One part of my brain recognized that this was a strange, forced intimacy. But at the same time I realized that this was the closest I’ve been to a man for a long time, and it felt good.
“Are you still cold?” Jerod asked faintly and I realized he wasn’t merely whispering. He was hoarse as well.
I started to reassure him that I was better, was going to be all right, but then stopped. It occurred to me that he was probably being considerate and trying to respect my modesty. I figured he wanted to know if he should move his body away from mine. Fearing the sudden loss of his intimate warmth, I desperately didn’t want him to move. I needed his protective embrace.
“I’m still pretty cold,” I said, which was true enough. I was relieved when he shifted his naked body, wrapping his arms and legs a little more tightly around mine, and then adjusted the makeshift cover of sweats around us both.
I lay there, in his arms, desperate to know his thoughts. Without looking at him, I asked, “Why did you do that?”
“You were freezin’ and shivering’ something awful,” Jerod said, “and I didn’t know what else to do. From the EMT classes I took, I knew you were suffering from hypothermia and shock.”
“Thank you. I realize that now. I meant up on the deck. You had to know you could get killed trying to help me.” I turned my face up toward his.
“I dunno, I didn’t think,” he responded, looking down at my eyes. “I just saw what Jesus was tryin’ to do and just couldn’t stand by. I couldn’t let that sadistic asshole get away with humiliating you.”
“But, Jerod, you don’t even know me that well. And besides, I haven’t always been nice to you.” Right there, in the vulnerability of my nakedness, it dawned on me that Jerod may not be the self-absorbed jerk that I originally thought.
“I think I know you pretty well. I’ve been in your classroom for a couple of months now and I’ve seen ya work with kids,” he answered. “Besides, I saw what you were tryin’ to do. You were trying to protect your students and keep them from getting killed. Perhaps you forgot that our Arab brothers don’t have as high a regard for women as the all-American male.”
I glanced around, trying to puzzle out where we were. “Jerod, what happened? How did we get here? I don’t remember anything after I hit the water.”
“I don’t exactly know. I’d guess the collision with the freezin’ water knocked you unconscious, but I didn’t see that.” He took a breath and relaxed his grip on me a bit. “I was knocked out after Jesus hit me with his rifle and I didn’t come to till I was in the water. I woke up swallowin’ half the lake and got myself to the surface, spittin’ and coughing up water, that’s when I saw you going under. I swam down but the water was so dark, I couldn’t find you.” He looked at me, tension in his face. “I grabbed a quick breath and went down two more times, but still couldn’t find any sign of ya. Could feel my body numbing from the cold and knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.”
“How did you get to me?”
“Dumb luck, I think. I was pretty sure I knew where you went down, so I took another deep breath and dove as deep as I could. I couldn’t see much of anything in the water so, as I swam down, I waved my hands back and forth, just tryin’ to bump into you. Just when my lungs were ready to bust, I felt your arm. I grabbed it and held on for dear life and headed to the surface.”
“How did you get us out of the water without them seeing us?”
“I dunno. When I surfaced with you, I glanced up at the deck, but couldn’t see anythin’. I tried to listen, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing. So I dragged you out of the water under the deck, all the while expectin’ to see bullets exploding around me. Didn’t happen and by the time I got you up on the mud, you weren’t breathin’. Then I didn’t think of anything else and gave you mouth to mouth until you spit out some water, coughed a few times and started breathin’ again.”
We were so close in that tight space that the vision of his intent mouth on mine flooded my brain. “Yeah, but where are we?” I asked, my glance wandering around our small space.
“Well, I crawled and dragged you all the way under the deck and found a narrow window that opened into the downstairs locker room,” Jerod explained. “I forced it open. The damn opening was a little tight, but I managed t’ get through it and then pulled you inside. I didn’t know where the terrorists were or if they’d come down here. Hell, I dunno how many there are. So I figured I had to find some place for us to hide. I found this big closet in Coach Baumer’s office and thought we could hide here, at least temporarily.
“I cleared out some old football equipment, just threw it in the corner, and then found some old sweat suits and covered you with them. But I guess your body temperature had dropped too much by then, and, well...” he stumbled in his explanation for the first time. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Embarrassed, he lowered his chin.
With one finger, I raised his face so he was looking at me again, his eyes two round question marks. I said, “You did great,” and I nuzzled up closer to him. I scooted up a little, so that our faces were even and our gazes locked. “Thanks,” I said and kissed him. Nothing major, mind you, just a simple brief kiss, my lips on his for just a few seconds.
“Dee Dee, wait, Dee Dee...” he protested, but I cut him off with another kiss.
I think it was the second, more insistent kiss that did it.
Chapter 39
“Mr. President, you must act now!” Dean Settler was up at the front of the room, gesturing at the monitor that held the frozen photo of the terrorist firing at the helicopter. “This man just declared war on the United States!” He poked a bony finger at the screen.
“Obviously, we can’t give Akadi up,” said Garcia. “We’d be the laughingstock of the free world.”
