Chapter Eight: Journey's Start

The night passed, and we rose before dawn on Monday. After washing, eating, and the rest, we loaded the last few items into my Sienna, straightened the cabin, and departed with the arriving sun.

We were close enough to the Needles Highway that it was the most sensible route on the way to Hot Springs, though I think it was supposed to be closed. It was slushy and twisty, but there was no traffic. We took it slow and finally came out in Custer Park. I wanted one last look in hopes of seeing the bison on the wildlife loop. We were not disappointed, though I really had expected them to be sheltering in the canyons. We all leaked tears as we drove away.

We picked up Highway 385 and traveled into Hot Springs. During the whole trip, we saw no vehicles and few tire tracks.

Approaching one house along the highway, we saw smoke from a chimney. I had my ladies wait beside the van to back me up and knocked on the door. A bent old woman answered the door. When I introduced myself and explained my mission, she invited us in and gave us coffee.

"Son, this is my home, and I have no intention of leaving. My family is buried here, and I plan to be, too. I have terminal cancer, and I'm past menopause, so the Confederacy doesn't want me. If those Swarm things want my house, they are going to pay a dear price."

She explained, "My grandson is in construction. He had enough dynamite in my shed to blow at least a fifty-foot crater. I had him bring it into the house and rig a detonator. If I die, electronics arm the detonator, and if the house is disturbed, the dynamite exacts my price."

Holding up her hands to forestall interruption, she went on. "Today, I'll be putting up signs all around the outside of the house explaining what I've done and how to disarm the detonator. I wouldn't want an innocent to be killed. Anyone stupid enough not to believe the signs, that's another matter entirely.

"AND the Swarm things can't read English," she gloated.

We thanked her for the coffee, and each of us kissed her cheek. Then we moved on. That was going to be an interesting tidbit to report to the marshal during my next call.

As we entered Hot Springs, we looked up the hill to the VA hospital and decided it would be our first stop. I had always loved the pink stone construction used on the hospital and much of the town down along the river.

As we pulled up, the silence and stillness were almost overwhelming. A young captain, dressed in Vietnam era fatigues with a name tag reading 'Johnson,' looked up as we entered the lobby. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Maybe," I answered and explained our mission.

"Well, depending on your point of view, you're too early or too late. I'm rear and advance guard for a Confederacy operation run by a fella named Matthews. We were waiting for evacuation, and yesterday, he showed up here with boat load of medical types and a squad of Confederacy marines. They met with staff, then wheeled every possible vet into the mess hall and made them offers that not one of them refused. I know. I was one of them.

"This was the deal he offered. Any vet who volunteered would be transported to a Confederacy base where he or she would be brought back to health, limbs restored, or whatever was needed. If they had a CAP score high enough, they could be extracted or could be considered for concubines, if not and that was their wish. Or, they could join the EDF and help defend the Earth. The entire VA staff was also included in the deal. Everybody went.

"I was one of the first through the med tubes, and they sent me back to warn off folks who might want to abuse this facility. The EDF wants to be able to use it for staging if the need occurs. As you can see, my CAP wasn't high enough to be extracted - I'm not sure I would have gone anyway - but no matter, it feels great to be able to defend my country again."

"Do you know what's happening in town?" I asked.

Captain Johnson responded, "Not much. A lot of people were already gone when Matthews arrived. There were a few Confederacy extractions, and those folks that remain are not exactly the top ornaments on the Christmas tree. That's why I'm here."

We thanked him and departed. Driving into town, we could see that the evacuation had been reasonably orderly. There were a few broken windows and some signs of looting, but not much.

We parked the Sienna and were walking along checking for stragglers, when we were fired on by someone on a rooftop across the street. That was Cathleen's side, and her three-round burst brought a scream and the clatter of a weapon falling to the street.

