Chapter 12: Pinball

Tamara moved her body slowly, her husband's half-hard penis pressing a couple of inches into her vagina. She'd woken early in the morning to feel her daughter's ass slide against her thighs, the sixteen-year old turning over onto her side. The girl seemed to be sleeping.

Lauren's flesh had felt warm against her, half-conscious thoughts of touching her made Tamara grow wet quickly. She imagined the scene Gene had described, Lauren masturbating and putting her father's cum between her lips, tasting the semen that had been in Tamara's ass just moments before.

Tamara had unconsciously slipped her hand back to Gene, found his penis, and stroked it before bringing it to her pussy, pushing back and taking his semi-hard cock inside her. Tamara moaned quietly, moving gently, her husband's dick growing hard inside her cunt. She wasn't sure if he was awake and didn't care. It felt so good to fuck him like that while her own hips moved softly against Lauren's ass.

She let her hand trail down her own body as she humped Gene, hesitated a moment before running it forward on to Lauren's thigh. Tamara let it linger only a moment, just long enough to send tingling thrills through her body, just enough to feel her daughter's warm flesh on hers.

Tamara started to shudder, tried to control it, returned her hand to her own body and slipped it between Lauren's ass and her own hips. Her daughter's soft butt cheeks were hot, tender as her hand slid down and caressed her own clit. Lauren's breathing was still shallow and steady, the girl apparently unaware that her mother was fucking Gene and masturbating at once, the teen's body pressed back against her mom's as Tamara's orgasm mounted.

The door burst open and Tamara froze. Lauren jumped immediately, as did her husband. A man leaned in, panting, shouted, "Up! Get up! Gotta move now. Hurry!"

Five bodies jumped out of bed, three of them naked. The man yelled, "thirty seconds, meet me by the stairs!"

Finch and Logan started to run. Tamara shouted. "Boys! Clothes!"

The five of them jumped into shirts and pants quickly, were by the stairs in seconds.

A tall, black-skinned man in a tight black body suit took Gene's arm, said brusquely, "You with me. The rest of you follow Private Sanderson. Come."

Tamara grabbed her husband's hand, pleaded, "no! Don't separate us!"

"Ma'am, I have my orders. Move. Now!"

Gene was pulled away quickly, the tall man joined by four other heavily-armed camouflaged men. More soldiers pushed Tamara and the children toward the back of the house and through a small hallway leading to steps down.

Gene was furious. He'd been ripped away from his family and he had no idea why. The man holding his arm kept his iron grip in place as they moved quickly around the house and toward the high point of land to the East. "What's happening? Where are you taking me?"

"Forces moving in on the compound. Not safe for you here right now."

"Not safe? What about my family?"

"They'll be fine, Mr. Polanski. Right now, you have to flee."

"I'm not leaving without them!"

"Yes, you are."

The man's voice was too flat for Gene's taste, and it made him even angrier. "You sonofabitch! Let me go! I have to get my family!"

The black man didn't slow down, and didn't loosen his grip. Gene reared back his other arm and punched him as hard as he could.

The dark-suited man barely registered the attack. He stopped for two seconds, looked to his side at Gene. "Try that again and I swear to god this will be the most miserable ride of your life." With that, he turned back and picked back up his rapid pace, a second soldier taking Gene's other arm in that same iron grip.

"Mom, what's happening?" Lauren's voice was distraught. Seeing her dad taken away was frightening enough. Not having him with them in the small dark room made it worse.

"I don't know. Private, what's going on?"

The soldier held his position, squatted near a wall that opened next to the door. He'd led them down two flights of long stairs, and a handful of narrow tunnels before leading them into the crowded room. Three more soldiers were stationed along the entrance to their location.

Private Sanderson replied sharply. "Unknown people spotted milling around the base of the hill to the South. Believe them to be hostiles, they're certainly armed."

Tamara huddled on a low couch with Finch pressed into her side. Her nerves had her trembling. Why did they separate us? Oh, God. Gene! Please be ok! "S-so ... what next? We just sit here?"

"Until we're ordered to do otherwise. Please. Right now, silence. Tense situation, ok? Need to stay focused. Just sit and wait. We'll be fine."

