The Devolution of Human Society

[BellaMiles]

The Devolution
of
Human Society​

The people of Earth were still suffering through the COVID-19 crisis when news of the approaching alien spacecraft went public. As if they hadn't had enough to worry about after 8 years of the pandemic and still steadily increasing death rates.

Some people and governments wanted to believe that an extraterrestrial race with obviously advanced scientific knowledge wouldn't cross the vast expanse of space with hostile intentions.

They were wrong.

Even before it had passed the orbit of the Moon, the spacecraft began using long range, highly accurate lasers to disable the artificial satellites in orbit of Earth. Telecommunications began to fail. Internet, entertainment, and other information services disappeared. The Hubble telescope deorbited and crashed into the Pacific Ocean. The astronauts of the International Space Station barely escaped after it lost power and met the same fate as Hubble. China's Tiangong station was even less fortunate, with its newly arrived crew of three being lost.

By the time the alien ship got near enough to Earth that the Sun's light could be seen reflecting off it at night, the attacks on the objects in orbit had moved to objects on the ground. Just about anything and everything that produced an electronic signal was attacked early on.

Attacks on military equipment came next: ICBMs, carriers, submarines, bombers, fighters, rocket launchers, tanks, artillery, and even Humvees, armed or not. Some were destroyed, while others were simply disabled, becoming little more than very large paper weights. Some troops were killed as collateral damage in the attacks on their equipment, but there were very few attacks on troop units themselves.

Many governments around the world had attempted to fight back and, when possible, would continued to do so in the future. None succeeded. ICBMs fired into higher orbits to damage the alien ship were destroyed before they left the atmosphere. Experimental ground laser weapons in the United States, Russia, and China, which had until now been classified, were fired at the ship as it passed overhead. The result was no damage to the ship and, as could be expected, the destruction of the laser weapons instead.

For 23 days, while orbiting 400 miles above with a firing range covering the entire planet, the alien ship used lasers and later physical bombs and missiles, to ultimately destroy almost anything and everything military. There was nothing of significance left that was electronic: communication dishes, cell towers, radio and television broadcast systems. All gone. Any building or other structure that seemed to have any connection to government, military, scientific research, etc., was destroyed.

The destruction was now moving onto other man-made objects: bridges, skyscrapers, solar power arrays, windfarms, dams, port docks, and so much more. Tens, even hundreds of thousands of people were being killed, and yet the attacks still didn't seem to be directed at the people of Earth themselves.

In fact, it seemed as if the aliens were giving the Human's a heads up sometimes about their attacks. In New York City, a high rise under construction and therefore without a resident population was the first to be attacked. People in neighboring skyscrapers and the neighborhoods in which they were located fled, and only after many hours, did the now vacant buildings come under attack. Tens of millions, billions could have been lost but weren't.

Still, the tragedy was unimaginable. No longer safe and secure in their homes, particularly in urban areas, people began to suffer from exposure, starvation, disease, and violence at the hands of their neighbors. Across many communities in many countries, armed gangs rose to power over their neighbors.

Those who escaped to the rural areas were fortunate to avoid much of this Human caused misery. But even they faced issues: there was little food unless you could hunt; there was no access to medical services unless you or one of your group supplied it; and while far from the growing militias, violent people who wanted what you had were still hard to avoid.

It is in this world that we find...


(Please do not post without asking for permission. That seems fair I think.)

 

[BellaMiles]

March 2028

Connie Weist
19 years old
5'4", 110#, petite
Auburn hair, deep green eyes
University student (online); organic agriculture.
Cashier, grocery store

Since the middle of February, Connie had watched the destruction of her world take place bit by bit. Wifi at home, broadband out and about, the internet, television, radio, even electrical power were all lost, one after another, sometimes days apart, sometimes on the same day.

She'd been living on a USAF base outside Phoenix, Arizona, with her widowed grandfather, a retired USAF pilot who'd raised her since her parents' untimely death by auto accident a decade earlier. He'd correctly guessed they weren't safe there after reports that other bases had been targeted. They were barely out the gate, heading for the mountains, when death and destruction began raining down on the base in their rear view.

Phoenix would go next, with the alien ship using lasers and bombs against it every time its orbit brought it overhead. Connie and her grandfather couldn't know that once their home town was out of firing range, the ship would begin to assault the next major city, then the next, continuing all the way around the globe without pause. Over days, months, and even years ahead, the ship would continue to destroy anything that spoke of Human advancement.

But that was to come later. Today, the damage was being done to their car. An electromagnetic pulse would kill its computer, along with computers and other electronics all across the southwest. They would continue forward on foot, but after just one day, Connie's grandfather would speak of chest pain, sit down for a rest, and die of a heart attack, leaving her alone.

There were others on the road, but she'd been warned by her departed grandfather not to trust anyone. So Connie had continued northward, and halfway to Prescott she took a trail to the east, uphill, until she was standing before the little one room cabin that she, her father, and her grandfather had built over years of hiking vacations together.

Connie had survived the alien assault of Earth, so far anyway. But would she be able to survive much longer? She had fresh water from an artesian well, and enough food for a couple of weeks. She was no stranger to hunting, and had both a 20 gauge shotgun and a nearly full box of birdshot rounds and a .22 rifle with both a 20 round box of rat shot and two 50 round boxes of long rifle. And while she wasn't very good with her father's compound bow, Connie thought she could learn to use it if she just practiced on a daily basis.

Walking out to a bluff that looked off to the hills and valley to the southwest, Connie's real concern wasn't whether or not she could survive out here alone in what most thought of a wasteland. Her concern was whether or not she wanted to, alone.

 

[BellaMiles]

Magnolia "Maggie" Davidson
38 years old
5'8", 144#, well rounded (sexy); very beautiful
Light brunette hair bleached blonde, hazel eyes
Widowed rich bitch, seriously; socialite on a few corporate boards


Maggie had never imagined that one day she would be destitute.

On paper, she wasn't poor; on paper, or rather, on computer and in data bases all around the world, she was still rich as fuck. But then, there weren't any computers any more, at least, not functioning ones. All of Maggie's data base wealth, her invisible money, was gone.

In those data bases, Maggie owned the six bedroom, ranch style home outside of which she was now standing. That home stood atop a bluff that was surrounded by 42 acres of arid but beautiful, rocky land, also hers. Those acres that were surrounded by 1,240 acres of grazing land, on which sheep and goats feed. That land and those animals belonged to her deceased husband's corporation which, on paper, was now hers.

On paper or in those data bases, Maggie had nearly $4 million dollars in banks scissor across 6 countries, another $12 million in stocks and bonds in 4 marketplaces, and 8 times all of that in shares of both her first and second husbands' multinational corporations.

And yet, none of that meant shit now!

The alien attack on Earth had erased all evidence of her ownership of all of that wealth. Hell, it had erased her ownership of the property she was standing on now, as well if her home on it, despite the fact that she'd been living here for the past decade and a half.

Maggie had always lived comfortably, here and in previous locations before her marriages. Her parents had been what most people would call well off. They'd died when she was a young woman, leaving her well off, too. She'd married into even more money, twice! Each of her husbands had died early in the marriages, leaving her even more well off.

Maggie had expected that that meant she would always have access to all she ever needed or wanted. Now, though, none of that meant anything.

As she stood at the edge of the patio with her pool and then her home at her backside, she watched in horror and disbelief as the city of Flagstaff and other less identifiable locations burned before her. Pillars of black-gray rose almost straight skyward in a mostly windless day, then suddenly halted and sent their smoke and ash and other lightweight debris off to the east.

Thinking she heard someone call her name, Maggie turned, only to see no one at all. She'd sent her staff, a maid, an assisrant, and a groundskeeper/handyman, home to tend to their own families once the horror of what was happening became apparent. She hadn't really done it because she cared about their families; she'd done it because, honestly, she didn't want them around when they came to realize what she knew, that the concept of Law and Order and privacy and personal property were all void now. It was better, Maggie believed, not to now be surrounded by servants who she'd only ever paid minimum wage and, honestly, had never been very nice to.

How would they treat Maggie when they realized what she already had: law and order were no more; she was no longer the rich bitch who could ruin their lives with a single phone call or, in some cases, have them deported; that she couldn't make a call to the police or to a private security firm in Flagstaff and have a dozen armed people here in ten minutes; and that she had pantries and root cellars filled with food, drink, and more that were the only true wealth any more.

It was lonely now, of course. But Maggie thought it was safer. That was going to prove to be wrong soon enough, though.

