Quaranteam-Northwest: Part 1

Pandemic Survivors, Harems and the Pacific Northwest.

Based on a post by Break The Bar. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

To combat the deadly Duo Halo virus, the government will change the lives of Harrison Black and his friends out in the hills of Oregon. In return, Harrison finds a new purpose to his life in the midst of losing his family history.

The House Guest.

I glanced away again, relatively certain that Erica hadn't noticed my involuntary glance down at her cleavage but not overly worried. The grocery store parking lot was only half full, but we were waiting out front and I felt like we were in a bread line in Soviet Russia. The only good news was that it was a warm spring for Oregon State, and a clear day, so Erica and I weren't bundled up in jackets or anything.

Of course, we were still getting used to the masks.

"This feels ridiculous," Erica said, adjusting the bandana covering her lower face. She'd done her makeup as usual, with soft but smoky eyeshadow, and her thick dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun. Erica was a well-put-together lady, with the hips and bust of a woman who had aged perfectly into her thirties. I'd known her through our late twenties, and I wasn't ashamed to say I thought she'd only gotten hotter with time. Her black jeans clung to her hips and ass, and the black sweater she was wearing unzipped over a ripped band t-shirt accented the v of her cleavage that I'd been trying not to glance at.

"At least it's not the middle of winter," I said. "Imagine this going on in January, in a snowstorm?"

"We'll never need to see that," said the old man in front of us in line. He was wearing a hunting gaiter, but it was riding low on his upper lip. "This ain't the first virus, it won't be the last. Couple of weeks and the panic will die down. We'll have practically forgotten it by the fall, I bet."

"Hopefully," Erica nodded.

They'd announced the quarantine two weeks ago, and it had gone into effect last week. My roommate Leo and I had invited Erica, his sister, up from Portland; she was going to be cooped up in her apartment alone for the two-week shutdown and we had plenty of space on my old family property. Erica had made the drive the day before the statewide quarantine kicked in, having locked up the Tattoo Parlor she managed, and it had been a week of sun, hiking and ATV tours through the property, along with teaching her how to throw an axe and shoot some archery. Next week we were planning to show her the ropes on gun safety, and let her try out some of my grandfather's old hunting rifles.

Erica was game for it all, and it felt like a mini vacation for all three of us.

What Leo and I hadn't planned for was making meals for three instead of two, and so now a week in Erica and I were braving a trip into town trying to figure out exactly what we were and weren't supposed, or allowed, to do.

Erica turned to say something to me, but her sentence was cut off by the heavy thrum and backfiring of a pair of ugly pickups rumbling into the parking lot of the grocery store on jacked-up wheels, halfway to 'monster truck.' They parked near the back, near my own truck, both vehicles with the stupid 'truck nuts' swinging from the hitches on the back and one of them with a big confederate flag sticker in the back window.

"Jesus, I thought rednecks were supposed to come from the South," Erica muttered.

"There are rednecks in every part of every country," I sighed. "Ask me about German rednecks sometime. Those people are weird."

Five men unloaded from the two pickups, and I could see someone still sitting inside one of the cabs. I immediately took in everything I needed to know about the men; my brain couldn't shut off the instinct. Five military-aged males, three who looked like they could handle a bit of a fight. None of them were carrying firearms, no obvious sign of concealed weapons, but several had utility knives sheathed on their belts. Not that uncommon out here in the foothills of western Oregon. Three of them were wearing army surplus combat boots, one was wearing what looked like steel-toe construction boots, and one was wearing hiking boots. Their clothes were blue-collar casual. Rough, in other words.

None of them were wearing any form of a mask. The debate was still out in the news; first, we were supposed to wear masks, then they said it wasn't going to be helpful, and now they were saying wearing masks might be the most important thing. Everyone seemed confused about the issue, but everyone in line outside the grocery store was wearing one of some sort or other.

"Are they seriously going to just?" Erica muttered.

The rednecks were heading straight for the entrance to the store, looking to bypass the ten or so folks in line ahead of us and another six behind us. I could see the panic in the eyes of the pimple-faced teen manning the door. He had no fucking clue what to do about it.

"Ah, shit," I muttered, already stepping out of line.

"Harrison," Erica cautioned me. "It's not worth it. What's the point?"

"If not me, then who?" I asked her, then raised my fingers to my lips and blasted a whistle that echoed across the parking lot.

Everyone turned and looked at me. All the folks in line, the rednecks as they were about to bull their way past the boy, and the beleaguered kid who I'd already watched bumble through explaining the line to annoyed people, let these alone belligerent assholes.

"Hey," I yelled, but tried to keep my voice more friendly than commanding. "How about you guys show some respect to the folks out here and just grab a spot in line?"

"How about you suck my nuts? We aren't sheeple, we know our rights," one of them yelled.

"Yeah, this place can't deny us service, we've got rights," another shouted.

"There's a difference between rights and being polite," I said. "Old folks are waiting to get their groceries, you boys can wait fifteen minutes."

"You got a problem with us?" Another one shouted. "You know who the fuck we are?"

"Harrison," Erica sighed.

"I ain't got a goddamn clue who you are," I said. "And I don't care beyond the fact that you're acting like assholes."

Two of them immediately started coming towards me down the line, the other three hesitating a moment before following.

Fuck. I'd been hoping they were just some bully idiots, but the two in the lead were way angrier than they should have been.

"Take a few steps back and don't get involved, E," I said quietly. "I'll be fine, but you can't get involved, Okay?"

"Harry, what the actual fuck? There are five of them. This is a fucking parking lot. We should just call the cops!" she whispered back.

"I'd listen to your fella," the old guy in the gaiter said. "We got one State Trooper somewhere in thirty square miles of here; would likely take too long to do any good."

"You wanna say that to my face, you fucking fuck?" one of the men said. I'd taken a few more steps out of line, and he got up within a foot of me with his teeth bared and a fist raised threateningly. "I'm a god damned sovereign citizen, and I got every right to protect my dignity, honor and good name against fucks like you."

"Yeah," I said, looking down at him as I breathed in deep and let my full size loom over him. The guy was probably 6'1 or so, but I was 6'6 in my stockings and had an extra couple inches over that from my own hiking boots. "I said you guys are acting like assholes, and otherwise I could give one single shit about who you think you are."

"You motherfucker, I'm gonna,"

"Harrison?" One of the three guys in the back asked. He was one of the ones I'd identified as not being much of a fighter. "Harrison Black, right? You played Defensive End at Eisenhower."

"Uh, yeah," I said. "That was a while ago though..."

"Oh man, dude. It's me, Barry O'Callahan. I was a year behind you," the guy said. "Guys, this dude almost single-handedly ran our high school defense. Didn't you end up joining the military or something?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, squinting and looking at Barry. "Really? Barry O?"

