Samuel, finally out of his debrief, found Laura and their children, then laid down for a few hours knowing he needed the sleep, and hoping against hope they would all survive the coming days!
*****
DAY 11: 0730 ET MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH
"Come on, buddy! It's time for school!" I called out to my son Paul, who was hiding in our makeshift bathroom. The bathroom contained a water collection basin and a portable chemical toilet for now. I was assured they would eventually install the necessary plumbing and fixtures a true bathroom had.
It had originally been a large office supply closet but I’d had it converted to a makeshift bathroom because I'd be damned if my kids would traipse down three flights of stairs in the middle of the night just to go pee. This room was just off their bedroom with no other entryway, meaning it was as safe as I could make it.
"Coming, Dad!" he called back, but I could hear the resignation in his voice. He was so not looking forward to going to school again. He’d probably thought this zombie apocalypse meant no more homework. No such luck for him. I grinned at the thought. We needed to keep the young kids busy, those too small to help in the fields gathering food, yet too old for the massive daycare we currently seemed to be developing. Clarrisa had already left for a food gathering party, and I had just come back from carrying Emma down to the day care we had established.
Paul finally opened the door and came out, his head bobbing from side to side while tilted downward and his shoulders slumped. Wow, he was depressed at the thought of school! That thought made me grin bigger. He needed an education. We would not be in this survival state forever. We were getting a handle on the zombies even though the worst was yet to come. I had some ideas on how to exterminate mass quantities of undead but did not know if it would work until we tried it. No, it did not involve nuclear weapons. I laughed at that thought also. I had a plan.
"You OK, buddy?" I inquired while smiling at him.
"It's not funny, Dad. I hate school."
"Sure, but Momma Jean and I think you need school. Soon enough things will be back to normal. You don't want the other kids to know more than you, do you?" Momma Jean was what he called Jean. Paul loved her and was always sitting in her lap with his head resting between those two massive tits she had. I wished I could shrink myself and do the same, sometimes, but in the end, I knew that playing with them was several orders of magnitude better than simply using them as pillows. Jean's mother he called Grandma Jean, and she doted on him like one of her own grandchildren. That honestly made me very happy. I was not sure what I would have done if she hadn't.
"That's okay, Dad, honest!"
"No, it will make you angry that you don't know as much, and you know it!" I emphasized my last remark. It was true. He would get upset. He had a bit of a temper and I was not about to allow it to get worse. "You love Momma Jean, right, buddy?"
"Of course I do, Dad! I miss Momma though."
"Yeah, me too, little guy, but Momma made the choice to stay in Grand Rapids at work. She's helping survivors like we are." I breathed a silent prayer, hoping my last comment was true. We had no idea if Butterworth was still operational or not. Jason had not checked in for days and I was worried about him. Our daily broadcasts mentioned the Reaper, with a complete description. Provide help if possible, was the gist of our message. Damn it! I wished he would find a means of contacting us. Anything! We’d had no news out of Grand Rapids other than what Johnson and Reeves had told us when they arrived with more survivors they had rescued. Sure, Caitlin had her own priorities and her own thing going on, but she was still the mother of my children. I scowled in memory at everything that just went wrong with her. I was putting off declaring her dead as long as possible and I wanted to see the body before we even did that.
I stepped to the door and rapped it twice with my knuckles. Instantly it opened and a soldier looked in, rifle ready and eyes wary for possible danger.
"I think we're ready Bruce. Tell them to start the Humvee please." He nodded at my words and closed the door again. I wasn't hugely anal on formality. I did not need to hear him say Yes Sir, to the obvious. I’d had that talk with them and was glad it had penetrated.
"Let's go, my little ninja." Paul was wearing a camouflage headband one of the soldiers had given him. I thought it was cute, and he sure loved it. Christ, last night he had removed the blind rods from two of the windows so he'd have a pair of pretend swords. He was all over the place and needed direction. School was a blessing.
Together we walked down the stairs, holding hands. I was fully weaponed up, as I called it. I trusted few and took no chances anymore. My eyes roamed at micro-intervals, seeking the slightest danger, and my right hand constantly twitched as it sought the gun it might need at any moment. Two weeks ago I would have been arrested for having a fully automatic M4 carbine and machete slung across my back, a K-Bar, three semi-automatic pistols, and eight grenades strung across my chest. Now, it was simply a method of survival. My Kevlar elbow pads itched where the straps dug into my biceps but I wouldn't loosen them. The ability to face smash a zombie in close quarters had made the difference between life and death more than a few times in the last week and a half. Also, few knew I had a two kilo block of C4 in my right cargo pocket with a five second detonation pull primer attached. Like I said, if anybody came at us, it was guaranteed to get very ugly, real fast! I no longer thought of myself as the carefree player. This was too real and our children were too important. I’d grown up fast. Oh, sure I missed the old lifestyle, but responsibilities have a habit of making peeps mature.
In moments, we were outbound and it only took two minutes to drive to the high school. Jean had cleared out several classrooms to begin instruction in; I was happy that my son would be with other kids his own age besides Eric, whom I honestly also considered as a son.
