Chapter 8: Kickin’ Ass And Takin’ Names

Five young women moved through the tunnel, enhanced vision reducing the need for light to a one-bulb, LED penlight. Three wore light weight coveralls over replicas of a school uniform, and two covered the standard teacher’s dress of the all-girls boarding school. The tunnel was in better shape than might be expected, but the dust and dirt made the coveralls a requirement.

The Nerd team had located the pre Civil War tunnel that led from the river bank to the basement of the old house, torn down to make way for the school. Now the relic from the Underground Railway was going to help save members of another generation.

Small Confederacy drones had preceded the first team, and the current location of every captor was known. Only the circle of Claymores surrounding the prisoners and the known presence of one or more dead man’s switches kept the rescuers from using stingers or knockout gas in a repeat of the Earth Firsters’ own technique.

Team communications had started out as a concern because concubines had no implants. Dora felt that concubines’ collars were insufficient because, in addition to their visibility, any discussion might be overheard. On one pretext or another, She called her companions from the presence of Sam, Randy, and other observers and had implants installed.

She cautioned, <I promised to protect my family any way I can short of killing, and I will. These implants are tuned to me only. Other AIs are not to know that they exist.> Much to Michael’s relief, the team leader for the operation was their own Pixie -- the diminutive but experienced Hannah -- with Rachel as second in command of this first element. Troubling were the sisters Patricia and Carley, thoroughly augmented and trained, but never tested under fire. The remaining ‘teacher’ was Carole; it having been decided a combat experienced shooter was needed more than her role as chief of staff.

To compensate for her absence on the receiving end, concubines Danni, the former management consultant, and Mandy, the former farm wife, were tapped for organization and communications ‘back at the ranch’ -- supporting and supported by Siân and the recently acquired Ginger.

Only the planned deception to infiltrate the school posing as students and faculty kept Michael and the Ninja Twins from being in the first wave. He was too male, and the Ninjas were deemed too tall to fit the desired profile. It was small comfort that they were five minutes behind, going in as the second wave to provide cover for Birdie and Billie, the demolition experts.

It had been decided that dressing as legitimate occupants would both aid split second identification in a firefight and confuse the captors -- even if only momentarily.

Hannah took Patricia and headed for the guard in the lobby. This early in the morning, he was unlikely to be at his most alert. Her main concern was the possibility that he might see their reflections in the glass doors to the outside. Their uniforms should give an advantage, however brief.

She needn’t have worried. He was asleep, and an injection was followed by duct taping his hands, feet, and mouth. She sub-vocalized her success for Dora to relay to the rest, and motioned Patricia to follow her to the principal’s office where, Sheriff and one other were ensconced.

Rachel and the rest of the team were on their way to the conference room, where three invaders were ‘off duty’ and sleeping. Needles and duct tape were similarly utilized, and the odds were cut by almost half.

Whispering through the heating vent, Rachel informed Debbie they had arrived, and told her to unlock the storeroom door. Carole ducked in, hugged the weeping girl, and laid a transporter pad on the floor. After confirming with Dora that the link was established, she ushered Debbie through and moved the pad to a corner where it could serve as an emergency entry or exit.

Dora alerted the waiting reception team of the impending arrival, and they greeted the young woman with open arms. Dora moved a drone to watch the pad, assured Carole that she could destroy the exit at need, and told her to ‘move on!’

Next on the agenda was finding and neutralizing the dead man’s switch. Sheriff and another of his crew were in the security office watching videos of the unsuspecting captives stripping. When the check for hymens began, the subterfuge was exposed, and the women fearfully huddled together.

In the office, a laptop was open to a spreadsheet, and the two were using numbers on the girls’ foreheads to identify and rate them for the coming auction.

The team’s original plan called for Hannah and Patricia to ‘just show up’ outside the security door, crying and posing as presents from the ‘boys’ in the gym. The plan was abetted when the sheriff used the PA system, “I need a couple of cherries here -- right now -- and the younger the better. Make mine dark and Stevie wants a blonde. Surprise me, but move it!”

Rachel, Carole, and Carley were en-route to the gym when they heard the announcement. They positioned themselves in a cross corridor between the gym and the security office. Using her drones to monitor the progress of the two weeping girls and their escort, Dora kept the ambushing women apprized of their approach. <About a minute now, > she estimated.

Then Dora added, <Not to distract you, but team two is now in the building. The Nerds have verified that the room holding the captive sponsors has no Claymores and are now starting to cut wires to the window Claymores. Michael is standing by to help with whatever you need after you take care of your business.> The two captives summoned by Sheriff crossed the corridor where the liberation team waited. Carley stepped into the escort’s path, declaring, “Hey, what’s going on here?”

Surprised, the escort turned towards her and was immediately kicked under the chin by the newly accomplished young warrior. As he rocked back, he was chopped from the rear by Carole, who also took great pleasure in using her new skills.

“You’ve been had, ladies. Those are NOT Confederacy marines,” announced Carley. “We are here to get you and your friends out of their clutches.”

“We know,” whined one of the youngsters while Rachel gathered the two young girls into her arms and did her best to keep them from descending into hysterics. <Dora, let Hannah know we have the two girls. The number on the blonde is two and the other fifteen. She should wait about a minute, then it’s a go.> Receiving an acknowledgement, the team dragged the unconscious predator to the storeroom. After sending through the still weeping girls, they shoved him through to a less than friendly reception, and then they started back towards the gym to meet up with Michael.

Hannah and Patricia had to scramble to find a marker to number their foreheads. That done, they took off their shoes, panties and bras -- leaving their blouses open and hanging. This allowed Hannah to keep Bucky, her Browning Buckmark 22, in the small of her back, and three throwing knives in garters under her skirt.

