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Message-ID: <27757asstr$976183807@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Al Steiner" <steiner_al@hotmail.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 07 Dec 2000 00:12:15 EST
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Aftermath by Al Steiner - Ch 7 (MMF, reluct) 1/2
Date: Thu,  7 Dec 2000 05:10:07 -0500
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

AFTERMATH
By Al Steiner
Send comments to steiner_al@hotmail.com
Previous chapters can be found at www.storiesonline.net




CHAPTER 7






Just across the road from the main gate of the Garden Hill subdivision was
the hilly, wooded area where the community gathered most of its firewood.
Many of the trees here had been knocked down by the high winds that had
occurred the first few days after the impact.  Every day a work crew of five
or six people, mostly women but always with an armed man to guard them,
spent a few hours hacking away at these trees with chainsaws and axes.
Though the women had protested vehemently at first that such a thing was
"man's work", they quickly warmed to the idea when it was realized that the
average shift of a wood gatherer was only about three hours in length.

About an hour after the meeting in the community center broke up, while
Brett was marching from guard post to guard post to check on the state of
his people, this day's crew was in full operation.  A Dodge Ram pickup that
had once belonged to Brenda's husband was parked with it's nose facing back
towards the gate and chunks of pine were being loaded into the back of it,
piece by piece after they were cut.  There were five women today pulling the
duty, all of them town women, and one man, who sat behind the truck and kept
an eye on things.  Jessica was also out there, a rare appearance since she
made it a point to never venture outside the walls.

She was talking to the three women who were carrying the chunks of wood from
the pile to the truck, following them from one place to the other but not
offering to don a pair of work gloves and lend a hand.  "I'm telling you,"
she told them, "that hussy actually ADMITTED that she was having sex with
that poor boy.  She confessed it to us right there in the meeting.  Can you
believe that?"

They could believe it.  "I TOLD you," one of the women said knowingly to a
companion.  "That little bitch is shameless.  Absolutely shameless."

The companion shook her head sadly (although secretly wondering just what it
would be like to have sex with a fourteen-year-old).  "I knew she was a
slut," she said as if in disgust.  "But I didn't think ANYONE was that
slutty.  Shocking."

There were some more comments tossed back and forth between the four of
them, all of them disapproving at what Stacy had done.  The word "bitch",
"slut", "hussy", and even that most hated word among those of the female
species: "cunt" were used with increasing frequency.  Finally Candice, or
Candy as she was known, broached the subject that Jessica had really wanted
addressed.

"So what are we going to do with her?" she asked.  "Is she going to be
banished?"

"I would certainly hope so," one of the others put in.  The rest then echoed
this sentiment.

"She will not be banished, or even punished for that matter," Jessica said
sadly, shaking her head as if a great travesty of justice was taking place.

"She won't?" they cried.  "What do you mean?"

"Paul won't vote to expel her," she said.  "I tried and I tried to get him
to see reason but he just won't do it.  I tried to explain to him that this
was a CRIME.  That it was RAPE.  He just kept saying that he didn't see
anything wrong with it and that he wasn't going to do anything about it."

"Unbelievable," Candy said.  The rest of the group agreed with her.

"He's been influenced by Brett too much," Jessica told them.  "I'm telling
you, Paul does whatever Brett tells him to do and votes however Brett wants
him to vote.  Brett may as well be the one who is on the committee, that's
how much influence he has over him.  So anyway, Paul kept us from being able
to exile that bimbo like we all know she should be, and now she's going to
walk away Scott free and be allowed to just keep molesting him all she
wants."

This declaration caused a fresh outburst of anger.  "Do you mean that
nothing is going to be done about it?" someone asked.  "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing," Jessica confirmed.  "There's nothing that we can do.  We can't
very well put her on kitchen duty, can we?  Of course I moved that we at
least order her to stay away from him."

"I would hope SO," Candy said righteously.

"And of course Dale and I both voted yes, which means that she has a
committee order telling her to stay away from that young man.  But she told
us herself that she won't do it and there's nothing we can do to stop her.
Paul said he won't vote to exile her no matter what and there isn't anything
else we can do to her for punishment.  Not that anything less than exile
would be acceptable anyway."

"So you can't do anything about it?" the woman next to Candy asked as she
dropped a log into the truck.  "We just have to put up with her doing...
doing that to him?"

"It looks that way," Jessica agreed sadly.  "Unless...."

"Unless what?" they all wanted to know.

"Well this is just an idea," she said mysteriously, as if it wasn't
something really worth mentioning.

"What?" they all demanded of her.

"Well," she said, speaking slowly as if this was just occurring to her that
moment.  "It seems to me that the will of the community should take
precedence over a committee meeting, shouldn't it?  I mean, that's how Brett
and his friends got to stay here in the first place.  The committee voted
that we wouldn't let him stay, but we put it to a community vote and the
ruling was changed.  Why shouldn't that same thing apply to banishing that
slut?  If the community agrees that she should go, then she should go,
right?"

This darkened the expressions of three of the women present.  These were
three that had been either caught at or suspected of fornicating with an
attached man; an offense that Jessica wished people expelled for.  But
before the thought that what she was suggesting could one day be turned
against them was even fully formed, Jessica covered that particular
loophole.

"Now you'd have to understand," she said, "that it should take more than a
simple majority vote to overturn a committee decision.  Particularly for
something as drastic as exiling someone.  I would think that nothing less
than a two-thirds majority would do for something like that."

"Two thirds?"

"Two-thirds," she said.  "Like when they tried to impeach Clinton a few
years ago, remember?  If two out of every three people of voting age in this
town say that that pregnant hussy should be exiled for what she's doing,
then that should be what happens."

There was a momentary pause as everyone went over this thought in their
head, their minds doing some quick addition.  Though there were probably
enough people against what Stacy had done to get her thrown out of town
using that rule, the same ratio would not hold up when it came to simple
fornication.  The people most against the act of sleeping with another
woman's partner were the women who had the partners, or roughly, twenty-one
of them.  Twenty-one was not even a simple majority, let alone two-thirds.
There did not seem to be any danger involved in supporting this plan.

"That sounds like a pretty good idea Jess," Candy said carefully, still
trying to find the hidden loopholes that Jessica was so famous for.

"Yes," one of the others put in.  "I think the town would go for something
like that."

"It gives us a little more power," said another.

Jessica smiled, knowing that she had them.  "I think it's a good idea too,"
she said.  "I'm going to propose this amendment at the next committee
meeting tomorrow morning.  Now I don't know how Dale or Paul are going to
vote, but I'm certainly going to say aye to a rule allowing the community to
overturn a decision."

"And what if it passes?" Candy asked, already knowing, as did everyone else
present, that it was as good as passed as long as it was only a majority
committee vote and not a unanimous one.  "Are you going to use it to throw
her out."

"You bet your butt," she said.  "We'll have a community meeting at dinner
tomorrow night and have a vote on it.  If two-thirds of the people want her
out, then she'll be walking across the bridge the next morning."

They all grinned as they thought of this, as they envisioned Stacy waddling
across the canyon out into the forest beyond the bridge.  They all thought
that would be a sweet sight to see, that hussy being ejected from their
town, although none of them could have told you just WHY that would have
been a sweet sight.

Jessica left them to their work a few minutes later, knowing that those five
women would vote the way she wanted them to.  With a smile she reentered the
subdivision and found her way back to the community center.  Outside was a
work-crew of four, also staffed exclusively with town women, that was
tending the fires that heated bath and cooking water.

"Hi Jess," they greeted with mixed levels of enthusiasm.  Though she was
valued as a gossip source and a leader, they did not like her personally.

"Hi girls," she said, putting back on her solemn expression.  She gathered
them around her and then began to speak, her topics neutral at first.
Within two minutes however, the subject of Jason and Stacy was brought up,
giving her an opening.  "It's interesting that you should mention that
hussy," she said, putting her angry expression on.  "We had a meeting about
that just this morning."

