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 With A Whimper By Oldmudrat

   Chapter 8

   The kitchen was long, almost two-thirds the length of the house, and
almost thirty feet wide.  The north wall had a full-length counter,
overhead cabinets and two sinks.  There were also two wide windows spaced
evenly along the north wall.  The west wall had more cabinets and counter
space, an electric range, a gas range and two doorways leading into the
living room and hallway.  The gas range could be converted to burn either
wood or coal with a little time and work.  The east wall had still more
cabinets and counter space, a long bank of windows looking out onto the
river, a door that opened onto the back porch and a door which lead to the
utility and laundry room.  Along the south wall were two doors.  One door
led into a bath and the other led into a short hallway, which also opened
into the bath, to Granddad's bedroom.  A thin video screen hung on the wall
between the two doors.  The controls for the video and sound system were on
shelves made from concrete blocks and lengths of 1x12 lumber under the
screen.  Two café-style tables and chairs, a long table which would seat
eight, a small couch and four side chairs completed the décor.

   Not for the first time I thought that for a man who did not welcome
visitors Granddad sure did have accommodations for them.

   There were low conversations going on in the kitchen.  Everyone seemed
to be talking about something different.

   From somewhere Kathy had found a camp-style coffeepot and a bag of
ground coffee.  She had left them setting on the counter.  Sarah had filled
the pot with water and loaded the grounds.  She was just turning on the gas
burner when we walked into the kitchen.  Sarah kept up a conversation with
two of the new women who were getting out cups for everyone about how
surprised they were with the size of the kitchen.

   Captain Hill folded his jacket over the back of a chair and took a seat
at the long table.  He rested his elbows on the table and waited.

   Doc and Tim were moving medication vials from the cooler to the
refrigerator.

   The kid -- a girl of about ten, maybe eleven years -- was sitting in the
lap of the other new woman at the far end of the table.  The woman had her
arms protectively around the girl.  The young girl kept looking at all the
activity as if she was not sure what to make of it.

   Jennifer was talking with Tim and Doc.  I could not hear them over the
other voices.

   Kathy moved to the stove, leaned the rifle against a cabinet and checked
the flame.  "Coffee will be ready in a few minutes, Jimmy.  Y'all want to
something to eat?"

   "Something light and quick," Doc said closing the refrigerator door. 
"We brought along the last ham, a twenty-pounder, from the hospital's
freezer.  I had been saving it, but now seemed like a good time."

   One of the newly arrived women said, "There are also instant potatoes,
big cans of carrots, beans and creamed corn."

   "Oh, Jimmy, let me introduce you to everyone," Doc Cleveland said.  He
motioned to the woman who had spoke, "This is Maggie Taylor," next was the
woman helping Kathy with the coffee, "Dianne Lee," then the woman holding
the child, "Mary Porter and the little beauty in her lap is Faith Garrett."

   All of the new arrivals still had that haunted look of survivors about
them.

   Maggie was a red head with blue eyes.  She looked to be in the
mid-twenties.  Maggie had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and full
lips.  Freckles were barely visible across the bridge of her nose and
cheeks.  An over-sized shirt hid the true size of her breasts, but I could
tell they were at least more than a double-handful.

   Dianne looked to be the youngest of the three women.  She looked like
she should still be in high school.  I found out later that she was twenty
years old and had two years of university education before the Flu.  Her
family was from Vietnam and had come to the U.S.  in 1976.  They had lived
in this area since 1980.  Dianne's black hair was waist length.  She was
perfectly proportioned for her small frame.

   Mary was twenty-four, four inches shorter than my six-feet, naturally
curly black hair cut close to her head, flawless chocolate skin and eyes
that were deep pools of ocean blue.  Her eyes were surprising at first
glance, as you don't expect that shade of blue - or any shade of blue - in
someone of Mary's ethnic heritage.

   Faith was a ten year old with blond hair that hung limply to her
shoulders.  Her brown eyes looked old, as if her childhood had died.  When
you consider all that this young child had been through and seen recently,
it probably had.

   I said `hello' to everyone then kneeled beside Mary and Faith.

   "Hello, Faith.  I am glad to meet you."

   Faith burrowed deeper into Mary's arms.

   "She's a bit shy," Mary said, hugging the child closer.  Mary started to
say something and I could see her change her mind.  Instead, she said, "We
appreciate you taking us in, Doctor Greer.  When Doc Cleveland came by this
morning . . ."

   "I'm glad to have you all here, Mary," I said with a smile at Faith, who
was peeking at me.  "It is much better to have friends around and there is
lots of room here for Faith to play." I wondered if we could give this
young girl some of her childhood back or if it was lost forever.

   "Coffee, Jimmy?" Kathy set my cup and one for Mary on the table.  She
also had a glass with ice and cola.  "And this is for you, honey." She set
the glass before Faith.  "There are only a couple of cases of cola, so
enjoy it."

