A Clean Well Lighted Place

I hear you ask, why didn't I just go in with guns blazing? The answer is that I am smart and Ranger disciplined. They had AK47s. So tactically, the odds were on the side of eight shitheads with automatic weapons, not one guy with 15 rounds in a short range pistol. More importantly, I was Eve's last hope. If they killed me they would bury ALL of our bodies in a rain-forest pit; after Eve had undergone hours of unspeakable horror. I wanted to be laid to rest next to my wife, but not THAT way. So, I had to even the odds as much as possible.

In fact, if I was lucky, and if THEY were stupid enough, I might be able to end the game right then and there. But first, I had to master the devil inside me. I had to convince myself that what I was doing was justice. I was a soldier. I had killed plenty of times. But those were all in the heat of combat. It is never easy. But it is something you could do for the right reasons. On the other hand, it takes steady nerves to shoot a sleeping person. There is no honor. There isn't any bravery. It's an execution plain and simple.

I told myself that I was merely eliminating the barriers between me and my beloved and I had zero sympathy for my targets. it was THEIR actions that had brought death to their doorstep. I was nothing more than the agent; there to enact the inevitable price. Above and beyond that though, I was especially hardened to killing THESE men. Since, I was sure that one of them had already raped my wife.

The suppressor dampened the shot. The only sign that my target had passed on to that great Fiesta in the sky was the sudden jerking motion that he made as the 50-caliber bullet hit him in the side. I pivoted to the next guy, who was just starting to wake up from the rather loud "THUMP" of impact. It must have sounded like somebody had dropped a heavy log on the ground next to him.

I was aiming for their bodies. Heads are hard to hit and I didn't want any splatter. But more importantly; a fifty caliber slug will seriously mess you up. The bullet is three times the size of the high velocity 5.56-millimeter round that the M4 fires and they arrive at close to the same muzzle velocity. So, there was no need to be concerned about only wounding the fuckers. If you hit a person in the chest area with a 50-cal, they'll die from sheer hydrostatic shock no matter WHERE you actually hit them.

Better yet, the bullet will continue on into the ground. So, they would still look peaceful, lying there in the dark after the strike. I systematically dispatched four of them that way, silently and without remorse. The guard was next. His death was going to alert the rest, because he was standing in front of the door watching the action and laughing.

All hell broke loose when I pumped a round between his shoulder blades. The hit more-or-less spattered everybody in the hut, which alerted the vaqueros inside to their peril. But, it was pitch dark and totally confusing without night vision. The two guys who were watching the show were stupid enough to come charging out AKs at the ready.

The genius on my right died the same way as his friends. This time it was center mass. The other ducked back behind the wall next to the door. From 400 yards, a high-velocity, fifty caliber bullet will go through tin like it wasn't there; for what it's worth, it will also do the same thing to wood, or plaster. The FLIR showed my target standing back to the wall, right next to the door peeking out the opening. So I aimed and fired at the wall. The FLIR registered a heap of slowly cooling flesh on the floor.

The last guy grabbed the woman he was raping and he dragged her out the door. She was screaming and pleading. He stood there in the open, buck-naked from the waist down, holding a gun to her head. Seriously??!! He must have been at the back of the line when they handed out brains. Seven of his compadres had just died at the hands of an invisible killer, and this moron was standing there in the open waving a gun???!! I was doing humanity a favor by taking him out of the gene-pool

Most of him was shielded by the woman, who thank God, was not Eve. I don't like head shots. They are lower percentage even from such a short distance. Worse, I had no idea if there was anything behind him if I missed. But I had to take the shot. So I slowed my breathing and heart rate and literally blew his head off. There was a lot of screaming coming from inside the hut as I approached. My heart broke at the thought that my precious angel was one of them.

I was still in the skintight tac-suit with my balaclava and my night vision goggles on. As I walked through the door the four frightened people must have thought that they were being invaded by Martians. Eve was tied up next to the wall, screaming and crying like the rest of them. But she was ALIVE. I could see them all very clearly; whereas all they could see was a ghostly shadow. My first thought was to run over and take Eve in my arms but I wanted to give her a second to calm down. So I stood right next to her and said in the gentlest and most soothing tones I could muster, "It's all right Baby. The bad guys are dead."

