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 Mikala tugged at the heavy rifle on her back.  They had marched in this
heat for three days.  She, as usual, had no clue where they were going. 
The only home she had ever known was miles away.  Her feet hurt.

   She blinked the dust from her eyes and continued to trudge forward.  To
her right, the sun was beginning to edge it's way into the hills.  The heat
would continue today, but the sun would soon be gone.

   A large hand gripped her shoulder and spun her from the ranks of the
others.  Her commander, Jorge.  He was barely of sixteen himself but he ran
over half of this regimen.  He nudged her toward the tree line and he and
she disappeared from the sight of the long line.

   He shucked her pants to the ground and bent her at the hips.  She winced
as he forced his way into her.  He rammed into her until he had finished,
the AK-47 still on her shoulders.  He left her to gather her clothes and
tighten her belt again.

   When she rejoined the line, the other commander, Reuben, the second in
command of the Chavez Cartel's third Army battalion, slapped her on the
head.  "That's the second time in two hours.  How much water have you had?"

   "None, sir." She squeaked.

   "Then quit stopping to piss."

   "Yes sir."

   Jorge's juice ran down her leg and caked as it had the other leg
earlier. It would take and hour for it to rub off in her pants and by then
her skin would be raw.  Her left leg was burning of the inflammation, but
there would be no bath tonight.

   She marched forward at the end of the line, in hopes that when they made
camp, all of the hard jobs would be handed out already.

   When Reuben called to Jorge to make camp, the sky was dark.  Reuben
grabbed Mikala by her ponytail and twisted her head toward him.

   "For screwing around so much today, you get to find fire wood.  All four
fires." He slapped her across the face.  "Wait, take Jose with you."

   Jose was a teacher's pet.  Reuben took to him as a son.  But the
thirteen year old was more akin to Jorge when it came to his time with
Mikala.  And they all knew it.

   Jose followed behind her.  "You know what I'm gonna do to you?"

   "Yes sir."

   "I don't think you do." He twisted his fist into her pony tail and the
eight year old nearly screamed from the pain.  "Go get that wood.  Then I'm
gonna teach you how to take care of yourself."

   She gave him a questioning look, but answered, "Yes sir."

   She set about picking up arm load after arm load and dropping them in
the middle of the camp.  On her completion of the third pile, sweat pouring
from her and her inner thighs on fire from the raw flesh, Jose told her to
lock and load her weapon.

   He took her to a small ridge over looking the encampment.  "This is what
our enemy should be doing, but they aren't because they are stupid."

   She looked through her rifle scope and located Jorge.  He chuckled when
he saw where she was aiming.  "Take off your safety."

   "But.  Sir?"

   He grabbed her by her belt and lifted her midsection from the ground
where she lay.  Her buckle broke from the strain and with the release of
energy so did her pants buttons.  He jerked her belt down to her knees and
the pants followed.

   She again felt the familiar pain of an unsympathetic penis ravaging her
dry vagina from behind.  But he was thirteen.  Her canal wasn't dry long.
She felt him spasm quickly into her then, still buried inside her he
grabbed the rifle from her hands.  Three quick shots rang out, and he
ripped himself from her and ran back to camp, dropping her rifle to the
ground beside her.

   Her bare ass still waving in the air she picked up the rifle and looked
down the scope.  Jose had shot Jorge in the head and chest, all three
bullets making their marks.  Then she rotated just enough to see that boy
who had just raped her pointing in her direction and talking excitedly to
Commander Reuben.

   She shook her head.  Her gun, still in her possession.  She would be
shot for this and Jose would rise to Jorge's former spot.  What was she
thinking?  No, he wouldn't.

   She sighted down the scope.  She squeezed the trigger just a hair's
breadth and in the optics, Jose's fore head exploded all over Reuben.  A
feeling of superiority swept through her and she pulled the trigger yet
again.  Reuben had ducked, but instead of taking the shot in his stomach,
the lead buried itself into his neck, severing his carotid artery and
spraying blood all over the scrambling boys and girls of her troop.

