No Greater Love

This story is a spin-off of my ongoing "Snugglebunny" series about the life and love of Chris and Chloe Weber. To understand all of the background and context, you will need to check that series out. As the stories are posted under different areas of Literotica, I suggest you check out my profile for links to those. To fit the timeline of those stories, this has been set to take place some time in the future.

The story includes one of the main characters from "An Ounce of Prevention" and "A Pound of Cure" and mentions an incident from "Revenge in Advance: Mona."

For the perfectionists among you, I realize that Special Forces types work in much smaller units than depicted here, so I took a bit of artistic license for the purpose of this story.

Constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. As always, remember this is a work of fiction and not a docu-drama...

June 3, 2036:

Captain Mike Weber, U.S. Army, looked over the rugged terrain he and his men had just cleared of enemy combatants. It was a hard-fought battle against the latest group of radicals, who had apparently taken after their predecessors in ISIS and al-Qaeda. The battle over, he and his men were clearing the area as they prepared to return to their base camp in the Sub-Sahara.

After briefing his battalion commanding officer, Mike was handed a piece of paper by a clerk.

"Congratulations, Captain," the female corporal said. "You and your men just earned a 30-day leave."

"Thanks, Corporal," Mike said, smiling. God knows they had earned it. Reading the orders, which came down from "on high," he noticed that in addition to a 30-day leave, they were to spend an additional 15 days at Fort Benning to regroup, which meant getting replacements for those who had been either killed or otherwise taken out of action.

Moreover, he learned that one of his superiors, Brigadier General David Masters, would temporarily leave the Pentagon and accompany them back in-country to act primarily as an observer. Right, he snorted to himself. The man was just bucking for his second star and probably wanted to finally pin a Combat Infantryman's Badge on his uniform. Fucking politicians in uniform, he thought to himself.

He went back to their area and ordered 1st Sgt. Roberts to assemble the men. A few minutes later, the big man reported back to him.

"The company is assembled, sir," he said. Mike shook his head and walked to the formation as the 1^st Sgt. called them to attention. He performed a smart about face as Mike approached.

"Company present and accounted for, sir," he said. Mike nodded.

"Posts!" Mike ordered. The 1^st Sgt and the other company NCOs turned and took their place as the officers came forward. There were no salutes exchanged as they were still in a combat zone and a salute could instantly alert a sniper looking for a quick kill.

"At ease," he said after the exchange had taken place. The dusty, dirty soldiers relaxed a bit, watching their commanding officer.

"Good news, men," he said. "We've accomplished our mission for now, and the Army has rewarded us with a 30-day leave." He paused as the soldiers exclaimed their appreciation. "After that, it's on to Fort Benning for 15 days with a return trip." There were groans at that bit of news. "So, it's time for us to pack our trash and head out. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning at 0530, immediately after breakfast. That is all." He called the company to attention and ordered the 1^st Sgt to dismiss the troops.

He headed back to his tent and began packing his duffel bag. Sitting down at his field desk, he pulled out his tablet and tried connecting to the secure satellite feed. It was difficult here, as the geography of the area, combined with the minerals in the local rocks, conspired to act as something of a natural jamming device for many of their satellite communications. Video comms were nearly impossible here, but short text messages could usually go through.

He tried contacting Lynette, his wife of three years, but couldn't. So he sent a short text letting her know he would be home on leave in a day or two. His plan was to collect his wife, then go visit his parents in Springfield.

His brother, Brian, had just graduated from West Point and was already home on a short leave, waiting to attend his Basic Officer Leadership course before being transferred to Fort Huachua, Arizona, where he would get advanced training as a military intelligence officer. Mike was the bigger and stronger of the two boys, which came in handy now, but Brian was always the smart one.

It was a bit funny, he thought to himself. While Brian looked up to his big brother and wanted to follow in his footsteps, the truth was that Mike admired his younger sibling for his cunning and his ability to work through a problem.

