Chapter 2

Stacey, Pam, Vickie, Diane, and I snuck into the dorms and crept up four flights of stairs, finding no guards posted. Quiet laughter drifted through the partially open door to the hallway where we were. They had pistols but weren’t expecting a full-scale military assault to come bursting through the door. Wisely, when it did, they left the pistols untouched. Seeing five guys and seventeen girls sitting comfortably together, all with a pistol nearby told me everything I needed to know.

“I apologize for scaring you like that, but it has been our experience that groups usually consist of one guy and multiple women that are his prisoners. Obviously, your group is together by choice and nobody is forced to be here. We will leave and leave you alone if you wish, or you may join with us.

“As you can see, the women with me are also armed. They’ve just had more training in defending themselves than your group has. We plan to collect as many people as we can before moving north to the Central Valley. I want to get away from the cities to a less dangerous place and start over. We will be able to farm there and produce the food we need to survive after the canned stuff is gone.”

“How many people are in your group?” one of the guys asked.

“Twelve,” I answered after a moment’s consideration. “I was a SEAL, Diane flies Apache helicopters, and Pam flies a lot of different things. We also have two nurses and medical supplies,” I explained, handing them a scrap of paper after Stacey wrote her address on it. “We’ll wait downstairs for half an hour to let you talk. If we don’t hear from you by then we’ll leave. If you decide tomorrow to join us we’re at that address. Go to the back door. The front door is locked and rigged to explode if it’s opened,” I warned.

“What will we be expected to do?” one of the girls asked nervously.

“I’m guessing pretty much the same thing as here. You have a wide diversity in race here which shows you’re tolerant of others. I’m sure you all pitch in equally with everything that needs to be done, and you probably have someone in charge but all have a voice in decision making. I make the military decisions because of my experience but am open to suggestions. I expect everyone to learn to be proficient with a pistol as well as an M-4.

“It was pointed out to me this morning that anarchy rules now. If you don’t know how to defend yourself and what you have, you will lose what you have as well as your freedom and possibly your life. For example, there should have been sentries posted to warn you if someone showed up,” I explained. They all fidgeted guiltily.

We left them to their discussion. It took all of five minutes before one of the guys came down to let us know they wanted to go with us. They had mistakenly believed that their superior numbers would protect them. Our appearance and their quick capture had shaken their confidence severely.

It took forty-five minutes for them to gather and load their belongings into their cars, and we were headed home. I was surprised that they still used their old, beat-up cars. We pulled up in front of the house and unloaded everything, then drove two blocks away to park the cars before driving the drivers back to the house in a single vehicle. No need to advertise our location with several vehicles parked out front. I could see that we’d need to find someplace bigger tomorrow.

I took the girls, along with Connie and Carol, back out to scavenge the hospital for medical supplies. I was sure medical supplies would go fairly quickly and was probably one of the first items that would stop being available. I preferred “shopping” at night because the IR scopes and night vision goggles gave us a decided advantage.

Finding the nurse that had told me to take keys from someone and the doctor that had treated me shocked me. Both were unconscious on patient beds in the otherwise empty emergency room. Each had a series of IVs piggybacked together with antibiotics. Counting the bags I could see they had piggybacked enough for two weeks hoping they would survive. Some of the IVs looked like something was wrong, though. The fluid had a brownish tint.

The content of the doctor’s chart--Dr. Lori Waters--was similar to what had been in mine. They had been like this since the evening of the day I left. Only when I looked at the nurse’s chart did I understand. The note inside read:

If we are still alive when you find us, there is hope that we might survive. Of all of the patients we treated, only one survived. When he was near death, I put 2cc of an herbal tincture into his IV in the morning and again that evening. He regained consciousness just over 24 hours after the first dose. I have included that same herb in our IVs. I pray that it works.

Linnea (Nea) Sorenson

On a surgical tray nearby sat a solitary, stoppered bottle. The label read “Chaparral Tincture.” I put another 2cc into the IV of each woman while Connie and Carol scoured the cabinets and drawers for supplies. We vowed to pick up equipment from nearby hospitals wherever we finally ended up. Making sure we had plenty of IVs to supply Nea and Lori for at least two weeks we carefully loaded them into the cars.

When our two patients and everyone else were finally settled, I tried to decide where to sleep and was informed that my room was waiting for me. They didn’t tell me that I had company. Beverly, Carol, and Diane were almost hidden under the covers. Stacey, Pam, and Vickie slept on a second bed in the same room. Seeing how exhausted I looked, Vickie let me off the hook and took a rain check on the second fuck I owed her after losing the bet this morning.

Nea regained consciousness shortly before dawn. She was surprised to see me caring for her and I explained about finding them last night.

“It worked?” she asked.

“Looks that way,” I replied. Lori woke an hour later.

