Shattered Boundaries Ch. 08

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No one knows what a new day will bring.
3.9k words
4.69
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Part 8 of the 10 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 07/16/2011
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Well here we are again. Its been months when I promised weeks, but I'm going to try once more to keep going til the end. A special thank you to the anon that reminded me there were still people out there waiting. Not too much action in this chapter, as everyone is still recovering from last night. Ah, one more thing, I was trying a slightly different style and the viewpoints will shift more often, please tell me if this works alright or if things become too jumbled and confusing.

Chapter 8:"Tired... They say that the North American countries survived. That's where we are all heading. There is nothing left for us in our homes. The seeds will not grow anymore, and the water... we think something is wrong with the water. But we need to drink, what good would it do if he all died of thirst before we reached the North?...Tired... so very tired..." Voice journal, unknown South American refugee. Final Entry.

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Anderson woke slowly. The fog of sleep clung to him and seemed reluctant to let him go. This was somewhat unusual. The demands of his life as a soldier typically resulted in prompt and alert awakenings. His eyes fought his attempts to open them and the muscles of his body felt like they were made of water. More unusual though, there seemed to be light shining through his eyelids. That couldn't be right, he hadn't been woken up for his patrol shift yet, so it couldn't be daytime.

With a low groan at the exertion, Anderson tried to sit up. That's when he noticed something was pinning his arm down.What the Hell? He looked down expecting to find a misplaced piece of gear, or maybe even a fallen tree branch, but what he found was something quite different.

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Downstairs, Sergeant Scott and his men had been awake for a good few hours. During that time they had been doing their best to tend to their wounded and to get a hold of Division Command. While communications were proving difficult to establish, the wounded soldiers were recovering well and there was little danger of their health deteriorating any further... if they could reach the Bleu lines soon.

Scott looked around at the large central living room he stood in as he waited for his men to complete their duties. The farmhouse had been more of a blessing than he could have hoped for. Not only had they been sheltered from the elements, but they had found drinkable water in a little well behind the main building. Most freshwater sources this close to Paris were toxic due to the radiation contamination and so the well was truly a rare find. Even more important than that though, the upstairs bedrooms had provided him with a chance to keep the two women out of sight.

It did not matter how well trained, how good natured, or how honorable his men were, there was no chance he would allow the two young ladies to sleep in amongst the soldiers. He knew for a fact that most of them had been on deployment for three years now, some even longer than that. The manpower to rotate them out regularly was simply not there. As a result, none of them had even seen a woman, let alone have one sleeping nearby, in years. Even if they resisted the temptation he doubted they would get much restful sleep... not that hey gotten much of that last night... He was going to have a serious word with those two boys.

Just as he thought that, a loud half strangled yelp came from upstairs. It was immediately followed by a thud as something landed on the floor above them, and some unintelligible shouting started. Well... it seemed they were finally awake. The Sergeant ran a hand through his hair and breathed a sigh. If they had just woken up and were already at each others throats, he could not imagine the rest of the day would see any improvement. Tiredly he walked to the stairs and started climbing. It was going to be a long day.

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It. was. not. FUCKING! NATURAL!

Anderson burst into the hallway, his gear haphazardly hanging off of him as he tried to walk and put it on at the same time. The only thing missing was his shirt. He did not even want to remember why it was shredded to pieces. And that was the problem. Everything about last night was just not natural.

They had been fighting nearly since the moment they laid eyes on each other. She did everything in her power to annoy him.... And bloody well succeeded. Hell, they had been arguing right up until that moment. So, how was it that one look into her eyes and "BAM", not only were they not fighting anymore, they were bloody near bringing the house down.

Anderson was at his wit's end. Everything that had happened the past few days was catching up to him. First they got attacked by something that looked like a pack of mutant bulldogs, then he thinks he sees a girl with tail. Next, a young blonde girl comes running out of the woods straight to White, calling him Master and making no sense whatsoever. Then they walk into a military camp full of corpses, only to find the most bloody irritating woman in the world. And finally... finally, she just looks at him and suddenly they are having mind blowing, world shattering sex!

