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Subject: {ASSM} girl patrol, chapter nine
Date: Mon, 10 Sep 2001 14:10:04 -0400
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                                        Andrew Roller Presents
 
                                                GIRL PATROL

                                                Chapter Nine

         We got down to the bottom of the bluff.  The girls were
panting, looking delicious in their Frederick's of Hollywood lingerie. 
Kim's breasts, like the rest of her body, were moist with her sweat. 
Her cones jiggled sweetly.  Jan's seemingly competed with hers.  Little
Becky's puffies still waiting to grow big enough to be tempting.  Her
chest heaved with boyish expansions and contractions.
         I had no time to admire my three junior sweethearts' naked
tits.  Hearing the werewolf's gun going off again, I hastily zipped up
our ammo bag.  Our guns would fire even if they were wet; we'd been
rained on enough to find that out.  But the ammo and matches were
another problem.  And there was one worse problem; if we fled into the
river, I couldn't carry the bag.
         "Find a log!" Kim told the girls.  Meanwhile I rolled the ammo
bag off the weedy swamp and into the water.  I followed it into the
river, pushing on it until it was completely submerged.  It would be no
use leaving the bag on land, the werewolves would be sure to catch the
scent of it.  Our only hope was that we could somehow survive their
attack and come back for our bag.  I certainly didn't intend on just
leaving the thing and arming the wolves.
         The girls came rolling an old log toward me.  It looked like it
had been in the river before.  It must have fallen in upstream and
floated down, then got caught down here, for it was very weathered, a
driftwood log.
         "Put it in the water," Kim ordered, and she and the three girls
sent the thing into the water.  To our immense relief it floated; a
second later a bullet came screaming down into the water near it, making
a splash.
         "Damn!  They're almost here!" Jan cried.  She turned.  She saw
a wolf and opened up with her Uzi.  Wisely, she gave a short burst; we
had no way to reload now with our ammo bag somewhere under the river's
surface.
         "Come on, Jan!" I yelled as Kim and Becky dove into the water. 
I would have loved to play hero and hold the wolves off while the three
girls made their escape, but I had no gun.  I grabbed Jan's arm and
pulled on it.  I wasn't about to leave her standing on the bank while I,
a grown man, went swimming off down the river.  Such are the problems, I
suppose, when you're a nice pedophile.  John Wayne probably would have
ripped the Uzi out of Jan's hand, or insisted on carrying it himself all
along, but I wasn't about to do that.  So I pulled on Jan's arm again
and, when she still insisted on staying by the riverside, providing us
with cover, I picked her up, bodily.
         "Hey!" Jan cried.
         "I'm not leaving you!" I told her.  I waded into the river. 
Jan babbled something about giving us cover and I told her this wasn't
Vietnam, or whatever fantasy she had going on in her head at the moment,
and she wasn't a soldier.  She was just a little girl and for once I was
going to actually treat her like one.  "Grab the log!  Grab the fucking
log!" I told Jan, as I got chest deep into the water.  More bullets hit
the river.  Kim and Becky had managed to grab onto the log and were
floating away on it.  Jan and I had to get to it.  I told Jan to reach
out for it again as I lost my footing on the river bottom.  We swam for
it, me making sure Jan stayed in front of me.  Finally she managed to
catch the log and grab it.  As soon as she did she turned around and let
loose with another blast of her Uzi.
         "Owww!" I cried.  The damn thing was loud and she was
practically shooting it next to my ear.  I dipped briefly underwater.  I
came up on the other side of the log, where Becky and Kim were
positioned, half-hiding behind the wood, as I'd intended, as more
bullets came splashing down from the werewolves.  "Jan!  Get on this
side of the log!" I cried over the top of the thing.  She was still on
the other side, her head fully exposed to the werewolves' fire.  Kim got
round Becky on our side.  Then she helpfully reached over the log and
snagged Jan's machine gun.  Reluctantly Jan let her have the Uzi, then
began coming around, pulling herself with both free hands on the broken
end of the log.  "God, I hope they can't swim!" I said.  I looked over
the top of the log.  The werewolves were scrambling like fast dogs down
the bluff leading to the edge of the river.  One of them paused and
fired at us again; for the first time, a bullet hit our log.
         "Yikes!" Jan cried.  Tears came to Becky's eyes; she was
frightened, her big eyes peering at me as she clutched onto our log.  I
told Kim to level her shotgun on the top of the log and try firing, but
she was already at it, aiming with the gun.
         "Reach up and hold down the top of it so the recoil wouldn't
blow it out of my hand," Kim ordered me, holding onto the log with her