   Instantly the bullets streamed past her.  Mikala tripped in her pants as
she struggled to find purchase from them.  It still had not really hit her
what she had just done.  The camp was in a total panic.  The stray gun fire
was suppressive at best.  No one was aiming at her.  They were shooting
blindly and diving for cover.

   She quickly shucked the pants from her boots.  The they were just
slowing her down anyway.  Nothing but her garrison cap, a dirty shirt,
regimen jacket, her boots, her AK-47 and her supply pack, she ran leaving
her pants lay on the ground.

   She didn't know where to run to.  She had seen a map with colored
markings but could she remember which way to that river?  She thought for a
second when she was far enough from the panic of the camp not to hear the
random gun fire and screams of the now leaderless army of children.

   With no one to lead them they would stay in that camp until they starved
to death.

   Her focus refined back to her memory of the map, now clearer than before
in her mind.  She redrew it into the dirt of the ground.  She retraced the
steps they had already came and forced herself to remember which direction
the sun went down to keep her bearings.

   The river would be just ahead.  She when she stood, the dried semen
tried to rip her raw skin.  Gingerly she rubbed dirt into the chaffed skin
to try to help alleviate some of the pain.  It helped a little as the dust
was wet by the ooze of the burning skin and dried back into a muddy stain
on her legs.

   For good measure, before she started back on the trail she sprayed a
bush in front of her with urine, then dusted her whole crotch down.  She
would be able to wash it off soon enough.

   The sounds of the un-commanded older children trying to hunt her down
echoed clumsily behind her and she started quietly in a run toward the
river.

   She out ran them again quick enough but to her dismay when she reached
the river, she was on a cliff nearly one hundred feet above the surface of
the water.  The cliff didn't seem to end in either direction for miles. 
She pulled her supply pack from her back and pulled a pair of gloves and a
thin but long nylon rope from it.

   She had never used it to rappel, only to bring water from the bottom of
wells in her canteen.  On a whim she also checked the canteen and it was
empty.

   She tied the line to a decent sized tree and threw the rope over the
edge.  It splashed in the water and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She
wasn't sure what she would have done if it wasn't long enough.

   Her fear subsided momentarily as she pulled the gloves over her fingers.
She zipped her jacket and wrapped the rope around her, keeping the rope
away from her bare inner legs, she started down the sheer edge slowly. 
Only looking down far enough below her to watch where her boots were
finding a place to hold.  She also had to avoid the branches that
threatened to hurt her more.

   Slowly she made the decent.

   Before she knew it, though, her boot found water.  The relief flooded
over her.  She found a ledge and stripped completely down, wondering now
what to do about not having her trousers.

   She washed her shirt and hung it over a limb next to her.  If it came to
it she would use the shirt as a skirt.  Silently she waded into the water.
She welcomed the cold as it soothed the burn of her skin.  She relieved
herself again and made sure she was clean.

   She never really took her eye off of the top of the rope.  It would be a
yellow flag waving to her followers, and she really had no where to hide
from gun fire.

   Starting to redress, the shirt still was damp but she buttoned it around
her legs, using the sleeves as a belt.  The buttons made it too tight, she
wouldn't be able to walk like this.  She twisted the shirt so that the
buttons were up the side of her leg like a split skirt, then left them
unbuttoned.  Her face turned red at how much of her leg showed, but then
she had just been walking through this wooded area completely bottomless
and had just bathed in the open.

   She zipped her pack after refilling her canteen and strapped it to her
over her jacket, then hiked the rifle over her shoulder.

   She crossed the river to the other bank before stopping to lace the dry
boots back to her bare feet.  She was on the last knot as she heard the
voices over the cliff, calling back to the rest of the following troop. 
They had found the rope.

   Rifles erupted just as she ran into the cover of the trees on her side
of the bank.  Once there she pulled the rifle from her shoulder.  She
pulled the black covers from the scope and sat on her rump in the gravel.
Bracing the rifle with her knees, she tried to remember how Commander
Isaiah had taught her how to shoot from a long distance.

