Dan and the Bottle Ch. 14

They were moving away from him, towards the general direction of the settlement... a scout party.

He drew a bead on the one closest to him, grinning as he muttered under his breath "Not today, boys." and squeezed the trigger, smiling with satisfaction as the enemy soldier's head exploded, showering his two friends with blood, brains, and bits of bone. Just that quick, he shifted his aim, and the black rifle spoke again, and again, and the other two were down as well.

He was just about to pat himself on the back when a shot rang out; the mirror on the truck shattered, cutting him with the flying, broken glass, and he ducked down, looking all around for the source of the shot.

He spotted the rifle first, the light brown wood of the AK-47 contrasting with the dark surroundings as the soldier tried to get a clean shot at him, and he switched the Carbine to three round burst fire, targeting the flat green helmet as soon as he spotted it. He squeezed off the quick burst, hearing the rounds hitting the steel with distinct ringing sounds, and settled back to wait.

Five minutes passed, and he heard no signs of movement, so he worked his way over to the corpses, noting the first three had all been clean kills. He quickly stripped them of their rifles and ammunition, their packs, and their belts, with their sidearms, spare magazines, and several hand grenades.

A little more searching revealed the fourth, and here, he got a bit of a surprise; this one wasn't dead. He couldn't move--his neck had been broken by the force of the bullets hitting his helmet--- but he was definitely alive, and chattering away angrily at the American who had dared to shoot at him and his three buddies.

Mickey quickly marked the location on his handheld GPS unit, stripped this one, too, of arms and supplies, and left him there. If the Base Commander wanted him picked up and brought in for questioning, well and good... if not, he could rot there. Mickey had heard far too many horror stories from Billie Jean, and numerous others, to have the slightest bit of sympathy for these little punks.

Upon getting back to the settlement, he made a bee-line for the barracks, reporting to the duty officer, and was soon brought before the C.O.

Phil Huett, who had taken over the scouting command duties at the small town, looked intensely at Mickey as he questioned him.

"Mr. Miller, why didn't you load up the live one and bring him back with you?"

Mickey shrugged. "I didn't think it would be safe to try to move a man with a broken neck. Besides, back at the Cave, one of my closest friends was raped a bunch of times by those bastards... I can't work up a whole lot of sympathy for 'em, know what I mean? I figured I'd come back here, fill you guys in, let you decide whether to send out an ambulance or let the feral dogs have him."

Phil nodded. "Well, you did well to bring their weapons and supplies back, and marking down the coordinates. We'll send a team out that way, pick him up and maybe bury the others, and clean up the site a little. Thanks for letting me know. Drop off the weapons and whatnot at the armory." he concluded, by way of a dismissal. Before turning away, he picked up the conversation again, however.

"That sounds like some pretty good shooting, Mr. Miller... why aren't you on our sniper teams?"

"Sir, that was close range--less than a hundred and twenty yards or so... and I'm a decent shot at that range. Get out to four, five, six hundred yards... I'm a lousy shot."

"Ah... but you know your limitations. Always a good thing. Carry on, young man."

Mickey did as he was told, dropping off the four rifles and the rest of their supplies, getting the value of the items credited to his account, and headed over to the communal woodpile, dropping off the small truckload of fresh wood and gaining a load of split, dried firewood in return, and was soon back at the house, unloading it into a wheelbarrow and hauling it all back to stack in the racks against the back of the house near the door. He was just finishing up when Doris turned up, just getting home from the school, where she worked, part time, teaching the younger kids to read.

"Oooh! looks like we're set for the winter!"

"Not yet, babe. This load might last into December" he replied, accepting the quick kiss from her.

She got a whiff and stepped back. "Oh! Geez, Mickey! Go take a shower! You're all sweaty!"

He gave her a lewd grin. "You didn't say that the last time I got sweaty near you!"

She had the grace to blush a little. "Last night, you mean?"

He nodded... 'I sweat a lot when I butt fuck you, dear."

"True... but that's a different kind of sweat, baby... and I wasn't exactly dry myself!"

"True. It's your turn to cook tonight, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Haven't a clue what I'm gonna make, though."

"I've got four rabbits in the truck... already skinned and dressed. Caught 'em running out from under the logs I was cuttin' up. I kept the hearts, too, so if you want to use them in the gravy, all we'll need is potatoes."

