Dan and the Bottle Ch. 22

Mike was beside himself, trying to keep from shouting 'YES!' He wanted to, he had to admit to himself, but he couldn't take advantage of the old gentleman.

"Well, Sir, I'd like to take you up on that, but..."

George Watson thought to himself 'Here it comes... at least let me down gently, young man'.

Mike nodded to himself. "For both of these engines, I'll give you the twelve gage, a .410 with five hundred shells, and a silenced Remington .270 caliber rifle, scoped, with another three hundred rounds for that. I've got about a dozen traps, too, enough for one good trap line, that I'll throw in, too... you can trade the furs and make meals of the meat. Even then, I think I'll be getting the better end of the deal."

George's face lit up in a broad smile as he realized he was dealing with a good hearted man with a conscience. "Thank you, young man, for being honest with me. Most folks would have taken the deal I offered and not said a word. I appreciate that... Tell ya what, I've got a couple of milk crates back there, full of odds and ends, that I'm not doing anything with. I'll throw those in for free."

They quickly loaded up the whole lot, which included transmissions for both engines, a tombstone shaped tail light, and one 'coffin' gas tank, then George insisted on making a couple of sandwiches for them both and pouring two tall glasses of apple juice. By the time they'd eaten and headed back, the afternoon was half over, and some of the people there had already started to pack up and leave. Mike showed John the two big engines, and told him to help them load everything he'd promised into the older man's truck, they concluded the swap, and once they were alone, John went over what he'd learned from the younger moonshiner, and what he suspected, and Mike agreed that it might be a good idea to stay here overnight. John had already located an empty house to spend the night in, and after moving the trucks there, and parking one inside the garage, backing one up to the door, so it couldn't be gotten into, then backing the third one up to that, they walked to the town diner to have an evening meal, which John had already found would barter for their meals.

Two cans of coffee got them three meals of venison stew, along with all the cornbread and butter they could eat, and their choice of a variety of fruit juices, milk, or coffee, and as they were eating, four young women came in, to sit with them at the table next to theirs. Over after dinner coffee and pie, all four of the young women managed to invite themselves over for the evening, not that it took much persuading, and soon they were sitting in the living room of the old house.

Donna, an attractive young brunette, sat with Jim, while Sherry settled down on the loveseat with John... Mike, of course, sat with Elaine and Melinda, two blonde sisters who, while they'd been born two years apart, could easily be mistaken for twins.

Within twenty minutes of small talk, all four of the younger women made themselves clear... they were related to half the men in the county, and they didn't want babies born with half a brain, too many fingers, or no voice... and by the way their hands were moving in the laps of the traders, it was a bit obvious who they DID want babies from.

Donna made the first real move, slipping out of her sweater and shifting around to straddle Jim. She reached down to kiss him, long and hard, while her hand reached for his, bringing it to one of her full breasts.

Sherry followed suit with John, who weakly protested that he had a girlfriend back home. She smiled and replied that she didn't see his girl anywhere nearby, and he finally conceded defeat, running one hand up underneath her short skirt and finding out that she shaved. That was the last straw; he had a weakness for bald eagles. He moved around until he was laying back on the two-seat couch and pulled her along, positioning her so he could put his lips and tongue to work on her.

Elaine quietly asked Mike if he was big everywhere, and he just smiled, flexing the hard cock in the military fatigue pants that he wore, startling her when it moved against her ass. Melinda, meanwhile, shed her thin tee shirt and got his hands busy with her nice pair of 34Ds. Elaine, not one to be upstaged, reached down to unbutton his pants and gasped as she got ahold of him; he was bigger than anything she'd had up until this point. She slid down to her knees in front of him, determined to see if she could get him all the way into her mouth.

Melinda, not to be outdone, slid out of her shorts, nearly standing on the small couch and presenting her pussy to his mouth. 'Dee-lighted!' he thought, as his tongue started tracing her already-unfurling labia.

Donna, meanwhile, reached between them to unzip Jim's jeans and fished around inside for his hardening cock; once she located it, she started jacking him off slowly, while he, in turn, reached under her skirt, pulling her panties aside so he could get his fingers into her, sawing two of his digits in and out of her as she responded by becoming juicier by the second, her breath coming in little gasps.

