The Bunker, Ch 11 - A Monkey Wrench (Patreon)

Ch 11 – A Monkey Wrench

The zoom call with the other educators had gone well.  Though it did carry a curveball.  A few of them previously attended my seminars on education restructuring.  The English, art, and music teachers were delighted to hear about my advocacy for their subjects as necessary for developing solid STEM students.  And, thereby, good critical thinkers in general.  As a result, I was elected by the group to be the spokesperson and chair of the working group.  We had no boundaries given on how we organized education in the bunker, so we had a wide-ranging brainstorming session that ended with a lot of food for thought that we would all do additional work on before the next meeting.

I did at least get the whole group broken into sub committees.  Some were by subject and some were focused on advancement expectations.  The only thing we were sure on was no more social promotion.  Each student had to demonstrate competency in each subject in order to advance.

Sarah was sitting beside me the entire meeting, taking notes.  She declared before hand she would be useful for the education process in some way.  She was practically vibrating with joy when the group selected me to lead them.  As soon as the call ended, she jumped me.  Fortunately, we were in an upstairs room converted for an office space.  And the kids were outside playing.  It’s pretty awesome when the guy you want to be is the guy that gets your lady’s engine revved to the redline.

That had been a few days ago.  Now I lay stretched out on the couch, well, one of the couches, reading a rough outline plan by the math professors and the math education professionals on retraining for the early childhood educators.  Those of us that taught math intensive subjects wanted to put an end to students learning math from people who themselves did not understand it - and hated it. This was one generational curse whose time was up.

Well, that was the idea anyway.  We were probably not the first to attack this problem, but we were going to give it a go.  It truly saddened me every time I’d work a problem at the board with my physics students – not my gen ed guys – folks that were bound for engineering schools or medical professions, and they’d sit there amazed as I approximated the answer in my head about as fast as they could work it on their calculator.  They should have been taught the same tricks I had been given long ago.  But they weren’t.  Somebody just gave up on them.  These were smart kids.  If they’d only been given the challenge, they could have risen to it.  But no one ever bothered to try.  I and some of the others who learned similar techniques already made those recommendations for the math subject matter group.  We were going to start training brains again, not just button pushing.

While I was stewing, and reminding myself of the opportunity we had, Jessica came in.  She had a few cleaning supplies in a carrier, and went about wiping surfaces and looking for loose bits of trash.  All the while, she was humming and occasionally singing.  I set aside the outline to watch.  Jess always gave me a sense of joy.  Of peace.

It didn’t take her long to notice the attention.  She stepped lively, practically dancing to the couch I was on, and extended a hand.  I took it and rose at her suggestion.  With an enormous grin, she turned her back to me cozied up and writhed against me and sang out loud.

“…your love is surprising, I can feel it rising, all the joy that’s growing, deep inside of me…”

Shocked, I grabbed her and turned her to face me.  “Did you just make a worship song erotic?!”

She pulled her earpods out.  “I am a devout Christian woman in love with her master.  Worship and horny get tangled up together.”  She delivered the last part with a wink.

My mouth gaped open.  And frankly, I was a little afraid.  This could go very badly.

“Whoa, Jessica.  That’s … that’s not okay.”

She laughed and gave me a quick kiss.  “The objects thereof are not getting confused my love.  But the acts are … joined.  Sometimes.”

The uneasy feeling wasn’t yet mollified.  “Jess, this is very dangerous territory.”

She fixed me with a steady, no nonsense gaze.  “I know exactly who’s who.  I have no difficulty keeping that separate.  The BA may think they have bound me, subjugated me.  But in my heart, I am free.  I am free because of God.  I am free because of you.  I am happy where I am.  I embrace the life I have, and who I have it with.”  She laid her head on my chest.  “I told you before, your love is amazing.  I meant it then, and I mean it now.  I know you struggle with your duties and expectations.  I just want you to understand how happy and fulfilled I am, sharing this life with you.”  She looked up at me as she spoke the last few sentences.  “Every time you touch me, I feel love.  Whether you’re tender or rough, I know … I know I am safe with you.  If you shoved your dick down my throat and kept it there, blocking me from breathing … even as my vision greyed and I passed out, I would still trust you.”

I held her close, too overcome by emotion and responsibility to respond verbally.

She locked eyes with me again.  “That’s exactly why we are all safe with you.  I’ve distracted you from your work, though.  And given your reaction, I’m not really the one to help you settle.  I’ll discretely nudge one of the others this way.”

After receiving a kiss on her forehead, she slipped out of the room.  I took a seat on the couch again, without reclining.  A few minutes later, Ellie slipped in, a broad grin on her face.  She said nothing, just sat beside me, curled up close, laying her head against my shoulder.  She was young, but insightful.  I didn’t need anything sexual, just the comfort of a woman held close.

It was working too.  When Leslie came in shortly thereafter, I was feeling almost steady.

“Ooo, snuggle party?  or something more?  Can I join in?”

“Snuggling,” Ellie said gently.  “You are welcome to join us.”

