The Bunker Ch. 09 - Homecoming

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready."

"Here? Now?"

"I suppose I could wait until you pull to the front of the driveway and change in front of Garfield. Think he'd see me as I'm changing, or would the camo have an extended effect?"

Sarah's lips compressed tightly. "Don't be an ass, Kevin. Just ... be careful." She tried but failed to suppress the anguish in her voice. If she hadn't been using cruise control she probably would have slowed as she worried for the immediate future. And the long term one as well.

"I will, love. Trust me. I know more about this than that arena shit." The mood in the van didn't lift much with that statement, but it didn't feel on the edge of snapping. I stripped my lower half to my boxers and pulled on the socks and pants. The socks were a pain to put on in the confines of the shotgun seat, the pants less so. I did get a catcall from Andrea when pulling the pants past my knees required a maneuver roughly equivalent to humping the air. I almost gave her an amused scowl, but her comment seemed to lighten the mood slightly. Ellie and Kiki chuckled anyway. Jenn and Sarah were studiously quiet.

Ok, so I was only slightly fudging here. I was a pretty good shot in the Army. I'd served my first year on a COLT team knowing me and two or three other guys were all the defense available, so I took running and marksmanship seriously. Since getting out, any year I'd hunted (which wasn't every year) I took the first deer I chose with a single headshot. Pissed off people on occasion when I blew the back off a head they thought should get mounted, but I saw no use for that. And I knew hitting the deer at the base of the skull meant it was dead before the rifle crack got there, and well before the deer hit the ground. Collecting my own meat directly was gratifying. Mounting a cheesy-ass trophy on my wall was not.

I reviewed every lesson on individual movement from my army days. Every field problem. Every day of hunting, every time I made an inadvertent sound. All too soon, Sarah pulled off the blacktop onto the gravel road. It had an 's' curve just as it came off the state highway, so I had Sarah pull to the middle of it. This would keep our caravan out of view of anyone passing by on the highway, or anyone further down the road. All three cars pulled into the wide grassy shoulder. Checking my watch, Sarah had cut the sixty minutes down to fifty.

I hopped out after punching the rear gate open button. I swiftly started pulling luggage out of the rear space until I exposed the false floor over the compartment the rear seats folded into. Lifting that revealed my contingency gear. Two M16's, a scoped 7mm hunting rifle, and a.22LR pistol with a suppressor. I handed the M16's to Connie and Melissa. They scored well in the BRM training. I also handed over a tacvest and five magazines each -- one for the rifle, and four in the storage pockets of the vests.

For myself, I stuffed two five round magazines of 7mm ammo in my left cargo pocket, then slapped the third into the rifle and worked the bolt to chamber a round. I safed the rifle before dropping two magazines of subsonic.22LR in my right cargo pocket, and a third slammed home in the pistol. I racked the slide and set the safety. With a few words of encouragement and support, and some guidance on how to deploy themselves, I left the safety of my family to two of my youngest partners and slipped into the trees across the road. That would place me on the same side of the road as the house and eliminate the chance of the opposition catching me crossing in the open. Once in the trees, I pulled up the veil.

In my absence, Sarah was communicating with Manny by text. Before I left, he reported the standoff had not changed. I kept my phone with me, in my chest pocket, set to silent and no vibration. I would need to coordinate with Manny once I was in position, but I couldn't afford any exposure. It was midafternoon, so the screen light wouldn't give me away if I was careful.

I slipped carefully and silently from tree to tree. While time was running short, rushing would only make noise. Garfield was smart enough to already have his own sniper in the spot I was heading for. His attention would be on our compound, buying me some extra measure of stealth, but not enough to get sloppy. I held position behind each tree, scanning ahead and to each side before moving to the next position.

It took me forty-five minutes to reach a position close enough to see the edge of the large grove at the north boundary of my property. I scanned with even greater care now. It took me five minutes to spot a human form in a tree a hundred and fifty yards ahead of me, and just slightly to my right. That was still beyond the pistol's range. I'd need to advance another hundred yards while maneuvering for a clear shot. All without being detected. The sniper had barely moved, only just enough to reveal himself as a living human. He certainly hadn't shown any concern for the space behind him. Late summer meant there were no fallen leaves, very few twigs, and the grass was still reasonably supple. Just pay the fuck attention to what you're doing .