Sherry moved around until she was in a 69 position with John. engulfing his hardness with one swallow, and began bobbing her head, licking and sucking as she took more and pulled back.

Jim almost missed it; the screech of metal being torn. "Oh, HELL, NO!" he shouted, throwing the woman off of him and buttoning his pants as he ran through the house to the side door, grabbing the M4 carbine from beside the door as he ran outside.

In the darkness between the houses were four young men, attempting to break into the backs of the Hummers while they were distracted by the free pussy inside. Illuminated by the flashlight attached to the barrel of the carbine, two of them reached for pistols in their belts.

A quick three round burst took one in the chest, and the other one's hand all but flew away from his gun, raising his hands, as lights came on inside the houses nearby.

Within moments, several of the older townspeople had gathered, some carrying lanterns, some of them armed, while John and Mike came outside, followed by the four young women.

Melinda ran to the one on the ground, but it was already too late. Turning to Jim with tears in her eyes, she moaned out "Oh my God! You didn't have to kill him! He just wanted some of your goods!"

An older man stepped forward out of the crowd. "What happened here?"

Another answered before Jim could say anything. "Isn't it obvious? Tony, Dave, Joey, and Carl, here, sent their girlfriends to distract these men, then tried to break into their trucks and steal their tradin' goods."

The three crowbars and the tire iron on the ground bore this out.

Jim nodded. "This one, here," Nodding towards the dead body, "Had his pistol half out of his belt. The rest kept their hands away from their guns... that's why they're still alive."

The older man looked over the scene carefully and nodded. The stranger had obviously had no choice. In fact, he'd shown remarkable restraint. "George, would you be so kind as to put these three in a jail cell?"

Melinda rallied at this point. "What about him? He killed Carl!" she shrieked.

The older man turned towards her, eyeing her coldly. "I'd have killed all four of them. I couldn't put a man in jail for defending his life and his property."

Besides, he thought... didn't want their little town getting THAT kind of reputation. They relied on outside traders for all manner of goods.

The townsfolk started to disperse. Before the older man stepped away, John stopped him with a look. "You can take these four sluts with you... I think it's safe to say we're no longer interested in their 'services'."

Mark Willis nodded, looking sharply at the four young women, who had long since hung their heads.

John and his crew went back inside, quickly packing up and getting ready to leave... they didn't want to give the townspeople time to change their minds.

Jim turned at a knock at the front door of the small house.

Seth Jones had seen the weapon that Jim had been carrying when the townspeople had shown up, after the shooting. He was hoping they wouldn't hold it against him; he'd stayed in town tonight in hopes of learning more about the militia group out west.

Jim swung the door open, a little surprised to see the young moonshiner they'd met earlier in the day.

"Yes? Seth, right?"

"Yes Sir... I wanted to come by to let you know, there won't be any more funny business... the whole town is pretty embarrassed by what that bunch tried to do, and they're hopin' that you won't hold it against 'em. There's guards, now, watchin', just in case anyone else gets any funny ideas. This here town can't survive long without traders like you gents; if they got that sort of reputation, they wouldn't last long."

Jim studied the younger man intensely, but could find no trace of deception. He nodded, noting the many times the younger man had spoken of the townsfolk as separate from himself.

"You speak of these folks as if you're not one of them."

"Well, Sir, actually, I'm not... I live in the hill country, about thirty miles east o' here. I come into town a few times a month, to sell my 'shine and pick up a few things for me and my family. It was just a lucky break that I was here when y'all showed up. I'm stayin' in town tonight because I don't like traveling at night."

Jim nodded. It wasn't the first time he'd run into this situation.

"I get the feeling you've got something else on your mind, though."

Seth nodded... this guy was quick. Not someone to play poker with.

"Yes, Sir, there is. I was wondering... the way you were talkin' earlier, and the weapons you guys are carryin'... do you... uhhh... do you know someone in that there militia, out west?"

Unseen by Seth, the others looked up sharply at this. Jim managed to keep his face neutral. "We've... had contact with them, once or twice. We've traded out that way a few times."

