Chapter 42

Preparations for movie night began with the kneading of dough for the first loaf of bread to be baked at Scirewood in recent memory. Not the loaf they would eat that night, but a test loaf for Rachel to see if she remembered how to make it. The dough didn’t result in an edible loaf, however, but it wasn’t because she got the recipe wrong.

The first indication that their level of industrialization had slipped backwards several notches came an hour earlier, when girls complained about cold water in the showers. Of course, it was assumed to be an electrical issue, and Mike began inspecting breakers and connections, but everything was found to be in order. A check of the tankless water heaters found them to be functioning flawlessly. At least, electrically.

Then Rachel turned the knob on the oven to preheat it. When she held the lighter over the burner, nothing happened. No FWHOOM! of igniting natural gas. She spun the knob back and forth a few times, and held the lighter’s flame to the burner for several seconds, but it remained unlit.

The flow of natural gas to the foothills of western North Carolina had finally stopped.

This jarring wakeup call brought into sharp focus something else the residents of Scirewood had noticed in recent days, but consciously chose to put out of their minds. The water pressure had steadily continued to decrease, to the point where the word ‘shower’ had lost its meaning. Everyone now took drizzles.

“What do we do now?” Theresa asked

The emergency meeting of the original charette leadership had been called to answer that very question.

“I’m less concerned about cold showers and uncooked bread dough right now, to be honest,” Mike said. “My biggest immediate concern is drinking water. We can’t boil it on the stove anymore.”

“Why not just use wood?” Eric asked. “That’s how we do it on the trail.”

Mike pointed at him. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re going to have to do for now. Only it’s been raining for the past couple days, so everything’s wet.”

“That ain’t no problem, Mike,” Charmagne said. “We can demo a house if we need dry wood.”

“That a great idea,” he said, resisting the urge to squeeze her ass cheek. “Okay, so the next question is where to burn it? Under the car port is probably the best option right now. At least until the rain stops. But we’re going to want to come up with a permanent, long-term solution.”

“Speaking of water,” Marcus said, “how much longer do you think we have before that stops flowing too?”

“Hard to say,” Mike said. “It could stop today, for all we know. I’m actually less concerned about that right now, though, since Morgan Creek and two of its tributaries run right through the middle of the property, so we’re not dying of thirst anytime soon.”

“What about after it freezes?” Rachel asked.

Mike hadn’t thought about that. He arrived at Scirewood in early April. He’d never seen the area during the winter.

“Shit. Good point.” He thought it over. “Let’s make that a mid-term question to answer next, and focus on just the next couple days. Right now, we’ve got drinking water sorted. What else are we losing with the gas?”

“Hot showers,” everyone said at once.

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Mike laughed. “I’ll work on that. I promise. Other than that, though. What about cooking? Anything in our food supplies that requires cooking to make it safe?”

Theresa shook her head. “No. Unappetizing? Sure. But not unsafe. We specifically chose those items under the assumption we might not have access to fire. We’re good.”

Mike nodded. That made him feel a lot better. Other than the universally-desired creature comfort of hot showers, they really wouldn’t suffer too greatly by losing the gas. They just needed a vessel to burn the wood in. Then he snapped his fingers and turned to Charmagne.

“Hey, remember that mountain home we got the solar panels from? They had a wood-burning stove in there. A big one. We should grab that.”

“Consider it done,” she said.

Mike nodded his head. This wasn’t so bad. He felt confident they’d sort out the winter water issue. People had been living in the area for millennia. It was a solved problem. They just needed to learn what that solution was. He addressed the group.

“Looks like our movie night just became a cook out.”

One night with those judgmental, moralizing, self-righteous harpies was all it took. Something had to be done.

Endora was prepared to carry on in front of them as if nothing had changed, but Grace and the two other girls were shamed into keeping their clothes on and their knees together. It was maddening. The weeks of planning, sacrifice, and hard work she’d put into assembling her harem had been undone in a single day.

