Vanishing Manhood: Part 21
Humanity Reset.
Based on ‘One In Ten’ by FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.
A List of Characters;
Israeli's Team.
Israel Jensen: (our protagonist/POV character)
Flame (Brigit; with her twelve millimeter hand cannon; Israel is her one and only friend)
Silent (Davia; 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.
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.
Barabbas Chebaya; (22 year old plumber journeyman)
Pierre Thomas; (18 year old college freshman who played 6 musical instruments)
Dimples' Crew.
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 Aurora Slasher Continues.
Verona put her binoculars down. She had spent twenty-nine hellish days hunting Israel's captors down, heading ever westward, and skirting the quarantine zones, cities and towns. She used the cover of an elite FBI special investigator to get this far, relying on citizens' good nature when she could, stealing when that didn't work. A good serial killer task force could have run her to ground by now; had there been such a thing as the world died.
It was dying all right, and not soon enough to satisfy Verona Hedwig 'Hedy' Sauvage. No, she wouldn't shed a tear for the billions dead, or dying. They had created the germ of their destruction decades ago, and here they were reaping what they had sown. All that mattered were herself and her Israel; and the precious antibodies he had gifted her six-and-a-half years ago.
That was the only reason she could give herself, as to why she was still alive after so many close-calls and face-to-face conversations she had had since escaping custody. If ever there was a sign their love was eternal, this was it. All she had to do was rescue Israel and, once he was safe, come back and eliminate all those who had stolen that immunity for themselves.
Stage Four; the first three stages had carried her this far; was then before her. She had to penetrate the compound, where he was being held, and rescue him. At first, she had hoped the 'training' assignments he went on were a clear opportunity to eliminate his sole guardian and escape into the Yellowstone National Forest, but that guardian; always the same woman; appeared to have some sort of supernatural sense when it came to being observed.
That, and her gear was clearly that of a sniper; not someone she wanted to try hunting in the great wide-open expanses around the ranch complex. No, the better plan had her sneaking into the complex at night; perhaps two hours before dawn when the sentries were at their least effectiveness. That required her to know which room in the dwelling he was being kept in.
It would be safest for his captors to keep him in the basement, but between the trauma inflicted upon him during the police raid, which had removed him from her custody, and the desire to make Israel believe he was 'free', that was unlikely. The second-floor rooms were then the best bet to detain him. Since there appeared to be seven bedrooms upstairs; she couldn't eliminate the possibility they would keep him in the master bedroom because that would increase his accessibility for the whores keeping him.
Poor Israel wouldn't even be checking to see if his door was locked; from the outside, either. The risk was huge, but she needed to find various blinds to scout out the house from. Over the intervening nights, she would have to watch to see which rooms went dark at what times. Consistent 'lights out' could be eliminated as possibilities until she had the most likely room to approach first.
Then it would be all knife and baton work. She didn't have an effective sound suppressor for her firearms; the two pistols, a shotgun and a hunting rifle she had acquired on her long journey here. The thing was, the Federation government still thought Israel was in the area as well; just on the wrong side of their crumbling quarantine lines.
At any moment the JCS (Joint Chiefs of Staff), or even a local regional commander could decide to stop trying to save everything and the necessity of saving what they could by sending an airmobile unit, or Special Forces detachment, out here to settle the matter. The clock was ticking and she knew she was running out of time. All that in mind, her genius intellect was feverishly going over all her dwindling options, and the time to act was fast approaching.
Living Rent-free in Singh’s head.
"I swear by the fucking Goddess," FBI Special Agent in Charge (SAC) Singh griped, "Jensen is somewhere in the Cody area and everyone, except us, knows precisely where that is."
"Well, we are tracking zero cases of the plague here in the past 72 hours," DIA Special Agent Greene nodded. She was the team's medical specialist.
"I've interviewed over twenty of these plague 'survivors' and to a one, they claim to have no idea why they are still alive when elsewhere across the Federation, people are continuing to drop like flies," DIA Special Agent Connors shook her head. "I think this all traces back to the head of the hospital/clinic here. She knows precisely what they are being injected with and that has to be the 'Israel Cure'."
"Other options?" DIA SAC Fitzhugh sipped her coffee, while looking over their combined team.
"They might have had a few previously inoculated patients passing the cure on, but not this many. Worse, we nabbed two Shoshoni women leaving the veterinarian's office with the same song and dance, 'not here because of the plague' yet couldn't provide identical symptoms when interviewed separately," Greene pointed out.
"The thing was, they rode the whole way to Cody from the Wind River Reservation; on horseback; a good two days' travel. They had to know something," Green pointed out.
"So we have women as far away as the reservation knowing the damn secret," Singh growled. "Talk about a total lack of patriotism."
"What can we bribe them with?" FBI SA Brisbane sighed.
"The locals have the gift of life itself, and they know we will be taking Jensen away once we locate him. That decreases the chances of the overall community surviving this pandemic," Connors shook her head.
"Let's go over the basic data again; a combined total population of three thousand, three hundred and eighty-four adult women, two hundred and ninety-seven adult males with five hundred and ninety-four sub-adult girls and twenty-five sub-adult boys. This burgh is slowly dying out anyway, right?" Singh pointed out.
Everyone reluctantly nodded.
"Then explain to me why all the pregnancy tests just flew off the shelves. The pharmacist explained they had a problem reordering their stocks so are 'temporarily out," Singh grinned.
"What?" scoffed Greene. "They are expecting an Amazon order in at any moment? My question is, who is expecting to have a ton of kids soon? To the point they would preemptively get pregnancy test kits?"
"Well, pharmacies have cameras," Singh grinned. "Let's go see who is buying all those tests then. Let's go see who we need to talk to next."
Deep Search.
Maria had spent that first cold night at the tail end of the battlefield, hunkered down with three of her people; at first, carefully moving toward Eagle Pass, but then retiring from it as they could all see the activity in the area. A good number of people with trucks; lights on; scouring the area for survivors. Some, they summarily executed, while others were rounded up and taken westward.
