Vanishing Manhood: Part 20
long race to Cody, Wyoming
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.
A list of characters;
Israeli's Team [12+2]
Israel Jensen (our protagonist character)
Flame (Brigit O’Connor; with her twelve millimeter hand cannon; Israel is her one and only friend)
Silent (Davia Afrah Qanyare; fires twin ten millimeter 'reasonable' handguns; still wounded as of the Missouri crossing)
Angel Kristi (Metropolitan Police Office; Seneca Poole; partner)
Roni (paramedic; Angel's friend)
Capri O'Hara (once met Shiro Sano, the hotshot lawyer, sat second chair)
Kuiko Sano ('Epic Sex'; welder, 43 sisters and cousins coming up)
Aniqua (office manager, "Nothing but Raman for six days straight!")
Venus (home renovator)
Samantha (equipment installation/repair)
Jethro MacFarlane: (67 year old former MRA terrorist, former sailor, rides a motorcycle and smokes. He likes Kuiko as if she were his daughter)
Lavender (History Student; Rides 'Bitch' with Jethro after the crossing)
Paisley (Biology Student)
Aria Ripley (smuggler and career criminal; not a killer; joins after the crossing)
Vanishers [12]
Casper; (Team Leader)
Wendy; (the 'Good Witch', Intelligence Expert)
Kat Harvey; (not seen much of yet)
Scar; Senior Security Operative aka Assassin
Wes Prince, Hispanic Vanisher on the Metro
Nat; Security Operative (Spy, infiltration, diplomacy)
Truman (Zara) (sniper and infiltration expert)
Brandi (explosive expert and Veterinarian)
Jen (spotter and NASA computer specialist)
Dusk; (not seen much of yet)
Luna; (not seen much of yet)
Thorn; (not seen much of yet)
The Other Men [2]
Barabbas Chebaya; (22 year old plumber journeyman)
Pierre Thomas; (18 year old college freshman who played 6 musical instruments)
Dimples' Crew [8+2]
Enola Treyvon (Team Leader, called Dimples by Israel; former Special Agent in Charge of the Man-hunting Task Force)
SA Vabishi; (linguistics specialist)
SA Fraklos; (medical specialist; field medic)
SA Cho; (East Asian heritage Agent who restrained Israel)
SA Berkshire; (African-American Agent who was nearly Tasered by Capri)
SA Norris; (not seen much of yet)
SA Tambora; (law degree from the University of Quebec)
SA Sosa; (Computer specialist)
Former Metropolitan Officer Freya Passey; (has the Israel cure; carries her body armor, pistol and shotgun plus baby Narfi in a breastfeeding sling)
Narfi Passey; (Freya's second child and second son; now has the Israel Cure; nine months old and hasn't experienced the Gender Plague yet, or the new Plague)
Verona Hedwig 'Hedy' Salenko; (the Aurora Slasher, had served 5 years of a 352 years sentence for murdering eight men before this story begins)
Special Agent Winthrop; (assigned by the Acting Minister of Justice/Attorney General to locate Israel Jensen no matter what)
Special Agent Carver; (FBI HRT specialist; turns out to be a Vanisher operative)
Mary Wollstonecraft => Ada Lovelace (Vanisher code for Dimples)
Shelia Montanyard; (Chief Civil Affairs Attorney for the Federal District Attorney's Office; Upper Mississippi District; remained behind in the city).
The Chase gets heavy weapons.
All of that assumed we made it past Buffalo. Our saving grace was the distance from town the airport was at; the Rangers had to have 'borrowed' some cargo-lifters from the 7th Airmobile Division on loan to the Great Lakes Command to have gotten that far. Currently, the helicopters and ground assets of the 7th were rushing to help hold the Missouri River quarantine line.
Unwilling to be left out of the race to capture me, the Great Lakes Regional Commander dispatched two platoons of Seal Team 17 (Naval Reserves) in search-and-rescue aircraft westward. Technically, the Seals were to support the Rangers, but they had specific private orders from the top to seize me and bring me back to the city. The biggest problem being the S and R (Search and Rescue) aircraft couldn't defend themselves.
The belief being that once they had me in the air, nobody would dare shoot them down less they end all life on Earth. I didn't have that ironclad belief in the women being reasonable, once they felt they could no longer possess me. Not by a long-shot. I guessed my newfound faith in women didn't reach that far.
Meanwhile, back in Texas, the CFS Marines had established a beachhead at Galveston and seized the airport there. The military and law enforcement had either been killed, or dispersed, but the civilian populace remained a problem.
Sixty years, mostly without men, hadn't dampened the gun culture in Texas all that much, as the CFS Marines were discovering. Snipers abounded, which made expanding their perimeter difficult. Still, a fleet of VTOL (Vertical Take Off and Landing) and STOL (Short Take Off and Landing) were making use of the captured airport to prepare to springboard into the Federation interior. From the way things were looking out at sea, the Marines urged their Army and Air Force counterparts to hurry.
And all the while, doom stalked ever closer. The first confirmed case of the plague had just been reported in San Antonio, Texas. Three hours later, Dallas would report its first. At the same time, Phoenix, Southwest Province, reported the same. Any hope of containing the outbreak to the West Coast were dashed. In Seattle, the regional military commander ordered her ground units out of the city and to be quarantined in her military installations. By nightfall, all law and order had broken down; Metropolitan Seattle-Vancouver was in total chaos.
Encounter At Eagle Pass
We blew through Buffalo; quite literally, with all cupola weaponry firing away; then began our race down Central Rockies Highway 16 into the Bighorn National Forest. We’d scrapped the previous plan to stay on Federation 90 highway, because it goes right by the Buffalo Airport and the attack forces who were unloading there, and would likely have the highway blockaded. Our speeds were beyond reckless. We had to go that fast, lest they blow a bridge ahead of us, bringing our flight to an abrupt halt. Jen, with her satellite hook-up, kept us abreast of efforts to get in front of us.
Apparently, those in pursuit could also see how deadly our pace was and decided they didn't want to risk me plunging into some ravine at 75 miles an hour. The one drone to make the attempt made the mistake of coming within range of our Manpads, so Zara blew it out of the sky. The skies, in all directions, were filled with squadrons of fighter-jets in a deadly dance of skill and technology.