As kids, they often played "Army" in the woods behind their parent's home. Brian would pretend to scout the area out and get intel on the "enemy," which usually consisted of rocks that were, in their game, really the bad guys. He would sneak out, then later sneak back, giving Mike the layout of the land and a proposed course of action. Mike, being the bigger and stronger of the two, would then go and take the "enemy" out, with Brian providing the necessary backup. He smiled at the memory.

"God, I'd love to have Brian with us out here," he said to himself.

Then there was his teenage sister, Marilyn. She would be 15 this month, he thought. Being the baby of the family, and the only girl -- other than his mother, of course, she got away with a lot more than either one of the boys. That might also have been due to the fact that she was the spitting image of her mother at that age and was just as precocious. She was growing into a real beauty and he knew she would become a heart-breaker someday.

"I hope Dad has a good shotgun," he thought to himself.

Of course, he thought of his parents, Chris and Chloe Weber. The two had been married since 2002 and were literally life-long lovers. He never knew a couple who still showed as much passion for each other as his parents. Many times, growing up, he would come home from school to find them in the pool, locked in a tight embrace.

He thought it rather cute that even in their 50s, they chased after each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers in heat. They even sometimes referred to each other as "brother" and "sister," even though they weren't related. He knew the story behind that and thought it was cute, but still found it just a bit strange.

His father, an accomplished photographer who started at the local paper, had many photos published by major news organizations and had won awards for some of his work. He was also a best-selling author, having written several books, including one about a man facing the death penalty after being falsely accused of adultery. He read all of his father's books and was in awe of the man's talent. His mother had become the head nurse in the maternity ward of the local hospital, where she had worked since college.

He also knew that Amy Jenkins, a woman they all knew as "Aunt Amy," would be there with her husband, Dr. Mark Jenkins. Amy really wasn't their blood relative, but was a close friend of their parents, who had unofficially adopted her as their "sister." Amy is the one who told him that he had been conceived at a balcony party in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.

"How do you know that?" he asked her.

"I was there," she said, smiling. "I was also there when Brian was conceived." That, he thought, was "TMI," or too much information, and he never mentioned it again.

His tablet buzzed, letting him know he had a message. Coming back to the present, he read it twice. It was a short response from his wife letting him know she wouldn't be available and would instead be with her boss who was taking a "fact-finding" mission to Europe.

Crap, he thought. Of all the weekends for her to be gone, it had to be this one. This had happened more than once and it was frankly beginning to piss him off. Worse yet, her boss was none other than the aforementioned Brig. General Masters, who always seemed to find the most inopportune times to keep her away from him.

Between trips to various military installations for "inspections," meetings with officials on Capitol Hill or foreign junkets, it seemed she was gone more than she was home. He wished that she would just once tell him she needed to be with her husband. She wasn't in the military, after all, and the general could always pick another personal assistant to arrange his schedule.

He started to wonder if maybe there was more going on than what she let on. He always trusted her, but thinking back, he realized that their time together had been cut very short and their sex lives had almost disappeared since she started working for the general.

She was even gone the night before he left for this deployment, saying the general had an important meeting with a senator who didn't think the Army should be sending troops to this part of Africa. She didn't get back home until about 4:00 am, just in time for him to leave. They briefly kissed as they passed each other on the driveway, and he thought she smelled odd, but he couldn't place it.

"Call me," she said, entering the house. That was it. Not a "love you," or "be careful" or anything. He wondered if she even gave a shit that he was about to be thrust into the latest meat grinder in the seemingly endless war on terror started in 2001.

During this latest deployment, he got a grand total of two letters, three emails and four short text messages. She sent nothing on his birthday, the holidays or their anniversary. The first email said the general was keeping her very busy and it was possible she wouldn't have a lot of time for communications.

"But I still love you and miss you," she wrote.

Yeah, right, he thought. He, on the other hand, sent text messages or emails every day he could, even though he learned not to expect a response. It was hard, but he didn't to even want to think of the possibility that she was cheating. He had seen what that did to other soldiers in the field, and it wasn't pretty.

