by Wayne Mee
Christ! Now he sounded like a Doctor Phil rerun! Yet the problem of Flame would not go away. Nor, he noted wryly, was he the only male she was having an effect on.
This morning he had been watching Eddy and Billy target practicing. While the two of them had been blasting away, Flame had wandered over. After a while Billy had let her try. The young idiot had actually handed her his gun! Brad had held his breath as she took the weapon. Slowly she had aimed and fired, hitting four of the six cans the men had set up. Brad hadonly started breathing again when she handed the large gun back to a wide-eyed Billy. Next he’d watched dumbfounded as the young fool dug her Smith & Wesson out of his pack, complete with shoulder holster and all, and actually given it to her! Eddy had looked uneasy about the decision, but Billy had insisted.
Checking to see the gun was loaded, she had fired twice, hitting the two remaining cans. Then she had done something strange. She handed the smoking gun to Eddy and ran off to set the cans up again. Billy had stood in open awe of both her ability as well as the way she moved as she went to set up the cans.
Even Tina seemed to accept her. Yet why not? By shooting Blade, hadn’t Flame saved the girl’s life? Only Eddy seemed unchanged by the amazing Amazon that had deigned to wander amongst them. Eddy, Brad realized, didn’t trust her --- That made Brad feel somewhat better, and somewhat guilty.
He got up and trickled a little water into his cousin’s mouth. He then wiped his chin, checked his breathing, and went into the main room. The boys were at the table, waiting for Tina to pronounce her muffins ready for consumption. Billy was trying to tune a guitar with only five strings.
“How’s Dad?”, Jessie asked.
“Still sleeping. He took some water.”
Jessie got up and went silently into his father.
Brad ruffled his own son’s hair. “Where’s Eddy?”
“Outside somewhere,” Kenneth smiled, then turned towards the kitchen. “Hey, Tina, those muffins ready yet?”
Brad found Eddy on the steps running an oily rag through the barrel of Josh’s Winchester. His own Remington lay in pieces, the long scope carefully wrapped in a clean Green Leaf t-shirt. Eddy’s eyes sought Brad’s. The question didn’t need to be spoken.
“Still the same,” Brad sighed, sitting down heavily. Only with Eddy could he show his fear. Only with Eddy.
And Eddy didn’t trust her.
They sat there in silence for a time, like two old friends soaking up the summer sun. Only with Eddy --- and with Josh.
But Josh might die.
“No!” Brad hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud.
Eddy ignored it, working the overlarge lever on Josh’s short, powerful rifle. “The Duke’s gun.” There was more than a touch of reverence in his voice. “You know, I’ve seen just about every movie John Wayne ever made. A few of them were shit, but most of them were pure gold: Red River, Rio Grand, Fort Apache. My favorite two were The Searchers and True Grit. I saw that one a half dozen times. He was slowing down a bit near the end, but he could still kick ass!”
Suddenly he stood and did a passable impression of The Duke, then worked the lever with the famous ‘flip’. “Josh does it better.”
Both men smiled, then Brad asked where Flame was. Eddy handed him the long rifle scope and nodded at the rocky summit. Brad’s smile vanished as he scanned the bare, rocky cone. The rugged peak leapt closer. A quarter of a mile from the top he saw a figure coming down at a fast pace, red hair flowing out behind. Setting the scope down, Brad met Eddy’s gaze.
“What do we do about her?”
Eddy began assembling his Remington. “I’ve already talked to Tina about her. She thinks we should accept her. She says Flame’s not like the others, that she just fell in with a bad crowd.”
“You buy that?”
Eddy shrugged. “Could be. I think she likes excitement. The bikers gave her that. Now they’re gone and we’re here.”
“What about when we meet a more ‘exciting’ group?”
Eddy shrugged again.
Jessie’s high-pitched yell made them jump. “He’s awake! Dad’s awake!”
Two more days of rest, limited exercise and Tina’s home cooking soon restored Josh’s health. Except for a long scar on the left side of his head, he seemed almost as good as new. Josh accepted Flame from the start, listening to Brad’s doubts but pointing out that she had clearly made her choice by shooting Blade and saving Tina. Reluctantly Brad pushed his own doubts aside, along with his ‘other’ feelings.