Tamara let out an exasperated laugh and almost cried. It wasn't the fear, it was the frustration that had her so close to the tears. She wanted to do something, anything. Sitting and waiting while her husband wasn't there was the most powerless feeling in the world to her. At least my kids are safe... She hugged them all to her, and they held tightly. No one cried, but the fear in their faces was certainly mirrored in her own.

She spoke sharply. "At least give us weapons!"

Sanderson grunted, reached quickly into the black bag beside them, pulled out a P228 and a small machine gun Tamara did not recognize. He slapped them into her hands, dropped a bag at her feet, said, "clips," and returned to his position. Tamara hesitated only a second before putting the pistol in Lauren's shaking hand and pushing a clip into it, then did the same to her own. Tamara inhaled sharply, tried to catch her breath, and twitched the safety off.

The small helicopter moved quickly through the deep valley under dark, cloudy skies just as dawn began to push through the cover. Gene sat with his back slouched, the fight out of him for the moment. He felt like a child, unable to make his own decisions. Worse, he felt like he'd just lost his family. No one would tell him more than what Sergeant Wullis, the black man who'd barely felt his punch, told him on the brisk walk up to the chopper, and he wondered if his family was already dead.

Wullis sat across from him beside two soldiers, the other two pressed to either side of Gene. The sergeant occasionally spoke into a headset but the roar in the cabin kept Gene from making out his words. What Gene could see through the small windows was beautiful, but a hollow kind of beautiful. The worst kind, the kind that showed the promise of the joy but nothing else. His family was miles behind him, a distance that grew every second, and Gene could only feel gut-wrenching loss at the way he'd been ripped from them.

"Mike-One reporting a breach. Protocol fifteen is in order. If they get into the second level, there's a switch under the desk. When I tell you to, flip it, and run immediately to the end of the passage. It is long, but keep moving. Don't stop, and don't turn down hallways. Just stay on the path." Sanderson called back over his shoulder, getting his rifle settled into his shoulder.

"What? Jesus, they're here? In the house?"

"Yes, now shut it! Please. Just do as I say!"

Tamara shook, felt under the desk for the switch, ready to push it into position. She heard shouting, then automatic rifle fire.

"Do it! Do it!"

Sanderson's words rang in her ear as her finger flipped the switch. A metallic whine signaled a moving panel that rapidly swung open. Tamara pushed her kids ahead of her, yelled, "run, run!" More firing behind them, shouting, Sanderson's rifle booming loudly through the metal passage.

All the explosions, the gunfire, the times they were almost killed in cars and planes and trucks, nothing compared to running a few dozen feet in front of a boiling firefight. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to do but run. Finch ran for his life, his feet slamming against the metal floor as he sprinted ahead of everyone.

Shouting and gunfire echoed as they rounded a corner, fled past several corridors. Finch had heard the direction to stay on the main path, and his mind had room only for that as his terror threatened to overcome him.

Finch glanced over his shoulder, his brother right behind him, Lauren and his mom only a few feet further back. He saw the fear on their faces, tried to steel himself, and ran as fast as he ever had.

Lauren's legs were numb by the time they slid out into the grey daylight. Gunfire echoed around the mountains, punctuated by dull thuds. The landing overlooked a river, the cliff easily twenty feet high.

The path seemed to go nowhere.

Lauren looked at her mom. The woman's head turned quickly, taking in the situation, she said, "jump! Jump now!"

The sixteen-year old girl didn't hesitate. She gripped the pistol tight and leapt out from the cliff as far as she could.

Logan's fear overcame his excitement. All his fantasies had involved running from well-armed enemies, but in those, he'd always felt in control, knew how things would turn out, eager to show his ability to survive. The reality of the run, gunfire splattering behind them, had destroyed his imagination's view of things, left him moving mechanically and trying not to trip over his brother's feet.

He'd jumped immediately into the water when his mother shouted, unable to think for himself or ponder his options. He was so afraid he almost drowned, panic hitting him as he splashed into the cold water, down deep before he thought to surface and breathe.