Only later was she able to determine the 'winners' were the 90th Security Forces Group, heavily reinforced by a Ranger battalion, and the Cody 'Militia'. Come dawn, the 90th had returned to its home base to rearm, resupply and reorganize. They had taken severe losses in the firefight. Over the next two days, they had removed from custody most of the prisoners, leaving behind only those deemed too wounded to move (yet not so badly wounded they had been 'put out of their misery' the night after the fight).
In reality, the 90th was back down at Warren Air Force Base near Cheyenne, Middle Rocky Mountains Province, the opposite side of what had once been the old state of Wyoming. That meant they were four hours away by air, double that by road. Besides, by the time the 90th returned to base, Denver, the provincial capital, had taken over the hunt for Jensen.
By that time, they had linked up with the She-Wolf, six surviving mercenaries and that Bethany character. Everyone else was dead, or had fled off into the wilderness as the battle raged. Even their one male had bought the farm, ripped to shreds by the Gatling gunfire from one of the attack aircraft. The race to catch Jensen was down to these twelve; eleven really, as Maria knew Bethany wasn't worth a damn.
Until they were sitting around an abandoned home a week later, eating the last of their salvaged rations, and trying to figure out what to do next.
"The best clue we have was the fact they went to the Rapid City Casino, because they had the inside track," Maria was musing; not really seeking anyone's input. "That Sano-girl."
"Their rides won't traverse the Rockies without a recharge," the She-Wolf decided to speak up anyway. "The Yellowstone has to have been shut down, so no one inside that, or the other National Forests; “
"Well, I once heard Francesca say she had some family near Yellowstone," Bethany contributed.
Suddenly everyone was staring at her.
"Where exactly?" Maria stood up menacingly.
"I don't know. She was a civil servant, so I rarely paid attention to her," Bethany squeaked.
"I would work real hard on recalling every single bit of that conversation," the She-Wolf spoke in a low, threatening tone.
"Um; they had horses and cattle; I think; and it was near a river because she talked about fishing there; " Bethany stumbled along.
"A ranch; so not directly in town," the She-Wolf began pacing. "Fuck it all. This is cow country; “
"But it has to be somewhere around Cody. They need to recharge," Maria reasoned.
With that; the race was on. The first thing the She-Wolf did was finish repairing their communications array, so she could contact her employer. Contacting earlier, when they had no leads, was a surefire way to get written off. Then though; they needed a satellite to be tasked to looking over the Cody area and an airdrop of supplies. Considering what a mess the invasion had left the intervening Federation territory, that wasn't a pipe dream.
Maria really thought about murdering her right then, except her troopers were on the ball and looking rather hostile at their criminal 'allies'. Instead of worrying about her lack of utility, she began calling every single remaining source she had west of the Yellowstone, no matter how small time, or fragile the connection. If Jensen and company had appeared out of the Yellowstone, then she would locate them.
And if they didn't, they had that small geographic area to concentrate on. As for why the mercs weren't ending the criminals right then and there; they would all need rides if they were going to go over all that terrain. That meant, breaking into places, murdering civilians and stealing their vehicles; most likely time and time again. For that, they would need hardened criminals, or so the thinking went.
"I did a good thing, didn't I?" Bethany approached the She-Wolf, once the call to Dr. Delilah Fremont had ended.
The She-Wolf had to think about that for a few seconds. She really, really wanted to off the annoying snit of a package, but decided against it. Dr. Fremont might not appreciate the necessity of the sanction; being her daughter and all.
"Yeah. Keep thinking about things you might have learned from this Francesca-person, and we'll keep thinking of reasons to keep you alive."
"Oh," Bethany said, in a small voice. In all honesty, she was terrified. Her survival depended on the sufferance of a bona fide sociopath and her mother's pet killer.
Suddenly, she wondered if this was what Israel felt like, trapped in that awful basement, at the mercy of that creepy serial killer. That he might have felt that way, at the mercy of her sorority sisters, never occurred to her, though. After all, her sisters hadn't meant him any harm, had they? Certainly, he understood that; right?
The Twilight's Last Hope Before The Dawn.
It had been another sweltering day, yet everyone was in good spirits. Wilma's daughters, Rose and Constance, kept teasing us about their upcoming birthday and their promised 'true' inoculations. They already had taken a shot with my antibodies in it, because their Girl Scout troop was tasked with traveling, on horseback, to outlying farms, and ranches, to make sure the residents were okay.
Due to that activity, we had surreptitiously inoculated every Girl Scout and their pugnacious leader, Miss Lisa Shaw, too. The veterinarian had created some excuse about the shots being meant to ramp up their immune systems, so they were less likely to get the plague. Since none of them had gotten sick, the girls accepted the deception at face value. No one knew what Miss Shaw thought about it all.
All she did know was her troop had volunteered for a dangerous duty, had received the shots, and none of them had shown a single symptom of the plague, even when other members of their household had gotten sick (and thus gotten a shot, as well). Likewise, the plague had swept through Greybull, a nearby community of roughly eight hundred down Highway 14 East, and that burgh was quickly becoming another ghost town.
By the time Cody's leadership and medical specialists got a convoy together to render aid, nearly four hundred had perished. The rest were being encouraged to move to Cody, where they could better manage their combined dwindling resources. Roughly half the population had stayed behind to take care of their cattle and horse herds, but they knew better than to ask just how Cody was doing so well. They, suddenly, had a new lease on life, after all.
There had become this normal morning ritual on the Silverhorn Ranch. After breakfast, the two newest women I had slept with the previous day and night, gave up a pint of their blood which then made the journey in Wilma's pick-up truck to the hospital. There the pints were smuggled into the hospital's lab where they separated the antibodies out and refrigerated them for that day's distribution. Those two pints equaled about a hundred inoculations.
The ladies who had given up a pint, then went on to perform a half day's light labor; so not a bad deal all around for them. By dawn, I had geared up my mount and crossed over the river for my daily training period with Zara. Only Casper's Vanishers remained eternally vigilant. Otherwise, you pitched in, even Dimple's former FBI team.
