Dan and the Bottle Ch. 18

She moaned "Fuck meee..." as she slammed back at him, and he was happy to oblige her, slamming into her with gut wrenching force, the head of his cock banging at the mouth of her cervix as he finally came, releasing a gush of cum deep inside her grasping cunt. He held on to her tightly as he felt his load unleash itself in her.

Joanne wrapped her thighs around Dennis' hips, holding on for dear life as he pounded into her, her arms wrapped around his neck as she moaned almost uncontrollably. She was the youngest of the bunch, barely nineteen, and had lost her virginity a mere three days ago; to a young man who was, in fact, a semi-distant cousin, and that hadn't been very good. He had not really tried to get her warmed up to the act before slamming his cock into her semi-dry; the only saving grace there had been his smaller-than-average size. He'd barely been able to break through her hymen. Now she was finding out what an extra few inches could do.

Charlene came back into the room, trails of semen running down her inner thighs, and set a wine bottle and a tray of mismatched glasses and cups on the low coffee table in the center of the room, where the long forgotten sack of corn muffins sat, pouring herself a small glass and nibbling on a muffin, regaining her strength for round two. She wanted to get seed from all three of these men before the night was over.

It was a wish that came true for her.

John smiled at the memory as he filled out his report; he considered, just for a moment, giving the other four teams a head's up, but then the thought occurred to him that he'd just be spoiling the surprise. He'd left the small village completely worn out, but with a smile on his face that would be hard to remove with a crowbar. His team mates had similar grins, but had agreed with him... to mention what had happened with the young women of the village would risk their girlfriends and Dennis' wife finding out.

He and his two team mates visited two other villages on their trading expedition, and had found much the same conditions at each, trading needles, thread, fabric, seeds, and a number of other things for furs and hides from the local wildlife, scrounged cans of a number of different foods, most of which he knew would be unusable, and a stack of ancient DVDs which the villagers had no idea what to do with.

Their true purpose, of course, was to gather information, and they'd gotten plenty of that, including the locations of nests of raiders and several small, hidden Chinese encampments. Small scouting patrols would confirm these within the next month.

John Corcoran sat back in the Mayor's office, reviewing the reports that were coming in, marking the locations of the small villages on a large state map pinned to the wall, and wondering whether he should send a few dozen colonists over that way. From what the first team had reported, these villagers were a bit on the xenophobic side... not really surprising, all things considered.

Still, if he sent a small group, with a few wagonloads of food and seed grain, he thought it likely that a small group of 'refugees' would not be turned away... especially if they came in knowing how to fight, how to hunt and trap, and improve the lives of everybody involved. A handful of young people, with all of the tools and equipment necessary to augment the small village, might actually be welcomed. It didn't hurt that by all reports, these villages had plenty of empty houses. The suburb they were living in had, after all, once been home to five hundred times their number, at least.

Jenny Marshall sat in the wagon seat next to her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Mark Hughes, and once again went over the cover story in her head... they were refugees, running from a village that had been decimated by the soldiers, and they were simply looking for land to plant some gardens, a warm house to live in, and good neighbors to trade with. Yes, they knew there was a new war going on, between the Chinese soldiers and some new group, but they wanted no part of it. They had plenty of food for the approaching winter, and plenty of seeds to plant, come springtime, and they carried both bows and crossbows, scrounged from an old 'department' store... so they could hunt. They had all they needed, except for a place to live and maybe a cow or two, to provide them with milk and maybe a bit of beef, eventually. They'd scrounged up gardening tools, so they wouldn't be borrowing anyone else's, and they had nine cages full of chickens and rabbits.

Will and Renee Carlson followed in another wagon, this one, too, loaded down with food packs, several kegs of nails, boxes full of warm winter clothing, and several axes and other gardening tools, along with several fishing rods and tackle boxes and a big box full of spring traps. A box full of plastic jars, full of enough seeds to plant a dozen big gardens as well as six more cages of rabbits and chickens rounded out the load, and there was a goat trailing along behind them, it's homemade harness tied to the back of the wagon.