Leslie happily burrowed in on my other side.  “This is nice.”

“MMmm-hmm” Ellie replied.

“So Jess decided to send two of you?”  I asked.

“What’s Jessica have to do with this?”  Leslie responded.

“She asked me to come spend time with master.  She said he was a bit unsettled and could use some comfort.”

“Oh.  Well, I’m here for a different reason.  I found something that you’ll want to know.  And, since this is your favorite place to sit and think, I started here.”  With that, she handed over a sheaf of paper.  Phone logs.  Paperclipped together in groups. Oh, each group was one number.  I vaguely recognized a few numbers as belonging to women in my house.  Every record showed one or more incoming calls from the same number.

The last set of logs showed an unfamiliar number with incoming and outgoing calls to the number that had called Jessica, Destiny, and the others.  The number on this set was a local number, so it was someone in town.  Or at least close to town.  When I got to the end of the log, Leslie’s handwritten note identified the number as Garfield’s cell phone.  And the common number showing up in all the records belonged to Frank Halverson.  The last page, loose from the rest was from the BA website.  It identified some of the low and middle level administrators for the Authority.  Above the name Frank Halverson was a headshot of the jackass that insisted on watching me fuck Nicole and Melanie that first night. 

******

Good thing Leslie found that information.  A few days later I received an Order to Appear from the office of Major General Keith Foxlin.  The general was in the high level of executives in the BA hierarchy, just a few levels below the BA council.  Not sure why a military guy was the one calling me in.  The order indicated I may be subject to disciplinary action, but gave no specifics.

The discussion as I prepped to leave was heated and left none of us happy.

“I’m going alone.  If it’s as bad as I think, I don’t want any of you within easy reach.  I want all of you safe here.  If they take me into custody, at least I won’t have to worry about what they’re doing to you.”

“Having me or Gabriela on hand to argue your case could stave off a negative outcome Kevin.  We know about contracts!  Let us help!”  Sarah was scared and angry and it was showing.  It was taking everything she had to not cry.  Jenn, standing partially behind her and to the side was barely holding back tears.  All of the ladies looked worried, and none to a small degree.  Jessica already hustled the kids upstairs, taking Ellie with her for ‘help’.  God Bless that woman.

“There aren’t any complicated contract rules to weed through, Sarah.  I’m going in to show I have been in compliance with the letter of the rules.  I have Leslie’s ace in the hole as a backup.”

“You don’t even know if the Standards Act is why they are bringing you in!” Sarah shouted.

“Hell, it hasn’t passed yet has it?”  Gabby observed.

“So you need someone that can argue a case with no notice.”

“Yeah, and you’ve never seen me do that, have you?”  I replied, dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ve seen you succeed in impromptu arguments on topics you’ve studied for years.”  She replied with narrowed eyes.

“I’ve spent fifty years studying assholes and abusive government structures.”

That was enough to get a smirk from Gabby and snorts from Andrea and Destiny.  Sarah … was not amused.

“I am going with you.”

I walked up close, resting my hands gently against her sides.  “I may be going into the lion’s den here.  You are carrying our child, Sarah.  One of three new children in this novel life we are building.  I cannot focus on what I need to do if you are in danger, at my side. I need you to stay here, safe, surround by people that will defend you and take care of you.”

Sarah collapsed against me, crying, but not sobbing.  I held her, saying nothing more.  I knew what I’d said had gotten through, and anything added at this point would get her back up.  After several minutes, she stepped back and locked eyes with me.

“You should take Gabby and Leslie.  Gabby for the contract skills and Leslie because it was her ferreting that found the records.  She may need to explain it, or verify it.”

I was opening my mouth to object when Nicole spoke.  “She has a point, sir.  In this world they are building, you present a better image if you have an entourage.  The hotter the better.  For that reason it might be a good idea to take Andrea and Connie as well.”

Connie blushed and tried to shrink back into the wall she was standing against.

“No.  I’d rather not take anyone. But,” I added, to stave off a wave of objections, “if Gabby and Leslie are willing, I will take them with me.”

Gabby nodded, as did Leslie.  Both had thoughtful looks on their faces.

“Well then, you two had better pack, and fast.  It’s a ten hour drive to get to the office I have to report to and my appointment is set for nine-thirty tomorrow morning.  Wheels up in thirty minutes, we’ll grab lunch on the road, and maybe dinner too.  It’ll be late by the time we get there.”

“Have you reserved a room yet?” Sarah asked.

“No, not yet.”

“We’ll find you one close and send you the details.”

“Please get something that has an included breakfast, or an IHOP or Waffle House close by.”

My coppery haired companion smirked.  “Sure.  I’ll make sure you have a warm, satisfying breakfast before you face whatever it is you’ll have to deal with.”

******

Lunch was drive thru from a place just off the highway, about an hour and a half down the road from the house.  The trip was mostly spent in silence.  Leslie spent a lot of time texting, likely with other members of the family back at the house.  Gabby texted a bit as well, though most of the time she was on her phone, Leslie was as well.  Based on the timing, I think they were texting each other.

