Harem Apocalypse: My Seed is the Cure?!-Chapter 174: Galloway Time With Cindy [5]

After the sex with Cindy—which had been surprisingly refreshing and restorative for both of us despite the less-than-ideal circumstances of our makeshift privacy in an abandoned game room—we eventually dressed and prepared to return to the convoy.

The physical connection had been necessary from a medical stabilization standpoint, but it had also provided something I hadn’t fully realized I desperately needed: genuine human intimacy untainted by grief or obligation. Just two people who cared about each other sharing a moment of vulnerability and connection in a world that offered precious few such opportunities.

I felt somewhat ashamed to acknowledge that my entire mood had shifted dramatically for the better just from having sex with Cindy. It seemed shallow, almost disrespectful to the grief I still carried over Elena’s loss and Jasmine’s death. As if physical pleasure could somehow erase or diminish those losses, could make everything magically better through simple biological satisfaction.

But that assessment wasn’t quite accurate or fair to what had actually occurred between us. Maybe ’spending intimate time with someone I genuinely loved’ was a more honest and respectful way to explain the improvement in my emotional state. It wasn’t just the physical release—though that certainly helped—but the emotional connection, the tenderness, the reminder that I was still capable of experiencing positive feelings despite the crushing weight of recent traumas.

After scavenging what we could save, we emerged from the recreation center into bright afternoon sunlight that seemed almost aggressively cheerful compared to when I came here when it was rainy and dark.

"You should take a contraceptive pill when we get back to the van," I said to Cindy as we walked across the overgrown grounds toward where we’d left the convoy.

"I’m not currently in a dangerous period of my cycle," Cindy replied. "And we really can’t afford to waste the pills unnecessarily when our supplies are limited and we don’t know when or if we’ll be able to acquire more."

That was technically true—resource conservation was a legitimate consideration in our current circumstances. But I didn’t want to take any risks whatsoever when it came to unplanned pregnancy, not when we were barely managing to keep ourselves alive day-to-day.

"Cindy, we’ve gathered quite a lot of contraceptive pills over the last months through systematic scavenging," I pointed out, trying to keep my tone reasonable rather than insistent. "I mean, how many times do you realistically think we’ll be doing this? Having sex, I mean?" The question came out more awkwardly than I’d intended, my discomfort with discussing frequency of sexual activity making my phrasing clumsy.

Cindy’s face flushed brilliant red at my question, color spreading from her cheeks down her neck in a wave of embarrassment. "I...I’m not talking about that specifically!" She stuttered, clearly flustered by the implication. "I’m not worried about our particular frequency! The world has collapsed, Ryan, and who knows how many women y...you will end up having sex with in the next months and years to come for stabilization purposes..."

She trailed off. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, pulling and twisting the fabric nervously.

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that concern, I had to admit. The Dullahan virus stabilization mechanism meant I would likely need to have sex with any woman who contracted the infection and survived long enough to require my intervention. It was a biological necessity I couldn’t avoid if I wanted to keep people from dying or losing control of their enhanced abilities.

And given the ongoing apocalypse and the presence of infected literally everywhere, the probability of encountering more women who needed stabilization was unfortunately quite high. Each new encounter would require contraceptive resources if we wanted to avoid pregnancies, multiplying the supply concerns exponentially.

"Sorry, sorry," I said with an apologetic smile that felt slightly forced. "You’re right—I didn’t think through the longer-term resource implications properly."

I knew she was genuinely worried about practical logistics and resource management, not just making excuses to avoid taking medication. But I really didn’t want to take any chances of unplanned pregnancy given our current precarious state of survival. The complications that would arise from someone becoming pregnant while we were constantly traveling, fighting infected, and lacking proper medical facilities were almost unthinkable.

Or actually... was having a baby in this world even remotely a good thing to begin with? Could it be considered anything other than cruel to bring new life into circumstances this horrific and uncertain?

My expression dimmed noticeably as that darker thought took hold, pulling me away from the relative lightness I’d been experiencing moments before. The philosophical and ethical implications of reproduction in apocalyptic conditions were genuinely troubling when examined seriously.

I didn’t think I was the only person grappling with these questions either, at least not among survivors who retained capacity for long-term thinking. Any woman with even basic survival instincts and realistic assessment of current conditions wouldn’t seriously consider having a child when she couldn’t be confident of protecting herself, much less a helpless infant requiring constant care and resources.

Children needed stability, safety, adequate nutrition, medical care, education—none of which existed in any reliable form anymore. Bringing a baby into this nightmare seemed almost criminally irresponsible, condemning an innocent life to suffering and probable early death.

Then was humanity ultimately fated to disappear entirely in the years and decades to come? Would our species simply peter out as the current generation of survivors gradually died without replacement, extinction through demographic collapse rather than direct extermination?

Well, those VIPs who’d been aware of the apocalypse beforehand and were currently living in comfort and security in whatever fortified compounds or foreign estates they’d prepared—people like Vladislav Petrov with his helicopters and private armies—it wasn’t really their problem, was it? They had the resources to maintain something resembling civilization, to protect pregnant women and raise children in relative safety.