“Aside from that brilliant observation, Jerry, what do you advise?” demanded an irate Gregory. His right hand massaged his temple and then ran absently through his once perfectly styled hair. “Harold?”
Sometime in the past thirty minutes, Samson’s beige and black bow tie had been released from its knot and hung, dangling down the front of his shirt. “Sir, I think we need a plan. I don’t think a show of force will do much right now. Anyone who’s been anywhere near Hammerville knows we have enough troops there to start a war in a small third world country.” Harold let his glance move from the President to the other cabinet members. “But that didn’t stop the terrorists from dropping right into the middle of those troops. Hell, we don’t even know how many terrorists there are or how heavily armed they are.”
“How many children are in the school?” Gregory asked.
“From the best estimates that my people can get from the locals, approximately 500, counting both students and teachers,” answered Samson.
“Jesus H. Christ,” said the President.
“That’s exactly why we can’t wait around until these lunatics start executing children,” bellowed Settler, throwing a fist at the huge computer monitor again.
“Tom, any issues deploying one of your units from HBE to the school? What do you have there?” Gregory asked.
“No sir, Mr. President.” Dickson looked up from the report he was studying. “I have three units in Hammerville. Two are SWAT teams and one’s an Urban Assault Team. I am concerned that we don’t have a Hostage Rescue Team in the vicinity and I’ve ordered one to be flown there from Pittsburgh. It’s the closest one on alert and the HRT should arrive within the hour. We can have one of the deployed units at the school site in ten minutes, without sacrificing necessary security at the prison.” He shifted his massive frame uncomfortably in the upholstered chair. “Right now we’re coordinating with local law enforcement. The chief’s been informed of an incident at the school, but no more. He and his deputy are stationed a half-mile away on the only road to the high school, keeping the media and any others away.”
“Christ, the damn media!” Gregory declared. “That’s all we need.” His thumb tapped furiously on the top of the pe
n.
“Yes, sir,” shot back Dickson, “but I don’t know how long we can keep the lid on this thing. If nothing else, word of the attack on our chopper has spread around the prison by now. Something’s going to leak soon.”
“What do you propose, Tom?” asked the President.
“I think we need a stealth frontal assault by one of the SWAT teams, who could then sweep around the back. That might give us the eyes we need as well as possibly our best chance at getting to the terrorists.”
“Harold, you’ve been the closest to these guys all along. What do you think they will do?” asked Gregory.
“Sir, I think Tom’s plan is sound but a little premature,” Samson answered. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. They know we have all these troops. We could just as easily be walking into a trap.”
The President shook his head slowly. “Any response from our fax, Harry?”
“Not yet, Mr. President. We faxed it three different times already to the number we got off the first fax. We know they were transmitted successfully, all three times. But we’ve gotten no response back. The phone company says that fax number is in the principal’s office in the north end of the school.”
Samson slid his chair back, rose and walked to the shelves in the rear of the Situation Room. He retrieved a set of computer blueprints and spread the printouts on the table. “When we saw the two terrorists,” he pointed to a drawing of the deck, “they were at the south end of the building with the hostages. It’s possible they haven’t even seen the faxes, which were sent to this part of the building, right here. But they could have just as easily seen the faxes and ignored them. Maybe they never intended to pay them any attention.”
“What about any other communication? I can’t believe there isn’t any way to get them to pick up the phone?” Gregory asked.
Harold shook his head. “We’ve checked it out, sir. It doesn’t look like it. The school was built with the new ‘Voice Over IP’ technology and someone who knows what they’re doing has gotten in there and fixed it so the whole system is tied up.”
“What about cell phones?”
“My people thought of this as well, and we’ve gotten the numbers of many of the staff and students in the building,” continued Samson. “They’ve been calling them, but so far haven’t gotten an answer on any of the lines.”
President Gregory rubbed his hand across his temple again. “We need to get some communication inside that school. We’re blind without it.”
“Yes sir, we’ll keep trying.”
There was an extended pause in the Situation Room, and then Dean Settler broke the silence. “Sir, I realize this is not about politics, but we should not forget what happened in Russia.”
“Your point, Dean?” asked the President, turning toward his Chief of Staff.
“Well, sir,” began Settler hesitantly, “the election is in four days and we can’t pretend that the timing of this attack is coincidental.”
“We’re talking about hundreds of children and adults! I’ll worry about the political fallout when this crisis is over.”
“You’re right, Mr. President.” The Chief of Staff walked over from the bank of monitors to the conference table. “I understand, sir. But please remember that Putin held back and hesitated with the Chechen rebels. Many believe that his hesitation cost hundreds of lives.”
When no one responded, Settler pressed his point. “I’m just saying that inaction on our part may cost students’ lives as well as costing you the election.”
The silence in the room that followed Settler’s challenge stretched into sixty seconds, the only sounds from the TV’s and internet screens and the persistent clicking of the President’s pen. All eyes turned toward Ryan Gregory, who continued to study the pages in front of him. As the powerful men around the table watched, the President’s eyes drifted to the monitor, which captured the blurred image of the attacking terrorists and settled there. When his gaze returned to his team, he had made a decision.
