Dan and the Bottle Ch. 08

The other soldier walked over to her, unzipped, and drove into her himself, slamming her against the fender of the old truck again and again, then pulling out, appearing to reposition himself, and drove his dick into her ass, eliciting what appeared to be a scream from his young victim.

This apparently didn't sit well with him, as he slapped the back of her head and continued to slam into her. Finally, he pulled out of her, wiped himself off with a piece of cloth, zipped up, and pushed his young victim back towards the field, then the two of them got back in the truck and drove off.

Jim watched all of this in growing horror; when the two men left, one of the older women from the village walked over to the young girl, taking her by the arm and leading her back to one of the cabins, presumably to clean her up and tend to the wounds she'd incurred. Another took up the unconscious older man, carrying him back to another of the dwellings.

He called the council members together on the spot, and as soon as they were together, he recounted what he'd seen.

Doc Martin was the first to speak.

"Well, Jim, I think that settles the question of when we're going out. Those two likely require medical attention.... That girl needs a dose of antibiotics at the very least, not to mention a healthy dose of 'morning after' contraceptives, and from the sound of things, the older gentleman probably needs stitches and antibiotics."

Johnny Corcoran nodded.... "And these'soldiers,' " he said, voice dripping with contempt, "It sounds like they need a healthy dose of lead poisoning.... two rounds to the head."

Jim nodded, but he was frowning. "Ok, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here. I agree, we need to go see to these folks. Hunting down these so-called 'soldiers' will have to wait, though, until we find out where they're based. We need to send out some scouting teams to track them to their base and gather intelligence, see how they have things set up. At this point, we don't even know where they're from."

Gar Davidson nodded in agreement. "I think I know just the people for that. We've got a group of kids who are as good as any... I know my brother, Tommy, has managed to sneak up to a deer in one of our forests and pat it on the ass before it knew he was there."

Jim arched an eyebrow at this. "How is he at tracking?"

"He's not bad.... of course, there's a bit of a difference between tracking a deer in the forest and following the tracks left by a vehicle the size of a Hummer."

Jim nodded, deep in thought. Finally, he replied. "Ok... tell him to assemble a small team; no more than five or six people. Knives and silenced pistols only, and only as a last resort. No contact unless it's unavoidable. We want to gather as much intel as possible before we take these punks out. Particularly the size of the force we're dealing with, and how well they're trained."

Gar nodded. "I already went into one of the warehouses, got out a few of those old handheld radios and some fresh batteries. The Founders were thorough.... they stored the batteries in a storage container that was airtight, in some sort of inert gas environment. They're still holding a full charge. We can give each scouting team a radio, and station someone just inside the Cave tunnel mouth, so if they need help, we can get someone to them quick."

"Good idea.... look through the inventories, locate some nightime camo uniforms, issue them to both the scouting parties and the back up troops. Make sure they remember to use something on their faces to break up their outlines. Night vision gear, too, come to think of it.... hell just tell them to draw whatever they think they'll need. They'll know better than we do."

He then shifted his gaze to Doc Martin. "Doc, I want your medic to go in with a full squad.... fully armed, and I want every member carrying a bag of those food bars. Comes to that, have you got another medic for the other team?"

"We come bearing gifts?" the Doctor quipped, a small grin on his face.

"Exactly.... it looks like these folks haven't had more than one decent meal a day for longer than I want to think about. The bars the bakery has come up with, well... two of them are probably equal to a bowl of chicken soup and a good sandwich. Make sure that they know not to eat too many, or too fast. We don't want to make them sick."

"Ok.... and I know just the guy for team two, I'll tell him to get his gear ready. I'm guessing you want full medical kits, the works, right?"

"Yup. You still have some of that triple-antibiotic ointment, right?"

Martin nodded absentmindely. "Just got a fresh batch from the lab. I'll send a couple of jars with each team."

Sarah Mitchell looked up at this. "We have a couple of thousand packs of dehydrated stuff we can give them... it's getting a bit old, but it's still good. Mostly fruit and vegetables.... "

Jim nodded, but then frowned. "Hold off on that. We don't want to tip our hand to these folks either. I'd rather see them get seeds, so they can be more self sufficient, than to make them dependent on us. Remember the words of the founders... 'A hand up, not a handout'."

