Field Survey: Onion Creek Crossing

Cheyla gave a bitter laugh. "Not hardly, darlin'" she said, in her western American twang.

"Well, then, what is your version?" Nadya asked.

"America was a free country. As a matter of fact, tomorrow is our greatest holiday, the day we call 'Independence Day,' July 4th. Sometimes in the old days we stuck our nose in other people's business, from time to time, and usually half of us yelled about it, then threw out the government that had done the nose stickin', and things would go along quietly until the new government stuck its nose into somethin', then the people from the old government would give it another try, until they fucked it up again, and the see-saw reversed itself. At least, that's what my parents tell me, and they don't lie, much."

"Oh, and we didn't have a 'King,' we had a 'President,' and he or she was pretty much usually one of us, or at least acted like it, most of the time."

"And we were minding our own business, for once, when for some reason on June 13, 2031 all of our computers and electrical stuff just stopped working, in the blink of an eye. My father said it was an Ee-yem-pee, and that somebody had set off some nuclear bombs right over our heads, and electric stuff and all our computers weren't going to work anymore. Then a couple dozen million soldiers from your people came scooting in from both oceans, Mexico and from the sky, and pretty much wrapped everything up."

"And our President, not our 'King', tried to make a last stand up here, and that's all I know. Nobody saw her last stand, and the people who've wandered in afterward to see what happened all died. I guess something terrible happened, leastwise, it looks like it, and there you go." There were tears in her eyes.

"And that was the end of the American dream."

Silence descended over both women, and lasted for a lifetime or more. Finally, Nadya spoke.

"There is so much tragedy in the world. It infects us all." Although she didn't say it, she doubted the accuracy of the girl's recitation of events. The JDF was only interested in the pursuit of peace. She looked at Cheyla. The girl's lips were quivering, her cheeks wet with tears. It was the first real emotion Nadya had observed in Cheyla. Her heart breaking with sympathy, Nadya took the girl in her arms.

Cheyla's body shook with the depth of her emotion, sobs breaking the silence. Nadya wondered if this would be the only memorial service for these dead Americans. The girl's body was soft and warm in her arms, and Nadya felt a rush of love for the only person with whom she has shared such a moment, since the deaths of her family.

Cheyla looked up into Nadya's eyes, and by unspoken agreement, by their mutual desire and need, the two women kissed, their lips meeting harshly at first, then their contact softening, their breathing racing, as a fire ignited in them both. Their bodies pressed closer, thin fabric of blouses barely a constraint between them.

Nadya felt Cheyla's hand come to the back of her neck, resting there tentatively, then gradually pressing harder, Cheyla's desire to be closer to another as she reacted to the emotions in her soul. Nadya slipped her arms around Cheyla's slim figure, feeling the girl's body as an organic whole, an organism made of systems animated by human feeling and desire.

"Here?" Nadya gasped, her understanding of what was happening, informed by her early school experiences. Cheyla, unsure of what was transpiring, but quite sure that it was something she wanted, nodded, her eyes providing additional consent to the older Ukrainian. Nadya rapidly unbuttoned Cheyla's blouse, and was pleased to see that Cheyla has nothing further in the way of covering her beauty. Her breasts, like two sweet apples, small but perfectly formed, with even the rosy blush of a ripe apple, her nipples, brown and hard, contrasting with the softness of those feminine globes.

"I must-" Nadya gasped, as Cheyla's arms maternally surrounded Nadya's head, allowing her to suckle, the girl's fingers running through the woman's brunette locks, a contrast to Cheyla's long blonde hair, tousled and sleek. Nadya sucked, first one, then the other nipple into her mouth, the slightly salty taste of sweat, the hard flesh feel of nipple, the softness of female breast her little universe for a moment.

The woman pulled off the girl's shirt, the girl's blouse slipped to the log, heedless of water soaking its arm, mud staining its breast, as electric waves of pleasure radiated from the girl's nipples through her upper body, and in a continuous flow to her pussy, which she recognized even through her pleasant haze, to be moistening, readying her for further ecstasy. It was the first time she had had these feelings from another woman, and they overwhelmed her.

Nadya felt all-powerful, knowing that she had the American girl's orgasmic potential in her hands. She brought her mouth to Cheyla's, and the girl's parted lips gave the Ukrainian a chance to slip her tongue between the two moist, plump lips. The girl sighed, and accepted her invader, submitting herself to the pleasures to be inflicted on her.

