Raising the Dead... Ch. 10

"What is the password, exactly?" he asks, "Not that I want to ever go in that nightmare room, but we might need to."

"It's, um, 'ELI'," I admit.

There's a pause, "That's not exactly a very secure-"

"I know that, Eli! Hindsight is 20/20!" I shout, maybe to harshly.

"Wait!" I can hear him shift position as he looks through the peephole again, "You said you developed it when we were first dating. Shouldn't the bees be dead by now?"

"Hornets," I have to correct him again, "And no. They're in a form of suspended animation, they'll take a moment to reactivate, and then be good as new. They're also part cybernetic. So that doesn't exactly die."

"Oh, they're robot hornets, too. Outstanding," he continues to be a bit sharp with me, "Any other surprises?"

"I said cyborgs, not robots, Eli. Don't overdramatize it," at least he got the hornets part right that time, "But no, not that I can think of. I think you're up to speed on that one."

He seems to let it go, "I hesitate to ask, but is there anything else in your vault that might help our situation?"

"I don't... hm," I tap might teeth, "Maybe. There might be one thing."

"It's not a bomb, is it?" he asks.

I pause to consider the definitions, "...No. I don't make 'bombs', Eli. Creating a simple explosive isn't exactly a new invention. That wouldn't be scientific progress."

"Is it functionally -like- a bomb, and achieves the same result through a drastically convoluted method?" he rephrases his question.

"...No," I clear my throat, "Look, I'm going to have to go dig through some of my old stuff to see if something will help, so there's no point in nitpicking over what technically constitutes a bomb."

"I would just appreciate it if you didn't do anything that would make the situation worse," he pleads, "Especially for those of us who can't, for example, run from a burning building without incurring the wrath of hostile insects who will leave a bunch of stingers embedded in our genitals."

"Eli, you're being absurd now," I inform him, "I told you, they're hornets, and thus they don't leave their stingers behind and die when they sting you. Only bees do that. Hornets are free to continue living and stinging as many times as they please."

I receive a blank stare through the peephole. It's like he doesn't even care about the entymological specifics.

"Let's just find a solution to all this? We need to stop screwing around, or we're just going to continue to be prisoners in our own home," he says, "Eve is just getting crazier and more aggressive with time, and our situation will not improve until we do something about it."

I nod emphatically, "You're right. I need to take advantage of her being unconscious, and find a way to get leverage on her. Once everyone is free, -then- we can drug her and kill her with a shovel."

"You're not being literal, I hope," he sighs a little.

"It doesn't literally have to be a shovel."

"Look, just put that big brain of yours to work? I'm sure you can figure something," he says, "I can't do anything from in here."

We both sit there silently for a few moments, contemplating the situation.

"Speaking of screwing around, before I go..." I say, suggestively.

"No," he's very terse.

"What I mean, baby, is that, since you pointed out the peephole is rather wide, we could-"

"Improvised glory hole," he jumps in, "No, I got it, hon. Not gonna happen."

"What? Why?!" the madness.

"Aside from how my balls are taxed beyond their limit?" he underestimates himself, "I don't think I can right now, and I really need to save what energy I have for Eve. She's increasingly demanding, and gets upset if I don't cum, like it's an insult to her pride. I don't really want to risk her wrath. For now, I need to save all my cum for her. It's for the best."

"What am I supposed to do?!" I ask, exasperated.

"You have fingers, don't you?" he asks.

This time it's me that gives him the uncomfortable silence.

"Look, once this is over, I'll give both you and Iga a thoroughly hard dicking. I promise," he says, "But for now, let's just focus on the task at hand."

"Okay," I give him one last look through the peephole, before getting up, "I'm going to hold you to that."

...Wait, what did he say about Iga?