Chapter 12: Trouble Finds Us Again

We snuggled again, drifting back to sleep. I heartily recommend Emily’s treatment for insomnia: I slept as if I were in my own bed and had just, well, just been sucked off.

And, so I awakened well rested, it appeared to be shortly after sunset. I threaded my way out of the hootch, laced up my boots and armed up again, and tiptoed away to drain my bladder. I returned, and started to clear a patch of bare earth for our breakfast. I had just set up the stove, and set some water to boil, when Lucy stretched, wriggled out of the bedding, and, slipping on her boots, came over to me.

She set up some coffee, and gave me an embarrassed grin. “To answer Emily’s question, no I have never seen two people make love before. Well, not in person, I suppose porn movies don’t count, do they?”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t say. For all my been-there-done-that shell, I’ve never been a witness myself. On the other hand, speaking strictly as a man-pig, I certainly appreciate the effect you had on Emily. I’ve romanced some ladies, and always appreciated the efforts they made to have, and share, a good time. Emily certainly ranks up there on the list, but you watching led to an inspired encounter. At least, from where I was sitting.”

Lucy blushed, and turned to preparing her coffee, and making a sandwich. Emily shuffled up, sleepily rubbing her face. She slid beneath my left arm, and reached up for a kiss. I hugged her closely, and met her lips with my own. Lucy “Ahem!”-ed, and handed Emily a cup of coffee, leaving me to my own devices. Emily savored her first sip, and then contributed, “You’re correct. Knowing I was being watched was very exciting. You may not have noticed-hell, I suppose an entire military convoy could have driven through our little campsite and you would not have noticed- but I climaxed as you filled my mouth with your goo. I orgasm occasionally while sucking a guy off, seems more frequently with you, but with Lucy watching, well, it was like I was on stage, and simply lit up! Thank you both!”

We finished our impromptu picnic, packed up, and scoured the site for more litter or other sign of our passage. Finding none, we headed out.

I again took the lead, Lucy a dozen yards behind me, and Emily another dozen yards behind her. When we came upon the curves in the roadway, that led to the bridge approach, I called a halt. We gathered at the side of the road, and spoke in whispers.

“I don’t think that we’ll find anybody there, but I want you girls to hold up, right over there, until I come back and signal you that it looks clear. If you hear firing, then sink deeper into the brush, and see what comes your way. If it looks like bad things, then stop them. Decisively. Otherwise, give me 15-30 minutes to creep around, and then I’ll come back, and fill you in on what I see. Clear?”

Both women nodded. Lucy ventured a question. “So, you want your other shooters to hide in the bushes, while you face danger alone, did I hear you right?”

I looked at Emily, and at Lucy. “Yep. How much time have you spent at a range?”

“None”, Lucy responded.

“So, it’s a pretty safe bet that you do not have any training in small unit tactics, or fire team operations, right?”

Emily chimed in, “Oh, like you do?”

“Nope, I do not. I have spent a lot of time at the range, and I’ve been hunting deer in Michigan’s woods, and while that is nowhere near good enough for reconnaissance or patrolling, it does not appear that anybody here has training superior to my own paltry training and experience, in order to plan or execute this better. My plan is to not expose untrained personnel to hostile situations that I could avoid, if I can help it. This plan serves that purpose. I welcome better ideas. Y’all have any to lay out?”

Lucy looked at Emily, Emily looked at Lucy, and both shrugged. “Well, then, let’s do this one my way, and see how it turns out. If shooting breaks out, and you can do so safely, beat feet out of here, and wait for me in those woods we passed around a mile north of here. Hole up in the northeast corner. Once I disengage from whatever trouble is going ‘Bang!’, I’ll look for you there.”

Lucy observed, “So, a minute ago you told us to hide there, now you’re telling us to run. What is your plan?”

“I think that, if nobody seems likely to observe you, getting farther from the noise is a better plan. If you might be spotted, hunker down and spoil the day of anybody who appears to want to trifle with you.”

