Dan and the Bottle Ch. 22

She finally couldn't take it any longer, and hung the showerhead back on the hook.

She reached her arms around him, hugging him from behind briefly before reaching for his already hard cock, and he smiled as she began stroking it lightly.

"Feels like someone's horny again." he grinned as he turned to face her. Grabbing her by the hips, he held her off the ground, back against the tiles, then let her slide down a little at a time, impaling her on his shaft as she came down, thrusting into her as she stayed pinned against the wall of the shower stall. She wrapped her legs around his midsection as his hips began moving faster, attempting to match his movements, though the awkward position afforded her little leverage to do so, moaning almost nonstop as her orgasm built. They finally came together, both shuddering as their respective juices flowed, and they stayed in that position for long moments, until the hot water started to run low, kissing furiously in the afterglow of their respective orgasms.

A week later, a small, strange convoy rolled into Kent. It was led by four men on motorcycles, followed by two big Army trucks, with two Hummers bringing up the rear. The twenty-five men and women walked, en masse, into the same diner where the four traders had been served a week before, and the owner of the restaurant came out, talking with the leaders of the group briefly before telling the waitresses to 'give them whatever they want'. Once back in her office, she made a quick phone call to her cousin Seth, telling him to get his skinny ass to town NOW.

His wish to contact the Wyoming Militia, it seemed, had been granted.

Meanwhile, three of the strangers brought in the agreed-upon barter.

She smiled as she restocked her shelves with ten cans of coffee and ten pounds of salt and sugar, and locked four hundred rounds of .308 and ten times that number of .22s in her safe.

Seth Jones smiled to himself as he hung up the phone... he'd been fairly certain that the three traders had been somehow connected to the militia group out west... he'd never thought he'd get a reaction this quick, though. All but running to his old truck, he cranked it up and tore out of the front yard like his ass was on fire, barely stopping long enough to load up the ten gallons of moonshine for his cousin Marie. He pulled into town just thirty five minutes later, and nearly shit himself when he saw the line of Hummers, deuce and a half's, and ancient Harleys, all painted in a strange, random tiger striped pattern. He stopped to talk to Marie, who had stalled the Militia members as long as she could with food, freshly made coffee, and homemade pies. She nodded in the direction of one table in particular, indicating the man who seemed to be in charge, and he kissed her on the cheek, gave her asscheek a squeeze, and told her to have someone go out to his truck for the requested 'shine, and walked over.

"I understand you folks might be lookin' for me."

One man looked over at him, eyeing him up and down. He had a goatee and hair in a shade of black that would make coal dust look like dandruff, and the t-shirt he wore did nothing to hide the corded muscles in his arms. He assessed Seth in a quick look, and wondered if this was the right guy to talk to... Seth was thin to the point of appearing bony, and appeared to be barely out of his teens, although he was actually in his mid twenties.

"Depends. We were told that a young man named Seth was asking about us."

Seth nodded once. "Yes Sir, that'd be me... if you mean what I think you mean." He took a quick look around the diner, but it was all but deserted. "Last week, a group of traders hit town, and their leader said he'd do what he could to contact that there militia group out west, try to put me in contact with them... might that be you folks?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

Sam Martin smiled coyly... "Now why would you want to contact a militia group, operating nearly a thousand miles away from here?"

He knew the answer he was looking for... 'Let's see if this kid answers correctly'. he thought to himself.

Seth nodded again, once. "Well, Sir, Me and a few friends are trying to start up a group like that... we need help in trainin', how to set up the... what do they call it, the command chain, hell, we need help that we probably don't know that we need."

A ghost of a smile crossed Sam's face, and his mental evaluation of this kid went up a notch. He knew enough to know that he didn't know everything... that was a good starting point. He wasn't some cocky kid who just wanted to play at being a soldier. His arms, while not exactly bulging with muscle, appeared to show a wiry strength, common to people who did a lot of hard work but never got quite enough protein in their diets.

"How many in your group, currently?"

Seth scratched at his chin in thought for a minute before answering. "We started with about twenty people... but each of them has brought in a few more... right now, I'd guess we've got close to sixty."