Neither the North American Federation, nor the CFS/Bolivian Alliance, would establish air supremacy so all their drones were at risk. Both sides were ruled by other constraints which forced them to feed aircraft into the fight, piecemeal; thus our current airborne bloodletting. The Bolivians had to move through the corridor they had established through Texas, while the Federation was limited by the politics of the regional commanders and the distance their weapons of war had to travel.
Wyoming Terrain
Even as I was viewing the desolate yet beautiful national 'forest'; it was now mostly craggy grassland; outside our window, the elite Condor Regiment's 1st Battalion was lifting off from Galveston's somewhat battered airport; the race was on and every factor had us colliding at an abandoned scenic overlook called Eagle Pass, the last chokepoint before Cody, Wyoming and the Shoshone Forest beyond.
The only problem was we weren't the only people who could read a map, and the 90th Security Forces Group could see that the best place for them to ambush us was at the same Eagle Pass. Why? Because the 90th didn't have a plethora of attack helicopters and no assigned jet cover whatsoever. To rush straight into the Bighorn National Forest was simply begging to be shot down before they could assume a defensive position.
Essentially, we had finally been boxed in, or that would have been had the 90th and the Condors not been on a collision course. Lest we forget, there were the Rangers on our tail by land and air since Buffalo, and Big M's horde of vehicles in hot pursuit since Rapid City. Jen projected a massive amount of carnage ahead as well as behind, with us having no clear way around Eagle Pass ourselves.
How bleak were things for us? Casper gave Barabbas, Pierre and me; the option of using PDW (personal defense weapons) along with our pistols, if we truly wanted to fight for our freedom. If not, she recommended we remove our pistols as well. Pierre was balking right up until I took a PDW and another belt with spare magazines attached. Barabbas still chose to go weaponless.
I understood that mindset. He barely knew any of the Vanishers and wasn't invested in their survival strategy. No matter what happened to the rest of us, he would most likely be taken prisoner and transported elsewhere, but at least would still be alive. Those of us foolish enough to pick up a weapon; were simply asking to catch a bullet in a cause which wasn't our own.
The town of Shell was a ghost town, which we burned through. Outside of Greybull, someone's aircraft tried to blow the bridge over the Greybull River; not realizing it had been built into a dam. Before they could come back and rectify the situation with a massive application of high explosives, we were over the damn dam and racing through the streets of Greybull itself.
In Greybull, we had to navigate a dogleg of a turn north along the junction of Highways 14 and 20. I swear to God, or Goddess, we rose up on two wheels taking that turn, so great was our speed. Once again, there was a critical bridge ahead of us; this one over the railroad; which they blew up. This time, Jen navigated us down 13th Street North which took us over the rails before the bridge and out into someone's farmland.
Before they could adjust, we were back on Highway 14/16 heading west once more. Then everything depended on Eagle Pass. Crucial seconds lost to maneuvering in Greybull meant the 90th and the Condors collided on the western side of the pass before we got there. Neither side could get to the high ground, which left us that option; and we were running out of options all right.
In one final aerial push, the CFS and Bolivians cleared the airways for their forces. The mass of automobiles following were the first to feel their wrath, confusing Mama Keverich's group with some of the Texas patriots currently keeping the CFS Marines so fatally busy. A lot of them died and so close to their goal, too. I certainly couldn't spare them an ounce of pity.
They also downed all but two of the Ranger helos and one aircraft from Seal Team 17. Those two units swung around the north side of the ridgeline and set down northwest of the pass, optimally reinforcing the 90th Security troopers. Seconds later, all three of their rides were blown to smithereens as well. This was the carnage we came rolling into, as we climbed up the eastern side of the ridgeline.
Right as Casper's ride cleared the top of the pass, her Hummer was hit head-on by a 'light' anti-armored rocket, we suspected to have been fired by the Condors' side. The Hummer swung to the right then rolled over. Nat, at the controls of the second Hummer's copula, hit her selector switch even as Wes slammed on the brakes in order to not slam into the vehicle in front of her.
A chain of smoke grenades went off everywhere. Our people were pouring out and rushing to Casper's demolished ride. Somehow, I found myself amongst them, Pierre at my side. While other ladies provided us cover fire, we dragged Casper, then Wendy, from the Hummer. I crawled in to get Kat; but she was clearly dead, a piece of the engine block having fractured and crushed her chest.
"Take the pathway to the south!" Jen was screaming. "We'll swing around the ridgeline and cut cross country."
Our only problem was the lead vehicle in our line up would be Dimple's all-terrain vehicle, without a hint of armor. Pierre and I half-dragged, half-carried the two wounded Vanishers with us, as we fled back to our ride. Elsewhere, the other walking-wounded passengers crawled into the floorboards of other vehicles.
"She's going to beat the shit out of you for this," Zara intoned, even as she used her chosen weapon to suppress the few people coming up from behind us.
Kuiko and Capri helped us wedge the wounded into the back of our Hummer. The moment I said, "Everyone's in!" Brandi hit the accelerator, and off we shot.
"You're bleeding, Kuiko suddenly noticed, getting all weepy once again.
I was. The broken glass and metal shard inside Casper's vehicle had cut up my hands and forearms. Without even thinking about it, Kuiko began to pull out the small pieces of glass shards from my exposed tissue. Meanwhile, I had other things on my mind, like;
"Who me?" I asked a busy Zara.
"Yes, you," she murmured, then her rifle recoiled once more. "She told you to cease with the heroics; and here you are being all heroic again."
"Fuck it all," I shrugged. "She needed saving."
"She's going to love that excuse," Zara chuckled, even as she slid down to join us in our super-cramped quarters.
Zara immediately went into first-responder mode, tending to the two wounded and directing us how we could help. Outside I could hear the fifty caliber and grenade launcher firing away. I couldn't see who, or what, they were firing at. Little did I know we were running straight through the Condors' LZ (landing zone) and they weren't happy about it.
Zara, Kuiko and Capri bound my various light wounds and abrasions once the foreign particles had been removed. The alcohol barely stung and the iodine was utterly harmless in comparison. I still ended up looking as if; very appropriately; I had been in a war zone.
This time my heroics had earned me wounds I could be proud of. I had suffered for my friends, and that was a sensation I could barely articulate. Best of all, I was damn sure I would do it all over again, if the necessity arose. I was becoming a 'Man', or at least a man by the metrics of Jethro MacFarlane; and that meant something to me.