The water moved him swiftly downstream. Lauren bobbed ahead of him. He looked back to see his brother and Mom a few dozen yards behind. Looking forward, he saw a sharp turn in the flow and sucked in his breath when he saw the white water churning a hundred yards away.

Tamara swam with the current, trying to close the distance with her children. She'd dropped the weapon as she hit the water, the firearm long forgotten. She caught Finch first, urged him to move with her toward the others. They bobbed and splashed with each stroke, staying afloat on nerve and fear.

They caught Lauren just as they spotted the white churn ahead. Tamara shouted, "Logan, look out!"

There was nothing they could do, no way to safely get to shore along the steep banks. Tamara said a small prayer and braced herself.

Logan's body felt like a pinball, the churning water slamming him through twists and turns and small drops. He sucked in breath when he could, often being yanked below the surface only to shoot out and fly over another drop. Any other time, he might have enjoyed the ride, but the flight from the mansion safe room had cost him his sense of enjoyment, leaving the frightening rapids just one more thing trying to kill him.

Gene's head pounded as they flew East then South, rising over snow-covered caps and slipping close to the surface before moving down quickly into the next valley. His guts were churning, both from his sense of loss and from the tight maneuvers the pilot executed without regard to his passengers.

His head pounded, the changing air pressure rapidly pushing his mind into a dull, painful vice. Gene tried to calm down but found that he could not force away the thoughts of his family, of his anger at being separated. He leaned up and yelled in the sergeant's ear, "where we going?"

"Somewhere safe."

Gene sat back and simmered.

Minover. Wwh-what? What the fuck is Minover? Where'd that come from? The thought was there only a moment, just enough to bother Gene greatly. The word had come unbidden, a whisper against the backdrop of his swirling emotions. Minover... But nothing else made sense about the word, nothing mapped to something he could describe. Gene stewed as he watched the trees zip by only a few feet below the fast-flying helicopter. He groaned, felt a bit sick, and tried to force his body to shake just a little less.

"I don't know, Logan. I'm working on it. Just sit a moment."

They'd washed down the river for quite some distance before Tamara had directed them to pull out on a narrow, grassy strip that ran along one edge of the river. They sat huddled, dripping, a few bruises and cuts from the rapids being tenderly prodded.

She had no idea where they were, and when her son had asked her what they should do next, she was lost as to how to answer him. Tamara looked around her. The ground sloped steeply up around them, but it looked passable. She looked upriver, thought they'd probably travelled at least a mile before pulling out.

Tamara wrung out her clothes, noticed that Lauren still held the pistol. "How did you manage that?" she said, nodding toward where her daughter gripped the P228 in her hand.

"Uh ... didn't know it was still here." Lauren couldn't let go easily, even as Tamara carefully unwrapped the girl's fingers from the hilt and took it from her.

Tamara eyed the hill, made a decision. "Let's move. The further we get away from the compound the better right now. Follow me."

Wullis leaned forward, shouted in Gene's ear, "putting down. You sit here."

Gene grumbled, becoming more angry than frightened again. The longer they'd been in the air, the more he regretted not breaking the man's jaw. He'd tried three times to get the man to explain what was going on, where he was going, but Wullis had refused to answer.

The helicopter slowed and leveled, pivoted around, and descended, landing in a large grassy field surrounded by rising mountain faces. Wullis and three of the soldiers jumped out and disappeared, one remaining behind with Gene. The pilot flicked switches and otherwise sat still in the idling aircraft.

Gene pondered running, daring them to shoot him. The open door offered the chance, nothing restrained him. Impulse hit to do it, he braced, then doubts slammed in. I don't know where I am, I have no weapons, and my family needs me to get back to them quickly. Fuck ... what to do...

Gene waited a long thirty seconds before he heard the engine begin to wind up again, the helicopter inching up off the ground. The pilot hovered, waited.

A black-suited body skittered into cabin, a flash of metal and movement. Gene saw just a blur as a fist slammed into the neck of the soldier next to him, then yanked back, a bloody knife held tight. The soldier gurgled, grasped at his neck. The black blur grabbed the man's vest, yanked him and tossed him out of the chopper just as the pilot began to gain altitude.