The fallen rifle had been ruined by the fall, so we stripped it of ammo and threw it in the river. We held a powwow, and I opined that urban fighting wasn't in our charter. "I think we at least sent a message that ambush is not automatically successful." I said. "I don't really care if that thug bleeds to death or lives to tell his sad tale. It's time to move on."

Cathleen, my lady the nurse, disagreed. So we entered the building and climbed to the roof. Our would-be assassin lay on his back, watching us. There wasn't a lot of blood, but it was evident that he was seriously wounded. Cathleen opened his shirt and looked him over. She shook her head and told him, "I'm a nurse. You need to know that you aren't going to die in the next few hours, but you are seriously wounded, and without medical attention I don't have, you _are_ going to die."

She paused, then continued. "I seriously doubt there is anyone around who could or even would get you to a hospital, and I don't believe in killing a helpless human, no matter how worthless. So, here's the deal. I'm leaving your pistol with one round in it and your canteen of water. You can wait as long as you care to for help. It is likely to be a lonely and painful wait, even if help comes."

I stepped over and added, "And let me assure you, if you chose to use your only bullet to shoot at one of us, I will shoot both your kneecaps and won't replace your bullet."

I turned to my lovelies and motioned back to the stairs. "Now, it's time to go."

My ladies agreed, and we descended to the street, saddled up, and headed out of town on 385.

When we saw the Dairy Queen on the edge of town, lights still on, we decided we were hungry. On the door was a sign that said "Hungry? Fix it yourself and it is free. Just clean up and leave something for your brothers and sisters. Thank you for your business. The management."

The refrigerators, freezers, and stoves were still powered and working. I got some burgers on, and Rachel sliced tomatoes and assembled other additions for the meal. It was a nice chance for a reasonably normal meal.

While we were eating, I called Marshal Pope for our morning update. It was a little late, but I wasn't particularly concerned, because I felt complete was better than timely. At least in this case, the marshal agreed.

I briefed him on our recent activities, and he concurred with our conclusions and decision to head on south. We cleaned up, grabbed a Dilly-Bar apiece, and left for Chadron.

Just for the heck of it, I decided to pull into what had been the old _Maverick Junction Truck Stop_ located where 385 turned south. No one was there, but the pumps were in operation. I didn't even need to use a credit card when I filled up. So in Hot Springs alone - three 'attaboys' and one 'ohshit' - not bad in a crisis. Kinda restores your faith in humanity... .

As I expected, there were more signs of traffic as we drove south. We saw no moving vehicles, but someone had run a snowplow down one south-bound lane, and there were tracks. Still, it's a pretty dull drive, with cows in the field, one small 'town', and few other buildings. As predicted, accumulated snow had tapered off. When we hit the Nebraska border, the casino parking lot was empty. That was a first for me.

We picked up Highway 20 just outside of Chadron, and I ducked north to look at the municipal airport. There was a military presence, including four A10 Warthogs parked near the terminal building, so I heeded Marshal Pope's instructions and avoided them.

As we entered Chadron, we saw the Wal-Mart on the right, up the hill, so we went in to check it out. It was deserted, and the doors were unlocked. Most of the canned foods, camping gear, and other items useful when traveling or camping were gone. So were the weapons. All to be expected, given the situation. I had hoped to find some analgesics stronger than aspirin or ibuprofen, but aside from a large bottle of ibuprofen abandoned on the floor, there was nothing useful.

We drove across on 10th Street but saw no one until we reached the college. In front of the main residence complex was an old Volvo station wagon with two young men loading boxes. We pulled in and stopped. Jaws dropped when my ladies got out and approached them.

The two introduced themselves as Ron and Steve, students who were making their last preparations to leave. The Confederacy had staged a pickup on campus the previous night, but the two had CAPs too low to be extracted. They had declined the offer to join the EDF and were in the last stages of heading east towards home in O'Neil. I told them of the staging area in Valentine and warned them about folks posing as peace officers.

After leaving the students, we drove around town, but saw no one. It was a very eerie experience. Rachel suggested that we only stop at houses with cars in front on the theory that the others had most likely departed. Even so, we encountered no one else.

