Ta...It will be worth it...

The follow up is around 151 parts long and 1186 pages..So each part will appear once 15 views are recorded for the previous one.

Basically, it's a sci-fi/fantasy..Very dark in places with a fearless moggy at the helm..Watch out when the Grim Reaper appears!
Not forgetting the killer Teddy bears!

Quite a few parts set in UK..Triad is heavily involved there..

So, if you like the idea of a cat with 9 lives battering the hell out of aliens,tune in...

Trust me..It won't be a gentle walk in the park..Plenty of hankie scenes...A few heart srings will snap!

Be brave and follow what is coming up on Sunday..Earth time of course..

Rodriguez entered the eating hall with a wide grin upon his face.

“You seem to have cheered up,” Maria commented.

“Your committee has decided to pay up after all. Our payment is en route.”

“They gave in?”

The bandit nodded.

“It seems that you are much more valuable than you thought mam.”

“What about my pilots?”

“They are safe. Once the money arrives and has been properly counted, we will allow you and them to leave.”

“When I return to Havana I’ll order your arrest.”

The bandit laughed loudly.

“By the time your people arrive we shall be long gone mam.”

He sat beside her then and turned the subject back to politics.

“You are much different from Fidel.”

“His blood runs through my veins,” she insisted.

“I don’t doubt it. Take a bit of advice from me and change your people.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Instead of wasting time on me, rebuild this island as a proper republic.”

“We have no monarchy here.”

The bandit disagreed.

“You are the monarchy mam. That is why your committee gave in without a fight.”

“I really cannot accept that judgement.”

“It is staring you in the face mam. Back in Fidel’s day you would have been left to rot.”

Maria shook her head violently.

“Many of his fighters were women my friend. You are pretty ignorant of our history.”

He gave her a dark look.

“I am not ignorant of your American education mam. It has heavily influenced you.”

“My people don’t think so.”

“Most of your people are fools mam.”

Maria became quite incensed by the insult. She suddenly stood and slapped him hard across the cheeks.”

He wiped the pain away as one of his thugs ran inside.

“It is here Rodriguez. The damn money is here.”

The bandit smiled broadly and followed him out of the room.

Maria sat back down and waited to see what would happen next.

When Rodriguez stepped outside, he noted the darkening clouds and the heavy rain.

“Where is it?”

His thug led the way to the road and pointed to the small vehicle and the rather nervous driver.

Rodriguez walked over to the nervous chap and smiled sweetly.

“Give me the ransom now.”

The driver led him to the boot and opened it quickly. The bandit stared at the four heavy leather bags and smiled. Turning to one of his men he snapped, “Take it inside, and we will check it.”

“Can I go now?” the driver asked.

“Get your sorry arse out of here and thank the committee for me.”

He waited until the vehicle vanished into the gloom before returning to the warmth of the monastery.

The bags had been taken to the reception area, and the bandits were greedily running their fingers through it.

“Get your mutts off that,” the leader warned. “We need to count it you fool's.”

He watched as the bundles were carefully laid out, before the counting process began.

Rodriguez began to rub his palms at the prospect of untold riches.
...
“That pie was fabulous,” Cheryl said.

“It should be,” Pauline replied. “I got the recipe from my mother.”

“What will you do now?” the former cop asked.

“Continue as a nurse here for a while. After all within a week, we should all have at least some protection.”

“Even after this latest outbreak? Perhaps this solution simply failed.”

“Well if it has, we are all up the creek without a paddle my dear. How about you?”

Cheryl thought for a moment.

“I brought my friends here to escape the horrors of America. Look how it ended.”

“That was not your fault.”

“It’s more than just a run of bad luck Pauline. First the storm, then the hurricane. To top that off, my friend gets killed fighting a few rebels and a trooper contracts the disease.”

“I know how you feel Cheryl but if we are truly at the tail end of this thing, other opportunities will come along.”

Cheryl shook her head.

“What of the remains? Every city, town, and village must be full of them. You don’t think we will simply sweep them under the carpet do you?”

“Of course not my dear. Okay, clearing that out may take a year or two but the rebuilding will restart.”

“What makes you so sure?” Cheryl asked.

“It’s called human nature. After each and every catastrophe, we have rebuilt. This firepox thing nearly did for us, but not quite eh?”

Cheryl folded her arms across her waist and thought this over.

“I think we will be lucky if things are half decent ten years from now.”

She suddenly started coughing again, and the nurse became just a little more concerned.

“Are you sure that is just a frog in your throat?”

“It started when they fired the block. Must have inhaled some smoke or soot perhaps?”

“You just sit there a moment.”

The nurse rose and wandered into the lounge. A moment later, she returned with a thermometer.

“Pop this into your mouth for me.”

She counted down and then glanced at the gauge.

“Just a snitch above normal my dear. You should be okay.”

Overhead, the rainstorm lashed the dark streets as the water put the fire out for good.

“I may return to the states,” Cheryl muttered. “My cop experience should give me an edge.”

“Like my nursing life, you have a valuable asset.”

The women were enjoying each other’s company as the nurse glanced at the time.

“It’s nearly midnight. We should get to bed.”

“I hope that you have a spare room here.”

Pauline smiled.

“Of course I have.”
...
Maria woke at three that morning to the sound of violent coughing. She crept across the floor and put her ear against it. After listening for a moment, she started banging loudly.

“Hey! Let me out.”

She stepped back as footsteps came her way. Rodriguez entered coughing quite heavily.

“What’s up with you?”

“Many of my men are like this mam. I don’t think it is serious though.”

“Finished counting the ransom yet?”

The head bandit shook his head.

“None of us are well enough.”

He seemed to have a problem standing and began coughing once more.

“Whatever you have, try and keep it away from me.”

He suddenly suffered a violent spasm and the skin across his face began turning a crisp dark colour. The head of Cuba watched in fascination as the gun dropped to the floor, before the body collapsed.

Maria dashed to the door and glanced outside. Here and there, lay undamaged clothes and bits of intact flesh. She crossed herself before making a run for freedom.

She found the pilots tied to the interior of a copter and quickly released them.

“Just get us out of here at once.”

The pilot turned the key and hit the button, activating the blades of the craft. If any of the bandits were still alive, none ran out to stop them.

The copter rose into the dark sky and turning slowly, began its long trek back toward Havana.

“How did you get out?” one of the pilots asked.

“I think the ruddy virus got them. As long as none of us contracted it.”

The pilot increased their speed, putting distance between themselves and the scene of the recent outbreak.
...
Cheryl could not sleep as dawn approached. She felt terribly hot and when she at last stroked her own forehead, she sat up with shock.

“I’m not sweating!”

She threw the sheets off and dashed across the passage and into Pauline’s room.

“I’ve got the damn thing!”

The nurse sat up and simply stared. After a few moments she said, “Get the thermometer from the lounge and take a reading.”

Cheryl dashed into the lounge and found the device easily enough. She popped it inside her mouth as Pauline entered.

“Count fifty and check it for me.”

When Cheryl glanced at the gauge, she reeled.

“It’s a hundred and eight!”

The temperature was far too high.

“I’ll run the damn bath and shove you into cold water.”

As Cheryl frantically stripped, a violent coughing spasm made her bend over.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” the cop said.

As she removed her undies, another spasm tore across her body and this time it did not stop.

“Help me!”

Pauline ran inside and stopped dead.

Cheryl was gazing down at her normally pale thighs. Her terrified eyes saw the skin slowly darken.

“It’s starting!” the cop screamed.

The nurse did not attempt to help but kept a respectful distance.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “There is nothing I can do.”

Cheryl watched the darkness reach her belly button before she felt her breathing cease abruptly. As her vision failed, the lower half of her corpse gave way.

The horrified nurse watched, as the upper portion hit the floor with a loud thud.

Cheryl was never to know it, but she was indeed the final victim of the firepox virus.

The End...

Havana stadium was still packed with the people. For Pauline, the triage system had worked exceedingly well.

Three weeks had now passed since the detonations and the number of cases continued to drop sharply.

As she sponged the body of an elderly man, one of her women dashed over.

“There is a young boy over by the far corner who is showing signs of the firepox virus.”

Pauline shook her head sadly.

“Are you sure?”

The woman nodded.

“I better take a look at him then.”

She followed the nurse over the tiled floor and toward the far left corner, where the six year old lay.

“Where are his parents?”

“The disease took them out,” the woman replied.

Kneeling by his side Pauline placed a thermometer in his mouth and counted off the seconds.

“Let’s have a look eh?”

The young chap smiled weakly as she glanced at the gauge.

“One hundred seven is not a good sign.”

“Is there anywhere we can put him?” the nurse asked.

Pauline shook her head.

“Just try to make him comfortable eh?”

The young man started coughing violently then, thick goo seeming to ooze from the side of his mouth.

“A major outbreak here could well be disastrous,” Pauline muttered.

The boy groaned as another coughing fit took a firm hold.

Pauline sat and checked his forehead.

“He’s dry and crisp. It certainly looks like firepox.”

His body suddenly went into spasm and a white smoke began to pour from his chest area. As the temperature rose rapidly, the skin charred before crumbling into a fine ash.

Pauline shook her head sadly and said slowly, “Get a refuse bag and clear up. I just hope that he was the last.”

She moved away as the sorry remains were quietly disposed off, unaware that the emergency committee was meeting for an entirely different reason.
...
The tall official sat at the large table, listening to the latest report regarding the unexpected disappearance of Maria.

“Those holding her are demanding a million in return.”

“We can’t pay that,” another said. “The money is needed to turn this
country around.”

“What is more important?” another said. “The safety of our leader or the infrastructure?”

There was loud grumblings at this cold-blooded comment.

“Without her firm leadership this island would have crumbled long ago.”

“That is certainly true,” another said. “Though I too balk at the hefty ransom demand.”

Nefonza banged his fist down hard and the squabbling stopped.

“Whatever we think of their motives, the point is that they are holding all the cards.”

“Are you advocating payment?” an official asked.

“Not as such. We should at the very least try to buy some time.”

As he said this, a secretary rushed into the room and whispered something into his crooked ear.

“Gentlemen,” he said solemnly. “I have just been informed of another outbreak at the stadium. It seems that we have other concerns now.”

This unwanted news overshadowed the hostage crisis.

“We should clear it out,” an official muttered.