Roni had taken to training Paisley in the profession of being a paramedic so, along with Brandi the Vanisher, we had all our medical needs covered. Jethro, once he had his still built, took to the rancher's life with the same gusto he approached every other challenge his long life had thrown his way. Normally, that included watching over Pierre in the mornings when that young man was doing his farmhouse chores.
Mind you, Jethro still walked around as if he expected the ranch house to be attacked with barely a moment's notice; guns a plenty, plus body armor. He even carried this huge fucking Bowie knife with him at all times. Angel, Kuiko and Aniqua were created as their own work team. Normally, that meant moving wheat-grass to the herds in the morning, and gathering up their dung; for the ranch's compost; during the afternoons. Compost would be 'sold' to the valley's farmers.
Lavender had taken a few electronics and communication's classes during her high school years (and hated it, thus her desire to be a high school teacher, instead), so seconded one of the ranch hands checking up on all the ranch's Wi-Fi, and land-line, communications. We all figured she was still a decade off from realizing her dreams of teaching the young.
Samantha and Venus had taken to re-vitalizing the ranch hands' dormitory with all sorts of things including new beds, appliances and, with Barabbas' help, new shower stalls and bathrooms. Capri, who had never done all that well at math, was tasked by Wilma herself to take over all the ranch's books, thus making her our semi-official accountant. On the plus side, she got to go over the region's tax codes, which was a type of law she had always done passably at.
Dimples and her team were responsible for designing and constructing the additions to the ranch house, as well as two new dormitories for the mass of newcomers I had brought with me. They shanghaied Aria Ripley, the daughter and sister of the smuggler duo, who had smuggled us across the Missouri. She was at loose ends, and the majority of her skill sets were criminal in nature.
Lastly, there were our wounded. Davia (aka Silent, though she didn't much like me calling her that, or so Flame cautioned me) was recovering quickly, and had made it clear she was going to be a guardian, like Flame, watching out for not-looked-for guests. Casper, Wendy, and Wilma really didn't like that, but I intervened to remind everyone those two had fought their way through a police/military cordon to escape the city, so that was enough of a reference to their combat efficiency.
Golden Clues.
To aid in the ranch's financial well-being, the Vanishers had brought in some gold coins to buoy our accounts; not enough to crash the local gold market, but enough to raise suspicions about the Silverhorn's mysterious houseguests. Still, that permitted her to do things like become a primary partner in creating the Cody Lumber Mill. We had trees aplenty since there was no one to stop Cody from harvesting trees from the surrounding National Forests; just common-sense stewardship.
To help out, Cody's town council even approved the purchase of a lumber truck, replete with a tree-lifting claw-arm, at a reasonable price. The truck's former driver; they didn't own the thing anyway; took to living in Cody, which included free room and board. The driver even took part in a 'requisition's raid' (aka legal thievery) into the Rockies to steal a semi, loaded with industrial-strength electrical engines.
Electricity was strictly rationed in Cody, due to that fact they had no ready access to more power-generating systems. Every home had long since had solar panels on the roofs, and their wind farm was also rather aged, causing the community some serious concerns. By aged, I meant most of the wind turbines were around thirty-five years old. At least, the town had a reasonable stockpile of solar panels. On the plus side, the old, but recently restored Cody Dam on the Shoshone River, just outside of the town limits, was a steady source of electricity within current demands.
An unspoken problem was the dwindling supply of nitrates, and the resulting grains the huge cattle herds in the region needed. The answer, somewhat, was the dung the cows and horses pooped out, though that was smelly, messy work. Part and parcel of that were the abandoned herds of cattle and horses in Greybull. Wilma had led a major expedition on her part, plus eight of her twelve hands and three dozen other 'Cody-ite's to round up and drive the herds westward into the shade of the mountain peaks around Cody.
Of course, Wilma wasn't the only one increasing her net worth on the hoof. From as far afield as the Shoshoni, and the Northern Arapaho natives to the south, to Powell in the north, ladies gathered to pick the land clean of unattended chattel. The women ranchers staying around Greybull were limited in how much they could maintain due to there being only one (not so) major waterway running through their town; the Bighorn River; and a lack of labor; so few women wanted to stick around.
They had even started the process of moving all the viable aircraft from the airport at Greybull to Cody's Yellowstone Regional Airport, where the planes could be maintained, and new pilots trained up. The plan by the town council was to have enough planes to rapidly reach the surrounding satellite communities within minutes of a flight of STOL aircraft, thus reacting quickly to the expected raids, once people began realizing the Cody area was thriving in midst of all this chaos, death, and decay. We weren't there yet, though.
Dating Wilma.
I stood up and walked my way to the head of the grand table; we guys got to eat at the same time and place as the Silverhorn clan and their ranch hands. I took a deep, cleansing breath in an attempt to suppress all those persistent demons in my mind, and I didn't want to do it right in front of our hostess because that might make her feel bad.
"Wilma Silverhorn," I began. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing planned." She looked up at me, and smiled.
She had been inoculated at the beginning because of her constant visits to town as well as being the 'face' most townsfolk and fellow ranchers were used to dealing with. Still, that wasn't quite the same as having sex with me; many more billions of antibodies per liter of blood. I was going to rectify that tonight.
On the plus side, for her, this would mean half-duty work detail tomorrow. Wilma eyeballed me for several seconds, doing the same calculations.
"It's been a long time," she grinned. "Sure, Mr. Jensen, I would like to spend some time with you tonight; and in my own damn bed," she referenced, me having the master bedroom for my sexual trysts.
I took her hand. She took up her mug of hot, steaming coffee; another vanishing commodity; and we traveled together, hand in hand, upstairs to her/my room.
"Why?" she asked.
"Multiple reasons," I shrugged. "I like you. I suspect you like me, too. You are one hell of a patient hostess and you've really been; 'busting your hump' getting things ready for the 'fall roundup'."
"That I have," she nodded. "What do you know about the fall roundup?"
"Not a damn thing, except that it seems to be the number-one topic of conversation amongst all your trail bosses and ranch hands," I confessed. "It must be pretty important."
