guerrilla war

Bob Gunderson walked into the Hall, looking more fit and well fed than he had a few weeks ago when he’d brought his village into the shelter. He walked over to the table, grabbing a cup of coffee, and then came over to talk to Jim.

“Art, what the hell are you doin’ here?” he asked, seeing his friend from the village north of his.

Art looked up, stunned. It was his old friend, surely… but looking healthier than he had in years.

“Bob! They told me you were here, but I wasn’t sure I believed ‘em! How are you?”

“I’m fine, old friend. Hell, better’n fine, now that I’m here. Are your people comin’ to live here?”

“Well, there ain’t but eleven of us here, now… it was all that fit in that truck. There’s still twenty eight, back in town.” He shot a look at Archer, wondering if he’d said too much.

Gunderson caught the look and smiled.

“You don’t need to worry about Mister Archer. He’s a good man. He’s the one who brought us here, gave us homes, food, clothes, jobs to do. You can trust him.”

Art shot a look at Jim, nodding. If Bob Gunderson trusted him, that was good enough.

Jim smiled. “We had to, Bob…. hell, I can’t stand seeing Americans mistreated, like those punks did you.”

He paused in thought for a moment.

“Mister Perry, do you think the rest of the people in your village would come here to live, given the chance?”

“If they don’t, I’d have to guess they had something wrong up here.” he replied, tapping his temple.

“Ok… will you go with a few of my people, up to your village? You can tell them they can relocate here, and my people can drive the trucks and offer some protection from the Chinese. I’ll see to getting the apartments ready for you folks.”

“Alright, but… what about our animals? We’ve got cows and chickens, and a few pigs. We can’t just leave them to starve to death.”

“Just leave the gates open… they’ll go out and find places to graze, and they know where their home is. They’ll come back.”

He called his wife, asking her to come down.

Jan Archer listened as her husband explained what he wanted, then got on her phone with the housing office, learning that there were more apartments open than she’d originally thought… more than enough to take in an additional forty people.

She instructed them to see to it that they were all properly stocked with the essentials, and the keys for each of them brought down to the Hall.

Jim, Bob, and Art made plans to head up to the village that night, while the Chinese would, hopefully, be ensconced in their base. If they worked it right, they could have the entire village relocated to the Cave and the families set up in apartments by dawn.

He wondered, for a moment, what the soldiers would think of the population of the village disappearing overnight…. until he realized that he didn’t much care what they thought.

Six trucks rolled out of the Cave, thirty minutes later; by sunrise, the last of them were rolling back in, and a clean up crew was at work, obliterating the tire tracks that led from the pathway to their door.

Within another two hours, everyone was situated in apartments and bedded down for the morning. By the midafternoon, the newcomers were awake and assembled in the Hall, and Jim, Art, and Bob were addressing them.

Jim looked them over for a moment before speaking.

“Welcome, folks. We’re glad you’re here. As some of you already know, I’m Jim Archer, and I kinda lead this city. We’re a free society; the Chinese don’t know we exist, though some of ‘em have found out… just before they died.”

The villagers were now looking back and forth at each other, the looks on their faces reflecting everything from amusement to alarm to fear and worry. People who killed soldiers were generally hunted down and killed.

“Now… you might have guessed this, but I’ll tell you anyway-everybody, and I mean everybody, save for the very young and the very old- has some sort of job in here. You can work with the kitchen staff, you can help out the elderly, doing their grocery shopping, cooking, and whatnot, you can help out on the farms, taking care of the animals and the fields, whatever you’re best at. We work on a basis of accounts here… what you do to help out earns you credits that can be spent on foods in the grocery warehouses, sporting goods and other things in the general store warehouse, at the bars and restaurants, of which we have several, and the dispensary. The apartments you moved into when you got here were stocked with about three months of food; when that runs out, you’ll have to buy more with the credits you build up.”

He paused a moment to let that sink in, taking the chance to take a sip of his coffee.

“For your first few months or so, you will have guides, to show you where things are at, what’s what in the way of groceries–those things you haven’t seen before, at any rate– and to teach you how to use the things in those apartments that you don’t understand right now.”

He took another sip of coffee before continuing.

“We will also teach you how to read and write, and work with numbers, so you can manage how many credits you’ve built up and keep yourselves within your budgets.”

A younger man, towards the back of the crowd, stood up and asked “Will you teach us to fight?”

Archer nodded. “If that’s what you want, sure… but keep in mind–we’re playing for keeps. These Chinese punks have taken our country, so they tell me. We’re going to take it back, no matter how long it takes… and I expect it to take quite some time. I don’t care. This is America, not Communist China part 2. If you join us in this, you’d best be prepared to live up to that. We will not give up, ever. We will fight until we’re wiped out to the last man, or our country is ours again.”

“Ok… count me in.”

Archer peered closely at the kid. “Son, how old are you?”

“I’m 17, Sir.”

“Well, you’re a little old to start the training, but we’ll take whoever we can get.” he replied with a grin.

The session with the Chinese officer turned out to be a bit more fruitful than they had hoped for; morale at the Chinese bases was uniformly lousy, with soldiers constantly trying to either fake an illness of their own or claiming a relative was direly ill, anything to get sent home. Even with the fresh food taken from the numerous villages, the women in what the soldiers referred to as their ‘private brothel’, and the minimal resistance they faced, many were still dissatisfied; most were simply homesick. They had all left friends and family behind, and many had wives and children in China.

Much of their equipment was old and poorly maintained. The two “Hind” Helicopters at their base were barely flyable, and three of their five heavy tanks had not run in at least three years. The AK-47 rifles his soldiers carried were well over fifty years old, and he himself had discarded his Chinese made nine millimeter pistol in favor of an American made Colt .45 ACP as soon as he’d found one in the arsenal of an old police station.

Leeanne lay back in the bed, her head on Gar’s shoulder, and sighed deeply in post-orgasmic bliss. He kissed her on the forehead, lightly and said “You ok, babe?

She looked up at him and grinned. “I am now.”

He smiled and rubbed her slightly bulging tummy. “I guess this has something to do with it.”

She grinned back at him. “A bit, yeah…. but I think it has something to do with work, too.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s going on?”

“You know that girl I’ve been counseling?”

“That one from the village? What was her name? Billie Jean?”