"No... I'm in the mood for some Alfredo pasta, too. I think I'll debone them, pan fry the meat, and cut it into chunks and add it to the noodles. Do we have any garlic and parmesan left?"

He had to stop and think for a minute.

"I think so... I know I bought a bunch of groceries with the last of my credits back at the Cave, just before we left. So did Cass, come to think of it. The chives in the garden are ready, though. So are a few other spices, come to think of it. The cilantro, the rosemary, and the bay, a few others."

"Speaking of Cassie, where is she? She's usually home before I am."

"Beats me, dear... I think she's working in the canning kitchens today, so there's no telling when she'll get home."

"Ok... well, wanna help me get my truck unloaded? This wood will wait. I picked up something special."

He looked at her quizzically. "Should I be afraid to ask?"

Looking past her, he saw a number of big cardboard boxes in the back of the truck.

"You heard about Mike Dennison's discovery, in that city south of here?"

"Nope... what did he find?"

"A garden supply place."

"Oooookay... what does that mean?" he replied, lifting an eyebrow.

"They brought back a couple of truckloads of hydroponic gear... I used a bunch of credits up... I've got lights, pumps, wave tables, growing medium, timers, the works. We can set it up in the basement, grow things all winter long."

"Ooooh! We can keep a pot crop going year round?"

"We can do more than that... how do fresh strawberries in February sound?"

"Sounds good... tomatoes and peppers would be better, though."

"Oh, Hell, no! Those damned ghost chilies of yours about kill me!"

"Hun, we can always grow some bells, maybe some of those banana peppers. You know you love it when I put those on a pizza."

"Ok, that's true... I wouldn't mind growing some red beans, either."

"Okay, well, let's get it all unloaded, first... no point in gettin' ahead of ourselves."

Dorn sat in the Commander's office, sipping coffee with Colonel Jamison and Captain Sharpe, making his report.

"The bottom line , Gentlemen, is that this one is going to be a major league pain in the ass, even with a force of twenty five hundred shooters. I think we might be better off waiting for some more of our long range patrols to come in... the more people we can bring to bear on this place, the better. If I had my way, we'd go in with at least a four-to-one advantage."

Jamison looked over the large drawing of the base carefully. "Maybe we should just go in with some helicopters, take the whole damned place out at once."

Sharpe shook his head. "Not with two barracks full of American woman prisoners, No Sir. We Always spare them, and liberate them. We've never deliberately killed an American P.O.W., and I refuse to start now."

Jamison held his outrage at being dressed down by a subordinate in check; the look in Sharpe's eyes told him this was one argument he couldn't win, especially considering the answering nod from Dorn. He'd heard of the militia's reputation for freeing prisoners, and he found it admirable. He nodded, again turning his eyes to the large sheet of paper.

"Well... what about just using the choppers on all of these guard towers and a few of these barracks?"

Sharpe looked over the map carefully, but it was just a pretense to gain time to gather his thoughts.

"I'd like to, Sir, but in truth, we don't have enough experienced pilots... and an inexperienced pilot might be tempted to shoot up areas that he shouldn't... or use rockets, sending shrapnel in every direction. No, we're better off going in with ground troops only. By all means, we should probably have a few birds in the air, held way back, just in case they manage to get one or two of those 'Hinds' up... but they'd be back-up only, and even then would have to be our older, more experienced hands. We don't want some kid up there, with too much enthusiasm and not enough restraint."

"Or common sense." Jamison replied, agreeing with Sharpe, much to his own surprise.

"Besides all of that, the kids haven't been on any test flights yet... we don't know how well the simulators have taught them until they solo."

Sharpe nodded, still deep in thought.

Billie Jean and Jeff sat in the front seat of the golf cart, Shandra and Mark Culligan in the back, making their way down to 'their' cove in the lake building. It had been a few weeks since Cassie, Doris, and Mickey had left, and BJ and Jeff were missing their friends. It had been Jeff's idea, to show Shandra and Mark their 'special place'.

Mark, of course, knew of the place; he was Cave born and raised, a descendant of Ron and Marlene Dupree, and had been attracted to Shandra since first seeing her in one of the reading classes he helped to tutor for the incoming villagers. Not many of the women in the Cave shared his nut-brown hue... and he was related to many of those who did.