"Heh, yeah I filled out a bit since I was a junior," the man laughed, his gut jiggling with the effort. "And then I filled out a bit more. How are you doing, man? When did you get out of the service?"

"Well, I'm doing fine, Barry. Been out going on seven years. But this is a bit awkward," I said.

The interruption had been as confusing a moment for the two hotheads in their group as it had been for me. They were looking back and forth between us, trying to decide if they were still mad at me, or mad at Barry, or were just giving it up.

"Oh, yeah. Uh, don't worry guys, Harrison is cool, Okay?" Barry said. "Dude, are you just in the area visiting or what?"

"I've been up at the family place for the last few years since Pop died," I said.

"Oh man, I'm sorry," Barry said. "But hey, can't believe we didn't run into each other until now. Who'd a thunk, huh? Here dude, you should come out to the clubhouse sometime. We'll grab some brews, catch a game or something." Barry pulled a crumpled matchbook out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. The front had a WWII-style blonde pinup girl on a navy background with a white star behind her, invoking the flag. The Golden Beaver and an address was printed in tiny letters on the backside. It would have been a funnier innuendo if they weren't referencing the Oregon state flag.

"Yeah, maybe," I said.

"Come on, guys," Barry said, slapping his two hot head friends on the shoulders. "Let's get in line. Nice seeing you, Harrison."

"Yeah, you too Barry," I said. And then shook my head as the five men headed back towards the end of the line.

"What the fuck was that?" Erica asked me as I joined her back in line, and we moved up a couple spaces as the teen at the door let more people into the store.

"Honestly, I thought I was about to spend the night in county lockup," I said. "Fuckin' Barry O."

"He seemed like a fan of yours," Erica smirked. "Big high school football star, huh?"

"I was a little above average at best," I said. "And I wasn't an idiot. Easy to look good when the rest of the team sucks." I looked down at the matchbook again and shook my head, showing it to Erica.

She snorted and took it. "Is this real? Please tell me you aren't going to go join their little redneck club."

"Not likely," I said. "It's a wannabe militia group. Bunch of swinging cocks with no sway."

"What?"

"Cause they're so small. It's a tiny penis joke."

Erica smirked again and rolled her eyes. "You child. Can you do me a favor?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"Maybe, for the foreseeable future, you keep the whole Walking Tall routine to a minimum?"

"I'm sorry, did you just make a Dwayne Johnson, early 2000s movie reference?"

"Yeah, I did," Erica grinned. "What are you going to do about it?"

"We need to get you to watch some better movies," I laughed.

"Hey, son," the old man ahead of us said quietly. "Seriously, could you have taken those guys?"

I glanced back at them at the end of the line, muttering to each other. "Probably, if I was right. If I got three of them, the other two wouldn't have done anything."

"Heh. Would have liked to have seen that," the old man grinned.

"Don't encourage him," Erica said. "He hasn't gotten into a fight on my watch yet, I don't want him to start now."

"Yeah," I said. "But that's mostly because you're the one who usually starts throwing punches at the bar."

"Hey, a guy gets handsy, I put him in his place," Erica shrugged.

"No 'Walking Tall' shit, my ass," I snorted.

"You two make a fine, rowdy couple," the old man said.

"Oh, we're not a couple," Erica said.

"Just friends," I said.

"He's my brother's roommate," Erica clarified. "I'm just visiting."

The old man raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Alright. Well, maybe you two should consider toning down the flirting then. You're likely to attract bears with all the hormones you're putting out."

"Erica, Erica! No, you cannot punch him," I said, holding her back.

"Hey, Erica? Can we talk to you for a minute?"

Erica looked up from her phone with a cocked eyebrow and a pensive smile. I immediately realized how weird and out of character our approach was. She was lounging on the couch in the living room, her sketchbook tossed to the side with a half-finished something scribbled out in frustration like she'd been trying to work but just couldn't get it right. I knew how she felt, having had the same frustrations ever since the quarantine had been announced.

"Sure guys, what's up?" she asked.

I let Leo sit down next to his sister on the couch as she sat up, and I took my usual chair. It had been my Father's up until he passed; I'd avoided it the first month after he died and I took over the family homestead. Then when my older sister Valerie and her family came to stay for that summer, she practically pushed me into it. 'It's just a chair,' became our catchphrase for the summer as we sorted through the belongings of our parents and grandparents.

"I'm sorry," I said as I settled into the chair. "This is already coming off weird. Erica, it's nothing."

"You're making it seem like it's something," Erica said. She turned to her twin. "What's going on?"

Leo and Erica were both a couple of years older than me, but once you were into your early thirties that kind of stuff meant a lot less. Leo had the looks of a classic Italian paisan with thick dark hair, a hawk beak of a nose and bushy eyebrows. He was built thin and a little lanky, and was usually ready with an eager smile and word of encouragement for anyone he met. That's probably why we'd gotten along so well when we started rooming together; his positive attitude had been just what I needed coming out of the Army.

Erica had a lot of the same features as her brother; the thick dark hair, the ready smile, the energetic sparkle in her eyes; but she also had a sensuality to her that I can't say I'd ever noticed in Leo. She was a little more patient, a little more sure of herself and willing to take charge of things. And that control went all the way to her fitness, as she hadn't let herself slide even through quarantine.

Leo sighed. "No, it's nothing. Well, I mean I guess it's something, but it's not,"

"How about we just say it, instead of talking about talking about it?" I said.

"Yeah," Erica nodded. "How about that?"

"Well, uh, Harrison?" Leo looked at me, which I guess was fair considering this was my house at the end of the day.

"Erica, we're almost a month into the quarantine now," I said. "I know that when we invited you down out of the city to stay with us, it was supposed to only be for a couple of weeks. 'Two weeks to flatten the curve' and all that shit. But things don't seem to be getting any better."

"No, it's fine," Erica said, sitting up straighter in her seat and pulling away from her brother. "I know I've been imposing on you guys. It's fine, I can head back down to Portland and I'll just,"

"Jesus Christ, Erica," Leo said. "We're not kicking you out."

"You're not?" she asked. I realized that she was clenching her fists in her lap so hard she was trembling slightly.

"Not a shot, E," I said. "We just wanted to make sure that you knew we want you to stay as long as you want or need. We love having you here."

For the first time in my life, I saw Erica's lower lip tremble. "Really?" she asked. Back in the city she was the manager of one of the most successful tattoo and piercing parlors in the state, herding artsy workers that acted like cats with constant access to catnip. Erica was firm but fair with her artists, managed a clientele that ran the gamut from rich and entitled assholes to meth'd out deadbeats, and kept her own skills sharp with constant discipline and practice. Every time we had hung out in the years before the quarantine, I'd always been struck by how forceful a personality she was; she could smack talk with the best of them, manhandle a drunk in a bar like an experienced bouncer, and laughed loud and full-bellied.