This is war, she fumed as she stomped down the stairs in her most revealing top and shortest cutoffs yet, her breasts and the bottoms of her exposed cheeks bouncing with every step. Despite the fact that no one had to listen to her, Linda still held great sway over the students of Scirewood. Former students, she reminded herself. Deference to authority had been beaten into their skulls from birth, and Linda was as authoritarian as they came.

Endora couldn’t fight this war alone, though. She needed allies. Grace, Abby, and Amelia were too frightened of Linda to stand up for themselves. Endora needed someone tough. A girl who wouldn’t take shit from Linda. A leader who others would follow.

“You back for round two, you fucking dyke cunt? Let’s go!”

Endora held up her hands. “I’m not here to fight you. I came to talk.”

Alexis glared at her, cuts and bruises marring her beautiful face. “Why the fuck should I talk to you?” she asked, then looked her up and down. “Slut.”

“Listen, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but I think we have a bigger enemy that we both hate even more than we hate each other.

“Doubtful. Who?”

“Linda.”

Alexis hardened her expression.

“Fucking Linda,” they both muttered at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise.

“What about her?” Alexis asked, intrigued.

“She’s standing in the way of what we both want most.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sex.”

Alexis gagged and tried to shut the door, but Endora pushed back.

“Wait! Just hear me out. Please.” Alexis paused, then pulled open the door. “I know you feel betrayed by Grace, but I like her. A lot. And I want to be with her. But I can’t. Not with Linda cunt blocking me at every turn.”

“Good! I’m glad! What the fuck makes you think I’d give a shit, anyway?”

“Because she’s cunt blocking you too.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

“I’m talking about Mike. You’re in love with him.”

Alexis stared at her. “How...?”

“I was there that day, remember? The day of the star. The day you pushed me into the pond. I heard what you told the others. You lied about fucking Mike. About being a couple.”

Her guilt-ridden expression quickly morphed into indignation. “I didn’t lie.”

“Yes you did. You never slept with him. And you also know about those videos. You’ve watched them.” Endora smirked at her shocked reaction. “The Artificer.”

Alexis gasped. “DaddyLush...”

“Daedalus.”

“What?”

“Never mind. The bottom line is, you’re never going to be with him as long as Linda’s standing in your way.”

It was Alexis’s turn to smirk. “Guess again, bitch. I already have an in with him, and we’re going to be together soon.”

“Really,” Endora said, her voice thick with skepticism. “When?”

“Soon.”

Endora scoffed and shook her head. “Never going to happen.”

“Well, you’re wrong, because she assured me it would.”

“Who?”

“Staff Sergeant Pollard.”

“Charmagne?” Endora snorted. “How long has she been feeding you that line?”

Alexis narrowed her eyes. “The Staff Sergeant wouldn’t lie. It’s just taking a little longer than expected. That’s all.”

“Uh huh, sure. Did she also tell you she’s been fucking him for weeks?”

The color drained from Alexis’s face. “Y-you’re lying,” she said in a shaky voice, but Endora shook her head.

“I don’t lie. I watched them fuck in Leavitt Hall, a couple days after she got here,” Endora said, and Alexis let out a tiny squeak. “He sleeps over at her house almost every night. Ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

Alexis let her hand slip off the door knob and she turned her head, blinking rapidly. Endora put her hand on her shoulder.

“I have a plan. A plan to get both of us what we want most. But I need your help.”

Emmett Caldwell unfolded the large, waterproof, topographical hiking map and smoothed it out on top of the dining room table. The boys crowded around to inspect the multitude of markings and notations made in colored grease pencil. Dotted lines, arrows, circles, and boxes. Emmett stabbed a red square near the center of the map with his thick finger.

“The school’s right here, in Copper Cove. Right where these two tributaries flow into Morgan Creek. It’s surrounded by mountains on three sides, here, here, and here.

