He lay on top of her for a long time afterwards, his head next to hers, feeling
her nuzzle his ear from time to time. A stomach rumbled, he couldn't tell whose,
reminding him of an uncertain future -- where should he look for some food?

She sighed as he pulled his spent cock out of her, and he untangled his legs from
her and sat up on the seat beside her, stroking her arm as he said, "We've got to
drive around. There's nothing to eat around here. You want to sit in front or in
back?"

She thought a moment, and twisted in the seat so he could see her cuffed hands,
her finger pointed towards the front of the car. He picked her up and lifted her
into the front seat, and walked around the floater to get into the driver's seat
next to her. As he started the engine, she nudged him, and made an
incomprehensible gesture with her head.

He turned the engine off. He knew the communication problem was frustrating, and
he wanted to help her out, but he couldn't think even of a category of questions
to ask her. She repeated the gesture, a pleading look in her eyes.

"You want to go back to the pool?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She drew her knees up, struggling to get
her feet up past the dashboard -- probably would have been a lot easier without
her ankles being shackled together -- and straightened her legs upward so that
her feet brushed the top of the windshield. She tapped them against the metal
frame, and twisted in her seat to look towards the back of the floater, doing her
best to repeat the head-gesture again. Finally it clicked.

"Oh, the top! You want me to put the top up. " It should have been obvious. Not
many girls would have wanted to ride around naked in an open convertible,
especially with the kind of nuts that were probably wandering around out there,
spiritual brothers of the owner of this car who'd been about to do God-knows what
to her. David searched the dashboard, thinking he'd probably feel better, too,
with a little protection between him and the outside world. There, that button
there, with the silhouette of an enclosed floater pictured under it. He pushed
it, and an electric motor began whirring as a telescoped metal canopy began
rising from the back, passing over their heads to eventually lock against the top
of the front windshield with a secure-sounding click. A bank of toggles set in
the driver's door raised the windows all around. It began getting warmer
immediately, but the air-conditioner started taking care of that once he had
started the engine.

She grunted again as he put the floater in gear. This time she looked a little
embarrassed. She looked at him as if wanting him to guess what she wanted without
her having to tell him.

"I don't really have anything I could cover you up with. I'd let you have my
shorts, but I can't get them on you. " He hadn't put them back on yet; they lay
wadded up on the floor in front of the rear seat.

She shook her head. Rising a little off the seat, she put her hands a little
further down behind her butt and tapped her crotch with her index finger. He'd
seen that gesture before. He smiled quizzically. "Yeah, I'd like to do it again,
but. . . " He broke off as she rolled her eyes and glared at him. She tapped her
crotch again, this time following it with a gesture in which she dropped her
fingers downward as she wriggled them.

"Ah. . . oh! You need to. . . " He stopped, now embarrassed himself. He was
starting to get the same feeling in his own bladder, but hadn't given it much
thought yet. He hadn't thought ahead enough to realize his responsibility for her
was going to extend that far. Mentally shrugging, he got out and came around to
her side. The door was locked, of course. All the doors locked automatically when
the engine started, a feature they had started putting in back during the
car-jacking craze of the nineties. He'd forgotten to unlock hers before getting
out. "Can you reach the toggle, there?" She twisted around and unlocked the door
for him, and he lifted her out of the floater and stood her next to it.

He thought for a minute. She was probably going to need to sit down, at least
assuming she didn't want to pee on her feet. He helped her sit, leaning against
the side of the floater. "Do you want me to leave you alone a minute?" She
nodded, and he walked around to the other side of the floater. He let his mind
wander, trying to ignore the depressing scene of charred remains of homes on both
sides of the street, and in a few minutes he walked back around to her.

He could tell she hadn't been able to pee, although the frustration on her face
as she looked up at him told him how much she wanted to. A lifetime of
conditioning can make it nearly impossible to exercise the bodily functions in
any but the socially-approved settings, and she seemed to be having some sort of
block preventing her from peeing as she sat on the ground, outdoors.