“That’s her… the one who was raped by the soldiers, just before we brought them in to the Cave.”

“Ok, what about her?”

“She isn’t afraid of men, so much, anymore. Jim Archer came into the office earlier today, during a session, and she didn’t cringe away from him. Matter of fact, she almost seemed happy to see him.”

“You must be doing some good for her, then.”

“Maybe…. but I think there’s something else going on…. I know she spent the day down at the lake with Mickey Miller, Cassie, and Doris the other day. I think maybe they did something with her. She doesn’t seem too afraid anymore.”

He grinned at her. “You think maybe she got laid properly?”

“I don’t know… but I know those three are a threesome. Maybe they seduced her.”

“Well, if it helps, and she starts getting comfortable around men again, it’s a good thing, right?”

“I suppose…. I just don’t want her getting hurt again.”

“Honey, how old is she?”

“She’s eighteen, and yes, I know, that’s old enough that she should be dating. You’ve gotta remember, though… until she came here, she had a pretty rough time of it. From what she’s said, during our sessions, she’s been raped more than once by those soldier bastards. The only guy who’s ever really been good to her is her dad. She needs more interaction with young men her own age. I’m just afraid she’s too naive to handle too much at once.”

“Well… you know, the kids haven’t had a dance, or anything like that, in quite a while. Maybe it’s about time they did. Let the villagers and the Cave kids get to know one another.”

“You think that would help? Really?”

“Honey, the newcomers haven’t had much of a chance to mix with our kids. They need to meet each other, get acquainted. It’ll do both groups some good. Besides, it’ll add some fresh blood to the gene pool. Never a bad thing, that… and where else do they get a chance to meet, really? Most of the new kids, no matter their age, are still basically in first or second grade. Most of our kids, of the same age, are doing college level studying, or working full time. Let’s put them in one room, a little music, a little food, a little drink, a bit of pot, and let them mix for a night.”

“You might have something there… but no pot, just yet. I want them to get a good grounding in the basics before they start killing brain cells. “

“Ok, but you know what I mean… get them together and see what happens.”

“You really think she’ll find someone?”

“A natural redhead, with tits like hers? She’ll be beatin’ ‘em off with a stick!”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be looking at my tits!”

He grinned at her. “Babe, if I wasn’t lookin’, you’d think there was something wrong with me…. besides, I prefer women over girls. Well, one woman, anyway.”

He kissed her on the forehead.

“That, and you know that if you cheat on me, I’ll cut this off.” She replied, grabbing his semi hard cock.

“Now, now…. no need to threaten like that… besides, if you cut me off, you’d be ‘cut off’, too…. “

“Oh, I’m sure I could find someone, eventually.”

He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Maybe… but what would you do tonight?”

She slapped him lightly on his bare chest. “Ok, you win that one…”

“And? What do I win?”

“Well…. You haven’t given me any backdoor lovin’, lately.”

“Hmmm… is that an invitation, dear?”

She gave his cock a firm squeeze, stroking it lightly, and whispered in his ear “What do you think, lover?”

“Have we got any lube left?” he asked, reaching down and insinuating his middle finger into her tight anus, wiggling it around and opening up her little rosebud a little.

“It’s on your side, babe.”

He turned a bit, reaching to his nightstand and grabbing the small bottle. Squeezing a little out on his fingertip and sliding it into her ass, he spread it around a little, then spooned up to her, sliding his hardness into her tight rectum slowly as she gasped at the intrusion. Bottoming out in her ass, he reached around and massaged her tits as he started stroking into her ass slowly, letting her grow accustomed to the intrusion before picking up speed. It was an awkward position, but allowed him to nuzzle her neck below her ear and fondle her tits.

“Oh, God, babe! Harder!” she moaned as he picked up speed, and soon they were slamming against each other, him grunting on every stroke, while she moaned nonstop. She reached down, fingering her clit, triggering an orgasm, turning her head and kissing him hard before whispering “Doggie, dear?”

He smiled at her and replied “Arf arf.” with a grin, and pulled out of her for a moment so she could crawl up to her knees, grabbing the headboard with both hands.

He got to his knees behind her, fitting the head of his cock once more to her tight little hole, and slammed it all the way home in one stroke, eliciting a small squeal from her as he began pounding into her in earnest.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh ,OH! Give me that cock, babeeeeeee! Oh, yeah! Harder, honey I’m cummmming! Unnnghhhhhh!!” She screamed as another orgasm hit her hard, sending pussy juice streaming down the insides of her thighs. “MMMmmmmm….. Ohhhh…. give it to me honeeeeeeee!”

He couldn’t hold the pace for long, and she was squeezing him hard, inside her ass; soon, he was blasting ropes of his cum deep into her bowels. He slammed into her hard, a final time, and fondled a full tit as he kissed the back of her neck.

“God, I wish we’d gotten together sooner.” He breathed out, resting his cheek against her back for a long moment before pulling out his now shrinking dick.

He finally collapsed onto his back, and she laid down beside him, fitting herself to his side and laying her head on his shoulder, throwing an arm and a leg possessively across his body.

“We’re together now, baby… and I’m never letting you go.” she replied, kissing him on the jaw.

He turned his head to kiss her more thoroughly, replying “I know, honey…. you know I feel the same…. God, I love you.”

Phil Huett, Mark Miller, Tom Davidson, and Jim Archer drove the four big trucks straight into the next village, with Art Perry and Bob Gunderson riding along.

Art and Bob jumped out first, stepping inside to find the nervous villagers trying desperately to hide the big stewpots.

Art stepped into the lead, saying, “It’s ok, Riley…. we didn’t come to take food from you.”

“Art? What the hell are you doing here? And what are you doin’, ridin’ around with the soldiers?”

“They’re not soldiers, folks…. they’re friends. Would you care to meet them?”

A few people nodded, somewhat cautiously, Bob stepped back to the door and motioned them inside.

Jim and Phil walked into the gym building of the old school, looking around the room and nodding to the people there.

Stepping up beside Art and Bob, he turned to look over the villagers, certain that he had their full attention.

They, in turn, looked back at him, assessing the burly stranger within their midst. He was wearing an odd form of camouflage, as was his friend, and he was carrying what appeared to be several guns; a rifle strapped to his back and a pistol at his belt. He wore a cap that anyone more than a hundred and fifty years old would have recognized as a Marine Corps. cover, and what had once been known as Special Forces tiger stripe camo.