As his fingers fumbled at the clasps of his body armor, Anderson could only think one thing. All the strange happenings the last few days were related to the two girls somehow. They were at the center of something extremely dangerous and utterly incomprehensible. He did not know what it was all about, but he had to tell the Sergeant. If he told him perhaps they could... What?

Anderson paused. What exactly was he going to try to do? They couldn't just leave them here. The very idea twisted at his insides. But something needed to be done. If the current state of affairs continued, the entire squad would end up like Rodriguez and Lee. The fact that they had all survived that ambush in the woods was a miracle unto itself.

As Anderson struggled equally with his gear and inner turmoil, the door of the other bedroom opened. A half asleep Private White stood on the other side. Disheveled was the perfect description for the young scout. His short hair was a mess atop his head, with a seemingly random spike of it sticking up on one side. His fatigues were crumpled and looked like they had been hurriedly been tossed on, while his body armor and the remainder of his equipment were entirely absent.

"...What'd I miss?", asked the soldier as a loud yawn rendered his question nearly unintelligible.

The irritated Corporal didn't have a chance to answer as a thunderous voice came from the stairs.

"You two! Down here! Now!"

They looked over in time to see the back of Sergeant Scott's head as he made his way down to the first floor. White was too sleep addled to think anything of the Sergeant's tone, but Anderson, on the other hand, felt a chill run down his spine and a heaviness settle in his stomach. No matter how you looked at it, they had both just slept with two women that their squad was supposed to be escorting.

His imagination began conjuring up terrifying images... Him and White restrained and walking alongside the two enemy captives.... Standing before a military tribunal as his rank was stripped from him and he was dishonorably discharged... being handed over to the Bleu government for sentencing... Standing on a platform before an angry mob of Frenchmen as his order for execution was read out....

Resigning himself to his imagined fate, Anderson walked behind White with wide eyes and a blank expression.

They followed the Sergeant down the stairs and towards the back of the house, away from the rest of the squad. Scott stopped in front of a shattered window and stood looking out of it for a moment as he allowed the two soldiers to stew. Finally, he turned towards his men .

"So... did you boys sleep well last night?" The Sergeant asked in a dangerously calm voice.

Anderson was unsure if he should answer, but his half asleep comrade did so for him.

"Yesh shur, bed wush really shoft..." He responded as he only half managed to suppress another yawn,

"That's good, that's good.... But the rest of us were having quite some trouble getting to sleep... do you know why that is?"

Neither soldier responded, though in White's case it was likely because he was unable to focus long enough.

"Well you see, There were these two very inconsiderate couples upstairs that just could not stop going at it," The Sergeant gave a dry chuckle.

"Do you boys know HOW GODDAMN IRRITATING IT IS TO HAVE TO LISTEN TO THAT FOR HOURS ON FUCKING END?!"

The Sergeant had dropped his calm demeanor and began giving the two soldiers a piece of his mind. Private White had quickly lost all traces of grogginess and for the next half hour the farmhouse rang with the irate Sergeant's booming voice. Even their fellow scouts, who had been quietly wishing a fate worse than death upon their comrades, began feeling sympathetic to their plight.

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Annabel winced as she heard the warband leader's voice. Though she did feel a bit guilty over her Master's current situation, she could not bring herself to regret the previous night. It had all been so wonderful.... The way her Master's hands ran over her body.... How he seemed to know just the right spots....

Annabel mentally shook herself before she was caught up in the memories. Right now she wanted to talk to her sister. With a bright smile on her face, she began opening the door.... And quickly stopped. A cold wave of apprehension had just rolled over her. Wondering what could have caused such a feeling, she quietly peered in through the small opening she had made. As she caught sight of her sister, she immediately knew its source.

Now, Annabel knew that her sister did not appear to be the most agreeable of people to those around them, but it was just an act. She was really quite kind and her usual demeanor was a necessity of living amongst the demonic classes. When she was truly angry, as she was now... she was absolutely cold.