Seeing her on the verge of tears was a shock, and I realized we probably should have had this talk two weeks ago. "Yes, of course we do," I said. "God, you're practically family, Erica. I don't think I could let you go back and stay in the city right now. We love you."

The damn burst and as thick tears began to pour over her cheeks and streak her dark eyeliner she reached out and pulled Leo into a hug with one arm. She beckoned for me with the other and I crossed the space to wrap her up in a hug as well.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly between us. "I know you guys wouldn't; but still. Everything going on out there, and the way the city is right now... I just didn't"

"It's going to be fine," Leo said to his sister, squeezing her harder. "You'll see."

She kissed him on the cheek, then turned and kissed me on the cheek as well. "Thank you."

I gave her a bit of a squeeze in return. "We'll need to go get some more of your stuff, I guess. You only came down here with a duffle bag."

She laughed. "God, yes," she said and tried to wipe her tears. "I can go up there. I could use some more underwear, ha-ha."

"Too much information!" Leo said, releasing his sister.

She sniffed hard to clear her nose and wiped her cheeks some more to clear her spilt makeup and tears. Erica had a sort of post-punk or light goth style, with thick eyeliner and soft but smoky eyeshadow. For someone in the tattoo business, she had relatively few piercings, just two in each earlobe and a single small, silver nose ring on one nostril. She made up for it with a pair of full sleeve tattoos on her arms and a collection of assorted smaller tattoos on her legs. "What, you don't want to hear about me sweating through my bras?" She laughed at her brother. "Come on, Leo, we're all adults here."

I laughed at her teasing and she squeezed me to her with the one arm she still had around my shoulder. She turned and kissed me on the cheek again. "I can go down to the city by myself, you guys don't need to risk yourselves for me. All the news reports are saying this thing is extra dangerous for men."

"No, we'll help," I said. "We don't know how long this thing will last, so we'll bring the pickup and you can bring your car. And if you get exposed, you'd bring it back here with you anyways, so we might as well try and do it as fast as possible. Three sets of hands will make things go easier."

"Okay," she nodded, then with a last squeeze of my shoulders she eased away and stood up. "Okay. Well, damn, guys. This feels like a fucking weight lifted off my shoulders. I've felt like I've been overstaying my welcome, not that you guys did anything to make me think that. I just,”

"It's fine," I said. "We understand."

"I don't," Leo said. "You've been all up in my personal space since the dam womb. You never had a problem with it before now."

"Come here, you twerp," Erica laughed, slapping her brother on the arm.

"Alright, alright," I said. "Come on, children. Let's make a plan here. No time like the present, if we get everything ready we can head out tomorrow."

 

Leo and I had first become roommates when he sublet me a room as I came out of the military seven years ago and wanted to move back to the Portland area. Then, when my father passed and I needed to move back to the family property, Leo had been more than happy to come on up with me instead of trying to find someone new to take over my half of the house lease. The old ranch-style house I'd grown up in had plenty of room, and my mother had died a few years before Dad, so it worked out for both of us. Even before the quarantine was announced we'd both been working from the homestead; my freelance illustration and concept art gigs kept the bills and property tax under control and food on the table, and Leo had swapped to making artisanal furniture in his little shed workshop instead of the house framing and cabinetry he'd been trained in. The old barn made a decent new workshop for him after a couple of upgrades, and once I'd gotten a satellite installed for point-to-point internet service we were... Well, we hadn't exactly been living the technological dream, but we had what we needed.

The drive down to Portland from the homestead outside Jewell took a bit over an hour and a half on a good day with moderate traffic. It only took us an hour, in the middle of the day. I drove my truck, the cover on over the bed, and Leo rode with Erica in her car. The highways were practically empty, and for a while the drive almost felt like just a beautiful day out; other than the thick sweater I was wearing, and the work gloves I'd duct taped to the cuffs. I also had a pair of bandanas hung around my neck, ski goggles sitting on the passenger seat, and the hood of my sweater pulled up.

It was the middle of a hot spring and I was sweating my ass off in my own truck just in case of death by viral infection. Even in the last couple of weeks, all the messaging online from the Government about what to do for safety felt like it had been conflicting with itself constantly, and when Leo and Erica tried to do more research they couldn't even figure out which politician or government body to listen to, let alone find something useful and convincing. So we went all out.

Driving through the suburbs was a bit of an experience. One neighborhood would be completely desolate, not a single person outside and everything locked up tight. The next would be full of people outside on the street, walking dogs and kids running around playing. Most of them had those medical masks on, but it looked like people were out on summer vacation or something. The neighborhood after that was mostly shut down like the first, but one of the houses easily had thirty vehicles parked around it and was hosting some sort of party going on in the front and back yard.

Somehow, despite the world feeling so alien, I still found driving through the city even weirder. Getting into the urban center where Erica had a small apartment near the Tattoo Parlor was like we'd hit the end of the world. Even more than in the suburbs, the near complete lack of people was shocking. We could go entire city blocks without seeing another car, and then suddenly we'd come across a food delivery driver peddling down the middle of the city street on a bike. The only other motorized vehicles I saw were one dude on an electric scooter having the time of his life, and ambulances speeding down the streets with their lights running. They didn't even bother with the sirens.

Crackle, crackle. "Hey, Harrison? You read me? Over."

I picked up my handheld radio and pressed the button. "Yeah, I read you, Leo. Over."

"So we need to take a detour. There's a bunch of stuff online about this Autonomous Zone thing. Protestors in the middle of the city. We're going to avoid it. Over."

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll follow. Over and out."

I shook my head. The protests had started about a week ago. Halfway across the country, a man had been shot by police; investigations were ongoing, but no one looked good in the situation. Not the cops, not the man, not even the bystanders who had filmed the whole thing instead of intervening. It was a shit show all around, and it had sparked protests that I could only assume were fueled by people feeling so trapped in their own lives. Portland, ever a liberal center of activism, had been a hotbed every night. Vigils and marches every afternoon and evening. Then the riots started at night.

We drove down a couple of streets that looked like we'd left the United States behind and entered a foreign warzone. I'd seen streets in Kabul during my deployment that had looked similar; the only thing missing from the burned-out cars, graffiti and general detritus were bullet scars on the walls. Windows that weren't boarded over were smashed. Storefronts were burnt out, looted, or both.

It took us an extra twenty minutes to drive all the way around the 'autonomous zone.' By the time we pulled up into the alley behind Erica's apartment building, I was feeling sick to my stomach. A pandemic. Riots. What was next, a natural disaster? I'd seen some of the world; not a lot, but enough. Some of the best and worst places. We were supposed to be better than this.

Taking the back stairwell was part of the plan. We didn't want to draw any attention from people; for all that Portland was that liberal bed of activism I'd just been thinking about, it was also still an urban center plagued by theft, crime and people trying to take advantage of each other. With no one on the streets, I'd suggested that pulling up out front made us more of a target to people looking to cause trouble, or attracting the attention of overzealous police.