Still, in the LZ, they must have had orders to not use too heavy an ordinance against our tiny convoy lest they accidentally kill me. Sams and rockets were going off everywhere. It appeared the Federation Air Force; this group from the Ohio Valley Province with some smatterings of the fastest flyers from the East Coast provinces; had gotten back into the fight.
Another wave of drones, plus the remainder of the Bolivians, gave it their all in defense of their units. The end result was a maelstrom of chaos. Normally, you fight your aircraft with the idea you retire once you were out of missiles. Only the insane tried to engage a fighter with missiles with only your guns. Still, that is what the Bolivians did. All that really meant was both sides were dying in droves.
Dogfights led both sides rogue pilots away from the center of the action so there was no one to chase after us; in the air; once we fought our way through and got back on Highway 14. With Casper and Wendy out of action, it fell to Wes Prince to take command.
"We are making for the Shoshone Forest," she ordered. "We'll have to double back after dark, if we can."
Mind you, the city of Cody had been witnessing the carnage outside their humble burgh. The GNN affiliate had recorded it for posterity with the footage soon going around the globe with the accompanying question of; 'why?' Why were so many women fighting and dying to control that small piece of real estate? And why was this one small segment of that fight, cutting their way through and racing for Cody?
Well, it didn't take a retired reservist to understand there were the friendly 90th and the Rangers. They were flying in on Federation equipment, Enemy units were beating each other to death out there, and the good citizens of Cody began organizing to provide assistance. Some gathered up their firearms, and even their bows, to go 'help out' the friendlies, while others prepared to offer succor to the multitude of wounded sure to be left behind.
The local police chief stopped her citizenry from rushing out pell-mell toward the crisis; instead, building up a sizeable 'militia' to sweep out as soon as she felt enough women had gathered. Inside of thirty minutes she had rounded up two hundred, then she moved forward, her own small group of civilian drones leading the way. It was no maddened charge. There were a lot of aircraft up there that still constituted a threat, and the land between Cody and Eagle Pass was wide open with little in the way of cover.
As we were racing toward Cody, the mass of vehicles swarmed out of our destination city and formed into a loose vehicular skirmish line, nearly a kilometer long. The biggest question in our minds was what would we do if they tried to stop us. They didn't. They got out of the way and let us flee into Cody, unmolested. Once there, Wes slowed us down so that we could talk to someone in charge, to pass on what we knew about the danger we were fleeing.
That turned out to be the Chief of Surgery for the Park County Hospital, one Dr. Tasha Abernathy. She offered to take our wounded off our hands, but Wes declined. A few people looked at me and Pierre when we got out of our Hummer to stretch our legs, and to allow the medical staff and a gaggle of Girl Scouts examine our fallen.
We were armed and armored, yet still were tall and not overly feminine. Of course, putting a gun in a man's hands was tantamount to insanity, yet no one called us on it. Only Jethro drew an inordinate amount of stares; him having a beard and all. Even with Capri and Kuiko by my side, eventually some woman approached me.
"Hi. Welcome to Cody. I'm Lisa Shaw, head of local Girl Scout troop 3078. Who are you, exactly?"
"What she is; is tired," Capri moved between us.
"Your friend needs a shave," Miss Shaw smirked, "and a cup."
"Cup of what," I let my fatigue expound upon my ignorance.
"An athletic support cup," she studied me. "I've seen you somewhere before."
"No, you haven't," Kuiko spouted, nervously.
"What my friend means is I have one of those faces and 'yes', I am a man with a gun, my friends and allies are not insane, and unless you want to see just how serious my friends are about helping me keep it, I suggest you keep your mouth shut about what you suspect," I somehow found the inner strength to say.
"A whole lot of women are out there dying for you," Lisa said, instead of backing off.
"No, what they are fighting and dying for is to keep men enslaved," I bit back, angrily.
"Why I live and breathe; Mr. Jensen," she eyeballed me.
I looked around at the number of women present with firearms of some kind; too damn many despite the 'non-violent' purpose of them having gathered here.
"Scream that from the rafters, and living and breathing will be the least of your worries," I bit back.
"What does that mean?" she countered.
"I mean, they will roll into Cody and level it, trying to capture me. And they will level it. And not just these foreign fighters, but Federation forces as well."
"We are part of the Federation."
"I'm not. Not anymore."
"Why do they want you so bad?"
"I'm not going to tell you. Suffice to say, if you squeal, all you will bring to this town is death. Not at my hand, but at the ruthless hands of the women back East who think they are in charge."
"Those women are in charge," Miss Shaw stated belief as fact, despite the solar array having crashed into the capital and the JCS being out of contact for the past several hours. Who was really in charge of what at this point? Who knew?
"Not of me. Not anymore," I frowned.
"That's treason; especially in times of war."
"Fuck you," snapped Capri. "Do you know what a writ of exclusion is? Well, this person is my client and that is what they hit them with just last week."
"What did you do wrong?" Lisa studied me.
"Not a damn thing," I gave off a feral grin, "except mount an effective legal defense; with the help of Capri here. So the Federal government cheated and slapped me with a writ of exclusion; thus terminating all my civil rights."
"Are you with the MRA?" she riposted.
"Nope. In fact, until I had my rights taken away, violent resistance was the farthest thing from my mind," I leaned in.
I had about eighteen centimeters on her, and she didn't like that.
"So now we find ourselves hunted fugitives because we all came to realize being a man in this society sucks to the point where violent resistance is the preferable option."
"Wait until the chief of police gets back," Shaw threatened.
"We'll be gone by then; and I'm willing to put as many of you women in the ground making it so," I bit right back once more.
"And you will be the first to go," Jethro announced, having snuck up on us. The way he held his assault rifle was far more menacing.
"What's your story?" Lisa still failed to back off.
"I am the last member of the MRA alive today," he really turned on the lethal charisma of a professional killer.
Lisa's eyes flitted to me for a second.
"Not him," Jethro scoffed. "He only goes after those who threaten him, or his coterie. I hunt Feds for sport and I have to tell you, today has been a real blast. Better than the old times, even."
"Spokane, you butcher," Shaw seethed.
"Not me and that was the reason I left back in the day," Jethro shrugged. "I could kill cops and Feds all day long and into the night, but a busload of kids; nah, that shit was more than cruel and pointless, it gave you ladies a real reason to fear us; you regular citizens."