Bob Gunderson was just walking out to the outhouse when a voice reached him from the darkness.

"Sir, are you OK?"

He spun around, peering into the dark, trying in vain to determine the source of the disembodied voice.

"Who's there? Who are you?"

Tom Dorn stepped forward, drawing back the veil of black netting that concealed his face. "Don't be alarmed... we're here to help."

"We? Who's we?"

Gunderson's eyes grew wide as seven others stepped forward, moving silently in the darkness. One man stepped forward, looking closely at Gunderson's head wound.

The old man's eyes grew wider still as he realized the strangers were armed, with a type of rifle he hadn't seen in well over sixty years.

"Who.... who are you people?"

The man examining his forehead murmured "Friends. Let's go inside.... it'll be easier to treat your wound with some light."

Donny Jordan, the medic, Tom and Bob stepped inside while the other five members of Dorn's team took up guard positions outside the cabin.

Inside the small cabin were five people, who cringed at the sight of the armed men in the black and grey camo. Bob made a calming gesture, and Tom looked around at them, making eye contact with each one, smiling mildly to show that he and his teammates meant them no harm.

"Evening, folks. We're here to provide your man here some medical attention, nothing more."

The occupants of the cabin appeared to be related; there was an older woman, probably the old man's wife; a younger couple, who looked to be in their late thirties or early forties, and a young boy and girl, who appeared to be in their early teens. All of them were bone thin, almost to the point of fitting the term 'skeletal'.

Tom reached into his pack, producing half a dozen beeswax candles, and set them around the room to give more light.

Donny had Tom hold a flashlight on the old man's wound, pulled several jars from his bag, and went to work, first cleaning the wound with a small patch of cloth soaked in grain alcohol, then rubbing a small amount of antibiotic ointment into it, and finally pulling out a small, curved needle and a short length of sterile thread, telling Gunderson "This is going to hurt a bit, but it will help your cut heal faster."

None of the others moved during the entire process, watching intently as Donny stitched up the cut.

When he was finished, Tom looked around at the occupants of the cabin and said "Are you folks hungry?"

None of the adults said anything, but the young boy nodded.

"Yes, Sir.... there's never enough to eat. The soldiers take most of our food."

Tom smiled and dug into his belt pouch, coming up with a half dozen food bars. Passing them around, he told them "Chew those slowly.... they're heavy on nuts."

The bars, a combination of walnuts, almonds, pecans, peanut butter, and honey and coated in chocolate, were heavy on protein and carbohydrates and would fill their bellies for the evening. Both of the Cavedwellers reached into their belly packs, bringing out small plastic bags of the bars and leaving them on the table.

"Be careful not to eat these too fast, and don't eat too many at once.... they could make you sick if you eat too much at one time, especially if your body's not used to having too much food in it at once."

The old man nodded. "Ok... why are you folks really here? I know it ain't just to take care of my little cut and give us food."

Tom smiled and nodded. "You're right, it's not. We're.... travelers, and we want to know what's going on here. Who are these 'soldiers'?"

The old man gave him a strange look. "Boy, where you been travelin'? Outer space? They're the Chinese army.... invaded the country about the time I was born."

"Didn't people fight back?"

"Fight back? With what? Hell, after the nuke war was over, the 'provisional government' sent out the soldiers and the National Guard to confiscate everyone's guns.... said it was to 'prevent looters'. More like to prevent the looters gettin' shot, from what my daddy told me. Not long after that, the Chinese invaded. Accordin' to my dad, and some of his friends, they musta emptied out their entire country... he said they sent about two hundred million troops. Plus a small army of Cubans and south Americans coming up through Mexico into Texas and Arizona an' whatnot.... hell, we just didn't have enough people."

Tom and Don shared a look; it sounded like something they'd heard their history teachers talk about, when the subject of the aftermath of the nuclear war of the last century was brought up.... but that had been pure conjecture; this was real.

Tom spoke up. "Ok, do they have a base nearby?"

Bob nodded... "About six miles away, west o' here.... but you don't wanna go there."

"Why not?"

"There's probably a hundred troops there. You folks won't stand a chance."

Tom and Don grinned at each other. They'd see about that.