The next day they began the three mile trek down to the road. Due to Josh’s head wound they went slowly, reaching the Ranger Station by mid afternoon. Billy and the boys soon had the flats changed and early the next morning they were on their way towards Mt. Washington. By 9:30 AM they were in a wooded parking lot of the Cog Railway, at the base of the highest mountain in the east. A small, turn-of-the-century train sat in the bright sunlight, waiting patiently for the next load of tourists that would never come.
“You sure you’re up to this?”, Brad had asked his cousin. Josh had winked and shouldered his pack, though both Eddy and Billy had already shared out his heavy gear. Joshed carried his rain gear, a sweater and a canteen. Tina, in the lead, kept the pace to an easy stroll.
Soon they were headed up the Ammonoosuc Ravine Trail to Lakes of the Clouds Hut. Built on a windswept plateau, with Mt. Washington’s6,288 foot peak towering another thousand feet above it, the hut was the highest in the entire system. Tina called it her favorite trail in all the White Mountains. A bitter-sweet memory flooded back to Josh as he remembered how much his wife had loved it as well.
Half way up they came to Jem Pool, a crystal clear basin of greenish-blue water at the bottom of a long series of falls and slides. All pulled out bathing suits and went off searching for a private place to change. When they returned, they found Flame and Og already in the pool. The water was crystal clear. Like the pup, Flame wore only the suit she was born in.
Grinning, Josh herded all the males further up to swim in the falls, leaving the pool for the females.
An hour later, on the steep trail above the pool, Brad, bringing up the rear, suddenly came across Flame sitting on a log having a smoke. The day had turned very hot and Flame’s white t-shirt was soaked with sweat. Brad tried his damnedest to keep his eyes of her nipples.
She patted the log beside her.
“Take a load off, Brad. I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”
Brad sat down, not bothering to take off his pack.
“You don’t trust me much, do you?”
Before he could respond, she continued. “Oh, I know you like what you see, but you still don’t trust me.” She turned to face him, her left breast brushing his arm. He suddenly felt like he’d been burned. Looking up into her green eyes, he saw both frankness and a hint of laughter. “I just wanted to let you know it’s cool. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. As for the other, well, I’m used to it. I even enjoy it.”
Brad held her mocking gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”
She smiled, a real smile this time, with a hint of something else. “All my life I’ve been looking for something. I guess you’d call it freedom. That’s why I hung out with bikers. I tried the surfer shit, but they’re just brainless kids. For a while I hung around with rock bands, but all they wanted was drugs and endless sex. Bikers are much the same, but at least they do things, go places. They even have their own kind of honor. I like that about them best. “ She turned away, her voice dropping. “They’re not all like that pig Snake.”
Not knowing what else to say, Brad asked her about Blade. She smiled, yet there was a lingering sadness in her eyes. “He was up front. A nice guy. Under all the macho shit, he actually cared about me. It was him that saved me after the world went belly-up. Those first couple of days --- without him I wouldn’t have made it.”
“And yet you shot him.”
Her green eyes went the color of steel. “He was going to kill Tina
. At first I thought it was a bluff, just a way of getting us away from you guys and Snake. But then I saw it was no bluff. He would have done her for sure if I hadn’t ---”
She fumbled in her pack for another cigarette. The zipper snagged and she gave up. Brad thought she was either telling the truth or giving a damned good performance. A picture flashed in his mind of her accepting an Oscar for her part in the hit film ‘Biker Sluts From Hell’. In his mind her dress was cut all the way to her navel.
When she turned back to face him, her Smith & Wesson was in her hand. Brad’s heart raced. It was only after she reversed her grip and handed him the gun that he noticed there were tears in her eyes.
“I know you and Eddy don’t trust me. The rest do, even Josh to a point, but you and Eddy don’t. If I give you this, maybe you will.”
Brad frowned down at the heavy gun as she continued.