The Arby's Restaurant offered an experience similar to Hot Springs' Dairy Queen, and after eating, we found an empty room in the Best Western and settled in for the night. Let me tell you, a hot shower and a king bed were gifts from the gods.

We played and sexed and cuddled for a couple of hours before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Tuesday morning, we showered again, and at the Village Inn next door, we fixed ourselves breakfast and some sandwiches to carry with us. We were about to head out when the power went out. It had been good while it lasted. Who knew when we'd see a hot shower or a civilized meal again?

That morning we checked Ace Hardware's gun store, but found it bare of anything useful. I did pickup a nice pair of wire cutters should we need to cross open country. Between Safeway's pharmacy and Peterson's Drugs, we managed to score some Tylenol with codeine and sterile bandages that had somehow been overlooked. I also added several packages of dried soup and beef jerky. Then we were off.

As we headed out on Highway 20, Rachel looked back and noticed a pawn shop on the edge of town. On a hunch, we stopped, went in, and found it abandoned like the rest of the town. There were several empty gun racks, but the shop looked otherwise undisturbed.

I walked over to the glass cases near the cash register, and wonder of wonders, there were several pistols, including a Glock, the same caliber as my two. Looking further, I found five empty magazines in an open box under the counter. That caused me to look even deeper, and I found several boxes of ammo.

With three of us, I had thought it would be wise to carry weapons that used the same caliber; that way we could share in case of need. Cathleen's .22 magnum was nice, and she was familiar with its characteristics, but if we went afoot, that would likely be the gun abandoned.

I noticed two old knives, much like Bowie knives, together with scabbards. They looked very serviceable, but in need of sharpening. I requisitioned them along with a whetstone, intending to sharpen them in the evening before sleep.

With the power loss, I almost decided to turn off my cell phone to conserve the battery, but when we reentered the van, I just plugged into the car charger as we drove out of town. Good that I did, because it rang just as we approached the Museum of the Fur Trade. I had planned to stop there, so I pulled off and punched my Bluetooth to answer.

Marshal Pope started in immediately with no greeting. "Listen up! There's been a new development. The Swarm have figured out that cars and trucks are transporting humans, even if they are not threatening. Basically, they are treating civilian vehicles as Spam-on-wheels. You'd think that they were playing some kind of game, because they peel open a car and eat, even when there are cattle and bison nearby.

"So guys, my recommendation is to ditch your car and walk. I also think it would be wise to stay off roads if you can. Above all, stay the hell away from any Sa'arm you might see. You aren't going to be a match for any Sa'arm, no matter how good you are."

Oh well.

He offered us one advantage; the Air Force was trying to engage the Sa'arm where they found them and was also keeping him informed of radar contacts with Sa'arm sorties, so he could give us some warning as long as we had cell phone coverage. If the cloud cover permitted, he would also give me GPS coordinates for houses and locations he wanted us to check on. That would save us a lot of walking.

I remembered earlier visits to the museum. It had just about every weapon and artifact imaginable from the early French explorers through the aftermath of the War of Northern Aggression (Southern Boy - remember ... .)

We went inside to see if there might be anything useable for a cross country trek, but amazingly, the building was empty. We later found out that an extraction team, like that formerly headed by a Lieutenant T. E. Lawrence, had identified the museum as desirable to retain our culture. Because of the anticipated Sa'arm advance, the exhibits were removed rather than simply scanned. Things were moving fast. Very good. Very good, indeed.

Well, it was time to say goodbye to my Sienna - sooner than I thought or hoped. We unloaded it into the museum so we could sort through our travel equipment one more time. It was our last chance to get it right, and that might mean survival or not.

We emptied out packs and spread the contents into three stacks. We carefully assured that we had multiple changes of socks and underwear and two changes of outerwear. Every pack had the essentials needed for survival if we were separated.

