Super Flu
Chapter 1

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Post Apocalypse, MaleDom, Spanking, Light Bond, Polygamy/Polyamory, White Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Pregnancy,

Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A virus decimates earths population. This is one rednecks story of survival. Some sex, although that is not the theme. Not a stroke story. First time author, let me know what you think.

Junior McCoy loved the rumble of the three inch straight pipes as he pressed the accelerator closer to the floor. He threw the wheel over, mud lugs on the rear tires showering the brush along the road with rocks and dust. Ted Nugent howled out "Cat Scratch Fever", powered amp making the 4x4 vibrate with the bass as he rode the brakes into the next corner. His right foot played the accelerator and brake like a fine instrument as the 350 under the hood roar out its own tune. Shooting out of the apex of the curve he pressed the gas pedal all the way down, getting that small floating feeling in his gut as he topped a hill.

"Shit!" Junior yelled as his feet slammed on the clutch and brake, the dust billowing around him as he fought the wheel as the back of the truck tried it's best to become the front. His eyes sought an opening as his brain sorted the options, try to spin around and get the hell away, or try to squeeze past the vehicle sideways in the road. Then his eyes recognized Sheriff Pembrook himself standing by the Ford Explorer blocking the road, lights flashing red and blue.

"Shit!" Junior yelled again, visions of himself in irons headed to prison for running shine filling his mind. He had just intended to stop by and visit his Pa for a few minutes, and had let himself be talked into running twenty gallons of Pa's best home brew into Gatlinburg for him. As his 1985 Chevy slid to a halt he stuffed the half empty bottle of beer down by the bucket seat, and threw the tranny into neutral. As the brown cloud of limestone dust settled on the scene the Sheriff hitched his worn Sam Browne belt into a more comfortable position and walked over to Junior's door. Junior swung the door open and looked down at the Sheriff. Having a six inch body lift and Mickey Thompsons on your truck made you look down on most things, as Junior was fond of saying.

Junior punched the power button on the stereo, muting the sound to the Kraco speakers as he raised a nonchalant eyebrow at the Sheriff.

"Problems Sheriff?" he asked mildly. Junior liked Pembrook, even if he was a "law dog" and had even deer hunted with him on occasion.

"Where you headed Bubba?" Pembrook called everyone Bubba, unless he was dealing with you in an official capacity. Hearing this Junior relaxed a little. Still, knowing that his truck bed was full of one gallon plastic jugs of moonshine his asshole didn't relax totally.

"Runnin' in to town to get some vittles for Pa. I stopped by on the way back from Hiram Walker's place and Pa's feelin' a little poorly. With Ma gone he don't eat right, and I thought I'd get him some real food, not something that came out of a can. Need to stop at the Doc's and get him some pills. He's got an awful cough."

Pembrook nodded his head understandingly. When Mary McCoy had passed away 18 months ago, George McCoy had begun to partake of his own product a little too much. And it hadn't gotten any better. Nowadays the only thing George seemed to care about was his still. No matter how lit he got, he still turned out the best shine in this part of Tennessee.

"When you' all gonna make an honest woman of that Sarah? Got to hand it to you there Bubba, she's the best looking thing come out of these here parts in recent memory. Was I a few years younger I might give you some competition for that one." Junior knew that last was a joke. In his job Pembrook had been offered a roll in the hay in exchange for looking the other way more than once. He would just laugh, dig out his wallet and show the lady a picture of his wife. She was a fox, no doubt about it, and Pembrook made it no secret she kept him too satisfied to be looking elsewhere.

"Besides, she'd geld me in a hurry if I ever thought about steppin' out on her. She's got enough Cherokee in her to know how to collect a scalp right proper too." He'd told Junior once.

"Sorry Junior, I can't let you go into town. Besides, I figured you's up here would stay put till this thing blew over." At Junior's blank look he shook his head. "I keep forgetting the Whitman's nor your Pa has a TV. Ain't you caught the news this week Junior?" At Junior's negative head shake he continued.

"Seems there's some kind of super flu going around. Not just here, but all over, hell the news said it started in China, and them slant eyes are dying by the millions. Course they got about a billion of 'em over there so a few less ain't gonna hurt nuttin'. Seems we've all been infected, even over here. It's a powerful disease and if'n you got anything else wrong with ya, it slowly weakens you till you can't even breathe and die of pneumonia. Seems it takes a while to get you, and it had spread clear around the whole world before the first one's started dying. Plus it started out killing the weak and those that had compromised immune systems first. So a lot of homeless people and old people kicked the bucket first, and it took them awhile to realize that something was up. Now the talking heads on CNN say that we all got it, and that somewhere near to 75% of the population is gonna die."

As Junior tried to wrap his head around what the Sheriff had said one corner of his brain noticed the man's speech pattern had changed. Junior had noticed this before, and figured the Sheriff's good ole' boy persona was just that and hid a very intelligent and well learned man.

"It gets worse Junior." The Sheriff went on. "Seems with all the people dying, things are starting to go to pot. Folks ain't showing up for work, and jobs that need doing to keep life going on ain't getting done. Hell, yesterday the whole eastern seaboard, from Maine clear down to Georgia lost power. Seems that some of the power plants ain't got enough people to keep making power. That overloaded the rest and the whole system crashed. To top it all off we got people fleeing the big cities, trying to get away from all the dying, showing up here and things are going to get bad here real quick. Was I you, I'd pack up what I need and head out to that place you got out in Montana. Get up in them mountains and stay there about six months. The doctors say that's how long it will take for this thing to run it's course, and it's gonna be bad, real bad." Sheriff Pembrook eyed him solemnly for a minute.

"You best turn around and fetch your Pa over to your place. Could be he's got this thing in a bad way but you've always been healthy as a horse. Could be you'll make it when others don't. You'll have to go back that way anyways, a log truck lost its brakes 'bout a mile down the road and turned over. That's why I happened to be here when you come by. So long Junior, and God be with you. I think were all gonna need Him real bad before this is over."

Just then the Sheriff's radio squawked in his ear, thumbing the mic he told someone to "Go ahead" as he walked away. Junior sat for a minute digesting what the Sheriff had told him. Thinking of it later, he realized he was still a little disbelieving of what he had heard. He knew the Sheriff wouldn't lie to him, but what the man had said was just too much to take in all at once. Slowly turning around, he made his way to his Pa's at a much more sedate pace. While he tried to accept what he had heard, his subconscious mind was at work. Later he would attribute the training he had gotten in the Marines for his quick thinking, because he wasn't really thinking at all. Junior arrived at his Pa's and after filling him in on what the

Sheriff had told him received the answer he expected.

"Son, your Ma is buried right over there under that tree, along with two of your brothers, a sister, and my parents and grandparents. You're the only living relative I got left, and it would be nice to see the family name live on. You just go and do what the Sheriff said. Get your ass out to that place you got out west and ride this thing out. If I make it, you can come and visit when things settle down. If'n I don't, well, I don't. But you ain't no dummy and I got a feeling you'll do just fine."

Junior grabbed his father and hugged him, then turned and climbed up in his truck quickly, not wanting his Pa to see the tears in his eyes. Throwing the truck into gear he headed home, plans already forming in the back of his mind.

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