“I don’t want to be alone. Never have. And now that the world has...” Her hands went to the hem of her sweat-stained t-shirt. Slowly it began to rise. “I’ve seen how you look at me. It’s okay. Like I said, I like it.” The shirt was high on her chest now. Brad suddenly found the sun very warm indeed. Her voice purred on, though he wasn’t watching her lips. “I just thought that maybe we could be... friends.”
His hand slowly reached out. His fingers touched hers --- gently pulling the shirt back down. Then his eyes sought hers. They looked as deep and clear as the beautiful Gem Pool. His voice sounded lower than usual.
“I’d like to be your friend. And to be honest, I’d like the other as well --- but not this way.”
“Why not?”, she asked. “I can tell you want to.”
Brad smiled warmly. “Friends don’t take advantage of friends.”
She sat looking at him for some time, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You’re one of the ‘good guys’, aren’t you? Just like Josh.” Then she hefted her pack and started up the trail. After a few strides she stopped and looked back. There was a hint of mischief now in her green eyes. She nodded at her gun still in his hand.
“Keep that for me. But remember, friend; you can give it to me whenever you want.”
With that she was gone up the trail, leaving Brad to ponder the double meaning to her words.
Chapter 19: ‘THE SILENT BARD’
San Bernardino
California July 11
Jocco Wellington was not in a good mood, and when that happened, more than shit hit the fan. Bobby-Joe Burlis glanced nervously at George the Man. Both had been given field promotions two weeks before. Now, as senior officers in the Army of the Dark Stranger, Jocco held them accountable for any and all screw-ups.
They’d been in San Bernardino for three days. Every few hours one of his Sweep Crews, led by an original recruit from China Late, brought in new applicants. These were quickly processed. Name, age and a brief background were noted, along with any special skills or abilities. Then the applicant was then tested. Those that passed were issued army fatigues and given the rank of private; those that failed were taken out back and shot. The pile of bodies at the rear of the plush hotel was growing rapidly, yet not as quickly as the ‘army’ itself.
Still, Jocco was far from satisfied. For one thing, the goddamned power was off! Not just here, but everywhere! It happened the day after they arrived. Power meant not only that the lights didn’t work, but the elevators, stoves, fridges, everything electrical had all suddenly gone the way of the fucking dinosaur!
Then there was the goddamned traffic! Stalled, wrecked and abandoned cars everywhere! It had been bad enough coming down I-15 from Barstow, but the closer they had gotten to San Bernardino, the worse it had become. The centre of town was a bloody nightmare!
Surprisingly it was Lt. Walter Piss-In-His-Pants Pinkton who had come to Jocco’s rescue. The timid little faggot was a fucking genius when it came to organization! The Sweep Crews had been his idea, as had the Road Crews who cleared the area around the hotel and the Cook Crews who found propane stoves and lanterns and kept Jocco’s growing army eating as well as moving. Even the Test Crews had been Pinkton’s brainchild!
No longer was the ‘initiation’ one long drawn-out drunken gang-rape. No way Hoe-Say! Wicked Walter had suggested that each candidate be told very clearly exactly what was expected of him, then taken to one of the hotel’s testing rooms. Inside he’d find an armed guard and a woman tied to a bed. If the candidate passed, fine. If he didn’t, well, the Sweep Crews were bringing in a constant line of new candidates and Walter’s Burial Crews were there to take care of those who failed. That dubious duty, by the way, fell to the newly recruited members of Jocco’s merry men. After that they worked their way up to Latrine Crew. Like newly made Lieutenant Georgie-Porgie laughingly reminded them: “It may be a ‘shitty job’ boys, but it beats the fuck out of burying your buddy – Hoo Ha!”
Jocco had set Pinkton the up in the room down the hall from his. There the little prick was told to write down any and all ideas that came into his perverted but very fertile mind. Jocco had been so pleased with the little shit’s twisted plans that he had given him his pick of the women. Walter had chosen the blonde they had found hiding in the church at Barstow. Though he hadn’t seen it himself, Bobby-Joe had told him that Walter kept her chained naked to the bed and higher than a kite on pills Rat found for him.
Walter J. it seemed had a latent taste for S & M. Good, Jocco reasoned. It never huts to know a man’s weaknesses.
