Rest was a dream.
Relaxation was a sin.
They did, however, bring the survivors to a shower room and hand over a few medical kits. The place was almost empty, just a few lonely, tired souls showering in their separate stalls. Greg and Kyra recovered a pair of fresh uniforms from the ranked rows of gray lockers. They were dull black uniforms with red trim. The security forces of the mining installation, at one point, had worn them. Staring at the black jumpsuit, Greg wondered if the man who had once worn this was now dead. He decided it was highly likely.
He made sure to find a pair of gloves.
They didn't need to know about his arm.
Kyra took his hand. "Come on, we can go grab a stall. There's enough room for two of us."
She led him through the maze of stalls, away from the others. Greg was grateful. His mind was laced with a haze of lethargy, making his thoughts dull and muddied. His nap on the ship seemed to have only made his sleepiness worse. They found an isolated stall, slipped in, and locked the door behind them.
"Strip." Kyra set the medical kit, uniforms, and a pair of towels on a shelf far enough away from the shower to remain dry.
"I'd really enjoy doing sexy things right now, but I think after we get done I'd just pass out," Greg replied.
Kyra rolled her eyes. "Me too. I need to check you over for wounds and you need a shower. It'll go a long way towards keeping you on your feet."
Greg stripped and tossed his clothes into the corner.
"Turn the shower on, wash up," Kyra ordered.
Greg nodded, turned, adjusted the temperature of the water, and then turned it on. A cascade of crystal clear, liquid warmth washed over him. The sheer pleasure of a simple shower made him feel lightheaded for a moment. It made him question how long it had been since he'd had a genuine shower. It seemed wrong that it had been little over a day or so ago, before he'd broken out of custody and set everything into motion.
He turned around and saw that Kyra had shed her own clothing. She caught his eyes with hers and smirked.
"Not tired of me yet?" She joined him beneath the shower.
"Not by a long shot. Don't know if I ever will be."
Kyra frowned. "Don't be the hopeless romantic guy who promises everlasting love and that he'll never get tired of seeing his girlfriend naked."
"You already had someone promise you that?"
"Yes. It's never true. Ever. You will always get tired of your lover. Whether or not you stay with them is a matter of mutual love, respect, and complacency. Relationships last because people are lazy and it's hard to break up with someone, even if you don't love them anymore."
"You've really had some shitty relationships, haven't you?"
"I...yes. Now let's not miss this opportunity to make out in a shower."
She grabbed him and kissed him. He kissed her back, running his hands across her warm, smooth, wet body.
He almost, almost, forgot that he had a metal hand.
Kyra never mentioned or reacted to it.
When they were finished, they killed the shower and toweled off. When he was dry, Greg allowed Kyra to look him over, then begin cleaning and bandaging his wounds. She was at it for quite awhile.
YOU ARE READING
Necropolis 3: AnnihilationHorror
The third novel in The Shadow Wars. First, he awoke on a rainy little wasteland of a planet called Dis. His memories were gone and there were zombies everywhere... Then, he was kidnapped and experimented on by Dark Ops, the shady government branch s...