Sam snorted at such a low number... it was hardly worth their time. "You intend to keep recruiting, I hope?"

Seth nodded. "Yes, Sir... I know it ain't much to work with, but we gotta start somewhere, right?"

Sam nodded, stroking his beard with one hand, reaching for his coffee cup with the other. The kid had a point. "Well, yeah, that's true... but to start a really proper sized group, you'll need at least a hundred people, and eventually, you're going to need more military equipment. Grandpa's old shotgun and your daddy's deer rifle will only take you so far... and you need a steady supply of ammunition, so's you've got some for training."

Seth grinned at this. "You're right... we took a bunch of AK's from a Cuban camp a while back, when we took back a bunch of kids that they took, tryin' to brainwash 'em, I expect. We didn't give 'em the chance... had the kids back the same day, took all the weapons they had there, and burned their camp to the ground."

"What did you do with the Cubans?"

The grim look in his eyes answered before he did. "We killed them all and burned their bodies."

Sam nodded in approval... he liked the way this kid thought. His level of respect ticked up another notch.

"Did you gather any intel before you set the place on fire?"

"What do you mean?" The younger man looked genuinely puzzled.

"The Chinese we've been fighting, out west, always have a communications shack. The paperwork there, the maps and such, contain information that you can use against them... and you'd be surprised how often you'll find things like inventories, lists of informers, that sort of thing. The maps will tell you where to look for targets, and the lists of informers will tip you off on who you can't trust. Good things to know, when you're recruiting blind."

Seth's eyes grew distant as he thought over the stranger's words... and realized he was right. Knowing who could not be trusted ahead of time would give them a huge advantage, and knowing where all the Cuban encampments were would save a lot of time.

Sam smiled as he saw his words sink in.

"Well, young man, if you want our help, you'll have it, but there are a few things that we'll expect from you."

"Like...?"

Sam held up a hand, his forefinger pointing straight up.

"One... a place to set up camp for me and my crew. Preferably an empty building, big enough for everybody you see here."

He extended another finger.

"Two... a second place, big enough to hold classes in for as many people as you want us teaching at one time... that needn't be too big, we prefer to keep the classes small, so each person gets the attention they deserve."

He extended a third finger.

"Three... an area, outside, to set up a target range, so we can assess the skills of everyone involved. We can't fix things until we know what's broken."

He extended a fourth finger.

"Four... We need a small building to set up shop in, preferably someplace easily defended; we need to be able to set up our radio equipment, so it has to be wired up in such a way that we can hook up a small generator and be in business in a few hours. A small building with half a dozen offices and a conference room or two would be ideal."

He extended his thumb.

"And finally, a place where we can stash the vehicles, where the Cubans aren't liable to find them... preferably someplace with a few attached stock rooms, so we can lock up the extra supplies we brought along."

Seth nodded, his mind racing as he thought of, and discarded, various ideas. "Only one place I can think of, that fits all of those... the old high school."

"You don't use it to teach your kids?"

Seth shook his head... "Naaahhh... no teachers. Besides, most folks around here prefer to homeschool 'em. We tried them history books, from back just before the war, but the elders said most of 'em were full of... how did that one say it? Oh, yeah... 'liberal socialist claptrap'. All kinds of nonsense about how America brought all the problems on itself, and taxes had never been high enough, and people who were in business just to make money were evil... we burned 'em in our fireplaces to keep warm. 'Bout the onliest thing they was good for." He scratched his chin in thought for a moment, and added "Our ancestors had enough real histories, and books and whatnot written by the founders of the country, to keep the kids educated."

Sam smiled... this community was going to fit in just fine.

"Ok... next thing... are there any old military bases in the area?"

Seth nodded. "There was an old National Guard base, about fifty miles south of here, but it got hit pretty hard, back during the war. No nukes, just regular bombs, but they didn't leave much standing. It's been pretty well picked over by the Cubans."