   She checked the leaves of the trees of the older boy who seemed to have
taken command.  She knew of him, but didn't know his name.  She had only
felt him inside her a couple of times.  Her burning legs flared back to a
live fire again.  Her anger built.

   She drew a long breath, lining the very bottom red line on the reticle
in her scope with his face, then moving two notches to the left for the
breeze that was blowing.  As she exhaled slowly she drew her finger to to
trigger and tugged.  The pin snapped and the shell exploded sending the
shaftless arrow to her target.

   She watched in the scope as the back of the boys head shattered in a
spray of red and he fell from the edge of the cliff over the side, tumbling
hopelessly, and splashing into her outdoor bath violently.

   "Damn.  That was supposed to be in his eye."

   Mikala had managed to hide in a crevasse in the side of the cliff until
the morning light.  She went back to the rope to see if her pursuers had
cut it down, and strangely they had not.  In fact the boy she had shot, was
still on the bank.  She figured he would have already washed past her in
the river, but she was happy to see the his rifle and his pack were still
intact.

   She scavenged his pack for rations and his rifle clips.  She only had
four bullets left.  This boy had three more magazines and a whole box of
the shells in his pack.  He also had a pistol on his belt.

   She had hoped to take his pants, but there was no way to wear them, but
she did take his belt which would ease keeping the shirt around her waist.

   She wondered what to do next.

   She knew they would continue to hunt for her.  Should she skirt them and
take them one by one?  She grinned, that would be a steady supply of
ammunition.  But what if another regimen came to aid them.  She surely
would be no match for someone that much older than her.

   She considered her training some more and decided to try to climb the
rope.  Again the gloves were pulled over her fingers and she started to
pull her self back up the way she had come down.

   It was so much harder to ascend.  The rope kept finding itself between
her raw legs.  Her raw pussy felt better today.  If she could stay away
from them, she might never be raped again.  She shrugged off that thought.
It didn't matter that much.  Lately it wasn't hurting like it used to, in
fact, if they could last a bit longer before they squirted inside her, she
might enjoy it more.

   But they never did.

   As she topped the cliff, her arms cramping, she heard gun fire in the
distance.  Carefully she ran toward the camp and flanked into the trees. 
She actually found her perch from the day before and took the caps off her
scope to watch the drama unfold below her.  She had noticed that her pants
were still there but shredded into tiny strips of cloth.  Unusable.  In her
scope the signs were undeniable.

   Feds.

   The black fatigues were shooting anything that moved.  There was only a
dozen or so of them, but they were decimating her old camp.  There could
only be about twenty of her regimen left.  Mostly the young girls like her.

   She watched as the Feds rounded the now unarmed girls into a herd in the
middle of the tents.

   The dust was blowing enough to keep the drama from being too familiar to
her.  but the scene was all too familiar.  If a girl resisted she was shot
in the head then raped anyway.  If not, they would be raped by several men
then shot.

   This burned through Mikala.  She had carried both rifles from the river.
Her's being equipped for the long shots, and she was sure they would come
for her before she would finish it's clip, but the other would be waiting,
as would the pistol.

   She did a dry run of the shooting path she would take once she started
pulling the trigger.  If none moved too far, she might be able to log eight
of them before they started running for cover and trying to find her.

   One more dry run to pick up some speed and then she started pulling the
trigger.  Sight the target, pull the trigger, then move to the next target.
Don't slow down to see the damage done.

   Nine men and one miss.  Her magazine was empty.  They were running but
not for her yet.  She ejected the clip and shoved a full one back in it's
place.

   She caught another in a shoulder.  Then finished him off with a head
shot once he was one the ground.

   A heavy machine gun started ripping the trees apart above her head.  She
had to stop it.

   Once she zeroed in on the source it was an APC.  An American model.  A
Browning .50 caliber was being fed bullets by a second man while the first
squinted into the trees above her.

   Not good.  If she didn't hit him with the first shot he would see where
she shot from and kill her before she could fire a second round.