Nefonza shook his head.

“We have no place to put them. I’ll go over and take a look for myself and report back here.”

As he stood an official asked, “What of Maria?”

Nefonza looked grim.

“For the moment she will have to look after herself.”

He marched out as Pauline watched a fourth victim self-combust before her eyes.

“There is no rhyme of reason to this. It simply appears to be selecting victims at random.”

The woman beside her looked rather worried.

“What if we go down with it?”

“Then my dear, our worries will be over.”

She heard a tumult from the entrance and saw a government official striding into the stadium.

“It must be some clown from the committee,” Pauline muttered.

“Perhaps he has a plan?”

Pauline shook her head.

“I somehow doubt that.”

Nefonza smiled as he reached them.

“How bad is it?” he asked glancing around.

“We have lost ten within the last hour sir,” Pauline replied.

“This is not good. Perhaps moving some on would be a better idea.”

“Where would you suggest sir?”

The official thought this over.

“The old party building is certainly large enough.”

“That old thing sir?” Pauline said with some shock.

“You would agree that containment is our top priority.”

“Of course but we get very little warning sir. We could simply transfer it from one location to the next.”

Another nurse rushed over as they spoke.

“We have another two cases mam.”

“Excuse me sir,” Pauline said following the lady over.

Nefonza decided to see for himself, and followed the nursing staff across the packed floor.

The two cases lay against the far wall coughing violently.

“They have a high temperature mam,” Pauline was told as she arrived.

“You see sir what we are dealing with?”

Nefonza nodded grimly.

The victims suddenly went into spasm and thick smoke rose around them. The horrified official watched, as most of the bodies were rapidly reduced to a thin ash.

“We need help over here.”

Nefonza recognised the female voice and turning sharply, saw Cheryl helping her friend into the sick area.

Pauline dashed over as Fronter was laid down.

“How long has he been ill?” Pauline asked.

“It came on within the last hour,” Cheryl replied.

She saw the tall official and tried to smile at him.

“You are well?” he asked with understandable concern.

“At the moment yes.”

Pauline glanced at the gauge and shook her head sadly.

“It’s far too high. I’m so sorry.”

“You mean he won’t make it?” Cheryl asked.

Pauline nodded as the trooper went into a violent coughing bout.

“I strongly suggest that you get yourself home,” the official suggested.

Cheryl shook her head.

“I’m staying put mate.”

Fronter coughed before suddenly entering the burn out phase.

“Good grief!” Cheryl muttered as her friend disintegrated before her eyes.

Pauline stood sadly and turned to the official.

“You know what this means don’t you?”

“That it has got out,” Nefonza replied coldly.

“It certainly has,” Pauline said as two more cases struggled inside.

The official had not liked what he saw and became determined to stamp it out. He quickly questioned the latest cases and determined they had come from one of the city’s tower blocks.

“What do you mean to do?” Cheryl asked. “I came from there too.”

Nefonza took her to one side.

“I strongly suggest that you find somewhere else to stay my dear.”

She watched him rush off, as a cold feeling gripped her spinal cord.

The tall official made his way back to the emergency committee, and reported the events that were now unfolding within the battered capitol.

“We have no choice,” he argued. “If we do not nip this in the bud, many more of our people will die.”

The other members glanced at each other sadly and nodded.

“What about Maria?” an official asked.

The official had reached a decision on this too.

“Let them have the money but make damn sure that the notes are infected. At least we’ll get her back.”
...
The flats stood quietly as the sunlight beamed down upon them. Within that building, the number of cases was slowly escalating. Terrified residents had now sealed themselves within their homes, unaware of the horror to come.

It was the line of army trucks that was the first hint of trouble. As they drew to a halt, troops dressed in combat gear jumped out, a few of them sporting a short cylinder upon their backs.

As the armed men sealed the block off, the flamethrower team entered and began making their way toward the fifteenth and top floor.

As they clambered up the stone steps, two of the infected reached the basement by the only lift. They had been infected within that hour, and now stood coughing their tortured guts up.

As the lift doors opened and they staggered up, dark muzzles were levelled, and the weapons barked their uncompromising response.

The team had reached the top floor at last and unbridled their metallic tubes. Without an order, they sprayed the door with orange flame before retreating toward the next floor.

As doors ignited, those trapped inside screamed for mercy. Those screams were simply ignored.

One couple suspected what was up and waited by the door as the fire team arrived upon their floor. They threw the door open and tried to rush the surprised troopers.

A burst of flame cut them down as the team moved on.

Cheryl was now standing at a discreet distance watching the windows bellow smoke as the fires caught hold.

“They can’t be really doing this.”

She saw an unfortunate resident plummet from the top floor like some demented Roman candle.

There was a sickening crunch as he hit the cold pavement outside as the fire team stepped outside at last.

“All done.”

The building was rapidly being engulfed in flame now, as the shocked cop looked on. Thick black smoke drifted across the city as another victim combusted at the stadium.

Cheryl simply stood stock still watching the carnage, inflicted by a desperate government. She turned away and started to walk away quickly, but a short cough drew her up.

“Must be the damn smoke.”
...
Pauline had just watched an eighteenth month old babe disintegrate, as she was cradled in her mom’s safe arms. She turned away, as her agile mind counted the recent causality rate.

“That’s forty now. How long have we got I wonder?”

She heard a sudden commotion at the main entrance and saw a group of armed troopers arrive.

“What the hell are they doing here?”

She was about to give them a piece of her mind when they suddenly opened fire.

As bullets streaked in all directions, the sick simply lay at repose as Pauline and her staff dived for cover.

She saw the troops moving deliberately from the door, spraying bullets toward the sick and well in equal measure.

She rolled to one side as a grenade was tossed in her direction.
After the concussion, she lay quite still as the team continued their gruesome orders.

She heard a familiar cry as one of her nurses fell under that metallic hail. A careless boot struck her chest but Pauline absorbed it without any sign of resistance.

The team moved across the floor, firing toward the blood soaked floor as some of the sick attempted to crawl away.

The team made sure that these attempts were entirely futile.
Pauline remained silent as the team left at last. Only after twenty minutes had passed, did she dare to open her eyes.

The once proud stadium was now a charnel house. A woman only a few feet away was staring at her with glazed eyes. Blood trickling from a fatal head wound.

Pauline ignored her and managed to stand upon her feet. She gazed around for signs of life, but of course, there was none.

She shook her head before making her way toward the bloodstained exit, and possible safety.

She peeked out at the sunlight, noting that the street was empty. As she stepped outside, a figure turned the corner into view.

“Cheryl?”

The unhappy cop ran toward her.

“I’m glad that you are okay. What was all that shooting about?”

“They massacred all my staff and patients.”

“They set fire to my block as well,” Cheryl replied.

“No point sticking around here,” the nurse whispered. “Where are you off to?”

“I really don’t know.”

The cop coughed again.

“Don’t worry; it’s just a frog in my throat.”

“Why not come back with me then?” Pauline suggested.

“I’ve nowhere else to go. Is it far?”

Pauline shook her head.

“It’s about four blocks from here. I just hope the damned troops
have not fired it.”

Cheryl nodded and took her warm arm.

“Let’s go then my dear.”

As they headed off toward the safety of a home, dark clouds gathered overhead as the rain arrived at last.

To the south of the Cuban island, within an ancient building, Catholic monks toiled over their new manuscripts.

Father Soleye gazed down upon the workings of his writers with some admiration.

“I think that passage needs a bit of explaining brother.”

“You think so brother?”

“If we are to record these events accurately, explanations are quite necessary.”

“I’ll do my best,” the young monk said.

Father Soleye wandered over to the cold stone window, and gazed out over the frothing ocean.

“Such sights to see within God’s kingdom.”

As he gazed down over the rocks toward Haiti, he noted a strange looking boat that appeared to be heading in their direction.

“What do you think of this father?”

The head of this religious order turned toward the acolyte.

“I have completed the passage that you queried.”

The monk wandered back and peeked at the ornately written words.

‘Man suffered under the judgement of God.’

The father shook his weary head.

“How do you know that Our Lord sanctioned this?”

“It is an obvious plague father.”

“Ah,” the head said knowingly.

“You equate this with the old plagues of Israel?”

“I do father.”

“No loving God could have sent this contagion.”

“Then who father?” the young monk asked.

“Perhaps man himself.”

The young monk nodded as another monk rushed inside.

“Sorry to disturb father but strangers have arrived.”

The father thought back towards that strange boat.

“Are they demanding an audience?”

The monk nodded.

“Then of course I shall grant such a request.”

He gazed up at the image of the cross and walked off, as his minion led the way.

When they reached the bare reception area, father Soleye saw a tall but well armed man staring at them.

“You are the head?”

“I am indeed.”

“My men are in need of refreshment after such a short voyage.”

The holy man turned to his brother and said, “Prepare the soup and bread, and take it to our supper room.”

As the happy monk did as he was asked, the visitor walked around the old chamber.

“Quite run down isn’t it?”

“It has not changed in two centuries,” the monk answered.

“There are many of you here?”

“Just a few of us. We lost thirty during the disease.”

“Oh I see.”

The brother hurried in and said, “The food is ready father.” “If you summon your men sir, I will show them to our supper room.”

The visitor stepped outside for a moment and twenty ruffians quickly entered.

The monks led the way into a larger room that was dominated by a large table. The walls were bare, just like the reception room, and he invited them to sit down. As they ate, the father decided to leave them to it.

“Where are you off to?” the leader asked.

“To pray with my flock.”

“I would rather that you stayed here.”

The monk nodded and instructed his brother to pray without him as the leader spoke.

“Where we came from the toll has been pretty high.”

“As it must be elsewhere,” father Soleye said.

“What of Cuba though?”

“We were hit quite badly sir. Many of the homes are inhabited by the dead now.”

“What of your banks and such like?”

The monk shook his head.

“I do not enter such places. They are of no use to us.”

The ruffians laughed amongst themselves, as the leader called for silence.

“Then you would say that the money is just there for the taking?”

“What use is money in such times as these?” the monk asked.

“You are a strange man indeed,” the leader said.

“What are your real intentions here?”

The leader smiled.

“After our meal, we will of course have a look around before moving on.”

“We have nothing to hide,” the monk assured him.

The leader finished supping and stood once more.

“Could you show us around?”

Father Soleye nodded and led them into the main building.

