Bio-terrorism Aftermath
Chapter 6

Copyright© 2010 by FantasyLover

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Survivor of a virulent bio-weapon attack gone wrong tries to figure out what to do with himself and how to best survive. He ends up leading an effort to regroup and restart civilization. I know there are a lot of stories out there like this, I've read all or most of them. This is my take on it.

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Mult   Consensual   NonConsensual   Rape   Reluctant   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Post Apocalypse   Polygamy/Polyamory   Cream Pie   Oral Sex  

When the troops were all ashore, they began unloading equipment. The two Blackhawks started up and flew ashore. While the four tanks drove off the ship to the dock from the modified lower deck hatch, one Blackhawk flew cover while the other went in search of the first group. One tank was left alongside the ship and ten guards were left aboard to guard the women.

The previous group had left signs spray-painted in Arabic along the route to their compound. Finding the compound empty and signs of fighting, they doubled their guards and sent the Blackhawks aloft to search the city. We debated for all of five minutes and launched a strike. Flying the F-35s, Craig and John hit the two Blackhawks with air-to-air missiles while the Avengers hit the three tanks at the compound and the tank at the docks.

Our Blackhawks swept in, disgorging troops to surround the compound as well as to guard the ship. A large group of the men tried to make their way back towards the ship only to encounter heavy automatic weapons fire and supporting fire from the Apaches and Seahawks, as well as cannon fire from the fighter jets. They quickly got the message and withdrew back to the compound, their confidence critically wounded but their body parts intact.

The sentries on the ship weren’t as lucky. Despite taking the most covered positions they could find, four were still exposed to our snipers and paid the price. The remaining six were pinned down and unable to guard the ship more than the limited range of vision they had towards the docks. Our copters swept in from the opposite side, dropping entry teams that quickly secured the ship. The women were herded into trucks for the trip to Baton Rouge.

The men, meanwhile, were forced to stay put inside the compound. That night a group of sixteen tried again to get back to the ship. These were obviously men forced to come, and we watched as they killed two of their own sentries and escaped through the southwest corner, running from one cover to the next. We thought they were trying to get to the ship until Avenger control told us that the cover they were choosing was to hide them from the compound, not us. Moreover, they were unarmed and running with their hands on their heads. We quietly directed them to a sheltered spot and forced them to strip to prove they weren’t wired to explode before they were led away.

They told us there were only 100 among them who wanted to be here. The rest had been forced to come and there had been talk all the way over of a coup, killing the leadership and the men who insisted on following them. Unlike the first group who had been able to choose their five wives from among all the women, theirs had been assigned to them. One wife who supported the militants had been assigned to each of the men who didn’t feel the same way. She would keep an eye on him. The other women had been sent against their wishes.

They had killed the two men guarding that corner of the compound and forcing them to stay, hoping that we saw that they were surrendering.

We sent five of the breakout group back to the spots they had used for cover when they escaped so they could guide any more escapees. One of them voluntarily went back inside the compound to spread the word. For the next couple of hours, a group would sneak out through the same corner of the complex every ten or fifteen minutes. Each group got progressively bigger until the final group of nearly a hundred men.

The man that went back in to let everyone know ended up as the last man to come back out. He had quickly explained to everyone that they would be required to strip and why, as well as telling them that we had held our fire, giving them the benefit of the doubt when the first group escaped. They had killed many more of the militants when the opportunity arose and now only militants were left alive inside the compound.

We chose to wait until morning and give them a chance to surrender. We offered to let the 400 men who surrendered return home to fight the militants there, but they chose to stay here, even after we warned them that Islam was not allowed to be practiced here. Well before dawn the remaining militants discovered their plight--only 33 of them were left. They had no running water, and only had the meager food stores left in the houses. The good news was that they could probably last for at least a couple of weeks by drinking water from water heaters and toilet tanks and eating the limited supply of food. In addition, there were plenty of houses and furniture that they could burn to keep warm--if we let them live that long.