Nadya slipped off the log, her khakis and blouse now totally immersed in the quiescent pool. She knelt there, water lapping at her thighs and buttocks, kissing the young girl, still virginal in the face of the horrors witnessed by the occupation. Nadya brought her wet hands to Cheyla's lovely breasts, and caressed and squeezed them, heroin for Nadya's growing addiction.

"Such sweet breasts," she whispered into Cheyla's ear, her breath hot and damp as it raced over Cheyla's cheek. A rosy blush was rising in the girl's chest and cheeks, auguring her excitement.

"Don't stop," Cheyla moaned, and her words would be taken as approval in advance for any action that Nadya might choose to employ in pursuit of the young American girl's ultimate pleasure. Nadya dropped one hand to Cheyla's waist, then hopelessly floundered trying to undo the western girl's belt and jeans. Cheyla giggled, and dropped one of her own hands down to help the woman strip her, a willing accomplice in her own seduction. With a more experienced hand helping, Nadya quickly had the girl's jeans wide open, and grabbed the well-worn denim fabric at her hips, to pull them down and free the girl to experience a full range of pleasures.

Nadya tugged the slim girl's jeans off her thighs, then off her feet, the faded blue fabric dipping into the water, and now quite soaked. The girl was wearing only a thin pair of boy's underpants, the supply of suitable panties long gone in the decades since the war. Nadya raised her eyebrows, as fine lingerie was easy enough to find on the black market in the Joint Democratic Federation. Cheyla shrugged. Boy's underpants were the least of the privation she had experienced.

Nadya hugged Cheyla, whispering in her ear, "You are so beautiful," then knelt between the girl's legs, bringing her face to the opening in the underpants, her fingers gently separating the folds, to expose the girl's plump vulva, and her moist, swelling, red lips. Nayda crooned, "So beautiful, so beautiful," nearly worshipping Cheyla's honeyed slit. Cheyla wanted Nadya close to her pussy, but didn't know how to ask, in her inexperience.

Nadya, however, was determined to bring happiness to the girl, and to herself, and was not slowed by lack of requests. She slipped her index finger through the white fabric opening, tenderly caressing the girl's vertical opening, slippery finger wetly touching each swollen labia, small, fine hairs caressing her in return, swollen clitoris awaiting Nadya's touch, as she slowly moved finger tip down, down toward the girl's ass hole, hesitating at the bottom of her slit, a droplet of viscous fluid coating her finger, Cheyla's excitement made visible.

Then Nadya's finger rose up the other side of Cheyla's slit, on a collision course for her young clitoris, untouched and ready to debut. "Ohhh," Cheyla gasped, her world slowly collapsing into a small circle as her clitoris becomes her focal center for the first time. "Yesssssss," she hissed, not knowing what the right way to do this was, but knowing that what Nadya was doing was close enough.

"Oh, god," Cheyla moaned, as Nadya's strong but gentle fingertip slowly circled her small, pink button. "Yes, yes, oh god, yessss," she hissed once again, her hips both rising and rotating in pleasure. Nadya slowly, gently slipped her already wet finger between Cheyla's swollen cunt lips, sliding deep, deeper inside the girl's hot, humid slit.

"Unnnh, fuck," Cheyla moaned, her eyes beginning to roll back in her head, a wave of unanticipated pleasure drowning her. Nadya spread Cheyla's thighs farther apart, then leaned down, her lips grazing the girl's wet and slick labia, her tongue randomly lapping at the tender and sensitive flesh. Cheyla's hands had an iron grip on Nadya's head, frantically wanting to bring the unbearable agony of ecstasy to a rollicking conclusion, the older woman taking her time to bring the girl there.

As Nadya's lips gently fastened on Cheyla's fragrant and aroused clit, the small pink pearl a treasure nestled inside the sweet oyster of her pussy, Cheyla screamed in ecstasy, her soul, mind and body mounting to heaven like a reverse bungee jump, then slowly sinking back to earth, as Nadya held her place, her nose buried in Cheyla's pubic curls, her face hot and humid from the girl's leaking cunt.