“Good evening, folks. My name is James Archer, and I’m from a small city, about a hundred miles south of here. We’re here to ask you if you’d like to move to a place where the Chinese can’t get to you, while we clean out that base to the north of you.”

This caused quite a stir, with people darting looks at each other all over room. Finally, the man Art had addressed as Riley stepped forward.

“What do you mean, Sir, ‘Clean out that base’?”

“We’re going to observe it for a week or so, assess the weaknesses, and then kill everyone on it, and destroy it.”

“Why? What did they do to you?”

“Mr. … Riley, is it?”

At the other man’s nod, he continued “Do they come here and take food away from you? Do they take your young women to use as sex slaves? Have they killed your young men without reason?”

The other man stroked his chin as he nodded. “There’s nothing we can do about it. That is the way of things here.”

Archer stared at him, stunned by his defeatist attitude.

“No, Sir, it isn’t. This is America. It is Not a colony of Communist China. It Is a country that was founded on a basis of free markets and a Constitutionally Limited Republic. It was founded on the idea that a man was free to make his own way in the world, and wasn’t considered a slave to some foreign invader punks.”

He paused for long moments, taking a canteen from his belt and taking a long swallow from it before continuing.

“The city we live in was founded upon the same basis. I’ve served as leader for the past ten years, but I’m elected… as a matter of fact, this is my last term in office, under our laws. I have an informal council, who meets with me on a semi regular basis, and I listen to them, as long as they make sense. Some decisions I make myself, others I discuss with the council for days or weeks at a time. When my term is up, I’ll turn the office over to whoever gets elected to replace me… and that gladly. We don’t follow any particular ideology; we don’t allow our elections to devolve into ‘popularity contests’….. we pick people based on what they do, not on what they say.”

“Everybody in our city, with the exception of the very young and the very old, works to earn their keep. We have teachers, farmers, mechanics, cooks and canners, bakers and gunsmiths, distillers and wine makers, people who care for the kids and do running for the elderly. Our children learn to read almost as soon as they can talk, and learn to hunt and take care of themselves before they become teen agers. Our city is well hidden, heavily armed, and we’re always training new people to fight by our sides. Nobody goes hungry, and everyone is cared for. We would like to ask you to join us. Discuss it amongst yourselves, decide what you wish to do, and let me know. I can only give you half an hour to decide; we want to be well away from here, before the sunrise.”

Looking around the room, seeing people already nodding in agreement, hearing the low buzz of their conversations, he knew they wouldn’t need a full half hour to decide… most of them had made their minds up before he’d finished speaking.

Within twenty minutes, the villagers had retrieved those things they wanted to take along, finished their evening meal, and were organized into equal sized groups to load into the four trucks.

A little over an hour later, they were back at the Cave, being led to the Great Hall.

Once again, there were tables set off to one side with food and drink. Art and Bob took the villagers to them, nodding to the servers and greeting a few of them by name, pointing out a few of their personal favorites to the newcomers and grabbing sandwiches and cups of juice for themselves.

Jim went through the usual welcome speech, had them split up into family groups, had volunteer guides join them, and sent them off to their new quarters. By daybreak, all were settled in for the time being, and life settled back into a routine for the next week.

Phil Huett led his small scouting party around the base, noting the fact that this one was much bigger than the last; most significant was the addition of a small airstrip, roughly a mile long, with a large attached hanger, from which protuded the nose of what appeared to be a fair sized cargo plane.

They split up into four, two man teams and went to four sides of the fenced-in base, taking digital photos of all the points of interest, including the control tower, the numerous guard towers, and the many buildings that made up the place. They also took note of the fact that this place was a bit more security conscious; there were regular guard patrols, complete with canines and their handlers.

They met up in the woods well to the north of the base and set up three small camoflage tents, using cut pine boughs and handfuls of twigs, branches, and leaves to break up the outlines further, and bedded down for part of the day.

In the late afternoon, they suited up and headed back to the enemy base, intent on filling up the fresh memory cards in their cameras with as many pictures as they could get.

They were in luck; the Chinese were all outside for some sort of assembly. They were being addressed by an officer who was walking up and down the rows of men, noting an unbuttoned collar here, an open holster there, making remarks to a subordinate who was following behind him, taking notes.

Phil counted two hundred and twenty men, including the two officers and the twenty men in the guard towers. This one would be a tougher nut to crack, obviously.

They spent an additional three days, talking numerous photos and notes, keeping track of guard patrols and when patrols left the compound to patrol the countryside, which direction they went in, which direction they came back from and how long they were gone, and what, if anything, they brought back with them.

The outside patrols were generally Humvee Pickups; mostly, they came back with bushels of fresh fruit and vegetables; two came back with freshly killed cows, and one came back with fresh deer; a doe and her fawn. Apparently, they didn’t turn their nose up at any kind of meat.

One came back with another form of ‘cargo’ entirely; two young women, perhaps twenty five years old. The two women were stripped right there in the middle of the camp, inspected by the base Commander, who then sent them, under guard, to one of the buildings off the open square where they’d held assembly, the day after the scouting team had arrived.

Phil shot a look at Billy Jackson, whose face was set in a mask of outrage; he caught the volatile man’s attention and shook his head.

“Not today, Brother.”

“But Sir…”

“I SAID, NOT TODAY, CORPORAL!” he replied, in what he thought of as his Command Voice. “I feel the same way, but there’s too damned many of them and not enough of us. We don’t carry enough ammo for eight of us to take on two hundred. Let’s get back to the truck, get this intel back to base. The Commander will want to do this right.”

Jackson nodded, knowing his team Seargent was right…. still, it galled him, knowing those young women would undoubtedly be raped multiple times by those bastards while the coming operation was being planned out. He took solace in the fact that his sharpshooting skills were among the best at the base…. he would be among those firing the first shots at the enemy…. and if he got an open shot at that ‘Commander’, he’d peel the little yellow bastard’s skull like a grape.

They made their way back to the small town, where they’d hidden their armored Humvee in an old warehouse building, and Phil mentally cursed.

