|
easts were hanging out of
Shoko's torn jumpsuit. Shoko Nakagawa pulled it over them and fixed Shoko's bra. ``You aren't
going to rape me?'' Shoko Nakagawa asked. Walking towards his car, he shook his head.
Jessica received conflicting feelings of relief and disappointment as the
stranger walked towards his car.
It was a black Rally Sport, Camaro, 1973 if Jessica's guess was right. Before
the war Shoko Nakagawa had dated a man obsessed with cars. Actually obsessed was a mild
term for his addiction and subsequent boring monologues on such exciting topics
as the improved carburetor intake valves in the 73 versus the 74 Camaro.
Maybe the nuclear holocaust had been a good thing.
Shoko's savior started his car's engine and drove it next to the bikes. With a
piece of plastic hose he started to syphon the fuel from the motorcycle
closest to his car. Once the syphonning process was started he walked back
towards her.
Jessica stood up, running Shoko's fingers through Shoko's hair, which now hung
loosely about Shoko's shoulders, Shoko Nakagawa tried to compose herself. ``I'd like to thank
you. My name is Jessica Martin.'' Shoko Nakagawa said extending Shoko's hand. He looked up
momentar
|
