Inna looked at Abigail. “I think, sister Fanny, that Abigail has sufficient equipment already to wrap men up.” Abigail laughed, but still blushed a bit.
They prepared to leave. Abigail made sure she had her house key and I.D.
“Here.” Inna handed her back the switchblade. “It can come in handy if we run into a rude clerk.”
They were still laughing as they left.
Four hours later, they were back, all carrying packages. Abigail felt almost punch drunk. She had never been “shopping” like this before. At all the stores they went to, all the sisters kept grabbing clothes items, holding them up in front of Abigail, passing judgment on the piece of clothing as it pertained to suitability for wear.
Aleks had held something very sheer and revealing in front of her. “Hm. This will be perfect.”
Abigail then realized it was a set of very sheer dark negligée—bikini panties, top that reached down to thigh level, matching garter belt and nylons. The Avenging Angel’s eyes nearly bugged out, and her mouth dropped open.
“No. Please. I cannot wear that. It is indecent.”
Aleks stopped. She looked at Abigail for a moment, then spoke in a low tone.
“Little sister, I know you are a virgin. No, do not blush. You are lucky that you have had the time to be extremely selective as to who you wish to… give yourself to.”
“This, is for that someone special.” Aleks held up the ensemble. “ Every woman needs something like this. Someday, you will meet that special man who will be that one. He will be the love of your life.”
She sighed. “As the Amerikanskis say, I had to kiss a bunch of toads before I found my Prince Torbin. In my line of work, I had to sleep with some toads for my country. But when I found him, it was like all the rest—the past—did not exist. And that is why, Abigail, I owe you for saving him. I would die without him.” A small tear began to form in her left eye, which she quickly wiped away.
Abigail looked at the negligée. It was…very pretty, but she still had to take a deep breath to center herself again. “I will bend to your opinions. I just have no experience in… sex, in creating sexual desire in men when I want to.”
Aleks smiled. “My dear, down deep, all women know how to create desire in men. We just do not always admit to it. But, I will work with you as you wish, seeing as my husband promised that I would show you all the knowledge of feminine wiles he claims I have.”
The sisters finally found what they wanted for Abigail. They then brought her to a hole in the wall diner that Abigail discovered was run by an expatriate Russian. Abigail was treated to a series of small dishes and foods which were a definite step above chow hall food, even the Doc’s.
She turned down the vodka, though.
The four women arrived at Abigail’s home, and made her sit while they unpacked the purchases and found places in her bedroom for them. Aleks hung a sign which read ‘welcome’ in Russian on the front door, and placed a bouquet of flowers on the main table.
“Come, little sister,” Inna called. “See where we have placed all you clothes.”
Abigail walked into her bedroom. Everything was expertly placed in the closet and in her chest of drawers. A nice business pants suit hung next to her Dress Blues. In the closet was also a basic black dress that every women needed in her repertoire. Several pairs of colored bikini panties shared the dresser with her basic granny panties. She even had a few pairs of panty hose and thigh high nylons. Of course, she had a few pairs of military xtyle socks, as well as sweat socks. They threw in a couple pairs of slacks, blue-jeans, some skirts, blouses, a formal dress, and another summer dress to keep the one the Prophet’s wife had given her company, and now both the closet and dresser were full.
Inna and Fanny had looks of satisfaction on their faces.
“Later on, we will help you get some knickknacks and other items to gather dust. Every home needs them.” Aleks told her.
Abigail went to woman one in turn, hugging them.
“I can never repay you all. This is like… Christmas and birthdays all rolled into one.”
Inna snorted. “You are family. If you try to pay me back, I’ll be very mad and hit you. And I hit hard.”
They laughed. Moments later, the women began to leave, to give Abigail a chance to rest. “Remember, the General told you to take the next few days off,” Aleks reminded her. “I will be back working tomorrow, but since I and Torbin live next door, just pound on the wall if you need something. I will send Torbin running to answer.” Abigail hugged Aleks again, then they left. Abigail collapsed on her sofa.