"If I had been in the cell which plotted that out, I'd have killed the lot of those bastards. And I'm vindicated in thinking so right now," he continued. "What is your one and only comeback? Spokane. I'll counter that with the Gender Inequality Act and forty years under our yoke, bitch," he snarled. "Be a hero for your gender and raise the alarm. The first shout is free; then I'll kill ya."
"You'll die, too," it finally dawned on Miss Shaw the sort of individual she was facing.
"That's what he's here for," I answered for him. "To go out in a blaze of glory taking as many of you; bitches with him before he goes."
"You say that as if it is a bad thing, Israel," Jethro laughed.
"You're crazy," Shaw clued in.
"Yeah. Watching my gender dragged down in chains will do that to a man," he grinned. "I'm waiting."
"You'll kill me; and kill my girls," Lisa backpedaled.
"Without a hint of remorse," he confirmed.
"No! Please don't do that, Jethro. Most of those young girls don't even have weapons," Kuiko pleaded.
Actually, the majority of them either had a rifle of some kind, or a bow.
"Kuiko, go tell Wes we need to be leaving." I placed my hand on her shoulder, "Pronto."
I looked around for Pierre and Barabbas. Barabbas was nowhere in sight, but Pierre was, and he had somehow engaged two Girl Scouts in conversation. They apparently realized he was a guy; with a gun; and didn't mind.
"Pierre, we need to be leaving; like Right Now!"
He nodded, said something to the two girls, then raced back to our Hummer.
I also then noticed the three copulas were again either occupied, or 'actively' scanning the crowd. Most of the women were still paying attention to the battle going on beyond their town's border. One plane strafed the oncoming skirmish line, but before it could rise to a safe height, Zara sent a Manpad its way. The hit was marginal, the plane's pilot activating her ejection seat and escaping it before the crash.
"Thanks for that," the doctor waved to Zara. She was already dropping the spent casing for the missile and resuming her watch with her sniper rifle in hand.
"Mount up," Jethro chuckled, adding, "I got this one," pointing to Miss Shaw.
None of us hesitated, sprinting toward our ride. Two nurses were exiting our Hummer so it took a second for the three of us to locate somewhere to sit.
It wasn't easy because both Wendy and Casper were both erect and alert. Casper had my seat and Wendy had Capri's. Pierre was in the final seat, so the rest of us had to wedge ourselves into spaces on the floor. This time around, Capri was sitting in my lap, while Kuiko was stuck sitting on Pierre's; not that I felt he minded all that much.
The thump on the head caught me totally off-guard as our ride got rolling. For an instant, I thought something had fallen on my helmet. I looked around only to discover it was Casper glaring unhappily at me, instead.
"I recall you dragging me out of my overturned vehicle while in a free-fire zone, you idiot," she grumbled. "What did I say about you and acting brave?"
"Shove it," I sort of blurted out. "I'm not your slave, or even your property, so just back off. I'm going to do what I feel is right and you are no longer in any shape to stop me 'Captain' Casper."
For a moment, I thought she might actually try to inflict more violence upon my person, but then Wendy started snickering, which broke the tension.
"He's fighting for his freedom, Casper," Wendy chortled. "I think the time for chaining him to anyone has passed. Besides, now he has Pierre acting bravely, too."
"Fine; what were you and Jethro talking about with that Scout Leader?"
"She realized who I was; then Jethro told her he was ex-MRA."
"Oh; fuck," Casper groaned. Over her headset she passed on the warning. "Locals could turn hostile at any moment."
I had to do something to change the subject.
"Pierre, what were you talking about with those two Girl Scouts?" came to mind.
"Oh, those were the twin Silverhorn Sisters; Rose and Constance," he grinned. "I got their home address and sort of promised to stop around next time I was in the neighborhood. They even gave me directions to their ranch house."
"Just my luck I got the ball-buster," I groaned.
"What are those directions?" Casper demanded, so Pierre regurgitated what those two teenagers had told him.
"The Silverhorn ranch is down Highway 14 to Southfork Road aka Highway 291. Then it was all the way down 291 past Buffalo Bill Reservoir, all the way to the Mower Creek Road. That was their home and they are the only Silverhorns in the valley. It's about thirty-five minutes outside of town."
After a minute, Jen chimed in.
"I think I can figure out a way we can look like we are going into Yellowstone then backtrack to the outskirts of Cody after dark and make that place; no problem."
"Let's do it then," Casper responded, through gritted teeth. She was still clearly in a bad way despite her brave front.
"Oh, and Israel, tone down the heroics. We are desperately trying to keep you both free and alive. We truly do have your best interests at heart; understand me?"
"I'll do my best," I conceded.
I was too worn down to argue the point at this juncture, though knew I would try to save her life again if things came to that. Sure, I had been afraid, but those fears had taken a back seat to my sense of loyalty and comradery. I was proud of myself and that would never go away.
Exit Cody.
By the time we took off again, the Cody 'militia' had linked up with the remnants of the 90th Security Group and the Rangers, and began slowly pushing the Condors back and to the south. As for the Condors, they realized they had failed in their mission and it was time to cut their losses and begin their own exit strategy. In their case, a second wave of Vortex VTOLs; actually a Federation model sold to Bolivia when a previous administration had tried to 'mend fences' with them.
Here they were using the Vortexes to confuse the Federation forces trying to roll up their position from back in Texas. Off they went come nightfall, leaving a small number of Federation military; the 90th, the Rangers and the Seals; to figure out where we had disappeared to. Pursuit only led them back to the center of Cody, where they could, indeed, identify me as having been in the convoy, alive, slightly wounded, but definitely kicking.
On the other hand, the Herculean task of hunting our tiny, six-vehicle convoy within something the size of the Yellowstone Park, plus the chance we had deviated into the Shoshone National Forest; west of the Missouri, there simply weren't the troops to spare, despite the necessity of grabbing the source of the Israel Cure. Their few remaining satellites, and even fewer drones, kept looking though. Jen and the girls back at the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) continued to confuse the powers-that-be. By the time the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) had reasserted their authority that evening, I had pulled off my own vanishing act; at last.
The JCS still had the incursion in Texas to beat back, the plague beginning to pop up all points west of the Missouri-Mississippi quarantine line, and the devastation to over twenty of the Federation's largest cities; and that was with their space defenses shooting down over half of the incoming ICBM. Bolivia had about the same success rate, but the Federation simply had more ICBMs to throw at them.
Silverhorn Ranch.
