Chapter 65

STILL SATURDAY MORNING:

Helen walked into the General's suite, accompanied by his wives. Seating themselves quietly, they waited for the machine to finish with Arlene. As the hood was removed, Arlene blinked and looked around, "What happened? I thought we were ready to go."

Jeff chuckled. "It's done, Baby."

"But ... but, he just put the hood on my head..."

"Ten minutes ago," Jeff injected.

"Well, I surely don't feel any different. Are you sure it was ten minutes? Are you sure it took?"

It was Whitworth's turn to chuckle. "You won't notice a thing unless you try to discuss something you're not supposed to with someone other than family."

Ellen spoke up. "We just talked to the contractor, uh, Dave. He said the crew is finished with the range and he wants Colonel Matthews to come and shoot for the construction people."

Jeff stood. "We'll have Diana and Arlene shoot for them." Turning to his wives, "You two bring your weapons and a few loaded magazines. Let's show them what you can do."

Diana looked at Jeff, then frowning a little, motioned to her daughter. "We'll meet you there," she said to her husband.

Jeff had told Dave to "do it up right," for the indoor range, and he had. The entire range was sound insulated from the rest of the retreat. Each shooting station was separated from the next one with a six-foot long partition of thick metal that would easily stop any handgun round. Two of the stations had the latest model chronograph for any reloaders who wanted to check the velocity of their rounds. Ear and eye protection was within easy reach on a shelf. There were bins for targets and cleaning supplies, a swing-out table and an arm that moved down for a shooting rest. Each station even had a tiny refrigerator that would hold a few drinks to be kept cold. A spotting scope was mounted on a swing-out arm, and of course, there were the controls that operated the equipment which ran the targets out to any distance up to fifty yards. There was an area in the back for cleaning weapons, complete with compressed air. The list went on with everything Dave could find for an indoor range, all laid out in perfect order. Separate to the handgun range, but paralleling it, was a fifty-yard bow range, also.

Just before the others had gotten there, Dave and Evie had walked the handgun range, as they had already done many times while it was being built. The crew foreman stood grinning, knowing they wouldn't find anything wrong.

"Looks like we need to call Jeff," Dave had told him.

"We really want to watch him shoot. We've seen a little of his shooting, but not much. We've heard he's something else."

Dave chuckled. "That, my friend, he truly is. Trouble is getting him to do it in front of anyone."

"But Dave, we've worked our asses off to make this range perfect."

Dave looked at his foreman. "You have a point. Hang on a few minutes. Let me go talk to him."

A little later, the indoor range had gained a few people — as in everyone in the building. The foreman walked up to Jeff. "Sir, would you shoot for us? We've heard a lot about your shooting."

"Oh, I think you had rather see Diana and Arlene shoot. They're..."

Diana stepped up beside her husband, grabbed his neck and pulled him down so she could whisper into his ear. "They want to see you shoot. I'm a good shot, but no one is in your class, and you know it. Now go shoot for them."

Arlene handed Jeff his Colt .45 auto, and Joyce, grinning from ear to ear, handed him five loaded magazines.

Jeff looked around him, noticing that his wives and the others were putting on earphones. Turning to the construction crew, he almost told them to put their fingers in their ears, but they were already donning ear protection, too.

"We brought our own," the foreman said, leading Jeff to realize that this was a planned thing.

"Okay," Jeff said, "but everybody keep them on after I say the line is hot, and until I say the line is clear. The .45 will make a hell of a lot of racket inside this enclosed area."

While Jeff was talking, Dave had mounted a silhouette target and hit the button to run the target and frame downrange. "How far?"

"Fifty yards," Jeff answered.

"With a pistol?" one of the crew quietly said.

But Jeff had heard him. "Yeah, nothing new about that. Back when there were slow-fire revolver competitions, fifty yard free hand competitions were common. Handguns are accurate at that distance and beyond. It's human error that scatters the rounds around," he joked.

"The line is hot!" Jeff called out, then fired two magazines at the target. After putting the weapon on the shooting table, he secured the line. When the target was brought back by the machine, everyone gathered around to admire the tight, perhaps six-inch pattern in the center of the target.

The crew was suitably impressed but Whitworth stood back for a moment, then in a loud voice said, "Matthews, if you're through screwing around, shoot the damn target."

"But..."

"I can do nearly that good. Now shoot the damn target. Show these hardworking people who built you this beautiful range what you can do."

A grinning Diana snapped another target to the frame and slapped the button to engage the machinery that ran the target back to its position at the fifty-yard line. "You're not going to get off that easily," she said as she walked by. "Show them what a Prime can do."

"The line is hot," he called, loudly. Slipping a magazine into the weapon, he pulled the slide back and let it go to chamber a round. Looking around him one last time, he put the pistol into his belt in the small of his back, faced the target — and fired. No one was sure they saw him draw, even from the small of his back. Few could count the rounds as the .45 spit them out in a continuous roar. He had changed magazines and commenced firing the second magazine, before the first magazine hit the mat on the floor. He did the same for the next magazine. When the weapon was empty, he safed it and set it on the shelf to cool down.

