Scavengers: July (6 page)

“This is the end, isn’t it! It wasn’t worth shit!” shouted James with anger and a sense of failure. He would now die here and his wife and son would never get the life they deserved!

Ira breathed angrily and shook his head. He seemed to be lost in thought.

“Promise you will get some of the jewels to my family! Promise!” James grabbed him by the front of his jacket, looking him in the eyes with determination.

“You said there's a blacksmith,” the other man sighed. It seemed his train of thought was different from James’. “Take me there.”

James nodded his head and went forward, right to a small, but sturdy door. “The ladder is there,” he said in a suddenly quiet voice. He didn’t want to be, but he was also frightened. What would happen to him? Would he get sick first? For now, a weird sensation of stiffness spread all over his body. Was that fear or the first symptom?

“Block the door,” said Ira, walking around the dark room. It only had two small windows and a large two-leaf door that presumably could be opened, but they would not risk it. He gathered some dry wood, paper and other things that could burn easily and began to stoke a fire and soon, James saw the flicker of a flame. Strangely, Ira seemed much more focused on this task, than on finding the jewels.

James looked at him blankly. “A fire?” he raised his eyebrows and rigged the door with a big log of wood. “In the attic, there is another way down, through a latch in the floor,” he explained, “but you will need to jump.”

“Yeah, fire. You’re not dead yet,” Ira said calmly, shooting James a long gaze. “I ‘eard it might ‘elp if you burn the scratch”.

“What...?” James’ eyes opened wider as he stood leaning on the door. He met Ira’s gaze, as the man picked up a metal rod from a hanger on the wall and put its end into the fire.

“You wanna live?” he asked.

“Yes...” James whispered, feeling no power to argue. He took off his leather gloves and touched his face as his body was becoming cold with fear.

“Now you clean it off,” Ira commanded, gesturing towards a water pump at the other end of the room, which was already becoming hot from the rising flames.

James moved towards the pump to clean his face. Fortunately it was still working. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked quietly, relieved at the cool sensation of fresh water on his skin and tongue.

“No, but it’s worth a try” the other man said, opening his leather jacket and placing it on a dusty table.

Upon hearing those words James became more frightened and found it harder and harder to breathe. “Did you ever see it work?” he whined as his eyes focused on the metal rod in the fire.

The other man shook his head, stripped completely and folded his clothes into a neat pile. “But I saw it done” he answered, apparently hoping this would cheer James up.

“You’ve never seen it work!?” James shouted, his body starting to shake uncontrollably. “What is this!? Some kind of sick torture before I die!?”

Ira took a deep breath and walked in his direction. “How can I know?! Not like I’m stayin' to see!” he spat, slightly frustrated.

James looked like a frightened animal, as he sat on a massive anvil, holding his face with his hands. He had no better idea for a course of action. And if it wouldn’t help, at least they would have tried something...

For now though, all he could do was watch Ira squatting by the water fountain to clean his powerful body. The man first splashed his face and ran his now cold fingers over his scalp. James’ gaze followed droplets of water trailing along the firm belly and thighs, and dripping to the ground from a rather large, meaty cock. Its wet head was uncovered and it almost shone in the dim light of the fire. Ira was breathing shakily, trying to get it over with as soon as possible, his body covered in goosebumps.

James went silent, admiring his tight muscles, wide shoulders and exotic tattoos. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t look down at the man's thighs and between his legs. All the adrenaline from what was about to happen and the excitement of seeing a handsome man naked melted into one as his heart pounded and he hunched a bit, with his arms folded. He couldn’t even gather his thoughts. The other man suddenly caught his eyes and his mouth curved into a slight smile.

“You do that too. We’re all sweaty n' all...” he trailed off, probably not wanting to mention the undead body fluids. He straightened his powerful body and stroked any place he could reach with his hand, as if trying to brush off the excess water. He didn’t need to be very thorough, as the room was getting hotter and he dried quickly.