We had a few light conversations.  Nothing significant, just light housekeeping family talk or sharing of old memories.  Mostly Gabby spent time staring out the window, or scrolling through her e-reader.  She’d downloaded the Lottery rules, SOBA, and every other missive issued by the Bunker Authority.  Boning up, getting ready for the confrontation ahead.  She spent about an hour reading sections of documents off and then drilling me on them.

I manage to knock a full hour off our drive time, even with a full stop for a sit down meal at dinner.  Hell, I owed them that at a bare minimum.  They were taking a risk coming with me.  It was still late by the time we checked in and trooped up to our room.  Even at that late hour, my mind was still abuzz with possibilities and concerns.  Leslie immediately gave me something else to think about.  After a vigorous hour that included her sitting on my lap on the chair (with the two of us nude and joined), missionary, cowgirl, and finally spooning, I feel asleep exhausted.

Gabby slept on the other bed, crashing before Leslie and I.  She woke me gently, early enough to get downstairs for breakfast.  We invited Leslie, but she elected to get another half hour of sleep.  We took our time (and I got seconds), so it was forty-five minutes before we returned to the room.  We rousted Leslie and I hopped in the shower.  A few minutes later, Gabriela joined me.  Her rich brown eyes and the naughty grin below were promising.  After several minutes of groping each other’s wet body, she wrapped a leg around me and I slipped into her warm, inviting passage.  She groaned as I thrust and reached her climax shortly before my own.

Which brings us to nine-thirty, sitting just outside the office of MG Foxlin.  The mid-twenties secretary was, unsurprisingly, one of Foxlin’s partners.  She seemed completely competent.  Then again, I think the long, wavy, naturally golden blonde hair that fell halfway to her ass and the breasts that could float a tank may have something to do with her getting chosen.  Just a little.  Leslie and Gabby both noticed me noticing, and studiously looking away.  Leslie looked slightly cross, but at the same time entertained by my attempts to hide my notice.  Gabby just leaned in and whispered “It’s okay to like the look of other women, Kevin.”

“With twelve women in my family?  All of whom are attractive?  I actually was not prepared to respond like that to someone else.”  I rolled my eyes. “Feels kinda greedy ya know?”

Gabby chuckled.  “If you didn’t respond to her, I’d be worried.”

“Thank you dear.  I needed that.”

Her only reply was a knowing smile.

Then the secretary’s phone intercom buzzed, calling for me.  Alone.  At least I still had the papers detailing Leslie’s efforts with me.

Halverson was standing to one side in the general’s office, a smug, feral grin on his face.

“Sit down, Mr. Ansen,” the general said as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk.  “Frank here has a list of grievances to be aired.  Once he’s gone through all of them, you may reply.”

“Sir, I bring to your attention the following infractions by one Kevin Ansen.”  Frank began in a voice more officious and oily than the night he ‘observed’ me with Kiki and Melanie.  I started taking notes in short order.

Charge one – ‘insufficient ardor’ for the caste system – my refusal to choose a third partner from among the melee widows.

Charge two – unnecessarily delaying the ‘transfer’ process.  This stemmed from waiting to take Nicole and Melanie to my bed, to facilitate the adoption of Shaunice and Levon.

Charge three – ‘disrespecting’ a BA official in the performance of his duties.  Specifically, my refusal to let Frank directly view my first time with Kiki and Melanie.

Charge four – a second charge of ‘insufficient ardor’ when I refused to choose eight women for myself from among the race widows.

Charge five – disparagement of BA officials.  This was from my ‘sniveling assholes’ comment in front of the race survivors, their families, and race widows.

Charge six – moral failure in the exercise of pro tempore power, because I allowed the racers and widows to choose each other rather than making assignments on my own.

Charge seven – misuse of BA provided weaponry in the execution of two local citizens.  Oh, I was so glad he included that one.

Charge eight – persistent failure to exercise authority over tier six women, namely, that I didn’t use my women sexually in every imaginable way.

“In light of these gross deficiencies, I ask that the violator be stripped of his privileges as a Bunker resident, and the women that have the misfortune of being tied to him be reassigned to men meeting the character expected of one privileged to be a part of our society.”  Frank took his seat with a smug smile.  The gleam in his eyes suggested not only was he sure of his victory, he expected to have his pick of the women in my family.

“Mr. Ansen, you now have time for rebuttal.”

“My legal expert is outside, and has been denied a hearing of the charges.  May I at least have the benefit of her council as I reply?”

Frank sneered.  I don’t think he had a high opinion of a guy taking advice from women.

“You may not, Mr. Ansen.  You will have to navigate this trial solo, just as you have in both rounds of the Cullings.”

Not a friendly response.  Exactly.  The phrasing and tone suggested perhaps the general was more friendly to my position than at least Frank.  I still had to give him something solid to rule my way.  Doubly so if I was misreading him.  Well, good thing Gabby thought ahead and prepped me.    I don’t know if she foresaw this as a possibility, or if she just didn’t want me to look like I was leaning on her for every point of the discussion.  Either way, her thoroughness was coming in handy.