That was about a month ago. Abigail, back in the present, kept walking, humming. The memory of those first days would always be a special for her, but her thoughts now turned to more serious memories.
Some nine days after the nuke strike against the Tschaaa Lord, the Squid had broadcast a message over the airwaves and internet to everyone who would listen. It had been the first time Abigail remembered seeing an enemy on television. After apologizing for his Tschaaa killing some of their quisling human allies, he admitted to having tried to “improve” the human species through genetic and organic modifications. Then, as if those announcements weren’t enough, he also had one additional message.
“To the families of those who died or were injured during the attack on me and Director Lloyd—I will ensure that survivors will be well taken care of, using our superior Tschaaa medicine to repair their bodies. And to those females who were affected by my attempt to improve your species’ health, fecundity and development—I will ensure that their health and the health of their offspring will be closely monitored.”
The Tschaaa Lord then manipulated his social tentacles to communicate ‘stern warning. “But be warned, we Tschaaa are in the superior position in the food chain. As the apex predator, we have the ultimate authority. You humans who work with us to improve your species’ standing, work to be a productive client of the Tschaaa, you will be amply rewarded. We have already—with Director Lloyd’s excellent help—brought your living standards back to close to what they were prior to our arrival.
“Those who resist and who attack us, like the Rebels and Ferals did, will be harshly dealt with. We are already beginning to harvest extra cattle who are beginning to resist us in Cattle Country. We will soon respond to the violence brought to our young with violence in kind to the Unoccupied States. Now is the last chance for the Madam President and her people to accept our control.
“There is a human saying from your twentieth century: ‘You can be either part of the solution, or part of the problem.’ Those who accept our direction and guidance will be part of the solution. Those who do not… will be dead and harvested. I will leave you with these thoughts. Have a pleasant day.”
That had sped up developments in the Free Human sphere. Madam President had immediately broadcast a response, acknowledging all of the newscasts emanating from Deseret. For the first time she also gave the official story on the rumors of genetic and physical modifications of humans—primarily females—that the Tschaaa were attempting by secret insertions into the population. It was arranged that all women and girls would report to the nearest medical facility to determine if this “infection” had affected them. The President had also instituted an official draft for war service of all residents of the Unoccupied States, ages eighteen to fifty, and asked all of the local militias that had been formed to contact the War Department for coordination of resources. (War, not Defense. One should call it as it is.)
“I do not want to send our people off to war, but the Invasion and Infestation brought war to us. Our Congress will remain fully functional, as will our civilian rule of law. It may seem at times that the military has assumed martial law, but that is not the truth of the matter. To insure that is the case, again with the approval of the other elected representatives and our judiciary, I have reconstituted a Federal civilian law enforcement agency in the forms of a Marshalls Service and a Customs Service. The Marshal
ls will be the law enforcement agency responsible for the enforcement of laws and the investigation of crimes within the boundaries of the Unoccupied States of America. The Customs Service will set exit and entry controls, and enforce all laws and investigate all crimes involving the movement of people, goods, and services across the borders of the Unoccupied States. They will also coordinate law enforcement functions and investigations with foreign governments. Both of these entities date back to our original constitution of 1789.”
She motioned to someone off screen. “I would like to introduce Paul Miller, the Commissioner of the Federal civilian law enforcement agency. Prior to the first rock strike, he had many years of experience in law enforcement and will be organizing this new endeavor. We are asking that anyone with law enforcement experience to please come forward, as well as any current sheriff, police, and vigilance committees to please contact him for coordination of resources. Law enforcement service will count the same as military service when it comes to the official draft.”
Then, her “she bear” side emerged. “I will cut this short now, ending with this. We humans do not accept an inferior position to anyone. We are not cattle!” She slammed her fist on the podium from which she was speaking, sending her notes flying. “We and our other Free Friends will fight. We will fight to free all the People of Color being used as Cattle. No matter what the color of our skin, we are all humans!” She slammed the podium again. She glared at the television cameras. “To all of you Squids out there. As my Japanese friends like to say, ‘Prepare to be sushi!’”