Jeff carried his fishing rod and a small tackle box, with a small bucket of worms and a folding grill, in the back of the modified golf cart; along with two small coolers and a cargo box that held plastic plates and cups and other utensils.

BJ reached into her shirt pocket, pulling out a small wooden case and a Zippo... flipping back the lid, she selected a fat doobie, lighting up and passing it to Jeff after taking a deep hit. He inhaled sharply, then passed it back to Shandra, over his shoulder.

Shandra took a small hit before passing the joint to Mark; she didn't want to get too buzzed, as it made her horny as hell. By the time the joint was burning itself out in the ashtray, they were pulling up to the entry of the lake building... only to find that someone else had beat them there. There was another of the small, electric carts pulled up by the wide entrance, with a long, low trailer attached.

Walking in and around the shoreline, they spotted the occupants of the other cart, and the reason for the trailer; out on the lake, sixty yards from shore, was a small aluminum jonboat with Jimmy Archer, junior, and Debbie Bergen in it, trolling their way across the lake.

Even as they watched, Jimmy shut down the little electric motor and grabbed for one of the fishing rods, giving it a good hard tug and then reeling furiously. A few moments later, he reeled in a fat bluegill.

While the girls laid out the blankets, Mark and Jeff walked into the trees that ringed the lake, each returning in moments with small handfulls of firewood, pine needles, and dry leaves.

Within a few minutes, the small fire was burning in the ring of stones, plates, utensils, and cups were passed around, filled with fruit juices and a bit of alcohol, another doobie was making the rounds, and Jeff's fishing line was out in the water, though he didn't know that a chubby perch had already stolen his bait. BJ and Shandra were cooking hamburgers on the small folding grill while Jeff dug out the buns and sliced cheese off the small block they'd brought along.

After their lunch, they laid back, talking, smoking and drinking while music came from the small radio/CD player, mostly trying to figure out where they were going to be in a few month's time. Mark was already thinking about the suburb near to Juniper Base; Jeff and BJ, on the other hand, were considering the new town near the Rebel base at Jackson Hole, to be close to Mickey, Cassie, and Doris. Doris had already sent BJ a note, asking her to come down for a visit.

When she mentioned this, she lamented that she missed her old friends. Jeff just grinned.

"You miss the orgies, you mean!"

BJ slapped him playfully on the chest. "What, you don't miss havin' Doris sittin' on your face?"

He grinned back at her. "She is tasty!"

Shandra blushed. She hadn't told anyone about the party they'd had. She shot a look at Mark, who was looking on, wide-eyed. He'd only just met BJ and Jeff, at the third villager-cave party a few days ago, and hadn't really known what to expect. BJ grinned at him.

"Don't look so shocked, honey. Anna told me All about you."

He blushed, though it was a bit hard to tell under his dark skin. Anna Maxwell was a young woman he dated, off and on. She also gave incredible blowjobs.

"What did she tell you?"

"Unh uh... you'll have to ask her. She did say that she thought you'd be attracted to Shandra, here."

Mark blushed again, shooting a look at Shandra, who was looking a bit red in the face herself.

"Well... she wasn't wrong about that."

Shandra looked up at him, wide eyed, and he smiled gently at her, while patting a spot on the blanket next to him; she nodded and moved to join him.

Phil Huett knocked on the door of the old ranch house, the next day, waiting as Mickey and Doris, unbeknownst to him, scrambled to get back into their clothes. As soon as Doris finished buttoning her jeans, Mickey opened the door.

"Captain Huett? What can I do for you?"

"I just dropped by to tell you that my men got out there, to the patch of woods you shot those Chinese at, only to find the area swarming with Chinese. They were looking for their missing patrol. Our people got into a firefight with them, and won... we lost three good men, but no Chinese left the scene alive. The point is, until further notice, that whole area is unsafe. I hope you're done gathering firewood for a while."

"Ouch... okay. Thanks for letting me know. I was going to go back out that way tomorrow. There's a lot of deadfalls out there that are perfect for firewood, and it's a shame to just let it rot. I know that area pretty well."