My pulse would be pounding if I wasn't deliberately trying to calm myself. A loud heartbeat in my ears would be detrimental to hearing the sounds of a possible threat. Taking the active measure, my heart was only half-pounding.

My family is in danger. I have taken life before. I know how to use this rifle. I've regularly hit targets out to sixty yards with the silenced pistol. I know how to move silently. One step at a time. Scan your surroundings. Check the ground. Check the target. Check your surroundings .

As I advanced, my constant scanning assured me the sniper had no security set. Garfield and his people were so sure they were the smartest and baddest, they didn't plan for a surprise. Which is why I kept scanning for another person in the vicinity. Surprise in combat is never good. Unless you're doing the surprising.

I settled into a position forty yards from the sniper, at his four o'clock. It was just him and me. From here, I could easily see Garfield's men arrayed around the house. They were still roughly in the positions Cynthia and Eduardo relayed when I was enroute.

With a tree between me and the sniper, I pulled out my phone and texted Manny.

I have Garfield's sniper insight. Tell Garfield he has fifteen minutes to clear out or you will defend the property and people under your care.

A minute later, he replied.

-- He says we have ten minutes to start walking out. Promises safe passage, just wants the house.

Wait for my signal. You'll know it when you see it.

-- rgr

Ten minutes would be pushing it to take down the sniper, get in the perch, and get prepped to snipe Garfield and his assault team. I slung the rifle crossbody, behind my back, muzzle down. Drawing the pistol and taking one last careful scan, I took three silent steps to get a clear line to the sniper's side. It was too far to try for a head shot, but several.22LR rounds to the chest cavity will ruin anyone's day. Especially since the low velocity rounds I have loaded will not travel in a straight line once inside the body.

In a steady, two-handed stance, I fired four rounds in succession into the sniper's upper right side, entering about the lower portion of the rib cage. The sniper rolled off the branch and fell to the ground. I rushed in to verify my target was down. To my surprise, the sniper was still alive, rasping, coughing blood, and reaching for a walkie talkie. And not a he. Tawny hair sprawled out of the balaclava and the form covered by the hunting camo was distinctly feminine. I brought the pistol muzzle to her temple and fired one round. The hair and the glaring eyes identified Garfield's sister. One snake down.

I safed the pistol, removed the silencer, and stuffed both in a cargo pocket. Six minutes to deadline. Time to climb.

Two minutes later, I'd settled into a sturdy position and unslung my rifle. I steadied myself with several slow, deep breaths. As my pulse slowed, I sighted in on Jefferson Garfield. He was giving orders for some of his men to begin maneuvering around the house. Too late, fucker. I sighted the base of his skull, held my breath on the exhale, and fired.

As Garfield dropped, I worked the bolt and watched to see who would be first to give orders. With less time to sight in, I fired one round through the man's heart. Just as I did, shooters from the house opened up and Garfield's men scattered. I held my fire and watched as three more took rounds, but all escaped. I texted a ceasefire message to Manny and climbed down. Then I texted Sarah, letting her know the situation was safe, but not to leave yet. We needed to clear the bodies before bringing the kids in.

That's when I heard sirens. Now the sheriff was available to respond.

Do NOT fire unless fired upon!

-- I generally consider shooting at cops really bad ju-ju mano.

Well, at least he was keeping loose. I slung the rifle and started walking at a quick pace towards the house. Three cars pulled to the middle of the driveway and took blocking positions. The deputies inside got out. Then the sheriff arrived. He and his deputies examined the two bodies, then paused at a few other spots. These were probably blood spots from the three that got hit as they escaped. The sheriff returned to his car and pulled a bullhorn out.

"Ansen, get your murdering ass out here. You're under arrest. You resist and you won't make it to jail."

The deputies arrayed themselves loosely around the Sheriff, none more than fifteen yards away. The one nearest me, on their left flank, finally looked my direction when I was thirty yards out. He cried out, turning all four heads at me. The Sheriff's hand went for his weapon.