I pulled my truck in next to Erica's car and hopped out. "Alright, make sure you lock up," I said.

"Harri, please," Erica said, sliding down her own ski goggles over her eyes. We were all bundled up now, with multiple face coverings each. "I've lived in the city about eight times longer than you ever did. I know how to handle myself."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "I'm just a little anxious."

"It's fine, dude," Leo said. "Let's just get this done."

Erica let us into the building, keying in through a back door, and up through the stairwell. We didn't see anyone on the way up, and she led us through the halls to her apartment. As she let us in, one of her neighbors opened their door and stuck their head out.

"Erica? Dear, is that you?" It was a woman, maybe in her fifties.

"Hey, Dianne," Erica said. "It's me. I'm just here to pick up some things, and I brought my brother and his roommate to help out."

Dianne stepped fully out of her apartment. She was dressed comfortably and had her silvering blonde hair pulled back into a bun. Most notably, she wasn't wearing a mask or any other sort of personal protection. "It's so nice to see you, Erica!" she said. "It's been quiet up here the last few weeks. I have to say, I never thought I'd actually miss your early morning banging around, but I do."

"Ah, Dianne," Erica said, holding up her hands. She was wearing rubber gloves, duct taped at the wrists to her sweater just like my work gloves were. "We really shouldn't get any closer than this."

"Oh, dear, it's fine," Dianna said. "I've been cooped up in the apartment for a week now, the only person who comes over is Mr. Jones from 5C for coffee every few days. I'm sure you've been just as safe, living out of the city."

"No, really Dianne," Erica said. "I don't mean to be rude, but we're only here to get some of my things and go. And I know Mr. Jones is probably lonely up there, but it's not safe for you two to get together for coffee. You should really just skype each other or something."

"Oh, I already have to do that Zoomy thing to see my grandkids," Dianna scoffed. "But fine, fine. It's good to see you, dear. Try not to take things too seriously, it won't be good for your health."

From inside Erica's apartment, I couldn't help but shake my head.

"Dianne, maybe you need to take things more seriously," Erica said. "I'd hate if anything happened to you, but more importantly I'd hate for your grandkids to never get to see you again if you got sick."

"Well, I guess..." Dianne trailed off.

"Goodbye, Dianne. It was nice seeing you," Erica said in that tone of voice that was just shy of 'politely fuck off,' then followed Leo and me into her apartment and shut the door.

"God, that woman," Erica said. She peeled down the pair of gaiters she was wearing over her face. The top layer was a winter covering Leo and I usually used in the middle of winter when we were snowmobiling, and the second was a much thinner one we used in the summer when A T Veeing. "We should be good in here, no one's come in since I left."

I peeled down my bandanas and sighed. "I'm sure she's nice, but that lady needs a reality check."

"I just hope she isn't someone else's reality check," Erica said. "Alright. I'm going to start in the bedroom. Leo, can you go through the living room and grab anything you think we might want in terms of DVDs and stuff? And Harrison, do you mind doing a check-over of the kitchen? I'm pretty sure I got rid of all the immediate perishables before I came down, but I might have missed some things that could've gone for a couple weeks."

We split up and went to work. I cleaned out a few old condiments that Erica had missed and collected some canned and boxed food that would travel easily, along with some of the more specialty cooking equipment Erica had made of point of mentioning. I wasn't sure what an 'air fryer' did, but she made it sound like it was a gift from God, so I was willing to pack it up.

"All done in the kitchen," I said, standing in the doorway to Erica's bedroom.

She was rummaging in her closet. Her bed was covered in clothes and a couple of pieces of luggage, and everything looked like a mess. "Okay, hold on," she said, then she reappeared and dumped what looked like an entire department store's worth of bras out onto the bed. "Can you start packing this stuff up? Don't worry about folding or sorting it, I'll fix it all once we're back at your place. Then I can grab everything I need from the washroom and we'll be done."

"Sure," I said, and we squeezed past each other so she could duck into the washroom. Once she was gone, I just chuckled and shook my head at the mess she'd already made. "I don't think this is all going to fit in these bags."

I got to work, and soon three of the four pieces of luggage were stuffed full. That's when I made it to the pile of bras. I glanced out the door, and quickly picked up a fancy looking one and checked the tag. "Damn, Erica," I chuckled. It was obvious she was a busty girl, but 36E? I wouldn't have guessed.

Then again, I wasn't exactly a bra aficionado. I wouldn't even know if I'd seen D's or E's or what, the sizing just sort of confused me enough that I couldn't care to look into it any further.

I carefully began packing her daintier things into a bag, and below the bras was a pile of panties; and only a few of them seemed like they were designed for comfort and not show. There were strings, there was lace. I held a particular red number and shook my head again, trying to do my best not to imagine Erica wearing it and failing. I shoved it into the bag with the rest.

"Incoming," Erica said, bustling back into the room with her arms full of canisters and bottles and all sorts of things from the bathroom. She dumped it all on top of the panties in the bag. "Usually I'd be a lot more organized with this," she sighed. "But I just feel... being in the city feels kinda gross right now."

"Hmm, I feel it too," I said. I picked up the last handful of her underwear and put them on top of the cosmetics stuff.

"Oh my God," Erica said, grabbing the bag from me. "I can't believe; God, this is embarrassing." She was grinning and her cheeks had heated up as she quickly zipped up the luggage and turned to me. "I didn't realize you'd work that fast."

"Hey, I've seen ladies' underwear before," I laughed. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, but you haven't seen my underwear," she chuckled along with me. "At least you saw the nice stuff. I left most of it here when I came down; wasn't exactly thinking about showing off the goods, ya know?"

"Hey, anytime you want to show off, you just let me know," I laughed. "I tried not to pry, but some of them looked pretty hot."

"Oh, my God," she said, face palming her embarrassment. Then her smile turned teasing. "Then again, we could always play you show me yours, I'll show you mine. I'm sure the girls would be happy for some more freedom around the house." She squished her upper arms together to pop out her chest a bit under her sweater.

Now it was my turn to smirk and blush a little. I was just starting to try and figure out what to say when Leo came in from the front area of the apartment. "Think I'm about done up here," he said. "Anything else, sis?"

Erica snickered and punched me in the arm. "That's probably it. I was just teasing Harrison about feeling' up my panties though."

"Dude!" Leo said.

"Oh, come on," I said. "You know I wouldn't."

"Still..." Leo trailed off. "Whatever. Just leave my sister's granny panties alone."

"You think I wear granny panties?" Erica said, then turned back to the bag and started unzipping it. "Well, let me just show you some of these..."

"Nope, no, nada, nyet!" Leo said, covering his eyes with both hands and turning out of the room. "I do not need to know. Too much information for me!"

