back.  No, there’s nobody out there thats going to help us.”

“There’s got to be…”

“Listen Ashe, the sooner you focus on the now the easier this is going to be.  Whatever you left behind, it’s gone.  It’s not coming back.”  She says bluntly, in a way that told you that this wasn’t the first time she’d said all this.  “Focus on living.  It’s all that matters here.”

“Alright.”  You say, perturbed at her avoidance of deeper answers.  “This is your camp?”

“It’s a camp.  One of many.”  She says.  “I haven’t been here in awhile.  Doesn’t look like anybody has been for awhile.  I’ll check the logbook once we’re settled.”

“So there are others?”

“Yeah.  There were two families living here last time I was through.”  That sort of non-smile smile teases at the edge of her lips.  “Three kids.  Three!  Sharp as tacks they were.  Healthy too.  Good strong kids.”

“That’s important?”  You say.  “You were asking about my…virility.  That’s important here?  Having children?”

“Important?”  She snorts a humorless laugh.  “Ashe, it’s everything.  For those of us who still have faith that there’s a future for us it’s all we got.”

“Future?”  You shake your head.  “You still have hope in a place like this?”

“I never said hope Ashe.  Hope died a long time ago.”

As you tend the fire Morgan finds a tub and a skinning knife.  As she gets a pot of water starting to boil she butchers the five rats right there in the light of the fire.  You are forced to excuse yourself as the sight of it coming so quickly after the brutality of your arrival turns your stomach.  Taking your pelt you retreat back into far end of the room and slump down into the lumpy sofa.  You lay your head back and stare into the ceiling without really seeing it.

“I know it’s not easy.”  Morgan says.  “It’s better not to think about it.”  With bloody fingers she produces a hand-rolled cigarette from her breast pocket and lights it by the candle.  She takes a drag and blows a billow of smoke out of both nostrils like some fire-breathing dragon.  “There’s some whiskey in the supplies if you need to block it out.”

“No.”  You whisper.  “I want to stay present.”

“Smart lad.”  She pulls the skin from the flesh of one of the unfortunate rats with a sickening squelch.  “Might be a good time to rub one out.”

You look at her like she were mad.  “Excuse me?”

“You’ll have to tonight at some point.  Now’s as good a time as any. Might help you relax and take your mind off things.”  She nods across to a door.  “Go in there if you need privacy.  There were some titty mags in there last I was here.”

“What?”

“Save the cum though.  I can use it.”

“Use it?  If this is some kind of joke on the new guy…”

“No joke Lucky.”  She says matter-of-factly.  “I wish it were.  I told you them fecund little nuts o’ yours is the greatest treasure you got.  In this world Ashe, you use it or you lose it.”

“What?”

“And the more you use it the slower you lose it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The magic of this place.”  She says as the column of ash grows at the end of her smoke.  “It isn’t just after life but potential life.  If it can’t kill you outright it will drain your vitality and potency instead.”  She takes another deep drag and blows it out through her nose, her violet eyes focused on her knife work.  “We fight it by staying active.  Physically, mentally, sexually and otherwise.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I was joking Ashe.”  She says.  “I’ve met men your age already struck impotent.  Guys are particularly prone.  Eggs seem much more resilient than sperm, for whatever reason.  Semen’s gotta stay fresh and flowing.  Bust two or three a day and you’ll be okay.  One at the very least.”

“You actually expect me to…masturbate?  Now!?”

“It’s for your own good.”  She shrugs.  “If you’re going to be traveling with me you’re keeping your equipment in working order.  You wanna give up and go blank you’re on your own kid.  I survived too damn long to waste my time with a quitter.”

You sit and ponder.  It all seemed so ridiculous!  After being wrenched from your own world, seeing nightmarish monsters and magic, watching a friend of yours be killed in front of your eyes, barely escaping the slaughter, and trudging through a snowstorm…she expected you to fap!?  Here?  Now?  You look down at your crotch then back to her in disbelief.  “How the hell am I supposed to…?”

“Get in the mood?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes that isn’t a luxury you’re going to have.”  She squints against the smoke of the shortening cigarette.  The drooping ash drops into the tub but she pays it no mind.  “I’ve had to rub my shit out in the most fucked up places.  It’s gotta be done though.  Survivors find a way.”  She looks over to you with a crooked grin.  “I’ll be glad to have a little eye candy tonight though.”

Leaning forward you bury your face in your hands.  “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it kid.  And appreciate the fact that your shooting live rounds.  You can’t take that shit for granted here.”  She says.  “If you need help I can give ya a hand after dinner.”

“Help?  A hand?  Are you suggesting…?”

“I’m saying that you’ve had a hell of a day kid.  Worst fucking day of your life.”  Her voice softens.  “And sometimes it’s nice to have someone do it for you when you can’t for yourself.”

Was she actually offering what you think she’s offering!?  “This can’t be real.  I’ve got to be dreaming.”

“Make it a wet dream then.”

“Morgan…”

“Go!  Go on.  You’ll feel better.”  She urges.  “Do it right there if you want.”  With a sly smirk she quips.  “Can’t promise I won’t watch though.”  Just as you look over she spits the cigarette into the guts and gore collected by the tub and holds up five red glistening headless, skinless, gutless bodies held together by the tails.  “We’re eating good tonight kid.”

“HRK!”  You turn away as the sight nearly makes you retch.  Swallowing hard you focus on keeping down your breakfast as behind you there is some motion followed by the sizzle of fresh meat roasting over the fire.

Chapter 4