 

[DeadManTyping]

(OOC: Thanks for the invitation.)

Dexter Peterson
31
6'2", 200, average build
Handsome, in a rugged way
Former Army Ranger (8 years)
Legitimate money came from a labor job on the Davidson estate.
Illegitimate money (more of it) came from gun and drug running


Dexter had been the only permanent member of Ms Davidson's household staff who hadn't been an illegal alien. They called them undocumented workers in the press these days, but whatever, they weren't real Americans and they shouldn't have been here. At least, that was how Dexter's father had raised him to think. Robert Peterson had been a true blue, redneck, racist white separatist, something Dexter had told himself he'd never become. Still, it was hard at times not to think like his father had when times were tough. It was always easy to blame others for your problems, and the easiest people to blame were those who weren't like you.
That was how racism worked, and it had been working well in America clean back to its beginnings.

It had made it easier for Dexter not to blame those different kind of people with whom he worked, though, because he'd liked each of them very well. Isabel, the maid, had been a beautiful, sexy, petite Latina, so incredible in fact that Dexter had pursued her sexually almost from the day he'd been hired. It had taken over three months to finally get his cock inside her, only to have the fucking aliens show up another three months later, just as the sex was getting interesting. Izzy was gone now, of course, returned to her own family, which as far as Dexter knew was hightailing its way back to Chihuahua.

And his boss's assistant had been useful as well, even if her skin was black as night and her accent very British, or Irish, or Scottish, or whatever. Paula had been very helpful in making introductions for Dexter. She'd known an unimaginable number of people in Flagstaff, Arizona, across the Southwest, across the country. Some of these people had been the type Dexter had assumed Magnolia Davidson wouldn't associate with. But then, rich people always seemed to know the right people, even when those right people were the wrong people.

Paula had been personally responsible for the great success of Dexter's illegal activities. He'd sold marijuana and guns before meeting the funny talking black lady, but soon had branched out into cocaine, heroin, opioids, and more with her help. Again, Paula was gone, as were most of Dexter's connections.

The only person on the Davidson estate who Dexter hadn't like was, you guessed it, Magnolia Davidson. He and Maggie, who refused to let him use that nickname despite most others doing so, had been at odds almost from the start of his employment. She hadn't liked the way he performed his duties in the yard, though, it was always professional looking once he was done.

She'd never complimented him, but then she'd never criticized him either. She hadn't approved of his leaving his tools all about when he broke for lunch or for the day either. Still, again, the work was professional, leaving her nothing to bitch about once he was done and the cleanup was complete.

And she certainly hadn't liked the way he ogled her when she was laying out on the patio catching some rays. How many times had she gone out to lay down only to have Dexter pick that time to clean the pool? Coincidence? No. No, not at all.

But Maggie had kept him on because he worked for minimum wage with no benefits and was more often than not available when she needed some errand run down in the city or even somewhere distant in the state. Of course, working for Maggie hadn't been Dexter's reason for working the estate. He would have been gone in a flash if it hadn't been for Paula's connections and Isabel warm, wet holes.

So, keeping all of that in mind, why the hell was Dexter now behind the wheel of his non-computer controlled, 1958 Ford pickup truck, heading for the Davidson estate? Well, the same reason that Maggie was content with being alone: she had stuff, and others would want it. Dexter was more than aware of his boss's amble stores as he'd carried most of them in from one of her many cars, from his own truck, or from the porch after the various online orders were left there by FedEx, UPS, USPS, or more recently the Amazon direct deliver service.

What was left of Flagstaff and its surrounding towns were being pillaged and looted by the survivors of the alien bombardment. Violence was rampant, and murdering someone over a carton of food and clean water was as common as sunny days, and this was Arizona. Dexter had seen looters attack his own house three times already in less than a month. He'd repelled them each time with volleys of gunfire. Once, the bullets had come at him, too.

But he was out of food now, and while he had lots of guns and ammo, he couldn't eat it. So, after finding that the pickup truck in the garage still ran, he was now approaching the gates at the bottom of the bluff on which sat the Davidson Ranch. Dexter still had his entry code, but he wasn't surprised when he found the pad dead. No problems. A quarter mile up the road was a spot his 4x4 could handle, and after weaving through the trees and around some SUV sized boulders, he was on the driveway again, heading for the house.

Dexter pulled up short of the roundabout at the end of the drive, looking for Magnolia or anyone else who might be here. He just sat there for a minute or two, watching the house, before stepping out, carrying his favorite long gun, a Valmet combination shotgun/rifle, while a Beretta 9mm pistol clung to his hip in its holster.

 

[BellaMiles]

Maggie Davidson and Dexter Peterson

Before the aliens had done whatever they had done to disable nearly all electronics in this area, Maggie would have known someone was coming onto the estate long before they'd ever done so. There were motion detectors, there were cameras, there were proximity alarms. All of those were now worthless, of course.

Her first indication that she was no longer alone on the property was when Sheila, her purebred Maltese, began pitching a fit in the home's foyer. After seeing a vehicle in the drive, she hurried to her bedroom to retrieve the shotgun she'd laid out on the bed. Moving to the French Doors and cracking them open, Maggie found herself unsurprised to see her handyman, Dexter Peterson, sitting behind the wheel of his ancient, beat up, and yet still operating pickup.

She smirked a bit, recalling that it had been Dexter who'd sold her the weapon. Maggie had had a scare with a mountain lion a few weeks earlier, the first time she'd seen anything bigger than a coyote on the estate. Dexter had taken her out near one of the outbuildings to show her how to use it, which had been both hilarious and embarrassing. The 12 gauge shotgun had very nearly put Maggie on her butt. The 20 gauge she was holding now hadn't been much easier to handle. But she'd learned to use it, using both kinds of shells, those for big and small animals and those for larger animals, like the cat that had visited a second time just days ago.

The question now, obviously, was whether or not Maggie could use the gun against the most dangerous of large animals, a human being who also had a gun. She saw the even scarier looking weapon in Dexter's hands when he got out, and her stomach turned over with pain causing anxiety. Maggie didn't for a moment think he was here to protect her; her first thought was that he was here to take what was hers.

She had a second fear, too, this one for her own physical being. Maggie had seen Dexter ogle her body hungrily more times than she could remember. And although he might not know it, she'd known he was fucking her maid for weeks, maybe more. With no one here to protect her, was Maggie looking at Dexter raping her, as well as stealing her inventory of life sustaining things. And if he was up to raping her, wouldn't he just as well kill her, too.

She watched him for a moment as he stood near the truck, closed the door, and began to walk forward. He was an impressive man, tall, well built, attractive in his way. Maggie would be lying if she'd said she hadn't fantasized about Dexter while laying in her bed pressing one of her many sex toys against or inside of her lonely woman parts.

Neither of her husbands had been the masculine type, and neither of them had been able to satisfy her in the way she knew Dexter had Isabel. One afternoon when the pair of them had believed she was in the gym with her thrice a week trainer, Maggie had come across the two of them on the other side of the house as Dexter fucked Izzy hard, fast, and deep while she was bent over the clothes folding table.

Maggie had been mesmerized by what the beautiful example of manliness had done to the petite little housekeeper. She'd been so overcome with lust that she'd practically drug her trainer to her bedroom, laid him down, and rode him until she'd reached the euphoria of orgasm not once, not twice, but three times. She'd been so embarrassed by her inappropriate actions that she'd fired the trainer, sworn him to secrecy, and given him a $5,000 check as severance.

And although she would have loved to have the situation just right to partake of him and his cock, this was not that situation. Dexter wasn't very far from his pickup before Maggie stuck the barrel of her shotgun out between the doors and pulled the trigger. There was a boom that plugged her ears, followed almost immediately by the sound of breaking and falling glass. Maggie was teetered by the gun's kick, enough so that she took a step backwards to steady.

When she recovered and looked to the drive again, Maggie saw no sign of Dexter. She was a bit surprised that she'd hit the driver side window, which had in fact been her target. Maggie wasn't looking to kill the handyman; she just wanted him to run for cover, then run away.

Now she found herself even more fearful than she had been upon his arrival. She hollered out the slightly parted doors, "I wasn't trying to shoot you, Dexter! It was a warning shot! Get the fuck on my land!"

As soon as she'd said it, Maggie realized she sounded like some character from one of the many old Old West movies she spent her evenings watching when she was tired of working on her investments. She repeated, "Did you hear me, Dexter? Get the fuck on the property! You can take your truck. I won't shoot at you, so long as you leave!"