No one said a word. Instead, everyone stood looking down range as the machine quickly ran the target back to the station. Jeff had drawn a smiley face on the head of the silhouette with the .45 rounds, the eyes, nose and mouth perfectly positioned, and also destroyed the tiny x in the middle of the target. It was obvious that more than one bullet had gone through the area, but there was no way to tell how many. No one there doubted that the bullets had gone through the fifty-cent size hole though, as they saw the rounds repeatedly slamming into the falls in a very small area behind the target.

"Shit," the crew foreman said. Something he would never at any other time have said with Diana standing next to him.

Not bothering to hide a smirk, Whitworth gathered up his women and headed for the stairs.

Jennie and Melissa policed up Jeff's brass as the crew had a fit, all of them trying to talk to Jeff at the same time.

"I guess it works," the foreman said, laughing, then turned to shut down the falls.

"Well done, gentlemen," Jeff said to them. "I can barely smell the gunpowder, and even that small amount went away quickly." No one there had smelled that much, but the Prime's senses were an order of magnitude more sensitive.

Whitworth resumed processing everyone through his machine. Arlene had taken over the job of staging, freeing her mother from the task. Diana had impatiently waited as Jeff cleaned his .45, then grabbing his hand, had dragged him toward the bedroom.

"What gives, Babe?" Jeff asked, laughing and pulling her to him as they walked down the hall. "Not that I'm not flattered, but..."

"The general said he wants to talk to everyone tonight. I know what that will mean to my sister-wives — they'll try to fuck you to death afterward."

Jeff stared down at her as she plastered herself to his side; he, not really understanding what she meant. Diana tightened her arm around him, pushing the side of her breast into him. "They're all going to be just like me — horny as heck."

"But Baby, so they find out about the ship and the portal? So what? I don't see why..."

Diana pushed the door of their suite open as they got there. "Don't say I didn't warn you. And do not succumb to your daughter's wishes."

"What wishes?" Jeff said as they went on into the bedroom.

"Hers, and all your younger wives' wishes as well."

Jeff stopped to look at her as she stripped off her shoes, top, shorts and panties. "Heck, that probably goes for all of us," she added. "Make sure they don't somehow figure out how to ask Little One to make them fertile, and come to think of it, that probably applies to all your wives."

Jeff sat on the bed to slip his shoes and socks off. Standing, he took off his shirt, then dropped his pants and shorts.

"Why would they do that? They all know we're going to have kids, just not right now. Things need to be more settled, more secure."

"Because, Dummy," she said, teasing, as she walked over to him holding her breasts and squeezing her squirting nipples, "when the General tells them about the things you have done, they're going to be just like me. They will want you to... breed them, just like I do. I told you I was hot. They will be too. They will all want to have your child — your children. We all want to, anyway, but this will make everyone want to right now. It surely did me. Now suck my milk and cram that beautiful cock up me," she finished, pushing him back on the bed and straddling him. "I want your sperm in me."

HOSPITAL IN FLORIDA, AFTER LUNCH

"It's for you," Carla said as she handed the phone to Fred.

"Lieutenant Wilson?" Dodson asked, formally.

"Well, used to be," Fred chuckled. "What's up, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I, uh, don't know how to tell you this, but after I talked to Betty Harris, (Doctor Harris's ex-wife) she loaded her stuff in her SUV and headed this way. She drove all night, checked into the Holiday Inn, took a nap, and then called me. She's ready any time you are."

Fred thought for a second. "Okay, tell her to meet me at our RV in the back parking lot in thirty minutes. For propriety's sake, I'll bring Carla with me. But you tell Betty I am not playing games. She had better come expecting to tell me the truth, and as they say in court, nothing but the truth. If she lies even once to me, no matter how minor she thinks the lie is, I'll kick her ass out of the RV and be done with her. I'm not going to fuck over Doc with her lies."

"I told her that on the phone, and I'll go by the motel right now and deliver the message personally. I don't want her back with Doc if she's lying, either. We'll meet you at the RV. Her motel is just down the street."

Fred hung the phone up and looked at Carla. "Would you please go with me to the RV while I interview her? I don't know this woman, and have long since learned to never interview a woman alone unless I have a camera going, or have a witness."

Fred and Carla had just gotten to the RV when a pickup rolled up with Dodson and his wife in it. Right behind them was a small SUV. The woman in the SUV waited for a moment while Dodson and his wife got out and the introductions were made. Shortly, the petite brunette got out of the SUV and approached them. Dodson introduced Betty Harris to Carla and Fred. Shortly, they were all seated in the RV's living room.

Fred was hesitant about Dodson and his wife being present, but Betty, apparently realizing, spoke up. "I'm here to get my husband back. Whatever happened that day, and for whatever reason, I was a fool for running. I was scared, embarrassed, confused and probably more besides. When that fool attacked my husband, Dan just seemed to ... explode. I had never seen him act like that. I panicked and ran. I'm not panicked now. I'll do whatever it takes to get him back."