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Those who had eaten were encouraged to move to the second pavilion, which was set up less formally. Whitney turned back up and confiscated one of the tables in that pavilion and she got the people who had eaten to line up and get their shot.Que came to join her as one of the women had moved her on from her serving job. The rest of the team soon found that they were being ousted as the women and some of the men who got the first shots took over feeding their fellow survivors.The men went and shifted the sterilisation booth, the boxes of clean clothes and three yellow cubes to the freighter. They placed the other two yellow cubes and one each of the other cubes on the sides of the road so they were on one corner of an intersection with the pavilions and the other cubes.They shifted the prisoners to the cells on the Striker. They had found that the prisoners were still affected by the drugs so they didn’t give them much trouble when they moved them to the cells. The prisoners all went. She turned on the shower and escaped into the stall, her palms planted against the wall as she lowered her head into the spray. Wet hair hung down around her face like tendrils of midnight. Tears forced their way past her clenched eyelids as she pulled her hands back to her body and touched her swollen nipples, rolling them in gentle twists.She felt like a dark, foreign thing inside her skin. She tried reaching back through herself to a time when her mind had still been flexible, but she couldn't find where it was. Harte would leave town in the morning, and after he was gone for a while – piece by piece – maybe the rest of who she was would come back home. She was trying to hate him for going away. It was supposed to make it easier, she kept rolling back time to the few minutes before when she'd been furiously drumming the pads of her fingers across her clit as she arched forward, waiting to see his desire boil over in an explosion of cum.It was Monday, and like every Monday for the.
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