Chapter 8 #2
Her curiosity brought her to the swaths of cloth hanging on the wall beside the bed. There was a window behind them, blocked by flimsy white plastic strips. Lara bent the strips down to look through the glass, catching a glimpse of the trees and field across the street.
She set her bag atop the drawer case. Apart from the discomfort caused by her wet clothing, there was another pressing need she’d neglected.
“Should be able to get more clothes for you to put in there,” Ronin said.
Lara started, looking at the doorway to find him filling it with his tall, broad frame.
How long had he been standing there watching her?
“In…here?” Lara slid open the top drawer and peered inside.
“That’s what it’s for. It’s called a dresser.”
“Never seen anything as nice as this.” Every drawer had little metal handles to help open them, with the upper drawers having two. “What else is supposed to go in it?”
“Just clothes, usually.”
“Who has that many clothes?” Most of the clothing she owned was on her now, and it wouldn’t fill half of one drawer. She could think of a thousand other things to store in here.
“You can put whatever you want in it. Give me a moment, and I’ll find you something dry to wear.” Ronin turned to leave.
She hurried toward him. “Wait!”
He stopped and looked at her.
“I need to go,” Lara said.
His eyebrows lowered and his jaw tightened. “We have an agreement.”
“No. Wait, I mean, yeah, I know. But, I need to go.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, cheeks heating as she shifted her weight on her feet. If she had to explain human bodily functions to a damned bot she’d lose it.
“Where do you think you’ll get to?”
Lara glared at him. “God damn it, Ronin, I have to take a piss!”
Ronin stared, blinking once.
“If I have to spell it out for you any more clearly—”
She snapped her mouth shut when he raised a hand and pointed down the hallway.
Lara stood on the balls of her feet, trying to peer around him, but all she could see of the hall was a small section of the plain wall. “What’s down there?”
“Another room.”
“So you expect me to go in the corner, or what? Out the window?” Her embarrassment was rapidly shifting to irritation.
“Follow,” he said.
Despite her annoyance, she did.
He only took a few steps, stopping before the first door to the right. She stared at him with her arms crossed. Frowning, he opened the door, turned on the light, and moved aside.
Lara leaned forward and surveyed the room.
It was different from the others she’d seen here.
For one, it was far smaller, and the floor was tiled.
There was a large white tub along the far wall, and a wash basin embedded within a counter beneath an intact mirror.
She’d seen people use such basins back home, usually as planters for their meager crop allotments.
Between the tub and counter was another porcelain object, about knee-high and bowl-shaped, that reminded her of the outhouses the humans used.
She wiggled her toes nervously upon the soft floor. “So…”
“I don’t have any personal experience, but you’re supposed to sit on the toilet.” If there hadn’t been dry amusement in Ronin’s voice, she was crazy.
“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” Lara said, narrowing her eyes at him. She gestured at the porcelain bowl. “I’m supposed to sit on that thing?”
He nodded.
Lara entered the room, shuddering at the chill of the tiles against her bare feet. Stopping in front of the toilet, she lifted the lid. The inside was halfway filled with water.
“I pee…in this?”
“Yes. And you push down the handle when you’re done.”
She tapped the silver handle on the box-shaped rear portion of the toilet. When it didn’t do anything, she pressed harder and watched in amazement as the water inside the bowl swirled and vanished into the hole at the bottom. Then, on its own, the bowl refilled.
She swung her wide eyes back to Ronin. “Did you see that?”
He canted his head, holding her gaze. “Maybe I’d best leave you to it. If you turn the knobs in the tub, water will come out. Right for cold, left for hot. Clean yourself up. I’ll leave some dry clothes for you in the hallway.”
He left, closing the door behind him, and Lara returned her attention to the toilet.
After she examined it from top to bottom, she relieved herself.
She couldn’t help her guilt when she used the soft paper from the nearby roll to clean herself.
Paper was so rare that most people would never dream of using it in such a fashion, but she had nothing else.
She watched the soiled water disappear with no less amazement than the first time.
That done, she unstrapped the sheathed knife from her thigh and set it on the counter, along with her lighter, then removed her headwrap and the soaked cloths from her chest and waist, dropping the wet articles onto the floor.
They fell with heavy splats. She felt lighter without them, though no warmer.
Her legs were caked with mud from the walk, and the tiles were smudged with her dirty footprints.
She’d wash her legs and feet to avoid making any more of a mess and call it good.
Lara stepped into the tub, running a hand over the strangely textured curtain bunched to one side, and turned to examine the metal knobs on the wall.
She’d rarely had the luxury of bathing. There was only one water pump in the slums for everyone to share, and Warlord often cut it off at his whim.
It was far more important to keep people hydrated and crops watered than to be clean.
Tilting her head, she turned the left knob. Water flowed from the spigot and pooled around her feet, immediately cloudy with grime. To her wonderment, it warmed. She cupped her hands and splashed her chilled body.
Soon, the warmth became heat. It was quickly too much for her to handle. She turned the middle knob, hoping for some cool water to balance the flow. Water sprayed onto her from above, first ice cold, then scalding hot.
