Chapter 6: Sunday, November 18th, 2012 - 0430

Bill was up very early on Sunday. He couldn't sleep because he was worried about his son and his family so he fiddled with the short wave so he could get some news until day light. The local radio stations were all standard Associated Press reports. According to the AP the US had been attacked by foreign religious groups. Short wave radio provided a completely different picture. According to SW radio the Weathermen organization was the cause of all the problems and they received their direction from both Chicago and Washington DC. There was an inference that the current administration was directing the violence but there was no proof. Bill was prone to believe the SW stations simply because of the concerted effort by someone to get them off the air. Several had been bombed and one had been hit by a missile strike. Bill thought about the assassination of President Elect Julian and the report of advanced body armor being used. "Another indication of federal involvement, or someone very high in the government," Bill thought.

Bill had one of the four stroke four wheelers out of the shed and was heading to a lookout point by day light. He had the M1A1, the civilian version of the M-14 that they kept in the earthship latched on the rifle rack. Bill didn't want to be caught in a situation that required long range work with short range tools again. Bill and Rob had discussed the merits of the two-stroke vs. the four-stroke four wheelers. They decided fuel economy, simplicity and quiet operation would be more important than the speed of the two stroke engines if the worst happened. Bill smiled grimly as he started the machine. The worst has happened and he didn't know where his son was or where his family was. Keeping a lookout was all he could do for his son and he wanted to make sure none of the bad guys were around. He took the hand-held two-way with him so he could scan frequencies from the higher location. Fortunately the hand held they got from the bad guys used the same type batteries Rob and Bill had stocked for their own hand-held's. Bill had left one on the kitchen table with a note about where he had gone. He didn't want Cherie to worry if she woke while he was gone and wanted her to be able to contact him if she needed him. He had explained the need for radio silence the night before but short, quick messages should be OK. He hoped it would be. Bill and Rob had agreed on a contact frequency if they were separated. They had planned as if they knew when this would happen and tried to handle it as if it were an actual battle. Now it was an actual battle and Bill was thankful for the planning.

Bill's thoughts about Cherie and her daughter bothered him as he drove the four-wheeler to the lookout point. "Cherie was certainly good looking enough, with and without clothes. Both of them were," he thought with a blush. That last thought bothered him a lot. He wasn't a pedophile and she was just a kid. "But a damn cute kid," he admitted to himself. The vision of both of their nude bodies flashed through his mind. The memory of the full, voluptuous figure of the naked mother when she attacked the crook with the knife was burned in his memory. He didn't think he could forget the image of the wild woman with full breasts bouncing as she landed on the thug with both knees and drove the knife into his back if he lived to be 100. He could even remember how hard her nipples were from her passion and anger. Her breasts were almost too big on her slender frame and hips. Bill's preference ran toward more slender and smaller breasted women like his late wife. "More like the daughter," he thought and blushed again. Her slender body certainly wasn't boy like. Mary was still a girl but right on the cusp of woman hood and the image of her small breasts high on her chest kept flashing into his vision. The memory of the blood on the girls thighs angered him and invoked the same protective instinct he felt towards his own family. "I wonder if that protectiveness is wired into guys' genes," Bill wondered as he approached the crest of the hill.