James gave him a small nod and got up from the anvil, his legs feeling unpleasantly limp. The wait was killing him, so he took off his clothes quite fast, starting from the vest and shirt, showing Ira his pale, but firm body. He was in no way built like the former sailor, but his body wasn’t effeminate either: tall with naturally wide shoulders; slim but not thin thanks to fencing, horse riding and the outdoor activities he did as a young boy. He squatted by the pump, to unbuckle his shoes.

Somehow, with the silence, he almost physically felt Ira’s gaze trailing down his spine to his round backside. He momentarily felt a tight knot of nervousness in his stomach. He had never been around a man like that before, one who would look him up and down. Taking off all of his clothes and putting them to the side, James felt almost obscene as he knelt by the pump to clean himself. The sound of footsteps coming closer set his senses to alarm. The shadow he cast on the water pump lengthened, as Ira approached him from behind quietly. In an instant, James felt his heart flutter like a frightened, caged animal. He felt a warm hand brushing over his shoulder gently.

“You want me to pour water over you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine, I’ll manage,” he said, looking up. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Ira’s eyes were definitely on the hot side and he felt a flush traveling up his face at that discovery.

“You sure?” the man asked, putting another hand on his arm and kneading James’ flesh with his fingers.

“Yes...” he whispered, washing his face and hair, though feeling very stiff.

Ira sighed quietly, his hands never leaving the other man’s body. The back massage felt strange: wonderful and unnerving at the same time.

“Is the thing ready...?” asked James, standing up slowly and running his fingers through his wet, long hair. He didn’t want to give into this sensation now, with what they had to tend to.

“I guess so,” Ira answered and ran the back of his hand down the aristocrat’s spine, taking it away just as it reached the small of his back.

With every second, James felt more nervous. He was not used to being touched in this way and didn’t know what to make of it.

“Stay where you are” said Ira in a commanding tone, extracting the metal rod from the fire. It was now a blazing yellow.

“Maybe I’ll sit down?” James asked with a frightened voice. His stomach shrunk at the mere thought of it coming close to his skin.

“Against that wall,” Ira agreed, looking even more intimidating fully naked with a burning piece of metal in hand. “We cannot have you movin' away.”

James tried to be strong but looked up at him with glassy eyes. “I’ll try my best,” he whispered, his heart pounding so fast it felt as if it was about to leap out of his chest. The other man dropped to his knees straddling James’ lap and immediately took hold of his jaw forcing his mouth to close. Firmly but gently he pushed his head into the wooden panel behind him. Without giving the aristocrat a moment to react, he simply pressed the burning rod to his face.

James screamed out in shock and pain, grabbing at Ira’s arms with trembling fingers. His body was out of control. Tears he'd held back, where falling from his eyes. The smell of burning flesh filled his senses and he almost passed out, losing control over his shivering body, as the agonizingly hot metal touched him again and again. It felt as if long minutes had passed before it was taken away. Barely registering what was happening, James was pulled back to his knees and across to the water pump. Ira made him bend over beneath the broad faucet as a soothing splash of icy water caressed his body. James was gasping for air, not wanting to open his eyes. The burning sensation was still unbearable as he succumbed to the helpful coolness of water. The man’s muscles continued to tremble uncontrollably, but his mind was pretty much numb, as if it had tried to escape from the horror of what was happening. Even the hard, wet stones seemed comforting and soon, James realized that two large hands were stroking his bare flesh up and down. One hand held him upright, while the other slowly moved up the back of his thigh, stopping at his firm buttock, gently squeezing.

He was gasping for air, as he let his eyes drop open. “What are you doing?” he uttered, “Is it finished?”

“Thought you might fancy a little distraction,” Ira murmured, cradling him up into his arms, when James suddenly grabbed him in a strong, desperate hug, practically knocking the air out of his chest.

“I hope it works...,” he uttered next to Ira’s ear.