Bill Dennison and his team crept up to the other cabin, which the young girl had been taken to, and peered in through a window to see a dimly lit interior, with a small firepit in the center of the room providing the only light. The three occupants of the one room dwelling were discussing whether to send the girl away for her own protection.

Ducking down, he moved back away from the window, unseen by the occupants of the cabin, pointed to Denny Crenshaw and Dan Bradley, motioning for them to join him, and stepped aroud to the door.

Unveiling his face, he motioned for the others to do the same and knocked on the heavy log door. The door opened slowly, the older man peering out through the crack, asking "Who are you? What do you want?"

Bill stepped up, replying "We're friends, Sir.... may we come in?"

Herb Dixon knew, immediately, that they weren't Chinese... the accent was wrong, and the soldiers never knocked, or asked so politely. He peered at the outlandishly dressed strangers for a moment, noting the fresh, clean clothing, the packs, the belts that seemed to have numerous tools and weapons hanging from them.

"You're dressed like soldiers."

"We're not soldiers.... at least, not the type of punks that attacked your daughter. We're here to help. Dan, here, is a doctor." He said, pointing at Bradley offhandedly.

Herb eyed the three men suspiciously, but stepped aside and waved the three in.

The two women were cowering back against the far wall, looking at the three men in the black uniforms cautiously, poised to run if they had to; they'd had too many encounters with strange men in uniforms.

Dan set down his pack and dug into it, digging out a jar of antibiotic ointment, another jar, filled with grain alcohol and small swatches of cloth, several syringes, two small jars filled with clear liquid, and a roll of bandages.

"Miss, I'd like to examine you, see if you need stitches. Will you allow me to take care of you?"

The young girl shot a nervous look at her mother, who was still eying the strangers suspiciously. Finally, she shrugged and nodded to her daughter.

"Go ahead, Billie Jean.... don't look like you could stop him, no way."

Dan smiled gently at the two women. "Not to worry, Ladies... I'd never use force on a woman. My momma didn't raise me like that. What are your names, by the way? I'd like to be polite about this."

The older woman looked at him like he'd just grown another head, but she answered "I'm Martha, and this here's Billie Jean."

He unscrewed the lid on the alcohol jar, telling the young woman "Ok, Billie Jean, first thing I need is for you to wipe your vagina and anus with several of these wipes.... I need to see if there was any tearing when those losers attacked you."

"What's that they're floatin' in? Water?"

"No, Miss... it's grain alcohol. It'll clean away any blood and leave the area sterile. The best thing would be for you to take that skirt off, so I can get a good look, see if there's been any bleeding."

Billie Jean shot another look at her mother, who nodded.

"Go ahead, child.... he seems like a nice young man, and seems to know what he's doin'."

She nervously peeled off the skirt, leaving her nude from the waist down, and reached into the jar with one hand, grabbed out a patch of the cloth, and spread her legs slightly to wipe herself down. After using two more, she figured she was as clean as she was going to get.

Dan nodded and reached to his belt, grabbing a small flashlight.

"Ok, Martha, could you hold this for me? " he asked, kneeling between the younger woman's still spread legs, looking intently at her nether parts. He saw no wounds, and stood up.

"Okay.... no serious damage to the outside. The last time you urinated, was there any blood in your urine?"

The young woman shot a quizzical look at her mother.

"Good lord, Girl! Was there any blood in your pee?"

"Oh! No, I don't think so."

Dan nodded. "Alright, that's good. I'm going to give you an injection of antibiotics anyway, just to make sure those bastards didn't give you something we can't see, and another to make sure neither of them made you pregnant. Is that ok with you?"

"What's an... injection?"

Dan rolled his eyes for a moment... They really were starting from scratch here. He reached to the table, picked up one of the syringes and the small jar of antibiotic, and said "Medicine, to keep you healthy. If either of those punks gave you any diseases, this will wipe it out."

Billie Jean shot another nervous look at her mother, who nodded.

"Go ahead, child.... if it'll make you feel better, it'll be worth it."

The young woman looked back at Dan and gave him a nervous nod.

He swabbed down a patch of her arm with alcohol, then pulled the lid off the first of the two small jars, drawing a fairly large amount of the fluid into the syringe, found a vein, and injected the clear fluid. Setting it aside, he filled the second syringe from the second small vial and repeated the process.

