Surviving When The Lights Went Out

-

She went quiet and he pushed her back into the house and our bedroom, slamming the door and locking it.

"That's better," he told her, "now strip off and let's make love."

"Make LOVE?!" she snarled back at him, "since when has threatening to shoot Jim unless I let you fuck me been an act of Love?"

"Just... just get your fucking kit off..." he stammered and Jack could see that her prospective lover was beginning to have an issue with this and whatever his brain was telling him to do, his sub-conscious was starting to think about this as rape.

"Please..." said Jack, "Mac, please... don't rape me," tears started to flow, "you'll hate yourself... please..." she thought about claiming she was a virgin but figured that might make him worse.

She sat on the bed with her head in her hands and wept, at least that was the noise she made, hoping if he saw how distraught it was making her it would put him off, "I'm getting married in June," she said, "please... don't..." she mouthed the last two words "rape me."

He stared at the floor,

"Deana, it doesn't have to be like this, just..." he raised his arms out to his side, "let's make love instead... please! That way it won't be bad and you'll be OK." He looked across to her, "I mean," he folded his arms, his gun in the midst, her expression let him know she really didn't think that would be a much better option, so he started a different angle to convince her, "you're not wearing a ring!" he said as if its absence meant raping her wouldn't be so bad after all.

"It's in Edinburgh being re-sized, it was his Grandmother's," she clutched her hand to show how much she missed it, "diamonds and garnet, so beautiful!" she sighed.

Mac looked very pissed off about this and folded his arms again,

"When did you last see your boyfriend; is he even alive? Is he? Is he though?" he snapped, "he hasn't driven down from Scotland to find you has he? If you were my fiancé I wouldn't have let you out of my sight, beautiful girl like you. Does he really love you Deana? How do you know he ain't shagging some pretty Scotch girl right now -- answer me that aah?"

His attempts at reasonableness made her worry. She was giving him all of her emotions to put him off but he was starting to convince himself that this was OK and she knew that one way or another she was going to get raped this cold afternoon. She did nothing.

"Take your clothes off," he said to her, "might help you get in the mood," he winked lasciviously at her as if it might help, but she just shuddered and pulled her hoodie tighter across her shoulders and shook her head. As if he'd only just remembered it, he pointed his machine gun out of the window, "I'll fucking shoot your brother Deana," he said, his eyebrows raised in warning.

"P... please Mac... don't rape me..." she hissed to him.

"If you'd been reasonable and let me sleep with you it wouldn't have come to this!" He shouted at her use of the word 'rape'.

"Since when has rape ever been reasonable?!" she hissed at him.

"STOP... CALLING IT... FUCKING RAPE!" he squeezed his eyes closed against the concept, "it's... just... you know... sex..."

"I've no contraception..."

"That... don't matter..." he said looking at his feet temporarily.

"You really don't give a fuck about me do you?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped as if it was obvious.

"So you rape me, I get pregnant, I report you to the police when all this is over and have your DNA to prove it."

He went very quiet again.

"This might... might never be over!" he added brightly as if it would cheer up his prospective victim, "the government..." he blustered, "This government can't..." he struggled for a simile, "they couldn't organise... fuckin' shit..." Which was the best he could do.

"So you are actually going to fucking murder us in the end aren't you? You're going to break the law with impunity, steal, rape, murder then run away -- the police will catch you Mac, you do know that?"

"What?" he said with a wobbly grin, "you..." he stuttered, "you... don't fuckin' get it do yah, there's fuckin' THOUSANDS of dead people out there!"

She saw that she might just have gotten to him that time.

"Please Mac," she said, "Please... how about... how about I give you a hand job, I'll pull you off..."

She could see this was close to appealing to him.

"I can I come on your tits?"

"Anywhere, just don't..." she shuddered.

"Deal!" he shouted, "get 'em off then Deana!"

His enthusiasm at what he saw as her willingness made her want to vomit but she managed to control her gag reflex as she pulled off her hoodie and T-shirt, exposing her perfect braless tits.

His mouth fell open and she watched in disgust as he licked his lips and moved his 5.56mm bargaining chip from hand to hand as he decided which he was going to use to maul them.

He stepped right up close and gasped his foul breath into her face, he raised a hand to her,

"Wassup? Don't like the smell of an honest working man?"

She wanted to challenge his use of the word 'honest' but didn't want to be punched before he raped her.