Nadya inhaled the sweet fragrance of the girl's body, as she slowly returned to consciousness and awareness of her surroundings. Just as Nadya lifted her wet face up from Cheyla's pussy, Cheyla slipped backward, and with a squeak, slid backwards into the roiling waters of the river.

"Cheyla!" Nadya screamed, lunging into the water, with her legs still hanging onto the log. She grabbed the girl, who was in no real danger, as, even at its summertime worst, the river is not much of a hazard. With the two women's hands clasped, she yanked Cheyla back to the log, where both women burst out laughing.

"Thank you for saving my life," Cheyla smiled. Nadya demurred.

"The water's not that-" she began.

"I didn't mean that," Cheyla grinned, kissing Nadya passionately. "I didn't know-how did you-it's just so-" Cheyla tried to force at least three sentences through an opening only built for one, and Nadya brought her finger to the girl's lips.

"Hush," she whispered. She paused, and then looked into the girl's blue eyes.

"Did you never do that before?" she asked.

"Not anything close," Cheyla answered. "Girl, I saw fireworks!"

Nadya said, "Females are....very close in Ukraine, these days. We often have a great deal of experience in....loving one another. Our men are....sometimes not so easy to love."

"Didn't you have a man in your country?" Cheyla asked.

"Oh yes, and a family too," Nadya said quickly. "My husband was very sweet, and thoughtful. My daughter, well, she was the most lovely flower in our spring garden. But they are gone. I had been intimate with other girls at school, as have many like me, but when I entered science, I married and settled down."

Nadya looked embarrassed. "You are my first girl...woman, since my school days." Her face reddened slightly, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"You're blushing!" Chelya exclaimed. "It ought to be me blushing, I've never done nothing with nobody! Well, until you," she said.

"No beau?" Nadya asked.

"You mean, a boyfriend? No. Maybe someday though." Cheyla looked thoughtful.

Cheyla gestured. "Do boys in your country do what you did, as well as you did? You know..."

Nadya laughed. "Not in my experience, but perhaps they have better men for that here in America. Are your native American men known for such things?" It was spoken in all innocence, but the atmosphere between the two women became suddenly stormy, a gale bursting on unsuspecting sailors.

"How would I know?" Chelya asked. "They're all dead - you people killed them."

Confused, Nadya stared at the girl, who was scowling now. She had never seen anyone change temperament so quickly.

"I don't understand. You are a native American. How could your men all be dead?"

"Native American? I'm not an Indian, I'm from Montana, and my family was from Ireland originally," Chelya said.

"What is an Indian?" Nadya asked, thoroughly confused now. She thought that perhaps her English was leading her astray. "Do you mean people from India?"

Chelya stared at Nadya. "You don't know what native Americans are? My parents told me about them. They said, when your people defeated us, they rounded 'em up, took 'em away, and nobody ever saw them again." She sat silent, then said, "They didn't do nothing to anybody. They just took 'em. There were rumors they were usin' 'em for experiments." The look of disgust on her face shocked Nadya, more so because the thought repelled her, too.

"I....I was told that those living here are all native Americans. I did not know there was another group known that way. And I don't know about them being taken away." Nadya paused.

Something else the girl said....

"You said, 'when your people defeated us.' What did you mean?"

"I told you before, after the Ee-yem-pee, your soldiers invaded us, killing a lot of Americans. We didn't ask for this," Cheyla said.

"I am so sorry, Cheyla," Nadya said, her voice a whisper. "I didn't believe it, I didn't know."

Bathed in uncomfortable silence, the two women returned to the encampment.

It was two days more before Nadya could take Cheyla aside after the evening meal.

"I am becoming more doubtful of what we do here," Nadya said, her eyes on Chelya's.

"One day in the debris of what had been Los Angeles, before I was assigned to San Francisco, I happened upon the ruins of what appeared to be a school, for lower level children - I believe it was called a kindergarten - a funny name, from the Germanic language. Your language steals words, does it not? In any case, to my findings."

"There was the usual destruction - collapsed brick structure, charring of wooden beams, scattered debris, by this time unrecognizable, other than a few melted and scorched children's toys and stuffed animals. If there had been any bodies there, they were essentially gone, scattered by wind, rain and whatever miserable animals could survive in that environment."

"Miraculously, I found one entire wall, originally white brick, nearly intact and standing. It looked as though it were an exterior wall to the school building, probably to a common room, perhaps for dining or meeting. It presented its face toward what might have been the play area, judging by the twisted and torn metal structures in front of it."