“Now, six soldiers rolled into town that day. Assuming eight hour shifts, that means they only have enough personnel to man one observation post. I’m guessing it’s here. Fitzhugh Mountain. It’s the closest one to the school, and a steep, thousand foot climb on either side. There’s also a road that leads to the peak, coming up from the other side. If they’re smart, they probably have that road rigged all the way up with IEDs, and every easy approach to their observation post is probably boobytrapped. A machine gun nest up there could reach out and touch any part of this cove with no problem.

“Murphy Hill road makes a turn right here, underneath the interstate, and becomes Morgan Creek Road. That’s the only road leading in or out of the cove. Now, the approach to the school from that road is visible from the mountaintop, so they’ll see anyone trying to drive up it, and they’ll know they ignored that warning sign, so they’re just going to light up whoever they see.

“There’s a few hunting trails that crisscross the vales in this area, and a small pass leading into the cove right here, but you’re going to be exposed long before you get to the school. It’s going to be a nightmare getting in there undetected, and once the leaves drop, forget it. I don’t think we have any shot at this until at least Spring.”

“What if they’re not there in the Spring?” Nelson Petty asked.

Harlan put on his reading glasses and opened up a spiral-bound notebook. “Looks like they provisioned for the long-haul. We spotted them running a tractor-trailer up and down the interstate with a Humvee escort. Not sure what they were hauling, but it’s a good bet it was food. They were driving north, from Asheville, so could’ve been the train yard, or maybe a distribution center somewhere near there.”

“Assuming it was food,” Nelson said.

“Assuming it was food,” Harlan agreed. “We spotted them four times, so that’s at least four containers of provisions. Average interval between trips was a little over two hours, so, wherever they went, it must have been within thirty or forty miles of that school.”

“How much food is that?” Benny the Cook asked.

“A shit ton,” Harlan said. “Figure maybe thirty-thousand pounds of food per container, times four. Sixty tons maybe?”

“Holy shit, that’s a lot of ass!” Blackjack shouted.

“A shit ton of ass,” Emmett agreed.

“How many people do you think are up there?” Nelson wondered. “Besides the six soldiers?”

“There was supposedly sixty little pieces of ass up there before the bomb,” Emmett said.

“Sixty pieces of tight, young ass,” Blackjack said wistfully. “Can you even imagine?”

“Well, you have to figure a bunch of them are probably dead from radiation exposure, so let’s call it twenty or thirty. But that’s still a lot. Now, that bomb was detonated on a Sunday, which means most of the teachers probably weren’t even there at the time. Figure two or three to keep an eye on those girls over the weekend. Supposedly, some pharmacist from town went up there as well, and took all the medicine with her. They might even have a nurse up there too, since it’s a boarding school. So, thirty pieces of ass, plus six soldiers, call it three teachers, a pharmacist, and a nurse. Forty people, give or take?”

“Sixty tons of food for forty people,” Benny said, his voice tinged with awe. Then he started counting his fingers. “That’s, like...”

“One and a half tons per person,” Big Jay said with his beefy arms crossed over his chest.

“How long do you think that’ll last them?” Blackjack wondered.

“Years,” Emmett said. “Years. They’re not going anywhere. They’re tucking in for the winter.”

“So we’re just going to wait five or six months?” Nelson asked.

“We don’t have any choice,” Emmett said. “They’re too well armed, and there’s too many of them. We need time to plan, and we need to start recruiting more people.”

“We also need intel,” Harlan pointed out.

“Exactly. That’s why she’s here,” Emmett said.

He waved over a young woman hovering in the living room. She came to him and he put his arm around her, giving her a tender kiss on the lips.

“This is Ellie, Ellie, these are the boys. Ellie’s one of my best customers. Aren’t you, baby?”

She put her hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Ellie’s got two of the cutest little kids you’ve ever seen. The mouth on that little Jessica. Let me tell you.”

