The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two by G. Wells Taylor

steel doors.
An elevator? Behind them the door to the stairs swung open with a
bang. Mr. Jay swung his walking stick and stabbed the buttons on a
steel panel between the doors. The bottom button lit up.
    “Come on, now! Don’t make me a liar,” he said
to the doors, biting his lip and flashing his eyes back the way
they had come. “I just said you were perfect.”
    Dawn panted, her legs were trembling, but
adrenaline surged through her when she heard a voice call down the
hall. “This way…”
    “Don’t worry about them, Dawn.” Mr. Jay had
noticed her eyes growing moist as she looked back the way they had
come. “We simply need the elevator. Whatever our pursuers will do,
they’ll do, if the elevator does not get to us in time. However,
that is only a possible future. Be optimistic.” He smiled
weakly.
    Dawn could not pry her mind from the sound of
heavy footfalls approaching. Then a quiet chime rang and the doors
started sliding apart. Mr. Jay shoved her through and squeezed in
before they finished opening. He pushed a button set in a steel
panel. It had the number one on it. Then he started jabbing
another button that said, “Close Door.”
    Their pursuers sprinted along the hall toward
them. She could feel the vibrations of their approach through her
bare feet.
    Then the doors ground shut. She heard another
voice. “Stop!” There was a hard thud as something hit the closing
door. Dawn grabbed Mr. Jay’s hand when she sensed elevator
dropping.
    A huge grin spread across her friend’s cheeks
and his eyebrows arched.
    Dawn squeaked when the elevator shuddered to
a stop. Mr. Jay grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry so much.” He
straightened his top hat. “We will leave in grand style.”
    The doors opened. With half-closed eyes, Dawn
saw an old couple standing there hand in hand. The man wore a pair
of thick glasses, and the woman had a giant hat. Startled, they
stepped back to let the strange pair out of the elevator.
    Dawn held tight to her friend’s hand as they
crossed a red-carpeted lobby. There was a desk clerk and a couple
of old men reading newspapers by a fireplace. Mr. Jay led her down
three short steps to the sidewalk. He took her to a taxi that
waited at the curb.
    “Six blocks west, please,” Mr. Jay said to
the driver as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Dawn squeezed his
hand until he looked down at her.
    “That was exciting!” he whispered.

    12 – Lots

    Sister Cawood’s tongue snaked over the brown
skin at the nape of the Mormon representative’s neck. The Mormon
did not return the favor, opting instead to kiss the pale flesh
between her breasts. Sister Juanita Powell was an attractive woman
of pre-Change thirty years. Her long black hair, threaded through
with silver fell in ringlets, perfectly framing intense brown eyes.
The couple had become close friends fifty years into the Change
when Karen had attended the San Sebesta Inter-faith Christian
retreat near the rim of the New Mexican Crater. They’d become
lovers three decades later when Powell was assigned to
administrative duties in the Archangel Tower Mormon Offices. The
affair was a close-kept secret—and the orgasms more intense because
of it.
    Powell was in love with Cawood so overlooked
the nun’s interest in men. Cawood loved Powell, but lacked the
courage to tell her the full extent of her interest. Powell was a
lesbian. Cawood’s tastes had yet to be fully defined. There was no
agreement between them, but Cawood knew from their late night talks
that too much information would crush the Mormon. So she lied every
time they met.
    But she depended on Juanita’s insights, and
found the Mormon’s beautiful body responsive to her every touch.
Able’s visit and Cawood’s hangover left her useless for work—half
an hour of staring at her coffee cup said as much. At ten she’d
taken an elevator to the Mormon’s office to talk. Able had dredged
up the past, and Cawood needed a distraction. But Juanita smiled
impishly