“What is upstairs?” the leader asked.

“Just our sleeping quarters.”

The ruffian glanced at the bare walls and the leader nodded to his gang. As they dashed upstairs the monk said,”Those are private quarters.”

“There is nothing private here. Now where do you pray?”

The monk pointed to the door and the leader walked over and peeked inside. A call from the upper stair made him turn sharply.

“Only beds here.”

The leader smiled and said, “This room looks more promising.”

He entered the simple room where the monks knelt in prayer. They glanced up as the mob entered with the good father.

“Continue prayer,” father Soleye said carefully. “Do not mind us.”

The leader pointed to the rear wall cabinet and his mob rushed toward it. This time the good father intervened.

“There is nothing of value in there.”

The leader shoved him to the floor as the cabinet was thrown open.

“Well?”

His men shook their heads in disappointment at the prayer books.

“Why have you come here?” the monk asked picking himself up.

“To sup and rest father,” the leader said. “We are entitled to look around.”

“Look around yes but not to plunder.”

The leader did not like this and slapped the monk hard.

“If there is anything of value we shall liberate it.”

“What do you want us to do with him?” a mobster asked.

The leader looked the monks over and said, “Put them upstairs where they will do no harm.”

“I won’t allow it!” the good father protested.

The leader ignored him, as the monks were dragged out of the room and toward the bedchambers.

“This is wrong!” father Soleye said bitterly as he too was dragged off.

“There is no wrong done,” the leader said as his men took full control of the building.

“We should move on,” a ruffian said a few moments later.

“I give the orders here,” the leader spat. “This looks a good place to set up an HQ.”

“As you wish.”

The leader then pointed to the cabinet and said, “Move it away from the wall. I want to look behind it.”

When it was dragged to one side, the leader smiled at the obvious hidden compartment.

“I wonder what is inside this?”

He took the butt of his weapon, and smashed the small wooden door and thrust his hand inside. He smiled at the small wad of notes and summoned his men.

“It would appear that these monks are not so poor after all. Make them talk.”

The ruffians smiled and dashed upstairs, where the monks waited their fate.
...
“You cannot go to Santiago mam,” the security chief said sharply.

“We were supposed to move everyone to the north of Cuba sir. So how the hell did the monks remain where they are?”

“They simply said that God would protect them.”

Maria Castro rose from behind her desk and began pacing the floor.
As the security chief watched, she made a momentous decision.

“I want a helicopter squadron despatched within the hour to evacuate them to Havana. Naturally I will go with them.”

The security chief knew when he was beat.

“I’ll arrange it mam. A security squad will cover your back.”

“Thanks. You better find me a weapon then.”

She smiled as the chief walked out, before gazing at the painting of Fidel.

The six military copters flew over a quiet landscape that had once flourished with human lives and human values. Only at the farms was there any sign of activity. There Man still toiled at the fields and the animals. Trying to provide enough food for the surviving populace.

Maria and the security screen rode at the head of the squadron. As she gazed down, tears welled in her lovely eyes. Being the most powerful woman on Cuba, she brushed them away and hoped the monks would come along quietly.

“We are nearly there mam,” the pilot called as the machines circled over the eighteenth century monetary. It stood there overlooking the rocky coastline, a sentinel that seemed to be on permanent guard.

“Settle us down at an appropriate place,” she ordered.

The squadron came to rest and the security detail deployed in skirmish mode. As she watched, Maria just scowled.

“The monks are not going to open fire. Security indeed.”

They led her to the front door and knocked politely. After a few minutes, it became obvious that there was no one at home.

“Let’s go inside then,” Maria said turning the knob.

As they trooped inside the dismal foyer, an ominous silence assaulted their ears.

“Perhaps they were tipped off mam,” the security chief suggested.

Maria led the way inside the main building and shouted toward the upper floor.

“Something is terribly wrong here,” she muttered.

Maria walked into the prayer room and saw the shifted cabinet. As she thought this over, a sudden shout from outside was quickly followed by bursts of automatic fire.

The Cuban leader pushed herself against the wall, and raised her carbine for action. A moment later, her security chief staggered inside and collapsed at her feet.

It was obvious that the bullet-ridden body was quite dead.

“Madam president,” a rough voice called out. “You are quite surrounded.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“They call me Rodriguez.”

She did not recognise the name.

“Where are the monks?” Maria asked.

“Sleeping in their beds. Just as good monks should.”

“You are lying to me.”

“Your opinion does not count mam. We know that you are lightly armed. Come out peacefully and you will not be harmed.”

“What if I say no?”

An evil laugh rippled through the air.

“Then my men start shooting your pilots.”

Maria inhaled sharply and stepped into the enemy lair.

She stared coldly at the bodies of the security detail and saw the pilots lined up against the lower wall.

A tall but thin man with a dark bushy beard and carbine came forward.

“I’m Rodriguez, and these are my men.”

“From what stone did you crawl out from?”

“We arrived from Haiti to take our chances here.”

“I need to see the monks now.”

The thug smiled and two of his men marched her up to the second floor. As she was pushed roughly through the door, a swarm of flies rose from the butchered bodies.

“You damn pigs!”

“They would not give me what I wanted,” the leader said.

Maria was returned to the floor and asked, “What do you intend to do with me?”

Rodriguez smiled.

“With you as hostage we will get a handsome pay off.”

Maria shook her head proudly.

“You will get no cash from us.”

The thug grabbed her hair savagely and hissed, “Then we will send them your head.”

He released her and said, “Take her to the food hall and I’ll speak there.”

Once she was seated, the leader began.

“We really don’t want a lot mam. Just a cool million will do.”

“Hah!”

“Your unexpected arrival has given us the advantage you see. Your people will not risk losing you.”

“The emergency committee won’t stand for it.”

“I really do not care what they think. Once they realise the consequences of inaction, they will pay up.”

“I suppose that you want me to contact them for you?”

Rodriguez shook his head.

“We know the emergency frequency. One of my men is already telling them of our terms.”

“They will want proof of the claim.”

Rodriguez laughed happily.

“I think one of your pilots has graciously furnished such proof.”

Maria simply glared at him.

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

The thug bowed.

“When we saw the approaching copters, I knew that our luck had changed.”

Maria had no reply to that of course. So, she looked at her folded hands and mulled the problem over.

Ta...

Within the Oval Office, President Wilma sat behind the historic desk as the latest planning meeting got underway.

“Our facility at Raleigh is producing the British solution in quantity now but we still have a deployment problem,” the virologist reported.

“Our distribution links are pretty well severed mam,” the Sec of state added.

Wilma shook her head.

“Surely after putting a ruddy man upon the moon we can figure out a way to get this cure out to the survivors.”

Admiral Kimmel had arrived the day before from Pearl and was listening intently to the banter.

“There may be a way to do this mam.”

Wilma smiled at her former boss.

“The navy has a plan sir?”

The admiral opened his brief case and took out a wad of paper before handing them around.

“Just what are we looking at?” the Sec of State asked.

“A diagram of wind direction sir,” Kimmel said with more than a hint of surprise.

“How can this help us?” the baffled virologist asked.

The admiral smiled.

“On this planet sir the north winds are driven west/east whilst the southern hemisphere sees this process reversed.”

“So what are you driving at?” the virologist asked.

The admiral shook his head at the obvious lack of vision.

“We still have old empty Cold War bio warheads sir. We simply load this cure into eight of them and launch.”

Wilma rolled her eyes at the nerve of the man.

“You kept empty warheads despite our treaty?”

“Yes mam. Just in case of certain developments.”

For the Sec of State, the plan was far too simplistic.

“I take it you want to detonate four warheads in each hemisphere?”

The navy man nodded politely.

“It is absolutely essential mam. By striking at key points in the high and low latitudes, the retro virus will have a damn good chance of global spread.”

“You have always had such a plan?” the virologist asked.

“We called it operation wildfire sir. It was originally designed as a doomsday option if the Soviets looked like winning the third world war.”

Wilma and those around her were truly horrified that such a plan really existed.

“I call that monstrous,” the virologist said.

“Absolutely insane,” the Sec of State added for effect.

The president raised her hand for quiet.

“How long would it take to have an effect?”

“Around a month mam,” Kimmel said happily.

Wilma turned to the virologist for help.

“Are the Brits sure that this new strain has no unknown side effects?”

He nodded.

“They tested it on two subject's mam, and then exposed them to firepox. The killer had no effect upon them.”

The Sec of State shook her head.

“We cannot do this mam. Once unleashed it will put everyone at risk.”

“What else can we do?” Wilma asked.

“Allow it to burn itself out,” the Sec of State replied with confidence.

“It may not do that,” the virologist warned. “Come winter it could mutate again.”

“I understand that rates of transmission are falling,” the president said.

“They are mam. I should add though that accurate figures are hard to come by these days.”

“The plan will work mam,” the admiral said.

The president was really trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. She considered the chance that firepox would indeed mutate and wipe out what was left of humanity.

That was indeed the clinching argument in the end.

“Contact the USS Virginia sir and have them returned to Pearl so that the missiles can be loaded.”

“I took the liberty of doing that already mam. The boys at Raleigh have the warheads, and are simply waiting for the order to fill them.”

Wilma nodded and said, “You have the go ahead sir, and well done on your fore thought.”

As the meeting ended, she placed her face into her sweating palms and muttered, “This had better be the right decision my girl.”
...
Cheryl had spent the week writing down her experiences as Fronter continued with his military duties. When he returned to the small staccato flat, she glanced up at him.

“How was it today?”

He suddenly smiled at her.

“There was an announcement on the short wave transmitter within the last hour. The Americans intend to spread some kind of counter virus across the globe by missile.”

Cheryl dropped the pen in shock.

“You are kidding of course.”

Fronter shook his head.

“It’s true my dear. They intend to launch from the Pacific within the next hour. Apparently it was agreed last week.”

“Then all this is coming to an end.”

“That is right; we will have a chance to rebuild again.”

Cheryl smiled at the thought.

“That would be nice. You still did not tell me how your day had been.”

He sat beside her and saw the scribble.

“Still at it?”

“Nearly finished. I really need to visit the farm.”

He shook his head.

“Is that wise? After everything you have been through?”

“It needs to be done Fronter. I need to lay that ghost to rest.”

Her friend nodded.

