Twilight

It was over. Sunlight poured down, overwhelmingly bright after the darkness. There was an unnatural silence that chilled even his soul. No sounds of traffic, no babbling of school children, running in packs, only the wind.

He walked through the bodies, strewn where they had been overcome. Their deaths had been horrible ordeals of screaming and convulsions. Japan, and Okinawa had been the targets of a North Korean persistent nerve agent. North Korea was probably a smoldering rubble, as was most of the rest of the world. The strikes had gone on for days. Who started it? He didn't even care.

It was over, but the curse that had kept him alive for centuries allowed him no peace, even now. Mankind had run its course. The predictions of Nostradamus had come to pass. Yet he still lived. Perhaps if he had been in a nuclear firestorm he would have fused with the rest. This was the final irony. Only his kind, the hunters of man, could survive, though their prey had been taken from them.

He stopped in his tracks. His kind? His mind went back through the centuries. A beautiful face came into focus, dark eyes filled with wonder, nights of frenzied couplings, and shared hunts. He knew what he must do.

The streets were filled with cars, smashed together or just frozen in place where their occupants died, trying to get somewhere else, some safe place. He found a three wheeled delivery vehicle. The young woman who had been riding it had left it standing at the curb when she crawled off. It started smoothly, breaking the silence.

He made his way slowly through the silent cars. The guard at the gate of the Air Base did not wave him through. He rode to the control tower overlooking the runway. A squadron of fighters waited ready to carry the battle to the enemy. He ignored them and went to where the light planes of the Aero Club were parked. Breaking into the office, he found the keys for a Cessna 172, grabbed some maps, stuffed them in his rucksack, and walked back out onto the runway apron. He found the preflight list and went through the steps he vaguely remembered from a few lessons 25 years earlier. The magnetos caught, the engine ran up smoothly and he taxied out onto the runway. The tower ignored him as he ran down the strip, launched himself into the sky and turned to a North Northwest heading.

Traffic over Nagasaki was light. The VORTAC had done its job, guiding him over the several hundred miles. He circled and made several attempts lining himself up on the strip and gauging the proper distance and altitude. A bumpy but satisfactory landing would have made his instructor proud. His first solo had little interest to him now.

The metal detector shrieked as he walked through the security area. A wretched figure in the corner feebly lifted its head where it sat slumped in the corner and gurgled at him. The mainland apparently had suffered a different fate than Okinawa. Here biological and chemical agents had been mixed with varying degrees of success. There were probably many like this, in different degrees of death. He stopped and pulled the Heckler and Koch .45 Caliber automatic from a side pocket of his pack, stuck it into his jeans and continued through the terminal.

The riotous scene of Okinawa was magnified one hundred times, here in the streets of the city. Cars, buses, trucks, jumbled together, bodies everywhere. Occasionally, he saw a skulking figure, or small groups. They avoided him for the moment. He spotted the sign for a police station at the end of the block and headed that way. The building was set in a small park. As he approached he heard a scream. A group of four men had a woman bent over the park bench. One had her skirt hiked up and was fucking her from behind, the others were ripping her clothing and fondling her. As he approached, one of these, dressed in a police uniform snarled at him and said,

"Get the fuck out of here." As he rested his hand on his pistol.

He drew the HK and shot him twice in the head. The others stopped what they were doing in shock then bolted. The man with his pants around his ankles tripped and sprawled on the ground. Scrambling, he pulled up his trousers and hobbled away. The woman looked at him, eyes wide like a cornered rabbit, then ran off in the opposite direction, mad with some concocted disease.

The police station had what he was looking for. He pocketed some road maps of the area and went outside to examine the police motorcycle, leaning on its kickstand.

He scavenged a meal of canned beans from a Lawson's and contemplated the maps. The countryside was so different, but he thought he could place where he needed to go.