Sam frowned at this, though he knew there was always a fair chance that they might have missed what could be right under their feet. It could wait, for now. He and his team had brought along enough spare gear to get the ball rolling, and flying or trucking in a few more tons would only be a matter of a few days, but if they could find what they needed locally, it would save a lot of time.

"Ok... next item on the list... is there an old airfield anywhere nearby? Someplace we could land some helicopters, maybe a few jets?"

Seth thought long and hard before answering this one.

"Jets, I ain't so sure about... there's an old shopping mall, about five miles west o'here, that has a big parking lot. That could probably take care of the helicopters... and it has an underground parking garage, so you'd have a place to hide them." He seemed to think it over for a few seconds, then continued. "There used to be an old airstrip, in the next county, but it was just for small planes... Cessna's and such."

Sam nodded... a shopping mall would be a good place for a heliport, in truth... it would have loading docks, so materials could be unloaded from Chinooks or Hueys and loaded directly into trucks. An underground parking structure, if the door was tall enough, would make an ideal hanger, and there would be plenty of room to warehouse any excess gear that had to be stored overnight, if they didn't have enough room on the trucks.

"Alright, then... let's you and I take a ride, you can show me this high school. If it's suitable, we'll come back for the rest of my team, and we can get started setting up."

Seth nodded, not entirely certain he could trust this man. He stopped at his own truck first, strapping on his gun belt, the old Army issued Colt .45ACP, feeling a little reassured when the burly stranger nodded approvingly.

"Good idea... if the building is supposed to be empty, you never know what you'll find there."

Seth nodded, though he was thinking more of having to defend himself from the man before him.

Sam knew perfectly well the true reason the younger man had grabbed the belt, with the pistol, hunting knife, and spare magazines, but he chose to remain silent, rather than take offense. After all, it was a precaution he'd have taken himself.

In ten minutes, they pulled into the driveway of the old school building, and around to the back, where there was not only another parking area, but an area with two large roll-up garage doors as well. He looked over at Seth, the question clearly on his face.

"Auto shop class rooms... they had to have enough space for about fifteen cars, so they're pretty big. Should be plenty of room for the trucks you brought out with you."

Sam pulled up to one of the doors, looking it over carefully. It appeared to be a good, solid, heavy steel door. They both jumped out, walking over to one of the regular entry doors, jimmying the door and walking inside, Sam turning on his flashlight.

Inside were several old hoists and a few other large tools, including what appeared to be an old alignment rack and a good sized air compressor.

They rolled up one of the main doors, allowing in a flood of light, exposing the rest of the shoproom, which was, indeed, big enough to store the Hummers, the bigger trucks, and the bikes, with room enough left over to work in. The old tool cage, of course, was empty, but that wasn't a big problem; they had plenty of tools of their own.

In one corner of the shop, an old car sat, more rust than anything, which would have to be cleared out, but that wasn't a big deal. If the Hummer couldn't tow it, one of the big trucks could pull it out. In another corner was an electrical box on the wall, which would make a good hook up point for one of the temporary generators.

Exploring the rest of the big, L-shaped building, revealed, among other things, a fair sized gymnasium, an auditorium, plenty of classrooms, and a large lunchroom with an attached kitchen. The school library was almost intact, although many of the books were in sad shape. Still, it would make a decent starting point. It would make a perfect base, and a good place to teach the Northern Kentucky Militia the basics in relative comfort, before taking them out into the field for the practical training... and the nearby football field would be a good place for short range shooting lessons.

Sam turned to Seth as they made their way back to the truck and clapped him on the shoulder. "This is perfect. Give my team a week and we'll have the place up and running. While we're getting set up, I want you to start recruiting... but be careful how you go about it. We'll move in here, get power running to a few classrooms, the kitchen, the lunchroom, and a few others... we're going to need a few things. Mattresses, first off... something so that my team can set up a few rooms as temporary barracks. Are there any old furniture stores around here?"

Seth nodded, surprised at how fast the man's mind was working.

"Good... we'll need a source for a few things... furniture for the areas my team will be using as living quarters, for one. We've brought along about six month's worth of food with us, mostly canned and dried stuff, but we'll want to supplement that with fresh stuff, often enough. How often is that 'farmer's market' held?"