Now, if only these other villagers didn't turn them away.

Passing through the village John Davidson had told them about, they found themselves surrounded by half a dozen people, some of whom had bows in hand. An old man, who appeared to be the village elder, stepped forward.

"Who are you folks, and what do you want?"

"I'm Mark, an' this here's my girl, Jenny... we're just gettin' away from them soldiers, lookin' for a new place to live. Behind us are Will and Renee... they're from our old village too."

"Uh huh... we've heard that one before. What's in the wagon?"

"Food, clothes, tools, seeds, cookin' tools... got a couple of bows and some arrows, too... just missed a deer, last night. We don't mean no harm to anybody... like I said, we're just lookin' for a new place to call home. Them Chinese soldiers hit our village a few days ago, killed off most of our cows, took a bunch of women, and most of the food we had that wasn't hidden."

Two men were looking over the sides of the wagons, checking out the content. Both turned towards the elder and nodded.

The old man looked to either side, cocking an eyebrow at some of the others in the small group, and saw most of them nodding. These kids seemed pretty harmless.

"Well... we've got a few empty houses, and if you've got anything to trade, we might have a cow for you. Gary, here, will show you which houses are empty, and where we plant and whatnot."

Mark grinned... "Would ten good, new spring traps get me a few cows and the next bull calf that you get?"

The older man looked at him in surprise. "Traps? Hell, ten of those would buy the whole damned herd!"

He didn't mention that the 'herd' in question was less than twenty cows and one aging bull, and four calves, only one of which was a male.

Within a few hours, they were set up in a pair of three bedroom ranch houses; both of which had two fireplaces, a big wood stove, and backed up to a small patch of woods. There were racks built onto the backs of both houses, each of which still held several dozen small logs, and just past the fenceline were several fallen trees, which Mark knew he could get at least a few month's worth of firewood from before they'd have to go off exploring for more.

They thanked the young man who'd brought them to the houses, and asked a few more questions, about where to get water and so forth, and then set about building a fire in one of the hearths and unloading the small wagons, waiting until nobody was looking before digging under the false floorboards for the guns, ammunition, satellite phones, and other gear.

Will Markeson took the call from Mark Hughes with some relief; The kids had gotten a foothold in the small village to the east without incident. His instructions were to do nothing to attract attention for the next six months, at the least, just keep their heads down, plant some crops, and do their best to blend in with the locals... while gathering as much information as they could.

Will took a number of similar calls like this, in the next few weeks, young volunteers who would, eventually, insinuate themselves into small, heretofore overlooked villages all around the free zone, working behind the scenes to bring the occupants around to the ways of the Cavedweller's outlook on life. It wasn't that hard, not really; most of the villagers already did more than their share of trading, back and forth, and had a good idea of the concept of trading value for value. Now it was just a question of getting them on board with the idea of mutual defense.

Jan sat at a table in one of the upper levels of the research base, reading through the notebooks that Jim had found in the safe. These, she knew, were the final key, though she'd need more reference books than she'd brought along to fully decipher them. This was a form of mathematics that was above even her head... and she was a genuine math whiz.

It was at that moment that one of her assistants had rushed into the room, looking for her.

"Ma'am, we found 'em!" He was carrying a small but long wooden case in his hands.

She motioned him over to the lab table and looked carefully at the small crate. The labeling stenciled on the top indicated that it was an 'Electric Rifle, type III, Mk VI".

Flipping open the lid, she found herself looking at something that looked like it belonged in a bad science fiction movie from back before the war. The stock was some form of polymer, and most of the long weapon seemed to be some form of carbon-fiber material. The barrel itself was some sort of tempered glass or crystal, carefully formed into a thick octagon two and a half feet long, encased in black carbon fiber rings that were tied together with long flat rods made from the same material. There were several switches and dials on one side of the plastic housing, one of which was labeled 'S-BU-BE'; one of the dials was obviously a range selector, with increments clearly marked as '50/100/500', and a switch marked 'RE/CH'. The power cell plugged into the base of the light rifle was clearly marked, as well... '750V, 12.25M A'. The entire weapon was barely four feet long, and weighed about half as much as a loaded M-16. A user's guide was conveniently clipped into the inside of the lid of the case.