“We still have enough daylight left to go now if you want.”

She nodded and stood.

“Just let me grab my coat first.”

The drive to Matanzas took just under an hour and when they stopped upon that old country road, there was no sign of the car.

“Probably got washed away,” she muttered.

They stepped out and looked across the hillside with some shock.

The bracken, bushes, and trees had been smashed and the dirt churned up. A brown stew lay all around them.

“What a damn mess,” she muttered.

With the trooper at her side, she made her way toward the old farmstead, or what was left of it. When they reached it, she simply stared with open mouth.

The gate and fencing was nowhere to be seen, and the home now lay flat and broken. The pigsty and coop had been reduced to bits and pieces, and the air stank with rotting animal flesh.

Cheryl put a hand over her mouth to prevent vomiting.

“I’ve seen quite enough now.”

As they climbed into the van, she turned on the radio and listened to the emergency frequency.
...
Deep within the Pacific Ocean, Captain Vanderhofen and his crew waited the presidential order with deep concern. He had never really considered the possibility that one day his birds would fly. Despite the weekly drills.

“Depth a hundred sir,” sonar reported.

“Keep us there. Any word yet com?”

“The babe is silent sir,” the communications officer replied.

Vanderhofen turned to his number two.

“What do you think?”

The young officer shook his head.

“If you ask me sir I think the top brass have lost their minds. These birds were never designed for benign purposes.”

“I know that sir. Perhaps fighting fire with fire has become our only choice.”

At that moment com barked, “Flash message from Pacific Command.”

The officer tore it off and handed it over to the captain.

Vanderhofen read the code and handed it back.

“Enter the launch code into the combat computer.”

He rolled his eyes before turning to the helmsmen.

“Bring us to launch depth.”

Vanderhofen wandered over and took the communicator.

“Action stations missile. This is not a drill. Prepare birds one
through eight for launching.”

As everyone dashed to their combat positions, the dark missile platform rose to its designated position. Then the bow dropped as it assumed launch configuration.

Vanderhofen took the key from around his neck and stood by his launch control station. His number two waited by his own.

“On my command insert keys and turn to position one.”

“Yes sir.”

“Three, two, one, turn.”

As the keys engaged the eight missile indicators turned to green.

“Do we follow protocol sir and wait the five minutes?”

The captain nodded.

“You never know, they may indeed change their minds.”

As the clocked ticked down, he watched the communication officer closely.

“Any word com?”

“No sir.”

As the clock hit zero Vanderhofen said, “On my mark turn key to launch position.”

“Yes sir.”

“Three, two, one, mark.”

As the keys reached the final position, the missile indicators turned blood red.

“All birds ready for firing sir,” launch control reported.

Vanderhofen closed his eyes and said, “Launch one through four.”

The sub shook as the missiles were squirted toward the surface upon a column of compressed air. As they broke surface the main engine fired.

“Birds running hot and clear sir.”

Vanderhofen suddenly realised that his arm was shaking.

He counted twenty seconds and then said, “Launch five through eight.”
For the second time, the sub shook as the missiles were released.

“Crash dive! Bow planes at fifty down.”

Aye sir.”

The bow dropped further as the sub started to drop like a stone toward the dark depths.

These missiles only carried a single warhead each that day. As they soared into space the main bus separated as the auto guidance took over. When they reached the correct point, retro’s fired to begin the re-entry sequence.

High above the northern pole, the four warheads detonated with a whisper. Shortly after, a similar event occurred over the southern pole.

Now it was up to Mother Nature. Man had done his best for a change.
...
Within their Havana flat, Fronter and Cheryl listened to the broadcast and waited for confirmation of success.

Thirty minutes after the event, the frantic announcer suddenly babbled something in Spanish and Cheryl gazed at her friend.

“Well?”

“They did it!”

He grabbed her and began dancing with joy as noise erupted across the capital.

As the news spread across the globe, other survivors began impromptu celebrations at their deliverance. In all the hubbub, the important point was missed completely.

The new strain would take a month to spread worldwide before the survivors began to contract it. Only then would they be truly safe.

For now though, the deaths would continue.

...Posted...Midnight 6 BST..Tuesday...

When the sun came up at last, Cheryl was sitting with her legs dangling in the warm summer ocean. The carbine sat at her left as the waves washed over her toes.

Memories of a happier time swept over Cheryl as the water took her back through the vortex of time.

“Finished that sand castle yet?”

“No daddy. Still building.”

The twelve year old from Washington DC smiled as her father sat beside her.

“What do you want to do with your life?”

Cheryl thought for a moment.

“The police force is my love father.”

The father was pleased with this reply.

“I’ve been a cop for twenty years love and it is no place for my darling daughter.”

Cheryl placed the last turret to her sand castle and stood up.

“I’ll be okay daddy. You worry too much.”

The parent smiled as his wife ran over with ice cream.

“I hope you brought one for our daughter.”

The woman smiled.

“Of course I did love. Here is yours Cheryl.”

The young girl took it and starting licking frantically, before the hot Carolina sun had a chance to melt it.

“I see the castle is complete,” her mom said.

Cheryl watched as the soft waves lapped at the edges of her beautiful creation.

“The damn sea will soon destroy it though mom.”

The father laughed.

“You really cannot blame the ocean for that love.”

Then he turned to his gorgeous wife.

“Your daughter wants to follow in my footsteps.”

The mom took this news rather badly.

“I’m not having two in the force. I worry enough as it is.”

“Can I play with your gun daddy?”

“I don’t have it as you well know.”

“She must think that she’s sixteen,” the mother whispered.

Cheryl did not understand this change in conversation.

“Why sixteen?”

Her loving father leaned over to explain.

“Family rule love. Firearms are not toys and I won’t teach you to
use one till then.”

“That’s not fair. Eleanor’s dad allows her to shoot.”

The father shook his head.

“Then he is an idiot. Far too many kids accidentally gun down their siblings.”

“I’ll be careful,” Cheryl said.

The father picked her up as the cream rolled down her lips.

“No is my final answer love. A magnum 2.2 is no play thing you know.”

“Listen to your father love. He knows best.”

Cheryl was carefully put down as the sea washed against her sand creation. She watched as the base collapsed and the ocean broke through. Her loving father pointed.

“See what I mean?”

Cheryl finished her cone and glanced around at the beach with its happy sunbathers.

“Why do they come here?”

Her father answered in a child’s way.

“To enjoy the warmth and the freedom. I remember Kennedy you know and sixty-two.”

The child glanced up.

“What happened then?”

The mom flashed a warning glance that the cop ignored.

“The Soviets deployed missiles and nuclear mines on Cuba in order to threaten Kennedy. Let’s just say that the Soviet leadership went a little mad.”

The mother turned away at the awful memory.

“The night after the historic broadcast, myself and mummy made passionate love because we did not expect to be alive at dawn.”

“Oh I see,” the young girl said.

The father shook his head.

“I don’t think you quite understand love.”

“Shall we go over there?”

The loving husband saw his wife pointing to the nearby slot box and smiled.

“Fancy playing the dime slot machines Cheryl?”

The young girl smiled.

“I would love to daddy.”

He held her close as they padded over the soft and golden sand.

The slot box was really an arcade built just off the beach, and when they entered, the quietness was a bit of light relief for the happy family.

“What machine do you want to play?” the mother asked.

Cheryl mulled it over. After all, there were so many.

“How about that one daddy?”

He led her over to the one-armed bandit and put a dime into it.

“Pull the lever then darling.”

She did and watched as the reels rolled over.

“Awe...I never won.”

The mother laughed loudly.

“That is the way of life sweetheart.”

After daddy had put another dime into the hungry machine, Cheryl tried again. Imagine for one moment her amazement as three dollars rolled into view.

“She damn well hit the jackpot!” the father yelled.

They watched as twenty dollars rolled into the bottom tray and Cheryl gasped.

“Did I win that?”

“You sure did darling,” the father whispered.

“I want to buy you both a meal on this.”

The happy parents smiled at the unexpected suggestion.

“I’ll put it into your savings account,” the father said removing the gleaming coins.

As he handed the coins to his loving wife, a young armed hoodlum entered and began waving a firearm at the cashier.

“Just hand the cash over and no one will be hurt.”

The doting father pushed his daughter over to the mom and watched from the machine.

“You can’t do anything,” his wife reminded him.

“You just watch me.”

He made a rapid calculation and edged forward.

“Hurry it up,” the robber ordered as the cashier tried to fill the cash bag.

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

The off duty officer reached the last machine that stood between himself and the criminal.

“Now the second bag please.”

As the cashier started filling it, the officer struck hard.

He darted forward and hit the gun arm, sending the firearm flying.
The young man managed to swing his closed fist and struck the cop upon the chin. As he crashed backward, the criminal made a dash for his weapon.

The father threw himself at him and wrestled the chap to the floor.

“Oh no you damn well don’t mate!” the officer shouted.

As he tried to smash the young man’s face with his fist, fingers grasped at the butt of the gun and closed around it.

The young man twisted and managed to toss the cop off before pushing the barrel in between his eyes.

The father simply stared coldly as the weapon went off.

Cheryl put her hands over her little mouth before dashing forward as the criminal dashed empty handed from the scene.

“Someone call 911,” the mom screamed as the daughter knelt beside the bleeding man.

“Daddy! Daddy, what’s wrong?”

The mom saw Cheryl shake him as blood poured onto the girl’s new dress.

“Daddy...Wake up!”

The mom came forward gently and pulled her away as the cashier dashed over.

“I’ve phoned 911 mam.”

The mother cradled her daughter who suddenly started screaming wildly.

“DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!”
...
Cheryl stood up at last, gazing toward the ocean and shook her head at the fading memory.

“This won’t do...”

A mist seemed to rise from the waves and a figure stood amongst the swishing brine.

“Daddy?”

The loving image nodded and stepped onto the soft sand.

“Hello daughter.”

She smiled, tears streaming down her gentle cheeks.

“Are you really here?”

“Of course Cheryl.”

She felt herself reel suddenly.

“I need to sit down.”

The figure advanced and watched as she sat quickly.

“Your mom sends her love sweetheart.”

Through the tears of sorrow, Cheryl nodded.

“You have to write everything down darling,” the father insisted.

“What do you mean by that?”

“There is little time left you know. Someone has to record this global tragedy.”