The hardest part was giving up Dad's guns and other duplicate items that had strong sentimental attachment. There was also Dad's strong box with close to three pounds in gold coins - over fifty thousand dollars by weight alone - and silver coins. I buried the box with his papers, but had little hope of ever seeing it again. I divided the gold and silver between the three packs. The money took up relatively little space, and there might be a time it would be needed.

In addition to the packs with essentials, we each carried a small add-on pack of nice-to-have items that could easily be abandoned if the burden became too heavy. Cathleen's .22 magnum and two boxes of ammo went into her extra pack. Mom's thirty thousand dollars in paper money went in these add-ons and would be spent first - if we could - before inflation made it worthless.

My ladies were each armed with the M-16s, and I carried the M-14 - not my favorite weapon, but it gave our team both firepower and somewhat more range than the M-16s. I had my old iRiver MP3 player with a 40 gig hard drive. More importantly for the present, it had an FM tuner. I put in one earbud so I could monitor for emergency broadcasts and updates. My solar charger rode on top of my backpack.

It was now late morning, so we ate our sandwiches before heading out. Knowing we were in for several days of steady walking, I began a routine of popping three ibuprophen every four hours to get ahead of the pain and inflammation that was surely headed for my knee.

Cathleen took the lead, Rachel followed, and I was tail-end-Charlie. I was complaining to myself that my ladies' parkas covered their well shaped bubble butts. Here I was, strategically placed to admire a view, but it was hidden.

We passed a flock of wild turkeys on the north side of the highway just past a sign that read 'Half Ass Ranch.' It looked like they were feeding in corn fields that had been harvested in the fall.

Suddenly, Cathleen raised her hand and signaled a halt.

Rachel and I took up positions that enabled us to better cover her, and she slowly advanced down the road towards a red car skewed off to the right. When she was next to the vehicle she signaled us to come ahead, and we found her next to the Volvo station wagon we had last seen in front of the residence hall. The roof had been peeled back and blood and shattered glass were everywhere in the front seat. There was no other sign of Ron and Steve, the two students.

I called Marshal Pope and reported our find. "Marshal, it appears that your warning saved our lives. I'm going to upload a picture. Without seeing it, there just isn't a way imagination would do justice. I haven't heard anything on the radio about this development. It would be a good idea to get the news out, pronto."

The marshal agreed, then told us, "The sheriff in Valentine is Rusty Naile. No shit, N-A-I-L-E. I'll call and alert him on this development - that at least some Swarm are likely heading in his direction, and that you are on the way. I'll text you his cell number so you can keep him informed as well as me. You will probably be the only law between Chadron and Valentine."

Then he was gone, and minutes later, my phone had an incoming text with Sheriff Naile's contact information.

After a few more minutes to reflect on Ron and Steve, we continued on.

My typical walking speed is about four miles per hour. With her shorter legs, I judged that might push Cathleen unnecessarily. That was one of the reasons for having her in the lead. We could determine the most comfortable pace for all of us, and a somewhat reduced pace would also help my knee over time. Without any detours, we had roughly one hundred and thirty miles until we reached Valentine.

I wanted to follow the marshal's advice and get off the highway. I knew that the 'Cowboy Trail' was on an old abandoned rail right-of-way that ran roughly along Highway 20. Most of the rails had been removed some years ago, and some of the trail was improved with crushed gravel. It didn't take long to find it, and though the portion leading from Chadron wasn't improved, we were shortly moving at a reasonable pace.

We took hourly breaks and managed to make a little over twelve miles before calling a longer halt. We had checked on several ranches and farms, but found them abandoned, with the gates and doors to many outbuildings open so that livestock could roam free. Most had signs on the front door stating that the house had been abandoned and visitors were welcome to shelter and food. In those cases, power and heat were still on. Power? Who knew why one place and not another.

While we continued to walk spread out, we were close enough talk, and Rachel proposed a contest. Winner to determine positions for sex that night.

