Chapter 1

The beast paused and sniffed the air. The air was thick with oily black smoke. The whole city was overcast with the haze from fires that burned sporadically. He turned as some people ran screaming out of a burning building. He laughed slightly because it amused him. The silly little worms. How easily they died. Caught between their fear of him or burning alive. He leapt, twice, and took a few running steps and was in the middle of them. He seized a man in his teeth shaking him like a mad dog. The man screamed and died. The others scattered like roaches when a light comes on. He started to chase them but he was hungry. He sat down on his back feet and started to munch contentedly on the biceps of the man’s upper arm.

He heard a noise behind him. What? he thought, did they meet something worse than me? Are they coming back? As he turned, he distinctly heard someone clear their throat. What is this shit? he thought.

He turned and faced the newcomer. Shit, he thought. His beastly brain raced to figure out a way to take on this new threat. And I was doing so good, he thought. I’ve killed a thousand in the last few days. I might have been made a Centurion when I got back to the ship and they downloaded my brain.

But the beast knew he was fucked. Word had gotten around. There were two things that the beast and his brothers feared, in this new world. One was the Overlord, who pretty much everyone feared. And the other thing. Shit. The other thing stood right in front of him, idly slapping her sword against the palm of her left hand.

The Virgin? he thought. Now? Here, and now? The fucking Virgin? What did I do to deserve this?

The Virgin had already killed over half of the beast’s brothers and sisters. She had a fearsome reputation. The beast knew that he could never take her in a straight fight. She was beyond fast and her blade sang when it tasted Shrike blood. She had killed at least one of his family every night for the last thirty days.

She slowly began to walk towards him. The beast whined and limped backwards a few steps, favoring his back left paw. He shook his head and blood splattered from his muzzle. He stumbled and fell sideways, crying loudly. He could see her approaching from his peripheral vision.

“Awww...” he heard her soft voice. “Poor beastie. Are you hurt?”

He whined loudly and sat hard in the street. That hurt, there was broken glass and chunks of rock and brick scattered everywhere. He whined again, whipping his head back and forth and rolling his eyes.

“You are a crazy one,” she said. She was holding her sword down by her leg. He didn’t think she looked ready to fight. He wondered if he was fooling her. If he could just get a second’s head start, he might have a chance...

He felt a great satisfaction as he thought of being the one to kill her. He would garner fame and fortune if he could do it, if he could stop the threat. He would be rich beyond imagining. Beast-rich. He would get slaves and meat, much meat. And, he’d get the first choice of his many sisters to mate with. No one would mate with this beast, right now. He was a nothing, a nobody at the moment. All that would change if he could kill this bitch, the Virgin.

The Virgin was less than twenty feet away. Barely a hop, he thought. He didn’t tense up for the jump though, he knew she’d see his muscles tighten if he did. He relaxed and lay on his side, panting and whining.

“Poor beastie!” she said again. She really sounded sympathetic, he thought. Just a little closer, he thought. Just come a little bit closer, bitch.

Jump! He put every bit of strength he had into the leap, knowing his massive weight would crush her, no matter how tough she was. His eyes were wide open, looking for her as he fell back to the ground. Shit, he had time to think. He hit the pavement hard, and rolled. Shit! He hadn’t landed on her somehow. He had missed. She wasn’t where he’d thought she would be. Blinding pain consumed his ankles as he fell.

He tried to stand but fell back onto the street. The backs of his ankles burned like fire. Worse than fire. He scrabbled with his arms on the broken street, trying to lift himself back to his feet. His feet just wouldn’t work though. The searing pain finally gave him a clue. He’d been hamstrung. The bitch had cut his tendons as he flew past her. He roared in pain, frustration and rage. He saw a flickering movement out of the corner of his eye, but just for a split second. Warm fluid gushed down his cheek, spewing from his right eye. Shit. She’d cut him again, she’d split his eye open with her bastard blade.

He knew she was somewhere on his blind side. He whipped his head around, right into her blade. The tip of it sliced into his soft ear, going deep inside his head. Weirdly, that one didn’t hurt any. He felt a great tiredness consume him. He wanted to just lay down in the street and rest. Once he killed her, he could do that.