All the energy we had garnered back in Rapid City was mostly spent by the time we rolled down the road not far from the Mower's Creek turnoff. Even as desperate as our circumstances were, we had to be cautious. Zara led her three-woman team out to scout the Silverhorn Ranch, while the rest of us waited at a convenient turn-off. The eastern sky was turning grey, so we had to be quick about things as well.
What they discovered was only one person in residence in the main house, and the bunkhouse to be empty. Farther afield, they spotted six women riding herd on; well, a herd of cattle. They sent back a picture of the lone woman in the main house. It was my old boss, Francesca. I nearly passed out from the sigh of relief I gave off. We'd made it. Angel was at the wheel of our Hummer so she, along with the other drivers, pulled us over, lights out, into the front gravel drive.
Francesca actually put on the lights, and then stepped out to see if it was, indeed, me. I had to be pulled back from doing so. It fell to Dimples and Vabishi to make the introductions.
"Hello," Francesca greeted them with the classic 'hand behind the back holding a pistol' way.
"Former FBI Special Agent in Charge Enola Treyvon and former Special Agent Vabishi, also from the FBI," Dimples began. "We have some special people in our motorcade who would like to reacquaint themselves with you, but we need to search the house first."
"You have Israel with you? Wait, aren't you the agent who arrested the now former-President?"
"I am," Enola nodded.
"Israel?"
"I cannot comment on the nature of our motorcade, Ma'am. Do we have your permission to search the premises to make sure it is safe?"
"Yes. Yes, of course. Please come in," Francesca stepped aside.
With that, came the ten-minute search of the main building of the Silverhorn Ranch. As it turned out, the majority of the ranch hands, plus Miss Silverhorn and her two twin daughters, had gone to Cody, when the call went out for 'every able-bodied woman' to assemble for a 'sanctioned militia'. None of them had come back yet, so Francesca was terribly worried.
The six women watching over the herd were the minimum necessary to protect the cattle from predators and their own stupidity, or so Francesca related. Since she had so little firearms experience, they had felt obliged to leave their 'city cousin' behind. Like everyone else, this side of the Rockies, they had heard the jets flying by for hours, as well as the cacophony of weaponry being discharged.
Dimples gave us the 'all clear' sign, so we immediately went about hiding the three Hummers in the car park. There wasn't enough room for the ATVs, so they were rolled under some trees on the property. That would have to do. After all, ATVs on a ranch were perfectly normal. There was no disguising the military nature of the Hummers, though. Jethro parked his ride there as well. While not completely uncommon, motorcycles weren't as prevalent as they had been sixty years ago.
Secondly, we all pitched in to bring as many supplies inside as possible. Then we deposited Casper, Davia (aka Silent), and Wendy onto a sofa in the living room, and finally, there was time enough for introductions. Francesca was so used to seeing me semi-clothed, or in business attire, she didn't immediately recognize me in my military outfit. In fact, she almost rushed Pierre by accident.
"Hey, Francesca," I sighed, worn to the bone by today's events. "Glad to see you took my advice and headed west."
Then she came to me and gave me a breathtaking hug.
"Good to see you too, Israel. Glad to see you have surrounded yourself with some rather dangerous women."
"Purely accidental, I assure you," I joked. "Let me make some introductions." I then began to name off everyone by either their names, or monikers. Those, who had monikers, were then identified as Vanishers.
It was a great deal for Francesca to take in. Our quiet moment was broken by Francesca's phone ringing.
"Wilma?" she answered it, letting us all know the person on the other side of the conversation should have been her cousin.
Thanks to whatever divine presence was looking after us, it was.
"I'm safe," Francesca answered. "These are the friends stopping by I told you about."
There seem to be a whole lot of them.
"My friends brought friends as well."
Are they all armed?
"Yes, they are all dangerous friends."
Is one of them the individual who talked to my girls earlier today?
"Yes, I imagine I am staring at one of those individuals right now."
Then finally, "My cousin is coming in with her contingent," she addressed the room.
Sure enough, five jeeps rolled into the front of the ranch house and began disgorging nine armed women and two rather exhausted Girl Scouts. Two ranch hands waited outside with guarded vigilance, while we were introduced to the other seven; Wilma Silverhorn and six of her ranch hands, including her head wrangler, Danika Orsini; a blonde Amazon nearly as tall as me.
Wilma, on the other hand, was of a more reasonable size, but possessed, even at this early morning hour, a sense of boundless energy and hard-boiled determination to have her way. Within two minutes, I found myself in a pow-wow with Capri (still my legal counsel), Casper, Danika, Enola, Flame, Jethro, Wendy, Wilma, and a ranch hand name Pearl Thundering Water (a Shoshoni lass named for the nearby Buffalo Bill Dam).
It turned out over half of the ranch hands were Shoshoni, indicating a close tie between Wilma and the tribe. In exchange for their help with the herds, she gifted the tribe with several heads of cattle in the fall (along with paying them, of course).
"Hi all," I found myself starting this rather tense meeting, "I am Israel Jensen. I have the cure to the oncoming plague inside of me."
"The fuck you say!" Wilma reacted first among the newcomers, clearly doubting my claim.
The rest were either in doubt, or stunned into silence by my revelation. They wanted to believe, but to be honest, what I said sounded like so much fantasy wish fulfillment.
"I'm deadly serious. Women I have sex with have an extended immunity and, it is hypothesized, a transfusion of my blood grants roughly a year's immunity. I plan to share this 'gift' with as many people as possible, but I don't want to do it in Federation custody," I continued.
"Right now, I am free and that is mostly due to the efforts of Enola," I indicated Dimples, "and Casper's," I indicated the Vanisher leader, "efforts. Currently I am taking firearms lessons so that one day, I will be able to defend myself; as my ancestors in the Federation intended. By that I mean I am reasserting my right to bear arms."
No one said anything for several seconds.
"Okay that I believe and have no problem with," Wilma nodded, "as long as you put that firearms expertise to work guarding my people and my herds. Don't be selfish."
"Gladly," I exhaled, so much tension.
Men with guns was a terrible weight in many women's minds.
"Oh, it appears one of the guys; Barabbas Chebaya; doesn't want to use a firearm. I hope that is okay."
"What kind of sissy is he?" Wilma frowned.
"An independent-minded one," I fired right back. Wilma grinned over the ferocity of my retort. Later she would tell me it was my fierce defense of my brotherhood which she found both quaint and amusing.
