Dan and the Bottle Ch. 20

Jerry, his brother, and three cousins were the last of their family to still use the old homestead, although only Jerry still lived inside the underground complex. The others had opted for building several large log homes on the surface, though they still lived in close contact with the land and with each other.

At Juniper base, they were still bringing planes up from the 'basement', some of the biggest cargo planes coming up in pieces. Even with a team of thirty or forty mechanics, it would take weeks or months to rebuild just one of the monster machines.

Of course, the biggest of the cargo planes lent themselves to a few humorous moments, too.... at one point, one of them was rolled out on a runway for final ground testing; an F18 pilot nervously called the tower from the adjacent runway, asking about the intentions of the much larger plane.

Before the tower could respond, the cargo lifter's nose folded straight up, the clamshell doors had opened outward, the ramp had folded out like an enormous tongue, and an ominous bass voice had announced over the radio, "I'M GOING TO EAT YOU!"

Terry Wilson was still getting a laugh out of that one a month later.

Bob Sharpe sat back in the small apartment he and Jenny shared. Jenny had gotten certified as a pilot just two months ago, and was enjoying her new status immensely. Her and her boyfriend liked nothing better than going flying together, taking new recruits up in the training planes. They taught unconventional tactics; what two or more pilots could do, working together as a team.

Jenny came in from the kitchen, a drink in either hand. "A truckload of juice came down today, from the Cave.... orange, strawberry, and banana juice was in there, so I grabbed a few gallons. A new batch of 'shine, too, been aging in the barrel for the past ten years."

It made a very smooth drink.

"Willis is making good progress... he had control of the plane almost the entire time we were up today."

He nodded. "Same goes for Harris. If her landings were a bit better, I'd be tempted to let her solo."

"Still pretty bad, huh?"

He nodded. "She's still coming in with the nose too high. It would be fine with a tail-dragger, but that isn't what she's flying. It's like she's still flying a Mustang."

"You could restrict her to the Mustangs and Thunderbolts."

"I could, but that would be a waste of a good pilot. In the air, she can make an F-16 do anything but fly backwards. She's that good. Could you work with her for a bit?"

"I can do that, sure... but I think there's something else on her mind, too..."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"I think she's sweet on my boyfriend."

He gave her an incredulous look. "You can't be serious!"

She nodded. "I've seen the way she looks at you... If there was a way to do it in one of those trainers, I think she'd have you inducting her into the mile high club."

"Not likely.... WE haven't joined that club yet!"

"Norm and Sue did."

"Huh? You're kidding!"

She shook her head. "They were flying that little Piper back down to Bender base last month... Norm put it on auto-pilot, bent Sue over the front seat, and gave it to her at eight thousand feet. She said it was the wildest thing she's ever done... looking out at the clouds while having her titties squeezed and her pussy filled from behind."

He smiled, reaching across and dragging her into his lap. "Well, we're not a mile high..."

"And I want to get dinner going.... down, boy. We can do That later."

"What are we having tonight?"

"Jimmy Branson shot one of the bears that were killing our cattle, earlier today. I got ten pounds of bear burger at the butcher shop. Bear burgers sound good?"

"Hell, yes... especially if we've still got some of that sharp cheddar to go with 'em!"

She nodded... "I bought another two pounds of that, shredded, to go with it. Got two more pounds of coffee, too."

Don Anderson sat back, deep in thought. He now had confirmed reports of four Chinese camps to the west and south of what they were now calling 'Klamath Base', and all of them were quietly building up large troop counts, among other things. One, to the south, had nearly thirty of the heavy armored personnel carriers, while another, southwest of them, had a dozen of the big armored attack choppers that so resembled the old Soviet 'Hinds'.

And his base was barely at half strength. It was time to call in the cavalry.

At Juniper base, his call was answered by an aide, who soon had Colonel Michaels on the line. "Karl Michaels... how can I help you, Colonel Andrews?"

"I've got Chinese building up air and ground troops to the south and southwest of here, Sir. Could you loan me some air power to counter the threat?"

Michaels, who had taken over for Rick Jamison, for the most part, looked over the inventories of aircraft, armor, and artillery, doing a bit of math in his head.

"I can give you, oh.... a dozen Blackhawks, a dozen Apaches, five each of the F16s, F18s, Hawker Harriers, and A10 Warthogs, for the air... and a dozen Abrams and another dozen Bradley's. We've got a major operation coming up here, as well, so I'm going to have to be a bit spare with infantry, but I can send you five hundred scout-snipers... a full complement of pilots, ground support teams, tank drivers and gunners, and ten truckloads of replacement armament, too, so far as that goes... will that help?"

"You bet it will, Sir! I'll need to step up the farming to feed them, but it'll be well worth it! Thank you!"

"Not to worry, young man.... we're Americans... we take care of our own. I'll have the planes on the way by this afternoon, and the supplies and troops coming down by Chinook. How long is your runway, by the way?"

Anderson shot a look at Pete Caldwell, who was overseeing some of the construction of some aspects of the new base, relaying the question before answering.

"A bit over three quarters of a mile. Is that long enough for those planes?"

"Just barely... I'd suggest extending it by another half mile before you try landing anything bigger. You have hangers for that many planes?"

"Not yet, no... but we have areas where we can park them, off the runway we have... and we're working on a secondary runway, too, though it won't be ready for another week or two."

"Well enough.... I'll spread the word to some of the training bases between you and us, too... let them know you need people and supplies. How many troops do you have housing for, currently?"

"At a guess.... about another four thousand, altogether, if we include a small town about eight miles from here. Frank Bergen's people went over it, made sure it was ready for habitation, but so far, we haven't had enough people to live there. It's drawing water and power from the same dam that we've been getting ours from. A few of the people who work the local farms live there, but that's about it."

"Well.... I'm not sure splitting your forces is such a great idea, but you have to make do with what you have.... Let me make some calls, and we'll have people on the way by noon."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it, young man... we all knew this day was coming."

As good as his word, by noon, trucks, planes, and helicopters were headed for Klamath Base... by the time darkness fell on the late spring day, the population of the new base would swell by nearly three thousand people, with more arriving throughout the night. In it's own odd way, it would prove a blessing in disguise for many of the small training bases in Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, and Oregon; it would free up a lot of space for new recruits, of which there were many.

Of course, it would also be a bit of a nightmare for the training cadre at those same bases.... but it was a small problem in the grand scheme of things.

Juniper and the Jackson hole bases both sent five hundred troops each, and a hundred of those from Juniper were pilots, mechanics, and ground support personnel.... although every man among them knew how to fire a rifle.