The women settled in, making hastily formed firing positions, and we stashed our packs about 10-15 meters behind them. I circled north, and skulked down the far side of the road, stopping and squinting every so often. When I came upon a spot that appeared to allow me to observe both ends of the bridge, while remaining hidden, I situated myself, and drew my binoculars from inside my shirt.

I looked for around 10 minutes, seeking movement or an errant light, or the glow from a cigarette smoked by some sentry. I saw nothing. Seeing nothing, I looked around, trying in the moonlight to identify any cause for concern. Several minutes revealed no worrisome signs. I began to pack up, preparatory to easing back to the women.

I was just about to pack it up, and see if coming up from the other side of the road might be helpful, when I heard some voices, perhaps 10 meters behind me, announce, “Stranger, do not move suddenly. We saw you move along the road, and then drop off into the woods. Stand up, slowly, and do not make any move toward your gun.”

“Shit, Shit, Shit!”, I thought, “How could I have missed them moving on me? Did the girls get safely away, or did these guys have a team moving in on them as well? How could I warn them?”

Slowly, I got my feet beneath me. I shakily came to my feet, feeling the weight of the Glock 19 in my shoulder holster. I couldn’t see my correspondents in the gloom, but the one talking, I was pretty sure, was 10 meters away, and roughly to my 4 o’clock, as I stood.

They waited for me to stop swaying, before Mr. 4 O’clock continued with his directions. “Hold your hands away from your sides, and step away from the rifle. Move to your left.” I started to do so, but, being a city boy, and moving in the dark, and pretty much exclusively focused on Mr. 4 O’clock, and his voice, and trying to dope out where the fuck he was, and where his partner, assuming that he had one, might be, well, my foot got caught in something, and over I went.

It sure sounded as if I had triggered a string of Claymores, because about the time I finished my first bounce, and started to roll away from Mr. 4 O’clock, well the shooting started. It did not sound, at first, like it was coming from where the voices hid in the bush. The initial several shots sounded like they came from my right, and seemingly were directed at the guys who had confronted me.

Well, it seemed like a good idea to make sure Mr. 4 O’clock did not feel neglected, so I dug out the Glock, braced myself on a couple of stones, and began to try to fill his world with flying lead.

It only seemed to take a day or so, but I’m sure it was several seconds later that my slide locked back, and there was no noise except for the ringing in my ears. I fumbled for my next mag, released the slide to chamber my next round, and got really cozy with my favorite patch of dirt. Off to my left, I heard a feminine whisper, “Mark? You alright?”

I replied, “Yeah, until their friends arrive,” and rolled to my left, trying to get to my rifle.

Another soft voice, different woman. “We saw two guys maneuvering on you, and you did not seem to see them. We came for you. When I saw the one guy raise what looked like a pistol, aiming it at you, well, it was over for him.”

“Thanks. Now, either of you looking for their backup to arrive?” Another roll, found my binocs. (stashed them in my shirt, patted around for the rifle).

“Yeah, Lucy is reloading her shotgun, and looking towards the road.”

I found my rifle, clicked it off safe, and patted around once more, making sure I left nothing behind. “Can you see the other guys?”

“The one who was talking, no. His partner, yes. He won’t be joining us.” Emily sounded grim.

“Can you move over to the left? I need to check the other guy, and then we need to unass this scene.”

“Let me top off ... There! I’m moving.”

She told me she was in position, and I swung to my right, and approached Mr. 4 O’clock. It appeared that he had taken something like half of my magazine, in his chest. Since he was not wearing body armor, that ended poorly for him. I rolled him over, and quickly frisked him. I pocketed his sidearm, and looked for a long gun. Surprised, I found none. I patted him down again, taking all the ammo I found, and dropped to ground.

“Emily! Check the other guy! I’ll cover you!”

I could see a shadow, slumped face first into a puddle. Emily’s shadow approached him, carefully set her rifle down, and turned him, patting him down. “He has no gun. Now what?”