As her sister had sensed, the normally fiery redhead was indeed in the midst of an ice cold fury. There was however, no outward expression of her anger. Rather, it was the lack of expression that indicated her state. She walked around the room languidly, picking up some of her Master's belongings that had been scattered about in the night. Her features were completely relaxed, her eyes half closed.... One might even say she looked bored... Only her bond-sister knew that this was the same expression she wore in battle...

What really worried Annabel though, was when her sister came to a green piece of fabric that lay on the floor. It was ripped in places and she was unsure as to what it could have been, but her sister had an unusual reaction to it. As she picked it up, a small smile spread across her lips... but the expression did not reach her eyes. They remained as cold and emotionless as before. With the cloth in her hands, she walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down. Her next actions sent a chill down Annabel's spine.

She began quietly singing an old rhyme that Annabel remembered from when they were children. As she continued singing, one of her many hidden blades appeared in her hand. She began slowly sliding it across the green fabric as the rhyme echoed in Annabel's memory.

"Master. Master where are you now? Don't you know its to only you I bow? Wait for me, Wait for me I will find you soon. I ask only for this one little boon... Guide me, Guide me as I run For some day, some day We'll be one..."

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Anderson and White walked up the stairs in silence. After their "talk" with the Sergeant neither one had much to say. For now, they needed to get ready to march again, and that required getting their gear on. Anderson had nearly hit himself when he realized that several items he had thought were securely in their places, were actually missing. He had run out of that room so fast he hadn't noticed their absence. That meant he had to go back in there with that woman..."Seraphina" came a whisper from the back of his mind."That woman" he forcefully thought at himself.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Anderson almost ran into White.

"Why'd you stop?" The Corporal asked

White completely ignored his friend's question and just as Anderson was about to ask again, he spoke.

"Annabel, What's wrong?" The soldier asked in a concerned voice.

Anderson couldn't see around White to determine why he might be worried, but he did wonder at the name he had just used. Didn't he say she was called Anne? He mentally shrugged, she probably just didn't like everyone using that name.

"N-Nothing Master, why would anything be wrong?" came the surprised voice of the young blonde.

"Well you looked like you had seen a ghost."

Annabel gave a light, nervous laugh. "Do not worry Master, there are none here."

"...Okay..." White did not sound fully convinced, even a bit confused, but he let the matter go, They needed to get ready quickly, so he walked to the bedroom where all his equipment still lay. Annabel followed him inside and Anderson was left alone out in the hallway.

Well, he thought,might as well get it over with.

He walked over to the bedroom door and opened. For moment he thought he had heard some kind of music, a strange little song that seemed familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before. As he opened the door, he found Seraphina sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn't notice as her name slipped into his thoughts this time.

"Hey...," he said somewhat gruffly," we'll be heading out here in a..."

Anderson let his sentence fall off as he really looked at her. She didn't look... unusual.... but something had just set his nerves on edge. He could only describe the feeling as if he were sensing the presence of a knife hovering just a few inches away from between his shoulder blades.

Controlling the urge to shiver, he continued on, " We'll be heading out soon, so you should get ready."

"I am always ready to follow you, Master," she responded in a silky smooth voice.

At her the sound of her voice, Anderson's caution ratcheted up a couple notches. After the things they had said to each other... err... shouted at each other after waking up, she should have been a lot more angry.

"Right... well then, I just need to gather up my things, and..."

"They are right here, Master," she interrupted him as she pointed next to herself.

Anderson looked and for the first time noticed that the extra magazines and other odds and ends he been missing were all neatly arranged on the bed.

"Uh, thanks."

"It is my pleasure, Master."

Anderson stood stock still for a moment as he debated whether or not to collect his things. He needed to get ready, but he really did not want to get any closer to the redhead than he already was. The fact that she kept saying Master after every sentence was creeping him out. Not only that, but she had this strange half smile that hadn't let up since he walked into the room. He couldn't say what, but something about that smile chilled him to the bone.

