Dan and the Bottle Ch. 22

He caught her look and grinned. "Relax, dear... I didn't run across any Muslim punks. You'll have to suffer along with fresh venison." he replied as he fed the first few strips into the grinder.

She threw him a quizzical look. "When did you shoot it?"

He smiled. "I didn't... I hit it with the truck."

She burst out laughing; he smiled a little, which brought her up short. "Oh, my God! You're serious!"

He smiled back, nodding. "Had to run a little ways off the road to get him, but it saved me the cost of a bullet. The rest of him is in the cool room, hanging. I'll finish skinning him and butchering after dinner." He replied, starting to turn the handle of the meat grinder, sliding a bowl under the spout to catch the ground burger meat.

She smiled, reaching for the bowl as the last of it came spilling out, eyeing the fresh blood that collected to one side of the bowl... a sign that it was very fresh meat.

"You ground up a lot... what were you planning?"

"Either venison burgers or meatloaf... take your pick."

"Burgers sound good. I brought this along."

She set what looked like a foot long wax brick on the table.

He raised an eyebrow at this, and she smiled. "Cheese... dad made it last year, and it's been aging since then. He said this recipe was a 'medium sharp cheddar'."

"Cool. slice off about four or five slices, we can have cheeseburgers and moonshine. Hang on... can you make that batter for onion rings? I've got more onions from the garden than I know what to do with."

She smiled, taking down a bowl from the cupboard as he reached into the fridge for a jug of apple juice he'd picked up the week before.

"Hey, do you have any eggs? There aren't any left in the fridge."

He nodded, mentally kicking himself for forgetting the cooler. Reaching into it, he first pulled out a big plastic bag that appeared to contain something bloody. "Here, give these to your dad. I know he likes to make stew out of the heart and liver."

"Oh, my... you're Really sucking up to him!"

He smiled. "Never hurts to have a doctor on your side, dear."

He pulled out the egg box, plus a handful of other things, and set the cooler aside.

After dinner, and finishing the skinning and butchering, they sat in companionable silence while a movie played on the flat screen, sipping on apple juice and moonshine cocktails and smoking a little in his antique water pipe. It didn't stay that way for long, though, of course...

She was laying down the length of the couch, her head in his lap, his arm laying over her shoulder, his fingers lazily fondling her left breast. She could feel the light stroking of his fingers on her nipple, feel it traveling down the length of her body... under her cheek, she could feel him becoming mildly aroused. No surprise, considering he'd been on the road for more than a week. She rubbed her cheek against his hardening dick, while he squeezed her boob a bit harder, until she sat up, her back to the TV, and unzipped his trousers, unfastening the button and fishing out his hardening cock, and taking the head in her mouth. Sucking lightly at the head, she worked her tongue and lips over it slowly, which she knew he loved.

He, meanwhile, worked his hand on the button of her slacks, pulling down her zipper and reaching in, realizing she hadn't bothered with panties tonight... but she Had shaved. He smiled as he began rubbing one finger up and down her unfurling pussy lips, feeling the small hood peel back to expose her hard little clit. Working his middle finger into her tight little cunt, he curled it up to rub gently at her G-spot, which he knew would drive her to the edge, while she did her best to get all eight inches of him into her mouth.

Soon enough she was trembling, trying to moan even as her head bobbed in his lap, which was bringing him closer to his own climax, but she had other ideas. Releasing him, she stood up suddenly, shedding her pants and straddling her lover, fitting the head of his cock to her opening and dropping down on him hard. She began to ride him, slowly, smiling down on him as she savored every inch.

"Oh, God, That's good!" she exclaimed as she bottomed out on his shaft.

She began to ride him, slowly, while shedding her thin T-shirt entirely, rubbing her bare tits against his chest as he kissed and nibbled at her throat, resting his hands on her bare hips as he started pushing back up into her. She started pushing back down, harder, riding him like a stallion, and he picked up speed as well, grunting with the effort while she was half moaning, half screaming, "Oh, God, fuck me harder!"

Finally, neither of them could hold back any longer, and they came together, in a climax so forceful that she almost passed out for a minute.