 

[DeadManTyping]

Dexter's heart leapt up into his throat at the sound of gunfire and shattering glass. Instinctively, he crouched and ran. He knew in an instance that the shot had come from the direction of the bedroom, likely out the glass doors that looked out on the driveway. One might have thought it better to run away from the shot, but Dexter ran at it instead.

What he knew from having worked on the home's exterior all these months was twofold: first, in just a couple of steps he would be hidden by the arborvitae hedge running along the home's exterior near the bedroom; second, there was a key box in the hedgerow for the employees and periodic delivery drivers and vendors that Magnolia didn't know Dexter knew about.

"I wasn't trying to shoot you, Dexter! It was a warning shot! Get the fuck on my land!"​

Maggie's call told him that he'd been right about her location. Dexter didn't waste time, finding the key box, tapping in the combination, and removing the key.

"Did you hear me, Dexter? Get the fuck on the property! You can take your truck. I won't shoot at you, so long as you leave!"​

He moved toward the bedroom, stopping at the corner of the building before hollering, "Why the fuck are you shooting at me in the first place? I came to make sure you were okay!"

Immediately, Dexter turned and ran for the home's front entrance, hoping Maggie would think he was still there. He could hear her as he hurriedly unlocked and opened the door. He'd assumed that there would be no alarm, which there wasn't; just as others had guessed, electro magnetic pulse weapons had been used over this area and virtually nothing electronic worked anymore.

Once inside, Dexter hurried for the hallway and down it to the bedroom door. He peeked inside, saw Maggie still at the door, then moved back to cover. "Maggie!"

Dexter waited a moment to let her understand he was behind her before sayin, "If I wanted to kill you and steal your stuff, I would have shot you in the back, rather than let you know I'm inside."

 

[BellaMiles]

(Oh! I like how you used indent for previous dialogue. I'm gonna do that, too, okay?)

"Maggie!"​

The sound of Dexter's voice from inside the house caused Maggie to swing the shotgun around, or at least try. The end of the barrel slammed into the glass panes of the French Doors, smashing one of them. She cursed, untangled herself from the frame and drapes, and aimed the gun at the bedroom entrance.

"Don't come in here or I'll shoot you!" she hollered at the unseen Dexter.

"If I wanted to kill you and steal your stuff, I would have shot you in the back, rather than let you know I'm inside."​

Maggie continued to aim her weapon at the open doorway for several more seconds. Finally, "Alright. That makes sense. But why are you here? What do you want?"

She listened to his response. Then, "Fine. I'm putting the gun on the bed."

Maggie moved to the huge super-king, set the shotgun down, and backed up to the French Doors. She wanted to be able to run away if it appeared Dexter was playing her for a fool. Hell, she might even be able to get to his pickup and escape. Though, where was she going to go. Even with Dexter here, the estate was still the safely place she could be right now.

She waited until he revealed himself, then warned him, "If you touch me, if you hurt me, I'll kill you. I don't know how, but I will."

Maggie felt a bit stupid making such a threat, particularly when she was presenting herself as she was. She'd been out back not just to watch Flagstaff burn but to get some sun as well. Just because the world was ending, that didn't mean Maggie couldn't get in a few minutes of tanning her body. Luckily, she hadn't stripped down to her birthday suit, as she did when she was out sunbathing. She still have her bikini on, as well as a sheer sarong tied around her waist.

She reached to the drapes of the doors and pulled them before her. They, too, were sheer like her sarong, but it made her feel less exposed. With a harsh tone, she asked, "Why are you here, and what do you want?"

 

[DeadManTyping]

"Alright. That makes sense. But why are you here? What do you want?"​

"I told you," Dexter repeated, lying and telling the truth simultaneously. "I'm here to make sure you're okay."

"Fine. I'm putting the gun on the bed."​

Dexter listened as Maggie moved about the room. He could see the bed and the shotgun falling into its middle. Peeking around the door frame and then stepping into the room, he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. Maggie's well rounded body was very nicely displayed and complimented by a bare minimum of clothing. Dexter fought to force his gaze from her delicious figure to her equally attractive face. He asked with a soft volume, "Why the hell you shooting at me?"

"If you touch me, if you hurt me, I'll kill you. I don't know how, but I will."​

"I'm sure you will find a way if you try, Maggie," Dexter confirmed as he made his way to the bed to retrieve the weapon he'd sold her. He noted her reaction to his use of her nickname. He'd accidentally called her that a few times in the past and had always apologetically corrected himself. This time, he didn't. "But I'm not going to touch you or hurt you, so relax."

"Why are you here, and what do you want?"​

"Wow, I don't know how many times I can say this," Dexter said with a bit of tone in his voice. As he continued, he slung his own weapon over his shoulder, ejected the remaining shells from Maggie's onto the bed, then with a skilled touch manipulated the shotgun until parts began coming off in his hands. He tossed the weapon back onto the bed again and showed her one small but vital mechanism, pocketing it as he told her, "I wouldn't try using that without this. Unless you want to blow your face off."

In truth, that wouldn't happen. The shotgun simply wouldn't fire. But Maggie didn't know that, and Dexter wasn't about to confess he'd lied. He gestured toward the bedroom door. "C'mon, I'm hungry. Why don't we go to the kitchen, and you can make me some lunch while we talk about out situation."

Dexter gave Maggie a moment, then said, "You can either walk to the kitchen in front of me or be carried there over my shoulder."

 

[BellaMiles]

Maggie didn't hesitate to respond, "Remember the part about me killing you if you touch me?"

She took a moment to look at the damage she'd done to the door, cursed again, closed it, and headed for the bedroom's walk-in closet. The doors to it were open and Dexter could see her well enough not to be concerned, though she couldn't know and couldn't care whether or not he did. Maggie shed the sarong and donned a summer dress over her bikini.

She led Dexter to the kitchen, selected some cans, boxes, bags, and bottles from the kitchen pantry, then collected plates, glasses, and silverware as well. Maggie gestured to some of the meals ingredients and said, "Let's go out on the patio. It's too hot in here."

Out near the pool, in a breeze that was picking up, Maggie set up their meal on a glass table before they settled into the chairs surrounding it. She shifted her attention from the destruction in the valley below them to her guest.

"So, because you have the gun and have no qualms about stealing it from me, you think its alright to steal what's mine?" she began, speaking between the little bits of the less perishable foods that still remained in her stores, "If I resist, are you going to kill me? Is that who you are, Dexter?"

 

[BellaMiles]

Introducing "Kimmie" Williams and others

Kimberly "Kimmie" Williams
28 years old
5'6", 130#, modestly built and attractive; Black
Very short, kinky black hair; deep brown eyes
Electrical/Electronics Engineering Apprentice
Widow (after the alien attack killed her husband)

Bella Miles
18 years old
5'4", 111#, dramatic hourglass figure, considering her height; D-cups
Thick, brunette hair to her butt; deep green eyes
Undeclared, 2nd year student (when the aliens arrived)

Carla Hughes
25 years old
5'8", 144#; modest figure
Sexually active, bisexual; loves sex
No one really knows her past, yet


Kimmie made the last adjustments to the engine's control system, stood, and backed away. Looking around herself to the dozen or so others involved in the project, she asked with a solemn tone, "So, who wants to fire it up and sees if it attracts attention from our new overlords?"

There was a mix of responses from criticism to laughter. Off and on since they'd come to realize that the more recent attacks from orbit had been aimed at anything and everything advanced, Kimmie and her team of engineers, tinkerers, and plain ol' folk had been experimenting with different kinds of technology in an attempt to see what the aliens above could detect and, thus, would attack.

Their designs had been becoming less and less modern with each attempt after the previous ones had been destroyed. The last model, which had used a combustion engine from the 1990 with jerry-rigged tech, had been put out in the open and turned on remotely by a simple, windup kitchen timer. The team had known that the alien spaceship was to pass over soon, and as they watched the model through telescopes and binoculars from more than half a mile away, it was struck and destroyed by an almost imperceptible laser.

"I don't know why we're still at this," one of the younger males on the project said. "We're gonna get ourselves killed."

Kimmie knew that that possibility existed. The aliens hadn't shown an interest in outright killing human beings so far. All of the deaths she herself had witnesses had been a result of collateral damage, when the ship above had been striking at vehicles, industrial buildings, bridges, train trestles, and other tech features. But she was an inquisitive type, and she wanted to know just what they could get away with in the eyes of their new masters up above.