“Am I to address you as ‘Your Honor’?  I’m not familiar with these settings, and there is no official, established procedure within the Bunker Authority system for this.”

“Your Honor is acceptable.  Sir or General would do fine, Sergeant.”

“Yessir.”  I paused to gather my thoughts.  And tamp down the ‘snake in the can’ series of questions to the general addressing me as sergeant.  I hadn’t worn the uniform since before Belinda was born.  Then again, I noticed by body language changed.  I knew how to behave around a general officer as an NCO.  I felt, not comfortable, but familiar.

“If you will indulge me, sir, I will address the charges in order, though I may need to revisit one or more charges, as I have not had the opportunity to plan out a response.”  Now, I could have done the whole dramatic court drama bit of saving my biggest argument for the end.  Trouble was, there are reasons that’s done in movies and TV, but not an actual hearing.  Judges hate that shit is one.  Also, order matters when presenting a formal argument.  And my ‘biggie’ gave weight to all of my other points.  All this flew threw my head at the speed of thought before I opened my mouth again.

“Your Honor, before I address the individual charges I would first note that the only valid foundation for any charge here would be the Bunker Authority Charter, the instructions issued by the Bunker Authority Governing Council, and the Constitution and laws of the United States of America, unless such have been explicitly countermanded by the documents mentioned earlier.”

Frank sputtered but the general waved him to silence.

“And what of the Standards of Behavior Act?  You wish to ignore it?  One what grounds?”

That brought the smug back to Frank’s face.

“On the grounds that it is not legally operative, sir.  It has not yet been passed, and therefore not legally binding.”

Franks eyes went wide with that assertion, though I thought I saw a humorous gleam in the general’s eye.  Maybe.

“Both the initial stipulations of the Act and the suggested revisions a week later have been made public, but neither has been approved.  As such, no ruling can be based upon them.  Furthermore, since the more recent version allows laxer treatment of tier six women and provides milder penalties for those violating the remaining expectations, it is reasonable to suggest that even a ruling based upon the projected passage would gravitate towards less stringent behavior than what these charges are predicated upon.”

Frank’s face was beet red as if he were ready to explode.

“Finally, with regards to the Act, the council is still debating its provisions and strictures.  An individual resident cannot be held to expectations that the Council has not yet determined necessary.  At the moment, there is no delineation between behaviors that are in need of legal sanction, faux pas best dealt with by social action, and behaviors that a free society must permit, even if some members deem them inappropriate.”

“Noted,” was all the general said in reply.

“Regarding charge one, I found only two suitable choices among the entourages of the fallen men.  Given the racist tattoos on two of my melee opponents, I had no desire to accept any woman from their ranks.  I already had two Latinas in my family.  I was not going to risk bringing in some racist harpy that couldn’t get along.”

“Further, after the attempted assault with a knife by one member of the third man’s entourage, I very nearly rejected any woman from that group as well.  One of the reasons I acquiesced in the matter was the discussion the next morning with his daughter.  She vouched that her father was not of the same mindset as the attacker, and the woman was only still with him because of his good nature.  That jibed well with my initial assessment of him when I entered the ring.”

“For that reason, I chose not to prejudge any of the remaining five women from his entourage. I had five of my ladies sit with them, in rotating interviews, to gain an initial assessment.  After that, I spoke with the two promising candidates and selected them.  They showed a personal compatibility and had skills that might be useful in the future.  The other three had neither skills nor looks that recommended them for selection, and were uncertain as to their ability to fit into my existing coterie.  Therefore, I selected the maximum number of women that would not cause a disruption in my personal life or interfere in the daily operations of my family.”

The general nodded thoughtfully.  He was also taking notes.

“Charge two ignores the scientific need to maintain genetic diversity for the long term health of the human species.  Shaunice and Levon are children of a man and woman who are both dead, and therefore preserve that genetic uniqueness.  The delay that enabled their inclusion into my family, and thus the Bunker, aided the stated goal of the Bunker Authority to preserve the human race, and this nation over the long term.   I am a scientist sir, I think along such lines.”  Okay, so I did it out of a sense of honor and duty, but that part wasn’t going to get my neck out of the noose.  I did consider the genetic diversity question because I am a scientist.  Shit like that pops into my head as quickly as the impulse to breath.  All the time.  It’s why we science nerds are weird.

As the general nodded once again for me to continue, with no indication against my line of reasoning, Frank fidgeted angrily in his seat.

“Charge three itself is in violation of the Bunker Authority charter which stipulates that any tier six woman is my exclusive property in all regards.  It is therefore my right to restrict who may view them in any manner.”

I think I saw a smirk on the general’s face with that one.  Frank stared pointedly into space.

“Charge four again butts up against scientific reality in that spreading a group of women out across multiple men provides greater genetic diversity than binding them all to one man.  Charge five is in violation of Constitutional free speech, and all court rulings in that regard.”