Bill, meanwhile, was talking in low tones with Herb, getting information on the 'soldiers' who had attacked them.

"Chinese, you say? How long have they been here?"

"Beats me.... longer than I've been alive. They came here back when my granddad was young, took over the country in about a year, if what my dad told me is true. Grandpa didn't have any way to fight 'em off.... the government had already confiscated most of the guns by that time. Now we're stuck with 'em.... nothing we can do about 'em."

"What do they do? I mean, do they patrol regularly, anything like that?"

Herb nodded. "They come around about twice a week, take whatever food they want, that sort of thing, and sometimes drag off some of the younger women, like Billie Jean over there.... we never see them again. There's one, when he comes around, we send the kids running for the woods.... motherfucker likes young kids, if ya know what I mean."

Bill nodded, growing angrier by the minute. He was of the opinion that anyone who would abuse a child in such a fashion deserved to be run through a wood chipper... while he was still alive.

"Ok.... now, tell me... are there any of you men who would be willing to fight, if it came down to it, to drive the Chinese out of our country?"

"I s'pose there are, but to be honest, we ain't fighters, we're just farmers. 'Sides, none of us have got the strength for it. We've been livin' on too little food all our lives. Some of our boys trap, rabbits and whatnot, but it isn't enough to keep the whole village goin'. We lost near to a half dozen people last winter, because we couldn't set aside enough food for the entire winter."

Bill nodded, deep in thought. "Ok. If we could get some food to you folks, do you have any place to hide it, where the soldiers won't find it?"

Herb thought it over for a minute and nodded. "There's a cellar under our common hall... I'm not sure if the Chinese even remember that it's there. They haven't been into it in years. We don't have much in it, just some old broken furniture and whatnot.... I used a bit of that for firewood these past few years. It's pretty dry down there."

Bill nodded again. Depending on how much room was down there, it sounded perfect.

"How much room do you have down there?"

"Probably, oh... half the size of this room. Maybe a bit more."

Bill looked around, mentally gauging the room.... it was perhaps thirty feet long and twenty five feet wide, so the basement was likely three to four hundred square feet.... and that could handle a good bit of their older dehydrated food packs. Five, maybe six storage tubs, plus a few extra tubs of seeds and another one full of bread, which they'd go through in a couple of days. Add in a tub full of butter, eggs, wheat flour, a couple of boxes of yeast packets and maybe a few big jars of home canned stew or chili... enough to fill one of the small trucks, and give him a chance to try his driving skills for the first time. He'd logged a few thousand hours on the simulators, and God only knew how many miles in the old golf carts, but had never actually driven a car.

"What kind of setup do you have, in that 'common hall' of yours, for cooking?"

"We've got a big ol' woodstove.... firebox in the bottom, a fair sized oven above it, and a big cooktop, handles about four big stewpots at once, if we ever had enough food for that many. When the boys come in from a good hunt, we can usually fill about two at a time. The women make corn biscuits in the oven part. Cooked a pretty big turkey in there, once, when one of the kids got lucky with his bow. My granddaddy and a few other men built it, 'bout a hundred years ago, from a bunch o' scrap metal they scrounged up from somewhere or other." This last was said with a bit of pride.

Bill sat back, frowning in thought for a minute.

"Do the soldiers ever come here during the night?"

"Nahhh.... they usually stick to their base after dark. We only see 'em during the day, when we're in the fields."

Joel Martin and Tom Davidson led their teams along the rough 'road'; actually just two ruts left by Hummer tires, until they came within sight of a tall fence with a large gate. There were large wooden towers to either side,each with what appeared to be a good sized searchlight and a heavy machine gun. Pulling an ancient set of night vision goggles from his pack, Tom slipped them on for a better look.

There was a soldier standing in one corner of the tower, some sort of rifle strapped to his back, who appeared to be smoking a cigarette.... not a good idea while on watch. At the outside edge of the platform was a heavy machine gun on what looked like a swivel mount.

They split back into two teams, and each slowly made their way about halfway around the base, noting the thick undergrowth that was grown up all around it, nearly up to the fence itself.