"I was hoping you'd say that. I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to lead a few patrols out that way. I looked you up, you see, after you left my office yesterday; your instructors agreed with your personal assessment of yourself. They said you have good to excellent close range shooting abilities, fair to poor at longer distances, but your scouting skills... they gave you very high marks. Same thing goes for your woodsman and survival skills. Would you consider leading a team of scouts?"

Mickey rubbed his chin in thought for a moment, shooting a look at Doris, who had an anxious look in her eyes.

"Let me think about that for a day or two, Sir."

Huett nodded. He knew about the living arrangements Mickey had, with the two young women, and he'd heard rumors about what went on behind closed doors here; he would have second thoughts about leaving such an arrangement himself.

Bob Sharpe and Colonel Jamison decided to hold off on attacking the Chinese base for another few months, for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Jamison still had several classes of recruits learning to shoot straight, and he was hoping to include some of his own snipers in the attack. He also wanted to give the ground a chance to dry out and firm up a bit, since they were still in the tail end of fall, and much of the snow was still falling. Early June would be soon enough, he decided.

Sharpe, for his part, was more than willing to go along with the Colonel. A fair number of people had moved down from the Cave, and he knew some of them were pretty fair shots in their own rights.

Quite a few of them made their livings by scrounging the surrounding countryside, digging up pre-war equipment to be refurbished and repurposed.

One in particular, Rory Calhoun, had come back from a small town to the west of them and had immediately gone back out with a flatbed car hauler; he was back, two days later, with an aged, but new appearing, pickup truck on the back. He had found an ancient Dodge dealership, which yielded up half a dozen new/old vehicles, along with a treasure trove of spare parts, tools, and machinery... including the backup generator once used by the old business. From his find he racked up enough credits to claim one of the aged pickups for himself... after it was rebuilt and restored to a running state.

Mark looked deep into Shandra's eyes as they talked in low tones; it turned out they had several common interests, including the guilty pleasure of some of the many hardcore porn movies in the common library of the Cave. Mark, it turned out, was a fan of the movies that featured big-breasted black women; Shandra looked down at her own ample chest and grinned.

"Am I big enough for you?" she asked, with a somewhat shy grin.

He answered her by leaning forward, kissing her gently while reaching up to fondle her right breast under the sweatshirt she wore.

"What do you think, sweety?" he smiled as he caressed her 36DDs.

She returned his kiss, tentatively, while laying a hand on his thigh.

BJ grinned at Jeff. She'd known the two would hit it off. Jeff grinned back at her and pulled his shirt off... then reached for hers, freeing her 34Ds, and pulling her toward him.

Soon her tongue was in his mouth, while his hands were busy with her full breasts and hers were tugging at the button of his shorts.

She reached in and fished out his hardening cock, gently stroking him as he caressed her, then broke the long kiss to bend forward, taking his hardness in her mouth. He trailed one hand down her back and slid it into her gym shorts, finding her nether lips already unfurling, and reached further under her, plunging two fingers inside her already steamy pussy, and began to saw them in and out of her.

Shandra caught sight of the other two out of the corner of her eye and followed suit, unbuttoning the cargo shorts Mark was wearing and reaching inside, grabbing ahold of what turned out to be a substantial piece of meat. Now she understood what BJ had meant when she'd repeated what Anna had told her; Mark Culligan was a little ship with a big whistle.

She felt him grow at her touch, and pulled his hardness out over the top of his underwear and out of his pants, and he sat back, groaning as the cool air hit his exposed pecker. She started to lean down to take him in her mouth, but he pushed her back. She eyed him curiously, and he shook his head.

"Not unless I get to taste you too, babe."

She smiled, leaned back, and unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down and off. Maneuvering around until her neatly trimmed muff was over his face, she bent forward to take his shaft into her mouth, though she couldn't get him all the way in. He began to lap at her open quim like a dog, short, rapid strokes that soon had her running honey, and she plunged down on him, taking most of his nine inch pole before bobbing back up, licking and nibbling as she went.

BJ swallowed hard as Jeff exploded in her mouth, while he massaged her pillowy breasts with both hands, unable to reach anything else from the position they were in. Even as he pumped the last of his cum down her throat, she continued to suck at the head of his cock, which stayed hard long enough for her to shed her gym shorts and plunge her now-dripping cunt down on him, riding him like a stallion.