We had determined that all three of us were voracious readers - so she proposed a reading trivia game. "It" would give a short synopsis of a book. To win a point, both the title and author had to be given. If no one could guess, "It" would get the point. A bonus point would be given if the main character was named.

Rachel started. "Historical Novel. Colonial Virginia. Tobacco farmer buys a reluctant bride ... ."

Cathleen, "To Have And To Hold."

Me, "Mary Johnston."

Cathleen, "Ralph Percy."

Me, "Jocelyn Leigh."

Rachel, "Shit!"

And so it went. Science Fiction. Historical. Modern. Fantasy. Crime. Mystery. Espionage. If one of us had read it, so had at least one other - usually both. We laughed and joked as we walked, then went almost hysterical when we found ourselves virtually ignorant of anything on television in the past fifteen years. Damn, we were well matched.

Not wanting to be caught in the dark without shelter, we stopped at an abandoned ranch house well before dark. Unused to walking with full packs, we were pretty much done in.

In the kitchen, we found a dated note stating that there was a pot of beef stew in the fridge, freshly made on Friday. Please eat our fill. We heated stew and some crescent rolls, also from the fridge, and made pigs of ourselves.

We watched the news on satellite TV. Talking heads did their usual speculating to fill time, but there was little useful information, though the anchor made the point that it was clearly time for folks in this area to get the hell out of Dodge. There were several pictures of Sa'arm destroyed vehicles, including the picture I had forwarded to Marshal Pope. These photos were accompanied with cautions to avoid vehicle travel in areas near known Sa'arm concentrations and movements.

The move to the bedroom came early. Rachel having won the literary contest by the narrowest of margins, went first and chose reverse cowgirl as her initial position. I thought her enthusiasm was going to leave me too drained for Cathleen, but after a brief rest, the sight of Cathleen strutting naked and alabaster white proved me highly mistaken. I'm telling you, these two women KNEW how to rev my engine!

Once the edge was off, the three of us moved to the large ensuite shower and spent all the hot water playing and washing each other. My ladies showed no hesitation to touch or even wash each other along with me, but there was still no sign of erotic attraction between them.

It was still early, so I gave each of my ladies a long massage. I loved the feel of their skin, the play of their malleable bits, the tension of their muscles, and the smell of their arousal. I thought that would be all, but they had other ideas. I found myself face down, with Cathleen astride my butt, working my back muscles, and Rachel sitting on my feet working up and down my legs.

Two naked pussies rubbing on my body kindled a new raging fire in my furnace.

I growled and struggled to turn over. Two laughing devils resisted. Then with a sudden release, I found myself on my back with a red headed imp sheathed on my spike. I let her work the system while I played with her lovely breasts. Soon, I was sucking one nipple and then the other. She gasped, whined, moaned, and pressed her breasts to my lips while trying to maintain traction for her main event.

I lightly nipped (there again) her nipple, and she fired off three quick orgasms. I grabbed her hips and began to ride for glory. She wailed a steady stream, then froze and collapsed on my chest.

Rachel gave her a few minutes, then tapped her shoulder. "I'm cutting in. It's my turn to dance with him."

Cathleen smiled, rolled to my side, and snuggled up.

Almost sated from her earlier wild ride, Rachel wanted my cock inside her for a gentle, loving rock and roll. We turned to face each other, Cathleen spooned to my back, and we inserted tab A into slot B to accomplish her wish. After an extended time, we both ramped up to a happy cum, and all three of us drifted off to sleep.

Wednesday. My, it was a fine thing waking up in the morning with these two. We each did our morning necessaries, then hopped in the shower together for a quick rinse of residual body fluids. By that time coffee was ready, and we adjourned to the kitchen for breakfast.

We cleaned up after ourselves and hit the road, starting our game anew. Our pace was a little slower until we warmed up, and I was beginning to hate the unimproved trail.

Hay Springs, a village of just under six hundred, was our next way point and the next place trouble found us. We entered town on the Cowboy Trail, and when we saw the sign for the Bar J Steakhouse, we turned onto Main Street looking for a possible lunch.

