Chapter Twenty Three - Shelter From The Storm

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A couple of days later, we came across our first group of survivors. They were based in an old prison. I suppose that made sense. If the walls were high enough to keep the prisoners in, they'd keep anyone else out. We spotted movement on the walls and could see the smoke from a cooking fire rising from inside.

Mike told us to stay in cover then advanced to their 'Do Not Pass This Line,' sign. His rifle was held across his chest rather than pointed towards them.

"Anyone home?" he shouted. "We've got some news."

An elderly man stuck his head out from the top of the wall. When I say elderly, he was in his mid fifties. That was elderly, these days. He looked slightly tatty and had a white, bushy beard but there was nothing unusual in that.

"Ow do!" he said. His tone was cautiously friendly.

Mike let him know about the arrival of the Australians and about the feeding station they were setting up.

"That's good to 'ear," the man said. "Didn't rightly know how we were goin' to get through t'winter." His tone remained impassive but even from my distant position, I could see his relief.

There was a slight pause as a brief conversation happened behind their defences.

"You just out here spreading the news?" the man asked eventually.

"No. We're trying to catch up with a gang of about fifteen men, led by a guy by the name of Deemo."

"Short guy, dark hair?" the man asked.

Mike looked to me and I nodded. "That sounds like him," he said.

"Hope you're not friends of his."

Mike laughed at that. "No, I don't think 'friend' is the right word. Try 'Abaddon, bringer of Death' instead. That gang brings a whole new level of meaning to the word 'Evil'."

"They tried to raid us a few weeks ago. Shot up a couple of guys who were working in a field and grabbed one of our kids. We don't know whether she was dead or not."

"I hope, for her sake, she was," Mike said flatly.

The man looked at him as if he wanted to be angry then nodded. There was another brief, muttered conversation.

"You want to come in for the night?" the man asked. We can't offer you owt to eat but there's dry beds and a bit of company. We might even manage a spot of warm water. Looks like it might be a good night not to be outside." He nodded to the horizon where storm clouds were starting to gather.

Mike thought about this then accepted their offer.

You immediately knew you could trust the group. There were about twenty members including a couple of kids and, by sacrificing a couple of days of our own rations, we could make sure that everyone had a decent meal that night.

After we had all eaten, we were approached by a woman. I could see the pain etched on her face. "They say you might know what happened to my daughter," she said.

Mike looked at her then looked at me. "The kids should leave," he said to the elderly chap who he had spoken to on the wall. He appeared to be their leader.

"And Stab, go and have a bath," he added.

"But I..."

"That wasn't a request, it was an order."

"Yes, Sarge!" My feet were moving before my brain had the chance to get involved. It was, I suppose, another case of, 'You can have your breakdown in your own time'.

But as another of the women led me away, Theodora slipped out and gave the distraught woman a hug.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" Mike was saying to her as I left.

The cells we had been allocated only had a single bed in them so I had the unheard of luxury of a room all to myself. I was lying in a comfortable half doze after my bath when I was disturbed by Mike and James passing outside my room.

"Go on, then," I heard Mike say. "Have fun!"

"Is that an order, Sarge?"

Mike laughed.

"And get some sleep too," he said in a slightly louder voice. Clearly I was intended to hear. "We're off at sparrows and I expect you both to be alert.

"Yes, Sarge!"

"And don't do anything I wouldn't," he added with a laugh as he headed for his room.

It was high summer so there was still a little light filtering in through the small, high window so I had the pleasure of watching James undressing in the half light. He unzipped his sleeping bag then unzipped mine and climbed in next to me. It was only a single bed so we had to squeeze together but neither of us was complaining.

"Naughty girl," James whispered, running a hand over my body. "You're not wearing anything."

"I can put something on if you like," I replied, only half stifling a yawn as I stretched and wriggled into him.

"Then I'd just have to take it off again," he said. I could hear his smile though by now it was too dark to really see it.

We cuddled for a minute then, with another yawn, I said, "I'm just all sleepy after my bath. I'm afraid you're going to have to do all the work."

"Your wish," he said as he eased his body between my legs, "is my command." As his mouth latched on to one of my nipples, my legs wrapped around him and one of my heels started to rub gently along the cleft of his buttocks. As my head lolled back into the almost forgotten luxury of a bed, my fingers started to play through his long, still damp hair.

Embarrassingly, I must have fallen asleep for a bit. When I woke, his mouth was still attached to my nipple and he was just easing himself inside me. It was all too much for me and an uncontainable wave of passion surged through my body. That, of course, was, in turn, much too much for James and he only just made it fully inside me before he was driven to respond with his own fiery blasts.

I was eased from my sleep again when it was completely dark. His head was between my thighs with his tongue rubbing insistently over my nub as fingers plunged deep inside me. For some unknowable time I just lay there, relishing the way in which he was completely possessing my entire being until I felt driven to clamp my thighs together around his head. But his powerful arms eased my legs even further apart, splaying me utterly to his exquisite attention. That was much too much for me and my hips began to buck and spasm uncontrollably.

And yet again I was awoken, just as dawn was breaking. James was deep inside me, guiding me to yet another perfect peak of pleasure with slow, powerful strokes.

We were rudely interrupted by a banging on the door. "Come on, kiddies," Mike called. "Play time's over. Moving out in thirty."

But James didn't allow that to break his flow and, as I started to become loud, his mouth latched onto mine, silencing my cries of passion and driving the wave of liquid fire out between my legs. This, of course, triggered him to respond in kind.

"I don't want to get up... ever," I sighed as he hovered above me in a moment of perfect, post coital unity. He had his tender, adoring smile on his face.

"There'll be other nights like this," he promised.

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