Chapter 50: We Interrupt This Story...

Looking out on each side of the seaplane, Darren and Chuck watched the islands pass below them. Darren’s arm was around a busty, tanned blonde that no one on earth would recognize as Melissa Turnbull.

“It’s surreal,” Darren said, turning to face his new friends. “I feel like I’ve seen more action since Larry brought me back around than I saw in a year in Afghanistan. I’m sure that’s not true but...”

“If it is, count your blessings,” Chuck said, his nose stuck in a PC, as usual. “Until my colossal fuck-up, I was worried that my son would enlist when his athletic career was over. I guess he still could, but I suspect that he’d never make it past the psych evaluation.”

“I served a full tour,” Melissa said, her life story not matching up with the body she temporarily inhabited. “It could be the most boring job on earth for 99 days, then on the 100th day it could get you killed. One close call was enough for me.”

“So you’re saying being shot at in the third world is more dangerous than being shot at as a cop?” Chuck asked.

Melissa swept her full head of frosted blonde hair aside and frowned. “Not really. But as a cop sometimes you feel like you have the home field advantage.”

“Only a jock would put it that way,” Darren said, smiling.

“I played on a state finalist softball team in high school and went to college on an athletic scholarship,” Melissa sighed. “Does that qualify me to be a jock?”

“Pretty much,” Darren said, Chuck nodding agreement. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Just so’s you guys know – if I wake up one morning with a dick, I am going to empty this Glock in your ass,” she said with a golden girl smile that belonged exclusively to a Miss Utah finalist a few weeks ago.

The men shared a chuckle over the surreal circumstances in which they’d been dropped.

“Do you mind me asking this favor?” Darren said after long silence, turning to face the brilliant programmer.

“Not at all,” Chuck said, putting his hand on Darren’s shoulder. “I think you’re incredibly brave to even consider this.”

“No, not brave. I was a fucked-up druggie who had the good fortune to be cleaned up, physically and emotionally,” he shrugged as Melissa turned to face him with concern. “I made a mistake – no, that’s not even close to being right. I committed a heinous act, and Master PC somehow has the ways and means to make it right. How can I not take advantage of that?”

“You’re sure you won’t get in legal trouble if you approach this woman?” Chuck asked.

“I’m sure I will,” he replied. “That’s why I need Master PC to be my point man.”

“I thought I was your point man,” Melissa giggled. “Damn, I hate this cute blonde laugh.”

“No, you’re my wingman,” Darren said. “But I’m in your debt, both of you.”

“You guys don’t even know the favor I’m going to ask,” Melissa said. “But it will keep. Other things are more important now, beginning with Holly’s family. I’m flattered that you guys feel like I can help.”

“Well, if we don’t get killed, I think a happily ever after is in order for all of us,” Chuck nodded.

“That’s all I can ask,” Darren shook his hand and hugged Melissa. “I wish you well with your family.”

“They’re a fucked-up bunch,” Chuck said. “But I don’t think there’s much I can do except pay Todd’s bail. Hope he doesn’t mind waiting while we take little side trip to the wilds of Idaho.”

“That sounds redundant,” Darren laughed. “Have we given Holly enough time?”

“She said she wouldn’t need much,” Melissa said. “She only needed enough time to find the bitch who kidnapped her the first time and acquire those little items we talked about. Once we get there, if this works correctly, it should take her very little time to find her daughter and clue her in.”

There are parts of Idaho that are more secure than Fort Knox; literally there are more weapons per square foot than there are in most government armories. All this in the name of paranoia and personal security; no local would dare fuck with the Sunset Citadel.

As private and as secretive as the formidable fortress was – and had been since the 60s – it was also a good neighbor. Men who lived and served the Sunset Citadel also lent their skills and weapons to some of their neighboring communes as security. In return, farming communes shared their bounty and one super-secret compound was exclusively dedicated to making ammo for many guns of the Sunset Citadel.

It was there, “The Plant” it was called, that Holly Danvers was drawn as a disillusioned teen by a “friend” who was, in fact, nothing more than a recruiter for a closed society that needed fertile women to procreate and remain viable. And Holly, who was already pregnant, was as fertile as she was attractive.

“Wow. It looks like a fort,” the redhead marveled as she was literally led by the hand by her new friend.

“It’s very secure,” said Janey, who was already excited at the reward she would received for bringing this one home. “No gets in we don’t want in.”

“Or out?” Holly asked, thinking she was just making small talk.

Janey looked closer and her new acquisition and wondered for a fleeting moment if she were a spy – then just as quickly dismissed it.

“Or out,” she agreed. “But we come and go as we please – as long as we have permission.”

A small, heavily reinforced outpost was in front of them, almost obscured by the tall wall behind it. But the Secret Service would envy the firepower the two guards controlled from this small location.

“Hello, Janey. Welcome home,” said the deceptively friendly guard. “Who’s your friend?”

“Hello, Mr. Guard. This is Holly,” Janey made the introductions. “Holly, this my friend and protector, Mr. Guard.”

“How do you do sir,” Holly said politely, extending her hand. But the guard did not return the gesture.

“Janey, please tell your friend our rules about eye contact,” he said firmly but somehow cordially.

“Holly, do not look your superiors in the eye unless they give you permission,” Janey said, waving her hands to look away. Holly then realized that Janey had been looking down the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” Holly said, lowering her eyes and re-extending her hand. “No offense intended.”

Mr. Guard shook it and smiled, Holly could tell. “None taken. You just need to learn our rules if you stay here,” he said. “Please allow me to search your bag.”

Holly handed it over without objection. Mr. Guard was not taking any chances; that was because any mistake by the external security guards would, by rule, be fatal.

One by one, he removed and inspected the garments Holly thought were essential. One by one, he eliminated them as frivolous. Most of them were her designer bras; she always enjoyed knowing how pretty/sexy she was beneath her clothes. He showed similar disdain for her thongs and frilly panties. Only when he came upon her granny panties, those that were worn during her period, that he approved.

“This is what is allowed here,” he said. “Only what is needed.”

“You won’t need to wear a bra,” Janey said. “I tried to tell you.”

“But I’m a full C cup,” Holly protested. “They’ll be flopping all over the place.”