Oscar Meyers
Chapter 6

Copyright© 2004 by Lazlo Zalezac

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Oscar is a screwup until he encounters the God in a dust devil. Follow his life as he grows from being a soldier, to scholar, and finally to prophet. This is a story about duty and the price of honor.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/Ma   Romantic  

Mohammed directed Oscar through the small town, pointing to the coffee house as the most likely place to find someone who would be interested in purchasing the Mercedes. It wasn’t as though there was a car dealership in the area. Oscar stopped the car in front of the small building and looked around the area.

The place was clearly not a chain coffee house based in Seattle. The front of the building was open to the street. Chairs lined one wall with small tables set in front of them. The occupants of the building stared at the car. All conversation came to a halt. Even though it was the middle of the day, a half dozen men were seated in small chairs drinking small cups of tea. Each man had a gun within easy reach and, without exception, each man reached over to touch their gun when Oscar stepped out of the car and looked around.

All of them focused their attention on Oscar. A small wave of apprehension traveled through the group as each wondered if this was the man who talked with Allah. The descriptions of Oscar that had circulated had spanned heights of four foot nothing to a veritable giant. All descriptions agreed on the robe, cloak, staff, and medallion. When Oscar pulled his staff from the car and turned to face them, a collective gasp traveled through the gathered men.

Mohammed got out of the passenger side and winced when he spotted his father among the men drinking coffee. He knew that his father was going to hit him up side the head for leaving the sheep unguarded. He muttered, “Maybe this was a bad idea after all.”

Oscar stepped into the coffee house and took a seat. Looking over at the proprietor, he said, “I’ll have a coffee. I’m not quite sure what the young man will have.”

Mohammed stepped into the coffee house and approached his father. In a soft voice, he said, “Don’t worry about the sheep. Someone is watching them for me.”

“Who?” his father asked turning his head away from Oscar to look at his son. It wasn’t until his son had spoken that he even realized that he was there. He wasn’t sure if he could have resisted traveling with a prophet had such an invitation been given to him. Given that, he wasn’t all that angry with the young man. Of course, he wasn’t sure if traveling with a prophet was all that healthy, either.

“The one traveling with him,” Mohammed answered.

“The woman?” his father asked knowing enough that Oscar’s companion was a woman. The fact that the Desert Ghost had trained the American fighters with the help of a woman was widely known. She was not a woman to be taken lightly.

“Yes,” Mohammed answered expecting his father to get angry with him for leaving the sheep in the care of a woman.

His father was silent for a long minute and then said, “Times are changing. The voice of Allah travels with a woman for protection rather than a man. There is a message there for us if we are wise enough to listen.”

“What message?”

“I’m not wise enough to know that,” his father answered looking over at Oscar. Women were to be protected, not to provide the protection. The world had been turned upside down.

The fact that his father said he was not wise enough to know something surprised Mohammed. As far as he knew, his father was one of the wisest men in the area. It was his father who had been most vocal in supporting the ban against Jihad by the Sword. He didn’t know what to say.

His father sighed and asked, “What is he doing here?”

“He has come to trade his car for camels,” Mohammed answered.

Watching Oscar sip his coffee, he said, “When he finishes his coffee I’ll take him to Hussein. Hussein is vain enough to want a western car even out here.”


As soon as Oscar had left with Mohammed, Georgia had removed the Burka leaving her wearing her desert fatigues. Reaching into the pocket of her shirt, she removed the three small containers of camouflage paint and went to work fixing her face so that she could blend into the background. It struck her as ironic that most women applied a very different kind of makeup to avoid blending into the background.

Once her camouflage was complete, she moved around to find a nice place from which to watch the sheep. Her criteria in selecting a spot were simple, she should be able to watch the flock and be hidden from view. When she did find a spot that met her criteria she was pleased to learn that it was also relatively comfortable.

Most people would have been fidgeting after an hour, but Georgia was used to staying in one place and one position for hours at a time. Sitting out there in the rugged terrain reminded her of her time in Afghanistan with Oscar. Falling back into old habits, her eyes watched the horizon while her mind worked over the state of her life.

Georgia had enjoyed her time in Afghanistan. She was enjoying this trip, but it wasn’t quite the same. The fact was that she missed Debbie. It felt to her like a part of herself was missing and the realization that Debbie had become so important to her was surprising. She wondered how it had come about that another woman was as important to her as Oscar.

