Chapter 20: Double-Team

"Jesus is back." Anna's voice called out to him, no sign of the vulnerable, passionate woman who'd shared a bed with Gene an hour earlier. "Let's go meet him on the pad."

He rose from where he was studying lines of code, sat aside the coffee he'd been sipping, and followed the short blonde through the corridors and back above ground. The helicopter pad was a small, unmarked concrete area on the South end of the complex. Aside from a tattered orange windsock, there was nothing more to signify its purpose. A solid black, medium-sized helicopter sat on the pad, blades slowly rotating and winding down. Gene covered his face with the thin cloth he'd been given by Anna, and waited with her a couple dozen yards away.

The wind and blowing sand settled and a figure stepped out of the bird. He was right out of Magnum P.I, a loosely-closed red and orange Hawaiian shirt over a pair of cutoff blue jean shorts that looked ratty and worn. He wore oversized aviator shades and his hair was tightly bundled in cornrows on top and ran into braids down his back. His black skin was matched by the black sandals on his feet.

He approached quickly, threw his arms wide, "Anna!" He drew out her name as they shared a tight hug, kissing her cheek, then looking at Gene, arm around Anna's shoulder. "You're him, then?"

Anna moved a foot away from the man, smiled, said, "this is him. Gene, meet Jesus."

Jesus ignored Gene's outstretched hand and gave him as strong an embrace as he'd given Anna. "Pleasure, my friend," he said, then kissed Gene's cheek.

Anna interjected, "shall we get out of this sand? I'm gritty already."

Jesus nodded, let go of Gene, then followed Anna down into the bunkers. Gene trailed behind shaking his head.

Inside, Anna led them to the large relaxation area and poured three tall glasses of bourbon. After handing them to Gene and Jesus, she said, "so you secured a bird."

"Wasn't easy. Took me three hours to strip out the tracers and beacons in it. Should have Charlotte give it another once-over to be sure I missed nothing."

"I'm sure you were thorough." Anna sipped her drink, said, "but in these times, never hurts to have a second set of hands on things." She shared a look with Jesus and his hand slid down her thigh.

Jesus turned back to Gene, said, "you're not what I expected."

Gene eyed him, replied, "the feeling is mutual."

Jesus laughed, pulled at his shirt, hairy chest displayed openly, and said, "oh, this? It's my disguise. My business shirt is blue and has dolphins on it."

Gene shook his head, laughed. "So ... what exactly is it you do?"

"Finger on the pulse."

"Come again?"

"When people say M1 has a finger on the pulse, they mean me, generally speaking. I'm the cog in the wheel. I know shit that I don't even know I know."

Anna smiled, "I certainly hope so."

"Easy, Snowflake. The shrooms are just starting to kick in, no messing with my ego until it dissolves."

"Seriously?"

"Completely. Glad I got the bird down before the trails really started."

"Jesus Christ," Anna cursed.

"In the flesh."

She stood up, patted his head, and motioned Gene to follow her.

Jesus called after them, "later, dudes." He already seemed to be melting into the couch.

His sister's panicked attempt to push Georges off her and slam her thighs together was not fast enough to hide the glob of semen which drooled out of the sixteen-year old's pussy before her genitals were hidden from Finch's eyes. The fifteen-year old felt the universe slow down for him, Lauren's dark labia splayed open as Georges' penis slid out, his creamy cum slowly following. In all the world, he'd never seen a more interesting sight. Finch's pants were tented before Lauren's legs came together. She snatched her clothes and held them in front of her, skin red and glistening with sweat.

"This place does that to people," Hannah said with a wicked grin.

While Lauren looked mortified and tried desperately to pull her clothes on without revealing her naked body, Georges replied, "sorry, we got carried away. Was my fault..." He didn't look apologetic to Finch. The boy's penis continued to throb, leaking sperm, while the brothers and and his twin sister looked on.

"Well ... anyway, we've got a picnic, bet you two are hungry after that."

Georges jumped into his clothes and was seated on the blanket by the time Lauren had adjusted her own. She'd said nothing, avoided Finch's curious glances. He was so hard it hurt, and twice he reached down to adjust his cock. His brother simply stared, slack-jawed, as Lauren sunk down onto the edge of the blanket and away from everyone. A wet spot slowly spread through the crotch of her light blue pants.