"A couple of times a month. I think there's gonna be another one next week. Best things for tradin' are guns and ammo, food, candles, lamp oil, that sorta thing."

Sam nodded and turned back to the doors. "Ok, good enough... let's get back to the diner, I'll collect the team and we'll go to work. You, meanwhile, start talking to the people you think need training the most, get a list together, we'll go over it in a week."

He paused for a moment... something was digging at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it... then it hit him.

"That seems like an awful big school for such a small town."

Seth nodded. "It was the school for five different towns, actually... but it hasn't been used in years".

Jerry Duncan pulled in to the lean-to garage at his shelter, tired, but feeling good to be back home. He was barely out of the truck when Bear came rushing to greet him.

"Whoa, down, boy! Yes, I've got food for you, but you have to let me unload first."

Bear cocked his head to one side, as though he was trying to puzzle out the words. 'Food' he understood... the rest was just so much noise to him.

The guns and ammunition were the first things to be unloaded, of course. Second came the big cooler and the several boxes of canned and dried foods he'd picked up along the way. Finally, he reached in and dragged out the carcass of the deer he'd hit just a few miles back. A hundred pounds of fresh venison was exactly what he needed, and he'd had to run off the road to run down the young buck. The furry body still bore the marks where the grill guard had hit it.

He carried the field-dressed body inside, through the kitchen, to his 'cool room', hanging the big deer by it's back legs from a hook in the ceiling. Skinning it could wait, for the moment, though he did take the time to peel back the skin, exposing the ribs, and slice off one big slab of meat to feed himself, Bear, and whoever else might just pop in; then he slid a bucket under the hanging corpse to catch the excess blood before closing the door and walking back to the kitchen.

He was just getting things set up in the kitchen when tires crunched in the gravel driveway. He looked out to see Janet just climbing off her ATV, a big smile on her face at his return.

"Hi, Honey!" she exclaimed as she ran up behind him.

He turned away from the counter, where he'd been slicing the big slab into smaller cuts, and slid his arms around her.

"Hi, babe... how's everything been while I've been gone?"

"Ok... Bear's been a good boy, except for tangling with a raccoon yesterday. Dad shot the 'coon before it could bite him, skinned it... no sign of rabies, so we made stew out of it. Other than that it's been pretty quiet around here. Bring back anything good this time?"

He nodded, reaching into the first old wooden crate on the table. The first thing he pulled out were the three big jars of the light grey ointment.

"I found an old man with a chemistry set... he said these are a strong antibiotic... have your dad test them, just to make sure. If they check out alright, I want one for myself, he can have the other two."

The next item he pulled out was a gallon jug of clear liquid. He smirked at this. "I don't know how good of a chemist he is, but the old fart is a hell of a moonshiner... I got twenty gallons from him... most of it got mixed in with the gas in my tank, but I held back three gallons for drinkin'... take one home with you for your dad, fill up your 'wheeler with one, and I'll keep the other here for us."

The next thing out of the box was the long bandolier of grenade launcher shells. He hadn't even counted these, yet; doing so, now, he found there were twenty of them. Taking time to examine them closely, he learned that they were an equal mix of high explosives and incendiaries... he grinned. 'Serious fun', he thought, setting them aside. Janet looked at them, fascinated, as he set them aside, next to the black rifle/launcher combo they were for.

He reached in with both hands, picking up the two cans of coffee. Setting these on the counter, he saw her puzzled look. He smiled and answered her unasked question.

"Hawaiian coffee. Strong stuff. We'll have some, after dinner."

"Where the hell did you find Hawaiian coffee?"

"Ran into a group of 'prepper-traders'... They've been growing it in their bunker since back before the war. They gave me these for free, when we were done trading. We had breakfast together, and they made a pot of this... damned good coffee."

Next he pulled out a big plastic bag full of a leafy green substance. "Got this from a farmer down in Ohio... We'll smoke a little after dinner."

She eyed the strips of meat he had on the cutting board warily. "What are we having?"