Trouble, wearing jeans and carrying a rifle stepped from the restaurant's door. "Stop. No guns allowed in city limits. I'm Marshal Thom ... ."

Bang. A bullet hole appeared in his forehead, and the fake lawman jerked and slumped to the ground.

"No blue bandana, not the real deal. I got it." said Rachel in a cold, calm voice.

Once again, Marshal Pope had saved our lives.

Inside the restaurant was chaos. Tables were piled with valuables - jewelry, money, electronics - and weapons. In back of the building, we found seven bodies, all with bound hands and bullet wounds to the head.

We went up and down the streets of the village entering houses. In several, we found bodies - men, women, and children - all shot. There was no way we could determine how so many could be killed without alerting the others. Both my ladies cried over the children. So did I.

We lacked the time and resources to bury them all, so we prayed they had found peace, said our farewells, and shut the doors to their homes.

Returning to the Bar J, we hauled the fake marshal around back. I checked for a wallet and found one with identification for a Ronald H. Thomas. We placed him with the other bodies - again not much else we could do.

Inside, we quickly cooked up a lunch from supplies in the fridge, ate silently, and departed.

As we walked, I called Marshal Pope with our morning update. He promised to send in a team to identify and bury the victims. While he had nothing to offer on Thomas, he did offer an insight on the Sa'arm moving eastward. "I've been briefed by the Air Force. We know that the Sa'arm throw a heavy reaction whenever one of their units is attacked and overwhelmed. The Air Force is positioning echelons of enhanced fighter planes all the way back to Offutt Air Force Base near Omaha.

"The idea is to trick them into using up their resources before they have time and resources to acquire more. When Sa'arm are seen, they will be met with just enough of our fighters to destroy it. The expectation is that the Sa'arm will react with a larger number, only to be met by an increased response from us."

He laughed. "They've moved replicator's to the Air Force's Bone Yard near Tucson. In go the old war birds with exactly the right materials, and out pop perfect new planes with some added Confederacy technology. They've been doing that in secret for a couple of years now. We should be able to out produce the Sa'arm, and the pilot shortage is being addressed by that fellow Matthews' recruiting veterans from VA hospitals and nursing homes. Add TV recruiting ads, and the old flyboys are chomping at the bit to get back in the air.

"You saw evidence of that in the empty VA hospital back in Hot Springs. The hotshot pilots with new reflexes are getting warmed up by ferrying their birds across and up from Tucson. You should expect to see some in the air soon."

He turned positively gleeful. "Our birds do have transporters. Some genius figured out a way to mount one just inside the canopy, so the pilot has a choice of ejecting through the transporter or the traditional way through the canopy opening. The aircraft are equipped with self-destruct mechanisms to keep the Sa'arm from analyzing our technology. The pilot's ejection triggers nanites to eat those planes.

"The transporters dump the pilots into the air over the Bone Yard so they can lose their speed. Down to the ground, a little R&R, and they pickup another bird to ferry back to the fight. Genius, I tell you!" Pope was clearly enjoying his narrative.

"All that said, I need to add another element to your mission. Even these isolated Sa'arm have pretty darned effective weapons. If you see one of our pilots go down, we need you to check it out. I may even be able to provide co-ordinates if needed. With a trauma nurse in your cadre, you might provide needed medical attention or other assistance. The pilots have nanites, but that may not be enough."

"Damn, Marshal!" I replied. "I'm not sure we are capable of miracle healing."

Cathleen giggled, then turned somber as she remembered the dead we had recently left behind.

The overcast and chilly weather matched our mood as we resumed our trek towards Valentine. As we walked, Cathleen began to hum softly, and as she caught the tune, Rachel began to sing. In seconds, we joined her in "Amazing Grace," followed by several other hymns. Both of my ladies sang like professionals, and I harmonized as best I could.