Now, she was supposedly on some mission with the general. Something didn't sound right. He picked up his tablet. Opening the phone finder application, he punched in his wife's number. In recent years, Congress had passed laws requiring trackers on all civilian mobile phones so they could easily be located and tracked. If the phone was on or its battery was installed, its location could be tracked and recorded by the carrier, which in turn, gave access to Homeland Security and the Defense Department. The idea was to keep track of potential terrorists.

After a few minutes, the finder showed a map with a glowing red dot. He looked and couldn't believe what he was seeing. The dot was about 150 miles east of the Bahamas. What the hell was she doing there? He wasn't stupid, and knew this certainly wasn't the route one would take for an official trip to Europe.

According to the app, that was the last known location of her phone, recorded two days ago. Where the hell was she, and what was she doing? And how the hell was she texting him if her phone hadn't been on for two days?

Looking at her message closely, he saw it came from a special DoD device that had tracking disabled for security reasons. Apparently, the system was forwarding the messages to that device. He texted her back.

"I'm going to visit my folks when I get back whether you're home or not. If they ask where my wife is, I'll just tell them she thought being with General Fuckhead was more important than her husband's family. And why the fuck is your phone stuck east of the Bahamas? Where the hell are you, really?" he asked.

He got a reply back in a couple minutes. Apparently, he struck a nerve.

"It's my job, dammit. Don't know about the phone. Turned it off when it started acting up. Do what you must. I'll be home when I'm home. Tell them whatever you want. Bye," she wrote.

Job, my ass, he thought. For the first time since she took this job, he seriously considered getting a divorce. He didn't need this aggravation. Worse yet, he figured the general might have seen his message. He heard rumors that the general had a way of deliberately putting people who pissed him off in harm's way and wondered if that would be his fate as well.

Still, he had a lot of unanswered questions. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough bandwidth here for him to do much else, but he swore to get some answers when he got home.

He ate dinner, then packed his gear for the next day. He kept thinking about Lynette long after he went to bed that night.

The next day was hectic. After breakfast, the company struck their tents, then packed and loaded their gear in one of the huge transport planes that would carry them home. Once finished, 1^st Sgt Roberts formed the company for a final inspection and accompanied Mike as he went from soldier to soldier, checking them and their equipment over before leaving. These were all professional soldiers, so he knew there would be no issues. But he had to follow Army protocol.

He gave the order for the men to load up and watched as they entered the transport aircraft squad by squad. Once everyone was on board, he and the 1^st Sgt made one last check before approaching the lead aircraft.

"After you, 1^st Sgt," Mike said. The big man nodded his head and headed inside. Mike made sure that no matter what, he was the first man on the field and the last one off. This was no exception. Looking one final time, he entered the plane and took his place on one of the canvas seats.

Mike tried to sleep on the long voyage home, but images of his Lynette with General Dickwad kept entering his mind.

The plane landed at Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling about 4:30 in the morning. After seeing to his men, Mike made his way to their home in Officer's Country. The house was dark and looked much as he had left it six months earlier. As far as he could tell, it didn't appear to have been used at all since he left.

He put his gear away, showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt, observing that most, if not all, of Lynette's clothing and accessories were gone. Looking through the mail, he noticed that while the bills had been paid, not much else had been done. He also noticed that letters he had sent to his wife remained on the table, unopened.

The food in the refrigerator was old and past its due date. Some had green fuzzy stuff growing on it. He threw the garbage out and cleaned the fridge up so it wouldn't smell up the whole house.

He checked his bank account to make sure things were okay there, and from what he could tell, things were normal. Lynette usually handled the bills, so he really didn't know what was "normal" or not. Fortunately, the bills were paid through automatic drafts and both his and Lynette's pay were directly deposited in the account.

It was just after 8:30 when he called Lynette's office, hoping to get some answers.