"You did?" she was asked.

"Of course," she said.  "After I found out that that young man had been in
the hussy's house half the night, I certainly wasn't going to let the issue
drop."

"So what happened?" they inquired.

"Well," she said, settling down into storytelling mode, "We brought the two
of them in for questioning about just what happened in there.  And guess
what they said?"

"What?"

And so the story was told again, to the shock of the latest bunch.  Just
like with the wood-gathering crew before, they fumed and cursed about the
outrage of Stacy's actions and then asked what was being done about it.
When told that nothing was being done about it, they demanded to know why.
When told why, they ranted for a few more minutes about the injustice of it
all and then Jessica slyly slipped in the suggestion about the two-thirds
majority rule.  As before, after a few uneasy worries were soothed, the idea
was embraced with enthusiasm.

 From the fire-tending crew, she moved on to the child care crew.  From
there, she moved on somewhere else.  She figured that she would be able to
talk to every woman in town by 2:30, which would give her more than enough
time to catch her afternoon nap.


+++++



Guard position 4 was located in the top story of one of the abandoned houses
in the southeast corner of the subdivision.  Except for the bridge lookout,
it was the most isolated of all the posts, far away from any of the occupied
houses.  It watched over the rough hills between the eastern wall and the
sheer impassible cliffs beyond them.  It was a post that would have been
obsolete had Brett been allowed to station guards on Hill 5107, but for now,
it was manned and on this day Michelle and Maria Sanchez had the duty.

At 3:30 Brett made his visit to the post after making the fifteen-minute
walk to it from the community center.  He found Maria and Michelle seated
before the window in card table chairs, a pair of binoculars, their
walkie-talkie, and a game of gin rummy laid out on the endtable between
them.  Leaning against the table was the high powered rifle that every guard
position had and one of the AK-47s.

"Good afternoon," Brett greeted them as he entered the room and sat down on
the bed.

"Hi Brett," Michelle greeted, offering him a friendly smile.

Maria too gave him a semi-cordial greeting.  Unlike many of the town women,
Maria, who was Hector's official woman, was used to hard work and didn't
complain much about being assigned to the detail.  As such she did not seem
to have as many hard feelings for Brett as others did.

He made small talk with them for a few moments, asking them how their shift
was going.  They reported that they had not seen a single person all day,
making it nearly two straight weeks since a straggler was last spotted from
this particular position.  Soon Maria, who had heard the rumors about Brett
and Michelle, sensed that her presence was not exactly wanted at the moment.
She announced that she was going to go out on the front porch for a
cigarette and got up, disappearing down the stairway.

"So how are you feeling today?" Michelle asked once she was gone.

"Like shit," he said honestly.  "My first post-comet hangover.  A historical
moment indeed."

"Me too," she said.  "I forgot how miserable I felt after drinking until
this morning.  Now I remember.  But what I meant was how do you feel about
what happened last night?  And what we talked about last night?"

"Oh," he said with a sigh.  "THAT how do I feel."

"That's the one."

"I don't really know," he told her after a moment.  "My mind is having a
hard time convincing me that you were serious about what you suggested."

"I was serious," she said.  "I suppose I could now tell you that it was the
alcohol talking, but it wasn't.  The alcohol just gave me the courage to
bring it up.  The idea itself was conceived and perfected while I was cold
sober.  And I still think that it's the only way."

"It just seems so... strange.  I could understand if you were trying to
steal me away from Chrissie, but to SHARE."  He shook his head a little.
"That's the bizarre part."

"But you mentioned it to Chrissie?" she asked.

"How did you know that?" he asked.

"She gave me a look at breakfast this morning that spoke volumes about how
she felt about me.  It was more than just the look that she would have given
had she merely heard the rumors about you and I.  I was pretty sure that you
told her my suggestion.  Did you do it while you were still drunk?"

"Yes," he said.  "She was waiting up for me when I got home.  The subject
was kind of forced upon me.  As you guessed, she didn't react very favorably
towards the suggestion."

"I told you that she wouldn't at first," she reminded him.  "It is quite a
shocking suggestion to have to deal with.  I think she'll come around
though.  There's not really anything else for her to do."

"She slapped me across the face," he said.  "And it hurt.  I don't think a
woman who reacts with physical violence to a suggestion is going to work her
way around to accepting it."

Michelle shrugged.  "Maybe, maybe not," she said.  "Time will tell.  But you
never answered my question.  How do YOU feel about it?  Besides thinking
it's bizarre and strange that is?"

"I'm a man," he said.  "If two beautiful women want to share me with each
other, I'm certainly not going to say no.  Does that answer your question?"

"It does," she said with a smile.  "And don't worry too much about Chrissie.
I'll talk to her at dinner tonight after shift."

"I don't think that's a real good idea," he said, thinking instantly of the
gun that Chrissie carried on her hip.  He had a frightfully clear vision of
Michelle lying dead on the gym floor beneath the table, a large bullet hole
in her forehead, and Chrissie being marched across the bridge the next day,
exiled for murder.

Michelle could tell what he was thinking.  "Don't worry," she said.  "She
won't hurt me and I won't hurt her.  If she reacts too strongly to my
talking to her, I'll just leave and try again tomorrow.  I have patience."

He gave a very doubtful look but offered no further protests.  "Have you
heard about Jason and Stacy?" he asked her.

She nodded.  "Maria filled me in on the latest when she came on shift at
twelve.  Quite a powder keg brewing, isn't it?"

"To say the least," he said.  "Did she tell you what Jessica is up to now?"

"About the two-thirds community vote?"

"Yep."

"Yes, she told me about it.  Jessica caught her before she came out here and
gave her the spiel.  It sounds like she is being very persuasive.  Maria is
not even a town woman and she hates Jessica with a passion but she came in
here spouting about that hussy and that bitch and using phrases that I know
she could have only been fed by Jess.  If she can rile up Maria like that, I
can only imagine how riled up the town women are getting."

"They're pretty riled all right," he said.  "You should've heard some of the
things they were saying to us while we were moving his things over there
this afternoon."

"He still moved in with her huh?"

"He did," he confirmed.  "He wasn't going to be talked out of it.  He told
me that if they throw Stacy out of town then he'll be going across the
bridge with her."

"You have to admire his devotion," she said.  "It's too bad that this hen
party we call a citizenry doesn't see that.  He's much more dedicated to his
woman than any other man in town, isn't he?  Do you think Dale would walk
across the bridge with Jessica if we threw her out?"

"I'd sure like to make the experiment," he said, making both of them laugh.

"Will what she's trying to do really work?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said.  "I don't see any way to stop it.  At tomorrow's committee
meeting Jessica will propose that a two-thirds vote of the entire community
can override any committee decision.  She'll vote for it and so will Dale
and that means it will pass.  At the community meeting that night, she'll
move that we vote on overturning the committee's decision not to exile Stacy
for statutory rape.  I've sampled the mood of those women out there.  She
won't have any problem getting a two-thirds majority, even if all of the men
vote no."

"Great," Michelle said, slumping a little in her chair.  "I'll try talking
to some of them after dinner tonight and at dinner tomorrow.  Maybe I can
swing some of them over to my bandwagon.  It can't hurt."

"Why don't I just give you the day off tomorrow and you can spend all day
doing it?" he suggested.

She shook her head.  "Not a good idea," she said.  "It would be
counter-productive if you had to assign someone to my position so I could go
politic for you.  It would look rather shady, especially in light of the
rumors that are already floating around about the two of us."

He sighed.  "I guess you're right," he said.  "Now I know why Paul told me
the first night that living in a town full of women was a pain in the ass."