“Whatever we are gonna do, let’s do it somewhere else. Gather Lucy, let’s get our packs, and move it to the rally point.”

We quick-walked to where I had told the women to wait, loaded up, and moved north. On the order of a mile north, we circled into the bushes, setting up a three person fire perimeter, with me responsible for traffic from the road, Emily facing sough-east, and Lucy facing north-east.

Ya know, time passes really slowly when you are awaiting bad things. I started to doubt my initial assessment that these guys were part of an organized bandit gang, and were detailed to be the flankers. If that were so, why were they not hardly armed at all? How on earth had not everybody in the township noticed the excitement going down, and why had nobody seemed to move at all to identify what was happening?

After several minutes of waiting, I fished my spent magazine from my pants, and rolled my pack to the ground beside me. I retrieved a box of ammo, and began to reload the mag. I heard Emily and Lucy roll over, and Emily crawled over. “What are you doing?” she hissed into my ear.

“Topping off my mag, during a lull in the action. What are you doing?”

“Refilling my shell holder, and telling Lucy to do the same!”

“Good girl! We’ll make you into light infantry, yet! Me as well, if I avoid stupidity like that which let Tweedledum and Tweedledee get the drop on me!”

She scrabbled back to her position, pausing to hold a whispered conversation with Lucy along the way. I finished loading the mag, secured it in my mag pouch, and stowed the ammo box. I looked around, saw the women had finished topping off, and were looking around, trying to keep a good eye on their arc of responsibility.

While the night animals moved about, and their muted symphony reassured me that there was no further trouble about, I pondered our journey. I wondered if the state highway would be any improvement over the clusterfuck we had just untangled ourselves from. The next bridge, to our west, was a couple of miles out of our way, and emptied into Alder Rapids. I really had no desire to wander through any town I could avoid, coupled with the possibility that our late correspondents might have had compatriots in town. If they were wondering about their homeboys, and had heard the commotion (how could they have missed it?), our arrival, armed and strangers, might not set the most congenial tone for introductions and safe passage. We had been lucky—extremely lucky—in our previous two firefights. I wondered how many more withdrawals from “The First Bank of Good Fortune” we could hope for, before we wound up overdrawn.

After an extended spell of analysis, I crept to my companions, and suggested we chat. I pointed out the foregoing insight about Alder Rapids, and the likelihood that taking the route we had initially planned upon, might result in an opposed crossing, and I was not up for casualties on our team. I thought that there was a bridge a couple of miles to our east, but had not reconnoitered it in any of my pre-apocalypse planning, and it, also, might wind up being guarded. I suggested that we consider packing our clothing and packs in garbage bags I snitched from Emily’s house, and had stowed in my pack, and float across the river west of the bridge. There was an old roadway, terminating on each bank in a sandy ramp, and we could potentially cross, skitter into the woods, dry off and redress, and be on our merry way, with no more drama.

There was considerable enthusiasm for an end to the excitement, and so we headed west, caught the (overgrown) roadway, and crept to the water’s edge.

Once there, I crept east, trying to see if our late neighbors could have any clue of our passage. Fortunately, this river had many ox-bows, curves, and dead ends. The woods effectively hid us from them, well, that as well as the half mile or more we were to the west. I returned to the women, told them my findings, and we settled in to pack for our wading adventure.

I distributed three garbage bags to each of us. I pulled out a coil of rope I had, and the packs went in first, then clothing. The rifles and one reload were held aside, and to be placed in their own bag, and everything else was secured in one bag, and then another placed over that.

Of course, this meant that we got naked. Emily caught me looking (Hey, I’m a guy. Looking at pretty women, particularly naked pretty women, it’s kinda what we do.) She flipped her hair in the moonlight, and posed, one knee crooked and hands on hips, as if displaying herself upon a stage. I savored the firm catenary of her breasts, the flare of her hips, the darker area, showing her trimmed pubic hair, as if a landing strip of love highlighting her sex. I rose to the occasion, throbbing in anticipation of delights that were not to be mine tonight.