There was also a small sense of finality to this trip that had never been present in her relationship with Oscar while in Afghanistan. She knew that he was going to have to pay a high price for bringing peace to this part of the world. That thought reminded her of the high price that she would pay as well. It was almost definite that she would lose Oscar and possibly Debbie once Oscar was gone. The idea depressed her.

Hours passed while she considered the nature of her unusual marriage. She had to get up once to move the sheep back into a more compact group. After that little exercise, she found another place from which to watch the sheep. In this place, she could also observe the young man at the other end of the valley watching over his sheep. He was not making much of an effort to blend into his surroundings.

Ahmid was passing the time as young men had passed time ever since the first shepherd watched over his sheep. He was playing with a sling. Georgia watched as he reached down and picked up a small stone and then started swinging the sling. With a quick flick of his hand, he launched the rock at a small pile of stones. Even from the distance, it was obvious that he had hit his target when the topmost stone fell to the ground.

It was the kind of scene that echoed across the centuries. In the past, a shepherd’s skill with a sling had protected sheep from wolves and other predators. Today, the shepherd was more likely to use a gun to protect the sheep. In these uncertain times, the predator was just as likely to be human as animal. The thought forced a sigh from her.

The idyllic scene was suddenly shattered when a dozen men appeared behind Ahmid. Georgia knew that it wasn’t a friendly visit since they were pointing their guns at the young man. The young man slowly turned and looked at the men. His gun was laying against a boulder several paces away, but it might as well have been a mile for all of the good it was doing him.

Even at the distance between them, Georgia could see Ahmid pale as his mind made the calculation concerning his chances of survival. They were bad and getting worse by the minute. He kept glancing at the rifle wondering if he could reach it before getting killed and the answer he kept coming up with, was ‘no.’

She took the time to count the men and marveled at the fact that it was an even dozen. It made her wonder why there weren’t eleven or fourteen of them. There were times when she felt that two, three, and twelve were magic numbers. It seemed like things always came in pairs, triples, or dozens. However, the situation was serious enough that she couldn’t afford worrying about little things like that.

Adjusting the rifle, Georgia took aim at the leader of the men. She had never shot a man and didn’t think she could do it. When the man raised his rifle to shoot Ahmid, her finger curled around the trigger. The big man fell a second after her rifle spit forth a bullet.

The other men, surprised by the sudden death of their leader, turned to locate their attacker. Ahmid, a decently intelligent young man, ran for cover. Georgia fired off two more shots before the group managed to return fire. Although this was the first time she had ever engaged an enemy for real, Georgia discovered that she was truly in her element. She ducked down and crawled away to change her location.

Fifty meters from where she had initially fired upon the terrorists, Georgia looked out over the valley. The sheep had scattered as a result of the five men charging towards her original position. Shaking her head, she adjusted her position to take care of them. Three shots later and the number of terrorists had been reduced by three.

The battle lasted most of the afternoon. It had turned into a sniper’s war; long distance shots at targets that were doing their best not to be seen. Headshots were the order of the day. It was difficult because not one rifle had a scope. Georgia was at a huge disadvantage in terms of numbers, but she was much more patient then those she faced and she was better prepared to hide herself.

Georgia had lost track of the location of Ahmid during the course of the fight, but she wasn’t all that worried about him. The attention of the terrorists was on her and he had plenty of time to make good his escape. The rifle that he had left behind had disappeared when she changed positions for the last time. Three terrorists remained and she didn’t think any of them had been by the rifle. The disappearance of the rifle bothered her.

A shot rang out and, from the sound of it, Georgia knew that it wasn’t aimed at her. Two men suddenly moved around the rocks they had been hiding behind. She took aim at the furthest man and squeezed the trigger. The man collapsed on the ground. The other man turned to face her. She squeezed off another shot and that man fell to the ground.

She was now facing a dilemma. She was confident that eleven of the original twelve men were out of action. The twelfth man’s condition was in doubt. Had Ahmid shot the twelfth man or had he missed. Her dilemma was solved when she noticed movement heading in the direction from which Ahmid’s shot had originated.

What followed was a ballet in slow motion. The terrorist was slowly moving in the direction of Ahmid. The young man was moving in an effort to keep safe. Georgia was moving slowly to reach a position that would allow her a good shot at the last terrorist. The end came quickly when Georgia put a bullet in the heart of the terrorist.

After moving to a new position with the same kind of care taken earlier, Georgia paused to recount the shots fired and the men killed. Three times she worked through the chain of events and kept coming to the same answer. Twelve terrorists were dead. That didn’t mean she was safe. There could have been others present in the area that she hadn’t seen. Deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, she settled in to watch the area for any sign that others were moving around.

 
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