By this point, Frank was beyond outward expressions of anger, other than his hooded eyes.

“Charge six expresses a fundamental misunderstanding of leadership.  I was given a group of people to lead through a process.  By delegating some decision making and listening to the ideas of my subordinates I achieved a swift result that has caused no backlash amongst those affected.  As the reporting authority, I retained control over the final decisions.”

The general’s grin was starting to tug at the corners of his mouth as I argued the points of positive leadership.  It was in obvious contrast to the ‘command them and they do’ approach that some folks erroneously equate with leadership.

“With regard to charge seven, the weapons used were a mix of mine prior to the lottery and those issued by the Authority.  The individuals shot were leading an assault on my family and property.  The charge also omitted that the individuals in question were working in coordination with the complainant.”

That brought both heads up sharply.

“SLANDER! He’s desperate to avoid justice and chooses to slander me, general!”

“Mr. Ansen, before you continue, I’ll need something to support your claim.”

I handed over the folder I’d brought in.  The one with copies.  The originals were still back home.

“The first several stapled groupings are phone logs of cellphones of women in my family.  All of whom are tier six.  The highlighted lines show multiple calls to each woman from a single phone number.  That number has been determined to belong to one Frank Halverson, the complainant.  The last bundle is phone logs of one Jefferson Garfield, the seller of my current home, and the man leading the assault on my home.  As you can see, the same number linked to Frank Halverson called or texted Garfield multiple times over the past few months, ever since the lottery results were announced.  In fact, the first contact appears to be by Garfield, the same day my family and I viewed the home Garfield would later sell to us.  There is also a text sent to Garfield the following day, that matches the time Garfield received word during our negotiation on the sale of the house.  This text alerted Garfield to the authorization for imminent domain. Finally, there are several texts and calls the day Garfield died, all sent after Garfield was dead.  I departed a day earlier than previously planned.  Garfield was at my home, demanding those inside surrender, when I arrived.  There was also a call the day prior, timed shortly after I communicated my initial intention to remain two more days in the hotel room.  My plans changed.”

Frank’s face fell.

“I submit that the complainant was colluding with Garfield and took an active role in his plot to steal my home, which the Bunker Authority has charged me leaving manned and ready as a future friendly outpost when the Bunker residents emerge in two decades.  The complainant’s interference in my work to fulfill that directive would be a worthy avenue of investigation and possible prosecution.”

Frank rose to object again but froze when the general waved him down with an angry glare.

“On charge eight, I once again point out that SOBA has not passed, and thus the manner of any man’s exercise of his authority over the tier six women in his household is a question for his desires, his worldview, and his conscience.  I have made no secret that I am a follower of Christ and I hold to the guidelines in the New Testament for those who own other persons as slaves.  By denying me the right to adhere to these scriptures, complainant is treading on my Constitutional right to freedom of religion.”

“In addition, I would revisit the phone log evidence as proof the complainant’s actions have interfered with my authority over my slaves.  His words and deeds could potentially undermine my authority, and thus violate both the statements in the BA charter regarding a master’s power and the proposed rules in the previously named SOBA.”

The general looked thoughtful and expectant.  When neither of us spoke, he said, “Both of you out.  Take seats in my outer office.  And I’d better not hear one peep out of either of you while I deliberate.”

The wait was a quiet one.  Frank vacillated between seething and cowed.  The secretary kept a watchful eye on both of us.  I just kept my head back on the wall and my eyes on the ceiling, with my arms around Gabriela and Leslie.  They obligingly snuggled in close.  Leslie leaned lightly into the arm candy role, gently running her free hand over my chest and leg.  It was reassuring, and a little funny, since I knew why she was doing it.  It was also arousing.  I mentally ran through several mundane issues I had yet to address.  I did not need to walk back into the general’s office with a hard-on.

It took quite some time before Frank and I were called back in.

“Looking over the statements of both parties,” the general said, “I have determined the following:  First, Kevin Ansen’s behavior, while not in line with the zeitgeist currently in charge of our developing society, does not rise to the level of violating existing laws or regulations.  Proposed laws are not open for prosecution, and indeed, it is arguable that Mr. Ansen’s actions are still within those expectations, once one considers the rights of conscience that remain foundational to our laws.”

Frank looked frustrated, but not surprised.  I had been reasonably persuasive.  Not enough for him to agree, by a long shot.  But well enough he was ready to expect this.

“Further, the evidence presented by Mr. Ansen regarding the actions of Frank Halverson bear a deeper examination by his superiors.”

Frank looked conflicted.  Perhaps he had enough higher-level patronage to weather that inquiry, or get it dismissed, but no one could hear that recommendation without some trepidation.

“Mr. Ansen, I would recommend that you find a way, within your conscience to interact with your harem in a manner that will not raise eyebrows among those with legal and political authority.”

I took a slow breath and nodded.