Cheryl tried to get her confused mind around this idea.

“Who’ll listen daddy?”

“We will darling.”

“And me.”

Cheryl heard the voice but could not bring herself to turn.

“Trying to ignore me are you? After all this time too.”

The former cop turned her head slowly and saw Mandy sitting beside her.

“You weren’t meant to die here.”

“How do you know,” her late friend replied.

“This really is not right.”

Her father shook his head.

“If you don’t record this my dear no one will.”

Cheryl was about to reply when he faded from view.

“Daddy!”

Cheryl sprang to her feet and noticed that she was alone once more.

A voice from the rear made her react at once.

The cop reached down and grabbed the carbine.

A panicked Spanish voice rang out as the trigger was touched.

“Don’t ever do that.”

The trooper nodded and in broken English said, “We are pulling out now.”

“You speak English?”

The trooper nodded.

“I’m the only one though. I’m Fronter.”

Cheryl smiled and introduced herself. As they formally shook hands, he pointed to the bluffs.

“We really should head back to Havana you know.”

“There is nothing for me there.”

The trooper shook his head and said, “There is something for everyone now.”

Ta...

As the infernal wind picked up, a thick and driving rain began to lash down around them.

“We have to move the animals from the field,” Mandy said running to the top end of their small farm.

The animals were lying beside the fence and the frantic woman grabbed the first piece of wood that she came across.

“Come on now, move.”

The cow got up lazily and allowed itself to be directed toward the hayloft, where it lay down whilst munching upon the food.

“I don’t think that we have much time,” Cheryl pointed out as the storm moved up a gear.

“You are most probably right,” Mandy replied. “We have to try though.”

She looked around and spotted the rake. Grabbing this, she dashed back to the field where the normally sedate stream was rapidly turning into a raging river.

Mandy pointed it out.

“If the banks go the field will flood. Now help me with the cattle.”

Mandy prodded whilst Cheryl raised her arms and hollered wildly. The three animals simply looked at them with no intention of moving at all.

“This will never do,” the cop yelled above the rising storm.

“We’ll just grab the sheep then.”

Dropping the rake, Mandy dashed to the resting sheep and began pulling them by the thick horns towards the main yard. At first, they resisted such treatment, but as the rain became a veritable torrent, they quickly changed their minds.

When they were locked inside the hayloft, the air cracked with lightning and the wind began to rise toward hurricane strength.

“What about the pigs?” Cheryl asked.

“We have to leave them,” Mandy said. “Come on, let’s get indoors.”

Once the rear door was locked, they watched the rain battering off the window with some alarm.

“I hope this building can take this,” Cheryl muttered.

“We may be okay. Ever been through a hurricane before?”

The cop shook her head.

“Always managed to avoid such horrors.”

As they huddled in relative safety for the moment, the stream smashed over the earthen bank and the torrent flooded across the top field. The cattle were taken completely by surprise and attempted to reach the safety of the yard. However, the water rose rapidly and they were swept away.

The lightning cracked and the noise rose to a terrifying crescendo, as the storm hit them side on.

The buildings started to shake and rock as the petrified chickens huddled together inside the coop.

“This looks dangerous,” Mandy muttered. “I better see those cattle again.”

Cheryl shook her head.

“Are you insane?”

“We can’t just leave them out there!”

Mandy shook her off and opened the rear door. A wall of air pushed the women back as Mandy fought against it.

“It’s over a hundred miles an hour,” Cheryl told her. “We will never make it!”

“You can stay here if you want,” the nurse muttered. “My animals always come first.”

She headed out as the cop shook her head and followed her into the maelstrom. They struggled across the dirt yard as the hayloft suddenly crashed to the ground. As a yellow plume of material hurtled through the air, Mandy groaned in horror.

“Help me Cheryl!”

They fought their way to the smashed building and began clawing their way toward the trapped animals. As they did so, an unusual roar filled the air around them.

“What the hell is that?” the cop shouted over the din.

Mandy shook her head and tried to peer through the downpour. As she saw the field, her eyes widened in terror.

“Oh crikey!”

She grabbed the cop’s arm and tried to haul her back towards the main building as the raging torrent smashed into the yard.

With the farm built upon the hillside, the torrent was simply taking its natural path. The problem was that the farm buildings stood in the way.

As they struggled toward the rear door, the torrent struck the shattered loft and debris smashed into them. The women were knocked off their feet and driven hard against the farmhouse wall, as the wave of water smashed into the chicken coop.

Mandy saw feathers and wood being scattered as the river of water pushed everything down the slight incline. They were still pinned by the force, and Cheryl realised they were both in grave danger of drowning.

She grabbed Mandy and started hauling her along the wall as the pigsty was torn apart.

“See that tree?”

“You want us to hold out there?”

Cheryl nodded.

“We don’t stand a chance against this,” Mandy protested.

“Well we can’t stay here.”

As they fought toward the tree, a sudden crack indicated that the farmhouse was starting to give and Cheryl glanced up frantically.

“That’s damn well torn it!”

The side wall caved in as the roof collapsed inwards. As debris showered around them, a large chunk of masonry struck Cheryl upon the forehead and her world went black.

“Where am I?” the cop moaned loudly as she tried to focus.

“In a Havana hospital. Now just lie still.”

Cheryl opened her eyes groggily and saw the forty-year-old woman gazing down at her.

“I had a friend...”

The woman shook her head.

“The rescue team only found you. You were damn lucky. The concussion put you out for a week.”

Cheryl groaned and tried to look around.

“I’m on the floor,” she moaned.

“We converted the stadium into a triage area once the people were moved to the north end. There are around a thousand here.”

Cheryl shook her head before it dawned on her.

“You are American...”

“Been here a month now,” the woman said. “Came over from Florida to lend a hand.”

“I’m Cheryl by the way.”

“Pauline...Nice to meet you.”

Cheryl finally managed to see straight and realised that she lay upon an old camp bed like those around her.

“Any news from the outside world?”

Pauline cheered up.

“We heard on the short wave radio that the Brits have found some kind of cure for the firebox. Though how they intend to use it is anyone’s guess.”

“At least it’s good news,” the painful cop muttered.

“We also heard the President has returned to Washington in order to supervise some kind of plan.”

“A plan?”

Pauline shook her head.

“That’s all we know I’m afraid. Now you rest eh.”

A tall, well-dressed man walked toward her and the cop thought that she recognised him.

“Sorry to see you here,” he said politely.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

The gent nodded.

“I’m Nefonza. We met at the farm.”

“The government official of course. I’m surprised that anyone found me.”

Nefonza sat upon the tiled floor and explained.

“After the hurricane we organised rescue teams and of course the farms got top priority.”

“We were hit pretty badly,” the cop explained.

Nefonza nodded grimly.

“The farm has been scratched. Just soil and debris now. It cannot be salvaged.”

“Pauline said my friend is missing.”

He nodded.

“There was no trace of her I’m afraid.”

Cheryl shook her painful head.

“So what do I do now?”

The official smiled.

“What are you best at?”

The woman grinned.

“I used to be a Washington cop.”

This news surprised him greatly.

“I am suitably impressed. Maria is picking an armed team as we
speak.”

“An armed team?”

“Ms Castro has a few problems here. We have moved the surviving
populace to the north, but a small clique have decided to resist this.”

“So the leader intends to use force.”

The official nodded grimly.

“They have set themselves up at the Gulf of Batanbano to the south of here, and Ms Castro suspects that arm shipments are coming in from Mexico.”

“With all this going on,” the cop said. “A war is the last thing that we need.”

“I tend to agree but negotiations were simply ignored. Maria took down a small party and was fired upon. Now you see why they have to be crushed.”

Cheryl nodded sadly.

“I’ll have a word with Pauline and see when you are fit for action.”

“What about the language barrier?”

The official smiled.

“A few mercenaries arrived a few days ago from Florida, so we shall put you with those.”

Cheryl smiled at the historic irony.

“Maria must be pleased at the twist.”

The official laughed.

“She told me that a dozen yanks armed with weapons could take on anyone and still win through.”

“I hope we don’t let her down.”

The official walked off as Cheryl lay down once more.

Elsewhere on Cuba, a lucky woman was counting her blessings. After losing her friend in the wretched storm, she had wandered south until a truck had picked her up. Now at the Gulf to the south of Havana, she was listening to the group that ran things here.

“Trying to murder Castro’s cousin was pretty stupid,” the tall bloke
was saying loudly.

“We only fired into the air. You wanted to set up this enclave.”

“As a new state yes. How do you think she will do next? Go to church
perhaps?”

Mitre had seen action before but he certainly feared what was coming. His number two was shorter than he, but had no idea what the word diplomacy meant.

“She’ll accept it with some good grace.”

“I doubt that Bellova. She will assemble fighters like the old days and try to storm us.”

“Let her come on then.”

Mitre pointed to the young woman.

“How about you Mandy?”

The woman had not understood a word of the lingo and raised her arms.
Mitre shook his head sadly.

“We need some allies to talk to her.”

“We are all Cubans here,” Bellova said. “Apart from her of course.”

“She can handle a gun so she stays,” Mitre insisted.

Mandy listened as the argument continued.

“Why not launch a raid first then?”

To Mitre that was rank heresy.

“You must be joking. That would walk right into whatever she is
planning. Perhaps that American can be a bit more useful.”

He raised a hand and ushered her over. When Mandy arrived, he tried sign language. As she watched, the nurse gradually got the gist.

“You want me to talk to Maria?”

Mitre nodded hopefully.

“I can do that but I’ll need a vehicle.”

Mitre called a fighter over and said something. The chap took her arm and led her outside, toward the small truck that had brought her here.

“Will that old thing make it so far?”

The fighter ignored her and waited for Mandy to climb inside. As the truck moved off, she suddenly realised that they had no white flag.

When she attempted to explain this, he simply shook his head. The nurse shook her head and muttered, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

The drive north was quite a pleasant affair despite the fallen trees. The truck managed to dodge around these as the roads became a little more solid.

Just outside Havana, the truck came up against a badly parked school bus.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Mandy shouted as the driver decided to check it out. Moments later, machine gun fire tore him down and armed men ran into view.

“I’m surrendering!” the woman yelled as the government troops pointed their carbines.

The officer barked something and she was hustled past the bus and thrown inside an armoured vehicle. As it rattled and bumped its way onward, Mandy became increasingly concerned.