"It is." She stopped holding my hand, but that was only so she could wrap her hand around my waist. "Glad to see you are paying attention to what is going on around you, though. A man needs to keep his head on a swivel, here on the frontier."
"We are in the middle of the Federation," I pointed out, not on any frontier I was aware of.
"We are on the frontier now, or did you miss this news report before dinner?"
"Nope. I knew it would be depressing news, but I listened anyway," I murmured.
"Good news with the bad," she stated. "The EMM (Emergency Management Ministry) is still in the fight, still keeping people informed and still fortifying the latest quarantine zones."
"After the failure of the Mississippi Line," I exhaled, "I was sure we had tossed in the towel and given up. We didn't, though. Do you really think New England, minus Boston (which had been demolished by a Bolivian ICBM) and the Southeastern Province (Nashville was gone, but Atlanta and Miami had been shielded successfully) can carry on without the rest of the Federation?"
"Unsure, but I need to keep the hope alive, here on the ranch," she enlightened me.
"Everyone does look to you for leadership and understanding," I riposted.
"It was how my Momma raised me. Don't shirk the blame when it's my doing. Never accept that no one should be held accountable for their part in things, either."
"I know it's a tough subject, but did you ever have any sons?" I asked, as we went up the stairs.
At the top, Wilma hesitated. I could sense she suddenly wanted to go back downstairs.
"Does your friend Jethro still keep a bottle of his 'rocket fuel' in the cabinet by the bed?"
"Yes, Ma'am, he does."
"Good. Israel, I had three sons. None of them made it past month nine. I am kind of jealous of Freya and Narfi over that, though I understand her first son didn't make it, either."
"Sorry about that," I lowered my head.
"Don't be. All of my boys passed more than five years ago. Back then, you were just a normal teenager; I asked around; and even if we had been aware of what made you so special, I probably couldn't have been given access to it. I paid my dues."
"Do you want to try and have another child?"
"Let's wait until after the first round of infants," she chuckled. "Some of us ladyfolk need to be taking care of the ranch, while the rest of them are pumping out the next generation."
"The offer's open, if you reconsider," I stated.
"Mind you, I wouldn't mind some grandbabies," she smiled up at me.
"I can work on that, too," I smiled back, "but not until after they turn eighteen."
"The law says sixteen."
"I'm making a new law." I was adamant. "Old enough to serve in the militia; old enough to raise the next generation."
"Yeah, you are definitely a peach to deal with. So many guys just give up; surrender all responsibility, and just lay back as life runs right over them."
"Not your Jethro, though, and not you. The verdict is out on the other two." She meant Barabbas and Pierre. "You take to a gun well and from what little Zara will reveal, your hand-to-hand and knife fighting training are moving along apace."
"Some man a hundred and fifty years ago; a Chinaman; said power comes from the barrel of a gun."
"Smart guy."
"A bit of a soulless butcher, actually, but I think you are correct. He got that saying right. Once men grow up without the Old Society grinding them down, they are going to recall; some of them anyway; what it means to be free, and what the price of freedom is."
"Mmmm." She opened the door to our bedroom.
"Vigilance and violence; the long vanished universal 'right to bear arms' means we serve in the militias, too, and we do what we want, as long as we don't trample on others doing them, no matter how dangerous our own thing happens to be."
"Got any dangerous plans?" she asked, as we began stripping.
"I want to go snorkeling off a coral reef sometime; maybe just Angel and I, come winter; maybe not next winter, but some upcoming winter soon."
"Snorkeling. Ha!" she laughed, uproariously. "I was thinking of you trying to bust some broncos come springtime when we bring the horse herds in for their breaking."
"You break horses?" I hesitated in disrobing.
"It means 'domesticating'. Get them used to having a saddle, bit, and bridle, and a rider up top. It ain't natural, and for some of them, it's a real chore, but fun, too. Then there are going to be the cattle drives. I figure large parts of the East Coast of the Federation will pay handsomely for some good beef. We've got the rail junctions, so all we need are the contacts."
"Well, the satellite phone systems are still working, and we have those satellite launch sites in Florida to put some more satellites up if those fail," I recalled. "I am not sure where such things get built, though."
"We are naked; and talking about satellites up in the coldness of outer space," Wilma teased me.
"That we are," I responded. "Above, or beneath the sheets?"
"I'm not ashamed of my body. You ashamed of it?"
"Oh, hell no!" I affirmed. "You like my body?"
"I like my men a bit older and meatier," she related.
"You like Jethro?" I had to ask.
"Nothing wrong with that," she replied, putting her fists on her hips. "He's a real man's man. I've seen them in movies from before (the Gender Plague), but never thought I would see one in the flesh."
"I'll let him know," I grinned.
"No need for that," she grinned right back.
"Oh; Oh!" I finally caught on. She and Jethro had already 'knocked boots'. They just hadn't advertised. Mind you, I would have thought Jethro only approved of women more Lavender's and Paisley's ages, but who knew?
"Don't go screaming it to the rafters," she cautioned me.
"Perish the thought," I shook my head. "Besides, Jethro would beat me black and blue if I brought it up."
"That he would." She then smiled broadly.
Man, she really liked Jethro. I suspected she really, really liked the man, too. How could I go about warning him without bringing up the precise subject; and not getting my ass beat? I pulled Wilma onto the bed with me. We kissed feverishly, my hands free to roam over her body, with her hands doing the same over mine.
Above the sheets was a good choice because before long, we both had a real sheen of sweat on both of us.
Israel’s cover gets blown.
"I swear by all that's holy," SA Connors exulted. "Mr. Israel Jensen; there you are."
"Hot damn. I'll call the boss. Let's end this charade," DIA SA Aquino brightened considerably. Now, let's get him before they figure out what's going on."
"Call base. I'll keep an eye out for any surprises," Connors said. Aquino snuck away from the small creek whose walls were their cover and then looped back to their Jeep.
"Singh, it's Connors. We have a clear identification of him and a possible current location within the Silverhorn ranch house."