Lara screamed and stumbled back. One of her flailing hands caught on the curtain, and she used it to pull herself over the edge of the tub. Her feet slipped the instant they touched the tiled floor. She landed hard on her backside with another cry, legs sprawled.
“Fuck!” Pain radiated from her ass and up her side.
The door burst open, and Ronin was suddenly in the room.
Lara looked up at him with rounded eyes. There was a small gun in his right hand, its dull black metal absorbing the overhead light. He held a waded-up piece of cloth in his other hand.
Their eyes met.
His gaze dipped. “Are you all—”
“Get out!” Lara screamed, crossing her arms over her chest, snapping her legs together, and drawing her knees up.
As though the situation was totally normal, he shifted his attention to the tub.
Steam gathered at the ceiling as drops of water landed on Lara’s back from the spray behind her.
He placed the cloth—a shirt, she realized—on the counter next to the wash basin and stepped over her, reaching up to draw the curtain closed.
She watched, paralyzed by anger, embarrassment, and fear, as he held a hand in the water. Then he reached in and turned one of the knobs.
“Should be fine now. Soap is in the corner.” He hadn’t looked at her as he spoke, and he seemed to make a point of fixing his gaze on the hallway wall as he exited the room.
Lara sat on the floor a long while after the door was closed before she finally uncurled from her position.
He’d taken a single look at her bare-ass body, adjusted the water, and left.
Not only had he upheld his promise not to touch her, but he hadn’t even leered at her when she was at her most vulnerable.
She placed a hand on the side of the tub, using it for support, and stood up. Groaning, she rubbed at her aching backside.
Mimicking Ronin, she stuck her arm through the curtain to check the water.
It was pleasantly warm now. Lara carefully reentered the tub and stepped into the water streaming from the spigot overhead.
Blissful heat surrounded her, and she let herself melt in its embrace.
Eventually, she found the bar of soap he’d mentioned on a little rack in the corner.
She’d clean more than her legs, after all.
Ronin lingered in the hallway. The sound of the shower changed subtly, and he knew it was now caressing her naked body.
He forced himself to walk toward his room, forced himself to think about how strange running water sounded after all his time in the Dust. Working plumbing was as out of place in this world as functioning electric grids and undamaged buildings.
Closing the bedroom door behind him, Ronin struggled to maintain that chain of thoughts.
An image of Lara rose to the forefront of his mind—her bare skin moist and pink from the hot water, her pert breasts round, nipples erect. Though her ribs were visible at her sides, her narrow waist led to flaring hips and long, lithe legs. The legs of a dancer.
And between her thighs, a tantalizing patch of red hair had beckoned his gaze lower, to the pink flesh of her labia.
That single second before she’d covered herself and Ronin had looked away would be emblazoned in his memory until he was disassembled. He wasn’t sure if even a second Blackout could strip it away.
One glimpse of Lara awoke more in Ronin than anything he’d seen at Kitty’s.
Were it in his power, he would’ve dumped the memory. It would’ve been more respectful to her, and having an image of her naked form to summon at will wouldn’t help him keep his end of their bargain.
No touching.
He removed his gear, laying it out piece-by-piece atop the chest at the foot of the bed.
First his rifle. Next, the pistol in his hand, along with its spare magazine, which held its last six rounds of ammunition.
Then a knife with a serrated edge, various hand tools, and an almost empty lighter.
His belt followed. Dust was caked on the rugged material of its many pouches.
Ronin stared at the objects, adjusting their lay to achieve something close to symmetry. True balance was impossible with this eclectic array, but it all seemed right together, like mismatched pieces of some greater, cohesive whole.
His thought-chains took strange, whimsical twists from there.
Sometimes, out in the wastes, he’d uncover items that couldn’t possibly have had any practical use, and he knew they’d been created long ago by a human.
Had the Creators shaped humans first? Were they the flawed children who’d inspired the eventual crafting of bots, a more perfect reflection of the Creators themselves?
Despite the similarities between bots and humans, the differences were so stark, so undeniable.
Humans were fragile, irrational, nonsensical creatures with more weaknesses than strengths. And Lara was one of them.
Why had a human so suddenly caught his interest? All Ronin had craved since waking was knowledge of his purpose. He’d never discover the truth while obsessing over a human woman.
He undressed, blocking the onslaught of simulations that sought to depict Lara removing her clothes. Such things weren’t real, no matter how they appeared. She was much more than data in his memory. Lara was a living, breathing creature. Everything she said and did would always belong to her.
What failed paths of logic had brought him to this point, to him hiding in a room he rarely used to avoid the temptation of a human woman he’d brought into his home?
She would dance for him, and he’d provide for her needs, nothing more.
He’d watch her. Over time, he would discern why he’d been so enthralled by the way she moved.
Then, with that foolish whim fulfilled, he would part ways with her.
He’d purchase supplies he required, give Lara the remaining chits, and leave Cheyenne far behind.
His purpose wasn’t in this place, wasn’t with her. The key to his programming lay somewhere in the ruins of the world. It was somewhere in the Dust, waiting for him, and he had to seek it out.
But didn’t Ronin deserve a respite, after so many days in the wastes?
Didn’t he deserve this one little diversion?