She leafed through it quickly, learning that the 'RE/CH' meant 'Ready/Charge', 'S/BU/BE' stood for 'Safe/Burst'/Beam' fire, and the numbers meant different ranges, in yard increments. A digital counter on the opposite side indicated the amount of charge left, by percentages. Each of the power cells packed 750 volts and over 12 million amps.

"How many of these did you find?"

"We aren't sure yet, Ma'am... Sergaent Stone counted fifty on the one shelf... and there are at least eighty shelves down there. Some of those appear to contain extra power cells and charging stations."

"Have any of these been test fired yet?"

"Your husband is waiting until you're done, Ma'am. He said he wants to take it outside before test firing it."

She nodded... that would likely be wise; they had no idea how powerful these things might be, so better safe than sorry. If they were what they thought they were, one beam could easily drill a hole through the wall... and at this level, they might be well below the local water table.

"Is there anything else I should know about?"

The younger man nodded.

"It appears that this isn't all they were working on, Ma'am. On the very bottom levels are several prototypes that don't appear to work... Professor Ernesto thinks they're... well... he thinks they're some form of plasma weapon, Ma'am."

She cocked an eyebrow at that one. "Sounds like something out of an old pre war video game."

The young man grinned. "That's pretty much what he said, Ma'am."

Then his expression sobered. "There's more, Ma'am... the geothermal power that runs this complex, well, it wasn't sufficient to run the charging stations for these things. They ran from a seperate generator."

She nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"We found that, too... it's a nuclear reactor. About half the size of this room. And it's still online. It was in a stand by mode when we found it."

"So it's not likely that we could relocate this lab to one of our bases."

"No, Ma'am."

"Has my husband been informed of this?"

"Yes, Ma'am... he said he wanted to talk to you and the other techs about who to bring out here, to establish this as another base. I think he wants to move about a company-sized unit here, to guard the facility, plus as many techs as you and the professor deem necessary."

Later that morning, Jan and Jim, with the other technician/researchers in tow, went up and out of the facility, taking along three of the 'electric rifles' for testing.

The 'burst' setting was just that... a three 'round' burst of half a foot long trails of a reddish light, which burned their way through anything in their path. On the 'beam' setting, the rifle would fire a long beam of intense red light as long as the trigger was held back... melting it's way through the engine block of an old car in the process... and continuing on, to light up a large tree beyond the old Plymouth that was the initial target, to boot. Of the old car, well... it was more a pile of molten metal than anything else.

Within three weeks, Frank Bergen had moved a construction crew in, and they had repaired damage at over a thousand homes in an adjacent suburb, gotten seventy acres ready for planting, cleared an area for a communal compost pile, (which someone on the crew labled the 'shit pit' during a long night of Caved brewed beer, whiskey, and many doobies), and had modified a long, straight stretch of road into a landing strip, adapting several old warehouses as hangers for air support. Fifteen hundred volunteers moved into the area, an old grocery store was restored and put back to use, and supplies rolled in by the truckload, and an area that had been devoid of human life was once again a thriving community.

Within another three months, they had two hundred troops trained in the use of the 'electric rifles'- which they took to calling 'lasers', for lack of a better term- and this new development was, basically, an open secret amongst the Militia troops.

They also tied the local community into the small nuclear reactor at the base, ensuring electrical power until they could build up a system of solar and wind generators.

Mickey Miller was getting better with each passing day, to the point that Doris and Cassie were beginning to worry... he was making noise about wanting to get back out in the field.

Already, he was spending time at the target range at least twice a week, and Phil Huett was startled to find out how much progress he'd made. Where he'd been a mediocre shot before the last battle, he was now shooting a much lighter .220 swift rifle at the five hundred yard range... and doing it well.

He had also progressed from walking a few hundred yards at a time to going for five mile runs and ten mile bike rides. They left him out of breath for a few minutes, and he usually had to stop a few times to catch his breath, but his doctor was impressed, nonetheless. His ribs and sternum had healed completely, according to the X-rays, and finally he was given a clean bill of health to return to active duty.