He rode warily, picking his way through the cars. There would be larger gangs around. There always were. He didn't want to meet any of them unless he chose to and the time was not right. After several hours he recognized a group of mountains in the distance. The lay of the land began to be familiar, though it was overgrown with apartment buildings and areas of stores, where once it had been forest. He should come to a river soon, yes, there it was, channeled in concrete now, but still where it should be. He turned off the highway and found a road leading in the direction of the crest of a small ridgeline. He stopped the bike at the crest, wanting to look out over the small valley beyond. It was no good, the buildings enclosed him on all sides.

He rode down into the valley and made his way by small side streets to a small rise on the other side. One of the side streets ended in a very old, traditional style gate, set in a fortified wall. The clan emblem set into the gate told him what he already knew. He shut down the bike, leaned it on its kickstand and scaled the wall, dropping lightly into the courtyard beyond.

Before him stood an impressive traditional estate house, surrounded by verandas. The courtyard was well tended. The house itself was dark now. He crossed the courtyard quietly, kicked off his shoes, and mounted the ancient wooden steps, placing his feet carefully to avoid any noise. Reaching the shoji, he stopped and listened for any movement inside the house. Hearing nothing, he gently slid the shoji open enough to admit his body. Moving silently through the dark, he stopped occasionally as if testing the air. He didn't pause as he passed any of the screened doorways, as if he somehow knew right where to go. He finally paused in front of one screen, where dim light shown through the screen. Hesitating, his body tense, almost quivering in some excitement, he finally moved the shoji aside.

The light was coming from a single candle set on a family altar. The flickering light showed the walls were mounted with weapons. A huge flamberge was mounted over the altar, along with several katana. He noted the mountings for one were conspicuously empty as he felt its edge laid along his throat.

Keeping the razor edge of the fine old sword against his throat, the figure maneuvered to face him. The candlelight flickered off thick black hair flowing over delicate shoulders covered in a thin layer of silk.. The face was hidden by shadow. Breasts jutted at him covered by the thin fabric, nipples engorged The silk robe was loosely open and he saw the dark bush. Not removing the sword, she moved closer until she was gently rubbing her nipples on his shirt. He looked down into the face he could see at last, her black eyes shining back into his. She grabbed his butt, letting the sword fall to the floor, and ground her omeko into his hardening cock as she stood on her toes to find his lips. He held her close and let her rub herself against him while she undid his jeans and pulled out his cock.

"Ooh, I missed this." she panted, stroking him with her hands and rubbing the head along her pussy. She arched her back, pulled his head to her nipples, and tried to fit his cock into her even in this awkward position. Before she could bend his cock in two, he pulled out, turned her around and walked her over to the wall. She bent over and braced her forearms against the wall as he stuffed his cock into her, gasping as her pussy engulfed him, layers of warmth spreading, sucking him deeper inside her. She was already so wet, he started thrusting immediately, bouncing her head into her forearms.

"Oh…Oh…Oh…OH…OH…OH, kimochi…OH, KIMOCHIII" she gasped in time to the thrusts, pushing off of the wall to bounce her butt against him then relaxing, after an orgasm took her. His thrusting became more insistent as he started to gasp. Realizing he was about to come, she snapped alert, jerked off him, whirled around, and clamped down on his cock with both hands.

"No!" she said, kneeling in front of him and looking into his eyes. She squeezed his cock and touched it gently with the tip of her tongue. When his orgasm retreated, she allowed it to spring upright, tracing the veins on his shaft with the tip of her tongue or licking his sack.

He knew this. She had told him, centuries ago, that his cum was life to her. She said it burned like molten metal inside her. As she took him inside her mouth and began working him as if to suck out his soul, he wondered how he could have ever allowed circumstance to separate them. She had been driven by her own loyalties and he by his duty. But now, as he felt his orgasm rekindling and the cum working its way up, he knew there was nothing left that could separate them.

She felt it coming. In that special bond that linked the two, when his cum flooded her mouth, she came too, a surge of fluid running down her legs. He could clean her up later.