Mike Philips looked over the list of ordnance that the advance team in Kentucky had requested and smiled. It wasn't a lot of equipment, and a mere twenty instructors and a hundred scout-snipers was no big deal. A ten thousand gallon tanker of av-gas would be a bit trickier, but not impossible... but medics and doctors were in short supply at the moment... Frank Bergen could send a few dozen tech boys out, and this 'high school' probably already had driving simulators. Flight simulators would be a bit tougher, but there might be an old flight school nearby, or better yet, either an old US airbase or an Air National Guard base. The rest of the things on Sam's list would be no trouble.

By the next day, three, twenty five foot moving vans, six deuce and a half trucks full of troops, a tanker full of fuel, another, full of diesel fuel, a dozen more men on old Harleys, and three Chinooks and three Cobra attack helicopters were headed for northwestern Kentucky. It would be a leisurely two day trip... after which, everyone in the convoy would be wishing they'd been born twins.

Within a week, Frank Bergen's team had the old school set up with a massive diesel generator, power was running to the areas Sam had specified, the kitchen was set up and fully stocked, the target range had been built, four large warehouses nearby, which fronted a long, straight stretch of road, were set up as hangers for the various planes they would eventually be bringing out, and the entire place took on the look of a proper military base.

Seth wasn't idle, either... even with the stipulation that each new recruit have at least three people vouch for him, they soon had over a hundred people lined up... and the old lie detection equipment weeded out a few bad apples.

He came by, a week later, to see how things were shaping up, and was amazed by the progress they'd made.

Seth looked around, seeing the people that had come out from Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Missouri, here to help get them set up, and was surprised at the sheer number... Sam came walking up, smiling, and Seth turned to him, at a loss for words.

"Lordy! How many people did you bring?"

Sam grinned as he answered. "About four hundred, total... there's more at the airport we've set up, and we're working on a hospital a couple of blocks away. Some of them are fresh recruits, from areas we passed through on the way here. We can start training next week. How many people have you got lined up so far?"

Seth scratched at his chin for a moment. "A bit over a hundred... you were right, by the way."

Sam raised an eyebrow at this.

"Them 'lie detectors' was a good idea... we caught four people tryin' to get in, turned out to be spies for the Cubans. They... won't be passing any more information to them bastards."

Sam didn't bother to ask... by the younger man's tone, he knew... the traitors were no longer consuming precious oxygen. He smiled at the thought... this kid would do to ride the river with.

"Ok, well, on the way here, our people picked up a bunch of extra people... from Nebraska, Missouri, and Illinois, mostly. Some of them will continue to show up over the next few weeks. See to it that they're shown to houses that have fireplaces for heat. Most of 'em, I think, will be pretty well self-sufficient, I think most of them are farmers, so just show them where to plant crops and where the composting is done, I think they'll take it from there."

"Good... havin' a bunch more people growin' crops is always a good thing."

Sam nodded. "As for that, here's a word of advice... Your town needs to establish a few big fields... I mean like two, three, five hundred acres big... for growing staples. Things like corn, wheat, potatoes... things that none of you can do without. By all means, have everyone growing their private gardens, but everyone growing wheat at the same time gets a bit redundant. Assign someone to keep track of who's doing what in the community farms and those who help out can have first crack at the flour that comes out of it... those who don't can trade for it, with whatever they're growing... tomatoes, carrots, what have you."

He rubbed at his goatee for a moment, and continued. "Back home, we use a system of credits... different types of work earn different amounts of credit. That credit can be used at the different stores, bars, and restaurants for goods and services. It's not so different from a system of pure barter."

Seth rubbed at his own chin, nodding... "Makes sense... we can all grow small farms of the stuff we like, trade for those things we don't have room to grow, and grow a few things for everyone to share in."

"Exactly... and you don't wind up with some crops rotting in the fields while other things you need aren't planted in the first place."

Seth nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe have a town meeting, get everyone on the same page, get everyone growing different stuff, so we don't wind up with too many tomatoes and not enough garlic."

Sam smiled and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "You've got the idea."