Breakfast was eaten in shifts before we loaded into cars and headed back to the base in a convoy. We stopped by five different gun shops and found three of them still untouched. The other two shops had been ransacked but again, people only took the large caliber pistols and hunting rifles. Once again, we depleted their stock of 9mm and .22 pistols and ammo as well as Tasers, pepper spray, and holsters.

The first order of business when we got to the base on Coronado was picking out a barracks for our temporary home. Then we hit the firing range to teach the newcomers how to use the pistols properly while a portable generator charged our Tasers. Two hours later we switched to M-4s. With Diane, Pam, Vickie, and Stacey helping, the task wasn’t nearly as daunting as it might have been, but I now understood why DIs were so surly. Even so, everyone completed the training well enough that I was confident about giving them weapons to lug around.

Body armor, a combat vest, ammo belt, pistol, Taser, night vision goggles, radio gear, M-4, and helmet is a fairly hefty load, especially for Keiko. Susan, Joan, Nea, and Lori spent the day nearby recuperating on cots we set up in the shade for them. They were being tended to alternately by Connie and Carol.

Afterwards we went back across the bridge to the mainland and raided two grocery stores across the street from each other. Once I was sure the coast was clear, we cleared the inside of both stores and then loaded two large military trucks full of food and supplies.

After dark we headed for University of California, San Diego. Their campuses are spread out a lot more and it took half of the night to scout the campus. I was shocked to find nobody there and wondered what had happened to them. Turning around to ask Pam a question I caught a wisp of rock music in the parabolic microphone. Duuuuuhhhhh, smart students living so close to houses that had belonged to the very wealthy had moved into those houses.

Nineteen students were laughing as they danced and swam at the house. Vickie walked up to the two barely armed guards at the front gate looking so innocent. Once they moved far enough away from the gate that nobody inside could see them she Tasered both. The small amount of noise they made was easily covered by the din from the party.

Their party mood died quickly when they saw us. The next hour was a repeat of the previous night but with seven guys and fourteen girls. When I asked why there was only a two to one ratio they explained that several of the girls had banded together farther up the road.

Six of us set out to find and invite them to join us. Somebody had beat us to them and three guys had forcibly joined the 15 girls. We could tell by the atmosphere that it wasn’t voluntary like the last two had been. With Pam and Stacey covering me I worked my way slowly up the hundred-foot long driveway and into the back yard. The guy that was supposed to be on guard was more interested in preventing an escape that preventing an intrusion.

When he fell across the back of the girl he was fucking doggie style she just figured he’d cum. That gave me time to cover her mouth. When she finally understood that I’d killed the guy and that she was safe, she stopped trying to scream and showed me where the other two guys were. One was drunk and passed out. The other was simply asleep. Both were dead, neck snapped, before anyone else in the room knew I was there.

The 14 girls grabbed their belongings and fled out the front door in a much more orderly manner than I had any right to expect. Pam and Stacey met them there and directed them into the caravan they had radioed to pick us up. We had to take some of their cars from the house to have room for everyone and their belongings but got back to base just before dawn. The first group had already been made comfortable and the second group was given a different floor of the barracks.

Exhausted, I slept until late in the morning. Only the gunfire from the firing range midmorning finally woke me up. I was surprised to find Susan and Joan in bed with me and even more surprised to see them up. They quickly brought me breakfast in bed and settled down next to me, thanking me for saving them and seeing that they were so well cared for. We snuggled together for a while after I ate and finally headed to the firing range--after detouring to the armory.

Each new recruit was asked to fire one of the dozen sniper rifles at a target 200 yards away. The best twelve became our snipers. Then we spent the rest of the day talking. We collected information on each person as far as any special skills they had and what their area of study had been. Half of them could drive a stick shift. Two of the girls had private pilot’s licenses and could fly small propeller-driven planes. Three of the students were computer whiz kids. Three were electronic engineering students, and three of the girls grew up on farms.

We started making a list of things that we felt we would need to procure now for use in the next two years. A second list was for things we would need to procure now to use beyond the next two years, and then tried to devise a plan for the next month and the next three months, as well as for the next year.

By bedtime, our plan was surprisingly detailed while still somewhat flexible. We would work our way north to Camp Pendleton. Our convoy would include enough trucks to carry whatever we could appropriate from around here. Diane would fly one of twelve Apache helicopters that had been temporarily stationed at NAS North Island. They had been intended to use in a joint-services operation. Pam would fly a Seahawk cousin, a Navy HH-60H Seahawk loaded with a heavily-armed quick response team in case we were attacked.

We would fill tankers with fuel for the helicopters, as well as the trucks and cars. It would have to last us for a while since we weren’t sure where or when we could get more. Two of the engineering students from UCSD promised that they could eventually convert everything but the aircraft to run on vegetable oil or grease rendered from animal fat. At Pendleton, we would collect all the weapons and ordnance we could use that we had room for.