+++++


At 5:30, just as the unseen sun was nearing the horizon, John Kramer and
Bill Blades had one last conference.  They, as well as all of their men,
were sequestered behind the last group of hills before the open ground along
the northern wall, almost exactly halfway between guard positions two and
three.  The recon they had done had convinced them that these were the only
two posts on this side of the subdivision.  The time had come to stop
watching and to start attacking.

"We ready to get into position?" John whispered to Bill.

"I think so," he replied.

"Is everyone's watch synchronized exactly?"

"I've checked my guys three times," he said.  "They're all tuned exactly to
my watch and my watch is tuned exactly to yours."

"Good enough," John told him.  "Remember, we move into position at two in
the morning and hide ourselves.  You can fudge a little on that time, but
not on the attack time.  At eight o'clock sharp we strike.  No more, no
less.  It's vital that we take out those guards before they have a chance to
call in.  Don't shoot unless you absolutely have to.  Make those Raid-bombs
do the job.  I don't think they'd be able to hear gunfire all the way over
at the community center with this rain, but you never know."

"We'll do it," Bill assured him confidently.  "Two o'clock we penetrate,
eight o'clock and the Raid bombs go in.  Once the guards are down, we meet
in the middle and move on the community center."

"If we do this right," John told him, "We'll be sinking into some nice pussy
in about fifteen hours.  Tell your men that.  It'll pep 'em up."

"Already did it."

"Okay.  It's time.  Get your people into position and I'll see you tomorrow
morning."

The two men each joined their group.  Bill's group, which was tasked with
taking down guard position 3 (although they did not know that was the name
of it) consisted of Bill and seven of the hunters, all of them armed with
their rifles and plenty of ammunition, two of them armed with the special
"Raid-bombs" that they had devised and found so effective in quickly taking
out people in enclosed places.  John's group was tasked with taking down
guard position 2 at exactly the same instant.  His group also consisted of
seven hunters in addition to the leader, two of whom also had the
Raid-bombs.

While they still had some daylight left, the two groups moved in opposite
directions, staying behind the concealment of the hills but paralleling the
wall.  Each leader would periodically check position by peering carefully
around a tree or over the top of a rise to see how close to their targets
they were.  When they found themselves to be almost exactly across from the
guard positions, they stopped and hid themselves carefully in the foliage.
They had just enough time before it got completely dark to make one last
check of their supplies and ammo.  Everything was as it should be.

The sun deserted them and so did the light.  They settled in and waited,
knowing it was going to be a long night but anxious for the rewards that
awaited them on the other side of it.


+++++


Chrissie was mostly picking at her dinner instead of eating it.  She pushed
it around with her fork and occasionally took a small nibble, but her
stomach, which was tied up in knots due to all the worries on her mind, did
not embrace the offerings she gave it.  As if the problems with Brett and
Michelle were not enough, now she had her brother to worry about as well.
He had relieved her at her post less than an hour ago and had told her his
plan to walk across the bridge with Stacy if it came to that.  She had
argued and pleaded with him for nearly ten minutes, trying to get him to
change his mind.  Although she liked and respected Stacy much more than she
did any other female in town, she did not want to lose her only brother when
she was kicked out.  And she had no doubt in her mind that kicked out was
exactly what was going to happen.  Jessica had visited the guard post that
day while she had been on duty and in the space of less than five minutes
had been able to whip Brenda, her partner, into a seething fury at Stacy's
"crime".

"Do you realize that if you vote to kick her out, you'll be sentencing her
to death?" Chrissie had asked Brenda after Jessica's departure.

"No," Brenda has answered indignantly (the way she always talked whenever
she addressed Chrissie) "We'll be exiling her, not executing her."

"Don't kid yourself," Chrissie had responded.  "If you send a pregnant women
across that bridge, she's as good as dead.  You just won't have to have to
watch it."

The conversation had deteriorated from there, eventually ending with Brenda
storming out of the room and going downstairs for the rest of her shift.
Chrissie was glad to be rid of her.

Now, as she forced herself to swallow a small portion of canned peas, she
wondered if she should just go with Jason and Stacy when they left.  Why
not?  If they could talk Paul into giving them a couple of guns and few days
worth of food, maybe they could live for a while.  Maybe they could make
their way to Auburn eventually and see what life held for them down there.

A figure approaching her in the nearly empty gym distracted her from these
thoughts.  She looked up and at first couldn't credit what she was seeing.
Was it really Michelle, the woman who had aspirations of sharing Brett,
coming over to her?  She wouldn't be that crass, would she?

It seemed that she would.  As she got to within ten feet it became obvious
that she was heading for Chrissie.  Chrissie shot her the glare that had
cowered her so well that morning, warning her to stay away.  This time
however, the glare did not work its magic.  Michelle stopped directly across
from her, holding her own plate of food, and looked down.

"Can I sit with you?" she asked.

Chrissie looked up at her in disbelief.  "I don't think so," she said, venom
dripping from her words.  "You are the last person that I want to eat with."

Michelle didn't move.  "Even worse than Jessica?" she asked.

Chrissie didn't smile.  "Go away," she said.

"We need to talk Chrissie," she said.

"I have nothing to talk to you about."

"But you do," she said.  "You have a lot to talk to me about and I have a
lot to talk to you about.  So why don't you behave like the adult I know you
are and give it a shot, huh?  That's what adults do when they have a
conflict with each other."

It was her tone that did the trick.  It was not the least bit condescending,
not even when she said "adult".  It was so rare that someone talked to her
that way that she found herself responding to the words.  "All right," she
said, waving to the seat across from her impatiently.  "Sit down.  Talk."

"Thank you," Michelle said, setting her plate down.  She eased herself into
the seat and looked across the table, making no move to pick up her
silverware.  "I talked to Brett today," she said.

Chrissie shrugged.  "So you talked to him.  So what?"

"He told me that he brought up the uh... suggestion that I had about you,
him, and I."

"You mean sharing him?" she said, hissing a little but keeping her voice
down.  "Yes, he brought it up.  Did he tell you what I did?"

"He said you slapped him," she said tonelessly.

"Damn right.  And I oughtta do the same thing to you too."

Now it was Michelle who shrugged.  "And what would that accomplish?  It
would hurt my face, it would probably hurt your hand, and nothing will have
changed.  We would still be sitting here with the same problems that we had
before."

Chrissie did not know how to respond to that.  She simply continued to
stare.

"Tell me something," Michelle said.  "Why is it that you are so opposed to
what I have suggested?"

"Why?  Are you serious?  Because it's sick!"

"Why is it sick?" Michelle wanted to know next.

"What?"

"I believe you heard me," she said.  "Why do you think that two women
sharing a man is sick?  I will admit that it is somewhat unconventional to
our upbringing, and that it is something that I never considered before the
comet fell.  I will even admit that it is far from ideal from our
perspective.  If it were up to me I would much prefer having one man to
myself.  But that is not the reality that we live in anymore.  You think
that it is sick because it goes against the values that you were raised
with, right?"

"Of course it goes against them," she said.  "Doesn't it go against yours?
Or did your father have two wives?"

"My parents divorced when I was young," Michelle said.  "But that is neither
here nor there.  I too was raised to believe that monogamous relationships
were the way things were supposed to be.  Everybody was raised to think
that, whether they did it in practice or not.  But then everybody was also
raised in a world where there was an equal amount of men and women, weren't
they?"

"That doesn't matter."

"It DOES matter Chrissie.  That's what I'm trying to tell you.  We have five
women for every man in this town.  Five to one.  Would you agree that that
ratio is creating problems in this town?"

It seemed like a trick question and she hesitated for a moment.  Finally she
reluctantly said, "Yes.  It is creating a big problem."

"We don't live in normal times anymore," Michelle told her.  "The
civilization that we grew up with is dead and most of the values that we
were raised with cannot apply anymore.  Do you agree that you should be
allowed to sleep with Brett in the first place."