   Kathy smiled as Faith reached for the glass and took a sip.

   I stood, picked up my cup and took a seat where I could talk with
Captain Hill.  Kathy gave Hill a cup and sat beside me.  The others also
joined us around the table.

   "O.K., Captain, let's hear your story," I said.

   For the next twenty minutes I listened as Hill spoke.  All the others,
including Doc Cleveland and Tim, had heard this last night.

   Captain Hill had left Redstone Arsenal near Huntsville, Alabama, two
days ago along with two other survivors, the loaded M-813, a XM1091 fuel
tanker and an armored M-114 HUMVEE.  Hill was a native of Iuka.  The other
two survivors were from out west, Wyoming and California, and agreed to go
with Hill as he tried to make his way home.

   Huntsville was a burned out city.  Hill explained that fuel storage
tanks for an oil company caught fire and with no one to fight the fire it
had spread throughout much of the city.  Before the fire he said there had
been two hundred or so survivors.  After the fire had burned itself out, he
did not know how many were still alive.

   Hill did know of a group of ten others that had decided to make their
way east to Chattanooga or north to Nashville.  They were hoping that a
larger city would still have resources available.  Hill and his two
companions from Redstone decided that a large city would just be another
kind of deathtrap.  What they wanted was a smaller town with farm land
already cleared.  That was when Hill talked the others into going to Iuka.
Hill knew the area well and it was unlikely that the other two would make
it to their homes out west.

   It was only a little over one hundred miles from Huntsville to Iuka. 
They drove through Athens, Alabama, without incident and without seeing
anyone.  The smaller towns along Highway 72 were also deserted.

   It was not until they arrived in Florence, Alabama, that their luck went
to hell.  The engine of the fuel tanker threw a piston rod and stopped dead
in downtown Florence.  The three had been gathered around the 813 trying to
decide what to do when gunfire slammed into the cargo truck.  One of the
men was killed in the first volley, a clean head shot.  The other man was
wounded in the chest.  Hill returned fire as best he could and dragged the
wounded man into the truck's cab and took off, under fire until he was out
of sight.  He drove across the Lee Bridge over the Tennessee River and kept
on going.

   Finally, once clear of the city he pulled the truck behind a Midas
Muffler shop.  Using a field first aid pack, Hill bandaged his companion's
wounds.  A chest wound demands a hospital and a surgeon if there is to be
any chance of survival.  There was no hospital and no surgeon.  The wounded
man died within the hour.

   After dark, Hill left his truck and walked the ten or so miles to Wilson
Dam.  The dam is a hydro-electric and flood control dam on the Tennessee
built more than ninety years ago.  It provides electric power to the grid
that covers parts of three states.  He got within a half-mile of the dam
before he saw an armed patrol of five men.

   "It was a dumb thing to do, looking back on it," Hill said.  "But, damn
it, I was mad.  There was no reason for them to shoot at us.  Like I said,
I was mad and wanted a little payback.  I followed the men close enough to
hear them talk, until they got to a house just south of the dam."

   He stopped to drink from his cup.

   "So there are people in Florence?" I asked.

   "Yes.  Forty-two . . .  that I know for sure.  Twenty-five men and
seventeen women.  They were staying in houses near the south end of the dam
and at the dam itself.  I could see movement on the north bank, but I could
not tell much about it."

   "How were they armed?  Any military among them?"

   "Small arms.  An assortment of hunting rifles, shotguns and M-16s," Hill
answered.  "Of course, they have the fifty-caliber from the Humvee now.  I
don't think there is a military man among them.  Their security was too
lax."

   "Good enough to ambush you, Captain," I said and immediately regretted
baiting him.

   Hill grimaced.  "I let my guard down and got sloppy.  Florence, east and
north of the railroad, was a burned out shell when we drove through. 
Downtown looked like a tornado had gone through it.  I did not expect
anyone in the area.  That's a mistake I'm not likely to make again, Doctor
Greer."

   I nodded.

   Hill continued, "This bunch in Florence will probably stay put until the
food runs out; especially if they have the know-how to keep the dam
operational.  Power and food will keep them tied to the dam for a time. 
The men will keep themselves occupied with the women." He glanced at little
Faith.  "You want the details . . .  now?"

   I shook my head.  I could pretty much imagine the details myself.  "No.
Later maybe."

   Hill had told his story without any drama.

   "Anyway, there's how I ended up driving into town yesterday," Hill said.
"When I got to the hospital, they were just starting to load what they
could.  I recognized Doctor Caldwell, met the others, and told them what I
just told you with the details.  They invited me to come along this
morning.

   "If you don't want me here, Doctor Greer, I will leave.  This is your
place and I'll understand.  I have enough supplies to see me through and I
am sure that there is a vacant farm closer to town."