"Sorry..." she said waiting for the blow to fall, but it didn't. She might just get away with this -- for the time being at least.

His ragged breath was coming in gasps now as he stared down at the half naked beauty before him, he hard nipples looking just like they did on the internet.

"Take my cock out," he said grandly pushing his groin forward, dropping the barrel of the gun to her head when he saw her subtle change of look, "hurt me and I blow your fucking brains out! I'm warning ya!"

He undid the zip himself and left the rest to her.

She reached into his stinking underpants and pulled out his hardening penis, the stink of his unwashed manhood almost worst than his body odour and made her gag.

She held her breath,

"Mac," she gasped, "let me get a tissue, just clean it up..."

Without waiting for permission she reached for the toilet roll on her bedside table, the one I'd brought into the room when I'd had a bit of a cold, dipping one in a water glass and wiping at the smegma clinging under and around his engorging helmet.

"Ooh-oooh," he gasped, his knees trembling at her attention, "Oh fuck yeah Deana! Knew you'd enjoy it eventually!"

She wanted to point out that she wasn't but the flash hider on the gun barrel had pushed against her ear too many times.

"Strip off your jeans," he panted, reaching down and grabbing her right breast.

"W...what?" she hissed, "you said..."

"YOU FUCKING HEARD!" he shouted pushing the gun barrel to her temple, "FUCKING... JEANS!"

He stepped back from the edge of the bed and she stood undoing the belt, the button and the zip letting them fall to the floor under their own weight and stepping out of the two denim rings on the floor.

"Panties..." he mumbled looking at the almost naked girl before him, her curvy perfection hidden under my gear since he'd arrived.

"Mac, PLEASE!" she gasped.

"F... Fucking PANTIES -- NOOOOOW!" he roared waggling the machine gun again as she seemed to be ignoring its presence.

She pushed them off of her hips and they fell to her bare feet so she stood perfectly and beautifully naked before him.

"Now then Deana," he said with a leer, "Just WHAT are we going to do with you?"

He pushed her back on the bed, his insane eyes sparkling at the various options he had open to him and his mind ran through them all in a matter of seconds. His horrible smile twisted his grubby unshaven face as he considered all of things he'd masturbated over through the years; fuck now, blow-job tonight, anal tomorrow, he licked his lips again, pushed down his trousers and fell on top of her giggling like a nine year old, the barrel of his gun at her temple again.

I heard her angry scream.

-

I threw myself at one of the barn doors and nothing happened, far to strong and well built.

I tried to channel my Dad in my impotent fury, what the fuck would he have done in this situation?

Well he probably wouldn't have gotten into it in the first place for a start, 'come on Dad...' I breathed trying to control something, thinking back to our eight months of talking about survival, of his memories. I needed his memory to tell me what to do and stepped across to where all of his pictures were on the wall, memories of better days with my Dad smiling out of them, one large one of him and me as a young boy, both holding handguns like James Bond.

I heard that raping bastard almost crow at something then laugh loudly.

In pure rage I thumped the wall with my fist. The section of it with the picture of Dad and I fell out and there was a small metal safe with a four figure combination lock on it.

Four figures. I could hear Dad's voice, 'Oh come on mate, you KNOW what they'll be'.

I dialled in the last four figures of my father's army number, so easy to remember -- 1098, the army form that kit was issued under.

I now knew what my Dad had done in the barn on those quiet days, on the days I went to London.

The combination worked and the little gunmetal grey door swung open and there were bundles of cash, some building society books and other paperwork that would turn out to be bearer bonds; and there it was, thank you Daddy.

There was a dark shape right at the back, the dark shape of a pistol and I reached in hoping it wasn't just the leather holster. My fingers closed over the cold leather and I lifted. It had the most splendid weight to it, and was probably even loaded.

It was Dad's all time favourite, a Sig Sauer P226. I'd fired one several times on ranges he'd taken me to.

I lifted it out of the holster and released the magazine with the small button. It slid out silently and the weight told me it was full, tucked behind the holster was another two magazines in a matching carrier.

I tucked them into my jeans pocket and slipped the first back into the gun, pulling the top slide back and seeing the 9mm shell engage briefly.

OK, I could fight this cunt now but I still had no way out so I had to get him in.

After a few minutes I heard the croft doors opening and closing, I desperately hoped Jack was OK. Time to piss him off I thought.