"What?"

"Should this town allow you and Brett to sleep together?  Should it allow
your brother and Stacy to sleep together?"

"Well... yes," she answered.  "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because it's a value that has been changed to suit the situation.  Would
you have slept with Brett if you had met him before the comet?"

"No," she said slowly, seeing where this was heading.  "I would've told my
dad and had him call the police if he would've tried."

"And how about Stacy and Jason?  If you would've found out that a twenty
year old pregnant woman had seduced your fourteen year old brother before
the comet, what would you have done?"

"Told my dad and had him call the police," she said.

"Exactly.  Yet now, after the comet, you accept Brett as a lover without
question, don't you?  You accept Stacy as your brother's lover, don't you?
I saw you hugging her this morning.  So that must mean that you have changed
your value system a little bit to accept these new realities."

Chrissie shook her head.  "You're talking about apples and oranges," she
said.  "My brother and I are adults now because of the comet and what
happened.  All that has changed is that we're trying to be treated like
adults and given the rights that we deserve.  That is not the same thing as
changing my values to accept another woman into my relationship.  I won't
have any part of that."

"But you're already a part of it, whether you like it or not," Michelle
said.  "You are one of the women in this town where men are endangered
species.  We are the glut here Chrissie and the men are the demand.  It's
going to come down to either sharing what's available or going without."

"I'll go without then," she said defiantly.

"For how long?  Forever?  That's real easy to say right now.  But what about
later, when you need him."

"I don't need him."

"And what about Brett himself?" she asked.  "What about when the town finds
out about the two of you and Jessica riles them all up to exile him for
having sex with a minor.  I don't even have to convince you that she can do
that, she's already doing it with Stacy."

"How will they find out about the two of us if we're not together anymore?"
Chrissie asked.

"I think you maybe know the answer to that," she said softly, leaning
forward a little.

Chrissie became very uncomfortable all of a sudden.  "What... what do you
mean?"

"How late is your period Chrissie?" she asked her.

Chrissie paled as she heard this.  How had Michelle known?  How could she
possible have known?  She had not even told Brett about that!  She had
hardly even told herself about it, not wanting to face what it meant.

"How late?" she repeated.

"How did you know?" she whispered, trembling a little.

"Elementary," she said.  "I mentioned this possibility to Brett last night
and it got me to thinking.  This morning, before I went out to my position,
I took a look at the supply room log.  In the entire time you've been here,
you have not signed out a single box of tampons or pads.  You should have
had at least one period in the time you've been here; maybe even two if the
timing was right.  And you don't seem the type that would've gone in and
taken them without signing for them.  So how long?"

She continued to look at the woman across from her, feeling a reluctant
respect for her deduction skills.  "Almost three weeks," she finally
admitted.

Michelle nodded.  "A little too long to blame on stress, wouldn't you say?"

Chrissie felt herself starting to cry as the very excuse that she had been
giving herself all of this time was thrown back at her.  In her mind it had
seemed a reasonable explanation.  Spoken aloud by another person, it sounded
ridiculous.

"You're pregnant Chrissie," Michelle said gently.  "You're carrying Brett's
baby in you.  Even if you don't want to keep it, which I doubt, there is no
way available here to put a stop to what's going on inside of you.  We don't
have any doctors or medical equipment here.  The best we can offer is Paul,
who was an EMT on a fire engine and who is equipped with the basic first aid
kits that came with it.  He's real good at putting ice on sprains and
bandaging up cuts, but I don't think he knows how to abort a pregnancy."

"Oh god," Chrissie said, fighting not to face the facts and losing
miserably.  More tears began to fall, dripping from her face into her food.

"It's okay," Michelle said gently, reaching across the table and taking one
of her hands.  Chrissie did not protest.  "It isn't anybody's fault, it's
just the way that things work.  You didn't think that you'd live long enough
to have to worry about this.  But, thanks to Brett bringing you here, you
have lived that long.  Why not be grateful that you're still around to cry
about it?"

"How can I bring a baby into this world?" Chrissie asked.  "What kind of
life is it going to have?"

"The kind of life that we provide for it," Michelle answered.  "And in a
way, that's what I'm trying to improve by having this talk with you right
now."

"What?" she asked, sniffing a little.

"Let's take things one step at a time, shall we?" Michelle told her.  "In
the first place, there's the pregnancy itself.  What's going to happen when
you start to show, when it becomes obvious that you're expecting?  Who is
the first person that they're going to look at?"

"Brett," she said, seeing the point immediately.

"And what do you think they're going to do to him?"

"You know what they'll do with him," she said.  "They'll exile him."

"Right," Michelle said.  "They'll exile him for statutory rape, just like
they're planning to do with Stacy.  So what we have to agree upon here is
the fact that there is no way that your relationship with Brett can be
hidden from the town forever.  They are going to find out about it.  All we
can hope to do is control the manner in which they find out about it."

"And how does sharing him with you help with that?" she asked, some of her
previous bitterness coming back.

"Because I am a respected member of this town and I am somewhat of a
trendsetter.  Now I don't know for sure if my involvement in the
relationship will be able to counter Jessica's opposition to you and Brett,
but I know for damn sure that without it, all hope is lost."

"Why do have to share him?" she wanted to know.  "Why can't you just give us
your support from the sidelines?  Or are you trying to blackmail us?"

"I want to share him," Michelle said.  "I need a man to hold and to have sex
with just as much as everyone else in this town and, to me, Brett is the
most desirable that we have.  Those are my main reasons for suggesting this
arrangement.  If it doesn't work out that way for whatever reason, then I
will still give my support to you and be a voice against Jessica.  I will do
that Chrissie, no matter what.  However, I think my words will carry much
more power with the other women if I am actually a part of a relationship
with you.  My arguments will seem more legitimate to them and there will
also be the side-issue of the polygamy to take a little of the heat off of
the under eighteen issue."

Chrissie shook her head, not understanding.

"Look at it this way," Michelle explained.  "Most of the women in town do
not have an official man and they desperately want one.  They will embrace
the polygamy issue the same way that I do; by concluding that it is better
than what they have, which is nothing.  They WILL side with me on sharing
men, I have no doubt about that.  So if they side with me on that against
Jessica and the other women who have official partners, they will be hard
pressed to side with Jessica against you being with Brett in the first
place.  They will not be able to jump on both bandwagons at the same time.
By tackling both of these issues in one single battle, we will be able to
prevail with both of them."

"This is just too much," Chrissie said, realizing almost belatedly that she
had been giving serious consideration to what Michelle was saying.  "Too
much has happened today.  I can't think."

"But you have to," Michelle said.  "Time is running out.  You don't need to
make any decisions right now, but you will have to make one soon.  And as
you're mulling all of this over, try to think about that baby in you.  You
mentioned what kind of world you would be bringing it into.  It won't be the
world that you were brought into, that is a given.  But it would be nice if
it was a world with some sort of order to it.  Sharing men is not perfect,
but if we start the ball rolling, it will catch on and it will bring order
to this chaos that we have here.  And maybe someday that baby's children or
grandchildren will be able to go back to the values that we used to have."

"That would be nice," Chrissie said.  "It would be, but... I don't think
that I could share a man with someone.  I just can't see myself doing that.
How could we live with the jealousy?"

"It will take some time," Michelle said.  "I suspect that we would probably
fight with each other quite a lot at first and we would have to change and
rearrange how we would go about certain... things.  It won't be a cakewalk.
The only way it would work would be if we were friends with each other.  And
Chrissie, despite what has happened, I do consider you to be my friend.  I
like you a lot and I care about you.  And most of all, I would be honored to
share a man with you."

Chrissie left a few minutes later, without a decision made one way or the
other but with a lot on her mind.  She walked slowly home and entered the
house, seeing that Brett was lying on the couch, reading a paperback novel
from the supply room.  He looked up at her anxiously, not saying anything.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," he replied back.