Then we would drive through LA and vicinity checking the major colleges for more recruits, as well as picking up any additional people we found along the way. Finally, we would work our way to the Lemoore Naval Air Station. Near the heart of the Central Valley it was on flat land, miles from anywhere, and surrounded by prime agricultural land. More than two-thirds of the actual land belonging to the base had been leased back to farmers to grow crops on.

We would begin our stay by going back out to find double-wide mobile homes, driving them onto the base and setting them up in “family units” if the base housing wasn’t enough for everyone we arrived with.

The girls already realized that they would end up having to share, with each guy having multiple wives.

Our tentative list of first year crops was set (assuming we could find the seeds), as was the list for each subsequent year until we were producing everything we consumed. The things we couldn’t produce--such as spices like vanilla, cinnamon, cloves, and pepper--would need to be heavily stockpiled before existing supplies ran out.

Ultimately, we hoped to build a wall/levee around much of the base. With the dams open, there was likely to be flooding eventually. The wall/levee would also give us a barricade around the complex making it easier to defend.

Finally, we set up an interim government. Each group selected one person to represent them on the Council. The groups were SDSU, UCSD1, UCSD2, and our group, who called themselves Mike’s Girls. The Council was responsible for assigning work details and approving or vetoing my plans for each day.

The plans for the next day were to send three groups to scout and strip major law enforcement offices in the county. I wanted all the Tasers, beanbag rounds for shotguns, handcuffs, and manacles they could gather as well as SWAT gear. The SWAT gear would come in handy for any future raids.

The rest would begin finding semis and driving them to a large parking lot close to our barracks while I drove around the different parts of the base identifying cargo we would take. I decided against trying to unload cargo from the ships docked in the harbor. At some point I realized just how much military hardware I was considering just to protect one small community. That thought both sobered and saddened me.

The group was abuzz when I got back. Stacey practically bowled me over when she literally jumped on me the second she saw me. I recognized the look in her eyes--so alive, feeling energized beyond anything she’d felt before. “Is everyone okay?” I asked, concerned.

“We are--they’re not doing too well,” she giggled pointing to two guys hogtied on the floor across the room. One had a tourniquet secured around his left thigh above an obvious bullet wound. “I’m glad you’re all safe,” I whispered as I hugged her.

All the two captives would say is that there were two more of them and they had several girls wherever they had been staying. They adamantly refused to give up the location. I had them taken to a different building while I gathered the tools I’d need, and then asked the six who had come with me to wait outside and not come back inside unless I called them. They all shuddered when they saw the assortment of devices I had with me.

There are so very many ways to torture someone, probably an unlimited number of variations on a large number of proven techniques. Part of my training had included being tortured to gain the ability to resist talking if we were ever captured. The only way to endure beyond a certain point though is to believe in someone or something you are willing to die for--or to be afraid of what someone might do to you if you talk and survive. Even those can be overcome if you approach it right.

“I can’t leave scum like you two alive. When I’m through with you, you will both be dead. Your only choice is whether you die quickly or slowly and painfully,” I explained calmly while securely tying the men and hanging them by their wrists. A bloodcurdling scream followed nailing the wounded guy’s right foot to the wooden floor. I looked up expectantly to see if he was ready to talk yet.

“Ex-military?” I asked.

“Fuck you,” he spat. His left foot was quickly secured in a similar fashion and he passed out halfway through his scream.

“You ex-military, too?” I asked his buddy. He shook his head emphatically. His eyes were the size of saucers. “Ever hear of water-boarding?” I asked nonchalantly. His eyes bugged out.

“Is ... is he dead?” he asked of his unconscious friend.

“Nah, just passed out like the pussy he is. He thinks he’s tough, but he doesn’t know what tough is. He won’t die for a few more hours. By then he’ll be a blubbering mass of jelly,” I casually told victim number two.

“Do you promise not to torture me if I tell?” he asked, almost crying.

“Single shot through the head, no pain. I’ll even give you time to pray first,” I promised. By the time his buddy woke up I had the address and layout of the house. I also had a sense that this guy didn’t really belong with the other guys. I removed the tourniquet from the first guy and left him there while I cut down number two and handcuffed his hands behind his back. “What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Sam, Sam Rasmussen,” he answered quickly. He kept looking back at the other guy as we left the building.

We used the shackles the girls brought back from the law enforcement agencies to secure Sam while we raided the house he told us about. I wanted him alive for two reasons. First, I wanted him alive in case he lied to us. Second, if I was right, he just might be allowed to survive. I didn’t want to say anything and get his hopes up just yet, though.

