Wolf
Ever since the Calamity you have driven to Scotland every year for the Summer. Global warming is gradually retreating (or at least getting no worse) with a decimated population and no more fossil fuels, but Summer is still too hot for you in the South, so you pack up your home and head for the Scottish hills. Your current home is a converted bus. Fully electric all-wheel drive, built back in the 21st Century, and much altered since it took tourists on holiday, you put a lot of money and effort into turning it into a convenient mobile home.
This year, you had decided to explore the West Coast where it was easy to find a secluded place to park up and run free. Now you are on your way back, and in need of a dump and a leg stretch, but reluctant to use the on-board facilities, you stop at what looks like a nice pub with a water wheel generator and charging facilities to top up the batteries. You plug in and head for the bar. It's not polite to use the facilities without buying something. There are no other customers.
After a couple of sips of your pint you follow the directions to the toilets. They are surprisingly clean and the writing on the walls gives you something to look at while you do your business. Apparently, Kirsty has a cunt the size of The Caledonian Canal and Angus has a very small cock.
You abandon the rest of your beer and as you walk back to the camper you see a woman trying the door. You are right behind her with your taser in your hand before she is even aware of you. She seems unfazed at being caught red-handed, however. She is thin and unkempt - one of the tens of thousands of displaced people who survived the Calamity, but lost everything with little or no hope of regaining any kind of 'normal' life.
You automatically reach into your pocket and produce a few coins - maybe she will buy a meal or maybe drugs. You don't really care. You can see the track marks on her arm as she takes them. Then you spot the children - two dirty faces peering round from the back of the camper. She beckons them over and they reluctantly come forward. They are both scrawny to the point of emaciation and very dirty. They have scabs on their knees and elbows and what look like flea bites on their arms. They are not attractive children but there is something about them.
"You like kids," she asks. You turn back to her. "They are grubby but they don't got no disease," she says, and you realise that she is offering them to you for sex. Your first thought is to say No Thanks and leave, but as they stand there, you look into their eyes, and something makes you hesitate. "Is it possible?"
"An hour. Fifty with either one, or both for seventy-five," she says as she sees you hesitate.
"How much to keep them," you ask, wondering if you are making a huge mistake.
She looks nonplussed. "Keep?"
"Yes, Keep. Adopt. Buy. Do you have their paperwork? Birth certificates and such?"
She nods thoughtfully. "You mean like... You would take them?" A greedy look comes in her eyes. They are probably a liability anyway. "Ten grams... Each," she says. She means gold, not the stuff she shoots into her veins.
You would have paid a lot more, but she sees you, an old man and the scruffy converted bus, and makes assumptions. "Show me their papers."
Telling the kids to stay put, she practically runs over to a derelict car on the other side of the car park and soon returns with a battered briefcase. You open it and look inside. You see two folders and the top document in each is a genuine-looking birth certificate (although how would you know?). Joshua Stone, Mother, Audrey Stone, Father unknown. The date of birth made him about six and a half. His sister, Samantha is nearly five. Also in the bag is a battered teddy bear and a rag doll.
"Ten grams," you say and she nods. You turn to the children. "Would you like to come with me," you ask. They both nod, seemingly unconcerned at leaving their mother, if that's who she really was. You have to go into the bus to find the gold and the scales. The one-gram bars are stamped, but you weigh them on the scales and then drop them into a measuring jar so she can check the volume. PC (Post Calamity). This has been the standard way to do deals of any greater value than a few coins. She tucks the gold somewhere in her underwear and walks off without so much as a goodbye to the kids. You scan the car park carefully, suspecting some kind of rip off but it is deserted.
Half an hour later, with the children sitting on the bed at the back out of sight and the batteries fully charged, you glide smoothly out of the car park and set off back the way you came. If anyone is interested, you don't want them following, but the road is almost deserted. You can defend yourself, but you'd rather not have to. After half an hour, you turn off into a side road with grass growing in the middle and then through a broken gate into a weedy field, well out of sight of the road. You press the button to lower the legs and level the bus lifting the wheels off the ground. You extend the sitting area, pull out the awning and set up the barbecue while the two kids watch silently. They have hardly said a word since you first saw them and you begin to wonder if there is a problem.
The electric water heater has been running ever since you left the pub. While the barbecue charcoal is heating up, you set up the outside shower. "Strip," you say, and they obediently take their dirty clothes off. Naked, they are even more scrawny. Sam has scabs on her knees and elbows and Josh has some colourful bruises.
"I'll find you something clean to wear until I can get you some proper clothes," you say as you stuff their rags into a paper sack.
You root around in a locker and dig out some old towels and a couple of T-shirts. Grateful Dead and Jimi Hendrix. When you come back out they are standing hesitantly by the shower. You sit down on a stool. "You first," you say to Josh. He looks at his sister who nods and then he gets under the shower and you wet him down. With limited hot water in the bus tank, navy showers are the rule. You grab a sponge, soap him all over and work some shampoo into his hair. You pay special attention to his cock and his ass, looking for any signs of disease or infection, but thankfully, apart from looking a bit sore, he seems okay.
The scabs on Sam's knees and elbows are superficial and don't seem infected, but her pussy and ass look sore and she winces when you wash between her legs, but she says nothing. When you finish, you wrap her in a towel. Outside, her brother has discarded his towel and is running around naked chasing butterflies. Sam follows suit and you sit on the stool to watch the children playing.
The bread is several days old, but your freezer is well stocked with meat from the farm where you last camped. The burgers and the squares of Scotch sausage meat are even made (mostly) with real meat. You look at the skinny kids and add extra. You keep them naked while they eat, knowing that a good deal of grease and tomato sauce will not make it into their mouths and when they have eaten their fill, you ask them to tell you about themselves.
After a resounding burp, Josh tells you pretty much what you had expected. Their father buggered off not long after Sam was born and their mother had died of the sickness. The woman you had bought them off had been part of a gang of thieves that wanted them for posting through windows. The leader of the gang had a liking for buggering small boys and Josh soon became accustomed to it. One evening, during a drunken party, they decided that it would be fun to get Josh to fuck his sister, then not yet four years old.
They started putting on shows and allowing the paying audience to use the children until the gang broke up and the woman heard of some lawyer in Glasgow who paid good money for 'orphan' kids. A truck driver offered them a lift, but then abandoned them at the pub a week before you turned up and took them off her hands. You wonder how long she will last with all that money in her pocket.
You clean them up again with a wet flannel and give them the T-shirts. Josh gets the Grateful Dead and Sam laughs to see him in what looks like a dress - the first time you heard either of them laugh. You do the washing up and then settle down with a bottle of beer and a pipe.
They are whispering to each other behind the van and you wait patiently until they come and stand in front of you. "Are you gonna fuck us," Josh asks.
You look them up and down, Even cleaned up, they are not all that attractive. Only the eyes had that promise of... Something?