Chapter 3

As we drove south, Garcia taught Smiley and Jamaal the basics of aiming and firing the weapons we had with us. Smiley, for some reason, was a whiz on the machine gun. He learned very quickly how to pick his targets and let the weapon's natural action lead the bullets into what he was aiming at, instead of starting off with the target in his sights and having his shots drift wide, as Jamaal was prone to do. With the M16, both got to where they could hit what they aimed at consistently, but neither, in those first days, got the hang of the handguns. Crystal, on the other hand, was a crack shot with almost any single shot weapon, but put it on automatic and she couldn't hold it on target.

Ruth and Cora were afraid of the guns, so Ramon patiently went about familiarizing them with the weapons and their safe handling before he even allowed them to fire a shot.

I also took the opportunity of preparing our party for a sojourn in the desert at every chance I got. We went over clothing, hydration, plant and animal life, and other basic survival skills.

As we progressed southeastward, Garcia started taking the Hummvee to scout potential sources of supplies while the truck continued along the planned route, staying mostly in the valley between US 99 and I-5.

Southwest of Fresno, we came upon a ranch with several horses, and managed to find bridles, saddles, and so forth in one of the ranch buildings. It was no trick getting the horses to come to us. They were healthy enough, from grazing, but seemed to miss human companionship. Ruth had some experience with horses and talked the others through making rope halters and slipping them over the animal's heads so they could be lead.

From then on, Ruth made a habit of riding for a few hours each day, and Crystal soon joined her. Garcia, faced with having the girls out of his sight did two things. He stepped up Ruth's training, and had her teach him to ride.

In a couple of days we came to the suburbs of Bakersfield. With the truck in front, clearing the way, we skirted the suburbs north and east of town then started climbing the pass on Highway 58. Thankfully, not many drivers had died on that road and we made pretty good time over the mountains headed for Barstow.

As we climbed out of the valley, we met a guy wearing a backpack who was headed the other way. I stopped the truck, and told the girls to stay out of sight. Garcia and his ever-present shotgun came forward to wait with me beside the cab, leaving Jamaal and Smiley in the bed of the truck with Crystal, each with orders to watch a different quadrant of our surroundings.

"Hi!" the sandy-haired hiker said when he was close enough. "Pleasant day for a hike, don't you think?"

"Nicer day for a drive," I answered, my eyes darting back and forth to see if there was anyone with him, trying to use his approach as cover to sneak up on us. California is a strange and diverse state, but the casualness of this guy's approach seemed strange even for California.

"Name's Dryer," he said, extending a hand to be shaken. "Matt Dryer."

I nodded, but ignored the hand, still scanning our surroundings.

"Gavin Thompson. How you doin' Matt?" I asked, keeping my voice friendly and the muzzle of the assault rifle pointed more or less away from him, but not too far away.

"I'm doin' okay, I guess, at least in comparison to most of the rest of humanity. Just got back from a camping trip up Big Bear way. Got sicker'n a dog! Wasn't 'til I got back to Victorville that I found out what had happened. Guess I'm not the only one who survived. That's good news!"

"You didn't hike all the way here from Big Bear."

"Nope," Dryer laughed a little. "Van broke down just the other side of the summit. I figured I'd see if I couldn't pick up a car or something in Bakersfield, then get on over to LA and see if there's anyone left that I know."

"Not likely that you'll get very close to LA in a car, and the chances of finding anyone you know alive are slim to none."

"You're probably right, but what else have I got?"

"Before I answer that, why don't you just take one of the cars whose drivers don't need them anymore?"

Dryer shrugged. "Most of 'em are out of gas. Drivers either pulled over and didn't turn the engine off, probably because they wanted to use the heater or A/C, depending on whether it was night or day when they stopped, or they died behind the wheel and the car just kept going until it hit something. Some of those aren't driveable anyway."

"What'd you do before all this?"

"Stunt man, believe it or not. All the stuff the actors' insurance companies wouldn't let 'em do or they thought would muss their hair."

"You know anything about horses?"