"Load it up," Kimmie said to the four people who were as involved in this project as she was. "Let's take it out to Location Foxtrot and give it a try. That's 32 miles from the last test."

The distance between test locations had become an issue after someone had suggested that perhaps the aliens weren't actually detecting technology but were instead watching the Air Force Testing Range where Kimmie and her group were working. They'd begun spreading the tests out since then, to no avail as the devices still got hit every time the ship passed overhead.

Three hours later, after hauling the new model to the site on a cart pulled by bicycles, Kimmie and most of the others stood at a distance and watched as a plume of brown dust and black smoke rose from their destroyed engine. She looked up to the sky, barely catching the sun reflecting off the ship's hull, and confessed to the others, "I think we're done here."

When they looked to her, she shrugged, then teared up. She was exhausted and depressed, and she'd tried every sort of low tech engine build she could think of. One of the other women, a barely 18 year old named Bella Miles, wrapped her arms around Kimmie, whispering kind words. The two of them had been becoming close, nearing what Kimmie -- who had never been with another woman before, while Bella had -- was beginning to think might soon become more than just a friendship.

"We're down to a couple of days food," Bella told the older woman as most of the others rode their bikes away and the two of them walked theirs slowly alone down the beaten dirt road. "We have to make a decision about what we're going to do. The whole group, I mean."

Kimmie glanced to the young beauty at her clarification, wondering whether she'd actually meant the whole group. Bella had been using the words us meaning the two of them and you and I more frequently of late, indicating Kimmie thought that the decade younger woman had no interest in remaining with the others once this little experiment in tech use failed and other considerations became more important.

"I know where there's a cabin in the mountains where we could stay," Bella repeated, having brought this up to the Engineering Apprentice before. She started to describe its location relative to here again, but when Kimmie reminded her that she knew all this, Bella said with eagerness, "We should go! You and me. A couple of the others if you think we need them. But you and me, we should go, today. I know you like your little toys and that you think--"

"They're not toys," Kimmie cut in. "They could be the future of human technology."

"Devolution!" the younger woman cut in. When Kimmie went silent, Bella clarified, "Isn't that what the Professor said?"

The Professor was the original leader of this project of their to create alien-proof machines. He was dead now, after the machine model they'd been tinkering with was accidentally energized while the spacecraft was passing overhead. A laser shot had destroyed the model and killed six of their team.

"He said the aliens' intentions were to devolve human society," Bella said, telling the other woman nothing she hadn't already heard over and over again. She continued, "To send up back into the stone age or at least as close to it as they could before they finally sent their armies of shock troops down to take over."

No one really knew what the aliens' actual end goal was, of course, but Bella's speculation was popular with a lot of the survivors of the assault on Earth. Anything and everything built since the mid-19th century had pretty much been wiped out so far, save for simple housing and other such structures.

The survivors in most areas had begun fighting and killing one another over rapidly depleting resources: food, water, fuel, stock animals, housing, and more. Humanity itself was extinct, even if Humans weren't.

Back at the village, a long discussion about the future began and continued for almost 7 hours before it was decided that a vote would be taken. The result was that the engineering project was finished and the 24 people involved, engineers and their families, would divide their resources evenly and disperse, heading for more secure locations.

Kimmie and Bella were leaving together, obviously. They invited five of the others to come with them: 34 year old Richard had once had a thing with Kimmie, but they were now just friends; 23 year old Carla was a wild child who'd had sex with most of the men in the group and some of the women but impressed Kimmie even more so with her ability to somehow turn anything that had been alive at one point into dinner; the eldest of team, 64 year old Anthony was a walking, talking Encyclopedia Britannica, and Kimmie was a great believer in the preservation of knowledge; and twin brothers Mark and Carl were non-engineering types who'd somehow joined the group and become integral parts of it as worthwhile laborers.

They brought their shares of the resources together, found a way to load them on carts behind bicycles or in backpacks, and bright and early the next morning they headed eastward, with another group that branched off a couple of hours later to the south. Looking toward the arid, rocky mountains, Kimmie asked Bella, "Are you sure this place even exists anymore?"

"Sure!" the young thing said with confidence. "I was there just a couple of years ago. My cousin and some of her family were sorta hiding out there during the latest wave of the pandemic, to keep away from that Russian Variant that was dropping people like hotcakes. Is that right, hotcakes? Anyway, I stayed up there with them a couple of months until they started distributing the new vaccine. Lot of good that did us."

Kimmie knew what the girl meant, of course. The Russian Variant of COVID-19 had been one of the deadliest to date, killing more than 40% of those who caught it. Entire families and nearly entire towns had been wiped off the map in more than 20 countries before it seemingly just disappeared. There was speculation that it attacked and killed so quickly that, one quarantined location after another, it had simply killed everyone and had no one to spread to, then vanishing.

Who knew and who cared now? COVID had nearly been eradicated here in the Southwest finally, just in time for fucking ET to begin killing Humans instead. There's always a bigger and hungrier fish in the sea, Kimmie's father had been fond of saying about aggressive competition.

They traveled east for three days without coming into contact with anyone else. Then, tragedy struck.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Brent Woods, Former Army Ranger (Introduction)

Brent Woods
35
Tall, dark, and handsome
Former Army Ranger (Survival Training Instructor)


The group of seven travelers had just left the open, mostly flat plain and was entering a narrowing, gently steepening canyon when that tragedy occurred. From both sides of the road, gunmen leaped from the shadows, ordering them to stop, dismount, drop their bags, and put their hands up. The men were engaging the concept of shock and awe, hollering loudly while approaching quickly with rifles, shotguns, and pistols aimed at the travelers.

The majority of the seven did as told as they only had three firearms between them; they had a bow and crossbow, too, but those weapons hadn't been being carried with the thoughts that danger was imminent.

But two of the group did have their weapons handy: the twins, Mark and Carl. They both raised their weapons, with the latter attempting to mimic their attackers forceful methods. The results were fatal, as four of the attackers opened fire on not just the brothers but on Anthony as well; he'd put his hands in the air, but he had a rifle over his shoulder and one of the ambushers must have feared he might use it.

Mark was killed outright, and Carl would bleed out in the minutes to come. Anthony wasn't seriously injured, but the round had passed through his leg, breaking his fibula and dropping him to the pavement.

The attackers continued to force their surprise, getting the remaining four on the ground while threatening to kill all the rest of them if necessary. One of the men began ogling all the women, and with a hungry look on his face and suggestive tone in his voice, he warned his team, "Don't shoot the women if you can prevent it. I think we're gonna have fun tonight with them."

Suddenly, the man's forehead seemed to explode, spraying blood and brain matter out over the cringing travelers. As he was falling forward, hitting the pavement with a thud, a distant boom announced the hidden sniper. The other ambushers were confused initially, giving the shooter enough time to put a second round through the chest of yet another of the ambushers.

The standing men began to panic, with some of them hitting the ground, some running for the road's shoulder, and yet more of them circling around their new hostages to look for cover. A third shot went through a highwayman's shoulder, just as Richard rolled to scoop of the first sniper victim's shotgun. As distant booms continued, Kimmie's former lover emptied the weapon at close range against the nearest men, ripping bodies apart with the double ought buckshot.

And then, after an exchange that lasted less than twenty seconds, the only sounds that remained were the horrific cries of those who'd been shot yet hadn't yet died. Richard remained low, holding the shotgun before him as he looked to each of their attackers for movement. He looked off into the rocks above them for signs of the shooter but saw nothing.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked with concern. "Sound off! Is anyone shot? Anthony! Anthony, how bad are you? Someone check Anthony. "

Someone had already hurried over to Mark, who was obviously dead. His brother got attention next. "Carl's hit bad! Oh God, he's bleeding bad. Someone help!"

As the two living men were looked after, Richard rose to his feet and walked slowly toward where he thought their savior was hidden in the rocky woods. He shifted the shotgun to a horizontal position before him, out a bit and then up to indicate surrender.

"There's no need to shoot us, too!" he hollered. Without asking for input from the others, he offered, "You can have whatever you need! We'll share our food with you! We don't want any trouble!"

A few seconds later, a voice called out, "Put all of the weapons in a pile ahead of you. Twenty feet, then back away."

Richard looked to the others this time for their input, but everyone was tending to the injured so no one really had much to offer except for concerns that the sniper might not be any better for them than the ambushers. But a bit later, all of their weapons and the attackers weapons were in a pile in the middle of the road, and Richard backed away to see what happened next.