After a while, the mood lightened. The companionship was exceptional, and it was so very clear that we had a worthy mission and the competence to deliver.

It was something around ten miles to the next town, and we decided we could get there enough before dark if we moved along. Having discovered our mutual love of music, we sang most of the rest of the afternoon. Like with books, we found an amazing number of songs that we all knew and liked.

We checked the occasional house, but all were abandoned, and we reached Rushville something over an hour before dusk. Walking in on Highway 20, we made a random search and found the town empty of people. There was a choice of motels - the Antler and the Nebraskaland - and after fixing a steak and trimmings from the kitchen of the Fireside Inn, we chose the Nebraskaland.

We showered and went to bed early. Tired to the bone, we crashed in one of our two most popular configurations - spooned on our sides with Cathleen sandwiched between me and Rachel.

Thursday dawned another dreary morning. After eating at the Fireside, we started out again. And so it went, on towards Gordon and then Merriman. We checked a few houses, but with the continuing overcast, Marshal Pope had no assignments for us. We encountered no one, and thankfully, no bodies.

The sky cleared somewhat, and we were startled to hear the roar of jets. Several flights streaked over us, heading back our path. Soon, off to the northwest, we could see columns of smoke and heard distant explosions. '''I had expected to see Warthogs, but it was interesting that the Air Force contingent also contained what appeared to be both Tomcats and Falcons. I thought for a minute, then speculated that the rejuvenated veterans had been assigned to the enhanced older birds that they had flown while on active duty.

We saw no downed American fighters, and heard nothing from Marshal Pope, so we pressed on.

Twice, we stopped and spent the night at an abandoned home, both with a welcome note tacked to the door. We had fallen into the habit of making sandwiches to take for lunch, and frequently found goodies to include as well. That wasn't going to last much longer, as bread was getting stale, so we began to take along canned chili, beef stew, veggies, and the like so we could save our trail foods for emergencies. Replenishing every night meant we weren't over burdened with the weight.

In a freezer in the Merriman house where we overnighted, we found a six pound boneless rib eye roast. On a whim, I grabbed it, added some spices, potatoes, carrots, and aluminum foil, and placed it on top of my pack. I figure that it would defrost slowly in the current cold weather, but would also keep for a while.

On the way out of Merriman, we found another booby trapped home, clearly marked with signs and notes. The owner had been a little more creative than our lady back in Hot Springs. Apparently, he or she was aware of the Swarm's tactic of mobbing the spot that a Sa'arm was attacked. A shotgun rigged to fire through the front door was to be followed by a five minute delayed dynamite explosion. All this was explained by notes posted around the property.

Weather forecasts on our cell phones had been somewhat iffy the last few days. Sunday afternoon, we were several miles past Merriman when a sudden, unexpected rain and sleet storm caught us with only an abandoned cement block building near. We were grateful for a roof and walls, so we made the most of what little the building had to offer.

It was gloomy inside, but we hunkered down around a camp fire built from the waste wood we found, and for the afternoon, there was sufficient light. I checked in with the marshal. He was interested in the fact that we hadn't encountered anyone since leaving Hay Springs, but predicted that we would start meeting folks who felt the distance from the Sa'arm gave them a little more time to gather belongings before departure.

Then he laid another task on us. "I figure you have one or two more days of walking until you reach Nenzel. We haven't had any recent contact from there, so it's likely deserted, too. Not surprising, hardly anyone lives there. On the other hand, we do know that power and communications are still functioning.

"By contrast, Sheriff Naile in Valentine reports that there is a dead spot of about five miles in diameter starting shortly after you leave Nenzel. Both land line and cell communications went out two days ago. There are two cell towers that appear to be out of service and at least one landline nexus." He paused for breath, then continued.

"Until your call on Thursday, we haven't had any reported Sa'arm sightings east of Hay Springs, so the local providers sent out a repair truck to see what's what with the silent facilities. After one check-in, nothing has been heard from the crew. Naile also says that several families and individuals who were expected in Valentine haven't shown up or been heard from.