Hannah and Georges picked up the conversation as if nothing had happened. They talked about what it was like to live on the farm, the wildlife, pointed to where they could fish and hike nearby, how they like to skinny dip when the weather was warm. While they munched, Hannah managed to settle closer to Finch, had her leg touching his, smiling his way a time or two.

Finch's hormones were raging and he was certain again he was in love. Out of sight of the others, Hannah's arm moved lightly onto his back and touched him gently, nothing much, but it was everything to a horny fifteen-year old. She smiled at him again and pulled her hand away.

Whatever this was, love or something else, Finch was hooked on Hannah despite the way he relived seeing Lauren's messy pussy over and over in his mind.

"Sorry about that. Never got the hang of people." Hilda sat facing Tamara and Hannigan in the low-light of two half-burned candles in the small dining area of her cabin. She'd led Tamara through woods and along property lines for almost two hours before they'd gotten there, saying nothing and keeping her automatic held in that grey area between threatening and rest.

She'd intercepted Hannigan when he was about to pick the market door, sent him ahead while she went to collect Tamara. By the time they arrived to join him, he'd made a beef soup and dished out big bowls of the steaming meal.

Hilda looked wooden, despite the occasional odd grin. Her mannerisms said she spent a lot of time not thinking about what other people might make of her. "Really didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to get back here quickly."

"It's fine," said Tamara, not completely fine.

"Why this? You could have left me a mark, let us know where to meet you." Hannigan shoveled another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"Couldn't. Well, didn't want to take chances, really. Lot has changed since the last time you were through here, Marcus, too many people know those marks, now."

Tamara's eye raised. "Marcus?"

"Yeah, that's my first name. No one but Hilda calls me that, though."

"Marcus and I go way back. I was in M1 long before he arrived, left before he did." Tamara was completely unable to place her age. She could have been forty or sixty. The camouflage paint on her face didn't help. "Worked together a while in Cambodia, Russia, elsewhere. Haven't seen him in a couple of years, though. Glad he's come around." She eyed Tamara flatly, "hope you aren't bringing something well-armed to my doorstep."

Hannigan dropped the spoon into the empty bowl, "I don't know ... but we should expect that's the case." Hilda held her flat expression as Hannigan explained the situation. "I didn't have anyone else to turn to. We're out of cash, and the only option we have is going to be tough to reach. To boot, I'm starting to doubt Afghanistan is the right place to go."

"Well, shit," was all Hilda said for a moment, contemplating his words. "Been in this cabin on and off for almost twenty years, and wholly here the last five. Sounds like I just got compromised."

Hannigan looked sunken. "I'm really sorry, Hilda. Really. I wasn't thinking about what it meant to you to bring her here. I shouldn't have."

Hilda waved her hand, "it's done. Apology accepted." She cast a flat smile in his direction. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I still owe you after you pulled my ass out of the fire on the Korean border."

Hannigan tilted his head, returned a weak smile. "That was the worst train ride, ever."

"So what do we do?" Tamara cut in, feeling weary and in need of direction.

"Should be ok here tonight," Hilda replied, "I've got a few ideas. Problem is ... See, I never trusted Victor, and I left M1 over that. Seems I was right to do so. I burned more than a few bridges over there, so the thought of trying to contact anyone from M1 has me cringing. Wish old Bridgewater was still alive. That man always knew what to do in any situation."

Hannigan looked thoughtful, "Bridgewater ... Yeah, can't forget that name. Never worked with him directly, but the tales they told ... if even half of it was true, Bridgewater was a god among men. I hear rumor that his daughters are as good as he was."

"What happened to him?" Tamara asked as she finished her soup and let out a small belch.

"Killed in Armenia. Saved a hundred lives all by himself. They dragged his corpse through the streets. Pretty well known that Anna and Holly burned those guys to the ground they were so angry."

"Wait ... did you say 'Holly'?"

Hilda replied, "Bridgewater's daughter ... youngest."

"I met her! That's the young blonde that helped us escape and got us to Victor's. She's Victor's granddaughter."

Hannigan nodded. "Gotta wonder where her loyalties are right now. She was deep into Victor's shit game, seriously hope we don't run into her or Anna. Those two are dangerous. Don't let that blonde hair fool you, they're sharp and they'll kill you faster than you can spit."