other hand.  I did as she asked, scared to death that a bullet from the
werewolves would hit my hand and render me a cripple.  With my arm and
hand exposed on the top of the log, Kim tried bobbing in time with the
up and down movement of her gun.  But it was no use; the wolves were
still too far away for her shotgun.
         And then disaster struck.  It might seem like we were already
in a bad situation, sitting ducks in the middle of the river, hunkering
down behind a piece of floating driftwood.  But now one of the
werewolves, after showing just a tad of hesitancy along the water's
edge, went splashing in.  Although he proved to be an awkward swimmer,
doing a kind of nervous dog paddle, he came at us with strong strokes. 
Worse, he proved an example to his fellows, who came jumping in after
him.  The wolf with the gun stayed on shore, shooting over their heads
at us.  And then, suddenly, the damn creature ran out of ammo.  He
looked at his rifle.  He seemed disgusted with it for not working.  For
a moment I thought it had jammed but our guns never had; when I realized
that the wolf had shot his entire load and had nothing more to put in it
I laughed.  His claws worked, always.  His legs, his arms.  He was not
used to something ceasing to work when it looked perfectly work-able.  I
prayed he wouldn't find our ammo bag under the river.  Then, suddenly,
he hurled the gun at us, and then dove in after his buddies to rely on
what he'd always relied on, his powerful arms and legs.
         "Dumb fuck," I said, but we were in serious trouble.  The
wolves' snouts plowed toward us through the water.  They would catch us
for sure; we had no way of fending off six wolves in deep water like
this.  Or shallow water, for that matter.  Our whole plan had relied on
the idea that the werewolves couldn't, or wouldn't, swim.  Now we were
learning a new fact about life in earth's farthest future:  although
hesitant, wolves, if sufficiently angry, were willing to jump into
water.  And these wolves were angry; we'd successfully killed several of
them, one at a time of course, and now they wanted revenge.  As I
watched their snouts grow closer, their claws plowing the water, I
didn't know what to do.  For a moment I prayed that this was somehow all
a nightmare, like all of us had prayed so many times in our first days'
here, especially at night, before we met the medium.  We'd been very
lucky in those first days.  Despite much weeping and crying we'd
happened to land somewhere that vampires and werewolves didn't happen to
be; by the time we started encountering them we happened upon the medium
and she proved to be very generous.  Or a very good payer for
information about the past, however you wanted to view the matter.
         "Shit!  What are we going to do?" Kim screamed.  I lifted my
hand back up to the top of the log and steadied her gun.
         "Fire at will," I told her.
         "That's not going to hit all six of them!" Kim screamed at me.
         "Don't shoot `til you see the whites of their eyes," I told
her, remembering some lesson from the American revolution, when our
soldiers had been vastly outnumbered and outgunned.  Kim got my point;
she held her gun level at the water in front of us until a wolf got well
within range.  Then, suddenly, with a roar, aiming carefully, she let
him have it.  My hand on top of her shotgun kept it from flying out of
her hand.  Kim hit the wolf straight on; his head was there one second
and the next there was an explosion of blood and bone.  We didn't see
him anymore.  Five to go.
         But it was too late.  Waiting for the one wolf to close within
a decent range of Kim' shotgun had given the others time to come in all
the way.  Suddenly they were upon us.  One grabbed me.  I had no gun and
went under immediately; a moment later I managed to surface, only to
thrash around with the beast.  Kim was hit next; she went down, but not
without managing to get her shotgun round and blast the creature
attacking her.  She hit him straight in the chest; he gaped at her as
his lungs exploded.
         Jan scrambled up on top of the log.  Meanwhile Becky was the
wisest of us, or the most frightened.  She ducked under the water,
fishlike, before any of the wolves could grab her.  And then suddenly,
swimming under the river's surface, a good foot or two down, she came up
with the most marvellous plan.  She began firing at the various wolves. 
They weren't hard to spot, even under the water.  They were big hairy
fuckers; my only worry was that she might mistake me for one of the
wolves, as I was entangled with one and something of a big hairy fucker
myself, though not quite as hairy, especially on the top of my bald
head!
         Blam!  Blam!  The Magnum Becky was holding went, picking off
the wolves:  first one, then another.  As she had dropped under water on
her own initiative she was busily holding her breath, not gasping for
breath like I was.  I admired her, such a little thing, swimming around
down there like some deadly little mermaid.  And then she was up again,