A man finally emerged from the woods, descending to and out onto the road. He looked as if he'd just walked off a Syrian battlefield rather than out of an Arizona National Forest, fully equipped with military camo, helmet, body armor, a full backpack, and a multitude of clips and even a variety of explosives, from grenades to flash bangs to smoke. He had a sniper's rifle with scope and bi-pod over his shoulder, a shotgun in his hands, and a pistol on his hip.

The shotgun was leveled at Richard initially, but once the man had reached the pile of firearms, he lowered it to a less threatening position. He glanced at each of the men he and Richard had killed, then at Mark, Carl, and Anthony. He only asked about the latter, inquiring, "How's the old man?"

"Carl's dead," someone whispered, repeating a bit louder, "Carl's gone. He's dead."

"Anthony's leg is broken," someone else reported, "and I can't stop the bleeding."

The sniper removed a first aid kit from his kit and tossed it to one of the people attending the grimacing but otherwise relatively silent old man. "You'll find in that--"

"I know what's in it," one of the women attending Anthony said. She searched for, found, and used sulfa powder to fend off infection and a morphine to fend off Anthony's pain. She told those working with her, "Clean it and bandage it. We're gonna need to make a splint, and we're gonna have to carry him, so we'll need a stretcher."

"You have food you said?" the sniper asked, not looking at Richard but looking at Kimmie instead. When she met his gaze, he lowered the shotgun even further, saying, "I'm not robbing you, but, I saved your lives. So, maybe you could share what you have with me?"

"How is it that you just happened to be here to save us?" Richard asked suspiciously. "We're you tracking these--"

"I was one of them," the sniper said. "I was supposed to be protecting them from you."

He looked around for reactions, then added, "I was never going to just stand by while they killed you guys..."

He looked between the women, adding, "...and raped you women. That was their plan. They've done it before, before I joined them."

The gunman hesitated again to listen to any comments if there were any, then said, "My name is Daniel. Daniel Klein. So, about the food? I could continue to live on squirrel, mushrooms, and deer fern if I needed to, but I could really go for a slice of bread or can of beans or, please, tell me you have some fruit. I'd kill for a can of peaches. Or, actually, maybe I just did?"

 

[DeadManTyping]

When Dexter threatened to carry Maggie over his shoulder to the kitchen if she didn't go peacefully, she had a quick response to him.

"Remember the part about me killing you if you touch me?"​

He watched her carefully as she went to the closet, unsure if the shotgun he'd sold her was the only firearm she had. When she started to undress, Dexter got a bit excited, in both of his heads. But she only shed the sarong and then put on more clothes, disappointing the man.

They retrieved some non-perishables and went out onto the deck to eat. Luckily for Maggie, the property had a propane tank and still working gas grill. They were able to heat up the basic ingredients for burritos with sides of canned vegetables and fruits. Dexter would have killed for lettuce and cheese, but the first was perishable and long eaten while the second had also been nibbled away over the past weeks.

"So, because you have the gun and have no qualms about stealing it from me, you think its alright to steal what's mine?" she began.​

"I'm not stealing anything from you, Maggie," Dexter said, still using her nickname as she hadn't gone to the effort to chastise him over it. "If you recall, I work here. Just 'cause the aliens are blowing up the fucking planet, that doesn't cease my gainful employment, does it. You never fired me, after all."

He carefully popped the lid off a warm beer, letting the overflow fill the bottom couple of inches of a glass before he took a long draw on the bottle. He smirked and implied that they might become much closer in the near future by saying, "Besides, you need a man around to protect you and, you know, other stuff. You know you always liked me, and you know I always liked you. No telling just what might happen between us now that I'm now your partner in this place.

He drank from the bottle again as he stared into her eyes, wondering what going through her mind. Maggie had to know that Dexter wanted to be her lover, and she had to be thinking that he was probably going to make that happen even if it was against her will. Dexter had never raped a woman in his life, at least, not by his definition. Sure, he'd forced himself on a handful of beauties in the past. Some people might have called it date rape. Dexter called it being compensated for the money he'd spent on dinners, drinks, and other such things of value.

"If I resist, are you going to kill me? Is that who you are, Dexter?"​

"Of course not, Maggie," he said without hesitation. I have no interest in seeing you dead."

After another sip, he smirked wide and added, "I do, however, have every intention of seeing you naked on your bed, under me, atop me, on your hands and knees. You're choice. Now that's who I am."

 

[BellaMiles]

Maggie sat in silence as Dexter laid out his thoughts regarding their past, current, and future relationships. She couldn't help but chuckle at the part where he said she needed a man around to protect her.

"I do, however, have every intention of seeing you naked on your bed, under me, atop me, on your hands and knees. You're choice. Now that's who I am."​

After contemplating her response for a long moment, Maggie said in a casual tone, "I'll bite your cock off and spit it into the pool, Dexter, if you ever touch me like that without my consent."

She stood from her chair, and when he reacted she snapped, "I'm getting more beer, so fucking relax."

Maggie headed for the sliding glass doors beyond which were the dining room and then the kitchen. Dexter could see her fairly well from where he was, but she wouldn't have blamed him for following her inside either. If he didn't, she would retrieve a steak knife and slip it into her bikini bottoms, just in case; if he did, she would still try to do so without being seen.

Maggie had no immediate desire to shiv her guest; Dexter was right in one respect, that it would be helpful to have a man like him here to watch over her, as she could do at times for him as well. But there was no way she was going to let him put his cock inside her just because he thought it was his right.

Returning to the patio and sitting down opposite him, Maggie spoke as if still in charge, "I'll let you stay, for a while, anyway. You don't touch me unless I say you can, which I won't. I'll share what I've got. You keep us safe."

She looked at the weapons he possessed and recalled how uncomfortable she'd been firing her shotgun earlier. Guns, they just weren't her. She looked back to Dexter as she opened another warm beer for him. With a tone that was a bit less aggressive, Maggie said, "Respect me. I'll respect you."

Then, after contemplating about their past working relationship, Maggie conceded, "I'll respect you more than I did before."

 

[BellaMiles]

The ambush happened so quickly and stunningly that Kimmie simply stood there in shock, cringing in fear, just as their attackers had intended. She had an unstrung recurve bow lashed to her pack, but it never occurred to Kimmie to string it, arm out, and use it. She didn't carry it for that reason; it was for hunting food, not killing people. Besides, you didn't bring a bow and arrow to a gun fight, or whatever Sean Connery's character said in that Al Capone movie so many years earlier.

And while she was initially frozen in terror, it wasn't long before she was on the ground at Anthony's side, putting pressure upon the compound fracture that was threatening to bleed him to death. Gun ambush or not, that part of her nature came to her without delay.

When the fighting ended and the sniper emerged from the woods to explain his part in it all, Kimmie knew she didn't and wouldn't trust this man. He'd betrayed one group of friends which, obviously, Kimmie was okay with considering they'd killed two of her friends and had threatened to rape her and the other women. But did that mean Kimmie's group could trust him?

"My name is Daniel. Daniel Klein. So, about the food?​

Seeing Bella and Carla tending to Anthony more than adequately, Kimmie stood and moved closer to Richard, where she felt saver due to their history. She looked the sniper over, saying firmly, "Daniel is it ... we'll give you food and water and whatever you need, but I want you to keep something straight..."

Kimmie waggled an extended finger about to indicate the mayhem resulting from the gun fight. "This...! You didn't do this for us. We never asked you to blow a guy's head off. We never asked you to kill all these men."

She could sense some differing opinions from those around her but continued. "You could have killed these men at any time before we arrived, and you won't be claiming justification for murdering them in our name."

Bella said weakly from near the injured, older man's side, "Kimmie, c'mon, he saved our lives--"

"No!" she cut the younger woman off, giving her a glare. Looking back to Daniel she continued, "Yes, you saved us, and I thank you. Thank you, Daniel. But..."

Kimmie went quiet, then turned away and returned to Anthony. She didn't know how to explain what she was saying. She'd never approved of violence, feeling that if people wanted to find one, there was always a peaceful way to solve conflicts. What had happened here today shouldn't have. It was that simple.

 

[DeadManTyping]

(OOC: I used to bold my dialogue to make it stand out. Tell me what you think.)