Patricia had similarly hidden weapons. As the second through the door, she figured that there would be enough distraction by boobies on display that she could hold the hilt of her razor sharp dagger in her palm with the blade positioned along the inside of her forearm.

When they were ready, they reached across to each other and pinched hard, bringing tears. Then, with tears running down their cheeks, they tapped timidly on the door.

“What the Hell?!” came the exasperated yell. “Get your ass in here with that pussy!”

Hannah entered and sniveled, “He said we should come here and do what you said, but I’m a virgin, and I’m scared.” Tears ran.

A man seated at the desk motioned to the second, “Over there. You’re his.” Looking at Patricia, “Come here, sweet thing, you are mine.”

Patricia minced over slowly and stood across the desk. As the sheriff reached to lift her skirt, she drove her knife down, pinning his hand to the desk. Shocked silent, he reached for the knife and a second knife nailed his other hand. She glanced over and saw the other man with his hands in the air, the point of Hannah’s knife under his chin.

Her face feral, Patricia demanded, “Where’s the bomb switch?”

“Fuck you, Bitch!” he snarled.

“You clueless son-of-a-bitch,” she said almost sweetly. “I was gang raped by scumbags like you, and it will give me great pleasure to cut off your pecker and feed it to you one slice at a time. If even one bomb goes off, no matter why, you are going to live the rest of your life a dickless, ball-less freak.”

Face set, Hannah watched and whispered to her prisoner, “You better hope he cracks, because if he doesn’t, I’m going to let her work on you. She really was gang raped, you know.”

Her captive shuddered, then went still.

Not knowing how the switch was set up, they had decided in advance that once their captives’ hands were immobilized, they would make no effort to strip search. Patricia made sure that her knives were firmly wedged, then reached under her skirt and drew a third. She knelt by the chair, reached between the man’s legs, and sliced open his pants at the crotch.

He watched in horror as she drew forth a leather shoelace with a loop already tied. She reached in and slipped the loop over his cock and both balls, then snugged it. “Ready to talk?” she asked.

He snarled, “My men will run you down any minute.”

“You mean the three tied up in the conference room, or the one sleeping in the lobby?” she asked softly. “Maybe you are counting on the jackass supposedly bringing us to you. Just who exactly do you think is left to help you? We know where the rest are, and we are taking them out wholesale just like we did you.” She smiled a truly evil smile.

Patricia took a short steel rod from yet another hiding place and inserted it into the loop. She began to twist. “Do you happen to know how long the blood has to be cut off -- pardon the pun -- from your dick, before it turns black and falls off?”

“You don’t have to beg like I begged my rapists,” she cajoled, “just tell me about the trigger.”

He squirmed, but gritted his teeth and remained silent.

Not knowing who would be in which role, both women had come fully prepared. Patricia pulled a pair of needle nosed pliers from another magic hiding place, grabbed the man’s foreskin, and sliced around about a quarter of the circumference. Clearly, the restricted blood supply had not cut off (good one) all feeling; Sheriff screamed. Sweat ran down his face and dripped off his nose and chin. Patricia gripped another portion of foreskin and slowly sliced again. This time, the pain was too much, and he managed to lift his butt from the chair, then collapsed back.

“Okay, enough,” he moaned. “I believe you.”

Patricia loosened the noose and stepped back. “Go on,” she demanded.

“It’s in two pieces,” Sheriff explained, “one is a button in my vest pocket, the other is a heart monitor strapped to my chest. If I die or you remove the monitor where it can’t hear my heart beat, a radio signal sets off all the Claymores.” He slumped onto the desk.

<Get Birdie and Billie in here, pronto!> Hannah told Dora.

<Moving, > came the reply.

While waiting, Hannah took the opportunity to make her prisoner sit and place his hands on the table next to him. He looked at her in fear, clearly expecting the same treatment as he had just witnessed. Instead, she took duct tape and bound him securely.

The door flew open and the Nerds charged in. Patricia pointed at Sheriff and demanded, “Tell them! Tell them now!” He did.

Birdie took the button and looked at it. She turned it over and over, then said, “You are a real son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?” She turned to Patricia and said, “What this asshole didn’t tell you is that this button is also a real dead man’s switch, not just a trigger. I think he lied about the heart monitor, too. Both would send a continuous signal to the detonator. The button cuts the signal to detonate the Claymores. More insidious, if either the button or monitor is moved out of range or destroyed, then instant destruction.”

Billie turned to Patricia, “Give me those pliers!” and she held out her hand.

Taking the pliers from her mistress, she approached Sheriff, reached down, grasped his foreskin, and spun. Sheriff screeched as the remainder of his foreskin was ripped from his penis.

“Understand, Asshole,” she yelled into his face, spittle flying, “you are messing with some serious bitches here! One more piece of crap like that, and I will nail each gonad to your chair before I cut them off one piece of skin at a time. Now am I right? Is that piece of shit strapped to your chest real, or just a decoy?”

“Real,” whined Sheriff, tears running down his cheeks. He couldn’t look her in the eye.

“So how do I disarm it?” she demanded.

“I didn’t build it, so I don’t know,” he cringed.

The four girls stared at him in horror.

“You flaming asshole! If this went south, you were going to walk away and let the damn thing explode when you got out of range!” She didn’t ask, she didn’t need to.

Birdie approached Sheriff from behind, took a coil of wire from her kit, and looped it around his neck. She drew it tight, just barely avoiding cutting his skin. Drawing the wire over the back of his chair, she fastened it securely to the rear legs of the chair. Cutting it, she wound wire under his pinned arms to secure his torso to the chair. This she drew tighter than the coil around his neck.