“Now, before the two of you evacuate my office, hopefully never to return, I’ll address a few ‘housekeeping’ issues as it were.  Mr. Ansen, we still have not received your layout request.  Most race winners were given the opportunity to choose an existing layout rather than a randomly assigned layout chosen by the BA.  Given your status having won both your race and melee decisively, you and a few others were allowed to choose a layout and request a small number of modifications.  We need that request in time to complete the construction.”

I was puzzled through most of the general’s statement, and it showed.  “I was never informed of this sir.”

The general glanced at Frank, who looked defiant.  “I’ll have the design team contact you directly.  Time is getting short on that one.  You have a bit longer on your request list for those joining you in the Bunker.”  My blank stare told the general all he needed to know on that one.  “Halverson, send that email immediately.  I’ll contact your supervisor to verify you don’t delay for one second when Ansen’s response comes in.  This chickenshit third grade behavior is unseemly for someone we are supposed to count on for daily administration of the Bunker.”

“Okay, last thing, and I was building  to this, since it’s the one I actually care about.  Sergeant Ansen, I need your Table of Organization proposal for your unit and your equipment request for individual and squad gear in short order.  We need time to get that material gathered and shipped to your chosen training location.  I also need your training plan.  Some of your troops are veterans, but not all, and you need to weld them into a team.”

“…”

The look on Major General Foxlin’s face went from bored to livid in less than the span of a heartbeat as he realized I had no fucking clue what the hell he was talking about.

“You stupid little shit! I oughta boot your sorry ass from the Bunker and award all your women directly to him!  Fucking around with his family’s request list is one thing, but interfering with his duties as a militia section leader jeopardizes us all!”

Frank cowered from the tirade, while still looking indignant.  “He’s just militia!  He won’t have any real fighting duties, he’s just gonna be there to look tough in his uniform!  He’s just another half-ass E-5 washout that left the Army nearly three decades ago.  I could do the damn job with my eyes closed!”

“An E-5 forward observer knows a shit ton more about combat operations than a Spec-four, third shop logistics clerk kicked out six months early with a General Discharge that got litigated up from a BCD!”

I could see a vein on the general’s neck pulsing as he squared up on Frank.  His hands were clenched, not even flexing.  Solidly clenched, and his arms looked taut like a bowstring.

Through clenched teeth, the general said, “Halverson, you are stripped of any authority over the Ansen family.  You are to have no contact with Kevin Ansen, anyone in his household, or anyone interacting with his household.  I will inform your superior to monitor your emails and calls.  I will inform him of the need to forward the requisitions directly from himself to Ansen.  If I find you have in anyway caused anyone to do or say anything that has even the slightest impact on the Ansen family the penalties will be swift and severe.”

Frank had the good sense to know when he’d been dismissed and left in a hurry.

The general settled into his chair and composed himself.  He waved me to the seat opposite him.

“He’s still going to have authority over your residential block in the Bunker, until such time as representatives are elected.”

I just blinked.  Pretty sure that was enough of a tell.

“Last week, I got the email about media requisitions.  Why would he send that, but hold all of this back?”

The general snorted.  “Little fucker was sick last week.  Media Resources sent all of his people the email directly.”

“Ah.  I don’t think I bothered to check the header.”

“Okay, down to business, Ansen.  I’ll send you the enabling messages directly when we are done here.  Your lottery application included acceptance of militia responsibilities, as needed.  By checking off veteran’s status and providing proof, you agreed to be called up.  You, Kevin Ansen, are reactivated, transferred from Regular Army to the Mid-America Bunker Militia, and hereby promoted to Sergeant First Class.”

My head swam.  That was a heady jump.  And a lot of responsibility, even if my unit was just going to stand around looking intimidating.  My head started sorting through all the duties of a platoon sergeant.  I knew some of them, but not all, since I hadn’t gotten to that level on active duty.  I knew the professional duties of an E-7 in Fire Support, but only some of the basic duties.  Well, beyond the golden rule – take care of your men, accomplish the mission.

“You’ll be given a section of infantry to lead.  That’s roughly equivalent to two fully manned infantry squads – eighteen men.  We’ve played with the unit designators and sizes somewhat with the militia.  Each unit is big enough to handle a larger task than a regular squad, but not quite platoon size.  I’ll send you the personnel files on the people assigned to you.  I can give you a little extra time on the TO&E data, but not much.  There’s a clock ticking here.”

“How long sir?”

“Four days.  I might be able to buy you til the end of next week, but that will be at the expense of other things I should be doing”

“I’ll have it to you by four days, then.  Earlier if I can manage it.”

“Try.”

“Yessir.”

“Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but I ain’t sending a man out blind.  The militia is posted to the low threat areas.  We think.  Of those areas, the one that has the most potential to get hot is the one we’ve put you on.  Some did it to see you fail, like Frank’s backer.  Some of us recognize that of the militia section leaders, you’re one of those with the best chance of getting the job done, whether it’s hot or cold.  Hell, an idiot with a hair trigger could turn any one of those postings hot by shooting some inquisitive civilian when a simple conversation would do.”

“You’re under a microscope, Sergeant Ansen.  People are watching.  Some want you to fail, some are hoping you succeed.  So watch your ass.  Any questions?”