"Also, he is a journeyman plumber; a skill, I imagine, will be quite handy as we dig in for the foreseeable future," I added.
"Oh, that is useful," Wilma agreed. "He is still going to need a pistol, though. Plenty of diamondbacks like to crawl underneath buildings in the summer months."
"I'll warn him," I accepted her version of reality.
"Okay; numbers?" Wilma took us in, in our superior numbers.
"Thirty-eight," I virtually groaned.
"Some of us might be moving on as well as be expecting company from time to time," Casper spoke up.
"Likewise, once me and the ladies get the cure, we would like to use our own expertise in crime fighting to help out the local communities," Dimples volunteered. "Of course we would leave Freya and Narfi with you ladies."
"Freya and Narfi?" Wilma asked.
"Former Metropolitan Police Officer Freya Passey and her nine-month-old son," I explained. "I suspect she will be looking for a new career after what happened to her back in the city."
Wilma merely nodded.
"We could always use more ranch hands," Danika suggested.
"What about the Tribe?" Pearl Thundering Water inquired. "How soon can some of that cure be coming our way?"
I looked to Casper, who seemed to be mulling over her response.
"We have a small amount on ice," she confessed. "As for spreading out our cure base, let's wait up on the other ladies for about a week; give them a chance to regenerate the blood they gave to the Rapid City casino and to the Crow physician there."
"Also, Israel, I don't want to treat you like a sex machine, but if you could have sex with two women a day for the foreseeable future; that would go a long way to alleviate the stress the surrounding groups are having," Casper groaned.
Exerting herself, even in this safe environment, was beginning to wear her down.
"Sex machine, eh?" Wilma shot me a carnivorous look which took just about all of my dwindling courageous reserves not to shiver from.
"Part and parcel of my freedom is listening to my community," I accepted.
"My two girls are seventeen and you are clearly over sixteen so how soon for them?" Wilma asked.
"Let's wait until they are eighteen; old enough to be allowed to join your militia; and I can do it then; for them?"
"Hopefully, we can wait," she shrugged. "Danika goes to town pretty often, so I would like her 'covered' as soon as possible. There was a lot of exposure to foreign sources of this 'bug', so I don't know how much time we have."
"Three days to incubate then four days to kill you," I reminded everyone.
"Just like the Gender Plague," Danika sighed. "Just like with my son."
"Oh; any daughters?" I wondered.
"Two; both with friends in Cody because I wasn't sure what sort of reception we'd receive coming home," Danika related. "They are fourteen and eleven."
"We will inoculate them as soon as possible then," Casper beat me to the punch.
"Thank you," Danika nodded her appreciation of the gesture.
"Also, I would like to get back to Rapid City to help them out some more," I recalled. "That will be a dangerous trip, I know."
"I know a pilot close by, who owns two aircraft; both Stols. They can make the run to Rapid City and back in about four hours," Wilma informed us.
Danika's nod supported that advice.
I could also tell they were slowly softening their approach toward me after I revealed I really wanted to save as many people as possible. Sure, they still saw me as a guy, thus weak-willed, but I had two firearms to counteract that old way of thinking. As Angel would tell me, I had the look of a man hardened by extreme events and ready to fight for what I believed in.
While her words bolstered me, I still had that niggling feeling she was lying to me merely to help me get through the day.
We also strongly expressed the necessity of not letting anyone outside this room know who I was, and why I was here. Even neighbors might turn on them if they felt threatened by the oncoming plague. We didn't have enough guns on the ranch to keep me protected twenty-four/seven, and still run the ranch the way it needed to be run. Besides, I was embracing my own risks;
"Well, we can keep in touch with Rapid City," I looked to Casper, who nodded, "so we can stay abreast of how bad things are getting for them and behave appropriately."
That bit of decision-making sort of stunned the other women, but made Jethro grin. He pulled out his flask, took a swig then handed it to me. I steeled myself for the effects of his rot-gut whiskey so when it hit me, I was prepared. I still wanted to vomit it back up though, even then. I handed the flask to Wilma, who was kneeling next to me. Standing around Casper was both a chore and put her at a personal disadvantage.
Wilma took a hit of Jethro's homebrew, coughed loudly, then handed it to Danika.
"Stiffens your spine," she joked with Jethro. Danika's reaction was more like mine; she nearly spewed the contents.
"Strong," she managed to get out after a few moments. After that, the flask made its way untouched back to Jethro. I looked into his face. He was openly smiling then.
"Men lead," he mouthed to me. Louder, he added, "You done good."
"We need to build this man a still," Wilma joked. "Have him perfect this. Right now, we can use it for rocket fuel once we've had our fill."
"Funny you would say that," Jethro mused. "I started up my still to create fuel for a pre-plague ferry; and it worked."
"When did you serve?" Thundering Water inquired.
"US Navy then Federation Navy; exited service forty-five years ago."
"Wouldn't it have been a hoot if they re-enlisted you when calling out the inactive Reserves," Pearl chuckled. "Would you have gone?"
"Hell yeah. Damage control technician, fireman and shore patrol; all before I was kicked out by the GIA (Gender Inequality Act) and the Congress which passed it."
"Yeah, I could see how you became bitter," Pearl nodded. "Air Force; five years; became an air traffic controller with the 3rd Air Support Operations Group, Fort Cavazos, Texas. I heard they got clobbered by those damn Bolivians."
"Well, we clobbered them back, or did you miss all those ICBMs going up?" I snorted.
GNN had yet to report on the overall damage both North and South America had sustained during the missile exchange. I had to wonder how many brave reporters and studio personnel had perished covering the events as they unfolded; right until the bitter end. If there was any saving grace in all of this, at least neither side had used nukes to settle the matter; just big, fucking bunker-busting bombs.
"We did? I missed it; too far away, I guess," she smiled at me. "What about you; Casper? You serve?"
"As of three days ago; officially no longer. Before that; no comment. My service record was one of the Federation's dirty little secrets. Israel was right, though. I had a rank. It was Captain. Could have been higher, but our operational units were never larger than platoon sized, so 'captain' I remained."
That quadrupled the knowledge I had about Casper. The whole 'captain' thing had been an educated guess on my part; I had heard her called that, but still. In hindsight, it was the deference shown to her by the other women, who I knew were Special Forces, was only confirmed.
"All that is fine and dandy, but I think Casper and I need a med-check and some serious bedrest," Wendy stated.
There were nods all around.