Instead of retreating to her bedroom as she usually did, she stayed at the
end of the couch.  They continued to look at each other and then they began
to talk.  They mentioned nothing about Michelle or polygamy.  She said
nothing about the near-certainty that she was pregnant.  Instead they talked
about Jason and Stacy and the possibility of her being voted from town the
next night.  He vowed that he would do everything in his power to prevent
that, both before and after the vote.  He told her that Paul was going to
try to enlist the aid of the other men in town in support of Jason; a
prospect which might be promising if they pressured their official women to
vote nay and try to convince others to do so.  He did not mention that
Michelle would try to talk to some of the other women, not wanting to bring
up her name.  She told him that she was keeping her hopes up, that things
had a way of working out.  And then she said goodnight and went to her room.
It was not exactly a mending of the relationship, but it was the most that
they had said to each other with civil tongues since the day he had told her
about Mitsy.


+++++


At precisely 2:00 AM, Bill gave the order to his men.  It was time to move
in.  They stood shoulder to shoulder, moving slowly so that their equipment
would not clank or make any other sort of noise.  They linked arms so that
no one would stray off in the wrong direction in the darkness.  They then
began to move forward, towards the wall.

Each step was made carefully and slowly, the ground beneath their feet being
tested before the weight was shifted onto it.  It took them nearly twenty
minutes to cross the fifty yards of open ground but finally Bill, who was on
the end of the line of men, felt wet concrete against his outstretched left
hand.  We whispered the word "wall" to the man next to him.  That man
whispered it to the man next to him.  Within three seconds the message had
been passed to everyone and they came to a complete stop.  They unlinked
arms and everyone reached out to touch the wall.

"I'll go up first," Bill said to the man next to him.  "Once I'm over, you
come up.  We do it one by one that way."

"Right," the man replied.  He then passed the message on to the man on his
right.

"Give me a boost," Bill said.  It took a few moments of fumbling in the
darkness but finally he was able to insert his muddy boot into the clasped
hands of the man next to him.  His rifle and pack over his shoulder, his
hands touching the wall, he pushed upward with his foot, elevating his head
above the top of the wall.  He could see nothing on the other side except a
distant faint glow from an occupied house.  The guard position, he knew, was
in front of him and to the left.  There was no light coming from it at the
moment and it was therefore invisible.  He pulled himself completely atop
the wall and then, moving with extreme caution, slid his feet over to the
other side while continuing to hold to the top with his hands.  There was a
small clank as his rifle shifted but not loud enough to be heard more than
ten feet away.  He eased downward until he was dangling from the top by his
hands only and then, with a deep breath, he let go.

He had worried incessantly that there might be a hole or a bush or a
sprinkler head beneath him that would cause him to land badly, injuring
himself and creating noise, but this worry turned out to be groundless.  He
landed in soft, spongy mud where grass was currently dying from the lack of
sunlight and excessive watering.  He sank about six inches into it but was
able to easily pull himself free.  He stepped a few paces away and waited
for the next man to come over.

Now that someone was safely on the other side, it became much easier to get
the rest over.  As each man swung his way over the wall, the man before him
would grab him around the waist to help him down.  The second to last man
remained up for a moment to give the last man a hand to the top.  Then they
were both helped down.  Less than ten minutes after Bill's hand first
encountered concrete, all eight of his group was inside the subdivision less
than a hundred feet from the guard position.  There was no indication of any
kind that they had been seen.  They moved on to the next phase of their
insertion.

As Brett had done when he had penetrated the town by using the bridge, Bill
used his extensive recon knowledge to get himself and his group to safety.
Though he could not see a thing, he knew that he was directly across the
street from the single story house that was next door to the guard position.
He also knew that that house, like many of the others in Garden Hill, had
lost a good portion of its perimeter fence to a combination of the
windstorms and the earthquake.  It was a collapsed mess of wooden planks and
posts lying along the western side of the house.  The group once again
linked arms and spread out into a line.  Slowly, deliberately, they walked
step by step across the street, up over the gutter, and onto the house's
driveway.  When Bill's fingers encountered the metal of the garage door,
they stopped.  One by one, moving by feel, they then moved around the corner
of the house to the side yard, placing the bulk of the house between
themselves and the guard position.

"Okay," Bill whispered once they were all safely there.  "I'm gonna turn on
the light now."

With that he activated a small penlight that ran on AAA batteries.  The
illumination it provided was scant indeed, but it was enough to allow them
to move into the backyard without stepping on any of the fence debris.  They
made their way onto the patio, which was covered with a roof and took
shelter there between the wall of the house and a dead hot tub.

"Good job everyone," Bill said once they were in position.  "Now we wait
until morning."

Three quarters of a mile to the west, at the house next door to position 2,
John and his team had found even better luck.  They had found that the house
had actually been unlocked and they settled down to wait in the darkened
living room behind closed blinds.

At position 3, Jason and Tim Harding, a former PG&E electrical worker, were
on duty.  Tim, who had come on at midnight, was in the walk-in closet with
the door closed, using his flashlight to read a Penthouse magazine that he
had found in the former grocery store.  Jason, who had long since given up
trying to keep his partners alert to their duty, was looking out the window
into the darkness.  He had seen nothing although he had been looking almost
directly at the spot where the men had penetrated.  Nor had he heard
anything.

At position 2 Mitsy and Laura Lewis were pulling the duty.  Neither one of
them had been looking out the window when the penetration occurred.
Instead, the two women were gossiping about Stacy and Jason and wondering
just what Brett was going to do when that bitch got voted out of the town.
Mitsy was of the opinion that he wouldn't have the balls to say or do
anything.  Laura, on the other hand, thought he might try something
dramatic, although just what that might be, she couldn't say.  When one of
John Kramer's men lost his grip on the wall as he came over and fell to the
ground, a loud clank was clearly heard as his rifle barrel hit the concrete
at the base.

"What was that?" Laura said, taking a careless glance out into the darkness.

"I don't know," Mitsy said, shifting herself in her chair.  "Probably
something falling over.  There's all kinds of weird noises out there."

"Oh, okay," Laura replied and there was no more discussion on the matter.  A
second later they went back to gossiping in the darkness.

Twice between the time the invaders hid themselves and dawn, the night
perimeter patrol passed by the houses they were in or behind.  Though they
had heavy-duty flashlights they did not shine them on the houses, let alone
notice anything amiss.

When the first touches of daylight came to the sky at 5:45 the next morning,
Bill's group left the shelter of the patio and eased over alongside the
eastern fence of the backyard, where a lengthy section was still standing.
They knew that the guard posts changed crews in fifteen minutes and they
wanted to make extra sure that a random sighting by the oncoming or offgoing
crew as they entered or exited did not give them away.  It was a small
chance at best that anyone would have noticed them on the patio but it was
best not to take chances.  If living in the wilderness had taught them
anything, it had taught them that.


+++++


At guard position 2, Michelle and Brenda, the assigned crew for that first
portion of the day, arrived promptly at 6:00 AM, relieving Mitsy and Laura.
As was normal when one female crew relieved another, the offgoing lingered
for a few minutes to share the latest gossip.  Michelle took up her position
near the window and listened for a few minutes as the three of them began
talking about the latest developments in the Stacy and Jason saga.  All
three were of course of the opinion that she would be voted out of town by
the end of the night, and good riddance.

"What do you think about this Michelle?" she was asked at one point, as she
had known that she would be.

And so, attempting to utilize every ounce of influence that she had, she
began explaining to them that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Stacy
and Jason living together as lovers.

"What?" they asked, taken aback.