"I'm sorry, Capt. Weber," the female voice said on the other end. "Mrs. Weber and General Masters are both on leave and won't be back until sometime toward the end of the month."

"On leave?" Mike asked. "Are you sure about that? My wife said she and the general were on some kind of fact-finding mission to Europe."

"Uh, no, there's no fact-finding mission I'm aware of. Both of them took leave about the same time and said they would be out of the area," the woman said.

"How long ago was this leave planned?" Mike asked.

"Let me see," the woman said. "It looks like they put in for it two months ago. Says here the general and your wife wanted to plan a surprise for your return from Africa for your good work over there."

"They did, huh?" Mike asked sarcastically. "Well, they sure did surprise me. Did they leave any contact information?"

"Both used your wife's personal cell phone number," the woman said. Terrific, Mike thought. Screw it, he said to himself.

"I see," he told the woman. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome, sir," she said. "And welcome home." Mike thanked the woman and hung up the phone.

He sat down and thought about his options. Divorce seemed all but inevitable at this point. Of course, that could screw up his career but his life was already a shambles. If he made things hard on Lynette, the general and his friends on Capitol Hill could really screw him over. He decided to call his dad.

"Hey Mike," his father said, picking up the phone on the first ring. "Wanna go video? I haven't seen you in so long." Mike smiled.

"Sure, Dad, hang on," he said, turning on the giant flat-screen and pressing a button on his phone. His father's smiling face filled the television.

"There you are," the older man said. "Looks like you got some sun."

"Yeah, Africa was fun," Mike said.

"You getting ready to head out here? Everyone is anxiously waiting to see you guys," Chris said.

"I'll be leaving today or tomorrow," Mike said.

"What's the matter, son? You said 'I.' Where's that lovely wife of yours?" Chris asked. The old man was always able to read him like a book.

"I don't know where she is, Dad," Mike said. "She told me she was on a fact-finding mission with General Masters in Europe but her phone was last tracked east of the Bahamas. Her office tells me she and the general are on leave until about the end of the month but they don't know where she or her boss are. I'll be leaving today or tomorrow by myself." Chris looked sad as Mike told him the news.

"I take it General Masters is in your chain of command," Chris said. Mike nodded. "And he's her boss?" Mike nodded yes again. "That doesn't sound good, son. What are you planning to do?" he asked.

"I don't know, Dad. I need information but I don't know where to look or what to do," Mike said.

"Alright, son," Chris said. "Don't worry. I know some people who can help, so I'll talk to them. You get some rest and just come on out. We'll talk about this further when you get here, alright?"

"Okay, Dad, thanks," Mike said. "Give everyone my love and tell them I said hello."

"I will, son," Chris said. "Drive safe and we'll see you in a day or so." They ended the call and Mike began gathering his gear for the trip to Springfield. After packing, he inspected his car to make sure it would make the trip, locked up the house and headed out. It was still early in the day, about 10:30, and he saw no need to spend another night in the place.

Filling the car with gas, he filled his thermos with coffee, bought a pack of small flavored cigars -- something his father got him hooked on -- and headed west. He drove straight through, making it to St. Louis in 12 hours, stopping only to gas up, eat and use the restroom. He still had about a three or four hour drive ahead of him, but decided to grab a motel room and leave early, so as to be fairly fresh when he got there.

He left early the next morning after grabbing a quick breakfast and pulled into his parent's gated driveway four hours later. Pulling up, he saw his mother and sister waiting for him at the door.

At 52, going on 53, his mother still looked quite ravishing in her casual shorts and t-shirt, showing off her shapely, well-toned dancer's legs. She still had a great figure, even after giving birth to three children, and could easily pass for someone ten years younger. No wonder Dad always seemed happy, he thought to himself. His much younger sister, Marilyn, also wearing short casual shorts and a t-shirt, looked like a teenage carbon copy of her mother. They both raced out to greet him as he got out of his car.