Don Anderson sat back in his office, going over the latest reports. His teams were doing a good job finding the smaller Chinese camps, but this latest report was troubling... it seemed that the further south they got, the bigger the camps they found. The latest was a massive encampment, estimated at well over two thousand soldiers, and half as many support personnel. He sat back, rubbing the bridge of his nose as a small headache worked at gaining a foothold behind his eyes.

Of course, he wasn't without resources of his own; his own troop count hovered right around the fourteen hundred mark, not including fifty fighter pilots and a dozen good tank crews, with over three hundred and fifty support people. Still, they were woefully outnumbered at the moment, and at least four hundred of his ground troops were still in training. It was obvious that they'd have to step up recruiting from the nearby towns.

He consulted a small note pad, dialing a satellite phone number, and soon had John Medford on the line, asking him to run by the office, and bring by his girlfriend, as well.

The pair of them showed up ten minutes later, and he told them what he wanted. Seeing that they were a couple, he didn't want to split them up, and the pair of them would make a good recruiting team.

John nodded, but then frowned. "I can do that, but what about Emily?"

Don mentally kicked himself. He'd forgotten that Medford had a young daughter.

"Well... she's in school most of the day, right?"

Medford nodded.

"Ok, no problem then... most of the towns I want you to visit are a hundred, hundred and fifty miles away, at most. You can be there and back in the time she's in school. If you run a bit late, no big deal... one of the other parents can run by with their kids, have them go out to the playground together."

Medford frowned at this, shaking his head. "Won't work... she's a loner, like her dad. Most of her friends are in Louanne's shooting classes. Give me a couple of days to set her up with somebody to take her to the shooting range, and we'll get back to you."

Anderson nodded and grinned. Young Emily sounded like the sort of kid he hoped to have someday.

Mike O'Connell was back at his ranch, going over the current count of his herd of beef cattle. Something was wrong; the count was down by five cows from two months ago... and his ranch hands had just finished going out to the furthest reaches of his spread, rounding up all of the stragglers. He picked up the radio, calling his foreman to the office.

When he appeared, Mike didn't beat around the bush. "Frank, we seem to have a problem... the count is short by five cows."

Frank poured himself a cup of coffee, nodding. "I know... and that ain't all, boss. We've got about half a dozen calves missing, too... and I think I know where they went."

Mike raised an eyebrow and motioned for the other man to continue.

"You remember, those three men, came up from south of here last spring, lookin' for work?"

"Gregson, Hughes, and Markovitch? What about 'em?"

"Twice in the past couple of months I've found them together, fixin' sections of fence that they said they found broken open."

"You think they've gone into business for themselves?"

"Well, Sir, I don't know... but I know for a fact that there was nothing wrong with one o' them fences the day before. I know because I'd ridden that fenceline, and there was nothin' wrong with it."

O'Connell nodded, scratching his chin as he thought it over. "Ok... quietly pass the word to some of the old guard, have 'em keep an eye on those three, but don't tip them off that we may be on to them. I want to be sure before we go accusing them of anything."

"You got it, Boss... anything else?"

"Yeah, while I'm thinking about it... how are the reloading operations going?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that. We're coming up short on lead for casting fresh bullets out of. I was thinking, maybe we could send out a small crew, to hit some of the junkyards for wheel weights and so on."

O'Connell nodded. "While they're at it, tell them to load up as many old car batteries as they can find, too... dump out the acid, bring them back empty. We'll take them apart, melt down the lead plates inside, and use them too."

Frank eyed him skeptically. "You sure about that? Leftover acid in the lead could be a problem for the rifle barrels."

O'Connell nodded. "I thought about it, but I think the smelting will take care of that. Just make sure the furnace is outdoors for the initial meltdown... pour it into ingot molds first, to purify it, then melt it again for the bullet molds."

It was clear that Frank still had some doubts, but he nodded anyway. "Ok, we'll try it. Has Chet delivered those bullet molds he promised us, last month?"

"Three of them, yeah... five cavity molds, so if we've got the lead, we can make about two hundred bullets an hour for the M16s. He said he'd be starting on the .45s, 9mms, and .308s over the next few weeks. He's doing a ton of work on harvesting equipment at the moment, too."