"Do you think sitting in another position would help?" She closed her eyes,
obviously wishing she could be anywhere else doing anything else, and responded
at last with the tiniest nod.

He looked around. The only thing she could sit on in anything close to the normal
posture was one of the seats in the floater, and since it wasn't his he wouldn't
really mind, but she probably would have the same amount of trouble trying to pee
on the upholstery as she was having now.

He knew he'd have to create the nearest approximation to a normal situation. He
squatted down and pressed his back hard against the side of the floater, making a
chair out of his legs, then lifted her up to sit on his lap. "Close your eyes.
You're not outside, you're in your bathroom at home, sitting on the pot. " He
almost giggled as he congratulated himself for remembering to leave the seat
down. He decided not to say anymore, not wanting to break the spell. It still
didn't seem to be working.

One last thing to try: he'd heard once it was a little easier to make yourself
pee if you heard some running water. He couldn't have done it, under the
circumstances, if his penis hadn't still been limp after the recent sex, but he
pointed it down and started peeing. At least this'll take care of me, if it
doesn't work for her. As he finished, he could hear the dribbling sound
continuing: it had worked, finally, and she was peeing between his legs. She
sighed as she finished, and twisted in his lap to press her cheek against his.

"You ready to go?" She nodded, and he helped her back into the passenger seat.
She scrunched down so only her head could be seen from outside, and he finally
put the floater in gear and sped off down the street, in a spray of gravel and
charred wood kicked up by the floater's jets.

David wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go, except that he felt he'd have more
luck driving out of town than into it. He wanted to avoid the nearby Interstate;
it was probably clogged with derelict vehicles that the few survivors would be
trying to navigate around, some of them more than a little crazy. He drove
through the neighborhood until he came to a decent-sized boulevard, and turned
south. Downtown was north. At first he had to do a fair amount of weaving around,
picking a path through randomly scattered floaters, some overturned, some burned,
along with a few bodies that by now were starting to smell.

It got easier as he went farther: the city was thinning out. Even the obsolescent
gas stations, rarely used these in these days of fuel cells, at the edge of town
were burned out. They had probably all gone up together as their underground
gasoline tanks ignited. He couldn't have used the gas, but most of the stations
included convenience stores to help them make ends meet, none of which were still
standing. As the last sign of the former civilization faded out of view in his
mirror, David felt mixed relief at not having to look at any more of that, and
uncertainty of where in hell (aptly put) he was going to find what was needed to
support two lives.

By now there were no vehicles, coming, going, or stopped. He wondered how far
he'd have to go before he saw another human.

It was fifteen minutes before he saw the signs for the country store approaching
on his right: Sam's Best Foods, the hand-lettered billboard proclaimed. As he
pulled into the parking-lot, the girl sank further down into the seat, her head
now below the level of the window. David reached into the back for his shorts. It
didn't look like the sort of establishment that catered to the naked.

There were no other cars or floaters parked in front of the store. About fifty
feet away and a little farther back from the road there was a house, an ancient
pick-up truck parked next to it. A bell jingled as David pulled the door to the
store open. There was nobody at the counter in front.

"Hello?" There didn't seem to be anybody inside. He couldn't see why; there
wasn't any visible damage. "Anybody here?"

He waited at the door, uncomfortable at entering an unattended store. Got to
start getting used to this, he told himself. There's a lot fewer people and, he
suspected, a lot fewer rules now.

Speaking of rules: money! What was he going to use? He remembered suddenly seeing
a couple of credit cards in the floater, belonging presumably to its late owner.
He won't miss it, David figured, and anyway he owes me for trying to kill me.

He finally nerved himself to go behind the counter and pick out a paper bag from
a pile of them. First things first, he decided: I'll look around later and see if
they've got anything like bolt-cutters, which looked unlikely, but they needed
food no matter what, and there was certainly plenty of that here.