   "That is not a decision for just me to make, Captain Hill," I said.  I
looked at the others.  "This may be my great-grandfather's farm, mine now I
suppose, but it is Ours.  Whatever each of us brings to the group will be
used to ensure that we all survive.  We need to talk about it."

   "O.K.  Why don't I just step outside," Hill said, "while you do that?"

   With a nod to all, Hill walked out the back door.

   I was occupied by my own thought for several minutes, as I'm sure were
the others.

   Finally, I said, "Well, what do you all think?  Doc, how well do you
know the Captain?"

   "He grew up here," Doc said.  "I delivered him myself.  His folks were
honest, hard-working people.  His mother was a seamstress at the Levi
factory before it was moved to Mexico.  She then went back to college and
trained as a nurse.  His father worked with the Highway Department until he
retired.  Both died during the first pass of the Flu.  Peter got himself a
scholarship at Georgia Tech and joined the army a couple of years after
graduation.  He has been back home many times over the years to check on
his folks or just visit.  Unless he has changed drastically from the way he
was as a young man, I say that he will be a big asset to us.  That's not
even taking into consideration all the stuff in that truck out there."

   "I don't know the man," Kathy said, "but I did know his parents.  They
were good people."

   It turned out that none of the others personally knew Peter Hill.  But
those who were at the hospital when Hill arrived were impressed with him.

   Or maybe they were more impressed with what Hill had in the truck.

   At any rate, it was decided to let Hill stay.  Hell, I even voted for it
much to my dismay.

   ------------------------------------------

   The men spent the rest of the afternoon unloading the pickups.  We
didn't even try to tackle Hill's massive truck and I told him to just pull
it into the barn for the night.  The women, including little Faith, put
everything away and worked on preparing the evening meal.  I didn't know
how they divided up duties and responsibilities, but they seemed to get the
job done with little fuss and bother.

   Now, there were twelve people living at the farm.  Seven women,
including Faith, and five men.  The house has seven bedrooms, six upstairs
and Granddad's bedroom downstairs.  There also is a small two bedroom
apartment on the second floor of the barn.  Assuming that someone didn't
mind staying in the barn, that meant nine bedrooms for twelve people.  If
we all tried to live in the house, it was seven bedrooms for twelve people.

   The women decided who would sleep where.  They were nice enough to ask
me which bedroom I preferred (I chose the bedroom at the head of the
stairs) and if I minded Doc staying in my great-grandfather's bedroom off
the kitchen.  Considering Doc's age and size I thought that he would
appreciate not having to deal with the stairs and agreed.

   I took the time to go through each room of the house and remove the
weapons that Granddad had hidden in them.  Each room had a pistol and
either a rifle or shotgun ready for use.  This was something that Granddad
had shown me when I first spent an entire summer at the place.  He offered
no explanation as to why these weapons were readily available.  He just
made sure that I knew they were there and how to use them.  He also made
sure that I knew what would happen to me if he ever caught me `playing'
with them.  It only took once and I never forgot the `lesson' that
followed.

   Faith Garrett and Mary Porter would share a bedroom.  The little girl
seemed welded to Mary's side.  Sam and Sarah Miles would share another. 
Jennifer Nolan and Kathy would officially share a bedroom.  Maggie Taylor
and Dianne Lee would share a room.  Tim Wilson and Captain Hill each had
one of the smaller upstairs bedrooms.  These bedrooms were adjoining and
toward the front of the house.  My bedroom was situated where I could keep
an eye on the stairway.

   Like I said, I don't know how the women decided on this division -- one
which ostensibly gave each man a separate bedroom -- but I was not going to
argue about it.  It did place Hill where he could not wander the house at
night without alerting someone, either Tim or me.  Looking back on it, I
think that unconsciously I did not fully trust Hill at the time.  At any
rate, I was satisfied with what the women had decided.

   Nothing was said about who `slept' with whom.  I think we were just all
glad to have a safe place.

   The meal that evening was great.  The best I had eaten in many weeks. 
The ham had been given a honey glaze.  From cans the women had prepared
candied yams, black-eyed peas and creamed corn.  Conversation during the
meal was slow to start, but once started was friendly.

   Afterward all of us except Captain Hill pitched in and cleaned up.

   By then it was a couple of hours before sunset.  I reminded everyone to
turn off the lights when a room was not being used to conserve the limited
power generated by the solar panels and the water turbines.

   Tim and I went to the barn and did the evening chores.  When we finished
I turned everything off there and we went back to the house to clean up.

   Kathy found me a bit later in Granddad's study.  The house was quiet as
everyone else had gone to their bedrooms.  Outside it was full dark by now
and I had decided to keep Granddad's tradition of a journal alive.  I was
seated at his desk just completing my entry in his latest tome.