“You have five minutes to surrender or you will die,” I shouted in much-rehearsed but still badly butchered Arabic, broadcasting through the speaker on one of the Apaches. Using the IR imaging to make sure the room was empty, the same Apache put an exclamation point on my ultimatum by firing a 30mm cannon shell into an empty room of the home they were huddled in. They chose not to surrender, the entire building erupting in a ball of flame shortly before the deadline, breaking most of the remaining windows in the complex as well as showering many of us with glass from nearby windows. I wondered if they still got 72 virgins for failing dismally and committing suicide.

Our troops eagerly climbed back aboard our two 747s for the flight home. Equipment was loaded aboard our fleet of C-5s and C-17s and re-distributed to the various bases it had come from. It was a very, very long convoy of trucks that arrived in Baton Rouge. There, the men reviewed the pictures of the women, picking out the 500 ‘snitch bitches’ who were conspicuously rounded up and separated, followed by an apologetic explanation to the rest of the women. We told them that 400 of the men had surrendered and that our offer to let them return home had been rejected. I explained about Islam being forbidden and why, and that they would be allowed the same rights as everyone else except that they wouldn’t receive military training. Their ‘arranged’ marriages were null and void as of right now. If they liked the man they had been with, they were free to see if he was still interested. If not, they were free to talk to any of the other men or wait and see what they found in Esperanza or whichever community they ended up living in. After their initial interviews, they boarded flights to Esperanza.

When the search for survivors in Texas had been completed, the Baton Rouge community established a small, temporary outpost at the airport in Laredo to extend their search into northern Mexico. The San Diego group was done with Baja and was starting with the western part of north Mexico.

Founder’s Day brought tears to my eyes as the Council accepted my recommendations. The Islamic women that had been provisional citizens--including the ones I used to torment--were all granted full citizenship. Farah was immediately given a uniform with red epaulets by my wives. Most of the worst Stockton women and the remainder of the first group of Islamic women were granted provisional citizenship. I was stunned when Rasha spoke, apologizing to everyone for her part in the attack, and to me for her previous attitude. My wives insisted that she move into our household since she was carrying my baby. Evidently everyone took my spur of the moment comment to her seriously as nobody else had touched her the entire time she was in the whorehouse.

-----.-----

Even though it was 105 degrees and uncomfortably humid outside, the pager I wore gave me chills when it went off. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the relative autonomy our armed forces worked with now. It wasn’t that I was concerned about their competence, rather, that I wasn’t needed to supervise them nearly as much as I was used to. I enjoyed the time it gave me to be with my family and the increasing number of children my wives kept presenting me with, but I was used to being part of the action, not supervising it from hundreds or thousands of miles away.

The pager indicated something above and beyond the usual day-to-day goings on as our troops continually extended our borders. It seemed that we added a new state to our fold weekly and we had now pushed well beyond the Mississippi almost to the Appalachians. We’d even made it to the Atlantic, taking Florida, Georgia, North, and South Carolina and had pushed into southern Virginia. Northward we’d explored beyond the first tier of Canadian provinces and southward we’d almost completed Mexico.

The first time my pager went off had been exciting news. The San Diego contingent had discovered the General Atomics plant that manufactured the Avengers in a small city named Poway to the north of San Diego. Aside from 20 completed Avengers that were awaiting shipment, there had been enough parts that our engineers, electronics people, and geeks managed to complete fifteen more. They had also scored six more control panels that joined the existing five we had scavenged from various military bases. That easily gave us enough to launch all the Avengers at the same time once we trained more pilots and sensor operators.

Another improvement we’d made was activating radar stations along the Pacific, Caribbean, and southern Atlantic coasts to warn us in the event of another approaching ship. We had also integrated the radar for air traffic control from the major airports along the flight paths we generally used and especially along the coasts to warn of any incoming aircraft.