"I'll bite your cock off and spit it into the pool, Dexter, if you ever touch me like that without my consent."​

He couldn't help but laugh at Maggie's response to him telling her that eventually they would be lovers. When she stood and turned to leave he asked suspiciously, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm getting more beer, so fucking relax."​

Dexter didn't know whether to trust his former boss or not. He didn't immediately stand to follow her, but eventually did. He got to the open door to watch her, but not before she'd slipped a knife under her clothing. As Maggie was retrieving two more warm beers from their cardboard cases, Dexter opened the fridge, curious. It was empty and clean, as if it had never been used before.

"You did this?" he asked with doubt. "Or is Izzy here?"

Dexter was hoping his little Latina lover was around. It had been a while since he'd gotten his cock wet, not counting the times since the alien arrival when he'd gripped it with lotion covered hands, anyway. Maggie ignored his question and returned to sit at the glass table.

"I'll let you stay, for a while, anyway. You don't touch me unless I say you can, which I won't. I'll share what I've got. You keep us safe."​

He considered Maggie's offer a moment. "You share what you've got, I'll keep us safe, sure. Pretty close to what I was thinking." By close, Dexter meant that he was still determined to partake of Maggie's body, of course.

She told him firmly, "Respect me. I'll respect you."​

That caused Dexter's lips to spread in a smile. Magnolia Davidson had never shown him any more respect than she'd felt an easily replaced minimum wage worker deserved. Why would he expect her to show him more than that now? The world about them had changed in ways they could never have imagined until now, but that didn't mean the people affected by those changes would themselves change.

"I'll respect you more than I did before."​

Dexter's smile lessened a bit; was she reading his mind? He considered what she said, then said flatly, "Partners. Equal partners."

He could see in Maggie's face that she understood what he meant, but he clarified anyway. "This is your home, and everything in it, on it, around it, it's all yours, too. Or, at least, it was. Now it's ours, together. You agree to that ... and I promise you..."

Dexter let his gaze drop to the slightly older but still amazingly beautiful woman's delicious body and then looked up and completed his vow, "No one will ever touch you in any way of which you don't approve ... including myself."

 

[DeadManTyping]

Daniel listened to the woman who appeared to be the eldest and possibly the most socially senior of the group chastise him for what he'd done. He was conflicted about his feelings: on one hand she seemed extremely ungrateful, yet on the other she was correct that he could have struck at the highwaymen at any point over the past few days.

One of the younger women spoke up...

"Kimmie, c'mon, he saved our lives--"​

"No!" she cut the younger woman off, giving her a glare. Looking back to Daniel she continued, "Yes, you saved us, and I thank you. Thank you, Daniel. But..."​

The older woman, this Kimmie, turned away to attend to the injured man. Daniel and Richard looked to one another for a moment, and while the former wanted to say something to the latter about Kimmie, he didn't. Instead, Daniel surprised Richard by saying, "These guys, they have a camp just up the road and off the trail a bit ... where they're holding hostages. Women mostly, some kids."

"How many?" Richard asked, surprised though now wondering why he was. Looking to the dead guys, he saw no packs of gear he might expect from a wandering band of marauders; their stuff had to be accumulated somewhere. "How far?"

Daniel looked back over his shoulder, then to Richard again. "Up the road about half a mile, then off the road another three, four hundred yards. There're 9 hostages and two guys watching them. They'd be easy to take out."

Daniel looked to Kimmie, who he was sure could hear him. He said, meaning for both the woman and Richard to hear, "Or, if you prefer, we could not kill them and simply free the hostages."

"Or not free the hostages at all," Anthony said, grimacing as one of the women adjusted his splint. When he got some attention for his comment, he explained, "Hey, we just lost two of our friends, and I have a fucking hole in my leg and a bone sticking out of it."

His medics started to correct him regarding his description of his wound, but Anthony interrupted, "I'm just saying, we lost dearly to these fuckers, and you want to risk even more for people we don't know?"

"I'll help you free them," Richard said, ignoring the older man. He looked to Daniel. "Just as soon as we take care of our people, I'll help you. No one else need risk their lives for this."

Richard looked back to Kimmie with an expression he hoped she would understand was meant to reassure her that no one else needed to volunteer for this rescue mission. At the same time, Daniel was shedding his packs and some of his weapons, asking, "Will burying your friends here in the woods suffice, or do you want to take them somewhere else?"

The male lead of the troupe looked to his female counterpart, offering softly, "You're decision, Kimmie."

 

[BellaMiles]

(Yeah, I like the bold. I used to used color, but I write on my phone a lot, and adding bold, color, and indent would be just too much.)

"Partners. Equal partners."​

Maggie very nearly snorted her dislike for Dexter even contemplating that they could be equal partners in this. She owned everything in sight and everything that wasn't in sight but was near. How did he think he could be an equal in this? But, Maggie reminded herself as Dexter went on, this was a new world, and just because everything was supposedly in her name, where would evidence of that be found these days?

He promised her, "No one will ever touch you in any way of which you don't approve ... including myself."​

This time, Maggie couldn't prevent the slight snort. She smiled at his reaction, explaining, "And I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you'll keep your hands to yourself."

Maggie gave Dexter a moment to respond if he wished before saying, "I want my gun back. In working order, please."

She didn't wait for him to respond, instead standing and saying, "Follow me."

Back in the kitchen again, she opened a drawer and withdrew a legal pad upon which she'd written on a couple of dozen pages. She confessed, "It was hard for me to get back into the habit of keeping records with pen and paper. Fuck, I miss my iPad."

She flipped pages, one after another, explaining that each was an inventory of various categories of items on the property. "Food organized by perish and expiration date. Some ideas on balanced diet, considering that there are certain food groups no longer available. Thoughts on what foods and other things might be available locally. Stuff like that."

She scooted the pad across the countertop at Dexter and, with an accusing tone, said, "This'll help you decide what to steal when you decide to turn on me."

Again, Maggie didn't wait for Dexter's retort before turning and telling him, "I'm going to my room to change into something that might let you redirect some of the blood in your groin back to your other head."

She laughed as she left the kitchen, adding, "Don't deny it, Dex. You've got too big a cock to hide it when you look at me."

And then after disappearing down the hall, she said with a hard tone regarding his question about Isabel, "And fuck you! I cleaned the refrigerator, asshole."

 

[DeadManTyping]

"I want my gun back. In working order, please."​

Maggie didn't wait for Dexter to respond, but as she got up and left he mumbled to himself, "Yeah, that's gonna happen."

In the kitchen, he listened to her complain about the lack of working electronics and agreed, "I miss my electric razor. Electric razor! What kind of shit ass alien invaders felt they needed to kill my Norelco?"

Maggie ran through her ledger of food, drinks, and stuff. It was mostly perishables which needed to be finished off soon and other edibles that might last a year or two, but she'd also listed things that they might use over many years to come but which simply couldn't be gotten anymore because of the end of the world.

"The devolution of human society," Dexter idly commented about what he presumed was the end of large scale commercial production of, well, everything. When Maggie looked to him, he said, "I heard it someplace."

One day soon, when he and Maggie came across Kimmie and her cohort, he would recognize a sexy young thing named Carla and recall having heard her speak the word during their post-coital reverie about the world they'd lost.

They got back to talking about the inventory list, and Maggie said with an accusatory tone...

"This'll help you decide what to steal when you decide to turn on me."​

He was about to try to reassure Maggie again that he wasn't going to betray her, but she turned and headed away again, saying she needed to put on some clothes that wouldn't cause him erections. Dexter only smiled; she wasn't wrong about that.

"And fuck you! I cleaned the refrigerator, asshole."​

"Yeah, right," he called after her. "You! The woman who, when I asked you one day if you had a green meanie, thought it was some crude demeaning description of an illegal alien and not a scrubber sponge."

Dexter didn't know if Maggie had ignored him or simply hadn't heard, but it didn't matter much. He followed after her just enough to see her walking casually to her bedroom. He probably should have followed her to ensure she wasn't up to anything that might end up with him dead. But Dexter realized that he couldn't watch Maggie 24/7. He was going to have to start trusting her some time, so, why not now?

He snatched up his warm beer and wandered out onto the patio. He looked off to the sliding glass door from which Maggie could access the back of the property and wondered whether or not she was eyeing him like he wished he was eyeing her. Stepping back into the kitchen, he unloaded both the rifle rounds and shotgun shells from his combination long gun, then pulled the clip and chambered round from the 9mm on his hip. He put the ammunition in a bowl in the cupboard, then returned to the deck, casually laid out the unloaded weapons on the table, stripped to his skin, and leaped into the pool for some exercise and coolness against his skin.