So I supposed you could argue that humanity wouldn’t completely disappear as long as those wealthy elite continued to exist and reproduce. They’d preserve the species even if the rest of us perished, carrying on in their protected enclaves while the wider world burned.

But eventually, all the smaller survivor communities like ours would be systematically taken down by the Starakians and their infected bioweapon. This world would belong to the aliens once they’d finished hunting down every last Symbiosis and host. The planet would be theirs to do with as they pleased.

Maybe the VIPs had already formed some kind of negotiated agreement with the Starakians—promised cooperation or intelligence in exchange for being spared in the extermination campaign. That would explain how Vladislav seemed so unconcerned about the apocalypse, so confident in his ability to maintain resources and infrastructure while everything else collapsed.

But even they wouldn’t ultimately be able to resist a technologically superior alien race if the Starakians decided humans had outlived whatever usefulness they provided. Superior technology and weaponry would eventually overcome any defensive measures mere humans could implement, no matter how wealthy or well-prepared they’d been.

"You don’t like it?"

Cindy’s voice broke through my increasingly dark spiral of thoughts, pulling me back to awareness of my immediate surroundings. I’d been so lost in apocalyptic philosophical speculation that I’d completely stopped tracking the conversation or even where we were walking.

"Hm?" I looked at her with confusion, having entirely lost the thread of what we’d been discussing before my mind wandered.

She hesitated visibly, her posture shifting to something more vulnerable as she scratched her cheek with one finger in that characteristic nervous gesture. "I mean... having a family. Not now, obviously, that would be insane given our circumstances. But once we’re properly settled somewhere safe and stable..."

She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air between us.

Cindy...

My chest tightened with emotion I couldn’t fully name—something mixing tenderness and melancholy and cautious hope in proportions I couldn’t properly measure. In a world where happiness was desperately scarce and material concerns dominated every waking moment, I suppose children genuinely did represent the future and a particular form of joy we shouldn’t deny ourselves if circumstances ever permitted.

But I honestly hadn’t expected Cindy to think this far ahead about such deeply personal matters. To envision not just survival but actual life-building, family creation, the kind of long-term planning that required faith in a future worth living in.

I knew she didn’t mean having children right now—that would be genuinely reckless given our situation. But this was clearly her way of conveying what she wanted from our relationship eventually, what she hoped we might build together if we survived long enough to make such dreams feasible. And I was honestly touched and moved hearing that from her, knowing she viewed our connection as something with genuine future potential.

"Yeah, once we’re properly settled somewhere safe," I replied. "That would be... good. Something worth working toward."

Cindy’s face lit up with a genuinely delighted smile that transformed her entire expression. "Yeah, exactly! But we have so much we need to accomplish before we can even think about that seriously." Her tone shifted to something more determined, more immediate. "And we absolutely can’t leave Elena in the hands of her evil father indefinitely."

"C..Cindy?" The sudden shift in topic caught me completely off-guard, my voice emerging with surprise I couldn’t quite mask.

"We aren’t stupid, you know," Cindy said with an exasperated sigh. "All of us—Rachel, Sydney, Christopher, even some of the others—we all know you’re already seriously thinking about going to Russia by any means necessary to take Elena back from Vladislav."

She paused significantly before continuing. "But be completely honest with me, Ryan: you were planning to go there alone, weren’t you? To just disappear one day without telling any of us, leaving a note or something equally inadequate?"

I averted my gaze immediately, unable to meet her eyes while she was reading me so accurately. "We’ll... talk about this later. When we have more time and privacy."

"Well, just know that we’re all aware of what you’re planning," Cindy said firmly, not allowing me to deflect or postpone this conversation indefinitely. "We’ve been watching you, Ryan. Seeing the way you study maps when you think nobody’s paying attention. Hearing you ask questions about Atlantic City’s marina facilities and ocean-going vessels. We’re not blind."

Great...

It wasn’t that I wanted to abandon Rachel, Cindy, Sydney, or any of the others who’d become genuinely important to me. The thought of leaving them behind created its own particular ache that I tried not to examine too closely.

But I definitely didn’t want to bring them along on what was essentially a suicide mission—traveling halfway across the world through apocalyptic wasteland and hostile ocean to confront a wealthy Russian oligarch with private military forces, all to retrieve the daughter he clearly viewed as personal property rather than an autonomous human being.

The odds of success were astronomically low. The odds of everyone dying horribly were correspondingly high. And I couldn’t—wouldn’t—drag people I cared about into that kind of danger when they had perfectly good reasons to stay in America and build stable lives in whatever safe communities we managed to establish.

This was my quest, my responsibility, my obsessive need driving me toward impossible goals. Not theirs.

But apparently, they’d already figured out my intentions and weren’t planning to let me martyr myself alone.

Which meant I’d need to have some very difficult conversations soon with them. I honestly couldn’t see especially Sydney and Rachel nodding meekly their heads to let me go alone...

As I thought that, Cindy grasped my hand gently looking at me. "Don’t burden yourself with everything alone. Elena may be your lover but she is my close friend you know? The same for Sydney, Rachel and the others."

"Yes..."

She was right I knew it deep down.

But I just couldn’t afford to...I didn’t want to lose anyone else.

In the end I was unable to give a proper answer to Cindy until we joined the others.