“I just hope they don’t shoot me out of hand.”

When the rear door was thrown open, she was hustled inside the old colonial headquarters and pushed in front of Maria Castro.

“Americano,” Mandy said quickly.

The leader recognised the word and grinned.

“I do speak English you know.”

A soldier spoke and the leader listened intently.

“You were with the rebels I see. Helping them are we?”

Mandy shook her head violently.

“After that hurricane destroyed the farm, I made my way south until
those bozos picked me up.”

“You had a farm here?” Maria asked.

“Certainly did. We were even visited by one of your committee
members.”

“Can you remember who?”

Mandy thought back and said, “Nefonza was his name.”

Maria said something and the trooper popped out again.

“If you are lying, I’ll see to it that your **** are cut off with a blunt blade.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It is my dear. Ah Nefonza.”

The tall official entered the room, beaming when he saw Mandy.

“You will be happy to know that Cheryl is very much alive.”

“You know this woman?”

The official nodded.

“What is the problem here?”

“I was caught with the rebels,” Mandy explained.

“Obviously not by choice,” the official said.

Maria thought this over.

“How long were you with them?”

“Around six days I suppose.”

“Then you got to know them pretty well,” Maria said.

“I don’t speak Spanish so I listened but...”

“How many are there,” Nefonza asked charmingly.

“Not more than forty I’d say.”

Maria smiled.

“The fools have no chance.”

The official then said something and after the reply took Mandy outside.

“Your friend has recovered and is now with our mercenaries.”

“You eh, drafted her?”

The official laughed.

“Believe it or not your friend volunteered.”

He led her outside and toward a small compound. As they entered a familiar face shouted out, “Good grief Mandy!”

Mandy ran forward and threw her arms around her.

“I thought that you were a goner.”

“I have thick skin Mandy.”

“What’s with the kakis and carbine?”

Cheryl smiled.

“I joined up with the American contingent. The commander is a Gulf
vet.”

“You would like to join up?” the official asked.

“Okay mate. I want to keep an eye upon my friend.”

When the official spoke to the commander, he marched up.

“I hope you are not just cannon fodder.”

Cheryl glared at him.

“She can handle herself.”

The commander nodded and took her across to a large wall cupboard.

“Try these on.”

Mandy selected the army top and trousers but drew the line at the clumsy boots. When the ammo belt and carbine was handed over, she examined it carefully.

“These are old Soviet weapons.”

The commander grinned.

“All they have I’m afraid.”

Mandy returned to her friend and asked casually, “So we are off to war I hear.”

“Maria certainly has a bee in her bonnet about being shot at.”

“I was actually with them you know.”

The commander overheard and marched over.

“What do you know about them?”

“They are heavily armed with carbines and have only forty fighters.”

“No artillery or armour?”

“No commander,” Mandy replied. “They seem pretty amateur to me.”

“That could be a good thing,” the commander said. “The less killing done the better.”

“How many mercenaries have you got?”

“Fourteen including you two but Castro has promised us army help.”

“This should be a walk over then,” Cheryl suggested.

“Don’t get too cocky,” the commander nodded. “No enemy is a walk over now a days.”

Mandy nodded as he marched away.

“He seems pretty confidant,” Mandy said.

“He personally recruited his men. We are simply hangers on.”

“That explains it then,” Mandy said.

The official then returned and spoke to the commander. As the conversation neared its end, Mandy joined them.

“I forgot to say earlier that the rebel leader wants to talk.”

The official shook his head sadly.

“You cannot speak to an armed gang miss.”

He turned and walked away as the commander called the mercenaries together.

“Ms Castro has decided to strike after sunset. So conserve your energy and get some rest.”

“The rebels want to talk?”

Mandy glanced at her old friend.

At least their leader wants to.”

She paused and added, “I wonder how many of us will still be around on the morrow?”

It was just after midnight when the army trucks pulled out of the proud Cuban capital. The mercenaries were backed up by the remnants of the army, just as Maria had promised.

Along with artillery, a few tanks had been brought out of mothball for this odious occasion.

Cheryl and Mandy sat with the dozen Americans in the lead truck simply gazing around.

“Just stick to me and you two will be fine,” the commander said.

“Don’t worry about us,” Cheryl said. “Us two have been through far more than you could possibly imagine.”

The proud veteran smiled.

“I saw six of my lads blown to pieces just outside Baghdad by mines then three died when our APC was bombed by our own aircraft.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Mandy whispered.

“I’m trying to say in my own clumsy way that you should watch your
back, as well as the front line.”

Cheryl nodded.

“Thanks for the tip.”

The vehicle ploughed on through the night toward the rocky cove, unaware that the rebels were a little smarter than they had been given credit for.

As the lead truck turned a sharp bend, a terrible explosion blew it onto its side.

“You okay?” Cheryl asked as the vehicle filled with smoke.

“I’ll survive. We had better get out of here.”

As they clambered toward the rear exit, it became obvious that the commander and many of his men were dead.

The two women and four mercenaries crawled into the night, as the artillery pieces were lumbered into an aggressive posture.

One of the mercenaries scrambled forward and was blown to bits at once.

“Watch for land mines!” Cheryl called out as the three survivors huddled close by.

The tank shells rocketed overhead as the air was suddenly filled with small arms fire.

“What a place for a ruddy holiday,” Mandy muttered as the cop pointed to the nearby bushes.

“We had better get over there. Right follow me!”

She dashed over as the artillery unleashed a shell at long last. As it struck a target, the rebels opened up again.

“The enemy has laid a well planned trap for us,” the cop moaned.

Cheryl glanced back as the regular troops took up position along the other side of the road.

“Damn idiots,” she growled.

Mandy glanced ahead at the flashes and let rip with her carbine.

“What I would give for a ruddy grenade.”

Cheryl crawled forward as the three survivors of the yanks crawled beside her.

“Just follow us mam.”

“Where too?” the cop asked.

“See that old building?”

Cheryl could see it and groaned.

“It’s too ruddy far!”

“Just close your eyes then.”

They broke cover and dashed straight for it but a spasm of automatic
fire brought them down.

“As I expected,” Cheryl muttered. “An enemy strong point.”

Mandy was now deeply worried.

“What are we going to do? The regulars don’t speak English.”

Cheryl shook her head.

“We try and take care of ourselves. What we need is some heave
munitions upon that damn building.”

She glanced back and noted the heavy artillery piece that continued to launch shells across the copse.

“That’s damn useless!”

She suddenly started crawling back and when she reached the road, she hollered to the gunners and pointed.

“Hit the ruddy building!”

Despite the language barrier, they understood and levelled the barrel towards the correct angle.

The women watched as the next two shells reduced the building to rubble.

“Now move it!” the cop screamed before dashing forward to the top of the copse.

The tanks now came forward as the regulars broke across the mined road at last. The dark muzzles spraying shells into the bay, where the sporadic gunfire appeared to come from.

“Seems that we are winning,” Mandy muttered.

“Don’t count your chickens my dear,” the cop warned. “This battle ain’t over yet.”

Cheryl moved forward down the hill toward the distant ocean as the regulars sprayed bullets in all directions.

As the women reached a tree, a rebel popped his head out and Mandy took him out with a short burst.

“Let’s try this way,” she suggested moving ahead quickly.

Mandy crawled forward until she suddenly heard something.

“There may be someone there,” she hissed.

A quiet meow reached her ears and she smiled sweetly.

“It’s only a cat.”

Mandy stretched a hand out as a burst of fire exploded around them.
Cheryl rolled and let rip as shrieks of anguish rolled across that tortured bay.

“I think that I got them,” the cop whispered as the old Soviet armour rolled forward down the hill.

Cheryl suddenly realised that her friend was a little too quiet and crawled over. As she looked with the moonlight streaming down, the gaping wound was all too obvious.

“Oh no...Please...”

She ignored the bullets and rolled Mandy over. As the sad moon looked down, the cop saw the open but glazed eyes staring back at her.

“You basta...!”

The tanks fired together as Cheryl wept over her late friend and colleague. Shells exploded just in front of the beach line as the troops surged forward in a mighty charge.

Cheryl heard the screams of the wounded and dying as she lay over the silent body weeping.

A sudden silence fell across the battlefield, followed by a heavy hand upon her shoulder.

A Spanish voice said something that despite the language barrier the cop understood.

As she gazed up at the young Cuban trooper, she smiled and whispered one word.

“Thanks...”

Porton Down in England had always been the UK’s top weapons research lab. During the fifties experiments with bio weapons had taken place there, as it did in both east and western block countries.

Today however, the firepox virus was the real enemy and despite indications that infection rates were falling, finding a solution was still top priority.

The three virologists were seasoned veterans in bio warfare, and despite firepox being an ancient virus, their knowledge was highly useful.

“The latest test subjects have arrived David.”

“We had better have a look at them Kenneth. I just hope they are at least healthy.”

Paul wandered in carrying a health report.

“What have we got?” David asked.

“Three women from the Devon area. Their malnutrition level is nominal though.”

“We had better get started then.”

Kenneth was the moralist among this group. Kidnapping subjects for the latest test was repugnant to his sensitivities but his doubts had been overruled. After all, the very survival of the human race was at stake.

They found the three subjects standing together in the decontamination room.

They did indeed look thin but the senior virologist believed it was better than nothing.

“Turn the taps on,” David instructed.

Moments later a thin water spray jetted from the ceiling, whilst the women glared toward the showerheads.

“They don’t seem to like it sir,” Paul said with a smile.

“I don’t blame them,” Kenneth whispered.

When the shower was shut off, David called an armed trooper who entered the cell.

The bald woman of fifty was hauled out into the corridor and toward the actual test chamber.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Trying to find a cure mam,” David said as she entered the room.

They watched the trooper strap her down to the chair as the virologists arrived.

“I’m all for solving the crisis,” the woman said. “Though kidnap is a little extreme.”

“Would you have volunteered?” Paul asked.

She shook her head.

“We had better carry on then,” David said.

“What do you intend to do then?” she asked.

David smiled at her as Paul walked to the metallic table and returned with the syringe.

“Nothing to worry about miss,” David assured her. “We simply inject you with a benign retro virus which explains the lack of suits.”

The woman smiled and tried to relax as the needles penetrated her left arm.

“Now we wait,” Paul muttered.