"Good job," Singh's grin came across loud and clear over the airwaves. "Keep a vigil there until help arrives. I'm calling (Major General) McClellan. Inform us if anything changes. Singh; out."
"All right," Connors informed Aquino. "We are to sit tight and not be noticed," she thanked her lucky stars for the near-moonless night.
"One stakeout coming up," Connors joked.
She never saw the blade which slit her throat from behind. Aquino had just enough warning to roll over and claw at her firearm, when the baton came down and cracked her cranium, giving her a concussion, and knocking her unconscious.
"Go to hell, bitches," Verona 'Hedy' Sauvage whispered. "Both of you; enjoy hell."
She then dragged both bodies away from the edge of the creek bed. A minute later, their Jeep coasted down the slope and into the South Fork of the Shoshone River, as well. She couldn't leave it that exposed, just in case a patrol was launched by the women at the ranch.
Having heard both sides of the conversation, Verona knew she had run out of time. Still, her best bet to get Israel would be when the Federation agents attempted to assault the dwelling and get him out. All she had to do was wait for the proper time, for the enemy to set up their cordon, then unravel it from the outside, creating a corridor for her to enter, then leave with Israel. It would be risky, but this was the only chance she was going to get.
The Raid Preparations.
Major General (Wanda) McClellan didn't hesitate a minute before putting her plan in motion. She contacted every remaining unit in her crumbling command to fall back on Buckley Space Force Base (SFB) starting in nine hours. 1st Battalion, 157th Infantry Regiment would send out its healthiest company (Company B) for a seven-hour trek to Cody to seize the 'package'. They would be supported by Battery B, 3rd Battalion, 157th Field Artillery Regiment.
One squad from the 220th Military Police Company, and another from the 5th Battalion 19th Special Forces Group, would take some prepared STOL aircraft for a one-and-a-half-hour trip to Yellowstone Regional Airport. Once there the onsite DIA and FBI detachment would get them transport to set up a perimeter around the Silverhorn Ranch, and would engage only if the subject made a run for it. They knew reinforcements were on the way.
Finally, all the general could scrape together were three attack helicopters and one heavy transport helo from the 135th Aviation Regiment's once superior resources. Too many pilots were deathly ill, lives squandered trying to deliver hope, and supplies, to quarantined areas. Once the plague set foot on the base; well, that was it for them all. Everything had come down to those four helicopters.
Once they had the package they were to fall back on Buckley SFB. Medical units from across the theater would be rushing to Buckley to be working with the package to inoculate as many of the Middle Rockies Command as possible. This was really a life-or-death mission, and once they were on the road, or in the air, the soldiers, artillery-women, and air-women involved would know it, too.
It almost made her weep seeing as how her once vibrant command had been reduced by political considerations, as well as the plague, to just a handful of platoons, batteries and squads. Still, if any of her command was going to survive this catastrophe, she had to take the initiative immediately; while there was still time. After sending off her orders, she had two final commands to give. First;
"Joanna (Colonel Church of the 169th Field Artillery Brigade), I've transmitted my final battle plan concerning my command. I've got the bug. That's it for me. I am transferring what's left of my command to you," she said, then coughed.
"Oh; Goddamn it," Colonel Church groaned. "I'm still healthy, but for how long?"
"My plan may remedy that. Let the battle plan play out for sixteen hours, then do what needs to be done," McClellan stated. "You and your entire command are to retire to Beckley SFB. I think that perimeter can be held, while everything else goes to shit."
"Understood, General," the voice at the other end of the conversation saluted.
That accomplished, Major General McClellan had a bloody coughing fit. She had limited her exposure, once she suspected she had the plague. No reason to pollute the rest of her staff. But, it was too late. She had been masking the day-five symptoms as best she could, for the past twenty-four hours. Soon, the delirium would settle in, as her fever would overcome every medicine she was taking. It was time to go out on her own terms, not those of some damn bug's.
She drew her service pistol, placed it under her chin, and then contacted her adjutant with her final order.
"Sarah, I've got the bug. I'm in day six. Do not come into my office no matter what you hear."
"General?" her adjutant sounded worried and confused.
Even then, she along with the rest of her headquarters staff, were discovering their orders to 'bug out'. Denver was a lost cause anyway. Time to save what she could.
The sound of the automatic pistol going off was thunderous in the office complex the regional military commander possessed. Instantly, two military police, normally stationed just outside the adjutant's door, burst in.
"Stop!" the adjutant shouted. "Her final command. She had the bug. We are to stay out. Besides, looks like it is time to pack up and make for the Space Force Base."
The two MPs nodded, then retreated back to their posts. What else could they do?
Convoy Spotted.
"Holy shit," one of the mercenaries studying the traffic patterns announced. "Would you look at that? There is a huge column of vehicles rolling north out of Denver heading our way."
"Where are they heading to, precisely?" the She-Wolf insisted.
"Nothing so precise, Major," the merc responded. "We will know when the preliminary ground units land at the airport, though. Damn these National Guard chicks talk too much."
"Fine, let's move into Cody. Maxine, how many more locations are we looking at?"
"Down the South Fork within spitting distance of Cody; four. Seven up the North Fork, but those are also small time operations; not real rancheros."
"South Fork it is, then." Then she contacted her second vehicle. "Do it." With that, she drew down on Maria's other henchwoman and put a ten-millimeter hole in her forehead. Before Maria could react, the She-Wolf had her covered.
"We still might have a use for you, Miss Keverich," the woman stated. "Flinch the wrong way and those reasons go up in smoke. Clear?"
"Yes," Maria nodded.
She slowly removed her hand away from her pistol.
"Bethany, disarm Miss Keverich, please," the She-Wolf directed the 'package'. "Don't forget the gun at the small of her back, and her knife in her left boot."
"Yeah; yeah; Yes, ma'am," Bethany blubbered.
Maria didn't resist, and didn't try any sudden moves. If the She-Wolf had to shoot through Bethany to get at her, she would; no doubt. Bethany withdrew the weapons with trembling hands. She didn't dare meet Maria's gaze out of fear she would drop the weapons. She handed the weapons back to the second of the three mercenaries in their vehicle.