"I've told Naile about you, and he now has your cell number," he said. "Naile is requesting that you do some detailed scouting once you pass Nenzel. He is highly suspicious of the outages combined with missing people. I suggest that you contact him when the weather lets up and you start out, then call him at least hourly so that you don't walk out of cell phone range. You guys are doing good for us, be even more careful from here on out." Then he signed off.

I took the time to call Naile, introduced myself and my ladies, and signed off.

It was still relatively early, and I decided that we could slow cook the roast and vegetables wrapped in foil. I got that prepped and cooking. Then we cuddled together around the fire and watched movies on my iPad. We wanted something light and funny, so the playbill was a couple of feature cartoons.

Dinner was wonderful, as was the company. The rain and sleet had given up, so we had hopes for an early start in the morning. Breakfast would be the leftovers from dinner. I was beginning to miss bacon and eggs already.

We were all horny and lovey. There was lots of time, so we laid out our sleeping bags, sat on them with our backs propped against the wreck of a cabinet - Rachel under my right arm, Cathleen under my left. I alternately claimed kisses from each of them, beginning with light pecks and nibbles. As I turned from one to the other, the losing lady would begin pecking and nibbling on my neck and ears. It was a pretty good turn-on for all of us.

As things heated up, Rachel volunteered, "It's Cathleen turn to go first," and Cathleen started to peel. Even with the fire, there was some chill in our shelter, so Cathleen wasn't looking for a lengthy build up. She made it to bare bottom in record time, leaving her flannel shirt open so I could access her bare titties.

I scootched down and put my head on Rachel's leg. This was our first time on the hard ground, so working out a comfortable position took a minute or two. Then Cathleen pulled off my jeans and plunged down on my rampant cock. Lordy, she was wet! Riding cowgirl for all she was worth, she came quickly, then rode through it. She began chanting, "Baby, baby, baby. Give me a baby! I want your baby. Baby, baby, baby!" The last was a wail as she exploded with a massive orgasm, triggering a joyful gift from me.

Rachel reached out and held her in place to keep her from falling. "Where did that come from?" she asked.

"I dunno," Cathleen replied. "It suddenly hit me that I had a family, and someday I could have children with the man I love. I know we have to wait, but what a turn on."

Not having a wet cloth, Rachel smiled and handed her some tissues to clean up.

Cathleen pulled a sleeping bag over herself and sighed contentedly.

Rachel removed her vest, shirt, and pants - leaving her camisole and panties. She moved over me and then snuggled down between me and her sister. I turned to my side and she did as well, spooning her back to Cathleen and placing her head on my left shoulder.

"So Mister, did you save anything for me? Mmmmm?" She reached down and gently fondled my penis and balls. "You're all sticky. Maybe I should fix it." And she dove down and sucked my slowly stiffening cock, licking along the way. Not so slowly stiffening anymore. Cathleen backed off to give her room.

I was surprised and elated, as this was Rachel's first time giving me head. Lick, suck, gum - repeat. This was getting better all the time, though I really had no urge to cum - I wanted my wigglers in Rachel's pussy.

After some time playing with her toy, Rachel slid back up to kiss me and resumed her former position. While kissing me, she began to rub her pussy back and forth along my shaft. The region was getting hotter and wetter and slicker, and we were both panting. Slowly, Rachel reached down, took my cock, swiped it up and down her cunt, then notched it into the right place. I pushed and sank into her heavenly grasp.

My loving with Cathleen took the edge from my lust, so I was ready to follow Rachel wherever she wanted to lead. That night, she wanted a slow walk down a quiet garden path. This loving was gentle; the two of us pushing and pulling with a steady friction, then frequent pauses while we nuzzled and kissed, only to resume. I lost awareness of time. When we came, it wasn't together and was almost anti-climatic (pun intended.) But it was oh so sweet. We pulled the sleeping bags over the three of us and drifted off to sleep with me still inside Rachel.