He batted out with his front paw to where she would have had to stand to cut his ear. His paw slapped the pavement, though. He had felt the slightest of contacts with something. He wondered if it was her. Damn. How did she move so fast? Something struck the back of his wrist, hard, and he felt another searing pain. This one did hurt. He looked down with his good eye. His paw was gone, literally. There was just a stump there, spraying blood. Shit, he thought again. Something kicked him hard, on the back. He began to turn. But he was going so slow by now he knew it would take forever to turn all the way around. He forced himself to do it. I can rest after I kill her, he thought. I can rest then.

He was unconscious when she slit his throat, ear to ear. He went, quietly, his soul departed and he died. If these things have souls, she thought. If souls exist in the first place.

She slung her blade hard in a wide arc and the blood on it sprayed out around her. She gave it a perfunctory examination, pleased to see no nicks in it. She’d hit bone twice on this one, she was getting careless. She felt a slight sting on her right forearm, and looked at the tiny scratch. He’d gotten her, alright. If she’d been a thousandth of a second slower he would have cut her good. These things had claws as hard as iron and as sharp as razors.

She heard a noise and spun, ready to kill again. A man and woman crept through the wreckage towards her. They looked like refugees but you could never be sure. Not now.

“Help us. Please,” the man said. The woman was crying, staring blankly ahead.

“You should have left the city days ago,” she said, feeling sorry for them but irritated by their obvious stubbornness. Why did people hang around? she wondered. We knew these bastards were coming weeks ago.

“We need food. She hasn’t eaten in days.”

The Virgin reached into her pocket and tossed a few power bars on the ground in front of the man.

“You need to get the fuck out of here,” she said. “Find some soldiers. They’ll show you where to go. I don’t have time to take you there myself.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you,” the man said, tears streaming down his cheeks. She was disgusted at how sorry she felt for the couple. No wonder we’re losing this fight, she thought. The man gathered up the food, took the woman’s arm in his and they hobbled off. The woman had never spoken or even looked at her, the virgin realized. She had looked shell-shocked. She wondered what the woman had seen, to knock her mind out like that. The people who stayed saw the shit, that was for sure. Nothing like life even a month ago had been. How quickly we get used to the unimaginable. She sighed and turned back down the street, deeper into enemy territory. She was hungry. She had beasts to kill.

Charity Leann Spivey had a problem. Most teenaged kids had problems but she’d never heard of another kid having anything like her problem. And her problem didn’t happen at school or during the evenings at home with her family, like most other people’s problems. Her problem happened in the middle of the night. Charity dreamed like crazy, all night long sometimes. She woke up tired, almost exhausted at times from dreaming so much. And real, her dreams were incredibly realistic. Whacky, but realistic. Tonight had been no exception.

Her dreams matched reality surprisingly good at times. This time for instance. She’d dreamed some kind of beast thing had scratched her, and sure enough this morning she had a scratch on her arm. Last night or even sometimes during the night she’d scratched herself on something and her mind had incorporated the scratch into her dream. Crazy. Totally crazy. She dressed, brushed her teeth, and headed for school.

School was okay, dullsville at best. She had lunch with Darlene, her best friend. She related her latest dream to her, and Darlene analyzed it in her own peculiar fashion.

“You were the virgin?” Darlene asked. Charity nodded.

“That was my name in the dream, yes.” she replied.

“Charity. That’s the key. Your subconscious is either concerned that you need to keep your virginity or that you need to lose it. You just need to figure out which.”

Charity snorted. She didn’t have much confidence in Darlene’s armchair interpretations but she didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings.

“And what?” Charity finally said. “You mean if I get my cherry popped, these dreams will stop?”

It was Darlene’s turn to snort. “It’s probably not that simple. But your brain is trying to tell you something. You need to be more receptive.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Charity said, finishing up her burrito. She crushed the wrapper into a ball and tossed it into the trash can, ten feet away. Darlene’s jaw dropped.

“See, see how good you are?” she said. “Didn’t you have a dream last week you were a basketball pro? You shouldn’t want these dreams to stop because they are helping you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” That one had bothered Charity. She hated the dreams where she was a guy, and the shower scene in that one had been pretty difficult. Eye-opening, and a little frightening. Charity had actually spent time wondering what went on in the boy’s showers in the past, but for some reason it bothered her when she got to see. She wondered if her subconscious thought all those rumors about basketball players were true. It sure was in the dream.