"You draw that firearm and the rifles in the house will open up on you."

The Sheriff paused his hand and sneered. "You'd shoot an officer of the law in the course of his duties?"

"My people will shoot to defend my life from an unjust thug. Your patron is dead. His little yappy dog followers will scurry to the dark places." I looked each deputy in the eye before returning to the sheriff. He was seething but silent. "You have no support. Hell, you may not even be sheriff for much longer. I'd be careful then if I were you. You've abused your office and this county enough that I wouldn't be surprised if somebody took it upon themselves to rid this county of your existence within a month of you losing any official status."

I could see all three deputies shifting uncomfortably. One lightly grasped the sheriff's upper arm. The one that still hovered near his sidearm. They huddled briefly, then the sheriff and two deputies each got in their car and left. The last one, the senior deputy, walked up to me, his hand clearly away from his weapon.

"You know this ain't over yet, right? Garfield's sister is just as ruthless as he is. She'll just rally the forces and come back harder."

"That would be difficult considering she's lying at the top of that rise with four rounds of twenty-two long rifle in her chest and one through her temple."

The deputy's eyes bugged, then rolled. "Well, that may get a collapse of the group, but it'll just make the Sheriff that much madder at you."

"Why the fuck is he all hot about me and my family?"

"Well, first you got selected in the lottery. Then you snaked this house from Garfield, his backer. Then you killed Garfield. And last, you killed the woman the Sheriff's been hot after for two years."

I looked skyward for a moment.

"She toyed with him, gave him a roll in the hay once in a while. One time she played girlfriend for a whole month. He is not going to take this well."

"Without Garfield, this county won't put up with him long. Don't be in the blast zone when that happens, officer."

The deputy tipped his hat, got in his vehicle, and left.

I waved to the house. Three people came out at a run. We rendezvoused over Garfield's body. I directed one up towards the sniper's body and they hustled up there with the sheet they had carried out of the house. The remaining two covered Garfield and the other man I'd shot. I texted Sarah it was safe to bring everyone in. The bodies were well off the gravel and far enough up the drive that letting the kids out at the house would keep them away from the oddly placed sheets in the yard.

******

Two days later, I sat on the couch with a clipboard in my hand and Sarah's feet in my lap. She was typing away on her laptop. I worked on lists. Lists of improvements yet to be started or completed. A list of topics for the family meeting I needed to call. A list of topics for a separate meeting with Sarah, Destiny, and Melanie. Another list of items that we needed to haul from here to the bunker. There were restrictions on what items were allowed, and how much, of course.

Then there was the list of supplies to box up at the school to get shipped to the bunker. Unless we wound up hauling that stuff. Supposedly, we would get logistical support on the education supplies. Oh, and I need to put in a request for teaching supplies to be purchased (or acquired) by the BA to be shipped directly to the bunker.

Sarah was probably working out plans for the family or house. Simpson College was officially closed. Instructors still had time to recover stuff from offices or classrooms, but there would be no more classes. With no word from the bunker folks about any business related classes, Sarah was officially unemployed. Her organizational skills were devoted solely to the family now.

That was not enough to keep her mind fully occupied though. She was spending a fair amount of time on 'idle' type games. The busy work's only purpose was to keep her mind off what she didn't want to think about. Not unemployment. Our family was set, and she could find other pursuits. No, her major purpose at the moment was to keep a close eye on me. Since our return, Sarah had barely left my side except to go to the bathroom. And then one of the others hovered close by while she was gone.

Yes, she went in with me when I had to go. I protested at first, but that desperate puppy dog look shot the hell out of any objection I came up with. The fact that I had trouble taking care of business with an audience did not defray her. Nor did the inevitable odor when I did get the job done. Trust me, that was true love there. The Ansen family intestinal tract was not something to be near an hour after any meal.

She'd also demonstrated beyond a doubt she was not having difficulty adjusting to sharing me. I slept last night with Sarah tucked up on my left and Jessica tucked into my right. Ellie slept between my legs, her head on my abdomen. That sweet little girl was all about proving her devotion to me in particular and the family as a whole. I slept late that morning, meaning Sarah woke only ten minutes after me. Jessica was already awake, but remained snuggled in close. Ellie stirred and woke just as I did.