Erica snorted and shook her head, re-zipping the bag. She winked at me and gave me another friendly punch on the arm. "Thanks again for helping with all of this, Harrison."

"No problem at all, E," I assured her.

"No, no," she said. "Seriously. Thank you. You guys didn't need to come out here; it feels sort of silly to say, but you're technically risking your lives for me right now."

"Well, chivalry ain't dead yet, I guess," I said.

"I guess not," she laughed. She leaned in and kissed my cheek. "It's nice. Just don't go making a habit of it, I don't need some White Knight savior act out of you or my brother."

"Deal," I said.

We got everything out into the front hallway of the apartment, and it ended up being more than we could hope to carry down in one trip. The end result was that we made the first trip down, started loading everything into the bed of the pickup, and while Leo and Erica went back up for another load I stayed down with the vehicles.

The thing about inner cities, we'd all learned quickly when we originally moved in, was that you took a risk when you left things in your car. Well, if you had a car to begin with, but if you did and people could see in then it was likely your shit was going to get stolen.

So there I was, sitting on the open back gate of my pickup with double bandanas over the bottom half of my face and ski goggles over the top, when two men rounded a corner further down the wide back alley and stopped.

They looked at me and the cars.

I looked at them.

One of them was wearing a medical mask, while the other had a knit wool balaclava on with nothing but his eyes showing. I'd never really considered it before, what with us living out in the woods away from most people, but at that moment I realized how simple it must be to do crime when everyone was expected to wear masks.

I watched them.

They eyed up the vehicles.

I stood up. They watched me do it. I slammed the gate of my truck shut. They watched me do it. I walked around to the passenger door of the truck cab, pulled out the hard case I had stowed under the seat, grabbed my Dad's old Colt 1911 and slid a magazine home.

The men kept their eyes on me, not batting an eye even though I was now holding a loaded firearm.

I leaned against the back of my truck and watched them right back.

Eventually, Leo and Erica came back down and I didn't mention the men or the pistol, which I tucked onto the passenger seat of my truck while we were moving things around. I left the door open so that I could keep easy access.

Erica and Leo went up for one last load, and I entered another long staring match with the two men. They hadn't moved and were about fifty yards away so I couldn't tell if they were talking to each other. I swear I must have been sweating bullets under my sweater and gloves and various masks. I don't know if my adrenaline had spiked like this since seeing combat while deployed. Not even the grocery store parking lot showdown a few weeks ago had been like this.

Finally, Erica and Leo came down with the last load, we got everything stowed away, and got back into our vehicles. I took a moment to unload and re-stow my firearm, and as Erica and Leo pulled away in her car I watched as the two men came up the alley and entered Erica's apartment building through the door we had been using.

Maybe they had just been waiting to use the door, playing it safe with us. Or maybe it was something else. I wouldn't ever know.

It took three days for us to start feeling... safe wasn't the right word. 'Less apprehensive' is where I ended up landing. Coming back from the city had been as smooth as driving out, but once we were home we all had this feeling of being dirty. It felt silly even at the time, but we ended up hosing each other off outside with the garden hose before heading in to take some long, hot showers. Was that ineffective? Probably. Did it make us feel better? Maybe, a little.

When none of us were showing any symptoms of getting sick by the third night back, we all decided to crash and start a new show together on Netflix that night after dinner. I ended up in the living room first and was starting to scroll through the menus to find something we might like when Erica came down the stairs in her own comfy clothes. She was wearing baggy, low-riding sweatpants and a black tank top that I very quickly realized was bouncing way more than usual with each of her steps down the stairs.

Erica walked over to the TV sitting area and flopped down onto the couch across from me, absentmindedly reaching up and tying her hair back into a loose and messy bun. "What?" she asked me when she realized I was staring at her.

"Nothing," I said. "You just... you look good. Like that."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just makeup, Harrison."

What she meant was she wasn't wearing any. For the first time ever, even including the month that she'd already been staying with us, I was seeing Erica without makeup on. It was sort of shocking, honestly; whatever magic she did in the mirror, with her kit, it was like she could change the very structure of her face. Usually, she had an almost angular predatory look, with sultry and smoky eyes and sharp cheekbones leading down to a perfect set of clean and bright red lips. Now she looked brighter, more girl-next-door. Sure there were imperfections; soft lines under her eyes, little freckles and blemishes that got hidden by foundation, but her eyes were brighter, and her smile was wholesome.

"Just don't feel like you need to be anything but comfortable, E," I assured her. "I like this look on you."

She sighed and gave me a smirk. "Alright, charmer. What are we watching?"

I tossed her the remote and let her start scanning through the list of new shows. Besides her lack of makeup and apparent lack of a bra, she was still her usual self. Both of her arm sleeves were bared by the tank top; her left arm was a colorful splash of a dozen of her favorite Pokémon from the original 150, all water-themed. Her right was Star Wars themed and focused on a pinup Femme Boba Fett on her outer upper arm, along with a couple sexy lady Stormtroopers, a Princess Leia in the requisite golden slave bikini, and Padme in the ripped-up white arena fight outfit. Not to mention the Yoda on her inner forearm and chili Chewbacca just below her armpit on her bicep. Her tank top also showed off the two heart tattoos on either side of her clavicle, and the half-mandala tattoo that sat on the back of her neck at the hairline. Erica's legs, while currently covered by her sweats, were a more eclectic collection of random and unplanned tattoos dating back from her start in the industry; some were done by her own hand, others by fellow apprentices, and a few even by the apprentices she'd eventually trained over the years.

"Heads up!" Leo said, bounding down the stairs in his own sweats and a hoodie, vaulting over the back of the sofa and landing heavily next to his twin sister.

"Jesus Christ," Erica said, ducking away to narrowly avoid getting kicked in the back of the head. She turned and hit Leo in the shoulder. "Watch it, you monkey!"

"Takes one to know one," Leo laughed, swiping away her hands as she tried to hit him again.

Soon the two were involved in a swearing match as Erica was leaning over Leo, trying to tweak his ears and drop a wad of spit down on his face, while he tried to both ward off her hands and push her away at the same time. Their easy sibling rivalry and goofing off usually wasn't this physical, but it still had me laughing and wondering all the same. I'd never had that with my sister; she was about seven years older than me, so we hadn't ever had that sort of a relationship.

To be honest, I was also a little interested in the sibling scrap because Erica's tits looked fucking great jostling and bouncing around in her tank top, and a part of me hoped a boob would pop out in the chaos. Unfortunately, I couldn't be so lucky and the duel ended with both of them panting, sitting next to each other, with no boob appearance.

"What are we watching?" Leo asked.

"I dunno, we hadn't picked yet," I said.

"Let's watch this," Erica said, seemingly at random, and selected some sort of a baking show.

"Aw man," Leo said. "These competition shows are always so scripted."

"They make me hungry," I said. "Maybe I should start baking more."