"On the wall, with one exception, were uniform, black blast burns from one of the many low yield nuclear weapons which were used against the army of the King of America. I don't know why it was used in an obviously civilian area - our intent was to free your people, not to murder them - but then, in war, accidents happen. In any case, as I said, the wall was charred with soot, and blistered from heat."

"Except for an outline, a silhouette in white, like a film negative, which I had trouble deciphering at first. But the longer I looked at it, the clearer the picture became. It was an outline of several figures."

"There were two children, throwing a ball to each other, while what appeared to be a young woman, looked on. I was amazed at the sharpness of the figures. I believed I could make out the edges of the little girl's skirt, and the cap on the boy, the ball as it transited from one to the other in the air, even the young woman's pony's tail."

"Do you mean, 'pony tail'?" Cheyla asked.

"Yes, 'pony tail', her hair hanging back behind her, like yours," Nadya said.

"I could only sit down, and catch my breath at the monstrous nature of what I was looking at - but at its beauty, too. Their bodies - and the ball they were playing with, had prevented the charring of the wall, but absorbing the heat themselves, just as film negatives would take up certain chemicals and reject others, creating a picture of sorts. As a scientist - well, it was an amazing phenomenon. But as a mother, it was an appalling horror. The deaths of these innocents, memorialized by the horror that took away their lives. I could only turn my eyes away, but I could never forget, never 'not see' what I had seen."

"Do you think that things like that are uncommon here?" Cheyla said.

Nadya looked at her. Cheyla's expression was at once contemptuous, and pitying. Even after the things that she had seen, Nadya couldn't answer the girl.

"What have we done?" Nadya whispered.

"Please forgive me, Cheyla. I have been told many lies by my masters, and it has been difficult to sort through them. Your words are helping me to understand." The look on Nadya's face was anguished. She had no desire to hurt Cheyla, quite the reverse was the case.

Cheyla looked at Nadya with eyes far older than her age. "My people, the American people, have suffered more than we ever deserved. My parents told me that it used to be routine for America to be first in line to help other countries in need, to give whatever we had to aid the poor and the sick of other countries. Now we are slaves. That doesn't go down our craws very comfortably. In some way, I don't know how, we will get our freedom back."

Nadya had nothing she could say in response to that. She had come to agree with the sentiment, the most subversive thought she had ever had. So, instead she reached up to Cheyla's cheek, soft and smooth, and caressed the girl there with her fingertips, then leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed her cheek. She tasted salty tears.

"You're crying," Nadya marveled. "My love, let me comfort you." Cheyla consented to Nadya's aid, by allowing the older woman to take her hand and lead her to her tent.

Closing the tent flap behind the two, and tying it off, Nadya took Cheyla in her arms, and looked into the blonde American's eyes. "Cheyla, I feel for you something I thought was dead inside me. You are life, you are meaning, you are the only tomorrow I can ever know. I think it is real, this love I feel for you."

Cheyla melted into Nadya, and the two women experienced a sensuous, languid dream, as their rough clothes dissolve into nothingness, and their warm, feminine bodies joined together in the many dances of love possible between two such as they. The evening concluded later on that rough army cot, with murmured endearments from one to the other, and back again, the word "love" featuring itself prominently, and all was peace.

Chapter 7

From: n.omelchenko@jdf.mil

To: polova_kvitka @gmail.com

Sent: 7/27/2051 4:52:16 PM Zulu

Subject: Revelation

My Dear Anya,

The weather is so hot here. Still, it cannot compare to our beloved Ukraine! What I would give for a day of snow!

My "friend" (you will recall the "friends" from upper secondary, and what marvelous friends you and I have been, from time to time), has re-awakened my interest in life, or at least its more sensual aspect. I find myself growing closer to her, but she has also forced me to consider more clearly what has occurred here. Events here on the large scale were not what I was taught they were, according to her accounts, and those events on a personal scale were beyond horrifying. Our reception after the "Peoples Revolution" was not to the joyous, open arms of the citizens, but rather continued sullen insurrection, until entire groups of people, whole cities of people, were 'disappeared'. Rumors among the native Americans, or rather, the defeated American citizens, have it that dozens of millions have been tortured and murdered.

I fear I may be researching the sallow fields of hell here.