He realized he'd need to think about what she could eat; she couldn't handle
anything she'd have to chew. And he didn't have any way of cooking anything. He
found himself in front of several shelves full of baby-food, which seemed just
the thing, if she didn't find it too humiliating. She was probably getting too
hungry to care by now. He filled half the bag with tiny bottles in all the
flavors he could find. For himself he settled on a couple of bottles of Planter's
Peanuts, a couple of loaves of bread, and filled the rest of the bag with an
assortment of fresh fruit. On his way out he saw some enormous bottles of
distilled water, and shifted the bag to his left arm so he could gather up one of
the bottles with the other. That's about it for one load, he thought. Have to put
this out in the floater and come back.

Halfway to the floater, he froze and nearly dropped the bag when a voice from the
direction of the house called out, "You! Hold it right there!"

Turning his head towards the voice, he nearly fainted when he saw a shotgun:
quaint, antique, and pointed straight at his head. The owner of the voice and
shotgun was a grizzled, pot-bellied man looking about seventy: evidently, Sam.
The voice continued on without a waver: "You can just put them things down and
come over here. "

His own voice sounding like the old man's should have, David said, "T - There was
nobody inside. I thought maybe the place was deserted. I - I can pay for this.
Got a credit card in my floater. "

"Don't take credit cards here. Wouldn't take one from a thief anyways. Put that
bag down right where you are," he repeated.

"If I put it down can I go?"

"And sneak back later and try it again? Not on your life. I know what happened in
the city, I seen the cloud. 'Spect I'll see more guys like you. Jail's big enough
for all of ya. Rita?" he bellowed. "Got the Sheriff on the wireless yet?"

"Can't get through," came a voice from inside the house. "Still too much
cracklin'. Phone's still dead too. "

The old man gestured at David with the gun. "You come inside with me then. "

David hesitated with uncertainty. What about the girl? How much more trouble was
he going to be in if they thought he'd kidnapped her? And raped her? God!

He heard the hammer cocked on the gun. Involuntarily his feet started dragging
him towards the old man.

Both their heads turned at a noise from the floater. The top unlatched from the
windshield and started slowly folding itself towards the back.

"Ya got somebody with ya? Let's walk on over there and see. No, wait. Rita!" He
turned towards the house. "Get yer gun! You cover the car while I keep a eye on
this 'un. " A stout old lady emerged from behind the screen door, her own weapon
ready.

David's eye was attracted back to the floater by a movement in the front. The
girl's head appeared from beneath the side door, and slowly, she stood.

David was struck speechless. She was standing upright in front of the seat now,
exposed to mid-thigh, presenting her breasts, her bush to the stunned trio of
onlookers, and she turned slightly sideways now to show off her handcuffs.

David tore his gaze away and glanced at the old man out of the corners of his
eyes. He was staring at her, his jaw hanging open, the muzzle of his forgotten
weapon drooping downward.

He was close enough. David struck outward with his foot into the man's ample
belly, and the man dropped to the ground as his breath whooshed out of him, the
gun falling off to the side as he started coughing. There was a blast from the
porch, followed instantly by a snapping sound as the pellets fired by the gun
whipped past his face.

He shouted, "Get down, now!" as he started sprinting for the floater, knowing
he'd be a difficult target from that distance and glad the barrel wasn't sawed
off. The twin barrels told him she could get one more shot off before reloading.
Possibly Sam might also recover and get to his weapon. David tossed the bag and
bottle into the back as he jumped over the door and settled into the driver's
seat, hearing the tiny bottles scatter as he gunned the engine, ducking down in
the seat as low as he could. As they began moving he heard a second blast, and
the floater shook as the pellets peppered the side. He stuck his head up just
enough to watch where he was going, shaking her shoulder as she lay on her side
next to him. "You okay? Are you hit?" She raised her head and looked up at him,
shaking her head, leaving him wondering which question she was answering. "Are
you okay?" She smiled at him and nodded, and squirmed forward to lay her head in
his lap. He drove down the road, out of range of the firepower behind him now,
absently stroking her hair as his thundering heart gradually slowed.