SLOTH
Story by LiveIron on SoFurry
'And'
>Rebecca is heavy.
>"Come on! We have to move!"
>You yank at her arm to little effect. She stares at the ground, leaning on her sword.
>Her clothes are no more torn than before, the scratches and bites from the thralls barely noticeable.
>Grabbing her cheek-fluff and shaking does nothing. Her green eyes bore right through you.
>You begin to cough as the acrid smoke piles up. The thralls stumble about in the haze, hacking and snarling.
>You need to move her now.
>"Rebecca, get up! Give me a sign, or --"
>One of the monsters trips over you with a growl.
>Fuck it.
>You slap the tigress' butt; the sound echoes even through the demonic laughter.
>She bolts upright and snaps to you with a murderous glare.
>At least her eyes aren't glazed over now.
>"Move your ass!" you yell, tugging her arm.
>It works.
>For a bit, at least.
>Rebecca's sword drags behind her as she hobbles along after you.
>You can hear the scrapes slowing in rhythm as you go. You shout at her to keep her going.
>Encouragement. Insults. Threats that you'll slap her ass again.
>It hurts to do so.
>But it keeps her moving. At least for a while.
>She's painfully slow by the time you reach the bottom floor. You curse as the ceiling above you creaks and burns.
>Definitely not normal flames.
>You pull Rebecca into a side room. The rotting books of the small study are already burning, pages curling up in embers.
>You drop the tigress' hand and head to the window; the smoke is starting to get to you.
>Pulling the pin on the charge is tough.
>You almost run into Rebecca after the countdown, barely able to see her.
>She stiffens when the explosive goes off.
>"Move!"
>It's enough to get her out through the remains of the wall.
>Your eyes, your nose, your mouth -- they all burn.
>The two of your stumble out onto the lawn. You only let her hand go when you're both clear of the inferno.
>You cough out a couple black clouds as you look back: the whole mansion is alight, the plume of smoke blotting out the stars.
>You fumble for your keys and curse.
>How the fuck are you gonna get her in the car?
>"Rebecca? Rebecca?"
>The tigress is back down on a knee, staring blankly at the ground.
>Her chest heaves as her body tries to cough.
>You slap her back, and she spits black bile.
>You cringe at the hacking sounds she makes.
>"We need to keep moving," you say, grabbing her hand when she's done.
>She mutters something. Her legs drag in the grass.
>You curse when she goes fully limp.
>"Move, Rebecca! Come on!"
>Her sword is locked in her grip, but she's catatonic otherwise.
>Her blood's still pumping. Your death grip on her wrist tells you that.
>You drop it and run over to the car.
>At this point, it'll be faster.
>The first of the burning thralls arrive as you peel out, spraying gravel behind you.
>They're shambling slowly, flesh and bone crisping before your eyes.
>You swing the back end of the truck around as close to the tigress as you dare.
>"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
>The bed is big, but it's full of equipment. You'll need every inch to hold the tigress.
>You hop in; the loose stuff comes out first.
>Spare batteries, scanning equipment, traps.
>A backboard, an on-site surgeon machine, a mass neutralizer gun.
>Anything and everything that's not bolted down.
>The burning bodies glare at you from the window, inching ever closer.
>They crawl even as they turn to ash.
>You shoot the locking bolts for the radio relay and kick it loose.
>Damn thing didn't work anyway.
>You hop out and blast the closest thralls as you walk to Rebecca.
>You try to ignore the others tumbling from the flaming windows.
>"Rebecca, get up!" you yell, shaking her.
>She's little better than before.
>You curse; her ass is out of reach.
>You look at her breasts, but shake your head. Too easy for her to shred you.
>A fleck of white catches your eye: her tail, laying between her body and her blade.
>You groan.
>This is going to hurt.
>You crouch down on her huge sword, grab her tail, and yank.
>This time she roars.
>You're sent sailing through the air for the third time tonight when she lurches upright.
>The grass offers a better landing than the other two times.
>"Get to the truck!" you yell.
>You're not even back on your feet.
>"Get in the truck!"
>Rebecca's staring at you -- Christ, she flung you far.
>"Move! In the truckbed!"
>It's painfully slow, but she moves.
>Just like you.
>You curse as your ankle lights up in pain -- you knew there'd be consequences.
>But they're what you deserve.
>You limp and shoot, limp and shoot.
>The thralls are starting to get close to the truck now.
>The tigress's tail swishes weakly.
>Limp and shoot, limp and shoot.
>You have to club one with a discarded crowbar when you reach the truck -- no field of fire.
>The bed has trouble closing, but Rebecca's safely inside.
>Burning stumps of arms hammer on the hull while you go to the passenger door.
>You open it and curse.
>"I'm gonna get in so much trouble..." you mutter, looking at the huge blade poking through the passenger seat.
>You hobble around the hood, firing as you go.
>Bodies rain from the building.
>Less look charred now.
>You slam the door shut on one as it grabs for your ankle, snapping it off at the wrist.
>The truck rumbles to life, and the cab fills with an acrid stench.
>You gun it and pop the door, kicking the flailing hand out.
>Great.
>This was a no-smoking car.