There was a pregnant pause and Eve looked at me with wonder on her face. She said in a pathetically hopeful voice, "Jonathon?" I said, "Yes my love, I'm here to take you home." I have served with a lot of tough-guys in my time in the Army. But, my Viking Shieldmaiden of a wife prove to me that she was the toughest person I knew. She had been kidnapped, probably raped and certainly abused. But that didn't stop her from saying, in an amazingly calm and ironic tone of voice, "What took you so long???" I laughed. That was the way we always teased each other; and given the situation, it was an incredibly brave and intimate gesture.

There were three women and one man. The man was Dr. Dickbreath. The woman who was being raped was one of the younger nurses; a pretty little thing who was reduced to a blubbering sham of humanity; lying naked in front of the cabin. The other woman was also young and quite lovely. The eight departed Mexican goons had obviously been stocking up for a party. I regretted their grisly demise even less.

I cut Eve's restraints with the KA-BAR and whispered, "Let's go outside." I didn't really need to whisper. Because Dr. Douchebag was making an incredible racket, crying, screaming and begging for mercy. I understood that he was in fear of his life. But it was a particularly unmanly display of groveling. I almost went over to him to gloat. But I knew that I had to disappear without a trace.

I helped Eve to her feet. She was in a lot of pain. Part of it was simply from being tied up for a long period of time. I didn't want to even think about what the other reason might be. I had to lead her out of the hut because she couldn't see anything. Being blindly led in the pitch black might have been frightening for a normal person. But my wife was as trustingly courageous as she was beautiful.

When I got her outside in the firelight I took off the balaclava and goggles. She threw her arms around my neck, plastered herself to me and began just wailing, "Oh my God Jonathon, how did you find us? Where are the people who were holding us!!???" Her body was quivering with the onset of shock. I said with considerable satisfaction, "They have been permanently removed from the equation. Now I need you to be brave for a little while longer, or I am going to be in deep trouble." That quickly brought her back to something resembling her former self.

She was filthy, her golden hair was matted, and she was wearing her normal pair of hiking shorts and her boots. But her blouse had been torn almost completely off her and she was not wearing a bra, so her big gorgeous, breasts were hanging out. I didn't want to speculate about why that was; or I would have had to cut EACH of their cocks off, and stuffed them down their dead throats.

I said, "I've just executed eight Mexicans. Granted it was to save four American lives. But I am a private citizen; and the authorities are going to view my actions as vigilante justice. So nobody can find out who did this. I am going to leave you the knife and my gun;" I unholstered the M9 and handed it to her butt first. It had been made anonymous before I picked it up and Eve is very handy with a pistol. Then I added, "You are going to have to get the other three out of here. There is a little farm road about a mile and a half in that direction." I pointed east. My voice started shaking with emotion as I said. "I know that you can do it my brave wife."

I finished with all of the love and anxiety I had felt over the past 72 hours, "I love you my angel and when I see you next it will be in our happy home. But the sun is coming up soon and I have a long walk." I clutched her to me and we kissed with a passion that was driven by what we had undergone. We would talk about the experience in another time and place. I knew that this dauntless woman wouldn't let us down.

When full daylight arrived, I was still in the rainforest. I had made it past the archeological site but I was still about a half mile from the resort. I might have aroused a bit of suspicion if somebody spotted me strolling along dressed in black tactical gear, carrying a sniper rifle; with a backpack full of 21st Century battlefield electronics. So I was taking my time and being very careful to stay hidden.

I slipped furtively into my hut as the residents were making their way to breakfast. I emerged to join them, 15 minutes later. I was dressed in plaid Bermuda shorts and a garish aloha shirt with a cheap Panama hat. I wanted to look like the biggest gomer in the entire State of Chiapas. I certainly didn't want somebody connecting me with any deadly night-stalker, who might have been operating in the vicinity. After breakfast, I loudly informed everybody that I was going to. "Look at all of that old shit up there on the hill." My aim was to give the impression that I was obnoxiously clueless.

