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Everything Jake #379 Jake's Final, continued. M was quickly received as the second in command after Kelion, and with good reason. He excelled in all manners of training. He was always the last one standing in hand to hand combat. He always had his arm in the best of shape. He was always the first one to finish in the piloting competitions. Did the best on all aspects of the mental training. No one did better than him, then, of course, Kelion and his pseudo Scot accent. "Not bad, kiddo, not bad." M and Shamya soon shared a bed on numerous times. M had been with a female before (back in his hometown, a girl named Gerttir, not the most attractive of females, but M was stricken with her nonetheless. She ended relations with him and later died by eating too much meat. M was upset for no more than five minutes about this) but with Shamya it was different. Maybe it was the stress of knowing that soon, they would be at war. Maybe it was animal magnetism. Maybe it was just really, really sweet sex. Even Kelion was impressed because even with his long list of women devoured, he never tasted someone who had the dark skin of…. Even Kelion was impressed, albeit slightly, for he had never been with a girl who had dark skin. "Tell me, M, what's it like to dip in the chocolate?" "What's chocolate?" "Sometimes I wonder how you stand on two feet, M." ….. Even Kelion was proud of M, since he had never been with a girl the like of Shamya. "Nice piece, M." M awoke to the fact he didn't realize he had passed out. The ration beside him was empty, as was the water. It was now also night out. And very, very cold. His ankle reminded him what it's like to be in thriving pain. M cursed. The sounds of war were far off and unplaceable. How long has he been out? Where was he? M stood up, leaning on a piece of cold metal, and looked. There was nothing but ravaged land in each direction for miles. Far, far up, he could see slivers of white light in a formation. He recognized those as the airships of his land, but it was too dark and they were too high up for them to see him. He was stranded. Joining in a chorus of pain, M's stomach seemed to knot itself together in conjunction with the constant thump, thump, thump of his ankle. Famished, he thought, and he put his hand on stomach. He slumped back down next to the debris that had been his shelter. I'll just sit here, I'll just sit here and wait to die.    
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EVERYTHING JAKE is TM & (C) 2000-2011 by Mike Rosenzweig. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