There was a Chinese patrol there, standing before the now-open door of the building, looking over their transportation. From this distance, he also saw what had caught the enemy soldier’s attention. They had left fresh tire tracks in the dirt leading up to the building. A rookie mistake.

“Well, Jackson, it looks like you’ll get to kill someone, after all. Spread out, guys, north to south, and let’s get a bit closer. If anyone tries to get in our truck, he’s the first target. Low but quick, boys…. Go!”

Within two minutes, they were in position, and had chosen their targets. Within another thirty seconds, four Chinese soldiers dropped to the ground, bleeding from two rounds to the chest each.

Phil and Billy moved in, cutting each one’s throat for good measure. They swiftly pulled the corpses deeper into the old building, piling boxes and crates on top of them, and leaving them for the local wildlife to feed on after stripping them of their rifles, ammunition, and other equipment.

Jim Morris left them with the final insult, whipping out his dick and pissing on the pile of corpses before tossing the ancient wooden crate on top.

Huett checked the fuel gauge of the Humvee pick up the soldiers had been driving; it was almost full, and they had two full five gallon ‘jerry’ cans, besides.

“Jackson, you and Willis take this one, we’ll take the other two. We can always use an extra truck back at the base.”

Almost two hours later, they pulled into the motor pool, turned the enemy Humvee over to the mechanics for inspection, and headed to the control center to report in, turning over the cameras for downloading, and sat down with Jim for a long debriefing. Explaining each photo as it came up on the big video monitor, the scouting team was kept busy for quite a while, consulting their notes as they went.

When they came to the pictures of the two young women, Jim became visibly angry, his knuckles going white as he gripped the edge of the table. Huett noticed it, nodding.

“I know…. I had to almost physically restrain Jackson from shooting the little bastard right then and there.”

“Why did you?”

“Eight of us, two hundred of them… not good odds. Besides, that so-called ‘officer’ was standing right in front of one of the girls. I didn’t want to get her killed.”

Jim calmed a bit, nodding. “Ok, it was a good call…. although I wish I’d been there. You were right, though… it might have given away your position and gotten you all killed.”

He rubbed his chin in thought for long moments and said “Ok, guys, go get some proper chow and some decent sleep. We’ll have a council meeting in six hours, and I’ll want all of you there to answer questions about anything I might have missed. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Three hours later, his wife and four other computer techs had turned the numerous photos into a workable map of the base, and they had a fair idea of what they were up against. This one wasn’t going to be easy. He guessed they would need at least twice as many troops as they’d used in their first operation, and even then, considering the dogs, with their keen hearing and sense of smell, it would be pretty dicey. They’d have to encircle the base from a much wider distance, and then move in from all four sides, simultaneously and quickly.

John Tyler picked up the phone at the training range. “Tyler.”

“John, it’s Jim Archer… How goes it?”

“It goes, Sir…. something on your mind?”

“Yup…. how many competent snipers do we have, currently? People who know how to factor in wind drift, figure their ballistics perfectly, that sort of thing?”

“Oh…. probably a thousand, Sir, maybe a bit more…. how many do you need?”

“Pick out your top eight hundred, people who can shoot in low light, tell them to give their rifles a good cleaning, and get their magazines loaded up. Make sure they each have at least…. oh, two, maybe three hundred rounds ready to go. Silenced rifles, of course, and silenced sidearms. Tell them to draw ration bars for at least a five day operation, bladder canteens, dark tiger stripe camo, veiled covers or boonie hats, the works. I want them booted and suited by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have further instructions within ten hours.”

“Yes Sir…. anything else?”

“I can’t think of it, but I know there’s something I’m missing…..”

“Are there any hostages on this one, Sir?”

“Yes, that’s what I was trying to remember! Thanks! Make sure there are at least a dozen women, with bolt cutters, extra clothing in their packs, and a few extra food bars. Oh, yeah…. I want you to sit in on the council meeting and the planning session, in the council room. The scouting party will be there, too, so we won’t have to wait for answers. That’s going to be…. three and a half hours from now.”

Huett and his team were the last ones to show up at the meeting, and the next two hours were lively, to say the least…. especially when John Morris’ final ‘contribution’ was idly mentioned.

Johnny Corcoran shot a look at Morris. “Couldn’t help it, huh?”

Morris grinned. “Hey, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go. Besides, I was marking my territory…. which should bring in the feral dogs. Nature can take it’s course.”

Several of the women turned decidedly green as the implications of his remark sunk in.

Jim let the gallows humor continue for a moment, smiling a bit himself at this, then cleared his throat.

“Ok, people, the question remains, how are we going to do this? A one nighter, or do we do something a bit more…. frightening?”

Huett spoke up. “What do you mean, Sir?”

“Well, I like the idea of a quick, all encompassing strike. But…. what about this? Kill all of the guards in the towers and the foot patrols, including the dogs, then fall back about thirty, forty miles… let ‘em stew for a week or so, then hit them the same way. We know they’re already demoralized… we could build on that. Scare the hell out of them, a bunch of ghosts that take out their guards and vanish. A week later, it happens again. Maybe rig a few trip wire mines to their gates, Claymores or something similar. A few dozen ‘Bouncing Betties’, set fifty, sixty yards down the road from the main gates. More tripwired Claymores across every deer path heading into those forests… inside of three months, we could have them running in circles.”

Huett nodded, an evil grin on his face.

“I like it, but…. you know, they could call for reinforcements.”

Archer nodded. “That’s the fly in the ointment. I’m leaning more towards the ‘take ‘em all out in one night’ thing, but I wanted to float the other possibility too, just to get some opinions.”

Corcoran nodded. “I like the idea, but let’s stick to the original for this one. This is a much bigger base, and the idea of our people having to hike in from that far out doesn’t really do it for me, Y’know?”

Archer nodded again, then shot a look at Tyler.

“Johnny, what about the village civilian troops? Where are they at, at the moment?”

“They’re enthusiastic, I’ll give them that, but I want to keep them in Basic for a few more months. They’re farmers…. it’s going to be a while before we’ll really be able to count on them as anything but cannon fodder. Sending them into combat now…. hell, it would be kinder to just shoot them ourselves.”

Corcoran looked up at this. “We can always use them as back up guards here, free up more of our people for this op. We’ve got three more bases in this state; they’ll see combat, eventually, there’s no doubt of that. We could probably keep them in training until next spring. We can do a bit more recruiting, too, from the group we just brought in. Hell, we still need to finish teaching that first group how to read, to say nothing of the driving and flight simulators.”