For the time being, we all knew what we needed to do. For me, before I could gain some sleep, I had to fulfill; not an obligation, but a directive as old as the human race itself. I kept close to Capri, ignoring Angel and Zara tagging along. Capri; she had done so much and was, in her own way, very special to me. I had to make sure she survived and even prospered. Besides, with her quirky sense of humor, being in bed with her was just what I needed; to laugh, and shed the tension of the past two days with someone I truly cared about.
I would not let this epic tragedy my people were experiencing weigh me down. I would surge forward against the gathering darkness and say 'No more!' And this time, I had a gun in my hands and hope in my heart for a better tomorrow than all the brutal yesterdays I had fought my way through, just to get this far. Yes, tomorrow would definitely be a better day.
The Silverhorn Ranch; One Month Later
The sun was just starting to beat down on us. The Middle Rockies Province had just slipped into summer two weeks ago, yet those cool days were becoming nothing more than a fading, beloved memory. Already, we had come to understand the hot days of June were merely a cautionary tale of what was to come. Highs hovering round 86° were gone..
These days, it was well past that by mid-morning and our highs hovered around 95° only to plummet down to around 47°. A rather damp June was replaced by an arid July; it had only rained one day so far and that was barely a sprinkle. Getting used to the higher elevation; Cody sat at roughly a kilometer-and-a-half above sea level; was its own chore, but we were all coming around.
Barabbas was throwing himself into the plumbing trade, fixing, or replacing much of the ranch house's pipes. They were quite old since the home had been built by Wilma's Great-Grandfather almost a hundred years ago. Instead of being frustrated, Barabbas woke up every day with a smile on his face and a song in his heart, as he whistled his way to work.
Pierre was learning to be a farm hand half the day, while providing music lessons (which very often led to sex) to both the Silverhorn twins (no sex for them yet) and the various ranch hands who showed an interest. To his credit, Pierre was a great sport about it all, though a bit shy when talking about his experiences to us guys. Jethro took over Pierre's weapon training, which had come to include hand-to-hand fighting.
Then there was me. I still woke up half the time from nightmares; my shattered memories coming to the fore. Because of that; I often woke up, screaming; word got around about what I had been through; twice. The women looked at me differently after that. Sure, I was a fighter, but I was also a damaged soul and that could be too much for some of the ladies to deal with.
That was okay because most of my time was devoted to my own coterie. By chance, Roni was the last member I had had sex with. Before her, all the guys had been inoculated and I'd had sex with Samantha. I also learned to sneak off with Kuiko (and Zara) for our little sex and nipple sessions. Every night, I went to bed with Angel, cementing in everyone's mind she was my number one gal.
I didn't always go to sleep with just Angel, though. Often, Capri, or Kuiko, would join us. I couldn't get Zara to do so, though clearly, I wanted to share some of that time with her. She remained under the impression she had to protect me at all times. When not being with me, Angel oversaw all the weapons training for the coterie, especially since Casper and Wendy were sidelined.
Not only were those two incapable (for a time) of teaching firearms lessons, Angel still had Kuiko to train up. Kuiko and Barabbas were still the slowest learners. I was doing far better going about my private lessons with Zara, learning how to both shoot better and how to commit a passable fast draw. I was no longer throwing my gun away, I was actually getting my eleven shots off and holstering my piece in somewhat acceptable times.
Zara accomplished this by three means. One, she really was a good teacher. Second, she claimed I had the mythical 'Warrior Gene' which was finally coming to the fore, seeing that the Old Society was no longer suppressing me. She claimed Jethro; and Flame; both had it, as well. I recalled that being 'junk science', but elected not to argue the point. Still, that was less than comforting news. Third, when I accomplished the day's metric in learning, we had sex.
I really, really, really wanted to exceed my metric every day because of that. I even practiced in my spare time. That was one of my problems, though. Unlike everyone else, I was permitted spare time because it was considered too risky for me to be seen outside the ranch house, or with the herds; neighbors would ride by; on horses; from time to time, and the idea that my identity could be concealed by a cowboy hat was laughable.
There was also the problem that the chief of police and mayor; they had become a strong working trio alongside the regional magistrate; had reluctantly bent the knee to the Middle Rockies regional military commander to make an effort to find me. There was irrefutable evidence I had been at the 'Event at Eagle Pass', the modern historians weren't sure if it qualified as a battle, or not.
Every phone received a daily update on the search for me along with possible disguises and aliases I could be using. As Wilma was able to share the cure with the local leadership and the hospital, they knew were not to look too hard. She claimed I was somewhere in the Shoshone National Forest, though I would sneak over to her ranch some nights to visit her cousin, Francesca, as well as 'entertain' her ladies.
Finally, a team of FBI and DIA (Defense Intelligence Agency) women arrived to take over the search. Strangely enough, the police chief immediately had them quarantined; being strangers in town after all. Threats were exchanged until a limitation on the quarantine protocols were worked out. No troops needed to be brought in; not that the RC had that many troops to send.
The Middle Rockies was under a stay-in-place quarantine order, with each community responsible for their own quarantine and with truckers and pilots sanctioned to move food and medical supplies about and as needed. There was still hope, even this late into the genocidal outbreak, for womankind to find a cure of their own.
I kind of felt sorry for the involved truckers and pilots, though; bravely risking their lives in order to keep the communities in the province alive. Some communities had even gone so far as to issue shoot-on-sight quarantines, ordering all 'outsiders' to stay away.
Desperation was everywhere. A shining light in this disaster was Rapid City and their self-quarantined casino.
So far they had zero outbreaks of the plague, though said disease was gradually grinding down the city around them. They had finally located the source of the leak about me and my location to Maria; and executed her. They wouldn't keep a traitor, and they couldn't exile her because she knew too much about the casino's inoculation policy.
So Rufus did the deed, and then they put the body in the on-site incinerator. They kept going over the phone trying to find any sign that Maria had survived the destruction of her column by someone's air force (most likely the CFS pilots), and was still out there. So far; nothing, so we remained wary. That was one of the reasons Zara sneaked me out of the ranch house pre-dawn, and had us ride several kilometers away to do my training. I loved learning to ride, though, initially, it was painful in so many ways.
She was right in the fact that my required physical exercise by the Federation was still paying off. I could keep pace with Zara and she was Special Forces after all. By mid-July, I could shoot a pistol without any problem and was becoming comfortable with the assault rifle. As predicted by Zara, once I got over the power of the killing machine, I could handle it like a pro. I could tell she was proud of me.