   Kathy, covered in a knee-length terry cloth robe, stepped behind my
chair and put her arms around my neck.  She wormed one hand under my shirt
and said, "It's been a long day, Jimmy.  Why don't you come to bed?"

   I leaned my head back against her and she kissed my forehead.

   "I'm almost done here," I said.

   "Finish tomorrow," Kathy suggested and began unbuttoning my shirt.  She
rubbed her cheek against mine.

   I took a long deep breath and pulled her around to settle in my lap.

   "Everyone settled down for the night?" I asked.

   Kathy nodded and pulled my lips to hers.  With a sigh she used her lips
to tease, to promise.

   "We'll have to be quiet," I whispered as she licked along my jaw. 
"Wouldn't want to disturb the others."

   "Screw them," she whispered.  "Or rather screw me.  They'll just have to
get used to it." She pushed my shirt off my shoulders.  "It's awfully close
quarters here, Jimmy." Her hands rubbed across my chest, fingers pinched my
nipples.  "There are a lot of things we will all have to get used to."

   I parted her robe.  With a shrug of her shoulders it fell to the floor.
I cupped her butt and she pressed her bare groin against my rapidly firming
cock.  I guided her hips in small circles.

   "Here I am all naked," she said, "and you still have your pants on.  You
had better catch up, Jimmy."

   I cupped her breasts and twirled fingers around her nipples.  "Help me
keep up," I said.

   She giggled.  "Keep up?  I can feel that it is up."

   Her fingers were now busy with my belt and zipper.  She lifted slightly
and pushed my pants below my knees.

   Suddenly she was pressing again on me.  My cock was erect between our
bodies and she moved to rub it across her clit.  Already I could feel her
moisture flow.

   She put both of her hands on the side of my face, pushing her tongue
into my mouth.  I welcomed her intrusion with one of my own.

   She formed her lips into a tight pout and began moving her head back and
forth, fucking herself in the mouth with my tongue.

   I ran my hands down her body, feeling the smooth, hot skin of her back,
and I cupped her buttocks and squeezed her to me.

   My desire flamed higher.

   I picked her up and sat her on the desk, her hips right at the edge. 
Her legs spread open and I could see beads of wetness on her cunt lips. 
Her eyes were demanding, her breathing urgent and her body inviting.  I
enjoyed the sight before me, a woman's body in full health and desire.

   I bent over and brought my mouth on one nipple while caressing the
junction of her thighs.  She moaned and arched her breast into my mouth. 
One hand grasped the back on my head and pulled my mouth down harder on her
breast.

   I moved one hand up her body and enveloped her other breast, rubbing the
nipple with my thumb.  My other hand covered her cunt and fingers traced
the limits of that moist treasure.

   I kissed my way from her breast to stomach to pubic mound.  Her skin
tasted of salt, tangy with want.

   I took her thighs in my hands and held them wide apart and dipped my
head down, covering her cunt with my mouth.  I nipped, licked and teased
the sensitive flesh, adding a good bit to the wetness already present. 
Alternating long licks and little nibbles soon had her thrusting upwards,
begging for more.

   Glancing up I could see that she had both of her hands squeezing her
breasts as she fell back onto the desktop.  Eyes closed and mouth open, she
grunted with each trip my tongue made along the length of her opening.

   Muscles tightened as she arched up off the desktop and the taste of her
cunt juice became sweeter.  I ran the tip of my tongue back and forth
through the opening and tasted her inner core.

   "AGGGGGHHHHHH!" The muffled screamed escaped from her.  "God, that's
good . . .  so goooooood . . .  just keeps getting better . . .  every time
just keeps getting better . . .  ah . . .  ah . . ."

   I flicked my tongue rapidly across her clit and she bounced and writhed
on the desk, waves of motion traveling through her body from her shoulders
to her hips, driving her cunt up at my mouth with spastic snaps of muscles.

   I hung on as best I could and kept stroking her clit with my tongue,
driving her through that climax and to the climb towards the next.

   Her moans finally diminished to groans as the orgasms drained away her
strength.  Her movements became weaker and her body collapsed as her
breasts heaved in shuddering gasps for air.

   She pulled my head upward.  I settled on her between her unresisting
thighs.

   She buried her face against my neck, her heart pounding.  "That . . . 
was quick . . .  Damn!"

   I held her in my arms as the pounding of her heart and laboring of her
lungs for air gradually subsided, and she moaned deep in her throat as she
ran her fingers into my hair and pulled my lips down to hers.  We kissed,
her mouth hot and sweet as our tongues caressed softly.  She took her lips
from mine, the she reached down to cup my butt and pull me closer.  She
humped her hips gently, rubbing my cock against her skin.  "I believe it is
now your turn, Jimmy.  Here or in bed?"

   To Be Continued . . .

   (September 16, 2005) http://storiesonline.net/auth/oldmudrat