"She saved my family ... beyond that ... I don't know..." Tamara felt the fear again, the moments of rushed flight, gunfire, explosions, the separation from her husband at Victor's compound. "Got anything to drink?"

Hilda watched her without expression. "Suspect you're needing something stronger than coffee." She stood, reached into the cabinet, pulled out a dusty bottle half-filled with a dark liquid, rinsed it in the sink. "Never knew what it was, and it tastes like dog piss. But it does the trick." She poured them all glasses, tossed in a couple of ice cubes, and slammed half of hers before Tamara could even lift the glass.

Fire raced from her lips to her gut and Tamara nearly choked on the vapors. Still, despite the sour flavor, it burned nicely going down and it took no time at all for her to finish it and look toward the bottle for seconds.

"Mom should be back with groceries, she'll need some help." Georges looked down at his sister and smiled, turned to Lauren, said, "want to come with?"

The girl nodded, had said nothing since the others had caught her fucking the tall, handsome teen. She stood as Hannah repacked the basket and handed it to her brother. Logan watched the two walk into the trees and disappear in the shadowy foliage.

The three sat on the blanket, Hannah's grin never fading. "So ... what do you two do for fun?"

Logan shook his head, unsure how to answer.

Finch spoke up, "nothing lately. We've ... we've been running for weeks. None of it has been fun. None of it."

"Oh, come on. Gotta be something to keep you sane. Masturbating a lot?"

Finch's face became red as he sputtered, "wh—what? Uh ... no..."

"Bullshit. Don't worry, it's normal. Everyone does it."

Logan asked, "everyone? Even you?"

Hannah giggled, "sure. Everyone. I bet even your sister does."

The boys were silent, Logan's mind racing with memories of seeing his sister's hairy genitals wet and sticky. She'd been doing just that.

"Anyway..." she looked toward Finch, "want to wrestle?"

"Huh?" the fifteen-year old exclaimed.

"Wrestle. I'm pretty good at it. I beat Georges all the time. Come on, I'll show you how."

The dark-haired girl got onto her feet and pulled Finch to his while Logan watched.

"Start like this. Put your hands on my shoulders, and when I say 'go' try to pin me down." Finch looked very nervous, but Logan was certainly interested in where things might go. Maybe he'll pull her shirt off accidentally. I want to see Hannah's boobs!

The fourteen-year old watched as his brother and Hannah grappled a moment before she flipped him over and pinned him, arms held down, her body straddling his. She looked triumphant. "Again!" she cried.

They restarted, this time, she pulled Finch close before sending him crashing to the ground on his stomach, her leg locked around his. "Again!"

Finch tried harder this time, but ended up on his back once more, Hannah again straddling his hips. She held still a moment, sweat on her brow. Her hips wiggled a bit and Finch stared up at her. Whatever was going on, Logan felt his cock rising.

Hannah looked down at Finch, shifting her hips back and forth. "Are you letting me win? I think you like this."

"N—no ... uh..."

The tall girl purred, tilted her ass down on him and wiggled against him. "I'm thinking you do ... hee..."

Slowly she rose off him and helped Finch to his feet. "So..." She eyed Logan with a grin, looked back to Finch. "I'll show mine if you show me yours."

Logan liked where this was going.

Gene stood motionless with Holly beside him, no longer surprised by anything he saw anymore. Charlotte was naked, the pale-skinned woman bouncing up and down on Jesus's lap, his face unfocused and his mouth slack, panting. He kept repeating, "fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes" as the woman rode him.

Holly purred beside Gene, smacked his ass. "Get in there, Gene. She has two holes."

He shook off his stare and replied, "what? No ... no..."

Charlotte turned, flung her dark-red hair to the side, and saw them standing in the doorway, smiled, tilted her head in an invitation, never stopped bouncing on the black man's cock.

"Go for it, Gene. I'm a bit sore or I'd ride that ride myself. Seriously ... how many chances like this do you get?"

He hesitated. His immediate response was to turn around and walk out, but he couldn't help being taken in by the scene in front of him. Charlotte turned again, called out between grunts, "he's not gonna ... uhn ... last much longer ... uhn, Gene ... Come on ... uhn ... been a long time since ... ohh ... I've had two at once ... uhn ... uhn..."

Gene's cock stirred. He'd never been part of a threesome with another man, was surprised by how much the idea turned him on.