"Open this door you cunt, let me see my sister!"

"You can see 'er when I say so Jim," he said, "All the time you and Deana are both good, you'll both stay alive," he roared with a self-congratulatory tone that suggested he'd run a three minute mile, scaled Everest, solved the Israel/Palestine crisis and had found a cure for the common cold on his walk home, "now you're gonna be staying in there for your own safety Jim, me and Deana see, we are going to be... together, the love of a real soldier Jim, not some posh kilt wearing cunt she ain't seen in month!"

"SOLDIER?! You're no fucking soldier, you fucking Walt," it was time to use all of the 'I know you were never Para or SAS' shit on him for real now, "You were never in the regiment you fucking WALT!" I shouted, "I doubt you were ever in the army were you? You're a fucking nobody, a fucking wannabe that read a few fucking books, bought the right uniform from the internet and strutted about you bedroom at your Mum's house cocking off about how big and fucking brave you were. I bet you told all the girls on Tinder you were a Para and SAS didn't you, fucking didn't you! YOU FUCKING NOBODY!!"

"Shut... shut the fuck up Jimmy, you don't know shit!"

"I know more than you dickhead," I shouted, "I know the regiment has squadrons not companies -- oh and by the way WALT, you said you were in C company? 22 doesn't have a 'C' company or a squadron, unless you're the only twat in it. Paratrooper my arse..." I laughed loudly, knowing that would infuriate him, "doubt you were clever or fit enough to join, the fucking cadets would've thrown you out and that's just because of your STINK..."

"JIMMY!" he shouted trying to control his anger, "just shut the fuck..."

"Come on Walt, put your gun down and take me down with one hand; or are you too scared -- YOU... STINKING... FUCKING... WALT!"

That did it and I could hear the sound of him fumbling open the hasp and grumbling to himself, then the door started to move a little bit.

I dropped to one knee away from the entrance where he'd expect me to be, thumbing off the safety catch.

"Whether I was fucking SAS or not JIMMY, I sure as hell fucked your sister, and you know what, that's JUST the way it's gonna stay!"

"Oh blah fuckin' blah Mac, you've gotta sleep some time you prick, and once you lose that gun you're fucking 'NO-ONE!" I chimed.

"I'm..." he snarled angrily and fumbled with the door, "I'm the fuckin' Boss... of you and Deana! ME! I've still got the gun so I'm the fuckin' Boss -- geddit? BOY..."

As he flung the door open on the exclaimed and triumphant 'boy' with a big grin on his satisfied face as I aimed at his chest, centre body mass and squeezed off two rounds, the classic double-tap I'd learned on those range days.

Trooper John 'Mac' Maguire of C Company, 22nd Special Air Service (kinda) howled in pain as he flew back out of the barn door and into the yard, landing on his back with his dropped rifle laying on the floor where it had landed as he was thrown.

"JIMMY!" I could hear Jack's scream and she came flying out of the house, just in her T-shirt, her eyes red but flaming!

"It's OK baby," I said stepping out of the barn, "Seems my Dad left me a little gift but forgot to tell me about it."

She ran across and hugged me, kissing my face if my life depended on it.

Mac lay on the floor looking shocked and stunned, his hand holding where my bullets had hit him. His mouth flapped a few times and he looked at me with a hurt, disbelieving 'what did you do that for?' stare in his eyes.

Jack bent down and picked up the rifle holding it up by the pistol grip as the hero had done these last three days.

"Sooooooo," she said evilly but still with a tremble to her voice, "To coin the phrase you just used to me, just whaaaaaat are we going to do with you?"

"Deana... Jim... please, I..."

She stomped square on his unprotected groin and he all but folded up.

My name is Jack!" she shouted at him, "Jim is my fucking boyfriend not my brother you CUNT!" she shouted as she stomped his balls one more time, "that's how I was so confident my boyfriend was still alive, he kissed me goodnight!"

"No please," he watched in terror as she stepped round him, "JIM PLEASE! Get this psycho bitch off me, not my shoulder... Aaaarrghh!" he screamed in pain as she kicked that wound this time.

"You raped her mate, so I kind of think it's all rather down to you," I shouted back at him.

"I never raped you Dea..."

"Jack!" she screamed, "my name is fucking Jack!"

"Jack then," he shook his head, "we made... we just had sex, I wasn't rough with you was I? I was quite quick!"