She did her best but, as she had discovered the previous night after her
conversation with Chrissie, her influence in this matter was not quite as
strong as she had thought it would be.  They listened to her respectfully
and even agreed with many of her points but they were completely unwilling
to concede that a fourteen year old, even under the extreme circumstances
found in the world these days, was a suitable sexual partner for a pregnant
20 year old woman.  All declared that they would be shouting out ayes when
Jessica put the matter of ejecting Stacy to vote.

"It would set a horrible precedent if we let her stay," Mitsy said, using
the exact phrase that Jessica had used when they'd talked the day before.

"Yes," Laura added.  "Imagine what would happen if we did not respond
forcefully to this.  Think of what would result in the future."  This too
was a verbatim quote from Jessica's speech.

Brenda then put in her own two-cents worth by borrowing yet another
Jessica-ism that had to do with protecting the morals of the young.

By the time that Mitsy and Laura finally left at 6:40 (Mitsy heading off in
a different direction than her partner), Michelle was seriously worried
about what was going to happen at dinner tonight. She of course could not
know that less than a hundred feet away were eight men determined to see to
it that she did not have dinner that night, or any other night ever again.


+++++


At guard position 3, crew-change actually took place at 6:10 that morning
since Jeff and Lenny Long, a former grocery store courtesy clerk, were late
arriving.  This was not an uncommon occurrence at the Garden Hill guard
posts and it did not even draw a snide remark from Jason or Tim.

Tim headed out the door the moment that the relief crew entered the house,
not even pausing long enough to say hello to either of them.  Jason tried to
give a pass-on report as he had been taught by Brett, but neither one of the
two men wanted to hear it.  They simply waved him away, although they did
offer him their best wishes in the upcoming Stacy vote.

"I think its totally bogus," Jeff opined.  "I mean, how dare they try to
vote someone out for giving up the puss.  What kinda shit is that?"

"Yeah," Lenny agreed, sitting on the bed and lighting a cigarette, "even if
you are just a kid, if you're able to score it, that's one for you.  I'm
voting nay on that shit tonight, that's for sure."

Jason, whose stomach was tied in even worse knots than his sister's, thanked
them kindly and then made his leave, heading slowly towards the gym to have
breakfast.

Once he was gone Lenny and Jeff settled themselves in by rearranging their
chairs further away from the open window to avoid the damp breeze the was
blowing in.  They would have shut the window completely had they not tried
such a thing in the past and incurred the furious wrath of Brett on one of
his unannounced visits.  Neither one of them gave so much as a passing
glance out the window.  Nor did they check their weapons to make sure they
were locked and loaded.  The only thing that they did by the book was call
Brett on the walkie-talkie to report that they were in position.

"Another fucking six hours in this hellhole," Lenny complained, leaning back
in his chair and putting his feet on the endtable, knocking the
walkie-talkie to the floor.  He didn't bother picking it back up.

"It won't be that bad today," Jeff said, pulling a joint out.  "I've
arranged for a little entertainment for us."

"What, the joint?  All that does is makes the time pass slower."

"Not THAT kind of entertainment," he said, stuffing it behind his ear for
later.  "I'm talking about REAL entertainment.  Mitsy's gonna come over.
She just got off shift at position 2 and she's gonna skip breakfast today so
she can visit us."

"Mitsy," he said, shaking his head.  "That doesn't do ME any good."

"Dude," Jeff said slyly, "have faith in me.  I'll set you up.  You'll see."

"Set me up?"

"I'll set you up.  This'll be a shift to remember."


+++++


It was 7:05 when Bill, who was looking through a knothole in the fence
towards the guard position's front yard, saw someone coming.  It was hard to
tell much detail because of the rain slicker but he was pretty sure it was a
woman.  He signaled to his men to settle down and be alert.  They all
gripped their rifles a little tighter and made themselves as small as
possible.

The woman didn't even glance in their direction.  She walked right on by and
cut across the soggy lawn of the guard house, disappearing from their view.
When she didn't come back after a moment, they were forced to conclude that
she had gone inside.

"What the hell?" one of the men asked Bill nervously.

"I don't know," he said.  "It wasn't the leader that always checks on them,
it was a bitch."

"What's she doing in there?  Is this going to fuck up the plan?"

"Not as long as she's in the room with them at eight o'clock," he replied.
"We go ahead as scheduled.  I don't see any reason to abort."

"All right," the man said doubtfully.  "Should I start arming up the
Raid-bombs now?"

"Yeah," he said.  "Get it done."

While Bill continued to watch through the knothole, two of his men removed
the partially assembled bombs from their backpacks.  Each bomb was a rather
simple device, though very deadly within a confined space like a bedroom.
They consisted of standard-sized cans of Raid industrial insect killer, the
contents of which was nothing more than pressurized organo-phosphate poison,
basically a crude form of military nerve gas.  Attached to the side of the
can with super glue, primer side up, was a single 12-gauge shotgun shell
containing .00 buckshot.  To arm the bomb, an ingeniously designed firing
mechanism needed to be attached.  It was a three-inch length of 3/4 inch PVC
pipe with a half-penny nail connected to the spring from a rat-trap.  When
the spring was pulled back, it would seat the head of the nail a half an
inch above the shotgun shell's primer.  When it was released - and it took
nothing more than the impact of the bomb landing on the ground to cause
this - it would drive the nail into the primer, firing the shell directly
into the can of raid, causing it to explode spectacularly.  The men
carefully fitted these mechanisms over the shotgun shells, not activating
the springs just yet.  They would do that only as they were moving in on the
target.


+++++


It was 7:35 and they had just finished smoking Jeff's joint.  Mitsy, her
eyes reddened both from fatigue and the pot, sat on the edge of the bed
between the two men.  Jeff was resting his hand high up on her blue-jean
clad thigh.

"Why don't we go check out the other bedroom Jeffy?" she asked coyly, giving
his hand a sensuous squeeze.  "I got something that I really need to talk to
you about."  She giggled at her own euphemism.

"We can talk in here baby," Jeff said, letting his hand slide a little
higher.  "Lenny don't mind, do you Lenny?"

She giggled again.  "This is kinda personal," she said.  "I really think we
should be alone."

He leaned in and began kissing her neck, right at the junction of the
shoulder blade.  His hand slid firmly into the junction of her thighs,
moving so fast she didn't have time to close them.  "It's okay baby," he
said.  "I think Lenny would like to talk too."

"Jeff," she said, trying to pull away from him but he was holding her with
his free hand.  "I want to... you know?"

"So do I baby, so do I," he said.

"I want to do it ALONE," she told him.  "Come on."

Jeff nibbled at her ear, his tongue swirling over the diamond earring in the
lobe.  "Don't be such a prude baby, we both want a little action this
morning."

"What?" she said, wondering if we was joking or not.  One look at his face
told her that he wasn't.  "No Jeff," she said firmly.  "I don't do things
like that.  That's sick."

"What's sick about it?" he asked, standing up and facing her.  "I'm horny,
you're horny, Lenny's horny, and we're all three here together.  Why not
take care of everything at once.  Right Lenny?"

"Well... uh... yeah, I guess so," he stammered, unsure what to say, though
very erect inside of his jeans just at the thought of a little double-team
action with Mitsy.

"You see," Jeff said, reaching down and fondling her left breast through her
sweater.  "Even Lenny agrees."

"I'm not gonna do it," she said firmly, pushing his hand away.  "If you want
me, I'll do it with you in the bedroom like always.  But I'm not gonna do
both of you.  I'm not that kind of girl."

"You'd better learn to be," Jeff said threateningly.  "If you expect me to
leave Gina and move in with you, I expect you to do the things that I want
to do.  If you don't want to play the way I want you to, then just get on
out the door and I'll be seeing you around."

"Jeff," she said, her eyes pleading.  "That's not fair.  That's blackmail."

"That's the way life is now baby.  Now you gonna play, or what?"