“Not at the moment sir.  I’ll likely have some after I get the briefing documents.”

“Email me directly.”

“Yes sir.”  I stood, saluted, and got the hell out of there as soon as the general returned the salute.

Leslie and Gabby were on their feet as I left the inner office.  The look on my face produced a happy squeal from Leslie as she leapt at me for a sweet kiss.  Gabby grinned and hugged the two of us.  I kissed her with Leslie still in my arms.  I led them out of the office, into the hallway.  Noticing we were alone in the passage, I quickly turned to Leslie, grabbed her by the armpits, lifted her, and slammed her to the wall – with moderate force.

“You’re a naughty little minx, getting me all worked up like that.”

The shock in her eyes was already fading to something else before I spoke.  Then she moaned.  I knew that look on her face.  I’d seen it many times.  We hadn’t engaged in rough play really, but I had seen a few signs.

“Mmm, feeling something, Les?  A bit of a yearning perhaps?”

She nodded in short, slow motions.  Her breathing was shallow and quick.

“Good, now we both will have the same trouble on the ten hour drive back.”  I said with a wicked grin as I lowered her gently to the floor.

Her face screwed up, her mouth tight, as she hauled off and punched my shoulder.

“You are one delicious bastard,” Gabby chuckled.

“I have my moments,” I replied.  “Let’s get out of here.  Lunch first, I don’t want her to have two unmet appetites the whole way back.”

Leslie’s face was a scowl crossed with a grin.

At the restaurant, I carried my tablet in so I could download the email attachments MG Foxlin sent.  I also handed the keys over to Gabriela, telling her I’d take the backseat so I could read.  That required an explanation.  Both waited until we were on the road before texting the others.  There was excitement over the layout possibilities.  Since we would arrive home late, we planned a family meeting late tomorrow morning to go over everything.

I didn’t share enough details about the call-up to worry them.  Just my promotion, and the part where intel said it was low-risk.  I didn’t need anxious texts and calls times ten women while I was reading the mission details and personnel files of the men I had to lead on a hopefully quiet guard duty.

******

The next morning, Jessica led a few others in whipping up a large welcome home breakfast.  Since Gabby did most of the driving back, it took the full ten hours.  We each got a cascade of hugs before everyone crashed.  A long leisurely breakfast this morning led into an hour or so while the ladies cleaned up the kitchen and made sure the room was ready for all of us.  This royal treatment business is a little too comfortable.  I need to make sure I don’t get too used to it.

I laid out a one page diagram of each of the possible layouts.  Five different designs, the Authority wanted to give the residents some variation.  I would have thought it strange that every design was large enough for my entire family of twelve women and six kids.  With a bit of room to spare.  Except for that one little aside from the general about requesting ‘additions’.  And the email attachment delineating clear rules about making requests.  I showed the ladies the information but tabled the discussion for now.  There was more time for that later.  After a brainstorming session about what layouts would work best and what mods we might ask for, we left the topic for all of us to mull over for a day.  Tomorrow afternoon we’d finalize our request and I’d send it in.

I also gave the ladies a bit more detail about my new militia posting and responsibilities.  I reiterated that the guard post I was assigned was expected to be quiet.  I also let them know I would not be available for much else for next few days as I put together my plans.  They grinned.  They’d only been trying to get me to leave household duties to them since … well, since this all started.  The first thing I took care of was an email to every member of my section, giving them my contact information and a rough sketch of my plans.

At my request, Leslie had tracked down and downloaded several current Army field manuals on infantry tactics and formations.  I felt the need to brush up, since it had been more than two decades since I’d been in.  I reviewed those before once again going over the personnel files MG Foxlin gave me yesterday.  I’d finalize duty assignments after we went through some training, but during training required some organization as well.

I did take a break in the early afternoon to shower with Destiny.  She’d gotten grubby doing landscaping work, and asked for some play time.  A hot redhead, my age, water dripping off her lush, freckled breasts?  Yes, please!

I slowly soaped her body, enjoying the feel of her under my hands.  It had been long enough since the tattoos went on that I could include them in the play.  I washed her hair first, slowly, carefully.  I massaged her scalp as I did so.  As I started on her face and neck, I continued the massage.  She luxuriated in the attention, humming appreciatively when I reached her breasts.  Her breathing was slow and deep as I continued past.  This was sensual, not sexual.  It was a fine line, but one I’d walk for my lady.  One of my ladies.  With all the pampering and adoration she’d given me, it was time for some reciprocation.

By the time I got to her pelvis, I sank to my knees in the shower.  I kissed the two tattoos of twin cherries on either side of her pelvis, just inboard of the crease separating the leg and pubic area.    She giggled coquettishly.  It was really delightful hearing that schoolgirl coquettishness from a woman close to my own age.  It was like she felt safe enough to be free, vulnerable.

