Chapter 35

Sheila had the soul of a cavalry commander and lived the warrior’s code of old. Feed your horses, your troops, and yourself in that order. Her declaration of a banquet of gratitude was a brazen departure from the typical bullshit command response to a crisis which was: when in doubt, run in circles, scream, and shout.

With the generous help of brandy and buds, Martha’s magnificent meal of Thanksgiving brought everyone, myself included, back from the brink.

“Hop in.”

Sheila’s mellow laughter echoing from the walls of the cavern’s chamber ended in a splash of bubbles as her nude body submerged beneath the dark, steaming waters of the hot spring’s calm lagoon.

“Wolfie, are you coming in?” StarShine invited.

She unbuckled her belt and held on to my arm for balance as I played fence post while she stepped out of a puddle of faded blue jeans. She continued to hold on to me as she stripped naked and started to tug at my belt. Nudity at a distance is scenery; up close and personal, it becomes sensual. I took a step backward.

Ever since I’d rescued Star from her stupor, she had become a living shadow. She clung to me while we gathered beverage and weed. At dinner, she huddled next to me and hardly ate a thing. Finally, I played daddy and practically had to spoon-feed her. The effort was worth it. By the end of supper, she was sitting up and taking notes.

“Yeah, Sky! Come on in, I need your assistance,” the commander called to me as she rose, bare and bronze, from water as black as liquid night and beckoned me to her side. Her wet skin reflected the sparks of distant work lights like a sapphire in the moonlight. She was a beautiful siren out of Greek mythology.

Being the coward I am, I undressed on the run as I raced to obey my boss’s command — business before pleasure.

“Mister Wolf and I have matters to attend to,” Sheila advised StarShine as she guided me toward the dark recesses of a rock formation. A shadow cave in a shadowed realm. “Please provide us with the privacy we require.”

“Thanks,” I growled in my best imitation of Howard the Duck and splashed my saggy ass across the pool behind my boss. I had a kinda kinship for Howard. Although I was too cheap ever to buy a copy, I loved the Marvel Comic Book tagline, “Trapped in a world he never made.” I knew the feeling. I had been in Vietnam. Quack!

A few giggles from the shoreline were proof my performance had not gone unnoticed.

As we reached an area obscured from view, Sheila gave me a surprising gravity assist as, like a kung-fu ballet dancer, her bare leg swept my feet out from under me, and she guided me to splashdown as she plopped into the warm water next to me.

“Ooof! What is your pleasure?” I grunted and shuddered at my poor choice of words.

“No touchy-feely,” Sheila said as her hand reached into my lap and wrapped her fingers around my privates. “We’ve got real business at hand,” she said with a grim smile as she squeezed Harvey and gave him a shake before letting go.

What an odd way to seal a deal. I grabbed her crotch and gave her a squeeze and wiggle.

“Deal?” I said as I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in a surprised gasp as she blushed. “Deal,” she lightly slapped my face and moved my hand away.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about. After the banquet, buds, brandy, and a bath, I think the Sisterhood will slumber for the next six hours or so.” She glanced at the luminous dial on her self-winding wristwatch.

“I told Martha we’d use the feast as an excuse to take a dip in the hot springs to decompress and relax. The sweet combo of cannabis buds and brandy sure helped. The Sisterhood needs a good night’s sleep,” Sheila said while she splashed steaming water over her bare chest. “When the crew wakes up, we’ll need a plan on the table. Power nap for ten minutes, then we’ll talk.”

Sheila stretched her arms wide, and she yawned before settling her tanned body into the dark, steaming waters. Ever resourceful, she used a rounded rock as an improvised pillow and closed her eyes. Little rest for the weary and none for the wicked.

“What the heck is a fucking power nap?”

I mused to myself with an ironic grin; maybe sounds like Zen at gunpoint: an obvious oxymoron. Despite myself, I perchance to dream, as the poets would say. On Morpheus’ scale from one-to-ten, I managed to dream in the negative numbers as I dreamt the entire SkyFire experience was merely a dream Darlene and I had while sleeping together in a beautiful warm bed.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Up and at ‘em, duty calls,” an annoying voice in my ear whispered as a torrent of warm water splashed in my face and up my nose.

“Wow!” I sputtered as I pushed myself upright and turned off the waterboard alarm clock. “Take it easy,” I growled. “I hate getting woke up with water, I ain’t-a goddamn lily!”

“It’s a free adrenalin boost, better than caffeine,” she said as she gave me a nasty smirk.

“Careful, boss. Turnabout is fair play.”

I wiped my face and dried my hair with my hands as I climbed to my feet and splashed toward my clothes on the shore. I was pissed with a wave of anger driven more by fear than an annoyance.

The leader’s leisurely stroll gave me time to reset my external mask to business. I’d lick my wounds later. We were now in the broken world of the looking glass at the bottom of a deep doomsday rabbit hole. The first order of business was survey, inventory, and repair as we assembled resources and planned for the future.

“Sorry about that, Sky,” Sheila apologized as I dried my hair with my undershirt. “I couldn’t resist, you looked too peaceful,” she said as she smoothed my hair with her hand.

“It’s okay; I was a fucked-up dream.”

She was sending mixed signals of authority and arousal, or at least availability. Sheila was trying to be kind, almost like a friend.

“What’s the plan?” I asked as I stuffed my junk in my shorts, zipped up my jeans, and awaited instructions.

“Give me a sec to air dry,” Sheila shook herself like a cat and squeegeed water droplets from her arms and legs with her hands.

“Here, allow me,” I said as I towel dried her hair with my T-shirt. “How are you doing?” I touched her bare arm with my hand and searched her eyes for the answer.

“Hanging in there. Thanks,” Sheila replied and covered my hand with hers’s and gently squeezed my fingers. “I’m good. How ya doing, old man?” she teased with a thin smile.

The corners of her mouth bent down as she studied my face and took the measure of my mind. The concern shining in her eyes could have been that of a mother or a lover. Whatever it was, it created within me a connection of affection. She cared for me.

“I’m okay. It is what it is.” I returned her gaze with a smile of my own and hugged her arm with my hand. We were good.

“In that case, let’s go topside and see what’s cooking,” she said as she gathered her clothes and began to dress.

“I hope you’re speaking metaphysically and not literally.”

I chuckled and glanced upward at the vaulted ceiling of our underground cavern.

“No shit,” Sheila laughed.

Even though the sunrise was still several hours away, the sky above Liberty Mountain glowed with the colors of a false dawn.

“Let’s see if we can restore the lights.”

She flipped open the cover to the electrical panel and examined the rows of circuit breakers with the beam of her tac-light. The solar storm’s EMP had tripped every safety switch. After a moment of study, she reset the breaker for the solar array’s battery supply.