"And the fact I was crying and begging you not to, pleading with you as you lay your stinking body on top of me, you missed that bit did you?" she screamed back down at him, her tears running down her face in sheer hatred, "too busy pushing your gun barrel into the side of my face while you RAPED ME!".

"But... it was just a shag, that's all!"

She had moved round to me now.

"It was fucking rape YOU CUNT!" she screamed stamping her foot hard down onto his damaged shoulder and causing him to scream now.

"OK," I snarled pulling her back, "some fucking answers dickhead," I wanted a full apology not only for the shit he'd put Jack and I through for the last three days but also to the memory of my Dad, the Sass-man he'd read and fantasised about.

"Answers?" he gasped out squeezing his wounded shoulder.

"You've never been in the army in your life have you..." I lashed out at his uninjured shin, "HAVE YOU!"

"No..." he managed to pant out, "I was in the reserve, Royal Anglians..."

"Never in the Regiment though."

"What regiment?"

I rolled my eyes,

"THE Regiment, your first mistake MAC was that men from the Special Air Service never ever tell people they are in the Special Air Service, it's never 'The S A S', God forbid it's ever 'The Sass'. It's just 'The Regiment', as soon as you called it everything but, I knew you were a phoney, a fucking Walt..." I sneered.

OK, I'd never pulled on a uniform but fuck sake, I had more right to this righteous indignation than most.

"But..."

"How did you find us?" snapped Jack pulling her T-shirt down but keeping the gun pointed at him.

"I... I heard gun shots," he said. I looked at Jack, her shotgun expertise the morning before his visit and the two woodpigeon she'd dropped had brought him to us. "I've been hanging around here for days... run out of food... lost... I'd read your Dad's books see, both of them." He smiled at the memories, "knew that he lived up here on the borders, I just wanted to be... where he'd been, knew I'd be safe." He grimaced at some sudden pain from his shoulder, "My car, well it's one I borrowed from a neighbour actually... run out of diesel... about thirty Miles back... walked here through the woods."

That explained how he hadn't tripped my tin can alarms out front at first.

"Does the neighbour know you borrowed it?" said Jack, "Or did you tell him that you were the law and the government said you could take it?"

"I'd run out of food! Mum... my family had run out too, our... my house was freezing?.. I just wanted to survive!" he shouted, "to get here and... and live... like Major Hart!"

"So you thought you'd come to our home and take our stuff."

"No! I swear!" he gasped out, "I'd looked it up months ago, when I first read the book like, I knew that he'd lived in a croft right out in this part of country and seeing as he'd died I thought if I could only get here, I could be like him, live off the land and all that, check in my bergen," he said, "I brought both books."

"OK, you Google-stalked our house. If you were so fucking innocent, when you saw us and saw that we were living here why didn't you just turn round and go to another place you'd read about in a book, I hear The Hundred Acre Wood and Poo Corner are lovely this time of year," Jack sneered at him.

"I'm sorry!" he all but shouted back, "I'm sorry OK?"

"Not convinced," I said. I flicked the safety catch the P226 having all but forgotten about it, I was pretty sure this arsehole was down until I picked him up again.

"You have to believe me Jim!"

"Why? You turn up out of fucking nowhere and terrorise me and Jack because you've got a machine gun and we haven't? No I think if I hadn't have been here you would have raped Jack on the first night."

"I didn't know you she was your girlfriend!" he said with some indignation, if that made his raping her my fault.

"The problem isn't that you raped my girlfriend you fucking idiot, the problem is you raped a girl, end of story."

"But..." He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if he was disappointed that we just didn't get it. I flicked the safety catch off again.

Jack looked down at him,

"As soon as I found you in our house and had spoken to you and listened to you talking bullshit and trying to impress me about what a big brave soldier boy you where I knew that James was at risk. If I told you he was my boyfriend you would have shot him out of turn, taken him off into the woods and done for him. Him being my brother was a lot safer, for him at least."

"If I'd known you were a couple..." he insisted.

"Oh!" said Jack in mock surprise, "Then you WOULDN'T have threatened to shoot my Jimmy unless I had sex with you? Nah," she sneered, "I listened to you justifying raping me back there. You'd have shot my boyfriend, carried on raping me and carrying your machine gun around with you like some green plastic penis extension, right up until the lights went back on then you would have shot me and just wandered off back to whichever fucking hole you crawled out of, wouldn't you."