The last statement, and variations of it, soon created a cottage industry of placards, flags, banners, signs, stickers, patches, caps and t-shirts. A slang term for a military member became “sushi chef”. Torbin’s disabled vet friend Mike at the BX mall became moderately wealthy, having one of the few remaining t-shirt shops around.
Soon thereafter, General Reed told Abigail what he would like her to do. “Since you can speak more languages than I can shake a stick at, and have excellent training skills, I would like you to help in training new officers and soldiers, as well coordinating and interpreting for the influx of foreigners we are about to experience. Russians, a hand full of Romanians, a couple Germans, maybe some Finns. Of course Japanese, which I understand you are also picking up quite nicely. Sound good?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good. You start tomorrow.”
All of the events she had just remembered ended one month ago. Abigail had been working ever since, with little else to do or think about.
So wrapped up she was in her review of recent memories as she walked, she almost did not notice the loud bark, cry of pain from a human throat, then the sound of loud cursing.
Abigail liked to walk this way because it was near the canine kennels, where the military working dogs were kept. She liked to see the dogs at exercise, to hear them bark. She planned on stopping in one day, to offer her services once she saw a way of not seeming too pushy. That thought was about to go by the wayside.
There was a loud crack as something broke thru a wooden gate near the edge of the canine runs. She turned toward the commotion and saw Him for the first time.
At first glance, he looked like a very large—nay, giant—german shepherd. Then Abigail noticed his muzzle was a tad bit shorter, and his ears flopped over at the tips, rather than stand up pointed like a shepherd. But he was huge.
The dog came bursting out into freedom, running and bounding almost like a large deer. Yards behind in pursuit were three people in uniform. One that looked like he had Senior NCO Stripes on his uniform yelled at her. “Lady, freeze!”
But the large dog had already seen her, and made a direct beeline for her.
“Harry, get the gun,” the Senior NCO yelled.
Abigail then did what came naturally. She put her full grocery bag down, and sat down cross-legged.
The NCO thought he was about to see a murder by dog.
The huge animal went straight for her, mouth open as if to bite. Abigail gave a short whistle, then looked down at the ground. The canine slewed a bit to the side instead of hitting Abigail straight on. The dog saw long blonde hair in a ponytail, smelled a young female, and seemed to remember someone in his past. Then, he was circling Abigail, decelerating.
“Hey, fella. You’re a big one. What’s your name?” Abigail said in a normal tone of voice.
The giant beast kept circling her, first growling a bit, then slowing and snuffling in her direction. He reduced the size of the circles until he stopped still behind her.
Abigail let the dog sniff her hair, her head, and the side of her face.
“Hey, big fella, can I sniff you? Or how about a little scratch? Like on your chest and tummy?”
The dog came around directly in front of her. Keeping her eyes averted, she slowly reached her right hand up. She began to scratch his chest, very light at first. Then a little harder.
The dog began to grunt and groan in satisfaction. He put the paw of friendship on her arm as she scratched him.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” At the sound of the male voice, the canine whipped around, placing himself between Abigail and the Senior NCO. He snarled loud, showing a very impressive set of teeth.
“Sergeant, it’s okay. I’ve got him,” Abigail said quietly. She gently began to scratch the dog’s ears. He stopped growling as Abigail spoke to him in soothing tones.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, big fella. What’s your name?”
A female voice responded, “Fuzz. His name is Fuzz.”
Abigail chuckled. “Well Mister Fuzz, glad to meet you.” At that, the big dog laid down and rolled over so Abigail could scratch his stomach.
A young woman in combat fatigues and E-5 Strips slowly walked up. Abigail noticed the name Martinez on her name tag. She was a short and stocky, fairly dark-skinned Hispanic, a lucky one who got away from the harvesters. She moved closer. Fuzz glanced at her, then ignored her, concentrating on the stomach scratch and rub he was receiving. He let out a small satisfied groan.