The One Ninety-Third and assorted elements had been using the high school as a barracks since yesterday, but we were quickly moving them out to Shady Rest Retirement and the adjoining apartment complex behind Wesco. It was sad, really, because most retirees had taken the vaccine and were no longer with us. That really sucked, but was part of our new life.
Walking in through the front entrance of the Newaygo High School, we turned right. Straight ahead was the cafeteria and the general lounge area that was filled with soldiers and their dependents along with other survivors. To the left were the majority of the classrooms and their long corridors, currently converted to barracks. To the right, where we were headed, was a short corridor that contained the offices, the gym, and the library with its computer center. I opened the wide glass door to the offices, seeing Jean inside, and marched my little man in as he was starting to drag his feet.
"Hey, baby," I called out in greeting and she looked up with a smile before seeing Paul's face, and I swear she stifled a giggle. Wow, she was beautiful. So much so, it took my breath away. Today she was wearing a soft pink pullover sweater and a mid-length plaid skirt with a matching pink-checkered pattern. The combination was terrific. I'd slept through the alarm this morning and was still cuddled up to Cara when Jean left at 6:30. All I barely remember was her kissing me goodbye, which was my cue to drag my tired ass out of bed.
"Hi Jay, hi Paul, and how's our little ninja today? Sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, Paul, but I had to get here early to get school ready." She came around the counter to hug him. Boy, I wanted one of those hugs. Last night I had actually paid more attention to Cara than to Jean. Not that I’d intended to, it's just how it happened. It had been awhile since I'd been with Cara, and she was very demanding and Jean very understanding. I leaned down and tilted her chin up with my finger, kissing her softly and licking her lower lip as ours parted. I heard her sharp intake of breath and those tits swelled right out while her face slowly turned red. I grinned, but inwardly I was feeling a bit scared. My feelings for Jean were getting out of control and I hated that loss.
"I'm OK, but I don't wanna be here." Paul was pouting now, and i
nwardly I groaned.
"Well, you like painting, don't you?" Jean smiled at him, knowing he did.
"Sure!" He was smiling now, which was a very good sign.
"Good. First lesson today is a painting contest. Maybe you can paint a picture of your daddy?"
"Maybe paint a Reaper doll," I growled. Damn Reaper dolls were all over the place. They were a major hit with the kids, and damn me if I'd yet to see a Jay doll. Jean giggled, instinctively knowing what I was thinking and took Paul's hand.
"Why don't you go with me, Paul, and Daddy can wait here for me to get back. I need to talk to him for a minute."
"Oh, alright!" He let loose with a big sigh but he went, holding her hand tightly. Routine was good for him.
I wandered around for a while, and almost asked one of my guard detail if they had a pack of cards, but Jean finally returned.
"You waited, thank you, darling. I really need to talk to you." She smiled huge and took a deep breath when she walked in and my eyes bulged. I swear by all that is holy I could never get bored looking at that huge set of lungs she carried around. Only Ashley's tits were bigger, and I think I was a bit scared of her. I knew she was around here somewhere but Master Sergeant Trask had mentioned some additional training for her this early morning so she hadn't shown up yet.
"Why wouldn't I, baby?"
"Never mind, follow me please." I swear as I walked behind her, that her ass had a little extra bob from side to side in it. She was still talking though.
"Currently, the K through second grades is fifteen to a class, but that will double when the older children are through with the food gathering. I would prefer to keep it at fifteen per teacher but we just do not have enough trained staff yet. Later this morning I'll be assessing the skills of Lieutenant Colonel Botello's survivor group, and maybe I'll find some trained teachers there. Here, this is my new office as Assistant Civil Manager slash School Principal," and I heard that delightful giggle again, so I grabbed her and pulled her to me, kissing her hard again. Damn, I wanted her.
"Silly," she whispered breaking the kiss and tugging on me. "At least wait until you've seen my office.”
"Okay, fine," I grunted, following her in. It was a nice office, though not very roomy, with a big desk, a computer station to one side and file cabinets behind it, separated by a large leather chair and windows lining one wall. "This is what you need up at the complex. Nice desk and chair." She reached behind me and locked the door, and my hopes soared. She then crossed to the windows and closed the blinds.
"Actually, there's a matching set in the vice principal’s office up the hall, and since we won't need one for the first few years probably, I may just requisition it," and she chuckled. I'm telling you what. Normally female giggles or chuckles set my teeth on edge, but from her they were perfect. Especially the way she always put her hand to her mouth when she did so. She patted the huge leather chair with a smile. "Come, try out the chair. It's comfy."
I needed no further urging and moved around the desk where she was standing, and sat down while putting my hands on the edges of the seat to make myself comfortable. Immediately she sat down in my lap straddling me. Okay, that was a bit of a surprise, but I wasted no time and yanked her top up before burying my face between her lovely boobs while drooling.
"Wait, darling. I want to say something first," and she yanked her top down. Damn it, what now?
"Sure, baby. What's up?"