So far, so good--the house was just like Sam described. The two remaining guys were hunkered down like they were expecting trouble--probably because their buddies didn’t return. I radioed Dianne and had her join me with a sniper rifle and bring two more snipers to cover our six. The nice thing about going against civilians is their lack of comprehension. Both guys were watching the front from behind a rock wall. If I hadn’t already checked the area with infra-red I’d have thought they were setting us up to be attacked from behind.

“Three, two, one, fire,” I counted down. A duet of reports echoed back and forth between houses for a few seconds while we watched and waited. After nearly a minute I crept down with Diane covering me. Both were down, and I made sure they were dead. Then I cleaned my knife on their shirts.

Leaving my M-4 outside with Dianne, I crept through the house. The IR scope showed a cluster of people huddled together in the far corner of an interior room. I opened the door and waited, unsure how many there were, whether there might be one or more guys still in the middle of the group, or if anyone was armed. “All four guys that were holding you here are gone. You’re safe now. Come out one at a time and exit the front door. The women there will take you to safety,” I shouted.

When they didn’t move, I called Beverly in to talk to them. Finally convinced that there were really armed women in the group they sent out one woman. We talked for a couple of minutes before she called the rest of the girls out. Using the key I got from Sam’s partner we took the handcuffs off of the girls and took them back with us--all 20 of them.

“Is my brother dead, too?” Tatiana asked. There were tears in her eyes.

“Sam?” I asked. She nodded, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “He’s fine. We have him locked up right now,” I said.

“He didn’t do this. He tried to protect some of us by telling them we were his women. They made him join with them by threatening to kill him otherwise,” she sobbed. The five other girls that had been with him confirmed her story. Sam had been trying to protect them and they were captured while they were “shopping” for food. The men let him keep his women as long as he cooperated. Their story fit perfectly with the feel I’d gotten for Sam.

I talked with everyone when we got back. They decided an official trial was in order, so we held one. It lasted all of forty-five minutes, consisting mostly of testimony from Sam’s six women. The other women at the house verified that he’d never mistreated any of them. Even our girls from the raid where he’d been captured had suspected that he hadn’t been firing directly at them during the short firefight.

It had been decided by everyone beforehand that I would decide his guilt or innocence and any punishment I felt was appropriate. “I find you innocent of everything except a minor charge of helping the other three men. Given the circumstances, I do not fault you. I offer two choices for your sentence. The first is to leave us. The second is to join us and accept a minor punishment. I will decide upon your punishment after we have reached our final destination and have established a safe place to rebuild.” There were happy tears in his eyes when he chose to join us.

“Thank you,” his sister sobbed happily when she practically tackled me trying to hug me.

The group was quickly dubbed Sam’s Girls and chose Sam as their representative to what we decided to now officially call “The Council.” He gasped in surprise when I handed him a pistol.

“Welcome,” I told him. Tatiana still hadn’t let go of me and received knowing smiles from the rest of my women.

She finally let go of me a while later--long enough to take her clothes off while the rest of the women with me helped her by taking my clothes off.

We spent two days loading 20 semi-trucks with military hardware--everything from pistols and ammo to rockets for the Seahawk and Apache. Each truck had a ten-foot high number crudely painted on top of the trailer. When we started the convoy, I wanted to be able to follow the progress of each vehicle and check it from the air if necessary. Our three resident electronics students got GPS units in every tractor that didn’t already have one as well as every other vehicle we were taking with us and linked them to a computer. One of the two SWAT response vans we had appropriated was turned into my mobile command center. Aside from having cameras on the helicopters so I could see what they saw, each member of our quick response team, or QRT, and all the designated snipers had a camera attached to their helmet. Every vehicle had a dashcam looking out the front windshield.

Two computer screens in the SWAT vehicle had every available image shown at one time so I could touch up to three and call them up on my three main screens.

While we loaded trucks and rigged the electronics, the others refined their skills with the guns. Diane worked with them the first day before having to break off to ready her helicopter. I was hoping we would find mechanics, soon. She and Pam were like little kids at Christmas once we got the choppers ready. Two of the girls were trained how to load the ammo for the helicopters. They loaded the rockets, too, even though Diane wouldn’t be able to use them without a gunner.

“I can do that,” Vickie protested. I tried to let her down gently, but she made a good point. She wasn’t flying the helicopter and the firing controls were so much like a computer game she played all the time that she was sure she could do it. Diane took Vickie up on the maiden flight of “Arrow 1” as Diane christened it. Out over the ocean Vickie got her chance. I was surprised when I saw the twin trails from two rockets being launched.

When they started strafing runs on a nearby rock jetty I was even more surprised. My surprise grew again on the second pass when they blew up one of the lifeguard stands with a rocket. “She’s good,” Diane said when they got back.

Vickie squealed excitedly and jumped on me practically strangling me. “I guess you have your gunner,” I answered, amused. Cool.