   There was nothing around them to calculate the wind.  Wait.  The dust.

   She grinned at her luck and notched in his face with her reticle.  The
round erupted and silenced the heavy machine gun, peeling the top of the
man's scalp from his forehead and spraying the man feeding the bullets with
blood and grey matter.

   Four more shots and the black fatigues were all but on the group, only
two remaining to flee.

   She ran from her tree and fired three shots with the pistol, sending one
man's kneecap through the front of his pants.  The other man took a shot to
the shoulder but kept running instead of helping his fallen comrade.

   Turn about was fair play, she had once heard.

   She hovered over the man who was screaming in pain and holding what was
left of his knee, zipper still allowing the nasty horse it's freedom from
his raping one of her regimen.

   She straddled him, rifle and pistol inches from his head.  The few girls
that were left gathered around her, expecting her to fill him full of lead.

   She handed the unscoped rifle to the girl closest to her, a girl she had
talked to while doing laundry a few times, named Isabel.

   Mikala holstered her pistol and handed the man's rifle to a girl on her
right.  She didn't pay attention to who she was.  But the sharp bayonet was
at the man's throat quickly.

   Mikala undid the belt and untied the sleeves of her shirt tying them
again around her shoulders instead.

   She looked around her and counted eight smiling faces.  They knew what
she was going to do.  She was going to be the one doing the raping this
time.

   One by one each girl took a hold of hands or feet and struggled to shuck
the man's pants from his loins.  She dropped on him, his limp member
causing him a world of pain against her now moist crack.  She ground on
him.

   The other girls kicked and pistol whipped him, and yet he rose to the
occasion.  She rammed down on top of his growing flesh and forced him deep
into her.  She started to gyrate the way her body told her to.  The way she
was moving was sure to be causing him more pain than pleasure as she was
feeling his prick pop with each downward stroke.  He winced in pain, his
yellow teeth showing his discomfort.

   That's when she felt it building.  A feeling she had never felt before.
Her stomach quivered, her belly feeling like she needed to pee.  Instead,
something else happened.  She started feeling like she was falling.  She
hopped to the balls of her feet, coming up from her knees and bounced on
his entire length.  She screamed in pleasure.

   When her special feeling had started to subside she looked around her to
the shocked faces of the other girls.  She knew there had to be something
in this sex thing for girls to feel too.  Who knew it felt so good?

   She plucked a pen knife from the pocket of her jacket and drew the blade
out and locked it in place.  She jabbed him just barely above his stick
that was still buried into her.

   She grabbed him and held him into her and started yanking on him.  The
other girls pulled in the opposite direction.  She stabbed him again
between his sagging sack and his butthole.

   Again she struggled to yank on his penis.

   She had seen this done to some boys that had disobeyed orders, but of
course it is much easier for grown men to perpetrate this on a little boy
than it is for a little girl to return the favor.

   She felt it tear as he screamed in agony yet again.  Again she tugged.
And again.  And again.

   His intestines were being drawn out into the sunlight and dragged in the
dust.

   With his entrails still buried inside her, she worked her feet apart and
a stream of urine pelted his open guts.  A cheer rose from the girls who
jumped to squat themselves over the dying man and piss on him as well.

   Liberated.

   She dragged the detached meat from inside of her stuck into her mouth
and bit down on it like a piece of jerky.  The mans nerves must have still
been intact as he let out a primal scream that echoed in the hills.

   She ground her teeth and chewed until she finally bit the cock in two.
She stuffed it into his own mouth, drew her pistol and shot him in the
stomach.  She walked away.

   Turning back to the girls who were now in turn kicking and defecating on
him as he died, she shouted, "Who is with me?"

   Each of the girls now formed a line and stood at attention.

   "My name is Commander Mikala Contrarez.  I am the commander of the Los
Azteca de Nina.  Who is with me?"

   Every girl answered, "Sir, yes Sir."

   "Decamp and scavenge all former members of our troop.  All arms into
that APC.  I'll try to get it started up in the meantime.  Mount up!"
   "Sir, yes Sir!"