“You are the most incredible lucid dreamer I know,” said Darlene. “Well, you are the only lucid dreamer I know. I’m so damn jealous of you, girl.” She sighed.

“I just want to get some sleep,” said Charity. “Damn. Every single fuckin’ night.”

“I never dream. You are lucky, girl.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The starship spun in place, re-orienting itself. Lieutenant Placid Strength turned her own ship slightly and lined a gunsight up on an engine cluster. She waited, almost holding her breath. She imagined the enemy pilot flicking switches and finally grabbing the stick. The time just felt right. As she squeezed the trigger she saw the enemy’s force-field falling, preparing for thrust. Bingo.

Her laser hit the engine pod just as the chambers flooded with highly reactive fuel. The explosion was pretty intense, and the ship spun madly off to the side, almost out of her field of vision. She felt debris bouncing off her hull. Shit. She whipped the stick around, and inched the throttle forward.

After a few moments the bad guys managed to get the spin stopped, and stabilized the craft somewhat. Placid hit them pretty hard amidships about that time, and fired grapples into a few portholes. She winched the two craft together, and gave the grunts in her belly a go.

Her men swarmed out, and a few demolition charges later they were pouring into the hatch. The bastards are as good as dead, now, she thought. This whole war had been take no prisoners and this battle would be no different. Guessing from the size of the craft there would probably be two hundred crew on board. That was a lot of killing. That would take some time.

“Ahem.” said a soft voice behind her. She spun her seat and confronted the newcomer.

“Well, well ... very heroic, lieutenant.” said the woman. Placid squirmed. This bitch. Why this mission, of all times? Why’d they have to send an observer this time? She’d never even been told the woman’s name. Just pretend she’s not there, they said. Forget her.

“Just doing my duty, ma’am,” she finally said. She unbuckled, and stood up. The other woman backed up a step.

“Lieutenant,” she said. “I’m sorry we seem to be on the wrong foot. And I’m sorry if that sounded sarcastic. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay ... I’m sorry too, I know I haven’t been in the best of moods the last few...”

“Lots of stress, lieutenant ... this war brings out the worst in all of us.”

“Yes.”

“When’s the last time you went on R&R?”

“No idea. A year at least.”

“That’s not very reg...”

“No, I know it’s not. But I do what I’m told.”

The woman approached, stopping just a foot or two away. Placid smelled her, she was so close. A hint of perfume or deodorant, and some honest sweat. The woman was attractive, she had to admit. The guys had been just plain nuts about her when she came onboard. She was beautiful. They watched through the window as the last of the troopers funneled into the hatchway.

“Now what?” the woman said.

“Now we kill a few hours while they mop up, and yank the AI cores out of the ‘puters.” Placed said.

“Placid. I like you. I’ve already given you a completely green sheet. This should help your career immensely. Can you come back to my cabin? I got a bottle of clear, we can have a sip and celebrate. I know that’s not reg...”

An hour later Placid lazily lifted her head from the woman’s crotch. They kissed, long and slow, with lots of tongue.

“Yum...” the woman said. “I taste good.”

“Sure as fuck,” said Placid, dropping her face back down to the beautiful aromatic cunt below her.

“How much time we got?” said the woman.

“I’d guess at least another hour...” Placid said, her voice muffled by the woman’s genitals. The woman’s clit was out of this world. It was like sucking a little boy’s dick. Shit! she thought. This is turning out way better than I thought.

“Think you can make me cum again?”

“I’d stake my life on it, darling.”

“Thank you.”

Charity woke, her heart pounding. She lay in the darkness, trying to slow her breathing. Jeezus. That had been intense. A woman! she thought, giggling. I was making it with a woman! Sometimes these dreams were worth the trouble. That was one of those times. She’d been cumming like crazy in her dream and she was sure she’d really cum. She reached down, and touched her pussy. Jeezus, it was dripping, oozing. And she just felt that warm glow, that feeling that she’d just cum. She knew she’d cum. Why can’t I have one of those every night? she thought. That’s about as much fun as I’ve had in a long time. And with a woman! She giggled some more.

