What Do You Think Happened?
Chapter 27

Copyright© 2006 by Tony Stevens

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 27 - This story is a little bit offbeat for me. It's intended as an homage to a couple of excellent stories with similar themes published earlier by a couple of the best writers on SOL. Readers will recognize the genre as the story develops, but I don't intend to give it away at the outset. Warning to strokers: This story has some sexual content, but it is limited and slow to develop.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Slow  

It was 10 p.m. It was near the end of only the second full day after our arrival at Brooke. It seemed as if we'd been there for a month. Everybody was dog-tired and too full of tension to sleep. We had organized staggered sleeping schedules -- four hours on, four off -- but most of the people assigned sleeping time found themselves wide awake -- until it was time for them to stay awake for lookout duty, when a painful fatigue seemed to set in almost immediately.

There had been no movement outside. We had Edward, wearing night-vision goggles, moving all about the building almost constantly, looking out of windows at all angles, searching for signs of a sneak attack from any quarter.

Nothing.

The enemy was waiting for the arrival of its reinforcements. Tanks, the big skinny asshole had said. They were bringing tanks from Ft. Hood.

Raymond was teaching Roald how to assist him in firing our AT4. It was, in essence, a small rocket launcher. We had eleven of them, but Raymond wasn't confident enough that anyone could be trained to use the weapon effectively in a dry-firing situation like ours. His plan was to use the weapon himself, with Roald's assistance, firing from the roof of Brooke. "What I hear, this is a pretty good weapon -- even against a tank," Raymond said. "Anyhow, it's the best we've got for that purpose." Raymond had gathered all eleven AT4 launchers, which are just discarded after their rocket is fired, for use on the rooftop. It wasn't much, but, quite literally, it was going to be our best shot.


"HEY, CARTER. YOU OUT THERE, BOY?"

It was the short-wave receiver. Harry, who had been sleepily scanning routinely through the channels, nearly dropped his teeth. Somebody was calling me -- by name! Harry didn't have anybody there with him, to send looking for me. He finally just abandoned the radio and came looking for me himself. I was on the sixth floor, manning the second of our front-side 50-calibers.

"Carter! Somebody is calling you on the radio!"

"Calling me?" I said.

"You!... By name! 'Hey, Carter, ' he said!"

"Where's Ingmar? It might be... them -- out there."

"I don't think it was them," Harry said. "The man sounded -- he sounded -- friendly."

"Find Ingmar, will you? We need to ask him how he wants to play this." I headed down to the fourth floor, to the radio transmitter.

Nobody was talking when I got there. The radio, as usual, was silent except for a moderate buzz of static. Ingmar showed up along with Harry, who was telling him what had happened.

"If the guy called you 'Carter, ' it's got to be somebody who has heard your broadcasts," Ingmar said.

"It could be... the people outside," I said.

"Talk, anyway," Ingmar said, "Just be careful what you say."

"THIS IS CARTER JOHNSON TRANSMITTING, OVER." I was about to say it again, when a big booming voice broke through the silence.

"CARTER! WHERE YOU BEEN, BOY? WE MISSED YOU!" The voice on the radio was friendly -- jovial, even. I looked at Ingmar with a 'what the fuck?' expression on my face.

"Talk to him!" Ingmar said.

"THIS IS CARTER JOHNSON, TRANSMITTING FROM BROOKE ARMY HOSPITAL IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS. OVER."

Well, hell. If this guy on the radio was one of our friends from outside, they already damned well knew where we were.

"LONG TIME SINCE WE HEARD FROM YOU, CARTER!... LEAST-WISE, SINCE YOU WAS DOIN' YOUR REGULAR 'VISIT BEAUTIFUL TEXAS, ' THING, THERE. I MISSED YA!... Y'KNOW, THERE AIN'T THAT MUCH ELSE TO LISTEN TO, ON THE RADIO THESE DAYS."

"WHO ARE YOU? OVER." This happy-go-lucky joker seemed to think I had all night for small talk.

"THIS HERE IS 'NEW START RADIO, '" the voice said.

"NEW START?... WHAT'S 'NEW START'?... OVER."

"WE'RE LIKE YOU, CARTER... WE GOT US A TOWN GOIN', HERE."

"A TOWN? WHERE?... OVER."

"HEY, I ADMIRE YOUR GOOD RADIO PROCEDURE, THERE, DUDE... ALL THEM 'OVERS AND OUTS, ' AND SHIT. THEY'VE BEEN TRYING TO TEACH ME TO DO THAT, TOO... SORRY, I CAN'T TELL YOU WHERE WE ARE... SECURITY."

"YOUR... TOWN... HOW MANY PEOPLE?... OVER."

"SORRY, DUDE. THAT'S A SECURITY THING, TOO. HOW Y'ALL DOIN' DOWN THERE? YOU'RE NOT IN CORPUS NO MORE, ARE YOU?"

"WE WERE DRIVEN OUT -- BY SNIPERS. OVER."

"YEAH. SHIT. WE HEARD YOUR BROADCAST -- T'OTHER NIGHT... YOU GUYS ALL OK NOW?"

I looked at Ingmar. "Just talk to the man!" he said.

 
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