The news travels fast in Mexico; almost like it does in a Wisconsin small town. It was all over the archaeological site when I arrived; everybody from the old ladies selling souvenirs to the guides were talking about it. It seems that a farmer was making his way along a back-road toward El Naranjo when he came upon a bedraggled group of exhausted and filthy Americans. They told him a fantastic story about how their captors had all been killed by an alien creature with strange buggy eyes.

The locals didn't know how one entity could so easily kill eight tough hombres. So, they were willing to buy the rumor of an alien invasion. They said that the leader of the group of captives was a resolute American woman armed with a knife and a gun. She said that she had picked those weapons up from one of their dead captors. I thought, "Good girl Eve!!"

The four captives were being prepped for transport to Bethesda, just for precautionary reasons. The women had all been raped, and the man had broken ribs, a slight skull fracture and his testicles were severely damaged in a beating. The State Department was debriefing them. But none of them saw anything except the alien. Naturally, that story was immediately discounted by the authorities. But they STILL didn't have a better explanation.

It was sensational news because the captives were all part of a humanitarian medical team. The government of Mexico disavowed the actions of "a few rogue citizens." The U.S. government was "reviewing all of its policies with respect to humanitarian aid." In short, it was the usual ass-covering, bureaucratic cluster-fuck, signifying nothing.

I took a leisurely drive back to Killeen. A few additional things were strapped under my Explorer. I handed my brothers the keys. We shook hands and I hopped a flight back to O'Hare. I picked up my car at the long-stay lot and I was back treating patients at the clinic on Monday morning. It had been a short and restful four-day vacation. At least that was my story and I was sticking to it.

Meanwhile, Doris was with Eve in Bethesda. I didn't visit during the time that she was there. The need to run our clinic was my excuse. Both women knew the real reason. I couldn't call attention to myself. If the press EVER found out that I was a former Ranger, they might dig a bit deeper and find eight bodies. I obviously couldn't allow that. The doctors at Bethesda discovered that Eve was in amazing good health, both physically and mentally. I didn't find that remotely astonishing. Eve has always been a very strong woman; capable of making and enforcing intelligent decisions about her life.

From time to time shit will happen. The true measure of a person's mettle is what happens NEXT. Rape is a violation of a woman's soul. Thus, the worst outcome of rape can be the total destruction of her psyche. I knew that my Eve would NOT let the actions of those eight lowlife mother-fuckers do that to her. It wasn't like she was in denial. She knew EXACTLY what had been done to her. She just had too much inner strength and spiritual integrity to let it dictate anything that happened going forward. Instead, she made a conscious life-decision to press-on with undaunted courage.

I was waiting for her in our peaceful house when she got back to Wisconsin. The last time I had seen her, she was frightened, starved and violated. The woman in front of me, had walked through her personal Valley of Death and emerged on the other side steadfast and triumphant. I have known guys who endured similar violence; firefights, or shellings, or IEDs and they always have that haunted look. Eve had none of that. She had suffered far worse. But she looked composed, at peace and radiantly beautiful. Her level of valor was worthy of a medal.

She closed the door, and leaned back against it. She looked around like she was savoring a safe harbor after an exceptionally violent storm. I just stood there while she got her emotions under control. Then she rushed to me, threw her arms around me and hugged me like she would never let me go. I looked down at that tear stained face and we kissed for the first time since our moment in the middle of all that misery. The kiss lasted a long time. I said, "Welcome home my love." She said, "Oh God Jonathon!! I never thought I would see you again!!" Then she dragged me down to an even longer kiss.

I wanted to fuck her so badly that my teeth hurt. But I was intentionally holding back; thinking about what she had endured. Of course she read my mind. She said from down there in the vicinity of my chest, "Did killing those men change you?" I laughed and said, "Those weren't men. They were rabid animals. Knowing what they probably did to you I actually relished every second of it."