The next day she told Darlene a mildly edited version of the dream. Darlene was envious, and just sat there with her mouth open. When Charity finished, Darlene said, “Jeezus H, girl. You are too much. Your dreams are too cool. I’m jealous, I’m really jealous.”

“Well, they’re not always that good...”

“Damn. You made it with a woman. That is too cool.”

Charity giggled. Darlene had confided in her several times that she thought she might be gay, but Darlene seemed to be about as afraid of girls as she was boys. At the moment, the two of them had classified themselves as “nonosexuals”. Darlene was too shy and scared. And Charity ... Charity liked boys, but she was too nervous. She wasn’t exactly shy, but boys just made her nervous. So intense and eager and all that. In her dreams, though, she always seemed to know what to do. Too bad real life isn’t like that, she thought.

Charity had tried to talk with her mom about her dreams, in the past. She felt like her mom kind of blew it off, though. She realized that she probably didn’t get across the idea of how intense they were. Well, she didn’t want to sound crazy. She just wanted a sounding board about it, not to get committed. She’d thought about going to the school shrink but she didn’t was to have it on her record so she just suffered through it.

Most of the dreams were nonsensical. Some of them she forgot, almost instantly. Some were intense, and some were scary. She’d had one about the end of the world that still gave her chills. She had taken a class on psychology, but none of that stuff seemed to help her. She couldn’t help speculating on the origins of these dreams. Why was her mind doing this to her? she thought. She still had no answers, though.

She sat that evening, at dinner with her parents, and listened to their chatter. I was flying a starship last night, she thought. Wonder what they’d think if they could have seen me? Wonder what they’d really think if they’d seen me eating that girl’s pussy ... shit. I wish my life was just one tenth as busy and interesting as my dreams are. And sexy. She sighed and took a bite of pot roast.

The wind blew icy knives through her ragged coat. She shivered, and winced when a hole in her gloves let the frozen steel of her rifle touch her finger. Shit, it was cold. It was always cold, here on Destiny, but the last few weeks had been colder than ever. Just about the time the skeletons had shown up. She wondered, again, as just about every one in the colony had, if that was coincidence, or nature? Did the skeletons migrate? They seemed to be coming down out of the north, where the blasts of cold came from. But the weather observations from orbit had shown no real seasonal weather changes, the planet had no tilt. And here, of course, on the equator, it was milder than the rest of this godforsaken world. It was supposed to be, at least. She softly cursed, for the millionth time, the world brokers that had sold them this piece of shit. And the piece of shit transport that had broken down and left them stuck here.

She heard something crunch in the snow outside the cave. Her eye met Wilbur’s, across the mouth from her. He raised his gun slowly, and she lowered hers to the ready. They stood, waiting.

God those fuckers are fast, she had time to think. Her AK747 was gone, yanked from her hands. It had fired once, as her fingers raked across the trigger, and she hoped the bullet at least hit something. Wilbur was gone, her peripheral vision told her. She’d seen him get yanked out into the cold, as quickly as her gun had. She stumbled backwards, fumbling for her pistol, but she never had a chance to get it out. A skinny arm, just bone with a thin layer of hairy flesh over it, came out of nowhere and smashed into her face. As she lay stretched out in the ice she finally felt warm. The pain had only lasted a second. For the first time in months, she was warm. It felt good. She sighed, contented.

The skeleton laid her crumpled form in the snow, and cried over her. It cried for all the evil in the universe, it’s frozen heart almost melting with sorrow. Glittering icy tears froze on it’s leathery cheeks. It cried for what it had to do, for what it had done, and for all the deaths it caused. It cried for sorrow, and for joy. That’s what the skeletons did. They just cried.

Charity sat with Darlene, in the stands. They hardly even glanced at the basketball game beneath them. Well, Charity did a little, mostly to sneer at the clumsy high school players. She’d been playing pro basketball a week ago, she knew some moves that would blow these guys out of the water. But, piss on that. She wasn’t interested in basketball.

Darlene was leaning out of her seat, trying to see around a dozen people if Chuck Simone was looking her way. Shit. He wasn’t.

“He doesn’t even know I exist. What’s the use,” whispered Darlene to Charity.