"Sure. Grew up tending horses for the westerns, when they were popular. My first stunts were on horseback." He nodded at the string of horses that now stood patiently waiting for the truck to start moving again, eating the grass along the shoulder of the road. "From here, looks like you've got a pretty good string, but I'd change those shoes if you're going to keep 'em on the pavement for too much longer."

"You know how to do that? Change the horseshoes, I mean?"

"Yeah, that was one of my jobs on the ranch. Even learned how to make horseshoes from scrap iron. I did pretty much everything - blacksmith, farrier, groom, stable mucker, even mended the tack now and then."

"Well, Matt, we're collecting everyone we can who might be interested in giving the human race a kickstart, then we're going to see if we can find an out of the way place where we won't be bothered too much until we get a little momentum going. If you want to join us, you'd be welcome. We have one person who knows a little about horses, but we could sure use your experience."

Dryer rubbed his chin as he looked around at the truck, the derelict cars and the hills. "You pretty sure I'm not going to find any of my folks alive back there?"

"I can't guarantee it, but we've come down from the Bay Area - up San Francisco way, and we've got three women and four men that we've picked up along the way. That's all we've seen except one guy up in Vallejo who was more interested in robbing the corpses than in starting over. Granted we probably missed some, but we cut a pretty wide swath coming down the valley and these seven are it. You'd make it eight."

"Well, I wasn't really looking forward to walking all the way to Bakersfield, and riding sounds pretty good about now, whether the steed is flesh and bone or metal, so why not?"

"Can you handle a gun?"

"I can shoot, and most of the time I hit what I'm shooting at, but I've never shot another person, if that's what you're asking."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but we want to be prepared, anyway. Gunny, how about getting him outfitted. You feel like doing a little scouting on horseback?"

"Sure, but if you've got some food and water, I'd appreciate something to eat and drink first. I had some water in the van with me, and some snack food, but that ran out a ways back. Hadn't really planned on taking this long to get back to L.A. "

"Of course. I should have thought of that."

We got Dryer situated in the back of the truck while he ate. He seemed to be someone you could take at face value, but then, most people seemed that way. It was how they reacted in a crisis that would tell me what I really needed to know about my travelling companions, but by then, it might be too late. As I started to climb back into the cab, Ruth pulled me aside.

"Look, Gavin, I know you don't want to disclose your destination, but it's pretty clear that you're planning to hole up somewhere in the desert, otherwise you'd have cut east long before this. The supplies you've been collecting also suggest someplace in the desert, not to mention all the desert survival stuff you've been teaching us. Now, you don't have to answer, and I'm not interested in exposing your plan because I think it's a good one. The desert is one of the last places scavengers will look for stuff to take, but I do want to tell you this: My sister's place might be just what you're looking for. It's in the hills to the east of the Twenty nine Palms Marine base, in a tiny, hidden valley that has its own artesian spring, and unless you know where to look, you'd never find it in a million years."

"Show me on the map." I told her, retrieving the topo maps I got from the National Guard armory in Vallejo.

"It's here," she said, putting a finger on the map east and south of Barstow. "You go past the Marine base, then turn down this road. Right here, you turn south through Cadiz, then, about halfway to Archer, you take this little nondescript trail to the east. It eventually winds up through these hills, then you top out about here, and you're in this green little valley... My sister's husband was Native American, and he built the place himself. They lived off of what they could grow or kill, but the place is really nice."

"This wouldn't be your way of enticing me to go check on your sister, would it?"

"I don't believe anyone survived there, Mr. Thompson. They don't have cellular service but there is a land line. I've called several times since I recovered, and left messages on the answering machine. No one has called back."

"Okay, it's worth checking out. I'll talk it over with Sergeant Garcia, and if he agrees, we'll head that way."

Ramon agreed it was worth looking into, and we continued on toward Barstow.