She said, with wisdom in every syllable, "I feel exactly the same way. As far as I'm concerned, our love is still pure and untouched. Whatever they did to my body; they never touched me. I was fortified within myself by my love for you and our life together. Every second of that hideous time, I was sheltered behind the adamantine walls of that commitment. I would NEVER let those vile creatures stain the soul that I gave to you."

I looked into her incredible ice blue eyes. They were looking back at me with profound hunger. I actually said it out loud, "Are you sure about this??" She said with loving irony in her voice, "I have never been surer of anything in my life. I need to burn that experience out of me, and you are the only person who can do that. So let's get on with the therapy!!"

She wasn't kidding. The minute we reached our bedroom she just shucked the dress, stepped out of her panties and unsnapped her bra; all of this as she was heading for the bed. At age 38, she was in her prime. She had always been lithe and willowy, with a particularly supple round ass. That ass was swaying bewitchingly as she walked. Her gorgeous back was flawlessly muscled.

She turned and faced me and presented herself, a confident, womanly little smile on her face. She knew how striking she was. Her figure was like an anatomical diagram labeled "female"; with her long waist and taut round hips, her extra-long and beautifully proportioned legs and those gorgeous plump tits with their big pink nipples pointing at me like little fingers. I stood there in shock, as I always do when I see her that way. She was far too beautiful for a small town guy like me. But she was mine and I was never going to let her go.

I gave a growl of admiration, marched over and took her in my arms, fully clothed. We kissed passionately again. Then she leaned back and said, "Aren't you forgetting something?" She gave a pointed look at me standing there in shirt and khakis. She said with a smirk, "You had better take care of that problem fast or I am going to start the festivities without you."

Approximately three seconds later, I was taking her in my arms as we lay naked in our bed. She melted into me with a little moan of satisfaction. It was like she was immersing herself in a healing bath. I slowly stroked her round jutting hip and flanks as she almost purred with pleasure. This was going to be a classic, husband and wife fuck, no tricks, nothing to remind her of the brutality that she had just endured. It would be gentle and loving and slow.

At least that was the CONCEPT. But Eve had other ideas. We kissed lovingly again and I had just started to lay her gently back on the bed, when she gave a strangled cry, sat straight up, turned and slammed me on my back. Then she swung one of those gleaming thighs over me and seated herself with a loud groan. I am ashamed to admit that I took a second to evaluate whether she felt the same as before. I quickly found that she was just as tight, wet and hot as she had always been.

She gave a god-awful cry of need and began pumping her hips at speeds that were practically supersonic. She wasn't kidding. She was obviously boiling the whole experience out of her soul with this act. As she started her back-and-forth motion she threw her head back and just shouted her desire to the beautiful Wisconsin countryside.

The pistoning of her hips was getting me there a lot faster than I wanted to go. Then she made it worse by leaning down and dangling one of those perfect orbs in my face; never stopping the up-and-down motion. I fastened my lips on one of her big hot nipples and she absolutely exploded. She said in a very loud voice, "Ahhhh!! Cumming, Cumming, OH MY GOD I'M CUMMING!!" and she flopped down flat on me while her hips went into overdrive.

I threw my arms around her upper body as she writhed and shrieked with sheer emotion. When she had worked through that monster orgasm, I picked her up and flipped her over on HER back, still rigid as titanium inside her. She said in delighted tones, "Again?!!" I didn't answer her. I dragged her knees up around her shoulders and began to absolutely pound her.

As I worked myself up to a life extinguishing orgasm, the wet slapping sounds were like pistol shots. But she beat me to it. She started grunting, "Uh, Uh, Uh" in machine-gun fashion. Her hips started moving around disjointedly and then she began to make "Unghhhh!!" noises that seemed to come from the very pit of her soul. You could call it an orgasm. But it sounded more like she was being punched in the gut.

The contractions were so powerful that her passage was gripping me like we were welded together.

THAT sensation made me cum like the Midnight Express. It felt like the entire universe contracted to the original point of light that formed the big bang and then disturbing and mysterious things began to happen in my reproductive system. I must have pumped every sperm cell in my body into her. She had been shrieking all the time about me "filling her up" and then she suddenly went limp. She holds her breath when she cums and she had been cumming almost continuously for several minutes.