The Murdered World 42

The gun vault was plopped down in the middle of the fourth level, at an intersection of four corridors. A glass cube—or something that looked like glass—with an arsenal inside. Stacks and stacks of ammo boxes. Frank tried breaking the glass. It didn’t even chip. Barely shook, even though he reduced a wooden chair to matchwood, trying to bust through it.

That left the door. A metal frame, then the same crystal that made up the rest of the vault, with a recess for a handle. Built into the doorframe was a keypad. LED lights blazed. Five empty spaces. The keys had never been used. There was no sign of what code had to be punched in. Frank looked around, hoping he might get lucky and someone had left a Post-It note around. He checked all around the intersection, but it began to feel like he was shirking duty. There was no other way in than to figure out the code.

Frank tapped five times on the zero button.

0-0-0-0-0

Nothing except for a loud ERKH when he hit enter.

On a hunch, Frank tried a few similarly easy-to-remember combinations.

1-1-1-1-1

ERKH

2-2-2-2-2

ERKH

3-3-3-3-3

ERKH

4-4-4-4-4

ERKH

5-5-5-5-5

ERKH

6-6-6-6-6

ERKH

7-7-7-7-7

ERKH

8-8-8-8-8

ERKH

9-9-9-9-9

ERKH

Frank rubbed his face. Usually when he heard a sound that jarring, he was at the shooting range, with ear protection in.

Well, he had nothing better to do.

Or at least, no one to do something better with.

0-0-0-0-1

ERKH

Frank decided to get a chair. An upholstered one. If he was going to be here for a while, he might as well get comfortable.

***

Emma didn’t like the sound of Frank mouthing Christina’s breasts—the actual smacking, slurping physicality of it or Christina’s breathy trills as she enjoyed herself. She began to suck a little herself: first on the flat, hard muscles that seemed to make up Frank’s belly, then on the matted hair that showed the way to his prick, then she was at the tip of lengthy, throbbing erection and she didn’t care if Christina had given it to him, her sister wasn’t woman enough to take care of that weapon.

Wrapping one small hand around the thick base, Emma took Frank into her mouth, her hungry lips quickly sliding down his steely length. Frank groaned into Christina’s breast and Christina let out a pained breath. Emma felt her sister’s eyes on her. She started bobbing her head up and down, stirring her red hair into a storm across Frank’s thighs and stomach.

An explosion shocked Emma out of her stupor. She blinked repeatedly and picked up the remote to pause the TV. She’d been watching an action movie, something loud and mindless, but it ended up being too mindless and not loud enough to drown out her own thoughts…

erkh

What was Frank doing with Christina? Had she gone to him or had he gone to her? It was hard for Emma to picture her sister as a seductress—her husband clearly hadn’t been getting any satisfaction, not that Emma blamed Christina for that… So had Frank sent her some sort of signal? Made some pass, an overture, something that had brought Christina to him the moment Emma was asleep…

erkh

Why her and not Emma? Hadn’t Frank liked having her mouth wrapped around his cock? She’d liked it—as much as a woman could like having a donkey dick in her mouth—did Christina like it more than that? No, that was impossible, the prude… but wasn’t it always the quiet ones? And it had been her and Frank, in the shower, using up each other along with the hot water.

erkh

The TV went into some screensaver mode and in the blackness, Emma saw her reflection. She forced a smile at it. She looked good, didn’t she? Damn good. She was younger than Christina. Maybe not as well-endowed, but Christina was fat, really, with those wide hips… having big tits because you were fat was like having a fast car because you’d driven off a cliff. Everyone knew that.

erkh

Of course, everyone also knew that guys liked fat asses. Frank had certainly seemed to like it as he rutted into it, spanked it, pulled Christina’s hair. She must’ve been satisfied by that; Emma’s big-tit sister. Even if she was a secret slut, she couldn’t be so slutty that she hadn’t ended up totally sated by the time Frank was done with her. So how come Christina deserved to be sexed up? Emma was the one who had sucked him off. Why hadn’t Frank reciprocated? Did he think she wouldn’t let him.

erkh

Oh, that would make perfect sense for this fucked up world where her brother-in-law tried to rape her, her vacation destination got nuked, and public enemy number one saved her life. Now the last man on Earth thought she was a whore, which obviously meant she was too much of a ho to actually sleep with—unlike her sister, the prude, who not only got laid, but she didn’t have to work out because guys liked her fat ass!

erkh

And what was that fucking beeping? Were they running out of air? Was the smoke alarm out of batteries? Wasn’t Christina the responsible one? She should handle it, unless she was too busy—Emma resolved not to think about it and her and him. She would go check on the damn thing herself. It wasn’t like those other two fuckers (Emma hated herself for using that word) knew anything more about this bullshit fallout shelter than she did.

Erkh