“I thought you had decided to be gay,” Charity whispered back.

“I haven’t decided anything. You don’t get to decide shit like that, you just have to figure out what it is that you are.” replied Darlene, leaning out of her seat again.

“I see,” said Charity. She had just seen Donald Feldstein and one of his friends climbing the stands, heading their way. Well, they would pass close by the girls, if they made it this far. And ... wasn’t that Dick Johnson with him? Dick the dick? Charity had heard rumors about that guy.

“Darlene!” she hissed. Darlene turned. She still hadn’t seen Don and Dick, Charity realized. Charity nodded her head down the stairs at the boys. Darlene’s eyes followed.

“Look available!” Charity, said, and slid out of her seat and into the one next to it. There, she thought. Empty seat, a girl, empty seat, a girl. They’d have to be gay to pass this shit up.

Darlene had a funny look on her face. Shit, don’t blow this for me, Charity had time to think, when Donald stood even with her. She’d talked to him just last week, outside of class, well, just for a moment ... but he seemed to think she was okay ... she casually glanced his way, and hoped she didn’t look desperate.

“Hi, Charity!” Donald said. Dick looked like he was going to keep on walking up the stairs but then he stopped also.

“Hi, Don,” said Charity. “Fancy meeting you here.” She winced. What a dumb thing to say.

“Well,” said Donald. “It’s a school game, and we go to the school. Not too surprising, when you think of it.”

“No,” said Charity. “Not too surprising.”

“Are these seats taken?” Don asked, indicating the seats next to and inbetween the girls.

“Oh, no. Please.” said Charity, wincing again. Why did I say please? she thought. Donald moved in front of her stepping on her toes. “Sorry,” he said, and she nodded. He sat, and then Dick moved past him, also stepping on Charity’s feet. “Sorry,” Dick said. “S’okay,” she replied.

She looked down the row, satisfied. Darlene had a slightly horrified expression on her face, but so what. This was a sign, Charity thought. This is like one of my dreams. Maybe it will end up that way, too.

The game progressed. Charity and Donald talked, and giggled, laughed, joked, and finally even whispered to each other.

“Your friend seems very shy,” Donald whispered in her ear. His breath was hot, and felt good on her ear.

“She’s like that,” Charity whispered back. She tried to breathe as much hot breath into his ear as he had hers. “She’ll warm up eventually.”

“I’m glad we met you guys,” Donald whispered, when they had moved their heads back to his speaking position.

“Me too,” Charity said, giggling.

“You are too cool,” he said, and she giggled some more.

“White man come. Red man die. Red man must survive,” said Sky Chief. The other chiefs grunted assent. Hidden Brook listened, her face down, her eyes averted. She got to listen to the chiefs when they met, because she was the serving girl. She fetched them food and water, when they desired it. And ... sometimes other things that they desired...

“White man must be stopped. This red man’s land,” said a chief. Sky Chief nodded.

“White man bring rifle, horse. Is not all bad,” said one of the chiefs. A few chiefs grunted assent to that, too.

“And firewater. Don’t forget firewater,” said another. There were more grunts at that, vigorous ones.

“Firewater bad,” said Sky Chief.

“But taste good,” said someone else. Sky Chief grew frustrated. He didn’t feel like he was communicating effectively.

“Hidden Brook!” he called out, and she stepped forward and bowed low.

“Tell us of that dream,” Sky Chief said. Hidden Brook gulped, embarrassed to have to speak in front of such a large important group.

“It was in the time which is yet to be,” she said shyly. The chiefs listened. Some of them were shocked that Sky Chief would let a lowly woman talk at the assemblage of chiefs. Out of respect for him they listened, though. She continued.

“In that time, red men were equal to white men, and very wealthy. They had much wampum and women and firewater, as much as they wanted. They built great teepees that the white man came to, and the white man gave away much wampum when inside. Food and firewater was served, and celebrations happened. Things made of wood and iron and glass made noises and rang bells, and lights lit up without fire or heat. Sometimes wampum came from these ... things ... but never more than was put into them to start with. It was beautiful but also frightening and confusing to me, a simple woman.”

She ran out of breath and stopped, embarrassed. Sky Chief nodded thoughtfully.

