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Right now I can smell him, and the earth, and the couple two tents over, rooting. It's as quiet as it's going to get, which is to say not very. I lay here and watch the moonlight on his white-blonde hair, and hold his little body next to mine. I got some sleep in at least, which was not a common occurrence before I got him.
I got him. Yeah, saw him with somebody else, killed them, and fucking took what had belonged to me the moment I saw it. I just knew I had to have him. So I took him. I got a better handle on things after that. I don't know. I just need him near me like I need air. Killed his old owner, put him on the back of my bike and now he's mine. I'll die before somebody takes him from me. Nothing scares me but losing him. Losing what's mine.
Mine. Some of these blokes tried to call me a queerboy faggot, at least a ways until I killed them. Now nobody says nothing about me and him. It's not like that faggot stuff at all. Well, I guess I do faggot things with him, but I never thought of that until I saw him chained to the bright chrome of another's rig, looking like a sad angel and knew I had to have him. Took him right then into some bushes and had what I needed from him.
Him. I don't even know his name. He can't speak, he's a mute. The most I get are little hisses and gasps when I mount him. But I don't need his name. We're beyond all that, this is something much better. I don't need to call him, he's just there. I don't even need to tell him what to do, he just does what needs to be done. When I'm upset or my senses are going crazy, he's just there and touches me, and it helps, or I smell him and it helps.
Helps. Once before the great burn, I had a life, and then I had another after it before I found him, but I don't really remember them...it's like trying to sift through someone else's memories. I got a place with this mob because of him, because I'm now steady enough that I don't have to be chained anymore. Since I got him, I remember everything.
Everything. That's what I need about him. Everything. That fluffy white-blonde hair, so soft like a baby's I think I remember. Those cheekbones so like a sheila's. The long fringe of lashes over his nut brown eyes. His smell, the smell of his come. I'm proud of him, really I am. I give him the best clothes, and wipe the dust off his face. Everybody in this mob knows he's mine and nobody tries to take him.
Take him. Yes, tomorrow I'm going to take him with me, the Humongous says that he's found a huge supply of petrol just over the hills. And after we get the petrol, it will be just him and me, riding. I'll find a place with just a few people and it can be me and him curled like this, forever.