Jeff O'Neil was making similar progress, which worried his own two lovers tremendously. BJ and Missy, while delighted to have their man back, couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Both were afraid the next time it might be more permanent.

He, of course, scoffed at this, telling them both that he was 'too ornery' to be killed. He assured them both that he was going to die in bed, making love to one or both of them, and telling them both not to worry so much.

Jim settled in behind the wheel of his ancestor's favorite car, marveling at the feeling of power rumbling through the gas pedal to his foot, the big 454 Chevy engine growling to be unleashed. He slid the shifter into first gear, intent on trying out the new roads that Bergen's crews had worked on all of the previous summer and fall. The route he'd chosen would take him from the Cave to the research base, about two hundred and twenty miles away. He had an additional twenty gallons of fuel in 'Jerry' cans, strapped down in the Chevelle's trunk, not knowing what kind of range he could get out of the big engine.

He had no idea that this car didn't need to be refueled... ever.

When he arrived at the new base, a shade over two hours later, he was startled to see that the gas gauge still read full.

Somewhere, a Djinn, once known to his great grandfather as DJ, smiled. He was, of course, on a different assignment entirely, in an old section of eastern europe once known as Poland, assigned to a young girl. His Master had assigned him to her out of pity, considering the circumstances of her life in the age-old farming community. He was happy helping her; her wishes were modest, and more often than not were aimed at improving the living conditions for her entire village. Still, he liked looking in on his old friend's people from time to time, just to see how they fared. He knew now that their destiny was far wider in scope than a small section of their own country.

Sherice Klein sat with her baby on her lap, taking a rest from volunteering in the hospital wing; she'd already done a six hour shift at the accounting rooms, reading over receipts from the grocery store in the Cave and deducting amounts from the accounts of various Cavedwellers. This earned her fifteen credits per hour, a good thing, considering Julie Anne was growing like the proverbial weed. Baby clothes, and clothes for young children, were cheap, of course; the 'thrift shop' that they'd cleaned out a few years ago had contained more clothing than the Cavedwellers would ever likely need, and they had been scrounging clothing for all ages in abandoned buildings and towns ever since. Still, she had to pay for it, just like anything else.

Her husband, George, stood in the serving line, a soup ladle in hand, filling bowls for the women who were still in the hospital recovering from their time as prisoners of the soldiers, and seeing some of the wounds they'd suffered made his blood boil. Abrasions on wrists and ankles were common, from being tied, spread eagle, to beds, sometimes face up, usually face down to facilitate anal sex. Many of the young women had to endure surgery to repair torn rectums, and very few didn't have damage to their vaginal areas as well. He knew the hospital was getting near-daily shipments of antibiotics from the labs, and even then was nearly out of the medicine at any given time. Pain killers were in even shorter supply, and anaesthetics were right behind those.

Mike Clark sat at the controls of the D-12 bulldozer, clearing the stumps from yet another field in the new town, which they hadn't named yet, idly wondering what they'd be growing in this one. This was his third field for the day, and he had two more on his schedule before dinnertime. He'd already worked through lunch, only stopping long enough to unwrap a sandwich and grab a bottle of grape juice from the little cooler he had strapped to the fender of the big machine.

On the edges of the fields he'd already cleared, men with chainsaws were busily carving up the old tree stumps, loading the big chunks of wood into wagons for the short trip to the drying sheds, where they'd be cut into smaller pieces and stacked for the forced hot air drying necessary to turn them into firewood. Nothing would go to waste here.

In a field he'd started in, earlier this morning, he saw two manure spreaders criss-crossing the field, dumping some of the several hundreds of tons of compost they'd shipped in from the Cave and several of the older, more established villages and towns, followed closely by tractors pulling plows that turned the earth in opposite directions. That field would be ready for planting in a few days. It was late in the season, of course, but as rich as this earth was, and considering the tons of compost they were plowing into it, they knew the first crops would grow quickly.