"Yes," Erica said. "Now we're watching every season just so you can get more good ideas like that, Harri."

The show was easy to follow and clearly designed like every other Food Porn-style "reality" competition. Other than the deliciously described food, the only thing actually keeping my attention was the host.

"She's hot," Erica said during one of the transition scenes, right after the host had finished showing the TV audience the differences between a mousse and whipped cream. It had involved a lot of whisking very fast.

"Not my type, but I can see it," Leo said. "She's got too much of a Fifties Housewife vibe going on."

"That's just because she's so proper British," Erica said. "Look at her, she's gorgeous. And fucking stacked under those pretty dresses. What do you think, Harri?"

"I'm with you, I think she's definitely hot," I agreed. "And I really dig the accent."

"I bet she's a fucking freak in bed, too," Erica said.

"No way!" Leo argued with his sister. "Look at her. She's all syrup and sweetness. I bet she's dry as a desert down there, and you couldn't fit anything in due to the stick up her ass."

"Nuh-uh," Erica shook her head. "I'd put money on her having a filthy mouth off-screen. Just swears like a fucking sailor. And,  Hmm, I bet she probably says she's straight, but has plenty of experience with girls from her Prep School days."

"Sure," I laughed along. "Makes perfect sense. Anything else?"

"I bet she's got a cum fetish," Erica said. "Look at her eyes when she's talking about glazing. She's practically creaming her conservative little dress. And she definitely likes a cheeky finger up the bum to really set her off."

All of us were laughing now, and the conversation faded as we struggled to get control of our giggles. By the time the first episode was over, we were hooked despite the silly concept, and let it play. We got four episodes in before Erica called it quits.

"That's enough for me tonight, boys," she said, yawning and stretching her arms wide. Her right arm rubbed roughly against Leo's face on purpose, just to bug him as he pulled away. "I'm off to bed. Good night!"

She bounced up off the couch and made for the stairs, her hips swiveling in her low-waisted sweats. They'd ridden lower, and she was showing a bit of a whale tail with her lace thong panties peeking over the waistline.

"Dude," Leo said, snapping my vision from his sister as she walked up the stairs.

"Uh," I hummed, and slowly raised both arms in an awkward shrug. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just... don't make it a thing," he sighed, then flopped over onto his side. "She's my sister. You wanna watch Deadpool?"

Visitors

The rumble, sputter and hum of the approaching ATV broke my concentration as it cut through the quiet warbling of my shitty Bluetooth speaker long before Leo pulled around the trail bend. The thick foliage up here in the foothills, far at the back end of my family property, created a weird dampening effect so I hadn't heard him until he was almost on top of me. The rumble cut through the thick greenery now and was followed by the crunching of the tires biting into the dry dirt and gravel of the hill trail.

Leo pulled his ATV to a halt a couple yards from where I had set myself up for my morning painting session, kicked it into park and shut off the engine. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, only a little more than I was wearing myself since I'd gone for just an undershirt. It was hot even for late spring, and the mugginess of the Oregon coastal region had us both sweating before noon.

"Hey," I nodded. "What's up?"

Leo rolled his eyes and dismounted from his ride, stretching his arms high and full-bodied before making a jerk-off gesture and mimicking the sound of a small mechanical device, "Biz."

I snorted and shook my head with a smirk. "Again?" I asked.

Our solitude and variable work hours on my family land had meant that for the past five years Leo and I had enjoyed our little patch of the Oregon wilds almost at will. Dirt biking and ATV in the summers, snowmobiling and snowshoeing in the winter. Some archery and occasionally hunting out in the back woods when deer season came around; it really was a little forested wonderland and we made sure to put it to use. We weren't too isolated from amenities, but the closest neighbor was a seven-minute drive down the highway.

We'd lived in idyllic, bachelor bliss. The only thing we'd been missing were girlfriends. Well, Leo had maintained an online relationship with a girl from Austria for a while, but that fizzled when she turned out to be trying to milk plane tickets out of him to come to the States. I'd told him exactly what sort of a red flag that sounded like, and things had ended poorly.

So everything but our dating lives had seemed perfect, but then the virus cropped up. My sister and her family had moved down south into California to be closer to her husband's folks way back while I was still in the Service, and they hadn't wanted to come up north, so Erica had been the only person we'd considered offering shelter to even after things started to begin feeling more permanently stuck in Pandemic mode. Now we were going on month two of full lockdown quarantines in the state, and we had no idea if 'the worst of it' had happened yet, or was still to come.

The first weeks before our trip into the city had almost been like a vacation. We got to tour Erica around the property properly, and she got to play with all our toys. We did end up teaching her gun safety, and how just after sunrise you could spot the local deer up in the hills from the back porch (mostly unrelated activities unless it was deer season). Then, after the trip to get her stuff a month ago, things slowed down. We still had fun, but as the world continued to grind more and more to a halt, work started taking up less time and we all fell into a casual state of constant 'will I accomplish anything today?'

"Yeah, again," Leo answered my question. He came and stood at my shoulder to look over my watercolor sketchbook. I'd started doing scenery work a few years ago to practice for my freelance concept art contracts; video games and movie productions all usually had a tiny in-house team these days, but they were so overloaded they tended to frequently contract out anyways. A really good background often goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things but can make all the difference to impressing an art coordinator. Basing my practice on the wilderness around us made the most sense.

"Am I wrong," I asked Leo, "Or wasn't she at it last night, too?"

"She was," he groaned. "And twice during the day. I don't know what's gotten into her." He walked over to where my own ATV was and pulled out my water bottle, lifting it to me with a raised eyebrow to ask if he could have some.

"Go for it," I said, and picked up the lid to my palette and sealed it over the paint pucks. "And it's not that big a deal. It's just..."

"Awkward, I know," Leo said after finishing his swig of water. "She isn't exactly quiet about it."

"Honestly," I said. "I think she thinks she is. She's just... not."

The silence between us stretched, awkward in its own right. After all, we were talking about Erica getting herself off.

I had met Leo's twin almost as soon as I'd moved into Leo's condo as a roommate, and we'd been friendly ever since. Her ability to handle the casual crassness I'd developed in the military, and calling her brother on his shit, had made her an instant friend that I could respect for her take-no-shit attitude when it came to her business. I also found her attractive as hell, but she was my roommate-turned-best-friend's sister. She'd been a little more slight when we met, but our late twenties and early thirties had only given her a fuller figure that she knew exactly how to show off without being skanky about it. The main thing, other than the whole sister-of-friend situation, that kept me from ever trying to pursue something was that I was pretty sure she was a lesbian. She'd never said it outright, but over drinks in the city in the 'before times' she was always describing the bodies of her hot tattoo clients to tease me and Leo, talking about big tits and perky asses and shaved pubic mounds. It was also surprising the number of buttholes she claimed to see on a weekly basis.