“What is it, gentlemen?”, Jocco quietly asked the two men suddenly standing before him. His voice, coming from behind the manager’s desk in the Plaza Hotel, was soft, cold and very dangerous.
Bobby-Joe glanced at George, then spoke up. “It’s the fucking traffic, Jocco! The road to the airport is jammed with wrecks!”
“Then clear them, Lieutenant. By tomorrow.”
“I’ll need more men and more tow-trucks.”
Jocco looked down at the duty roster Walter had drawn up. “Use the Road Crew working outside. Take Corporal Shehe and his Weapons Crew as well. But get it done!”
Bobby-Joe scrubbed the stubble on his chin. He was tired, filthy and in need of a hot shower and a cold drink. He was also pissed off and about to step out on some very thin ice. “Shit, Jocco, what’s the fucking rush? We’re stretched out as it is! Half the men are out on Sweeps, the other half are working there asses off ‘round here!”
Jocco smiled, all the while fixing him with that cold stare . Bobby-Joe suddenly felt the already thin ice get one hell of a lot thinner. His stomach did a half-gainer while his scrotum tried to crawl back into their hairy sack.
“By tomorrow, Lieutenant.” The moment stretched away into eternity, then was gone as Jocco turned that cold smile from Bobby-Joe to George. “How are the Tests coming along?”
George the Man fumbled a small notebook from his pocket. “Pam the Bitch says another seven men passed. That makes a total of twenty-one in three days. Pretty good, eh?”
“How many women found?”
George didn’t need to refer to his notes for that one. “Five today, but two of them were old scrags. I assigned them to the Cook Crew. The three younger ones went to the Test Crew.”
“Well done, Lieutenant. If you wish, you may choose one for the rest of your shift.”
George the Man’s expression lit up. Since they’d reached town all of them had been working eighteen hour shifts. “Fucking-A!”
“Dismissed, gentlemen.”
Bobby-Joe was hastily following an ecstatic George out the door when Jocco softly called him back. Walking around to meet him, Jocco placed a hand on the shorter, heavier man’s shoulder.
“We’re moving blind here, Bobby-Joe. As you yourself pointed out, ground travel is hampered by the traffic, yet I need to see what’s out there. A blind army is easily defeated. I need to reach that airport.”
Bobby-Joe nodded, willing himself not to sweat. “Okay, Jocco. I’ll do my best.”
Jocco clapped him on the sh
oulder; his voice had that velvet edge to it that sent shivers down Bobby-Joe’s spine. “I know you will. Oh, and Bobby-Joe, when you get the road cleared, tell George to pass on his new distraction to you when he’s finished. Just as failure should not go unpunished, I believe hard work should not go unrewarded.”
Bobby-Joe nodded and left quickly, glad to have escaped the room alive. It didn’t do to disappoint Jocco. It didn’t do at all!
Four doors down from where Bobby-Joe stood sweating in the hall, Lt. Walter J. Pinkton stood looking down at the naked girl on the bed. As her eyes widened with fear, a little shiver of his own ran down his spine. The pretty blonde pulled on the handcuffs chaining her to the brass bed. The effort made her breasts heave, increasing Walter’s shiver. Stepping forward, he grabbed her long hair.
Lovely. Soft. Hi!
The act itself didn’t take very long. When it was over he walked on trembling knees into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, having showered and put on clean fatigues, he was once sitting at his desk, pen in hand. The blonde on the bed now forgotten.
He wrote on the thick, leather bound journal, his letters neat and precise.
1]Data base needed. Get lap-top computer. Extra batteries needed.
2]Portable gas generators needed.
3]Look into heating hot water for officers.
4]Burial Crew changed to Flame Crew.
5]Topographical maps of area needed.
6]Double number of Testing Teams.
7]Double number of Weapons Training Crews.
The blonde let out a little whimper. He frowned at her, then turned back to his list.
8]Get more pills from Rat.
9]Set up Transportation Crew. Buses and trucks equipped with CB’s.
10]Set up Communications Crew. Check local radio stations.
He paused for a moment, a cold smile crossing his pinched features.