Archer frowned at this. “How many pilots could we field, right now, if we had to?”

Jim Miller looked up at this, after consulting his notes. “Maybe a hundred, for the prop planes… another hundred on jets, which, by the way, is about twice what we actually have planes for. Same thing goes for chopper pilots, for that matter. We’ve got more tank and APC crews than we have equipment for, especially for the Shermans and Pattons. We’ve also got some new stuff that R&D have been working on.”

Archer raised an eyebrow at this, and Corcoran nodded. “I sent them a challenge a few months ago, to build something bigger, patterned after the Browning M2… What they came up with, well…. let’s just say it’s what the founder would have called ‘Not quite ready for prime time’. Friggin’ thing’s a monster”.

Archer grinned. “How big?”

“The base of the bullet is an inch and three quarters across, and the bullet, without the shell casing, is a bit over four and a half inches long. The primer itself is three quarters of an inch wide, and the nose of the bullet has another primer, about three-eighths of an inch wide. That faces into an ounce of black powder inside the bullet itself, which in turn triggers a sixteenth of an ounce of plastic explosives…. a test fire, ten rounds, turned a six ton boulder into gravel. We’ve got an APC with two of ‘em mounted, one on either side, armored feed belt going in the top and a discharge chute for the spent cartridges feeding back to a bin inside the APC so they can be reloaded… it has a low rate of fire, about twenty rounds a minute, but a ten second burst will turn a Humvee into a pile of scrap metal. One of the machine shops is turning out ammo for them around the clock. It’s a good thing the founder stocked so much brass stock. They’re turned from brass cylinders two inches wide and five inches long. The foundry melts down the scrap and recasts it into more cylinders.”

Archer grinned and replied “And you were going to tell me about this When?”

“Well, your birthday is coming up….” Corcoran replied with a big smile.

Archer shook his head, grinning. “Friggin’ smart ass!”

“Ok, folks, I guess we’re going for a total clean out. Same plan as last time… get close, take out the guards, wait a bit, see if we woke anyone up, then go in and kill the bastards in their beds. Scorched earth, people. We leave nobody alive, aside from American hostages, and we bring them back here for medical treatment and counseling.”

Phil Huett caught his eye.

“What about their supplies?”

Archer rubbed his chin in thought for a minute.

“Leave the rifles, we’ve got more than we know what to do with now. Take ammunition, explosives, grenades, RPG loads…. hold it to ten truckloads or so… leave their field rations… damned things are kinda nasty anyway. If there’s any fresh food in the kitchens, take that, but leave the rest.”

“While I’m thinking about it…. we need to take along at least one or two detonators per building…. I want to leave behind a pile of toothpicks and ground beef, nothing else. We’re sending a message, people…. there’s a new wolf amongst the sheep… if you’re Chinese, you’ll be chewed up and spat out.” He favored them with his best evil grin.

“We leave at twilight tomorrow evening; I want our trucks under cover in that small town west of that base no later than midnight, and our people taking shooting positions all the way around the place no later than two thirty in the morning… just about the time the guards change shifts. We’ll give ‘em just enough time to get bored, then strike. Night vision gear for all of the advance scouts, of course, and everyone warned to watch for trip wires and mines the closer we get to the fences.”

Huett spoke up. “One more thing… and I take full responsibility for this one, by the way… the Chinese found our Humvees because we didn’t do anything about the tire tracks we made as we pulled them into that warehouse… we need to take along half a dozen brooms and rakes, so we don’t repeat that mistake. Matter of fact, it might not be a bad idea to outfit every scouting party like that, from now on, as a precaution.”

Archer nodded. “Good idea… leave no sign we were there, and no clue as to what direction we came from.” He shot a look at Johnny Corcoran, who nodded. He’d see to it.

It was ten o’clock and they were still fifty miles from the small town where they would be hiding their vehicles when it happened– they came around a curve in the road and ran right into a Humvee, being driven by two Chinese soldiers.

The Chinese, seeing the Humvees and the short line of trucks, naturally thought they were a resupply convoy, headed to the base. That was their last mistake. By the time they realized that these troops were wearing American uniforms, five men with sniper rifles were leaning out of the passenger sides of the trucks and had already drawn a bead on them, and the drivers of the trucks had pistols out; the two soldiers were dead before they could pick up a radio to request confirmation of their purpose.

Larry Willis pushed the two corpses into the back seat of the aging truck and jumped into the driver’s seat, putting on a pair of driving goggles to protect his eyes from the dust, and kicked out the bullet-riddled windshield so he could drive the enemy vehicle into the small town, to hide it until the operation was over.

By eleven thirty, the vehicles were under cover, everyone had eaten something, guards had been set, and most of their force was getting a few hours of sleep. This time, the tire tracks were swept over, lightly, to make it seem, to casual inspection, that they were from quite some time in the past.

Billy Jackson eased his way in, to within sixty yards of the guard tower, and sat back to wait.

When the headset earpiece whispered ‘Prepare to fire’ in his right ear, he flipped up the lens covers of the night vision scope on his favorite Sniper’s rifle, taking a bead on the furthest guard from him in the tower, and slowly worked the bolt, chambering a round in the silenced .270 Winchester as quietly as he could.

His first round connected perfectly, entering the Chinese guard’s skull just below the ear and showering his buddy with blood and shards of bone and bits of grey matter… the other guard stupidly looked out of the side of the tower platform, and his next round took that guard right below his left eye socket. Two rounds, two kills… his instructor would have been proud.

Around the base, fifty guards and ten German Shepherds dropped dead in their tracks.

All around the enemy base, snipers sat back to wait; they would soon see if anyone else was awake in the enemy camp.

Within fifteen minutes, it was obvious that all was quiet, and two men ran up to places by the fence on all four sides; starting at the bottom of the fence, five feet apart, then cut lines straight up in the chain link fence to a height of five feet or so, before turned their cutting towards each other, creating holes wide and tall enough for their troops to duck through…

Once again, the operation went off with almost clockwork efficiency… almost.