After our trip back into the city, Erica finally started to feel more at home. Our friendliness since I moved to Portland had always been occasional and at a bit of a distance since we had different social circles, but now she was becoming an actual roommate and not a guest.

Then Leo and I heard the biz for the first time.

I'll be honest, we were idiots for about five minutes that first time. We ran into each other as we were wandering the first floor of the house, both wondering what the hell had broken and was making a noise I'd never heard in the house before. It was sometime around when I had been scouring the kitchen for a broken appliance that I realized the sound was coming from above me, and a few more seconds before I realized whose room I was under.

Then the soft, muffled moaning started.

That first time, Leo and my eyes met and it was like we'd locked in and couldn't break contact. It was a case of the ol' Dog-Taking-A-Shit stare, inevitably awkward and magnetically locked in. For a solid minute and a half, we both got redder and redder as we listened to Erica tease and please herself above our heads, up in her room. Eventually, we both silently stepped out of the house and onto the porch. We never said a word about it to each other, and definitely not to Erica.

Apparently, our lack of questions or notice encouraged Erica that she was getting away with her alone time, because now two months on into quarantine, we fully understood what 'biz' meant when we warned each other that we might not want to go into the house.

"We should say something," Leo finally said. We'd let the silence between us develop so long it had come back around to something more companionable and less awkward. He was leaning against a tree, looking out at the hills I'd been painting while I packed up my brushes and paint, and then fanned my sketchbook through the air to try and speed up the watercolors drying.

"Hey, you go ahead with that," I said, holding up my hands. "I am definitely not the one who wants to tell a woman that we can hear her every time she wants to relieve some tension. And I am absolutely not telling Erica, of all people."

"I can handle my sister just fine," Leo scoffed.

"Sure," I said. "but we shouldn't be handling each other at all as roommates, my man."

"Look, Harrison," Leo said. "Are you trying to tell me that my sister jilling off above your head on the daily isn't a little... rude? Or something? At least I can get out of the house to the workshop. That's your home and your place of work at the same time."

"Leo, I,” I started, but got interrupted by a squawk coming from the handheld radios strapped to both Leo's ATV and my own.

"Hey, are you guys in range, over?" Erica asked. She sounded clipped. Almost startled.

"Yeah, sis. What's up? Over." Leo responded.

"Any chance you were expecting a delivery today? Over." Erica asked.

"No," I said into my own walkie talkie. "Why, is someone driving up the lane? Over."

"You guys should really get down here," Erica said. "There's a helicopter landing in the front yard, and I don't think it's some new Amazon delivery system."

I looked at Leo with a furrowed brow. "Uh, say again? Did you say a helicopter?"

"Yes, Harrison. I said a motherfucking helicopter is currently touching down on the front lawn. Can you get down here, please? Now?"

"Five minutes," I said back, already hopping onto the seat of my ride. I dropped my sketchbook and palette into the bin attached to the back of the ATV and latched it closed. "If it's cops or something, just don't let them in the house. Give us five minutes. Out."

There wasn't really a 'fast' way back. The trails that crisscrossed the rocky forest of the property were often little more than deer runs, but Leo and I had spent the last five years exploring and enjoying them. Not to mention my entire childhood when I had the run of the place in between school and chores.

We burned it through a couple of larger clearings, avoided the more dense forest areas, and pushed the ATVs to their limits when we cut around the edge of one of the swampy ponds. In under five minutes, we'd travelled what could sometimes take an entire afternoon hike on the easier and more roundabout paths. We were coming up on the house from behind, and instead of pulling up into the garage lean-to next to the old barn, I rode straight around to the front of the house.

A helicopter really was sitting in the front yard, about thirty yards from the house and centered on the old gravel driveway. Two men and a woman in suits were being flanked by four, armed men in black fatigues. The scene almost felt like a TV show, like some CIA officer had come to pick one of us up to go on a secret mission in the Andes to stop an international terror ring or something. Maybe I'm getting my plots mixed up. It had been a long lockdown, and we'd streamed a lot of shows.

Instead of one of us coming out in a suit ready to go do Bond-like action shit, Erica was standing on the front porch of the ranch house in nothing but a fluffy pink housecoat and thick hiking boots, the old double barrel shotgun we usually kept near the back door for wolf or bear emergencies casually pointed at the helicopter people. The robe barely came down to her mid-thigh showing off her pale legs and the bright tattoos scattered across them, along with both of the full sleeve tattoos on her arms. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, revealing the stern look on her face. It was her 'don't fuck with me' face, which often also meant, 'Bitch, I am the manager and you can talk to me.'

I kicked the ATV into park after skidding to a halt, and I was already dismounting as Leo pulled up behind me. "Jesus Christ, Erica," I said.

"Mister Black," called one of the suited men. He was perfectly calm about it, despite the shotgun levelled at him. To be fair, he probably didn't know we kept it loaded with slugs since birdshot could just make a bear angry. From the current distance, birdshot wouldn't be too dangerous. Slugs could still tear him apart.

"Hold on," I said sternly. The man who had called out was the older of the two, grey-haired with the look of a veteran Suit and the voice of casual command that only came from years of experience giving orders. I didn't really give a shit.

"What?" Erica asked as I stomped up the porch steps. "You said don't let them in the house."

"For fuck's sake," I said. Erica gave me a look, like a disapproving kindergarten teacher with a cocked eyebrow asking me to dare explain myself, and I managed not to flick my eyes down to the considerable cleavage that was bundled into her robe. I'd known that she had the robe with her, but I'd never actually seen her in it before except for brief flashes of her walking down the upstairs hallway to the washroom and back to her room. It was definitely as revealing as I had imagined.

After a brief stare down between us, Erica broke and rolled her eyes, pursed her lips, and handed me the shotgun. "You should know better than to point a fucking firearm at people if you don't mean to use it," I said.

"Harri," she scoffed. "They pointed their rifles at me first. I was showing them I meant business, too."

I think she regretted telling me that. It's hard for me to know exactly what my face does, but in the past people had described my 'angry face' as a rolling storm cloud. I spun on my heels and stomped right back down the porch steps and towards the Suits. I had the shotgun gripped by the wooden stock, my hands away from the trigger and the barrels pointed down but I could still see a couple of the Uniforms were gripping their own firearms with the nervous energy of someone on alert. I also clearly noticed that while their fatigues had US Flag patches, they were lacking any other identification for a branch of service or personal ID, which was in a real grey area of legality if they were active service.

"You're trespassing, and you're breaking our quarantine," I said as I stopped about six feet in front of the Suit who had spoken. He was older, probably in his late fifties, and had the craggy features of a man who had been there and done that. His hair was still thick on his head despite having gone white, and he wore a chunky moustache that Tom Selleck would have been proud of. "Don't dance around. Who are you, what do you want, and why the fuck do you think I should listen to you at all after your goons pointed their weapons at my guest?"