After five minutes had elapsed, there was an unexpected reaction. Large red blotches began to appear upon her exposed skin and the virologists fled the room.

“This should not be happening,” Paul said.

“Are you sure all the lethal genes were removed?” Kenneth asked.

“I treble checked,” Paul replied.

They watched through the window as white smoke began to rise around the unfortunate test subject, before she started screaming. Within moments, the flesh blackened before crumbling into ash. Only the lower region remained intact.

“Now we have a problem,” David muttered.

“We still have two variants left,” Paul said sadly.

“All testing must be halted,” Kenneth protested. “At least until we know why she died.”

“Nonsense,” David said. “She simply had an adverse reaction.”

Kenneth pointed to the charred remains and said, “You call that adverse?”

The head virologist spoke to the trooper and he returned to the holding cell in order to retrieve a second subject.

She was younger than the first and a little healthier. She did not protest as the straps were secured in test room two.

“We should take a blood sample first,” Kenneth suggested before they entered.

“I’ll go along with that,” David replied.

“I’ll do it then,” Paul said.

The woman watched, wincing as the sample was taken. Then a drop was placed upon a slide, and the second batch retro virus added.

David watched as the virus went through rapid amplification.

“She would burn out too,” he muttered.

“So where are we going wrong?” Paul asked.

David mulled the new problem over.

“We stripped the virus back to basics and removed those genes responsible for the shutting down of the sweat glands, and halting the body’s ability to control its internal temperature.”

“Could the damn thing be able to regenerate itself?” Paul asked.

“That would certainly fit the facts,” Kenneth whispered.

“Hey,” the woman said. “What you boffins talking about?”

David turned and smiled.

“How many times were you exposed to firepox without becoming infected?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders.

“Perhaps a dozen odd times. Perhaps less. I saw my work colleagues being wiped out.”

“Perhaps it is the exposure level?” Kenneth suggested.

“Go and get batch three for a moment,” David suggested.

When it duly arrived, he took the sample and gazed into the microscope viewer.

“Let’s see what is going on.”

He watched as the benign retro virus began to reconstitute itself, restoring those deadly genes that had been so painstakingly removed.

“Damn it!” he muttered. “This thing seems indestructible.”

“So the testing halts?” Paul asked.

David nodded.

“It has to until we sort this out. After all, we are not murderers.”

They returned to the secure lab, donning the protective suits before
working upon the virus once more. As days passed, they seemed not much further forward.

“The damn thing is immune to everything except plutonium and we cannot use that,” David muttered.

Kenneth meantime had removed the nucleus from the cold virus and was inserting the fourth benign retro virus deep within the empty cell.

After doing this tricky work, he took a micro needle and filled it with amino acid before returning to the firepox killer.
After injecting, he watched for any reaction.

He had expected the normal negative result and was pretty amazed when the viral wall collapsed before his eyes.

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered to himself.

“Have you got something?” Paul asked.

“Take a look for yourself.”

Paul peered and grinned behind his facemask.

“What did you use?”

“Amino acid that’s all.”

David joined them and gazed at the destroyed killer.

“Now we really are getting somewhere. Any ideas how we can use this?”

“We could engineer a new type of cold virus that raises the amino
acid level by two parts per million. That could kill the virus off.”
David smiled.

“You had better set to work then. Our species is depending on it.”

The women were mucking out the chicken coop when the call came.

“Anyone here?”

Neither one of them could understand the Spanish lingo, and when they stepped outside they saw from whom the call had come.

He was dressed much like a farm hand with a cap to match. He carried an automatic rifle in his hands and looked fairly decent.

“Can we help you?” Mandy asked slowly.

The gent smiled and slowed himself right down. He managed to utter a few broken English words.

“Emergency Committee.”

Cheryl smiled.

“We met the official a while ago chum. So why are you here?”

“Need you to go Antilla.”

The women had never heard of it.

“Do you have a map handy?” Mandy asked.

Their guest seemed to understand and pulled one out from his rear
pocket. After he pointed the cove out, the women shook their collective heads.

“That is over four hundred miles to the south my friend,” the cop said carefully.

“You lot were supposed to take people to Havana remember?”

The gent shook his head.

“Set up new camp there. Risk of outbreak.”

Mandy smiled.

“That Castro woman has her head screwed on after all.”

“Why we go?” Cheryl asked.

“Just to register then I drive you back here.”

“What do you think?” Mandy asked.

“He looks quite harmless,” Cheryl replied. “I say go and get it over
with.”

When they agreed, the fellow smiled and led them back to the country road where the truck was parked behind the car.

After setting off at a fast pace, the hours dragged on. Strangely the gent remained quiet, which they put down to the language barrier.

It was eight hours later and dusk, when the farm truck rolled into the cove town of Antilla.

“Seems quaint enough,” Mandy observed as they pulled into a side street. Just ahead, the headlights illuminated the docks and the truck was met by two heavyset individuals.

“You come out now.”

“Let’s register then,” the cop said climbing out.

The driver was talking to the men quite quickly before smiling at the woman.

“Follow me please.”

“This won’t take long I hope,” Mandy said. “Our animals can get a
bit upset.”

The driver ignored this as they entered what used to be the office
of the harbour master.

“Sign book?”

Cheryl smiled and put her name down as Mandy followed suit. A moment later, the two brutes entered.

“You can take us back now,” Mandy said hopefully.

One of the two men produced a dagger and pointed to the rear room.

“What the hell is going on?” Mandy asked.

“Just do as told please,” the driver said helpfully.

The women were jostled into the rear map room and promptly locked inside.

“We should get our ruddy heads examined,” Cheryl cursed. “What a filthy trap to walk into.”

Mandy glanced around at the maps and the new walls.

“There is certainly no way out of here Cheryl. What do you think
they want with us?”

“Slave labour perhaps? One thing that I do know though. They have nothing to do with the emergency committee.”

They sat upon the chairs with legs crossed, as another prisoner lay in the far warehouse awaiting yet another assault.

The seventeen-year-old Conchello had been here for weeks now. A short trip north to find more sheep had ended in disaster. As he had investigated a silent farm, two men had grabbed him and brought the youth here.

Now he lay naked and strapped to a table within a dark and dusty warehouse. His abusers fed him on and off, usually after the usual treatment. He knew what his captors were of course. A rabid rape gang.

He heard footsteps enter and a young bloke of no more than twenty approached rapidly.

“Where’s my gruel?” Conchello asked.

“It’s coming mate. My turn now you see.”

The youth closed his eyes as he heard the trousers being swiftly removed.

“Why not just kill me?”

“That would be a waste my bum friend. We really need you.”

The youth climbed on, soft lips kissing the firm shoulders as his member rammed inside the anal canal. Conchello squealed in pain as his abuser took his pleasure.

Surprisingly, he did not last long and after climbing off, the youth slapped Conchello’s bleeding buttocks hard.

“Damn good shag mate. I reckon you can rest now.”

“What do you mean by rest?”

“We picked up two tarts today from up north. They’ll be far better
fun.”

Conchello gritted his teeth as his mind correctly joined the dots.

“You leave them alone.”

“Play your cards right and perhaps you can screw them.”
His abuser laughed as he walked off to collect the victim’s meal.
...
Within the map room, the girls were still unaware of what was about to befall them.

“I suppose they will want us to unload boats here,” Mandy was saying.

“I think that is an obvious conclusion,” Cheryl replied. “This would be a perfect landing area. Perhaps you know the cargo comes from Florida.”

Mandy cheered up.

“That would be a slice of luck. Once the American’s learn of our plight, they are bound to rescue us.”

“Sorry to pour cold water on your hopes my dear but I doubt that. Our world has gone to hell you know.”

The door opened and a well-armed brute pointed to Mandy.

“Time to work,” he managed to say.

Mandy raised her eyebrows.

“See you later.”

She watched the rifle carefully as the guard led her out of the office and toward one of the loading areas.

“I hope the work ain’t hard mate. I’m something of a small girl after all.”

The captor remained silent as they entered the small warehouse. She was quickly grabbed by two others and manhandled to a waiting table.
“Hey, hold on a second.”

She was tossed on, and her arms and feet were quickly tied with fishing rope to the table legs.

“What are you really up to?”

One of the captors produced a blade and started cutting through her
denim garments before ripping them off. As the underwear was revealed, the bra strap was easily cut and the knickers torn away.

“Quite a catch,” the first man said happily. “Who wants to go first?”

His friend was sixty and quickly removed his dirty breeches.

“It’s been twenty odd years since I had it.”

Mandy screamed as he climbed on top and raped her savagely.

“Just shut your damn mouth,” he hissed in Spanish.

Mandy gritted her teeth as he pumped away until all was done.

The assault lasted an hour. Each taking their turn before exhaustion took over. Mandy was now but a shadow of her former self. A husk devoid of emotion, devoid of normal human reactions.

She could see a second table nearby and correctly guessed what her friend’s fate would be.

She heard the steady patter of footsteps and found the driver looking at her carrying a bowl of gruel.

“Your damn turn now?”

He shook his head.

“I feed you.”

“What is it?”

“Oatmeal. You must keep your strength up.”

He slowly spoon-fed her until the gruel had gone and then he just stared at her helpless and terribly abused body.

“What the hell are you staring at?”

“I be sorry.”

“Not accepted mate,” she hissed. “When the committee hear of this
you lot will hang for sure.”

“I not agree.”

“Then help us.”

He shook his head.

“Not dare.”

Then she watched him drawing a finger across his throat.

“They would kill you?”

He nodded.

“Not if we get them first. Who else here?”

“Another called Conchello.”

Mandy inhaled sharply.

“He’s a friend of ours. Where being held?”

“Other warehouse. I go now.”

“Wait a second. What’s your name?”

“Sanchez.”

She heard him leave and vainly struggled against her bonds.

“I hope Cheryl has better luck than me.”
...
Her friend sat lamely within the old harbour master’s office trying to work out some kind of game plan.

“Mandy is taking her time. Perhaps the boat is a little bigger than normal.”

When the door opened, she saw the rifle pointing straight at her.

“Work time.”

“You said it mate!”

She followed him outside, the muzzle gently prodding her toward the waiting loading area. As they approached the darkened building, she saw shadows.

“Just have to trip then.”

She suddenly yelled and went down face first as if she had indeed tripped over her clumsy feet. As she looked up at the barrel, she smiled sweetly.