Seth's face fell for a moment. He got the idea that it might be months or even years before these men made it back out that way, and back out here.

"Damn... I was kinda hopin' you could help me contact them."

Jim raised an eyebrow, feigning simple curiosity. "Oh? Why do you want to do that?"

"Well, Sir, it sounds like they got their shit together... I was hopin' they could help us, gettin' organized, an' all. After all, who's the best teacher? Somebody who's already been there an' done that."

Jim nodded silently, rubbing his chin for a moment. The younger man was making good sense, and was smart enough to recognize his own weaknesses. Impressive.

"Well... I won't make any promises, mind you... but we're going to be headed back that way, soon enough. I'll see what I can do. I know they've got their hands full, out that way, with the Chinese, but the men I've talked to, they pretty much welcome any help they can get."

Seth grinned... it was the best thing he'd heard in a while.

"Fair enough... I couldn't ask for much more than that."

"Of course, the next question is, if you can recruit enough people, have you got enough guns for them?"

Seth nodded, grinning. "This here's Kentucky, guy... for every gun that the government confiscated, there was three more hidden away, in root cellars an' such. We mostly have the guns, and what we don't have, we been takin' offa dead Cubans. Our biggest problem is ammo, reloading gear, and army stuff... grenades, rockets, dynamite, things like that. The few hand grenades we've been takin' offa dead Cubans, well... about one in five actually work the way they're supposed to."

John nodded, rubbing at his chin. He knew there had to be at least a few dozen old military bases between here and Wyoming, every one of them a potential source of supplies, and expanding out this way wouldn't take long. The Chinese, and the Cubans, for that matter, had, in large part, made the same mistake that so many politicians had made in the years before the great war; they ignored much of the heart of the country. If what he'd learned in school was accurate, they'd even had a term for it... 'fly-over' country. Rapid expansion out this way could backfire on them, it was true, but he was fairly certain that the risk had the potential to be well worth the reward. There were, literally, millions of people in small towns just like this one, relatively untouched by the radiation; many of these, he knew, would be willing to fight, given the proper incentive.

The younger man took his leave, leaving John, Jim, and Mike a fair bit to think about. Mike settled on the couch to take the first watch, allowing the other two a chance to get some sleep. It had been an eventful evening.

Later that day, Mike Philips, who had taken over the Mayoral duties of Johnny Corcoran back at the Cave, sat back, looking over the notes he'd taken during John's satellite phone call. Studying the map on the wall in the control room, he could see the military bases between here and Kentucky; more than half had been nuked, but that still left five that should be intact. There were also hundreds of small towns between here and there that had been far enough away from the major cities that they likely hadn't been hit by too much of the fallout. That equated to millions of potential survivors, some of which, he knew, could be persuaded to fight.

Particularly if they were currently under the thumb of foreign soldiers.

Doris was working in the garden, pulling a few weeds and errant bits of grass, when Mickey pulled up. She turned to see who it was, nearly shouting with joy at their boyfriend's return.

He smiled as he got out of his truck, calling out to her with an unnecessary "Honey, I'm home!"

She ran into his arms, clearly glad to see him, but pulled back in concern when she ran into him and he winced a little in pain, looking hard at him.

"What happened? Are you ok?"

He nodded. "Sorry, babe... just a little sore from all that time behind the wheel. I guess I'm not gettin' any younger."

"Mmmm... none of us are, dear. Why don't you go get under some hot water in the shower for a bit, that'll work out the kinks, and I'll get you some dinner going. BJ brought over a whole bunch of cilantro and bay leaves, and I got some garlic, a big block of parmesan, and some of that 'italian sausage' you like so much from the store. I was going to make some pasta Alfredo with it... what do you think?"

"I think you're making me hungry, babe. Sounds like a good plan. I'll be out of the shower in twenty minutes."

Jeff Gelder and his team were back in Sturgis, making their reports. Jeff pointed to a spot on the old roadmap, indicating the spot where the Chinese were setting up their base.