She lowered her eyes and slumped her shoulders in defeat.  What else could
she do?  She didn't have a man of her own and it was starting to look like
she might be able to wrangle Jeff away.  She was too close to blow that now,
wasn't she?  "I'll play," she said quietly.

"What was that?" Jeff asked, twisting the knife a little.

"I said I'll play," she said defiantly.

Jeff grinned, slapping Lenny, who had watched the entire exchange in
fascination, on the shoulder.  "Come on Lenny, she's gonna play for us.
Stand on up here and let's start out with a blowjob.  She gives the best
fucking blowjobs you've ever had."

Lenny, despite his discomfort with the manner in which Jeff had manipulated
her, still had a raging hard-on.  He knew that he should not be taking part
in something like this but he couldn't help himself.  Mitsy was a hot
looking piece.  He stood next to Jeff with his crotch right in Mitsy's face.

"Come on baby," Jeff told her.  "Take 'em out and get to work."

Feeling humiliation unlike anything that she had ever experienced before,
Mitsy reached out and unbuttoned first Jeff's pants and then Lenny's,
pushing each pair down so that their hard cocks were sticking in her face.
She gave Jeff one last pleading look but saw no hope for reprieve in his
face.  With a sigh she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

"Ahhh yess," Jeff said happily, grabbing a handful of her hair and guiding
her motions.   "Use your hand on Lenny while you're sucking me," he told
her.

She reached over with the hand that was not jacking up and down on Jeff and
began to listlessly jack off Lenny's cock.  Lenny didn't care that it was
listless.  Her hand around his organ, no matter how unenthusiastically she
moved it, felt great.  He began to piston his hips in and out of her fist.

"Feel her titties," Jeff suggested to his partner.  "She likes that.
They're kinda small but they're nice."

Lenny reached down and grasped her right breast roughly through her sweater,
making her wince a little.  She never broke stride however.  He began to
squeeze and knead it, moving it up and down, back and forth.

Jeff let her suck him for about five minutes and then he abruptly pulled
himself from her mouth.  "It's Lenny's turn," he told her.  "Give him your
best."

"Jeff, really," she pleaded.  "This is humiliating."

"But it's your lot in life now baby," he said toughly, pushing her head
towards Lenny's crotch.  "Now do what you're told."

Obediently she took Lenny into her mouth and went to work.  Lenny found out
in short order that she was every bit the cocksucker that Jeff had promised
she was.



+++++




Bill checked his watch.  It was 7:55 AM.  Almost time to strike.  He turned
to the two men who were the designated bombers of the guard post.  "All
right you guys," he said.  "Are you ready to move in?"

They both told him that they were ready.  They were obviously nervous about
the prospect of attacking such a large settlement, but they were also full
of confidence as well.

"Okay," Bill said.  "Start moving in.  Remember the plan and remember not to
throw them until 8:00 and zero seconds.  Got it?"

They told him that they had it and they moved in.

They left the backyard by retracing their steps from how they had entered
it.  Keeping close to the side of the house, they edged over the lumber of
the fallen fence and worked their way out into the driveway, keeping their
backs as close to the garage door as they could get them without actually
rattling it.  The window that served as the guard post was less than fifty
feet away from them but they were confident that they could get over there
without being seen as long as one of the guards did not actually stick his
or her head out of the window and look to the left.  They continued to edge
along the wall of the house until they were near the front porch, well back
from the sightline of the guardhouse now.  They then trotted over until
their backs were against the two-story house itself.

They crept along the side of this house until they were at the corner, near
the garage door.  The open window from which the guards operated was
directly over the garage and the driveway.  They paused at this corner,
waiting for it to be exactly 8:00 AM.  When the appointed time came they
would have to do nothing but pull back the springs on their bombs, take six
or seven steps out onto the driveway, and toss them inside.  It was an easy
shot through the window but they were using two bombs in case, for whatever
reason, one of them missed.

"Remember not to shoot unless we have to," the first man whispered to his
companion.

"I won't," he said, checking his watch again.  It read 7:58.



+++++



Mitsy was now completely naked, her impressive body on hands and knees on
the bed.  Jeff was standing on the floor in front of her, his dick in her
mouth, enjoying her wet blowjob.  His hands were squeezing her small breasts
roughly, his fingers occasionally giving the nipples a strong tweak.  Lenny
was behind her, driving his dick in and out of her pussy from behind.  He
was holding onto her hips hard enough to leave marks upon her flesh.

"Doesn't she have a nice, tight pussy?" Jeff asked with a grin, looking at
the rapturous face of his partner.

"Yeah," he moaned, feeling the clenching of her muscles upon his cock.
Though she was not really any tighter than Carla, his official woman, or
Barbara, his main piece on the side, there was something intrinsically nasty
and arousing about double-teaming Mitsy at the guard post.  This was the
best sex that he had experienced since the comet, and he had experienced a
lot of it since that fateful day.

"Put it in her ass," Jeff told him.  "She loves that."

Mitsy took her mouth off of his cock and looked up at him.  "Jeff," she
said, appalled that he would suggest something like that.

Jeff took his hand off of her tit long enough to backhand her sharply across
the face.  "Shut up bitch," he growled at her, grabbing her by the hair.
"When I want you to talk, I'll ask you something.  Now get back to work."
With that he pulled her to his cock again.

Lenny was somewhat shocked by the violence that the former Mormon had just
displayed.  "Are you sure that she really wants me to do that?" he asked
timidly.

"I told you Len," he said, driving his hips in and out of her mouth now.
"She fuckin' loves it.  Now stick it up her ass and give it to her."

That was enough encouragement for Lenny.  He had been looking at that
puckered anus longingly the entire time that he had been fucking her.  He
pulled his cock from her semi-dry vagina and spit in his hand, rubbing more
lubrication on it.  He then placed the head against the bud of her asshole
and began to push.

"Yeah Len!" Jeff said enthusiastically as Mitsy grunted in pain around his
dick.  "You the man motherfucker.  Give it to the bitch!"

He gave it to her, pushing as hard as he could until he was buried to the
hilt in her ass.  It was the tightest orifice that he had ever been in in
his life, so tight that it was difficult to move in and out of it.
Nevertheless he gave it the old college try.  Mitsy grunted with each thrust
and after a few moments, she loosened up a little and got somewhat used to
his presence.  He began to pick up the pace as it began to feel better.  He
was actually fucking Mitsy up the ass!  That very thought started the wheels
of orgasm into motion.

Just as the sensation of inevitable blast-off started to hit him, he saw
something come flying through the window out of the corner of his eye,
something that looked strangely like a red and black spray can.  Before that
even registered completely, another one followed it.

Jeff, who was facing the window, saw it too.  Mitsy, who had her eyes closed
and her mouth full of cock, did not.

Nobody had time to even become alarmed.  The cans both landed just to the
side of the bed and both exploded less than a second apart with sharp cracks
of surprising loudness.  Shrapnel from the aluminum that made up the cans
sprayed everywhere and Lenny took the brunt of it.  Razor sharp shards
sliced into his back, his legs, his neck, and the side of his face.  His
left eyeball was ripped right out of its socket and a large flap of his
cheek was peeled away with almost surgical precision.  Another piece sliced
neatly through the carotid artery on the left side of his neck before
cutting his trachea neatly in two.  He fell to the floor in a bloody heap,
his consciousness fading away before the poison that had been released into
the room could even affect him.

Mitsy and Jeff were not so lucky.  Though both of them were peppered with
shrapnel - Mitsy all over her left hip and flank, Jeff all over his chest
and stomach - and although Mitsy in reflexive surprise had bitten down on
Jeff's penis nearly hard enough to sever it, neither had been hit in a vital
area.  Mitsy, dazed and bleeding, fell to the right on the bed.  Jeff,
holding his injured and hemorrhaging dick with both hands, fell backwards.
By the time it occurred to them a few seconds later that they were under
attack, it was already too late.  The pesticide fumes filled the air in the
small bedroom and penetrated their lungs, entering the bloodstream via
respiration.  It was also soaked in through their very pores, the process
made even easier by the fact that they were naked and bleeding.