"Let's get these bodies into a field before they cause us to have to explain too much to the locals," She-Wolf commanded.
Maria exited the ride first. Though the sun had just set, the shadows of the mountain ridges gave the field, they were adjacent to, a supernatural gloom. Bethany and the other merc had to drag the former prison guard out and dump her in the field.
The two of the three mercs in the second vehicle did the same to the two of Maria's stalwarts in their ride. Clearly, they hadn't stood a chance when stacked up against professional killers with well-honed instincts. As for Maria; she was a feral animal locked in a cage. Her chance to break free was coming soon. She just had to wait; then strike at the moment for maximum carnage.
"All right, ladies, the cure is just down the road. We let the Federation troops do all the heavy lifting and killing, then swoop in and steal Mr. Jensen for ourselves. We fall back to the airport, steal a plane; our pilot confirms she can fly it out of here; and the ten of us begin the long flight home. Then it is Mai Tais on the beach with Mr. Jensen's little antibodies swimming in our veins, while the lights go out all around the globe."
A chorus of, "All right," went around, then they piled back in their rides and headed south in all due haste. The She-Wolf went to send off some coded communication to Dr. Delilah Fremont, most likely arranging for a transport aircraft to whisk them to safety from somewhere in the Mid-Mississippi, or Texas, provinces. Bethany sat back despondently in the front seat, thus out of Maria's reach; temporarily. All Maria needed was time, but was she going to get enough of it?
Sabotaging the saboteurs.
"Well, here is the answer to the mystery of why your agents haven't called in." Staff Sergeant Anna Warszawska knelt up from the bodies of the two deceased Federation operatives. "Throats slit, though the second one; the Filipina; took a nasty blow to the head first, before her throat was slit.
"They're on to us," Singh conjectured.
"Unlikely," the Special Forces NCO shook her head. "Not only does the house show no signs of frantic activity, the killer here used a blade when a gun would have been much safer and more effective. I doubt their sentries care about making too much noise."
"Then who?"
"Someone else is out here, tonight, playing a very dangerous game of tag. And, unless your agents were total clowns, they are very good at it. We have to change the game plan. Going out singly, or in groups of two, is merely inviting the same to happen again. We stick to three groups. Your DIA/FBI group moves across the river and takes up a position in the wood line along the river bank. Remember your spacing, unless you want to end up like your two agents."
"Be nice and quiet. Only shoot at objects which are clearly women."
"Who put you in charge?" SAC Singh protested, angrily.
"The Goddess herself," the Staff Sergeant replied. "You want my eight women to help you pull this off, you go by my plan because I am the one with previous experience fighting insurgents and capturing their positions."
Singh looked away, still hurt by the loss of her agents.
"Lieutenant?" The Special Forces trooper looked to the leader of the Military Police squad.
"Oh no," she shook her head. "If this was anything approaching a normal bust; but it's not. We'll do what you say."
"Okay then. Lieutenant, split your command in two. The first half-squad circles around to the south, using the irrigation ditch there to come to the bridge. The second half-squad is going to cross the creek to 'this' bend and cover the house from the east."
"Got it." The military police squad nodded in agreement. Their job would be to shoot engine blocks and tries to keep the road shut down.
"My command will break up into two units. Both will cross the river about here, then move adjacent to the ranch house, depositing four to keep an eye from that angle and me and three others will continue southwest, re-cross the river and infiltrate the woods 'here'; so be careful who you shoot at. When the infantry arrives, our first section will join mine keeping that back road shut. Questions?"
"What do the rest of us do if they make a break, out in a different direction?" Singh asked.
"Start picking off women," Warszawska explained.
"That's murder."
"This mission involves the extinction of the human race, Singh," the NCO studied her associate. "We have no choice."
"I've got no problem with that," the Lieutenant spoke up. "We've lost far too many friends and colleagues to this damn plague to puss out now. As long as it's a woman, we will put them down unless they surrender and lay the fuck down first."
"Keeping them alive and taking prisoners is your thing," the Staff Sergeant shrugged. "Unless they are running away and clearly unarmed, we are putting them down."
Fifteen meters away, Verona was listening intently to every word spoken. She admired the Special Forces commander's dedication, thus she made a mental note of killing her if at all possible before the real fireworks began. The rest were a clown show; police, no matter how well trained, weren't prepared for the training and hardware the Vanishers would bring to the fight. The idea there were reinforcements on the way was, indeed, troubling.
By Dawn's Early Light.
The Information Age had been officially declared dead with the advent of the Gender Plague. Currently, historians agreed we lived in the 'Post Plague Era' but most people believed we were in the End Times instead. The problem was, since the end of the first major outbreaks of the Gender Plague, technology had marched on.
Nothing terribly new was invented; certainly not anything a person from sixty years ago wouldn't recognize. Air cars were still a dream for the future, as were colonies in space and on Mars, or perhaps the Asteroid Belt. No, we knew we would take the Gender Plague with us; women became infected, but suffered no ill effects; so until we killed the Gender Plague, we had agreed to stay on Earth.
With the new plague coming for us all, people were rethinking the whole idea about colonies beyond the gravity well. Too late by then, though.
Back to the technology thing. The advances in satellite and drone technologies over the past sixty years, while incremental, were still somewhat of a wonderment to the women analyzing their data, or flying those drones.
"Israel, Wilma," Wendy whispered to us from the doorway. She was crouched down so no one else could see her. "Bad news coming this way. Time to initiate Plan Philippa."
Plan Eloise was our 'bug out' plan. Philippa was;
I rolled out of bed and quickly began dressing on my knees. My vest, knife and pistol were my constant companions, but my assault rifle was with Zara; in theory, she was currently asleep downstairs.
"Wilma, don't get up. Roll out of bed the way Israel did," Wendy cautioned our hostess.
She complied.
I could hear the whole house stirring, though their actions were muted by their extreme caution. Downstairs, where my coterie slept after lights out, people were being as quiet as they could. We also realized both boys; Jethro was always identified as a 'man'; were in the ranch hands' dormitory.