The old Suit flicked his eyes up and down me for a moment, clearly taking a judgment, while the woman Suit scoffed under her breath. She was the kind of person who looked like they were constantly catching a whiff of dog shit, sour-faced and permanently disgusted.

"And I want her, and whichever of you fuckers couldn't keep muzzle discipline, back on your fucking helicopter," I added.

"Done," said the old Suit.

"What? Grierson, you can't" the woman Suit started.

"Get your shit together, Maggie," said the younger Suit next to them. If the older suit was a veteran, then this one was the slick up-and-comer. "And learn to read a fucking room." He snapped at two of the Uniforms and pointed towards the helicopter, and both of them went without a word. Maggie looked like she wanted to say something else but looked back to Grierson, the old Suit, and found that he hadn't even bothered to turn and look at her. She spun and gave her best storming-off exit, which wasn't very effective considering she was navigating a grass lawn in heels.

"Any other demands before we get started?" Grierson asked. He had a voice like Tommy Lee Jones, that cracking southern drawl that immediately made you think of a tough and sarcastic grandfather.

"Go ahead," I said.

"Good, cause I don't like taking demands, kid. I'm Agent Grierson, this is Agent Walters. We represent an ongoing federal task force tackling some of the issues of the pandemic and quarantine." Both men flashed open silver and gold badges from leather wallets they pulled out of their inner jacket pockets. "That's who we are, and why you should listen to us. And we're here to make you filthy rich in exchange for your land."

I gritted my teeth and could feel my initial hot anger turn cold to match the lifelong, generational grudge that had been ingrained in me since I was a kid. "Let me guess," I said. "OGA. Other Government Agency."

Grierson smirked. "Something like that, kid."

"And what, quarantine doesn't mean anything to you guys? You couldn't fucking call ahead and warn us you were coming?"

"That's not how we work. Look, Black, why don't we step inside and discuss this? Ain't no reason for a showdown out here in the yard," Grierson said. "Show of good faith. Hit the chopper, boys." Immediately the other two Uniforms headed back to the helicopter.

It was my turn to eye the old Suit up and down. I sighed and shook my head ruefully. "Fine. Come on up."

I turned and handed the shotgun to Leo, who took it carefully with both hands. "Put that back where it belongs," I said, and as I walked back towards the house I looked at Erica. "You should probably go get dressed, E. Sounds like we've got company."

Erica stopped me with a hand on my shoulder as I mounted the porch steps. She still looked concerned, and she squeezed my shoulder lightly. "Are you sure about this?" she asked in a whisper. "You've mentioned things, but never like this."

"Never been quite this out there," I said. "but I'm not about to shoot some CIA spook in my front yard before I even hear what he has to say."

"Fuck. Is he really a spook?" she asked.

"Guess we'll find out."

The five of us were sitting down in the living room. Walters, along with Erica who had thrown on a sundress underneath a long knit sweater, and Leo were all drinking freshly brewed coffee while Agent Grierson and I sat across the main coffee table from each other. I was letting my emotions get the best of me, sitting forward in my seat and occasionally fidgeting with a couple of paint stains on my pant leg. Grierson sat back like he was as comfortable as he'd ever been. I knew I was giving myself away, my investigation and interrogation training had given me better instincts than this, but it had been seven years since I put them to actual use. I was getting soft.

"Well," I said. "How about we start at the top, Agent? What exactly does the government want with my land in the middle of a pandemic, and why show up completely unannounced?"

Grierson gave a soft smile and nodded to himself as if he'd confirmed a thought. "Son, I know a lot about you, because for the past week there has been a team of backroom analysts digging up everything they could about you, your family and this property. The one thing we can't know for certain is how much you know about what's been going on in our country. So the first thing I want you to know, upfront before we talk about anything else, is that we are abso-fucking-lutely caught between a stampeding bull and the rodeo arena wall."

"I'd have gone with clogged sewer drain and an industrial fan, myself," Walters put in.

"Same impending shit show, but it misses the feeling of uncontrollable careening danger," Grierson said.

Walters shrugged. "That's fair."

"Yeah, alright, we know the world is fucked right now," Leo said, annoyed with the banter. "We've been stuck in quarantine for months already."

"No, kid. You don't know," Grierson said to Leo. "Not really. You check news sites and social media more than your two friends here, but even you don't fucking know." He turned back to me and met my eye. "It's bad, and it's getting worse. Projections are not pretty on this, and people like me are picking up the backup plans to the emergency backup plans. We're talking the kind of shit the conspiracy theory nuts couldn't have dreamed up ahead of time if they had a month-long conference to put their heads together."

"Apocalyptic," Walters said.

"Not... quite," Grierson disagreed. "But definitely world-changing"

"This isn't real," Erica whispered from her seat. "This is fucked."

"Fucked is the right word for it," Grierson nodded. "But I'm being very real with you. Quarantine isn't going to work. Our society isn't built to handle it, people screw up constantly. Politicians think they can use it to their advantage, or ignore it. That's why organizations like those that Walters and I work for have measures in place to operate without oversight, and very quickly, in these sorts of emergencies."

"So, if this is all true, what exactly do you want?" I asked.

"We want your land," Grierson said. "All of it. A big part of the success strategy on some of our backup plans includes building brand new quarantine settlement facilities for the vaccinated, and your property was flagged as prime real estate for the purpose in this region. You're remote, but not too remote; twenty minutes from the nearest town and an hour and a half from the nearest city. It borders onto a significant enough water source with the river to the west, and basic services can be expanded on without too much difficulty."

Walters leaned forward, his mug of coffee cupped in both hands. "Mr. Black, in effect, the government wants to purchase all 560 acres of your land from you and put a whole bunch of healthy people on it to make sure we don't all fucking die."

"No," I said. Grierson didn't blink.

"You haven't even heard our offer yet," Walters said.

"He doesn't need to," Grierson told his partner, then turned back to me as he talked, staring me down. "This is generational property. Mr. Black's great-great-great-grandfather purchased this land with cash he raised as a bounty hunter back in the days of Cowboys and the California Gold Rush. And ever since, the Black family has had to fight all comers to keep it. He could be absolutely destitute, dying of hunger, with famine and a draught in full swing and a forest fire on his doorstep, and I bet Mr. Black here would tell you to fuck right off with an offer."

"Something like that," I said. I was a little surprised by even the sparse details Grierson was saying about my family history, but not as spooked as Leo and Erica seemed to be. They'd heard the stories from me, sitting around the campfire pit out back with beers in our hands, but I wasn't the only source for the family history. Local court records were probably full of sordid details going back decades, if not over a century. He might have dug up details of events that didn't get passed down verbally through the family tree; based on the dark shit I did know about, I couldn't imagine what might have gotten left out.

To be continued, Based on a post by Break The Bar for Literotica