Novels2Search
The Last Woman on Earth: A Military Sci-fi Intrigue
Part IV, Chapter 10: Fish are friends, not food

Part IV, Chapter 10: Fish are friends, not food

My eyelids feel heavy when I open them. They droop the way overworked eyelids would, making me feel the way someone who barely gets any sleep would feel. I don’t know anyone, apart from Roman, who can doze off in the same room with someone they barely know and not lie wide awake with anxiousness, afraid they’ll get their throat sliced in the middle of the night. I don’t think the woman has gotten any good sleep either, judging from all her shuffling and turning.

But right now, she hasn’t woken up, and she’s probably slept through the whole ten minutes I was out. Or at least I thought it was ten minutes; I realize how wrong I am, looking at the opaque semblance of daylight slipping through the ventilation hole over my head.

The woman moves around on the sofa as she lazily opens her eyes. It seems like she’s awake but chooses to stay lying down just to make fun of me. She’s like, Look at me, I don’t have any responsibility and I can fool around all day.

I give her a small nod. She nods back slower than I do.

“Morning,” I say.

“Good morning.”

“I’m gonna head out. I’ll be back by sunset. Don’t you dare go outside. If Dzyuba catches you, consider yourself a goner.”

She replies as I stand up, “Please wait a moment.”

“Spit it.”

She sits up straight, running her fingers through her hair. “I apologize for hassling you, but I have not had much to eat the past day. I feel quite ravenous.”

“So?”

After a moment of awkward silence, she says in a quieter voice, “I would very much appreciate breakfast, please.”

I shrug. “You think I’m a street vendor in St. Petersburg Square? I don’t have food on me.”

Stolen novel; please report.

She opens her mouth but says nothing. I can sense the dissatisfaction, though.

I continue, “But you don’t have to worry about water. Look.” I point to a corner where the pipeline plunges downward, hanging above an aluminum bucket. A droplet of water drips from the edge of the pipe down to the bucket below. “That’s the water collection system I’ve rigged up. Snowmelt is a godsend.”

The woman promptly hides her wince with an obviously fake cough.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Spit it. Better to voice your objections now if you’re gonna stay here for a while.”

“There is not any issue, really. I was thinking whether the water tastes like metal.”

“It does. You’ll get used to it.” We have ourselves a celebrity here if she’s never had lead-laced water before. She can easily pass for a Camp C entertainer if she isn’t, well, a woman.

“Have you tried scooping up snow from outside and melt it with your heater?” She asks.

“Of course. Lots of times I need water ready as soon as I’m back, or the snow gets mud all over it. You’re gonna be in here all day as well, so you’ll need a reliable source of water. Still, we have a few problems here.”

I explain to her that I might not have enough rations for two and that I would try providing for us. Of course, that means I’d most likely have to steal, but as I don’t know how she’ll react, I don’t tell her that. She might be the type crazy enough to be against thievery for survival.

“We piss outside and take dumps in latrines, but as you are now, you won’t be able to go outside.” I stroke my chin. “The point is to not get you to stay in this room all the time, if possible. An empty bottle can take care of your piddling business, but how are you gonna take a shit without stinking up the whole room?”

“I . . .” She fiddles her fingers.

“You got something to say?”

“I find it difficult to take care of such business in the presence of a man.” She averts her eyes from me as she speaks.

“Why?” I ask.

“It is rather . . . confidential.”

“What?” I snort. “You’d rather go out there getting shot while shitting your pants?”

“I just cannot do my business here. Please understand. There must be an alternative.”

Sure. Keep your secrets about your laser beam pee or whatever. I have things to care about and I’m not risking running late over this thought-provoking discussion.

I groan. “Fucking whatever, man. I’m not here most of the time anyway. There’s a bottle in the corner. Pee in there and I’ll take care of it once I’m back. Just hold your shit in.”

She says nothing back, and I leave it at that. I take less than a minute to get ready, and we bid goodbye with a silent nod.

I lock the door from the outside as I head out.