This page quickly had us scrambling. Within fifteen minutes, fighter jets were screeching skyward headed for Los Angeles. They were quickly followed by cargo jets loaded with equipment and our 747s loaded with troops. In addition, our two cutters from San Diego were quickly dispatched north and two Avengers were launched from NAS North Island to give us eyes on the approaching ship. Before seeing it, I guessed that it most likely departed from China, India, or Japan.

The pictures from the Avengers showed a Chinese flag flying on a small freighter. It was modified slightly to include three heavily shielded .50 caliber gun mounts on each side of the ship and extra armor around the bridge.

The ship spent more than two hours looking for a berth and another hour berthed before a lone figure came ashore waving a white flag and looking around apprehensively. He startled, dropping his flag and quickly raising his hands when I stepped from behind the concrete wall. He came towards me when I motioned him over but kept looking longingly back at the ship.

“We do not come to fight. We come to find food,” he practically whined. Thank goodness his English was better than my non-existent Chinese.

I motioned to Mei and she stepped out where the sailor could see her. Their conversation was rapid fire and animated, but I noticed both relaxing. Finally, Mei turned to me and translated. “This is Zhou, their leader. There are 80 men aboard, all armed because they weren’t sure what they would find here but they didn’t come to fight. They hope to find food but had no idea what to bring to trade for it. In addition, they hope to be able to also trade for crude oil, but food is their main priority. There has been a drought for four years now and crops are faring poorly. All old supplies of food have been used up and they have to live on what they grow--and it isn’t growing well,” she explained.

I called Armando to see just how much grain he estimated that the advance troops had found on their sweep through the Midwest. As I suspected, there was far more stored in the silos than we could ever dream of using before it spoiled. The crude oil we could easily acquire here. Just offshore were manmade islands housing oil wells and pumping stations. In addition, there were several oil tankers of varying sizes in the harbor according to the now completed inventory of ships.

“Do they have enough men to take back two ships?” I asked. Zhou nodded animatedly when Mei asked. “It may take three or four weeks to fill their ship with wheat and corn and to fill a tanker with crude oil,” I warned. Obviously, time wasn’t nearly as big of an issue as just procuring the food and Zhou nearly shook my hand off. I radioed Stacey and told her what was going on. She agreed that we might as well as give them the grain since we’d never be able to use it before it went bad or was destroyed by rats. She nearly choked when I suggested the price we ask but agreed it was probably the only thing they had we really could use.

Zhou nodded understandingly when Mei told him what we proposed. We would fill their ship with grain and fill a large oil tanker with crude oil. In return, we asked them to send us people--500 people for each ship. We didn’t want them to force anyone to come here but hoped they would be drawn by the plentiful food and safety we provided. Tens of thousands of acres of farmland lying fallow to the north of us once grew rice, and we would start a community there for them to begin growing rice to ship to China. I suggested that several of the men visit our main community, so they could accurately report what the people coming over here could expect.

He agreed, and after arranging housing and food for the crew in our Long Beach enclave, he and ten others flew to Esperanza with us. They were shocked to find us with a fleet of jets--both fighter and commercial, as well as discovering that we had consolidated nearly 80 percent of the former U.S., much of Canada, and most of Mexico. Seeing everyone working together amicably convinced him that anyone coming here as part of the trade agreement would be getting the better end of the deal.

It was almost four weeks to the day before we managed to get miles and miles and miles of railroad cars filled, collected into trains, transported to L.A., and unloaded into the holds of the Chinese ship. The oil tanker only took two weeks to prepare and fill and Zhou accompanied it back to China to start finding people willing to relocate here. He surprised me when he admitted that they might have more volunteers than they needed because we were much farther along than they were.

He was returning with a laptop that contained hours of video of everyday life in Esperanza. They had many times more people than we did but spent so much time just trying to feed everyone that they lagged way behind us in electricity, railroads, refining, and especially flying. We agreed to fill a second tanker and a second grain ship and have them ready for a quick turn-around if they came back. He assured me that they would be back.