I love the feel of her body against me. Her short frame nestled easily against me in any configuration she attempted. A more critical, possibly abusive, man might call her chubby, but that would be unfair. While not slender, she carried no excess fat. She was not taut like a gym bunny. Her skin was soft and yielding. Her belly had the merest jiggle as I drove into her. Though my eyes were more often drawn to the motion of her large, supple breasts in such times.

That cute little elf of a girl immediately began kissing and licking down my stomach and quickly focused her efforts on my cock. Jessica slid down to whisper into Ellie's ear. Given the changes in Ellie's efforts, Jessica was giving her tips.

Sarah stirred and woke. We kissed. Then she realized what was happening below. With a wicked grin, she caressed my chest with her hand as she brought her lips to mine again, this time for a long, slow makeout. As Ellie hit the right spots and brought me closer to climax, I groaned into my kiss with Sarah. I could feel her lips spread into a smile. She rubbed her breasts against my side. I felt lips and a tongue press against my other ear. Whoever it was kissed softly and ran her tongue against the outer edge of my ear. Then she nibbled my earlobe. With three women hitting my pleasure spots, I was soaring to the height of pleasure.

"Good morning, master." Destiny purred into my ear. Well, now I knew who it was. "Enjoying the spoils of your victory?" Her hand joined Sarah's on my torso, stroking softly. With a giggle she added, "It's good to be the king, right?"

"That character died within a few minutes of uttering that statement."

"Give Ellie another minute and you'll reach le petit mort ."

She wasn't wrong. I erupted in Ellie's mouth shortly thereafter. She swallowed every drop. Jessica's voice had gotten a touch louder just before I popped, giving Ellie advice to help her manage what she'd been trying for since she joined us.

But that was this morning. A very good morning. To Gabby and Jessica's chagrin, I helped Ellie when she insisted on making breakfast this morning. They only relented when I pointed out I would not do any actual work, just guide Ellie. To all our relief, Andrea and Destiny volunteered to help. Not that Ellie was a bad cook, but one person putting together breakfast for thirteen adults, two young teens, and four kids while being taught a recipe could turn into a late brunch easily.

Destiny got some sausage links started and scrambled about two dozen eggs, setting them aside to cook near the end. Then she started chopping up fruit for a fruit salad. Andrea set the table and made toast while helping Destiny keep an eye on the sausage.

Ellie pulled out the bowl of leftover mashed potatoes. Jessica had deliberately made much more than needed last night because I had mentioned how I liked turning leftover mashed potatoes into pancakes for, well, any meal the next day or week. Now I guided Ellie as she broke up the mashed potatoes with a fork before adding baking soda and flour. Then she stirred.

"Wow, this is kind tough."

"Yeah, and women back before kitchen machines were invented stirred up all kinds of batters every day. One of the reasons folks did not mess with momma. That arm was strong from cooking."

Ellie giggled.

"Ok, that's good. Now we add the eggs, milk, salt and pepper, and chopped chives."

"And stir again?" she asked, with a slight plaintive tone.

"This time, it will be wet enough to use the hand mixer." I directed her to the mixer and the beater attachments.

Well, breakfast was satisfying for all, Ellie felt accomplished, and all three ladies happily received compliments for their efforts. Which gets us back to me sitting on the couch with a contented belly and Sarah's feet in my lap. And an ungodly number of lists to make. With the news playing as background.

"In other news, the Bunker Authority Governing Council is taking up a new proposal to establish standards of behavior for all men. The proposal codifies certain protections for women in tier four and to a lesser extent, those in tier five.

The bulk of the proposal places specific expectations on the behavior of tier three men with respect to the tier six women in their households. The proposal does not add protections for the tier six women. Instead, it establishes that tier three men that fail to, and I quote 'make full use of any and all tier six women in their household' may be denied entry to the bunker. Any woman attached to said man would be brought into the bunker and assigned to another man. This includes the wives and daughters of such men."

"Well, I imagine the discussion in tonight's panel will get quite interesting." The well coifed man at the desk smirked.