out of breath, but we were down to only two wolves.
         One kept yanking me under, only to have me come spluttering
back up.  The fear of drowning seemed to be giving me extra strength,
although nowhere near that which the wolf had.  And then suddenly our
second miracle kicked in.  As a wolf grabbed for Jan, on top of the log,
she jumped.  It's what any person would do, I suppose.  But the nature
of her jumping was such that suddenly she was paddling around in the
air:  we were out of the dead zone!
         "I can fly!" Jan cried, startled at this sudden development. 
She aimed her Uzi, which fortunately was still partly loaded with
ammunition.  And then she fired, hitting the wolf who was right under
her, splitting his head open with a spray of bullets.
         Only I remained, the great adult hero, tangling with the a wolf
who was uninjured and too wrapped up with me for any of the girls to get
a good shot at him.  Jan tried air-paddling over to us, but even she,
hovering close, couldn't find a way to hit the wolf without hitting me. 
Then she thought she had a shot a fired; a spray of bullets hit the
water, nearly putting holes in my head.  And then she was out of ammo. 
Kim tried aiming her shotgun, but I saw and screamed at her not to use
it.  That thing, as anyone who's used a similar type back in our own
time knows, is like a mini cannon.  There is no precision shooting with
it and you definitely do not want to be three feet in front of the damn
thing when it goes off.  Little Becky tried swimming around down under
us; I prayed she wouldn't blow my dick off with her Magnum!
         No, it was up to me, and I was rapidly running out of energy as
the wolf thrashed me under water again.  I struggled; I tried kneeing
him in the stomach or groin (not for the first time), but he only took
the blow and kept on coming in at me, tearing at me with his claws.  I
had a gash on my face, another on my chest, and on an arm and leg. 
Suddenly I remembered how the wolves were hesitant to come in the water
in the first place.  When next in our struggle I came up for air, I
gulped in as much as I could.  Then I went under with him, yet again,
and this time I intended to stay down forever.
         More or less, meaning I wasn't coming up for air so desperately
anymore.  I had my lungful and I was just going to stay under.  With my
ardent companion, of course.  I watched his eyes as we fought.  He
hadn't been bright enough to actually think about living under the
water, being under it, like little Becky the fish.  He was all brawn and
muscle.  But I was ironic, sarcastic, wicked if need be.  Did he want me
so badly?  Fine, he could have me.  I'd even hang on to him and pull him
down with me.  We'd just stay under the water together, forever.  It
would become our lovely tomb.
         God, did he struggle in those final moments when he realized
what I was doing.  He hadn't grabbed air intentionally like I had.  He
was just a floundering, very powerful dog.  I concentrated on holding
him down, not caring how much he gashed at me.  In fact I hugged him,
bodily.  By keeping him close to me I cut down on his slashing ability. 
Deeper we sank, and gradually his struggles lessened.  I wasn't coming
up again until he was dead, even if my lungs burst; this much I'd
vowed.  At last he grew limp.  With my lungs screaming for air I stayed
down just a little longer, torturing myself, drawing myself close to
death, but making sure my companion was truly drowned.  Then suddenly up
I came, dashing for the surface, and for a moment I was disoriented: 
where was it?  Then I saw it, gleaming dimly above me.  When I made out
the girls' wiggling feet my heart leaped for joy.  Their boots that I'd
made for them were lost; but it was no matter, their little feet drew me
to safety.  I burst from the river, gasping.
         "You're alive!" the girls cried.  
         "Yes," I said, my lungs heaving.  Kim swam over to me and
hugged me.  Jan alighted down onto the top of the log and bent down and
kissed the top of my head as I drew myself up along the driftwood. 
Becky swam up and kissed me too, but no sooner had we begun to relax
than Becky let out a scream.
         "Cuddles!" she cried.  We looked at her and then looked
around.  The river was moving swiftly now, we were out in the middle of
it.
         "Oh my God," I said.  I had been the last to hold the bear, in
fact, I grabbed it when Becky dropped it.  But now where was Cuddles? 
Becky began crying profusely.  We'd been through a lot; this was, for
her, the final straw.
         "Oh, I hate this place!  I hate this place!" Becky shouted. 
The river seemed not to care, flowing around us, pushing us along like
the driftwood we were clinging to.
         "We'll... do something," I tried to reassure her.   But I had
no idea what.  My head was still spinning from the wolf attack.
         "I don't want to do something, I want Cuddles!" Becky
insisted.  "And I want to go home!"

30

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-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
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