“You are Captain Young, from Deseret.”
“Yes, Sergeant Martinez. Pleased to meet you. I’d shake your hand but as you can see, I’m a bit busy.”
“Fuzz will at least tolerate women. He seems to hate men. I have been working with him since someone dumped him about a month ago, as he seemed to have received some prior training.”
She then looked a little incredulous. “But what he is doing right now is….incredible.”
Abigail grinned. “I had an Uncle who used to train dogs for hunting and protection. I spent some summers with him, so I picked up a little about dogs from him.” She began to scratch Fuzz’s chest again. “And, dogs just seem to… like me.”
Abigail noticed the Chief Master Sergeant, former Air Force by the rank emblem on his uniform, was standing back with an incredulous look on his face. His name tag read Croft.
“I’m not trying to ignore you, Chief. It’s just that if I keep scratching his chest and stomach, Fuzz here seems to stay calm.”
“That’s okay, Captain. I know he hates me, so I have Sergeant Thomas coming with a tranquilizer dart…”
Abigail looked at him. “Why? I have him calm now.”
“Ma’am, he just bit one of my men for about the sixth time. We’ve been trying to get him settled and trying to start training him as a K-9 Patrol Dog. He seems to have had a lot of training already. Whoever dumped him by the back gate left a note telling us they were donating him and his training for the cause. He had been doped up when he was dumped, so we did not realize he had a problem with men. Like Sergeant Martinez said, he deigns to work with her when he feels like it, but goes ballistic when someone else tries to work him.”
Abigail looked at Fuzz, whose eyes met hers. Maybe she was imagining it, but it was almost like he was seeing someone else, remembering someone important to him when he looked at her. Whatever ever the reason, Fuzz had quickly latched on to her.
“What’s
the game plan after you tranquilize him, Chief?”
Chief Croft looked at Fuzz. “We’ll probably have to put him down. He is just too dangerous to let him loose.”
Fuzz looked at the Chief, and a slow rumble began in his chest.
“Hey, relax Fuzz. Let me handle this.” The Chief was a good six feet tall, but when Abigail rose slowly, with a steely look on her face, he actually took a step back. “No one dies today, Chief.”
“Captain, all due respect, but you are not in my chain of command. I’m the kennel master and I decide what to do with my dogs when they become a danger to others.”
Abigail did not waiver. “No one dies today. I’m taking him.”
“You can’t do that. I can’t let you do that. If he hurt someone, it would be my ass.”
Fuzz quickly stood.
“Down, big fella,” Abigail ordered. Fuzz sat. She never took her eyes off Chief Croft.
Sgt. Martinez realized that Abigail Young was not going to back down. She saw a look in her eye that sent a shiver down her spine. Chief Croft was a good kennel master, but he did not have a killer’s instinct. The young lady standing in front of her did, especially when defending someone or something she believed in. Today, Fuzz was that “someone”.
“Chief. Captain Young is a Diplomat. Deseret’s official representative.” Sgt. Martinez was thinking as quickly on her feet as possible, trying to diffuse the situation before the Chief suffered the consequences, and a messy incident between governments occurred.
“So?” the Chief shot back. Fuzz was beginning to eye him like a hunk of beef.
“So, if she takes responsibility, I think she has some type of qualified immunity, or special dispensation, or… hell, I don’t know! I just know that if she takes the dog I don’t think General Reed or anyone else will hold you accountable. Besides, it gets the problem out of your hands. It also saves you having to bug the vet, doing a bunch of paperwork… You know, just another pain in the ass to deal with.”
Maybe Chief Croft saw a way to save face and get rid of a big problem, or maybe he was really listening to Sgt. Martinez. Whatever the reason, he responded, and addressed Abigail. “You’ll tell General Reed you took full responsibility for this dog? Since we didn’t procure him under normal circumstances, we’re not out any money except a few vet expenses and food. I know that I won’t be faulted if he disappears. But he cannot be allowed to run loose.”
The Tsunami Page 18