She was less proud of our hand-to-hand training sessions. For some reason, a butt grab and caress weren't authorized moves. Even when our bodies were pressed together and despite our body armor; I always wore body armor; she aroused me more than she terrified me; and she was a fucking sniper after all. In fact, women in general no longer held a certain terror for me anymore, the more I took to loving so many of them. Oh, another aspect of my gradual evolution was I cursed more.
Everyone blamed Jethro, who didn't seem to mind, as opposed to Flame, who spent an inordinate amount of time with me, as well. I had finally had sex with her. It had been another chilling experience because, as promised, she agreed to be tied down for me to do the deed. Even restrained like that, she was indomitably fierce. And, after we had finished; I ejaculated twice; woops!; and I had partially untied her, she began chasing me round the compound.
Thank goodness it was nighttime. I couldn't imagine the kind of shit I would have received for being caught outside one of the buildings when any number of satellites, or drones, were overhead. Jen, and other Vanisher friends, kept a silent vigil over the compound, feeding satellites forged data when necessary, and using those self-same satellites to keep an eye out for any drones coming south of Cody.
Despite not being a large-animal veterinarian, Brandi did yeoman's work looking after the cattle and horses on the premises. That way, we didn't have to summon the already overtaxed vet from Cody to come down and pay us all a visit. Cody's vet had already been vaccinated, though she was smart enough to know what the final source of that 'medicine' was. She, like anyone else with medical training, was treating those coming down with the Plague as best they could.
Unfortunately, the hospital's patients were actually recovering at a phenomenal rate, to the point the investigators from Denver got curious. Interrogations followed, along with some dire threats; but no one broke. They kept my secret and thus I got to keep staying in my temporary home. I imagined life on the run would be almost as bad as being secreted away in some Vanisher sanctuary.
I wanted to live free, and the women were bending over backwards to make that dream a reality. It was a lot for me to digest; all those stranger women invested in my survival and peace of mind.
Baby Boom.
"Whatchya thinking about?" Kuiko asked, as she plopped down beside me on the swinging chair on the covered porch.
"Two months ago, when I was finishing up college, I was dreaming of a new life, without Bethany and her sorority jackals," I put my confused thoughts in order. "I hoped my job would be a legit first step forward, that I would eventually meet some guys to befriend, and get on with my life. Any relationship with any woman was the farthest thing from my mind."
"Then I encountered Bethany once more, Isobel Diaz and finally, Angel; and you and Aniqua, Kuiko," I smiled at her, even as I eased an arm around her shoulder. She snuggled in. It felt so natural. "Suddenly, there were women in my life again, and all my hopes and dreams for a 'better' future were collapsing around me."
Then Kuiko slipped her arm around my waist, and hugged me, tightly.
"The thing is, Kuiko, I learned to adapt, and change. I can barely recognize that shattered creature I was at the end of my second day in that housing complex. I kissed Angel, and I wasn't revolted by the experience the way I had convinced myself I would be; at that moment and forever."
"I'm so sorry, Israel."
I could tell she was crying softly into my side.
"You shouldn't be, Kuiko." I hugged her back for a moment, before relaxing my hold. "You helped me take all those shattered bits, so I could create the foundation of the man I am today. You taught me to love again; really love; in a way I hadn't felt since I was sixteen. There was no alien desire to make you feel good, find my release, and never talk to you again out of a sense of shame for what we had done."
"Hey," Kuiko sniffled, "you brought me the 'sexy'. You made me laugh and sigh. You did, and do, make me so happy, Israel Jensen."
"That is part of it, my love."
She jolted the way she always did when I told the whole damn world I loved her.
"Happiness without guilt. Angel and Capri helped, but, Kuiko, you led the charge to make me a better, more complete man. You."
"Really?" she looked up at me. "You aren't just saying that to make me feel terrific, are you?"
"Nope." I leaned down and kissed her nose. "It is all genuine praise."
She followed up that nose kiss until we were French kissing. Gradually, she maneuvered herself first onto her knees beside me, then onto my lap, facing me and all the time kissing.
"All right, you kids, you are keeping Kuiko from her assigned chores, so cut it out," Capri ambushed us, playfully.
Kuiko shot an 'evil' pout over her shoulder before dismounting me, and walked like one of the condemned toward the stables; the most likely destination of her chores.
Capri stopped me from entering the house for a moment, her hand on my forearm.
"I'm late," she whispered.
I stumbled.
"Late; you mean like possibly pregnant 'late'?"
"Is there another kind?" she smirked. "Daddy."
"Now we have to think about the world we are bringing our offspring into." I looked out over the South Fork of the Shoshone River to our west.
Carpi hugged me; a rare bout of affection on her part.
"I asked Danika to pick up some pregnancy tests the next time she goes into town," Capri stated. "I figure even with you spreading the love around, we should get prepared for the stampede of little feet around here sometime before next spring. Especially for Angel, Kuiko and Zara."
"And Zara?" I questioned.
"Oh, you two think you are being discreet, but come on, we know all the best hiding spots by now, and know it only takes so long to cross the damn river on your way back 'home'. Home; I guess this place is sort of home. We might think about adding some additions to this place before winter sets in and we are stuck here."
"Yeah, I keep getting told how bad the winters are here so close to the mountains," I nodded. I also steered Capri around, and went back inside. "Who else have you told about; well, this."
"Not a soul, so I expect it won't come up in casual conversations for a day, or two," she snickered. "I swear, there are no secrets on a ranch."
"Names?" I wondered.
"Knowing the gender would be nice too, but that would require a few more months and a trip to the OBGYN in town. I pray to Goddess, she doesn't double as the veterinarian," Capri responded, with her own list of concerns.
"How about Jericho, if it's a boy, and Francine, if it's a girl?"
"Francine?"
"After my Mother," I explained.
"Okay. I could live with that. Why Jericho?"
"I like the name," I shrugged. "Maybe we could start a tradition of naming our boys after Old World cities.
"Oh, I have always been partial to 'London' as a girl's name," Carpi smiled.
"There are bound to be dozens if we go looking," I nodded. "London it is."
"Not Francine?"
"Francine can wait a bit," I conceded.
"Atta boy," she hip bumped me.
Family. My not-so-little family was growing.
To be continued
By FinalStand for Literotica