In two of the barracks buildings, sleeping soldiers awoke before the Americans were fully in position, but it didn’t matter… they just got shot first. Within ten minutes, all of the sleeping soldiers had been killed in their bunks, one man was killed as he walked in from an extended visit to the latrine, and Billy Jackson got his wish; he was the one who crept into the Commanding Officer’s quarters, tapping him on the forehead to wake the little bastard up just before double tapping him between the eyes with the silenced .45 Colt Combat Commander in his right hand.

“Serves you right, you son of a bitch.” He murmured at the corpse before turning to search the desk for whatever paperwork was there.

Sarah Jennison was the first one into the women’s barracks, and was appalled at what she found. There were twenty three young women inside, all handcuffed to bunks that were incredibly filthy, none of them wearing a stitch of clothing, with buckets sitting alongside of the beds that were clearly used as toilets, and piles of rags within reach for use as toilet paper.

One by one, Sarah and her all-female squad used their bolt cutters to free the young women, none of which appeared to be any too healthy. They handed out ration bars and clean clothing, assuring them that they were here to help, and waited as the other teams finished up, getting the women loaded into a big truck as soon as it backed up to the door.

Elsewhere, a team was busily loading up five truckloads of munitions and supplies from one of the warehouses when they made a startling discovery; Wooden crates full of US Army M16 rifles. Further digging revealed other American equipment… cases of spare magazines, ammunition, and spare parts kits, M203 grenade launchers and dozens of cases of loads for them, 9mm and .45ACP pistols and ammunition for them, fragmention and incendiary grenades, LAW rocket launchers, and even case upon case of C-4 plastic explosives and detonaters, both timed and remote triggers.

When he learned of this, Jim Archer didn’t hesitate, he nodded and replied through the headset to load up as much as they had trucks for and wire up the rest for demolition.

Mike Nelson spent twenty minutes looking over the equipment in the hanger, pronouncing it mostly unflyable and recommending it’s destruction; the plane and several choppers were quickly wired up with charges of Semtex and left. This gave him another idea, and he spoke quietly into his mic to the men who were searching the ordnance warehouses; he was told that yes, in fact, there were numerous land mines in the inventory.

Within thirty minutes, a team of men were burying dozens of mines in the dirt runway. Any Chinese who flew in to inspect the damage were in for a rude awakening.

An hour later, twenty five truckloads of equipment and munitions rolled out of the front gates of the now silent base, along with the truckload of young women and Cavedwellers…. two of these would head to the warehouse to grab the trucks they had come here in, and the rest headed straight for the Cave.

Two hundred yards out, Archer thumbed the button, and within moments, the enemy base looked like it had been carpet bombed from the air.

They were halfway home when the rain started, and Jim cursed for a moment, knowing they’d be leaving a clear path in the mud. As they progressed, though, the rain started really coming down, and between that and the drag chains on the last two trucks in the column, their tracks should be pretty well obscured.

A bit over an hour later, they had all of the trucks inside and a small team was outside with rakes and brooms, cleaning up the tracks from the rough path to the tunnel entrance while another tossed out grass seed at random, hiding their tracks further. Within a few days, it would look like there’d never been a truck through there at all.

The young women they had brought back were taken immediately to the hospital building, given multiple injections of antibiotics, cleaned up, and fed several small meals a day for the next few weeks, heavy on carbohydrates and protein, eventually getting some weight back on them.

Several of them, oddly enough, developed serious crushes on the orderlies who delivered the meals and took them for walks in the corridors to ensure that the extra weight built muscle mass and not fat.

Physical therapists stepped in as they grew stronger, with small hand weights, and soon the young women were joking that they were beginning to look human again.

Counselors also stopped in every day, talking to them individually and as a group, and soon, the young women were healing from the inside as well.

Sherice Donaldson took the tray from the somewhat older orderly, inhaling the aroma of the chicken stew and fresh cheese bread, almost thinking she’d died and gone to heaven. She looked up at the man who was busily ladling the stew into bowls, tempted to blow him a kiss as she selected a bottle of fresh orange juice to drink with her meal. She noted the mild look on his careworn features, and wondered, idly, if he would go for someone like her. ‘Naahh…’ she thought. ‘I’m damaged goods. Besides, he probably has a wife at home close to his own age.’

George Klein, the orderly who was the object of her attention, was, in fact, wondering if the chocolate brown skinned woman would want to be bothered with an aging overweight white man like himself. He knew he had her attention now, mostly because he was the guy with the food…. but would he continue to hold her attention once she was released from the hospital and living among the general population of the Cave?

The Village/Cave kid ‘mixer’ that Leeanne had suggested went off without a hitch. Over the course of the five hour long party, the kids ate, drank, danced to the music of old rock bands that had been dead nearly two hundred years, and spent hours sitting on the old couches in the great hall, just talking and getting the chance to really get acquainted, learning about their respective lives and forming new friendships. Leeanne looked on from the music booth and smiled; from what she saw, several new romances were blooming as well.

Billie Jean, Doris, Mickey, and Cassie were back at the cove, once again taking advantage of the seclusion to cook out, smoke a little herb, go swimming, and enjoy each other’s company… and bodies.

This time, they’d brought along a young man from Billie Jean’s village, Jeff O’Neil.

Mickey gathered firewood and got the small campfire going, feeding it small twigs and broken branches until they had enough coals to cook over, then produced a small folding grill from his backpack to place over them, while Cassie reached into one of the small coolers they’d brought, bringing up a plastic freezer bag of ground venison patties.

After they’d eaten, Mickey pulled a small baggie of joints from his shirt pocket.

Jeff had no experience with pot, but learned quickly. Within half an hour, they were all sitting back, enjoying the mellow buzz, and Jeff was looking on, wide eyed, as Cassie leaned over, kissing Billie Jean vigorously, as she returned the favor. Doris moved to his side, leaning her body into his, murmuring “What’s wrong, hun?”

“Are they, are they gonna….?”

“Maybe…. we’re all friends.”

“Do you, I mean, do you… “

“Sometimes, sure. Today, though… ” she replied, reaching over to kiss him. “I’m in the mood for a guy… or maybe two.”


“Sure…. I love havin’ two guys at once!” she breathed in his ear, which was a bit more than his sheltered nineteen year old mind could comprehend.

Mickey smiled at her, but stepped over to where Cassie was just starting to fondle Billie Jean’s ample tits and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in, babe?”