The man sighed, embracing him slowly and trailing James’ cheek with his warm tongue. “Hope they both do.”

“I’ve never been this close to a man...” said James slowly, still shivering, but forcing himself to look up at Ira’s eyes. “I always tried to be a good person.”

The other man breathed shakily and James saw his own reflection lighting up the dark gaze. “Aren’t you still?” he asked in a low voice...

“No... I have these dark dreams, that no man of good moral standing should have, and now all I want to do is give in to them!” His eyes were obsessively fixed on Ira. “If I am to die, I want to taste you before that happens...”

The other man stared at him unblinkingly for a long moment, before tracing the tip of his thumb over James’ open mouth. “I will let you taste me good,” he growled, continually squeezing his companion’s bottom in a gentle manner.

James nodded, his breath coming in heavy gasps. He had never been in such a position and now he felt that all he wanted to do is simply give in to the lust he had built up for years. If the burning didn’t work, he knew he would die in a matter of days, though he would probably be killed before he transformed into a zombie. Once again he hugged Ira’s strong, muscular body, trying to forget his pain in the embrace. He could hear his heart thumping loudly as his face lit up.

“You go upstairs, boy,” the man said finally, “Take our clothes and I will be right on to you.”

James smiled slightly, even though the skin on his neck still felt tender. The ladder for the room upstairs was hidden by a latch in the wooden ceiling, but wasn’t hard to reach. After taking all their clothes and his suitcase, James crawled upstairs quite swiftly and stood up to look around the massive attic. It had belonged to the blacksmith, so the quality of the interior was better than a regular servant’s room. On one side, it had a sloping ceiling, but the room itself was spacious, with a strong, wooden bed occupying the main space just below a large window. The glass was broken in one place, but otherwise, it seemed intact. By the other wall, stood a basic table with four chairs. It seemed as if frozen in time: covered with a cotton cloth and set for a meal. It looked as though the room's occupants had left in a hurry. Food was still on the plates and clear glass mugs where stained with a tea-colored residue. A sad, dried flower had remained in a small vase at the center of the table. As the man turned, he saw a smaller part of the attic, partially obscured by a blue curtain. The orange sunglow shone on another bed and some wooden toys were scattered on the floor. He walked there slowly, passing a much bigger, closed latch in the wooden floor. He remembered from his childhood that it was sometimes open, directly connected to the stables underneath. The room made him sad and nostalgic, but on the other hand, he felt lucky that he had survived, unlike so many others. He heard Ira climbing back and pulling the ladder up for safety.

“You want new bedding?” the man asked while studying the attic. “Must be here somewhere.”

“Yes, I’ve been here a few times as a kid.” James felt strangely liberated now that he stood there naked. He walked to a massive chest next to the bed and opened it. “My father gave it to them for their wedding.” Suddenly, he felt the other man’s presence behind him and was swiftly pulled into a warm embrace. The feel of a flaccid cock against his backside sent shivers down his spine.

“So,” Ira breathed in a low voice, kissing the nape of his neck, “Gonna have your first time on a wedding bedding? Sounds promising,” he murmured, stroking the other man’s arms gently.

James gasped, not really knowing if he was ready for this. His body on the other hand was all for it. Even the burning sensation on his jaw and neck seemed to fade in comparison. “You know I have a wife...,” he muttered, in an attempt to keep a bit of dignity. Feeling the prick behind him though, he knew where this was heading and he wasn’t really planning to take charge of the situation either.

“She ain't here,” Ira answered, taking hold of his hips with a grunt. “She couldn’t do what I will either. Doesn’t have a cock.” The way he said the last word almost made James moan, and he felt an unmistakable stir by his backside.

“She doesn’t...,” he repeated, breathing heavily. “You do know what you’re doing?” he asked, though at the same time he was sure that was the case.

“Oh, don’t fret,” the man breathed against his ear, “got years of experience.”