 

[BellaMiles]

Kimmie was listening in on the conversation about the camp full of hostages and trying to show disinterest, but as it went on, Richard looked back to her, obviously seeking her approval for a rescue mission. She would have preferred not to have known about the women and children being held, but now that she did, it was obvious to her that they had to be rescued.

"Or not free the hostages at all," Anthony said...​

Kimmie said in almost a whisper, "We can't just leave them to--"

"Hey, we just lost two of our friends, and I have a fucking hole in my leg and a bone sticking out of it."​

She tried to calm the eldest of them, but Anthony continued. Kimmie didn't blame the man for his feelings; it was possible he might never walk again easily, if at all. He'd been a trooper while they'd done their best to set his leg, but he needed to see a real doctor in a real hospital and the closest one that used to exist was sixty miles away, in the other direction from which they'd been traveling.

"I'll help you free them," Richard said..."​

That didn't surprise Kimmie at all. She'd known he would volunteer before he himself did.

"Just as soon as we take care of our people, I'll help you. No one else need risk their lives for this."​

Kimmie looked up and, sure enough, he was again looking to her with that look that said he was seeking her approval. She'd seen it each time their sexual relationship had moved forward a step way back when; Richard had been the type to seek permission before kissing, before groping, before licking, before penetrating. Kimmie had found it sweet, considering how some of her previous lovers had treated her prior to that.

"Will burying your friends here in the woods suffice, or do you want to take them somewhere else?"​

Kimmie looked passed the still mumbling, still pissed off Anthony to the bodies of Mark and Carl. Carla had moved over to the brothers and was sitting between them, her face dirty with tears and she whispered to them sweetly. Kimmie couldn't initially understand the words but then realized she was reciting Dr. Seuss's "And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street". Back at the machine testing camp, the 25 year old had entertained the group with a word for word, from memory recitation of the 811 word, 30 page classic, Theodor Seuss Geisel's first children's book.

(Carla had had some other fun at times with the book that Dr Seuss likely wouldn't have appreciated. She used to taunt her lovers as they were nearing orgasm, telling them as they reached that point of no return that if they couldn't hold out until she recited the ending -- from Marco arriving home to his confessing he'd seen nothing but a plain horse and wagon on Mulberry Street -- that they'd never fuck her again. Carla set the tempo of that last bit depending upon whether or not she herself wanted to once again have that particular lover's cock flooding her womanhood; she could finish that 87 word portion in less than 20 seconds or stretch it out to more than double that if she wanted. Very few men she didn't want to last ever did. Carla had found it torturous and yet somehow powerful of the younger woman to try.)

"You're decision, Kimmie..."​

...Richard said about burying the dead.

She considered the situation a moment, then stood and walked to the two men. "Anthony has to go back down to the valley. There's no choice. He might need surgery if he wants to keep that leg."

She looked between Daniel and Richard, then back to Anthony and Bella. Of the teen, Kimmie had contradictory thoughts, but she made the hard decision now. "You take Bella with you. She knows where she's going. Its a cabin she's been to, so she knows the way. I'll take Anthony back to the city and look for a doctor."

She looked back to Carla again, adding, "Take her, too. I'll be fine on my own."

Kimmie expected argument, but she would wave it all off, saying this was the way it needed to be. They'd already lost two friends; she wasn't going to let a third die, and she wasn't going to take the younger women down to the city where law and order had even less of a presence than it did here at the base of the mountains.

Looking to Carl and Mark again, she said, "Find a nice spot to bury them where the spring runoff won't unearth them, please. I just couldn't imagine..."

Kimmie fought off the thought of the brothers being uncovered by Mother Nature and then fed upon by Mother's death seeking creatures. She patted Richard on the arm to indicate she trusted his decisions, then turned away to talk to Anthony. Carefully, he was loaded into the most stable of the carts after most of its contents had been transferred to other carts or packs.

Bella begged to come with Kimmie, but the older woman demanded she continue onward and upward. The teen wrapped her arms around the decade older engineer for a tight hug, whispered that she would be wishing on the stars every night to be together again, then shocked Kimmie and some of the others who were paying attention by taking the slightly taller woman's face in her hands and pressing a full lips-on-lips kiss that was obviously more than just friendly.

The girl turned away quickly, her face wet with tears; she pretended to be dealing with the packs of supplies, but in reality she was just trying to hide her emotions from the others. Kimmie studied her for a moment, wondering how the others were taking the intimate embrace, then looked to Richard and finalized her departure. She mounted the bicycle and headed it down the slight slope. Looking back just once, she found Carla waving from her position on the pavement. Bella did not look down the hill.

"Let's get the brothers buried," Carla said as Kimmie disappeared around the first bend down the road. "Someplace nice."

It didn't take long to find a place that would be protected from sudden rains and washouts. It took much longer to dig the holes, considering the amount of rock and stone in the ground. The sun was descending in the west, and while they were getting plenty of end-of-day light here west of the hills, deep up inside them it was going to be dark soon.

It was decided that they should make a camp, somewhere other than here and other than where the two remaining highwaymen might descend to locate their missing brethren. As the four set up a camp inside a well hidden rocky crevice just thirty or so yards off the road, Carla got Richard aside at one point to speak with him.

"I need you," she whispered as she reached out to grasp his belt buckle, stand tall on her toes, and sneak in a quick kiss to his lips. "I want you right now, please. Can we just sneak off for a little bit?"

 

[BellaMiles]

Maggie couldn't help but laugh at Dexter's comment about his electric razor. It wasn't for the reasons he might have thought, though; somehow through all of this alien attack and, as he'd called it, devolution of human society, Maggie's battery operated sex toys still worked. Well, two of the dozen at least; the other phallic devices still worked for penetration, of course, but electronically they were just as kaput as was Dexter's razor.


She ignored his criticism of her house cleaning experience as she returned to her closet again. As she'd passed through the door, Maggie had left it open, just in case Dexter wanted to follow and get a peak as she changed. As she was passing by her bed, though, she chastised herself for tempting the man immediately after making a deal that would keep his cock out of her until she was ready to put it in her herself. She returned to the door, slamming it shut.

Maggie looked to the gun on the bed, yearning to have it functional again. Oh, she didn't want to shoot Dexter with it, at least not yet. She just wanted to know she had the capability of doing so if she chose that option. In her walk-in closet, she stripped to her skin, donned some more comfortable undergarments, put on a less showy summer dress, and slipped into some comfortable two inch heels.

She caught a shadow on the sliding glass door to the back patio and, thinking it was Dexter peeking, moved over there just in time to look out and see the stark ass naked man diving into the pool. His cock hadn't been stiff, but it had been just enough alive to make itself obvious as he leaned forward to enter the water.

"Izzy, you're missing out," she murmured, recalling the maid who'd been entertaining the gardening sexually. Recalling the happiness Isabel had shown in the hours that followed her encounters with Dexter above average cock, Maggie whispered, "I understand now."

Maggie thought about her housekeeper and her assistant, too, wondering how each of them were. She'd told each of them they were welcome to come back to the house after they'd tended to their own lives down in the valley, but to be honest, Maggie was fine with them not being here, devouring her limited food supply.

She made her way back to the kitchen to get some food, but almost as soon as she entered, she noticed that one of the cupboard doors was ajar just a tiny bit. Opening it curiously, Maggie found a mixing bowl full of ammunition, obviously from Dexter's weapon. She took the bowl down and, in amongst the bullets or whatever they were properly called, she also found the little piece the gun runner had taken from her shotgun.

Maggie had absolutely no idea what it was, let alone how to put it back in her own firearm. But, this all left her with a good idea. When she emerged onto the patio a minute or so later, she was carrying the gun Dexter had sold her months earlier. She didn't hide it from his view as stepped up to the table, nor -- after she'd set it down -- did she hide that lifted his pistol, put the clip in it, and -- after a bit of study -- figure out how to cause the top part of the gun to click shut, loading a round in the barrel.

"This is easier to use than I would have imagined," she said to him with an evil smirk as he himself came to a stop near her end of the pool. She turned the weapon this way and that, studying it and studying Dexter's reaction. Then she set it down, sat in her chair with his warm beer, and said, "You'll have to show me how to use it later, okay?"

Maggie sipped at the beer, looked to the pile of clothes before her, and looked back to Dexter ... wondering whether or not he'd ask for her to give him something with with to cover himself or simply emerge in all his manly glory. She'd comply to the former if he asked, but she wasn't about to offer. He'd been wanting her to see him naked for a long time, after all. Give him his moment in the sun, she thought, even if it meant it wouldn't go any farther, per their agreement.