Shortly after the departure of the Chinese, Akilah and Rasha delivered two days apart. Tears of happiness filled Rasha’s eyes when I handed her our son for the first time. “I know this was originally supposed to be a punishment, but I have never been happier,” she managed to get out as she wept openly.

“Perhaps I can make you even happier,” I replied, opening the small box containing one of the rings my wives wore so that she could see it. The baby squalled in protest, suddenly finding himself crushed between us as she hugged me emotionally.

The tanker returned six weeks later--along with another cargo ship and two cruise ships. A grinning Zhou greeted me, introducing me to his 17 wives. “I told everyone I would come to prove it was safe but I really just wanted an excuse to bring my family here to stay,” he whispered conspiratorially. Evidently, the response had been overwhelming and the task had been choosing whom to allow to come over. Farmers were given first priority, but the families of the men operating the ships were allowed in order to encourage the sailors to continue making the voyages and not to jump ship as soon as they got here.

We arranged for the sailors and their families to use homes in the Long Beach enclave and flew everyone else to Esperanza for an informal introduction. There, they would receive their military training and would be shown the available choices where they could move if they wanted. We previously located two farming communities near Sacramento that we felt could accommodate them if they wanted to begin growing rice. Otherwise, there were numerous opportunities in the Central Valley or the Great Plains states if they wanted to farm there. On the other hand, they could always choose another location.

Zhou had made sure to choose a couple of men who were experienced with grain storage to help load the trains that we were still using to empty silos across the Midwest. The sailors would leave again in two days, once we loaded provisions aboard the already loaded ships. They had sent lots of “rookie” sailors this trip to learn how to handle the ships and we were able to send four ships back while continuing to fill even more. Two ships would leave in two days and the next two would follow as soon as we could fill them.

Meanwhile, we had a holiday to prepare for. Tomorrow was New Orleans Day. Having proven themselves, the last of the Islamic and the Stockton women would receive full citizenship status tomorrow. Our newest citizens were shocked that we would accept them so readily after what they had done. At the ceremony the next day, I was called upon to give my explanation once again. When I gave it to the original group of women I had asked the Council to pardon, they were so moved that they asked me to repeat it today. Fortunately, the women remembered more of it than I did and helped write it down. Upon hearing it translated, the Chinese understood and felt much better about coming so far from their old homes to start a new life.

---.---

Esperanza was cloaked in tule fog, the kind so thick that you can’t see ten feet. I could barely see my feet. It was a common winter occurrence in the valley. In contrast, Southern California was being buffeted by Santa Ana winds--strong offshore winds originating in the four corners area, warming in their rush across the desert and through the mountain passes before they turn the winter days into an unseasonal summer--with a highly increased chance of brush fires and forest fires.

The radio call was timid at best, as I listened to a recording of the original contact. “Can you hear us? Is anyone there?” a woman’s voice crackled frantically over the radio. “Please, we need help,” she begged, nearly in tears. The voices of two people having a disagreement were audible in the background but we couldn’t make out what was being said. “Please answer if you hear us,” the woman beseeched.

“This is Esmeralda Hernandez of the United California Republic,” our radio operator had responded.

“Thank you,” the woman gushed, then went on to explain their crisis. Islamic militants from Persia had joined with those from other Arabic nations. Between them, they controlled North Africa, East Africa, the Middle East all the way to Pakistan, and all the “stan” former Soviet Republics. Basically, aside from India, they again controlled nearly the same territory the Mameluk Empire encompassed 800 years ago, and even more in the north. Having regrouped, they were now embarking on a campaign to take India. Southeast Asia and probably China would be their next targets.

There had been communication between China and India. The Indian populace was aware of the help we gave the Chinese, as well as the reports about our lifestyle and conditions in our towns. When the Islamic army began their advance, the Indians retreated, basing their defense on the Russian defense against German invaders in WWII. Everything--cities, farms, and bridges--was destroyed as they retreated, leaving nothing but charred ruins, mined roads, and thousands of booby-traps for the Islamic army. Desperate to escape, more than 12,000 men and women filled cruise ships and cargo ships with water, food, fuel, supplies, and bodies, escaping only hours before the Islamic troops reached the city of Mumbai.