Cautiously, and keeping as much distance between them as possible, he moved over to the bed and began picking up his equipment. He didn't quite know what he expected from her, but she just sat there looking at him and smiling that strange smile. As he secured his gear and some of the cold synthmetal pieces rubbed up against his skin, he realized his torn shirt was nowhere in sight. It was not as if he was going to try to wear what was left of it, but he knew for a fact it should have been laying on the floor near the door. He momentarily considered asking Seraphina if she had seen it, but one look at that unnerving smile and he decided against it.

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"Any response yet?"

"No Sir, I'm getting nothing but static..."

A rumbling noise that sounded similar to a growl came from the Sergeant. Their inability to get in contact with the rest of their division was worrying. They had full satellite coverage, as evidenced by the fact that their SquadNet was operational, so why couldn't they get any comms traffic? The only possibility he could think of was too unnerving to consider for long.

"Sir, should we try raising one of the fleets? Or maybe even Continental HQ?" Carlos quietly asked, thinking the same thing as the Sergeant.

"Negative. At this point Continental is pretty much just another part of Division. If we can't raise one, we sure as hell can't raise the other. As for the fleets.... The days when any of their boys were willing to get their feet dry are long past..." The Sergeant said bitterly.

He alluded to the fact that the NAU Naval Forces viewed land combat as "beneath them". The reality was that the Admirals had grown fat and complacent without any formidable opponent on the seas. The only time they saw any danger of being replaced or reprimanded was when they mucked up land operations, so now they did everything in their power to avoid such responsibilities.

"What should we do then Sir?"

"Follow protocol and march to the Bleu lines," more of the same bitterness sounded in the Sergeant's voice.

"...Yes Sir."

Sergeant Scott turned around and walked through the doorway into the central living room where his men waited for him. The only ones missing were the men out on perimeter patrol. They had spent so much time with the wounded and comms systems that they wouldn't be able to march nearly as long as he liked before the sun set. But he sure as hell didn't want to spend another day in the same place with such a significant enemy presence nearby.

"All right boys, lets get moving,"

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Private White kept his eyes pointing straight forward and tried not to let on how nervous he was. Between the Sergeant chewing them out and preparing to continue marching, he hadn't really had time to think about last night, but now... that'sall he could think about. Every detail, every sensation, was played on a constant loop through his memory. The harder he tried to block out those thoughts, the more incessantly they would call for his attention. And it did not help his nervousness that his squad mates would occasionally shoot him both looks of envy and congratulatory grins. He was thankful for their need to maintain silence, as he knew that was all that was keeping his friends at bay.

He had other, more worrying matters to consider though. Specifically, what was he to do about Annabel? Since the girls were found on French soil, the Bleu's would definitely try to claim them. They would take her away from him... Put her on one of those damned "Match Making" programs and secretly sell her off to the richest fat fuck of a politician that wanted her.... Fuck that! He would put a bullet in the head of any filthy fucking son of a bitch that even thought about laying a finger on her, even if he had to kill every goddamn...

A small hand lightly grasped the soldier's own, diverting his attention. Surprised, White looked to see who it was and found Annabel looking up at him, eyes filled with concern. For a moment the soldier was afraid that she had somehow read his mind, but quickly tossed out the silly notion. He must have just let his anger show somehow. Smiling weakly, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and turned back to look where they were going.

The Private had only been half right though. Annabel might not have known exactly what her Master had been thinking, but she had sensed the sudden surge of anger building inside him. She felt that it was related to her somehow. It was not directed at her... but it felt.... Ahhh, she could not pin it down. It had felt as if a river of fire had momentarily surrounded her. She did not fear it, but it almost seemed as if it were meant to protect her? It troubled her that she could not more accurately gauge her Master's intent without need of her techniques. She supposed such understanding would come with time and familiarity, but would he tolerate her presence if she could not prove herself useful more quickly? No, it did not matter. From what she knew of her Master, he was infinitely kind and full of patience. He would not turn her away.

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