We might not be able to rescue them. As it was, at some point we had to get out the front, side, or back doors, though the back door led to nothing but a slit trench and the river beyond it. The side door led into the half-constructed new addition to the ranch house, while the front door led to another slit trench (southwest), the two FBI all-terrain rides (southwest), or the walled-in car park (northwest).
Downstairs, Jethro was on the landline to the bunkhouse, rousing those women and our two guys. Pierre had his pistol and rifle, but Barabbas remained stubbornly unarmed. Lavender was outfitting Jethro in his armored vest, while he spoke in a calm, quiet voice over our communication network. Everyone was kneeling, or moving about at a low crouch so as to not tip off the forces surrounding us.
Sadly, the DIA/FBI team had shotgun mics and IR goggles. Both the Special Forces and Military Police had plenty of IR binoculars as well as 'Starlight' (low-light) goggles built into their gear.
Inside the ranch house, Wilma had binoculars which mimicked their technology; for hunting wolves, cougars, coyotes and even the occasional rogue grizzly. The ranch hands had identical devices in their storeroom, which they were immediately accessing.
An issue of hostage-taking etiquette took over. Normally, the surrounding party introduced itself, gave the 'you are surrounded' speech, then requested the criminals to give up. The problem with that was the SF Amazons were opposed to exposing themselves so early in the encounter, gambling the surrounded party didn't have a full picture of what was going on; which was an incorrect assumption. We did know both their location, and composition.
Our problem was one of abandoning Wilma in the lurch like this. We believed we could blast our way out of the current containment forces (Plan Eloise). The troops heading our way; far less likely. Worse, they had artillery. Even worse than that, they had three attack helicopters and a large transport copter following along. Wilma had an answer to that, though.
She picked up her phone and called the Cody chief of police, Hazel Rowe.
"Chief, this is Wilma Silverhorn. They are coming for Jensen in a big way and I am not sure we can keep him secure, or if they can even fight free."
"Well damn; I was afraid this day would come. Hang in there." Hazel snapped to wakefulness, and then she hung up, leaving us all unsure how Cody would respond.
Seconds later, the militia alert went off on every computer, e-device and phone within fifty kilometers of Cody.
'Silverhorn Ranch under
assault by Federation military.
I am gathering the Militia to repel all foreign entities from our township and
surrounding areas.
As this is an act of open rebellion I understand if you don't show up.
Chief Hazel Rowe'
Within thirty minutes, over five hundred women had answered the call from as far afield as Powell and Wapiti. South of the Silverhorn Ranch, two dozen women from the area gathered four kilometers away on horseback, planning to launch a raid against the blocking forces the moment the primary attack began. All the while, the brevet major (former captain) saw the forces gathering to oppose her and her mission.
She wasn't worried until the Cody militia blasted the lead drone out of the air. See, the militia had scavenged the battlefield at Eagle Pass and had quite the arsenal of heavy weapons, with a small number of former reservists, who knew the general principles of using these lethal weapons in battle. They had even bolted down two recoilless rifles the Condors had brought to the fight in the back of pick-up trucks.
Now the major faced a dilemma. She had one hundred and sixteen infantry women in her plague-reduced company, and one hundred and eight artillery women in her reduced battery up against roughly twice that number. Trying to move rapidly using the roads was no longer an option, as she didn't want to get into a slugging match in the interior of Cody; so she broke off one platoon to guard the battery while the other two platoons cut cross country to Highway 291 opposite the Buffalo Bill Reservoir.
Her lead IFV (Infantry Fighting Vehicle) led the charge off-road. Her follow-up four IFV, five APCs (Armored Personnel Carriers) and one command IFV kept after her. The major, too, felt the sense of desperation her higher-ups felt. Her once powerful infantry battalion had been worn down to these twelve armored fighting vehicles and eighty-five women-warrior attack force.
That would allow them to move and capture the package before we could escape, or so it was hoped. She sent off her orders then led the way to the west, over the rugged ground between where she was and Highway 120; aka Southfork road. The artillery battery had three missions.
Plaster Cody if the militia came out after the main thrust;
shoot down any drones (not knowing most of the Vanisher intelligence came from a trio of spy satellites); then finally;
to protect their own position for when the ground thrust withdrew.
The helicopters were to keep pace with the main thrust, while the heavy transport helicopter was to wait over Highway 120 and only intervene once the package had been secured. The battery was setting up when their security force spotted a small drone coming out of Cody; and shot it down with the first of their Manpads. Slowly, the dark skies were turning grey in the east. The major then contacted Buckley (SFB) and let them know the attack force was going in.
No one wished her luck. Everyone knew the risks involved and the price of failure. On the plus side, her vehicles; the IFVs and APCs; were immune to the rifle fire of the militia whereas the same could not be said for the Jeeps and pick-up trucks of their foes. They sprayed thirty-millimeter and fifty-millimeter autocannon fire amongst their enemies at random, until the second IFV took a hundred-and-five-millimeter recoilless rifle round and was blown off the pathway they were hurdling down at best speed.
That vehicle didn't get a second shot off; raked with fire by an attack helicopter; but the second one did, claiming an APC and the eleven precious troopers within. Worse, the warding helicopter dodged one, but not the second Manpad aimed its way. Down it went in a fireball of burning parts, lives and weaponry. Finally, having run the gauntlet of the 'high ground' separating the two highways, they dropped down into the relative safety of the South Fork of the Shoshone River Valley.
Southward, they raced and it appeared to be just in time. The blocking force was in a world of trouble. Instead of trying to break free, the forces within were stalking the blocking forces and eliminating them one at a time. Only the DIA/FBI force remained intact, but in turn, their impact in the fight was negligible seeing as few of the forces within the Silverhorn compound were offering themselves up as targets.
Six of the Vanishers were engaging the nine members of the 19th Special Forces squad; killing one and wounding three; pinning the rest in place with grenades and machine-gun fire. Zara took the confusion to reach the top of a tree on the southern corner of the Silverhorn Complex and began sniping the Military Police in the creek bed. The Silverhorn twins warded the northeast corner of the house, but thankfully had nothing to shoot at; yet.