“This is a prophecy. It is truth,” he finally said. “This is why red man must survive. Some day we will be wealthy and own large teepees, if we just survive. Someday we will take the white man’s wampum, and grow rich.”

The other chiefs seemed satisfied. They nodded and agreed among themselves. They each clasped Sky Chief’s arm. Everyone seemed to agree, the red man must survive. The future looked bright, if they could just survive.

“Hidden Brook!” Sky Chief called out. He was already loosening his loincloth. “These are my friends! You must polish their totem poles with your lips!” He sniggered wickedly.

Hidden Brook shyly came forward again, embarrassed. She dropped to her knees, as she did before the chief every night. Who will be first, she wondered. A chief named Fast Antelope seemed to be the bravest. He dropped his loincloth. Goodness, thought Hidden Brook. His name should be Big Antelope. She was glad to do this for the chief. She was glad to bow before all the chiefs.

That morning, Charity just lay in bed, laughing to herself, bemused, remembering her dream. She was a little embarrassed, as Hidden Brook had been. What on earth inspired that dream? she wondered. And damn, she thought. My jaw is even sore. What the fuck? She remembered the feeling of those stiff tubes of flesh in her mouth, and the musty taste of their ... manly essences. Why would I dream that? she thought ... putting ten men’s penises in my mouth, one after the other ... why the fuck would my head do that to me ... although ... in the dream, I did seemed to enjoy it ... I am not telling Darlene this one ... I wonder if real sex is that good. Well, not just sucking guys off, sex, real sex. Missionary position sex. She hoped to find out someday. Lord knows, she thought, I wonder if my real sex life will ever be as interesting as my dream sex life. Although I don’t really want to suck off ten guys at a time ... she burped softly, and laughed again.

That afternoon, Charity and Darlene met Don and Dick at the Hardlee’s next to the school. Darlene hadn’t been too crazy about the idea because she still wasn’t sure about Dick.

“I swear, he tried to feel my boob with his shoulder at the game,” she told Charity, who just laughed. Charity wished Don would have tried that with her. She’d have let him, she thought. She was ready for interesting things to happen. She was ready for her life to start.

They sat for maybe twenty minutes, growing more and more impatient, until the boys finally showed up, embarrassed.

“We had a ... parental malfunction,” said Donald. “My dad locked his keys in the car.”

“It’s cool,” said Charity. They ordered, got their shit, and she and Don sat on one side of the table, while Darlene and Dick sat on the other. This is working out well, thought Charity. And Darlene seemed to be coming out of her shell.

Thirty minutes later they walked down the sidewalk, through the gathering gloom. As natural as could be, Don had taken her hand, outside the restaurant, and she had let him. They’d been holding hands the whole way, now. Very good, Charity thought to herself. Her mind was feverishly trying to think of ways to speed the process up a bit. The four of them approached the elementary school playground. She led the group into it.

The girls sat in the swings while the guys pushed them. Oh, thought Charity, this was a good idea. Every time she came back, Don put his hands right on her butt and pushed her. This is fun, she thought.

They finally gravitated to the merry go round, and sat on it, and lazily spun it around with their feet. Darlene and Dick sat on the far side, and Charity and Don whispered and giggled to each other. Charity was having a great time.

“Did you talk to Dick?” Charity whispered. Don nodded.

“Yes. He likes her. He thinks she’s hot. Did you talk to her?”

“Yes. She already liked him. And she’s curious...” Charity shut up. She wasn’t sure if it was too early to talk about things like this, so she shut up.

“Curious? About what?” said Don. Charity shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said. He laughed.

“I know what. The rumors. Big Dick Johnson, the Dick with the big johnson. Yes, they’re true.”

She looked askance at him.

“Hey,” he said. “Gym class. The showers, you know? That’s the only reason I know.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. Enough information. And, interesting information that she could pass on. “I don’t think it matters that much to her. She just wants a nice guy.”

“Dick’s a nice guy, once he gets to know you. At least he’s not a ... dick,” whispered Don, and Charity giggled.

Darlene’s house was the closest, so they walked her home first. Then Dick followed behind Charity and Don as they walked to her house. Dick waited patiently at the mailbox while Don walked Charity up to her front porch. They said goodnight and hugged for a moment.