Both of them tried to crawl to the radio.  Neither of them made it more than
a foot before their parasympathetic nervous system rebelled in a big way
causing them to simultaneously vomit, defecate, and urinate uncontrollably.
They began to choke on their own vomit and a few seconds later, they began
to convulse, their bodies flopping around where they lie like fish out of
water.  It was an agonizing death but thankfully it was a quick one.  Less
than a minute after the cans had flown in the window, while Bill and the
rest of his men were kicking in the front door to clear the building, both
of them were dead.


+++++


Michelle heard the small beep come from her wristwatch, indicating that it
was the top of the hour.  She was looking out over the wall, tossing a few
ideas - none of which seemed to have much merit - about the Jason and Stacy
problem around in her head.  Brenda, who was sitting on the bed behind her,
painting her fingernails, was chattering on and on about Hector and how she
was beginning to suspect that maybe - just MAYBE mind you - he was leading
her on.  She was about to offer a mildly snide comment about Brenda's powers
of deduction when her eyes locked onto a sudden movement directly below her
window.  Someone had just been right beneath them and was now stepping out
into the open.

Brett, in their firearm training outside the wall, had made them work
extensively with the pistols that they carried. He had done to his guards
what the instructors at the San Joaquin County Sheriff's Academy had done to
him over the course of his tenure there.  He had made it an instinct to draw
their pistol whenever danger presented itself suddenly from close quarters.
Michelle's .45 was out of her holster and pointing out the window before she
even realized what she was looking at.

All she saw was a dirty, bearded man, which meant he was a straggler.  He
had somehow gotten inside the wall and right up to her position, which meant
he was dangerous.  He had something - she did not have time to identify it -
in his hand and he was cocking his arm back to throw it at her.  Her brain
quickly processed all of this and came to the firm conclusion that she was
in mortal danger.  Without pausing to send this information to her higher
brain, where it could mulled over and completely analyzed before a decision
was made, the lower part of her brain, the part concerned with basic
survival instincts, commanded her to fire the gun.  She pointed it at the
center mass of the man and began pulling the trigger.

Brenda screamed behind her as the gun in Michelle's hand began to explode
with noise and expended shell casings began to fly around the room.
Michelle had no idea how many times she shot him but she clearly saw bullets
impacting his chest and spraying blood out behind him.  Just as he started
to drop, just as the object that he had been about to throw fell from his
hand, another figure emerged right behind him.  He too had an object in his
hand and he too quickly turned and prepared to hurl it.

Before she could shift her fire to him or even properly process the fact
that he was a new threat, the Raid-bomb from the first man hit the driveway
and detonated.  Some of the shrapnel and the fumes managed to blast upward
towards Michelle.  She felt a sting in her right arm as a piece of aluminum
sliced into it.  The gun dropped from her hand and clattered to the ground
below.  But the majority of the blast hit the two people on the ground.  The
one she had shot was falling forward at the time and took much of it in the
chest.  The one about to throw the second bomb felt metal slice into his
ankles and thighs.  His arm was halfway through the throwing motion when the
explosion occurred but it was just enough to throw his aim off.  His bomb
flew upward and struck the side of the house two feet to the right of the
window, exploding almost harmlessly ten feet up.

+++++


John Kramer, who, along with the rest of his force, was positioned thirty
feet away along the fence line to the side of the house, watched helplessly
as his carefully formulated plan began to fall apart.  First that idiot
falling off the wall early that morning when they had penetrated, almost
giving them away, and now this.  How had that guard in there shot so
quickly?  How could anybody react that fast?  Now one of his men was dead on
the ground and the other was already starting to choke and gag from the
effects of the insecticide cloud that was enveloping him.  And the two armed
guards in that house were still alive.  They would be calling in to the
community center any moment on their walkie-talkies.

"Shoot them through the wall," Kramer barked at his men.  He pointed to the
side of the house above the garage.  "They're right behind that wall!
Everybody!  Start shooting!"

With almost military precision they swung their hunting rifles upward,
knowing that the .30 caliber, high velocity bullets would punch through the
thin layer of plaster and sheetrock as easily as a BB fired from a child's
gun would punch through a sheet of paper.  They began to fire.


+++++



Brenda was still screaming as the noxious fumes of the pesticide started to
penetrate through the open window.  Michelle yelled at her to shut the fuck
up (which she did not do) and took a moment to look at her wrist.  There was
a piece of thin, black metal protruding from the side of it, about half an
inch sticking out.  Blood was oozing slowly around the sides.  She moved all
of her fingers and found that they still worked as they were supposed to.
She pulled the metal free and threw it to the floor, an act that caused the
bleeding to increase.

Outside, the second attacker, the one who had thrown the can against the
side of the house, had fallen to the ground and was convulsing rather
grotesquely.  Even from fifteen feet away, even over the odor of the
pesticide itself, she could smell the sharp stench of feces rising up.
Nerve gas of some kind, her well-read mind told her.  That was what they had
tried to attack with although both of the bomb throwers also had rifles.
Who the fuck were these people and how many of them were out there?

Dripping blood on the floor, she picked up the M-16 from its place with one
hand and the rifle with the other.  She tried to hand Brenda the rifle but
she was in complete hysterics and wouldn't take it.

"Brenda, goddammit, someone's trying to attack us!  Take the fucking rifle!"

"Ahhhh, ohhhh goddd, ohhhh goddddd!"

"Shit," she muttered, throwing the rifle to the ground and starting to head
for the radio.  Just then there was a pop from behind her and something
whizzed over her shoulder.  It was quickly followed by five or six other
pops and whizzes and holes began to appear in the ceiling and the upper part
of the wall.  Just as this registered, the sound of gunshots from outside
reached her and she realized that she was being shot at.  Terrified, but
still acting instinctively, she threw herself to the carpet.  "Brenda," she
yelled, seeing with horror that she was still standing and screaming.  "Get
down!"

Brenda got down, but not because of voluntary action.  Though the first
volley of shots from the outside missed her cleanly, the second volley did
not.  Two of the high caliber bullets hit her, one in the chest, the other
in the throat.  She fell to the ground in a heap, gagging and gurgling.

"Brenda!"  Michelle yelled, knowing by the way that blood was pouring onto
the carpet that there was nothing to be done.  "Shit!"

The gunshots continued to echo from outside and the bullets continued to fly
through the plaster and whiz through the air above her.  How many fucking
people were shooting out there?  She needed to get the fuck out of that
room, but first she needed to report what was going on.  She began to
belly-crawl over the carpet towards the window, where the walkie-talkie was,
dragging the M-16 behind her.  As she reached up to grab it, one of the
bullets whizzed so close to her hand that she was able to feel the wind of
its passage.

"Jesus," she said, bringing her hand back down and instead rocking the table
until the radio fell off.  She picked it up quickly, fumbling with it for a
moment and trying to orient it towards her face.  Just as she was about to
key up, the gunfire abruptly stopped.  It did not taper off, it just stopped
instantly, as if a switch had been thrown.


+++++


"Hold your fire!"  John had yelled at his men an instant before.  Used to
following orders from him, they had done just that, lowering their weapons a
bit.

"We probably hit them," he said, projecting more confidence than he felt.
Though logically the bullets should have hit anyone in that room at least
once, he was smart enough to know that once things started to go wrong, the
trend usually continued.  "But we need to be sure.  Main group, reload as
fast as you can.  Jed," he said, pointing at one of the better men of his
group.  "Get your pistol out and let's clear that house!  We're moving in!"

They pulled their sidearms, letting their rifles hang from their shoulders,
and started to move in.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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