Lucy, standing off just a bit, stood from securing her pack, and “whoofed!” a wisp of hair from her face. I turned to her, and she, as well, shot a pose. Her blond hair, longer than Emily’s, curved over one shoulder, teasing, not quite reaching one breast. Her hips curved in to her narrow, strong appearing waist. I saw no shadow of pubic hair guarding her sex. Lucy twisted just a bit, to and fro, as if flirtatiously. She grinned, just a little, and asked, “Doesn’t your not-so-little friend ever pay attention to his circumstances? We just killed two guys, who appeared to be about to shoot you, and now we’re gonna take an unplanned swim, just to be sure to avoid their friends. And, you, YOU! have a hard on!” She turned to Emily. “Arrgh! Men!”

Emily shook her head. “Yeah, but this particular man has led us to relative safety, and went ahead alone into unknown danger so we could stay behind. Despite the fact that we saved his ass, I do think he is allowed just a little man-piggery. Well, with me, he’s allowed a whole bunch! Just, not right now.”

Turning to me, Emily asked, “We ready to go?”

I nodded. “Yep. Just like a road crossing, I’ll go first, and, once I’m on the other side and my rifle is unbagged, you guys bag up your long guns, and join me. Here, hold this rope so that you can reel me in if I get into trouble. Once I’m across, I can return the favor for you.”

I tied a bowline loop in each end, and waded into the water. I held onto the bags carefully, unwilling to see my weapon or my pack float off downriver. About half way, I found the bottom to be deeper than I could walk, and I breast-stroked my way to the shallows. I made it to shore, carried my bindle into the shadows, and unlimbered my rifle.

I whistled, briefly, and the line responded with two tugs. I saw the shadows of the women creeping to the water’s edge, and quiet splashes as they entered. They moved towards the center of the river, and then, as I took in slack, they started to move more slowly, swimming now as I had been. Soon, they started to rise, as if river nymphs, approaching me. Water ran from their hair, glistening in the moonlight, dripped from their breasts, and ran in rivulets down their taut bellies. Little Mark stood up a little straighter, so he could get a better view of the beauties approaching us, but I had to keep alert, looking for evidence our passing had been noticed.

We gathered in the brush, and opened our bags. I took a change of clothing out, and handed my second shirt to Emily, the sweats to Lucy, and took the tee shirt for myself. We dried in a bit of a hurry. The river was none too warm, and the chill spring air was no friend of those seeking to avoid hypothermia.

I dressed first, and looked about, to detect trouble earlier rather than later. That said, I looked back from time to time. (who am I kidding? I ogled the women and occasionally looked about!) Once all the noonies had been covered, and the breasts safely tucked away into brassieres and blouses, well, I got more attentive. We packed up, armed up, and set out.

We swung south, and, once we started to get into marshy ground, swung east. This put us onto the roadway, eventually, and we paused there to look around.

We saw and heard nothing, and crept south. With the time we had lost in our “Close Encounter of the Sixth Kind”, and detouring around the ambush site, well, holding my wife today was not gonna happen. As we slipped along, creeping past the occasional homestead, and leapfrogged across the intersections we encountered, I considered where we might hole up for an additional day.

The landscape was beginning to look more familiar, and it occurred to me that my rifle club was north of town, and had a well and a pit toilet. The Scouts camped there from time to time, and it might be a nicer place to hole up than the leaf piles that had been our bivouac sites so far.

I took us east along McClellan Road, and, at one of our listening holds, shared my plan with my companions. They were cautiously enthusiastic. We cleared that intersection, and moseyed down the roadside. As we paused, again, at the next intersection, Lucy asked what I thought the likelihood was we would meet anyone at the club.

“I don’t know. A couple of the members live nearby, but other than lunatics such as ourselves, and highwaymen, I suspect sensible folks are at home. As they ought to be. My bet is that we will be alone, and undisturbed. Upshot? I am planning on a boring, restful day in the woods. At long fucking last.”