Thousands of deadly surprises had been left behind, including several large buildings set to explode and collapse when the invading army’s tank column passed by. The underground line used to fuel the departing ships was staged to erupt 24 hours after the first troops entered the city. The invaders would be cut off to the north by burning fuel and burning buildings. Their only escape would be the sea. Every ship still docked there had been outfit with sensors just above the waterline. When the sensors on any five of the ships were continuously submerged for 30 minutes due to the additional weight of troops aboard, every ship left in the harbor would explode.

If everything went according to plan when the refugee ships left Mumbai four weeks ago, the Islamic army would have received a severe blow. As for the ships that left, they stopped several times to refuel and resupply, leaving behind the empty tanker ships and empty supply ships to save fuel. Even so, they were now nearly a thousand miles short of their target with one ship that would be out of fuel within the hour and four that would run out tomorrow or the next day, still 500 or so miles short of their goal.

“Twelve thousand?” I gasped. That was nearly 20 percent of our current population. The call had already gone out to San Diego and their two cutters were already underway. Long Beach could have two fuel tankers ready to go by midnight to meet the ships as they approached. In addition, a small cargo vessel would be underway before nightfall with emergency food and medical provisions for the approaching ships. A helicopter aboard the cargo vessel would drop those provisions onto the deck of each approaching ship.

“I wish we could get equipment and troops over there to help. Once the Islamic army gets strong enough, they’ll be back, and we’ll have our hands full,” I said thoughtfully.

“We’re working on it,” Stacey answered from behind me. Her grin spoke volumes. “They wanted to be absolutely sure they had all of the bugs worked out, but I think they’re ready,” she said proudly.

I had noticed the new building going up alongside Avenger command, but I assumed it was quarters for the women working the displays. Instead, it was a similar command building with what appeared to be video trainers for the fighter pilots. Craig’s grin was even bigger than Stacey’s when he saw me come in, motioning me over behind a pilot training on one of the consoles. I watched as she landed her fighter amidst a confusing array of lines painted across the runway. I could tell that the runway was painted to look like a carrier flight deck.

“Yessssss,” she shrieked at the successful landing, pumping her fist into the air victoriously--except that it wasn’t a video game. Our geeks had rigged one of the older fighter jets to “fly-by-wire.” They crashed several jets in the process, but finally worked out the bugs. We now had 12 fly-by-wire fighter jets that could fly into combat anywhere in the world from right here. The pilots were also training for carrier takeoffs and landings as well as air combat. They had an advantage in air-to-air combat over normal pilots in that their bodies didn’t have to deal with the stress of G-forces while they maneuvered their planes. The plane that had just landed did so almost 300 miles away at USMCAS Miramar on a runway painted to look as much like a carrier flight deck as possible--sans a bucking and rolling deck as the sea had her way with the ship.

Additionally, we had two people that knew enough about nuclear reactors that they had gotten the reactors operating aboard the three carriers in San Diego. Troops had been diverted there to begin preparing the three carriers as well as several other ships in the harbor, for deployment. Perishable supplies and fuel would not be loaded until the ships were needed, but fighters, helicopters, tanks, ACAVs, missiles of all sorts, and ammunition were loaded aboard all three carriers. Tanks, ACAVs, helicopters, and ammunition were also loaded aboard transports and amphibious assault ships for LCACs to launch wherever we wanted the troops and equipment to land.

Now I was glad we spent so many man-hours at the Pentagon and CIA headquarters when we finally brought the area under our control. It had taken two months to finally make our way through the last of of the blast doors and security checkpoints, but they had finally accessed the entirety of both buildings. I never dreamed we’d be ready to launch a major attack halfway around the world so quickly. I called for a group to learn to program and launch cruise missiles to a target, as well as to gather as many cruise missiles as possible in North Island to load aboard the Aegis Destroyers there. A first strike with those would severely cripple the enemy and hinder resupplying their front-line troops.