“Well… you could join us… you haven’t eaten my pussy lately.”

Over the next few moments, they had all stripped, and Billie Jean was laying back; Cassie was languidly licking her pussy, Mickey was laying on his back with Cassie’s pussy positioned just over his face, his tongue vigorously working at her clit, and Doris was busy kissing Jeff and fondling his cock through his shorts, while he was clumsily fondling her bare, pendulous breasts.

“Easy, baby… we have all day. Not so rough.”

she told him, working at the button of his shorts, pulling down his zipper and fishing out his cock.

“I’ve never….”

She arched an eyebrow. “You haven’t been with a woman before?”

He shook his head.

“Ok…. let me show you, then.” she replied, nodding towards the other three.

“I want you to eat my pussy, first. Just like Mickey’s doing to Cassie, over there…. and Cassie’s doing to Billie Jean.” she added, as she looked over at her three lovers.

“He’s lickin’ her down there?!

Doris kissed him again, smiling into his face and nodding. “He’s making her feel real good, honey. I want you to do the same for me. Let me show you.”

Laying back a bit, she reached down with one hand to spread her pussy lips, showing him the light pink flesh within and her hard little clit.

“I want you to lick all around here, lightly; you don’t have to be rough about it, just take it nice and easy… and pay a lot of attention to this spot here.” she said, while rubbing at her hard little clit, her face lighting up at the sensation.

She leaned back, legs spread, as he moved up between them, moving his head to her open pussy.

He extended his tongue tentatively, tasting hot womanflesh for the first time… it wasn’t really unpleasant, and he began to lick all around her lips, not quite hearing her sharp intake of breath as his tongue reached the top and brushed across the tip of her little nubbin. He felt it, though, in her trembling thighs, which were, by now, pressing hard against his ears. He began licking up and down her open pussy lips slowly, trying to get every part of them, circling around them again and again, as she reached down to run her fingers through his hair


‘OhmiGod the boy’s a natural!’ she thought, as his oral ministrations drove her over the edge. She was moaning almost nonstop now, cumming hard and fast, washing his face in her juices, and she lay back for long moments just enjoying the sensations.

Mickey, meanwhile, was busy probing his tongue as deep as he could get it into Cassie’s pussy, as Billie Jean clamped her thighs against the petite brunette’s head, feeling Cassie cum hard against his mouth.

Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore, and after giving her hard clit a final nibble with his lips, he slid out from beneath her, turned, and slid his cock into her shaven cunt from behind, eliciting a long moan from her, the vibrations in her lips driving Billie Jean over the edge, leaving Cassie’s face covered in her sweet juices.

He began to fuck her slowly, sliding out of her until just the head was still inside, then plunging back in to the hilt, but Cassie knew his slow strokes couldn’t last; soon he was picking up speed and Cassie was forced to give up trying to eat Billie Jean’s sopping cunt. Billie just sat up, reaching for Cassie’s lips with her own, kissing her furiously while fondling her tits, thumbing her nipples lightly.

Doris pushed Jeff over on to his back, then hovered over his face while she leaned over to take his cock in her mouth, providing him with a sensation he’d never had before. She alternated between bobbing down until her nose was in his thick pubic hair and sucking hard at the head of his hard cock, licking it slowly before plunging back down to take him all the way to the back of her throat… it didn’t take long. Soon he was cumming in her mouth, amazed at the feelings he was having as she struggled to swallow all of his seed. She kept licking away at him and soon, he was hard as a rock again. She jumped up, moving down his body to plunge her sopping pussy down on his still hard cock, riding him hard and fast, knowing he’d last much longer this time.

Billie Jean looked over Cassie’s shoulder at Mickey as he plowed into her friend from behind.

“Can I have you next?” she asked him, with a wide grin.

He nodded, not quite trusting his voice as he hammered into Cassie’s grasping cunt.

Cassie took the opportunity to get her arms under her, pushing back at him hard as he slammed into her, practically begging him to fuck her hard, and he was more than happy to go along.

Cassie was moaning nonstop now, and her groans and small cries gave way to a scream as she came hard, squirting a small amount of her cum out and soaking his balls as he gave a final hard thrust and pumped his own jets of cum deep inside her.

Doris rode Jeff hard and fast, moving her hips as fast as she could, while he, reacting on instinct, fucked back at her with almost rabbit-like speed, and it wasn’t long before she had to pause for a moment, as a crushing orgasm swept over her; he barely noticed, and kept right on going, his hands on her hips as he slammed up into her as hard as he could. She was near to collapse when the young man under her felt the tingling in his nuts again, blasting her insides with another dose of cum, finally driving into her a final time and just holding there as he pumped out the final few drops, Doris collapsing completely into his arms. Her lips sought out his, kissing him hard as her orgasm peaked and she settled into the mellow afterglow.

Cassie, meanwhile, was busily licking and sucking at Mickey’s cock, cleaning him up and getting him hard again, savoring the taste of their combined juices as he kissed and nuzzled at Billie Jean’s ample tits, driving her towards another moaning mini-orgasm as Cassie prepared him for the young redhead.

Knowing what little they did of Billie Jean’s recent past, they weren’t ready to push her into sucking cock just yet, or anal sex, for that matter. Her father had told her that the redheaded villager had been forced to take one of her attackers in her mouth, and Billie Jean herself had hinted at it as well, saying she never wanted to be forced into that again… the soldier who had done it to her hadn’t been any too clean, apparently.

Mickey lay back, eyes closed as Cassie sucked hard at his limp cock, slowly teasing him back to hardness, eyes opening as she pulled away. Before he knew what was happening, he looked down to see Billie Jean taking the brunette’s place, her strawberry red locks contrasting against his pale skin. He shot a look at Cassie, who merely shrugged as the young redhead started to lick and nibble at him, careful to keep her teeth in check. She plunged down on him, taking him to the back of her throat, then bobbing back up until her lips were wrapped around the head.

He reached down with one hand, palming her check, and she rubbed into his hand as she continued, finding that, when she wasn’t being forced into it, she enjoyed having his dick in her mouth.

It didn’t last long, though, because she was definitely feeling an itch, deep in her dripping pussy, and she jumped up, pushing him onto his back as she mounted him, barely giving him time to put on a rubber; she’d been watching Doris with Jeff, and liked the idea of being in control, herself, for a change.