The rumble of laughter around the table made Ellie turn her head away and close her eyes. Emmett gave her waist a little squeeze.

“But Jess and little Bobby are going to retire soon, aren’t they, baby?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve offered her a special, lifetime discount, as long as she does something for us. We’re going to insert her into the cove, and have her make contact with the people at that school. She’s going to be our eyes and ears on the ground. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you eaten today, baby?” he asked her, and she shook her head. “Here, why don’t you earn yourself a nice, hot meal to take back home to the kids. I’m sure they’re starving.”

He unzipped himself and pushed her gently to her knees, then addressed the boys.

“By the time Christmas rolls around, we’re going to know everything there is to know about their defenses. Right down to the last bullet.”

Mike sat on a stool at the assembly table and pored over Michelle’s sketches and notes while she hovered over his shoulder, antsy and boiling over with nervous energy.

“I can feel your breath on me,” he said. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

She scraped a stool across the concrete floor until in nearly touched his, then hopped up onto it. Close enough that she could smell him. He slowly turned his head to look at her.

“Would you prefer to sit on my lap while I do this?”

Her eyes popped wide open. “Really? Would it help?” she asked, lifting her butt off the stool.

“No. Give me some room, will you? And try to relax. You’re making me nervous.”

After a few minutes, he stacked and neatened the sheets, and set them down, steepling his fingers over them. “Ambitious is the first word that comes to mind.”

“Feasible?”

He sifted through the papers in front of him and picked one up, turning it to face her. “What’s with the foot thing?”

She ripped it out of his hand and crumpled it up, tossing it over her shoulder. “That shouldn’t have been in there.”

He sighed and massaged his temples. “You’re overthinking this, Michelle. This...,” he gestured to the pile of papers, then picked up the top sheet titled MUST HAVES. “This is way overengineered if your only goal is to achieve this. This is simple. We can do this with what’s in this shop.”

“Actually,” she said, shifting in her seat, “I was meaning to ask you about that. Where are we going to get ... you know ... dildos?”

She thought about mentioning Linda’s old dildo that Endora had, but decided to leave that out of the discussion. For now. Mike lifted one of his dark eyebrows, then slid from the stool and approached a large tool chest, retrieving a pair of metal sheers and a prybar from one of the drawers.

“Come with me,” he said. “I want to show you something.” She followed him into the storage room. “Watch your step.”

They picked their way through the pile of debris in the middle of the room, to where a wooden crate sat alone in the corner. It was large. Raiders of the Lost Ark large. Three foot by six foot by three feet tall.

“Hold up that lantern,” he said.

With a twanging snap, he began to cut through the heavy, black steel bands securing the box. Then he levered the prybar underneath the corner of the lid, and slowly worked his way around the perimeter. When it was free of the box, he lifted it off and set it aside.

A thin sheet of white foam, similar to what might be used to protect a flat panel television, covered a large, dark object underneath. Mike peeled it back to reveal a finely sculpted piece of polished equipment that gleamed in the dim light. It reminded Michelle of the bike from TRON, but without the wheels. The shiny resin exterior was molded in sleek carbon fiber, with a highly contoured black leather bench or seat of some kind on top. She noted several large, threaded inserts at various locations around the ... device? Attachment points for something, but what?

Mike stood back and crossed his arms, smiling and nodding proudly. “I call it the Bull.”

“What is that?” Michelle asked, her astonished voice filled with wonder.

“My magnum opus. The finest machine I ever designed and built.”

“That thing’s a machine?” Michelle asked incredulously, waving her hand at it. “Where are all the-the-the rods and the linkages and the gears and stuff?”

He peered at her from the corner of his eye and scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Those were mere prototypes. Proofs of concept. Toys. This thing,” he said, gesturing to the masterpiece in the crate, “is state of the art. Electronically controlled. Pneumatically driven. It is, without a doubt, the most refined, most sophisticated fucking machine on the planet.”