I turned her, washing and massaging her lower back and buttocks.  The third tattoo of paired cherries sat on the base of her spine, just above the crack of her ass.  Destiny was the only one that immediately caught the ‘lucky jackpot’ implication of three identical cherry tattoos.  It took her a bit longer to understand the fourth tattoo.  The pair of lips on her right ass cheek.  After the massage and cleaning attention on her butt, I gave the lip tattoo a little nibble.  She tittered again.  After finishing with her legs, I stood again and we kissed slowly for awhile before drying off and going about our tasks.  With big grins on both our faces.

By evening, I needed a break from reading documents and outlining ideas.  I noticed furtive glances from Sarah all day, each time she passed me.  Seemed like a date night would be good for both of us.  She brightened the moment I suggested it.  While she was getting ready, I let Gabby and Jess know we’d be out.  Then I slipped into my office upstairs to dress.  Sarah emerged several minutes later.

I almost dragged her back to the bedroom right then and there.  She wore a slinky green dress that clung in loose folds to her medium frame.  Her baby bump wasn’t large enough to show yet.  Maybe slightly, if the dress were tighter.

She wore her hair pulled back from her face, into a thick, wavy ponytail that looked regal with an undercurrent of playful.  She’d skipped foundation, as she often had since we’d gotten together.  Previously, she didn’t believe me when I’d said I liked freckles.  Someone in her past (or someones) made her incredibly self-conscious about them.  The appreciation I’d shown for them gave her a new perspective on the light brown that lightly speckled her pale face and shoulders.  She’d gone with a mild version of smoky eye and maroon lipstick and a very light orange blush to round out the rest of her special effects.

We went to a regional chain restaurant we’ve both enjoyed before.  They mainly served basic Midwest home food, with a few dishes from other cuisines for variety.  We asked to be seated in Beverly’s section.  She’s a friend of Bel, her father and I shared a few interests.  When she came for or drink and appetizer order, Sarah asked for water and nachos.

“Wow, no white wine or brie?” the young lady asked.

Sarah just shook her head no.  Business was light, so our drinks were barely out when Beverly brought us the nachos.  By then we’d decided.  Sarah ordered the salmon, well done.

“That’s completely unlike –” she dropped down to a hushed tone as her eyes went wide.  Bev rushed in for a hug.  “Oh my god you’re preggers!  That’s so awesome!  I am so happy for you guys! You’re like the perfect couple, and now you get to have a baby together!”

Bev continued to gush, discretely, in her mannerisms, not her speech, each time she came over.  Honestly, it was kinda cute.  And normal.  Normality is a wonderful thing sometimes.  Beverly is a teenage girl familiar with both of us.  Her happiness for us was touching.  Made me glad for what I had planned for her tip.

Sarah and I chatted lightly about mundane topics.  Some general things, some household.  Sarah had taken over family management while Gabriela’s role had expanded to oversee all the basic domestic duties.  Jess was her right hand for running the kitchen.  She rotated the others through the various other house cleaning needs so no one got bored or fed up.

Finally, Sarah got around to what was bothering her.

“Kevin, I don’t like the idea of you in the militia.”

“It was part of the fine print for the lottery app.  Getting veteran’s preference also came with accepting a call up.  I’m surprised they waited this long.  Well, they waited about a week less.  Frank held up the notice to fuck with me.”

“Just be safe, please.  You’re in charge, you don’t have to be in front of everyone.”

“I love you, Sarah.  I love you with everything I am, and everything I’ll ever be.  I cannot put my men in danger and not take the risk myself.  I don’t … know how to explain that if you don’t understand it on your own.  It’s about honor and duty.  If I expect those men to follow my commands when death is in the air, they have a right to expect I face the same danger.”

She struggled to keep the tears out of her eyes.  “Kevin, please.”  Her voice was soft and weak.  I’ve never heard her sound like that.

“I will be careful, Sarah.  I promise you.  I have a lot of incentive to come home safe.”  I kissed her hands.  “If you were the only one waiting for me, I’d still have plenty of reason to come home.  I love you, Sarah.  I’ll do my duty, accomplish my mission, and then I’ll come home.”

She took a deep, steadying breath.  “Please do.  I finally got you Kevin.  I’ve almost lost you three times already.”  At my quizzical look she continued.  “The melee, the race, and Garfield.  And then that attempted kangaroo court.”  She took a few cleansing breaths.  “I need you, Kevin.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe.  I’ll always come back.  I promise.”

“You better.”

We switched to other, lighter topics and I ordered a chocolatey dessert to split.  By the time we were done, Sarah’s spirits had lifted.

As we got the check, I asked Beverly to follow us out.  I gave her a good, solid, cash tip on the table, but I also knew that money would have dubious value soon.  And her family and mine were somewhat close.  Enough to give a shit about them specifically.

Beverly hugged me when I hauled a case of MRE’s two well-stocked medical bags, a box of 9mm ammo and a box of .223 ammo.  I also gave her two empty magazines for each ammo type.  Her dad and I talked guns often, so I knew what he had.  These clips fit his weapons.

I got Sarah home and kept her close the rest of the night.  We slept spooned up, with her holding my arm close like a teddy bear.