She began to ride him slowly, just a few inches at a time, and Mickey held somewhat still, letting her set the pace, knowing she was still working her way through things. Soon enough, though, she sped up, until she was slamming down on him, crying out her pleasure as she came, dripping onto his thighs in her haste.

Long moments later, as she leaned forward in the throes of her third orgasm…. or was it her fourth? He drew her shoulders down, bringing his lips to hers and holding her steady as he pumped his cum into the condom that she’d barely given him time to slip on before jumping on him.

Jim was meeting with the council again, and it wasn’t going well… Bob Sharpe was calling on them for a vote to go after another of the bases in the state, or, better yet, one of those in Montana or Nebraska or Colorado.

“We need to liberate an area with a lot of farmland; we can’t take too many more of these refugees, much as I’d like to. We just don’t have the room. Jim, I’m telling you, we need to get some of the villagers we have now out on their own. What about repopulating some of our old American Military bases?”

Johnny Corcoran piped in. “You mean the ones that the Chinese were very thorough in destroying?”

“C’Mon, Johnny, they couldn’t have destroyed all of them!”

Archer nodded. “Actually, Bob, they were pretty diligent about it. Satellite surveillance shows the few we know about as being completely trashed. Most of them look like parking lots. Quite a few of the rest have been taken over by the Chinese, and taking those back is going to be a fuckin’ nightmare. Besides, I told these folks they could live here, completely safe…. I won’t go back on that. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror each morning if I betrayed them like that.”

Sharpe backed down after these words; he knew Archer was right. If they kicked the villagers out now, word would spread that they couldn’t be trusted. Not a good reputation to have if you’re hoping to recruit allies for an extended guerrilla war.

“Maybe we could wait until they’re well and properly trained, then ask them, as a group, for volunteers to look after the next bunch we approach…. give them seeds, five or six tons of supplies, find a small town to set them up in… Set ‘em up with a couple of those big diesel generators for power, make sure the town has plenty of power to run heat, lights, appliances, that sort of thing. Someplace close by, where we could keep an eye on them, but far enough away that they don’t jeapordize us, maybe send along a few of our people to help run things, continue their training, and stay in contact with us here.”

“You know that eventually the Chinese would find them and come calling.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I do…. but you know that’s going to happen, regardless.”

Archer nodded. He knew Sharpe was right, of course; space in the bunker was limited, and they were quickly running out of it. Even with the space left, which was far more than his wife had thought, they could only handle another twenty five or thirty families, at best, and they had more people inside, currently, than they had jobs for.

He had, in fact, been considering having Bob Gunderson round up a bunch of the villagers and trucking them out to harvest the vegetables from their old fields, which would both give them something to do and give a small boost to the fresh food market inside the bunker.

It wouldn’t solve all their problems, but it was better than having all of those fresh vegetables go to waste…. and what they didn’t use could go to the forest chambers to be fed to the deer and other wild game. While they were at it, they could take along hand scythes and machetes to cut down some of the waist high grass in a few of the local meadows to feed both their own few cattle and the herds inside the bunker. He’d have to talk to the old man about it when he got a chance.

Then, of course, there were the other Chinese bases in the state; located to their south west and further north of them, if the Chinese maps were accurate. The one ancient KH-12 surveillance satellite the computer techs had been able to access, the only one they’d found still in flight, so far, had been poorly positioned to get a good look at them, so they were pretty much going in blind. One was down near an area called Green River, according to the old maps, about a hundred and seventy five miles away, a good five hour’s drive, even with good roads…. and these days, good roads were few and far between.

It was decided that they would send out four Humvees, with long range radios, a full complement of all manner of weaponry, and three scouts in each vehicle, using up the rest of the empty space for survival gear and dried food packs, reserving one to haul plenty of five gallon fuel cans.

One of the trucks would tow a small tank trailer, hauling an extra two hundred and fifty gallons, so they should have enough for the trip back, as well. Each vehicle would also carry a geiger counter, with plenty of spare batteries, along with several sets of night vision gear, and a long range parabolic microphone as well, to listen in on an area before walking into it.

They were still a good fifty miles from the southwestern base when they ran up on a small village, a small, pre war town that was only given away by the thin tendrils of smoke drifting up from one of the chimneys of a house and lights from poorly sealed curtains. Seeing this, they backed off, seeking and finding an old warehouse they could drive into to hide the trucks until morning.

Karl Mitchell sat up abruptly… he could have sworn he’d heard an engine. Engines generally meant Chinese, and he and his small group of rebels could ill afford an encounter with a Chinese patrol at this point-low on ammo, and with wounded to care for.

He reached up to the small tabletop and lifted the globe on the small oil lamp they’d found in the basement, blowing out the weak flame and plunging the room into darkness. Crawling over to the window, he peeked out through a gap in the curtain but saw nothing. He crawled across the floor to Frank Simpson, but wasn’t surprised to see that the man had died in his sleep; just as well, since he wouldn’t have made it back to the main group anyway–he’d taken three in the gut from a Chinese machine gun two days ago, and they had damn-all medical supplies, let alone a competent medic.

Huett took the first watch, after they’d finished piling boxes and other detritus in front of the Hummvees. The other eleven scouts climbed up to the catwalks and platform office above to get a few hour’s sleep. He sat down behind a screen of old boxes, ate a ration bar, and sat back to wait.

Three hours later, he nudged Billy Jackson with his foot, telling him it was his turn at watch, and to wake him at sunrise. Pulling his pack over, he laid his pistol beside him and laid down to catch a few hours of sleep.

At dawn, they settled around several small camp stoves, enjoying the welcome heat in the cool morning air, cooking up dehydrated breakfasts in their military surplus mess kits, while some went up the catwalks to keep watch out of the second story windows.

Gene Dickinson was the first to catch the movement from the house where they’d seen the lights last night. One man came out of the side door, looking around as he picked a few ripe apples off of the tree in the backyatrd. He didn’t appear to be Chinese; his clothing was all old and poorly matched, and wasn’t anywhere near the Chinese military uniforms. His rifle, too, was wrong; if Gene’s memory was correct, it appeared to be an old M1 Carbine, of either World War II or Korean war vintage.

September 2018
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