Fortunately, the Council had again anticipated a burgeoning population--except that they had expected more Chinese immigrants. Many of the best agricultural areas across the country had been identified and towns were being chosen in each area for a preliminary population. Five more communities were established in the Central Valley, three in the Willamette Valley, and three in Washington’s Columbia Basin. In addition, six were set up in different states in the Midwest. Each time, former residents of those states were asked to decide where the communities should be located and those former residents of the area and state were offered the first choice of moving back. I didn’t envy whomever had to decide on who went as they had to balance the mix of people to make sure there were three QRT’s, crews for the two Blackhawks or Seahawks, and two Apaches in every community. They also had to provide maintenance crews for the equipment, as well as people who actually knew how to farm. They needed to include a medical staff, all while keeping entire families together. Each town had at least 2,000 people to start it and the Council had anticipated splitting up some of the Chinese immigrants to help bolster the population of the new communities.

The Indian ships took four more days to reach Long Beach and the better part of a day to get everyone ashore. Fortunately, our dockworkers there had cleared twelve docks by the time the ships arrived. By the end of the day, I think every single one of the new arrivals had personally hugged me. We gave them a couple of days to regroup and relax while explaining what we had planned and making sure it was agreeable to them.

They agreed, and for two weeks we processed the new arrivals. Each person received a photo ID card like all of us had--similar to a military ID card. Their name, photo, personal data, blood type, areas of experience and expertise, and language(s) they spoke were entered into our database. Just over 500 of them were men, as most of the men stayed behind to fight. The women were sent here so that the men knew they would be safe regardless of the outcome--although some women insisted on staying behind to fight, too.

While they were being processed and then sent on to their new homes, our military was busy gearing up for deployment. Eight weeks after our first radio contact with the Indian vessels, our convoy sailed from San Diego. Most of the 500 Indian men returned with us to act as interpreters and liaisons with the Indian troops.

The discussions regarding strategy and what troops and hardware to take with us had been heated at times. Personally, I wanted to take everything but the kitchen sink and drive the Islamic army back into the hole they crawled out of. On more than one occasion, I wished we could simply nuke the entire Middle East and turn it into a radioactive wasteland.

Finally, we decided on 5,000 ground troops, ten fly-by-wire fighter jets, ten regular fighter jets with pilots, and ten Avengers. Due to the limited number of people available to operate the ships, we limited our convoy to two nuclear-powered carriers, one AEGIS destroyer, and three fuel ships. Just before finalizing the plan, we had planned to take only one carrier, with a cruise ship for troops that didn’t fit aboard the carrier and add three supply ships. Since the carriers were nuclear and required no fuel, we decided on two carriers to limit our fuel-consuming ships. With the extra carrier, we could easily carry the extra troops and supplies and would have two separate platforms from which to launch jets and Avengers.

Twenty days after departing San Diego, we saw that the sabotage of Mumbai had the desired effect. The Islamic advance had been stopped cold while they attempted to regroup. Despite that, the Indian forces had withdrawn even further and were taking a pounding from the air as the Islamic forces bombed them daily. The Indian forces had some success against the aircraft and Carla identified the locations of six downed aircraft from our Avenger scans. Our radar scans showed only 17 planes still making the daily bombing runs. The Islamic military planners and pilots were making it too simple for us. Every morning they would finish their morning prayers, climb into their aircraft, and head for the Indian lines.

In a coordinated attack the next morning, cruise missiles destroyed the Islamic headquarters in Riyadh, Baghdad, Kabul, Karachi, and Mumbai just as their prayers began. The Avengers obliterated the remainder of the Islamic Air Force and our jets screamed over Karachi and Mumbai bombing targets of opportunity and strafing exposed troops and equipment with cannon fire. A second round of cruise missile strikes severely disrupted their main military bases and the third round demolished the most holy Islamic sites and biggest mosques in our range.

 
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