"I know your busy, hun. I know you have other girls too. I'm not complaining about that. I just wanted you to know I want more one on one time with you. It just seems like every time we're together lately, Cara is there also, and I know you and Corey are doing things in that big command truck. It would be nice sometime if it were just you and me. Not another girl, and no kids, but if you don't have time, I do understand. I really love you, and wanted you to know that too." Her head was tilted downward and she kissed me softly. Her expression indicated she might cry, and I prayed to God she didn't. I swallowed hard and thought about lying, then decided to just get it off my chest.
"Jean, baby. I love you too. So much, you take my breath away when I see you. I may not act like it, but I do. Maybe it's a defense mechanism within me because normally I shy from marriage, but if I were to pick one girl it would be you. I mean that. This whole multiple girl thing kinda got out of control. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy it, but God! We will do something together this evening. I promise you we will." I fumed and struggled for something else to say to explain my feelings which were in turmoil right then, but she hushed me by raising her sweater, then pulling her halter down while shoving those huge boobs in my face.
"Hush, darling. That's what I wanted to hear. Thank you, and guess what?" She was chuckling again and my cock was rock hard.
"Mfffmmggghh!" I mumbled around a triple mouthful of tittie.
Then she grabbed my hand, which had been resting on her hip, and guided it between her legs. My eyes grew wider as I touched soft bare skin, then a slick wetness below a hardening nub, and I realize she was not wearing panties. At that moment, I truly realized there was a God in heaven and that he loved me.
"I'm not wearing panties so hurry up!"
*****
DAY 11: 1000 ET MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH
The Reaper woke and stifled a groan as he sat up. Light from the window illuminated the room brightly. His side hurt, though it was bearable and not incapacitating, he realized when he swung his legs over the edge of the cot and stood up. The leg and forearm wounds had been minor and did not bother him at all. Holding his side, he stretched to get the kinks out of his back and winced when he pulled on the stitches. He would have to take it easy for a day or get them to add a few more stitches for insurance. He grunted at the thought as he pulled his shirt on. A knock sounded at the door, then it opened and Alethea walked in. It was then that the Reaper realized his pants were on the chair next to the bed. He shrugged and reached for them.
"Reaper, good to see you’re up." Alethea ignored his semi-nude state and sat in the chair next to the bed. His pants on and buckled, the Reaper sat down on the bed while reaching for his boots.
"Thanks for patching me up, Alethea."
"You're welcome. How's the side? It was your only real wound, the others were grazes."
"A bit stiff, but not bad."
"Good. Ready to eat? It's dog chow but nutritious." Then Alethea started laughing at the Reaper's expression. "I'm kidding. There is plenty of food out there."
The Reaper just shook his head and followed her out the door then down a long dark hallway. At the end, another door let them into a large room with quite a few windows where a buffet was set up, along with a multitude of tables, mostly empty. Alethea handed him a plate and he helped himself to mashed potatoes and stew and a stack of pancakes with a liberal dose of syrup. The food was being heated by small camping Sterno cans. They sat down at a nearby table and the Reaper ate while Alethea watched and filled him in.
They had nearly a thousand survivors here, and as the Reaper listened to Alethea, he realized that at least forty percent of these survivors were children. Some children ran through while he was eating, and he though he recognized one from those he and Travis had saved with the help of Mouse and Dane. Alethea's plan was to eventually move to a different warehouse complex where they would be by one of the city's larger parks. There they could grow food and raise farm animals. The Reaper nodded at her words, then spoke.
"Well, fresh eggs would be nice, as would some bacon, but I think you need to move out of the city, Alethea. Have you been listening to the broadcasts out of Newaygo?"
"Sure, but this is our home. We have no intention of leaving."
"I hate to tell you this but I grew up near here. Grand Rapids does not have a park big enough to grow enough food to feed a thousand people. You get the rest of the city's survivors in here and suddenly you have two thousand people. You could plant every park and not have enough. Two thousand people eat a lot of eggs too." Jason p
ointed to his right. The direction did not matter. "Thirty miles that way are more farms than you can shake a stick at, with produce still in the fields and farm animals still alive in their pens and fields. You ever watch zombies try to catch a cow that don't want to be caught?" He nodded at her expression. "They can't catch them. Critters move too fast and are dangerous when scared."
"Reaper, this city is all I know."
"Then learn a new skill. I'm just saying you can't do it here. Not with this many survivors. You need more farmland, more animals, and distance between you and the hordes of Hell. Besides, kids need fresh milk. You won't get that here."
"I'll give it some thought, Reaper."
"You do that. You might also consider electricity. Last I heard, Jay told me he had a plan to bring electricity back to the Newaygo area. Fremont also, I think, and possibly some other smaller towns in that area. Power is a good thing, Alethea."
"I said I would think about it, Reaper. Don't push me! It's hard to leave my home." The Reaper nodded at her words and dropped the subject.
As Jason finished eating, they discussed the refugee situation and the various survivor groups the Sirens had contacted. His plate was soon empty, and he waved off seconds as he rose to accompany Alethea on a tour of the facility. He was looking forward to seeing their defenses and a possible high vantage point he could use to make the line in Purgatory a bit longer, as he knew he needed a few days to heal before moving on. It was as they were leaving that he wondered where Travis had gone.
Legacy of the Living Page 32