 

[DeadManTyping]

"Anthony has to go back down to the valley. There's no choice. He might need surgery if he wants to keep that leg."​

Richard didn't like the idea of the group separating, and he particularly didn't like the idea of Kimmie going on her own. But after they discussed the situation, it seemed to be the best of several bad options.

If they hadn't lost both of the brothers and if Anthony wasn't the injured man, Richard would have sent one or more guys with Kimmie. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he was one of those types of guys, thinking that in most situations, a woman was safer with a man watching over her.

Ironically, that thinking was the reason Richard needed to stick with the portion of their group that was continuing onward. Bella was so young, naive, and trusting; and Carla was the type who could somehow find trouble while alone and sound asleep. Richard felt they needed his attention and protection even more so than Kimmie, even if she was heading back down into the lawless city.

They dealt with dividing their resources and repacking the packs and carts. During the process, Richard looked to Kimmie just as the young Bella kissed her in a very intimate way. He had to pull his eyes away as the embrace concluded; his mind was filled with questions that were causing his cock to stiffen.

They buried Carl and Mark, took a moment to remember their lives and the good times, then moved off and set up camp. Carla asked to speak with Richard in private, and once they were out of sight and hearing of the others, reached for his belt and began slowly working it free.

"I need you," Carla whispered. She kissed his lips softly. "I want you right now, please. Can we just sneak off for a little bit?"​

Richard knew this was wrong, but he did nothing to stop it. It wasn't that sex in general with Carla was wrong; it was that this really wasn't the right time. And yet his belt was unbuckled, his jeans unzipped, and his cock was being massaged to full stiffness.

"Not here," Richard said softly as he pulled Carla's hand from within his fly. He led her away from the camp along an old hiking trail for several dozen yards until they arrived at an unexpected patch of grass surrounded by thick foliage, as if it had been waiting here, growing here, specifically for the two of them and this moment. Richard pulled Carla to him for a passionate embrace, before stepping back and saying hungrily, "I wanna see you. Take your clothes off."

As he waited for Carla's reaction, Richard began undressing as well.

 

[BellaMiles]

Carla and Richard

"Not here," Richard said softly as he pulled Carla's hand from within his fly.​

Carla's biggest fear had been that Richard would deny her what she needed so desperately, not that the others might hear the results of them fucking or even happen upon them. It was a relief to have the man leading her off farther away from their traveling partners.

"I wanna see you. Take your clothes off."​

Carla smiled at Richard's request, smiling even more so when she saw him removing his jacket and beginning to unbuttoning his shirt. She grasped her tee shirt at the waist and ripped it up over her head, dropping it to the ground. Hesitating -- still smiling -- she waited until Richard's muscular top half was bared before she unhooked the clasp before her chest, letting the bra fall open to reveal B-cup breasts and their large, swollen nipples; her tits weren't the firm water balloons they were when she'd still been passing through puberty, but they weren't deflated bags hanging to her mid-belly either. No one had ever complained as they sucked or squeezed them, and that was all that mattered.

She gave Richard a moment to appreciate what he was seeing thus far before leaning down to untie and kick off her boots. He was doing the same, and Carla was eagerly shedding her jean shorts and panties all in one movement. In very little time, she was standing naked before Richard with the exception of her socks and a devilish grin.

"Keep going," she told Richard after he'd stripped off his pants and was in his socks and underwear. She settled her gaze on his crotch and the obvious growth there. She could already tell through the fabric that Richard's length and girth were above average, and that made her happy. She murmured, "I want that inside me so bad."

 

[DeadManTyping]

Richard and Carla

"I want that inside me so bad."​

Even without following her gaze to his groin, Richard knew what Carla meant by that. He matched her smile and shed his boxer-briefs; his nearly solid, 9 inch, thick cock flopped out and bounced about before his crotch as he used his sock covered toes to push his underwear past his feet.

They spent a few seconds just admiring each other. Richard had heard the stories of how good Carla looked naked. They had been accurate. She was incredible, and while -- unknown to Richard -- Carla wished her tits hadn't taken on a slight amount of sag since her teens, he himself thought they were perfect and in great need of attention from his mouth and hands.

Richard walked the three short steps forward to take Carla's torso against him, pressing his mouth to her in a passionate kiss. He dropped one hand to an ass cheek, grasping it tightly, then did the same with the other. He pulled her upwards, off her feet and -- as her thighs parted -- against his finally rock hard cock. He hurried to position Carla so that he could enter her, foreplay be damned.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Dexter had swam to the far end of the pool and back twice and -- now on his back -- was on his third trip away when he caught sight of Maggie coming out onto the patio. Believing he'd hid the ammunition to both the combination long gun and the pistol, he found himself surprised -- and a bit concerned -- when he saw his hostess pick up the semi-auto, insert the clip, and release the slide to load a round into the chamber. He slowed his swim and treaded in about 8 feet of water for a moment before beginning to move back Maggie's direction again.

"This is easier to use than I would have imagined."​

​

"Easy to load, yes," he agreed before adding in the hopes that she had no intention to shoot him, "Not so easy to use sometimes."

She set the weapon aside, asking...

"You'll have to show me how to use it later, okay?"​

Dexter chuckled. "So long as if you use it against me, you don't make me suffer."

When he was able to reach the bottom of the pool with his feet again, he walked slowly Maggie's direction. Each step raised his body a couple of inches higher, until when he reached the steps the level was low enough on his form as to allow the general shape and dark color of his pubic muff to show.

Dexter considered stopping there and asking for the towel he'd brought to the pool's edge from a rack near the door. But he knew by the expression on her face that Maggie was calculating the odds that he was too modest to show himself, particularly just after they'd made their deal about sex.

"Since we're partners now," Dexter said as he ascended the steps, revealing his manhood to Maggie's staring eyes, "I have something on which we need an agreement."

He reached the patio surface, leaned to retrieve the towel, and without making any effort to hide himself began drying off his body. Looking right at Maggie, Dexter continued, "I have people down in the 'burbs who are waiting for me to signal them that its okay to come up here."

Richard let Maggie chew on that for a second as he smiled. "Yeah, I knew I was staying up here before you and I made our deal. What I hadn't known was whether or not you were still here. I'm glad you are, though. Really."

As the towel moved across the front of his body, Dexter realized that his cock was partially stiffened. He would have loved to ask Maggie if she was certain she didn't want to get it on, but he was pretty sure she would either say no or shoot him in the balls with his gun.

"They're starving down there," he said with a more solemn tone, wrapping the towel around his body in an attempt to seem like he was taking the situation more seriously. "I promised them I would find us food. Don't worry, I'm not changing our deal. Half of what's here comes to me for protecting you, and I will continue to protect you without asking for anymore for me and my friends."

He waited to hear Maggie's reply.

 

[BellaMiles]

Just as Richard was admiring her tits and shaved crotch, Carla was admiring his steadily hardening cock and the fit, muscular body that went with it. She found herself thinking that Kimmie had been a fool to give up a man who was obviously built to please a hungry woman and simultaneously wondering what Richard had done to cause the other woman to do so.

It was only a moment later than Carla's legs were wrapped around Richard's waist as he lowered them both to the patch of grass as he manipulated his body to put the swollen head of his cock at her already wet hole. Carla moved with him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she essentially impaled herself upon him.

She cried out at the sharp pain; perhaps the foreplay Richard had sworn off had been called for? But after grimacing a bit and recovering from the discomfort, Carla pushed her crotch forward again; Richard's cock sunk a couple of inches into her tight pussy, eliciting another cry.

"Wait!" she demanded, moving her wetness back and forth just a bit to spread her body's natural lube. Then pushing forward one more time, Carla demanded, "Lay back. I want on top."

Back onto the semi-dry grass they went, and without hesitation, Carla began riding Richard's impressive manhood like a jockey pushing her horse hard for the finish line. She'd never been a loud lover, capable to reaching climax with little more audible result than heavy breathing. But despite her rather busy sex life, it had been a while since Carla had had a cock inside her the size of Richards. She was crying softly with each exhale, the volume getting just a bit louder with each of their opposing thrusts.

"Oh...! Fuck!" she cried out before drawing a deep breath, holding it for several seconds, letting it gush out, and repeating again twice more before she gave out a long, soft cry as the euphoria exploded throughout her body. Carla tried to keep up her movements but she was losing control of herself. The only thing she could manage as she began to collapse down upon Richard was a desperate, "Don't stop!"