Part 21 (1/2)
”We're on our way. See if you can make friendly contact with them.”
”Yes, sir.”
The community stretched for several miles, with lots of s.p.a.ce between houses, so the residents would not feel hemmed-in. The lawns were neat and well-kept, spring flowers just beginning to bloom.
But what really caught Ike's eyes were the four missile silos he'd seen spread out over the four miles or so. A grin began crinkling his face.
Now he knew how and why these people were left alone.
But old soldier that he was, or sailor, as the case was, he also knew these people were, in all probability, running one h.e.l.l of a bluff.
But he'd play it their way for a time; see what developed.
As his column rolled past the homes, with Ike's Jeep in the lead, the people had stepped out of their homes, watching. Watching with no apparent fear.
All were heavily armed, and very capable looking.
”Pull in right up there,” Ike ordered his driver. ”Looks like some sort of community center.”
Ike stepped out of the Jeep and slung his weapon, leaning against the Jeep, watching as a well-built man walked toward him. The man appeared to be just about the same age as Ike, fiftyish, and in good physical shape, with close-cropped hair and big, work-hardened hands. Ike guessed him about six feet tall.
”I'm Ike McGowen,” Ike said. ”Commander of this contingent of General Ben Raines's Rebels.”
The man grinned. ”You people finally decided to check out the west coast, huh. Good. Glad to see you.
I'm John Dunning. The people sort of put me in charge around here. From what radio messages we have intercepted, you people @.re kicking the h.e.l.l out of the IPF and those mercenaries. Welcome to our little community, Ike.”
John and Ike shook hands. ”Tell your people to park and relax. And get ready for a good home-cooked meal. You're safe here,”
John said.
”Yes,” Ike said drily. ”I saw the ...
ah, silos.”
John caught the twinkle in Ike's eyes. His own eyes twinkled. ”You doubt we would use them, Ike?”
”Oh, you'd probably use them ... if you had any activated missiles in there to use.”
”Well, let's put this way, Ike. We have a lot of electronics people who came here from Silicon Valley after the bombings. They can be quite convincing; were quite convincing when the IPF came in here. If you get my drift.”
”I get it, John. But you're playing a dangerous game. What if Striganov calls your bluff?”
”Then we fight with what we have, Ike,” the man's reply was simply stated.
”One more thing, John. How do you know I am who I say I am?”
”Because our people have been tracking you and Ben and Dan and Cecil since you first came to California. Well, not exactly our people. But people who are aligned with us against the Russian and the mercenary.”
”The underground people?”
”Yes.”
Ike sighed. ”But how in the h.e.l.l do you meet with them? They refuse to meet with us.”
”That is a problem,” John admitted. ”But we've overcome that by working out a series of drops.
We leave messages for them, they leave messages for us.”
”What is their problem, John? Why do they live the way they do?”
John shrugged heavy shoulders, packed with muscle. ”Call them dropouts, I suppose.
They just reject things modern. They feel that the ancient ways were the best. They have tiny, well-hidden gardens in the timber. They trap, hunt, fish, and live underground. And before you ask, I don't know their numbers. I would guess in the hundreds.”
”That many?”
”Yes. And they are either good friends, or vicious, terrible enemies. Luckily for us, we started out befriending some of them. They always returned the favor in some small way. Then some of our children became friends with some of their children. It just grew from there.”
John opened the door to the large community building. Ike stepped in. He could smell the aroma of fresh-cooked food. Men and women were busy setting plates and silver on long tables.
”Looks like we were expected, John.”
John smiled. ”Yes. We'll talk as weeat. I feel the time has come for us join up with General Raines.”
”Oh, little girlie!” the man panted, hunching between Kim's wide-spread legs. ”That's the tightest I've had in a long time.”
The half-dozen men from the warlord Popeye's group had grabbed Kim as she scouted ahead of her friends just inside Oregon.
Bird bent his head and began licking Kim's nipples. She accepted the a.s.sault on her with stoicism. She had already spotted her friends moving up, silently, through the timber by the roadside.
”Move around some, Bird,” an outlaw said.
”Let her get on top so's I can screw her b.u.t.t.”
Hurry up, gang! Kim thought. Please hurry.
Bird s.h.i.+fted, getting on the bottom, his gross nakedness on the gra.s.s, the girl on top.
He pulled her head down to his s...o...b..ry lips and licked at her mouth.
Kim almost puked in his face from the stink of his horrible breath.
She felt the cheeks of her b.u.t.tocks being spread apart. She looked up as a third man dropped his dirty trousers to his ankles and stepped out of them. He stroked his hardness and glared at her through mean little piggy eyes.
”If you bite me, you'll die hard,” he said.
”Real hard. You understand?”
Kim nodded her head and then screamed as the outlaw behind her penetrated her tightness.