"It isn't on the map, but the signs outside of town say it's called 'Hastings'. The Chinese are set up in a row of houses, storefronts, and other old buildings on the main drag through town, which is called Austin road... we have the GPS coordinates. We also have a list of street addresses of the houses and buildings they're set up in. "

He paused here, digging through his pack and coming up with an old notebook that he had carried with him, idly noting that this one was about finished; time to draw a new one from the company stores. Flipping it open to a crude map he'd drawn, he continued.

"Here, here, and here," He said, as he pointed out several specific buildings, which were each marked with big letter 'W's, "are garages, being used to warehouse their extra supplies... weapons, ammo, rations, fuel supplies, the works. The rest of these houses are being used as barracks, 6, 8 soldiers in each one. Down at this end are three houses full of their officers, with the one on the end housing, I think, the officer in command. "

Frank McGuire nodded, stroking his chin as he studied the maps and the pages of notes. Jeff and his team had done their usual thorough and detailed job, and had brought back plenty of intelligence for his planning team to work with... and they'd have to get to planning soon, before this Chinese base got too well established. This one would likely be mostly spec ops work, given the way the Chinese were spread out. One or two men going into each house late at night, catching them asleep and either cutting their throats or shooting them with silenced pistols.

"Any prisoners? While we're on the subject, did you see any sign of a comm shack, or any kind of offices?"

Jeff shook his head. "No sir... and we watched them for two days. That's the problem with them using individual houses... no mess hall, no outside latrine, none of the things we're used to seeing at one of their bases. This one is going to be tricky."

McGuire nodded, but then grinned. "Agreed... but if there's one thing our people are good at, they can do tricky. How many troops would you say are there, total?"

"If they've continued at the rate of expansion they were at a few days ago... hundred and a quarter, maybe as high as two hundred. It might be a good idea to call Wyoming, see if Mike Phillips can loan us a few hundred scouts."

"Just what I was thinking... go ahead, make the call, ask for... oh... make it five hundred. Silenced weapons, full camo gear, full field loads, night vision gear, the works. At least a hundred of them should be snipers, too, come to think of it. I don't want any of these bastards getting away... We need to send a message, here."

Jeff grinned... "I think I know a better way to send that 'message', Sir."

It took nearly a week to set up the entire operation, and Frank Bergen was more than happy to include the extra machinery once Jeff filled him in on the details of what he needed them for.

Everything went off smoothly, and soon, they were back in Sturgis, dumping the dead bodies of a hundred and twenty five dead Chinese at the site McGuire had designated as a composting pile. It took a full day and part of a second to run them all through the industrial wood chipper; It might have been two, had they included the heads.

Those, they had left behind, neatly stacked in the center of Austin Road, right in front of the house formerly used by their commander. His head was at the very top of the stack, still wearing his uniform cap.

Just to drive the point home, each head had it's former body's private parts sticking out of it's mouth.

After Jeff made his final report, McGuire waited until the younger man had left, and placed a call to the Cave's main accounting office, telling the Head accountant to add five thousand credits to the accounts of each person involved in the successful operation, and double that amount to the officer in charge, Jeff Gelder.

Bob Sharpe climbed into the shower, exhausted from three days of sorties against the Chinese. They seemed to be building bases as fast as the militia was destroying them; he and his fellow pilots were busier than usual. He sighed deeply as the hot water sprayed across his back, feeling tense muscles start to unkink. He didn't notice the slim arm that reached through the shower curtain, testing the temperature of the water. Jenny climbed in with him, switching the showerhead to a 'pulse' pattern, taking it from it's hook and playing the stream across his back.

"Oh, God, that feels good! You're an Angel, babe."

She smiled... "Really? Last night you were calling me your little devil!" she replied, as she continued the impromptu water massage with one hand, reaching up to knead his shoulder with the other.

He dropped one hand from the wall and groped blindly behind himself, seeking and finding one of her thighs, following it up to the folds between her legs, running two fingers across the unfurling labia, finding her clit and stroking it lightly. She opened her legs slightly, and his middle finger slid into her juicy hole, looking for, and finding, the spongy bit of tissue he knew was there, massaging her G-spot lightly, which he knew would drive her over the top.