At the same time, Jethro, Flame and Davia scrambled over to Mower Creek itself, enfiladed the force at the bridge, then rushed in, eliminating them. Then we could make our escape, except we didn't want to. Besides, outrunning the three; now two; attack helicopters wasn't a realistic possibility. At the same time, the badly wounded Military Police lieutenant relayed her situation; the fact that the bridge was unguarded; as well as her troops being either dead, or seriously wounded.
That done, she closed her eyes and took a deep, painful breath. When she opened them again, there was this really old guy; like some deranged Santa Claus; staring down at her.
"Any last words?" he asked her.
"Why?"
"Cause you are fucking evil," Jethro answered then he shot her in her right shoulder just outside her armored vest. She'd be dying for a short while, but she wasn't dead yet.
"Did ya miss?" Flame chided him.
"Nah, I hit what I aimed at. Let's gather up their grenades and their rifles. They have built-in grenade launchers," Jethro instructed.
Davia didn't have to be told twice. Flame still preferred her twelve-millimeter hand cannon, but she did bother to reload it. That accomplished, the three killers stealthed down the creek to see if they could work their way around those Special Forces pukes and finish them off as well. Already, by the volume of fire, they could tell some of the ranch hands had joined the Vanishers in keeping the SF types occupied.
Back in the ranch house, the first of the wounded were being brought in. I stood sentry at the door, along with Pierre. They wouldn't let us go out to gather up the fallen, despite the necessity. Barabbas remained in the bunkhouse, safely under a mattress where the women there had stashed him. As for me, seeing Kuiko, Capri, Venus, and Lavender heading out into danger was heartbreaking; and then the helicopters arrived.
We utilized the last of our Manpads to eliminate one, but whomever fired it from the shelter of the carpark soon inherited a world of hate as the third, and final, helicopter zoomed over the field south of the creek and showered the car park with an autocannon volley of furious revenge. In hindsight, they refused to utilize their rocket pods out of fear they might blast me to smithereens by accident. That was it for me, though. I knew we had three of our Vanishers in there and I had to get them out; to make sure they were still alive.
I raced out the door and across the open area between the car park and the ranch house. Bullets from across the South Fork of the Shoshone River hurried me along, but stopped before they could get a bead on me. Only when I reached the ruins of the car park did I realize I had forgotten my helmet, thus was clearly a guy. Then Kuiko slammed into me. They had been shooting at her all along, not me.
"Kuiko, that was insane!" I admonished her.
"You said you would stop trying to die," she countered.
"I am a man, Kuiko. Rushing toward danger is what we are supposed to do," I shook my head. Then I began looking around in the dim light reflected down from the mountain peaks forewarning us of dawn on the way.
I didn't have to look far for my heart to drop. It was Wes Prince with her expended Manpad by her side. She had been shredded by the shrapnel blown around the rounds hitting the concrete foundation and the Hummers then trapped inside. Her eyes were wide open. Her lips; open as if she was about to yell at me for risking my life; never again, though.
Despite the racket going about, I heard someone groaning. The second Hummer was totally destroyed yet had, somehow, shielded Jen when I discovered her in a tangled mess of; all kinds of shit. Our communications array was totally gone, but I could still save her. I picked her up, arms under her knees and upper back then tried to exit. Surely, me being a man would save us both.
I stepped out and machine-gun fire drove me back in. They weren't going to let me leave. Jen was dying, damn it!
"I got this," Kuiko told me.
She sprinted to the back of the shed and the final Hummer. She propped open the back, yanked out, then dragged that ancient Sam (surface-to-air missile) from some other country, as well as some other place in time, toward the entrance.
"No!" I insisted, "They will kill you!"
"Jen is dying," she riposted. "It is this, or do nothing, and she dies."
For an instant, the helicopter pivoted and began firing another barrage from her autocannon into the woods in which the Special Forces and Vanishers were fighting. Kuiko muttered something then raced out into the open doorway.
She somehow pulled the heavy device up onto her shoulder. She did something (Jethro had told her how to disengage the safety) and; hesitated. She was waiting for the IR detector to latch on to its target. The problem was the modern electric engines were far more powerful than electric engines of the time the Sam was built, yet ran far cooler.
The pilot and gunner of the attack helicopter knew none of this. Though they didn't know the make, or model, of this device, they knew a Sam when they saw one. The pilot pivoted back at the same time the gunner swiveled her autocannon to engage the Sam gunner before they were blown to pieces like their other two sister aircraft.
Though we were nearly side by side, I could see over Kuiko's shoulder the light going from red to green. Kuiko muttered a prayer then pulled the trigger. At the same instant, the helicopter gunner began walking their autocannon fire straight into Kuiko. I heard her scream. Her body vanished in a cloud of dust, missile contrail, and exploding earth and concrete flooring.
Kuiko was dead, or dying! I had to check.
I was placing Jen back down under the shelter of the twisted door when a chthonic voice out of my past reached out to me.
"Israel, it is time for us to be going," she calmly informed me.
I damn near froze up, or wet myself, out of a supreme sense of fear. The Aurora Slasher had finally come back for me.
Instead of panicking, though, a deeper instinct kicked in. My lady-friends were in danger and I had to act to save them. I stood up and came face to face with Verona Sauvage.
"My friends are pretty badly hurt," I responded. "I have to get them both back to the ranch house. People there can save their lives."
"I have the answer for their salvation right here," she motioned with her pistol
Her rifle was slung over her back. Her knife was at her side. Her clothing was wet. She had swum the river to come get me.
"Step aside," she commanded.
For the first time in our 'relationship', I realized the price of true freedom and what I had to do had never been clearer.
"Oh; " I got out.
Then it was all training and technique. My hand flew to my pistol, yanked it free of its holster then came up into the classic two-hand firing stance. I could see the incredulous look in her eyes, we were that close. Her pistol, aimed at Jen, swung back to cover me. I somehow recalled seven shots ringing out in rapid succession. Somehow, I thought being shot would hurt more;
By FinalStand for Literotica