“Tom, I want you to get one of the SWAT teams to the checkpoint and coordinate with the chief. If this thing gets out, there’s going to be a veritable mob trying to get to that school--parents, journalists, nosy neighbors. The police chief’s going to need all the help he can get. But I want the unit to stay there and wait until the HRT arrives. I don’t want them to approach the school yet. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, Mr. President. With your leave, sir.” Tom Dickson bounded for the door.
The President turned back to Garcia. “Get your people on these two!” He pointed to the blurred figures frozen on the computer monitor. “I want to know everything about them, where they’re from, who they’re with! And I want it now!”
“Yes sir!” Garcia said. “We’ll do everything we can, sir.”
“Okay, Harold, you need to find some way to communicate with someone inside the school. It’s going to be hell to know what to do, if we don’t have any idea what’s going on inside.”
“Yes Mr. President, we’ll keep at it. There’s got to be something. In my experience, these guys always screw up some place. We just have to find it.”
“God help us, I hope you’re right, Harold,” responded the President.
Chapter 40
I think it was the second, insistent kiss that did it. The first was innocent, instinctual, you know, a “thanks for saving my life” kiss. The second though was deliberate, longer, tinged with desperation. As we huddled together, naked bodies already touching, as my lips met the smoothness of his, I felt something inside me stir.
I know you probably think I was crazy. Here we were about to be killed with the building under siege and we were acting like a couple of horny teenagers. I was aching all over and terrified for us and for the students, but I wanted to shut everything else out, at least for a moment. I desperately needed to feel alive.
Jerod’s southern manners tried to assert themselves and he said, “Dee Dee, you just came through a horrible shock.”
But his deep-set, emerald eyes betrayed another story, so I kissed him again. This time I felt him stir at the kiss and his hands slowly unlocked their tight grip and began drifting down my back. Then, coming out of our third, even longer kiss, I shifted my body against him, easing away just an inch or so. That’s what gave it away. Without looking, I felt the organ between his legs, now released from its constricted space, rise up, skittering across the flesh of my tender thighs and stiffen.
Actually, I’m glad God arranged it so a guy can’t ever fake it. I looked down and said, “It’s good to know that we’re both alive.”
Jerod’s almost embarrassed smile met mine. “I’d apologize, but when I’m naked with a beautiful woman, some things are jus’ beyond my control.” His fingers crawled a little further down my back and he pulled me closer to him again. I shifted slightly again and somehow his fingers found their way to my behind, pulling my body toward him again.
As if aware of his warm hands cradling my bottom, my own fingers suddenly felt cold, as if caught in the icy water again. I pulled them from behind him and flexed them. “Man, my hands are still freezing.” I breathed into them.
“Well, I think I can help.” He started to withdraw his hands from my behind, but I stopped him.
“You put those back, they feel quite good there.” I tilted my head up toward his face, the quick movement of my head making me feel faint. I waited for the dizziness to pass.
By the time I could think clearly again, I was pleased that he immediately did as he was told. Maybe this guy had possibilities. I cupped both hands together and blew into them again, warming them slightly, and a mischievous idea struck me. By this time we were both a little crazy. Before Jerod could react, I wrapped both hands around his now hard arousal.
He flinched at first, backing away slightly in the small space and uttering a sharp “Oh-oh-oh!” and I could feel it slightly deflating, but I didn’t relent. I did as we had been taught to warm something up; I rubbed both ha
nds vigorously around and around. Although I couldn’t see that well in the semidarkness, my hands could feel the stiffness return...with a noticeable increase in the warmth as well. “Oh-okay,” he said and the fingers kneaded the skin on my butt a little more vigorously.
I realized that my body and head were aching and I was reeling from fear and grief, but for those long moments in that closet, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my pain, about what the world would think. I was desperate and only wanted to feel alive. I was anxious to keep the terror at bay, and so was Jerod, I think.
Keeping one hand extended across my rear, he moved his other to the front of me and began a slow, vigorous massage on my left breast, caressing the tender skin and rubbing the nipple back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. As much as I could in that tight space, I lay back and let him, though my hands never lost their attentive grasp. Then, in an acrobatic feat I would have thought impossible in our cramped quarters, he somehow maneuvered his head around so his mouth was devouring my right breast.
“Jerod,” I said quietly, “this is hardly how I pictured it, but we may be dead in the next few hours. I want you to make love to me!”
“Dee Dee, you sure this is what you want?”
I could see the yearning in his eyes and could feel his desire pulsing hard against my now, very busy fingers. I knew what he wanted, so I tried to make it easy for him. “Jerod, just stop trying to be the southern gentleman. Well, you’ve been trying to get into my pants since you met me, haven’t you?”
He started to deny it and I said, “It’s not nice to lie when you’re this vulnerable.” I gave a little squeeze on his arousal.
“If you insist,” he whispered into my ear. Abruptly he stopped.
To be honest, in that moment of passion I hadn’t thought about the small space of our cramped quarters or anything else for that matter. Driven by desperation, I wanted to feel Jerod inside me, to remind me that we were both alive and I didn’t think of much else.
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