Frank smiled at this. "Perfect... We're gonna need 'em. Can't be sure that trader will be back this way, any time soon."

"I've been thinking of him... something he let slip when he was here... "

"About the storage lockers?"

O'Connell nodded. "Yeah... sounds like it might be a good idea here, too... there's, what? Two of those places nearby?"

"Three, actually. Might not be a bad idea to send out a couple of crews, see what they can find. Even if they don't find very much, it'd be more than we have now."

O'Connell smiled and agreed. "Alright... let's hold it to one crew, though, for the time being. We need every man we can get for the harvest. A three man crew, one or two of the big pick-ups... that dually with the cap would be perfect; a pair of bolt cutters, and work gloves. Let's see... their main focus should be guns and ammunition, anything related to hunting and fishing, camo clothing, tools... secondary would be kitchen stuff; coffee makers, crock pots, that kind of thing... if we can't use it here, we can trade the stuff for things we Do need. "

Frank nodded. "Gardening tools would come in handy, too... rakes, hoes, shovels... we can use those for some of the kitchen gardens."

Mike smiled and nodded... "Sounds like a plan... find three guys with good judgment, send 'em out with a written list, tell them to be there and back in a day, and report to you what they find. Just test the waters, for now, see what all is out there."

Frank grinned and said "I'll have the team on the road first thing in the morning."

John Medford and his girlfriend Louanne had been on the road for three days, and had hit two small towns, talking at length with the town council in one, and the village elders at the second, being fairly well received at both.

Of course, the fact that they'd showed up with boxes of Cave-supplied chocolate bars and vacuum-sealed dried fruits and vegetables, along with a few extra shotguns and boxes of shells hadn't hurt, either.

This was their third recruiting trip, and if the results of the first two were any indication, they could have as many as five hundred new people by the end of the summer. They had to be careful. though... there was always the chance they'd run across collaborators, people who worked with the Chinese in order to save some of their crops for themselves. This had already happened to one of the other recruiting teams... they had barely escaped with their lives. Another team had run up on a nest of bandits... all three of them had struggled their way back to Klamath Base severely injured, and one of their number had died on the operating table. It had only happened after they'd run through every round of ammunition they were carrying.

Sam sat back in the class room, waiting for the first of the people he was teaching 'ballistic math' to turn in their papers for grading. There were, as usual, a few that were naturals; they could figure the ballistics for a long range shot in their heads. Then there were the others, who took half an hour to figure out a single shot. Most of the class, though, were somewhere in the middle. Some had trouble estimating distances, or wind speeds; to others, it came as naturally as breathing.

It was his job to bring them all up to that level.

The first day in the class room, he had explained to these people that the Militia of Wyoming relied heavily on snipers and controlled fire. Many had nodded, knowing what it meant to conserve ammunition. Many of them were constantly running short on it, and finding or trading for it was usually problematic. It just wasn't as available as it used to be. When one man had remarked on this, Sam had to hide his grin. He knew that one if the tech crews was setting up a new powder mill, a mere two miles away, and a reloading factory right next door to that. Another small shop was set up in the same business park, turning sheets of brass into primers and fresh shell casings; soon enough, they'd have more ammunition than they knew what to do with.

Jim Archer woke up to unfamiliar surroundings...he looked around, first seeing a bank of electronic monitors, the wires from them leading to various patches on his chest and abdomen. Another was clamped to his right index finger, and he had I.V. tubes in each arm. It took him a few minutes to realize he was in a hospital room. He realized that his wife was sitting in one of the chairs, head tilted back, snoring softly.

"Where the hell am I"

Jan woke up and looked over at him. "You're in the hospital wing, honey. Do you remember what happened?"

He shook his head, unable to cut through the fog in his mind.

"We were at the dinner table, celebrating... Jimmy had just told us that he'd proposed to Debbie, and she'd said yes. You'd broken out that bottle of twelve year old scotch, and we were drinking to his engagement, when you dropped your glass, grabbed at your chest, and fell out of the chair."