We had been driving pretty hard, so when we got to the summit at Tehachapi, I decided we could take a break and set up camp for the evening. Garcia recruited the new guy to help him teach the novices in the group a bit about how to set up a safe, secure camp. Between the two of them, they managed a fairly decent hot meal, then demonstrated how to wash the dishes - first scrubbing them clean with sand, then sterilizing them over the remaining fire. I thought we would be pretty safe in the middle of an open field as we were, but didn't want to start out being careless, so I set up a watch schedule. I took the first watch and found it harder to stay awake than I had imagined. Fortunately, we had coffee, and I kept my tin cup full, as much for something to do, as for the caffeine.

Every few minutes, on no set schedule, I got up and walked around the camp peering carefully into the moonlit darkness of the meadow where we camped. After the stress of the past few days, I found it calming to be there in the crisp air of the early fall mountains. I had to keep reminding myself not to stare into the fire, and I gave Jamaal and Matt Dryer the same advice when I woke them for 12-4 watch. I had made a fresh pot of coffee and handed each of them a cup as they emerged from their tents.

My sleeping bag felt warm and comfortable, especially since I had taken the time to prepare a mat of dried grass on the ground where I pitched my tent. I was a bit surprised when, just as I was falling asleep, the zippered door of the tent opened, and Cora slipped inside, dropping the robe she wore before sliding into the bag with me. It was a tight fit, since it was really only a one person sleeping bag, but fortunately she was a small woman, and wore no clothing to take up extra room.

"Ruth and I decided we might as well get started," the young filipina said playfully as her small, cold hand sought my penis and her little butt wriggled playfully against my groin. "We flipped a coin, and I won you."

It certainly didn't hurt my ego to know that they had each wanted to start with me, but I wasn't sure how to feel about being selected by coin toss. On reflection, I supposed I could get used to it - for the good of humanity, of course.

It wasn't exactly 'love-making' since we really didn't know each other that well, but it was far too sweet and tender to be called 'fucking' either. Cora was responsive to my touch, and her small breasts begged to be caressed, while her eraser-sized nipples loved being pinched lightly and rolled between my fingers. There wasn't a lot of room to maneuver, but there wasn't much need, either. As soon as she had me ready, Cora tucked my cock into the moist recess between her legs. She was a tight fit for me, and I took it slow, trying not to go faster than she could handle. When I bottomed out at her cervix, I thought that was all she could handle and prepared myself to deliver the shorter strokes her small body seemed to demand.

To my surprise, though, Cora's small, strong hands reached around and urged me onward. Slowly, with infinite care, I advanced fraction by fraction, alternately pushing and withdrawing. Each stroke penetrated slightly deeper than the last, until, with a little wriggle, Cora's buttocks flattened against my pelvis. Each time I pushed a little deeper, the little Filipina emitted a small sound that seemed to convey pain, wonder, pleasure, and lust all rolled into one tiny cry.

"I never... ! Oh, my! So big! So deep!" She panted as my pubic hair nestled against her soft buttocks. "My husband..." she began then trailed off, shying away from the memory. "I'm just not used to such a big one!"

Small hands held me in place while Cora's hips swiveled around the axis of my rod. A tiny moan of satisfaction escaped her lips as she felt herself stretched enough to accommodate me. At the urging of her hands, I started stroking, long and slow. I suddenly remembered what my hands had been doing, and Cora gasped as I kneaded her breasts and played with her elongated nipples. Cora, fortunately, seemed as excited about the situation as I, and it didn't take long for either of us to reach our peak. The young nurse shuddered in my arms, climaxing quietly, almost shyly, as my own climax strove to help her produce one of the first children of the New World.

Cora showed no sign of wanting to leave, and it felt good to have her there, so we snuggled together and slept the chilly night away.

"How come the ground is softer here than under my tent?" She asked sleepily.

"It's not. I just took time to collect some dried grass to put under the tent before I pitched it."

"I will have to remember that."

"It's a good thing to know. Dried leaves, corn husks, hay, most of those will work. If you can't find anything for padding, take time to dig a couple of small depressions for your hips and shoulders. Oh, and one more thing: two sleeping bags can be zipped together to make one large enough for two people."

Cora laughed a little at that. "I will try to remember that next time I go tent-hopping!""