“Sorry about that mate. Help me up?”

The gunman shook his head and said, “Up now.”

Cheryl shook her head and lashed out with her feet. As the weapon was hurled into the air, a second strike at his groin took him down in agony.

Cheryl leapt up and managed to reach the rifle as two armed antagonists appeared in the doorway.

The cop obeyed her years of training and opened up. As the bodies went down, she used the butt to crown the groaning man before running inside the loading area.

“Crikey Mandy. What have they done to you?”

“Just untie me eh?”

Cheryl quickly did so and was about to pull her toward the exit when Sanchez rushed inside.

The cop was about to gun him down when Mandy stopped her.

“He’s different. He was forced too.”

“Bring your ruddy truck back and get us out of here!” the cop demanded.

As Sanchez ran off Mandy grabbed her.

“Conchello is here. We must find him.”

“What?” the cop asked.

“The driver told me. It beggars belief what they may have done to him.”

“Do you know where?” Cheryl asked.

“Some kind of warehouse.”

“Come on then. We will do our best.”

As they dashed out the truck arrived and the anxious driver leapt out.

“We go now.”

Mandy shook her head and shouted, “Where is Conchello?”

The driver pointed to the far off building and the two women rushed off.

They found the bleeding youth strapped down and the former nurse simply winced.

“Just get him to the truck,” Cheryl said sharply. “You can treat him back at the farm.”

They had to half carry him to the truck and moments later, they were on the road home once more.
...
When dawn broke, Mandy was still treating the terrible internal damage done to their young friend.

“How is he?” the cop asked.

“Pretty bad. He’s gone feverish. There are probably internal injuries.”

“I just hope Sanchez has told the committee what happened.”

“He will Cheryl.”

Conchello groaned and coughed violently.

“Sure he has not contracted the disease?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Mandy whispered. “No temperature rise and certainly no blotching.”

“Do the best you can for him. I’ll milk the cow.”

Cheryl found the animal standing by the fence looking rather pensive. Cheryl rolled her eyes and asked, “What’s the matter with you dear?”

As she arranged the milking stool, she saw that the cattle and sheep were lying beside the fence too.

“Something weird going on,” she muttered as she milked the cow like an expert.

Once it was full, she returned to the kitchen and found Mandy collapsed upon the simple chair.

“What’s up?”

A tear stained face gazed up at her.

“Conchello died a few moments ago.”

Cheryl shook her head sadly.

“That may not be the only problem.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The animals are huddling by the fence.”

Mandy looked worried by this slice of news.

“It means that a storm is coming.”
...
They carried the body of Conchello out of the front gate and buried him beneath an old gnarled tree. As a few comforting words were uttered, the clouds began to roll in and a cold breeze rolled over them.

Mandy gazed up at the dark sky and looked south toward the hillside.

“I don’t like the looks of this my dear. We had better baton down the hatches.”

“A storm is but a storm,” Cheryl said.

Mandy shook her head.

“This lot is looking rather ominous. Come on, we have little time as it is.”

I think 28 views deserves another episode...Created a gap now...

ta...

The she fox lay curled up safely inside her hole as the young nestled up to her wet teats.

She shifted her position as the little teeth grazed the sensitive mammary gland.

“Do you mind?”

The young simply ignored her of course. Preferring to suckle as they wanted.

She pushed them away gently with her paws and rose slowly. As she yawned, the fox trotted outside and gazed around at the world gone mad.

“Rather quiet this evening,” she muttered.

She raised her dark nose and sniffed the warm air.

“At least the scent of putrefaction has gone.”

She turned her head and barked, “Stay here kids. Mummy will be right back.”

She wandered out and into the hilly undergrowth before trotting down toward the former town.

As she entered, she noted the ominous silence and the lack of man himself. Despite their repeated attempts to kill her off, she had enjoyed the left over fast food burgers of course.

“Can’t be many left now.”

She saw one guy who was quite obviously pissed out of his mind scrambling along the wall. She trotted closer and smelt the terminal wood alcohol.

“The idiot is obviously blind now. In a matter of hours he’ll be dead like the rest.”

She trotted toward a rather salubrious home off Main Street where the owners usually left thick scraps of meat. When she forced her way through the hedge, the grass was bare.

She sighed deeply and noted that the garden door was wide open.

“I’ll just take a look.”

She entered slowly, ears pricked for the slightest sound. Only silence greeted her. At the kitchen door, she pawed it open and clambered up the old wooden stairs.

Her benefactors lay within the first bedroom. Their gleaming skulls just above the layer of human fat and ash.

“I wonder what it was that killed them?”

She crept out slowly and reached the main street once more. She spotted the food store and decided that it was a good place to find yum yums for her hungry young.

As she entered though, the bare shelves told quite a different story.

“There must be people after all. Now, where could they have gone I wonder?”

She thought this over for a moment before the rattle of heavy gunfire took her attention.

Turning her sensitive ears the she fox trotted off towards lower town and stopped in shock.

The road had been blocked off by uniformed troops, and tanks backed up by APC’s were shelling a building. She saw the explosions followed by reports of small arms.

“What are these fools up to?”

She lay flat and listened in too the human voices.

“So they are trying to remove looters eh? Daft way to do it.”

As another tank shell struck, a group of armed teens dashed from the building firing in final desperation. The fox watched the return fire, watched as the kids were torn down. Shaking her head sadly, she headed off for safer climes.

As the land rose, she came across a street that this fox had never visited. Tall, staccato fronts lined it. It gave her the very strong impression of former wealth and she greedily licked her full lips.

“I just might find something for my little ones here.”

She spotted a number of open doors and trotted into the first. The kitchen was silent but voices reached her from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Out of curiosity, she trotted up the rickety steps and overheard the short conversation.

“You really don’t want to live do you? The human race is finished!”

“What about those detonations then?” a female voice asked.

“How the hell do I know? I have not seen any army about here.”

“I’m not taking those pills.”

“I’ve taken my own dear. Suicide is a better option than starving to death. You saw the empty shelves.”

“Why did we not head north when the emergency committee asked?”

“You know why darling. They probably wanted to kill us.”

“Maria Castro would never do that.”

“I wasn’t taking the risk. Now swallow these.”

The fox heard a scream and shook her head.

“I’m not having this”

She growled and scratched at the locked door. Only a male voice was returned.

“**** off!”

She trotted off toward the next open door hoping for better luck.
As she entered the silent home, she smelt the scent of recent death.
Within the large lounge sat a cot. Within that cot lay two small corpses. She looked and noted the unusual circumstances.

“There is no burn marks.”

She saw the smashed chest and the terribly twisted legs of the babes. She could not understand it and trotted into the rear kitchen.
The body hung from a stool, and the green tongue poking from the gnarled mouth told the whole tragic story.

“He murdered the little ones before taking his own life. Hope he rots in hell!”

She trotted outside and vomited.

“I’m can’t deal with this hell hole...”

The fox dashed away until at a crossroads, terrible screams reached her ears.

“What’s that all about?”

She dashed toward the music store and poked her head inside. What she saw sickened her.

An old bloke around seventy had the severed waist of a young woman upon the floor, and was humping it quite happily. How the woman died she could not tell, but the death had been recent.

The fox snarled at him before bounding across the shop floor. He raised his head as the savage jaws closed around his exposed throat.
He screamed as the skin was ripped open, and he heeled over sideways. To make sure she went for his rigid manhood and tore it away before spitting it back out again.

“I had better return to my young,” she hissed. “No point sticking around here. Some idiot may think that I murdered him.”

She trotted inland once more, sniffing the ground for any scent. She suddenly stopped when she saw the gated field.

“This looks a bit more promising.”

She sat upon her haunches looking at the fence, and judged it to be ten foot high.

“Could be a struggle but my young come first today.”

She ran back and steeled herself. Then running at full throttle she leapt, rear paws just pushing off the fence top. As she landed safely, she turned and grinned.

“Must be fitter than I think for an old dear.”

She saw the sleeping farm animals and headed toward the dirt yard.
When she heard the clucking from the hen house, she suddenly relaxed.

“My young shall feed well tonight.”

She entered easily and watched the birds panic.

“Some think that we kill everything but in reality I don’t. Two will do today.”

She crouched down and waited until two birds came within range. Then she sprang, ringing their long necks mercifully. She cooed and trotted back toward the tall fence.

Then she stopped.

“Can’t leap that with this food in my damn maw. I know...”

She dropped them off and began digging frantically until a short path had been created then she picked up the still warm food.

As the moon looked down, the she fox entered her den and dropped the birds in front of her hungry babes.

“Now don’t all eat at once. Let mummy break it up for you first.”

Cheryl woke with a sudden start. As she sat up exposing the breasts, Mandy yelled at her.

“It’s gone nine and a ruddy fox has raided then hen coop!”

She dressed quickly and followed her friend outside.

“How many did she take?”

“Seems like two. The fox burrowed underneath the fence.”

Cheryl suddenly realised that someone was missing.

“Where’s Conchello?”

“He’s gone...His bed is empty!”

When they reached the coop, Cheryl stepped inside and saw the floor now littered with feathers.

“As long as only two were taken. Wait a second.”

She walked forward and suddenly grabbed one of the hens, expertly snapping its neck.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

She gazed at Mandy but gave no reply.

Cheryl marched out and when she reached the front gate, she let herself out.

Her mind seemed to know exactly where to find the fox and her defenceless cubs. When she reached the entrance to the deep hole,
she knelt and dropped the bird.

“I have some food for you.”

Moments later the she fox trotted out and stopped.

“No need to fear me.”

The fox appeared to understand and trotted forward, ignoring the food. She stopped and sat upon her haunches as Cheryl stroked the warm head.

She gazed into the animal’s eyes and saw with some shock the blue eyes. Identical to her own.

“Take care of your cubs and come as often as you need too.”

She stood and walked away as the fox howled after her.

When the human had gone, she picked up the fresh kill and returned it to her children who yelped with hungry pleasure...To be continued...Monday...

A month had now passed and Cheryl had returned from one of her regular forages.
“I managed to find some wild strawberries after all.”
She suddenly stopped and gazed at the kitchen table.
“Oh sorry. You two are bonking so I’ll just take these into the lounge.”
She strode past and waited until they joined her.
“How many did you find?”
“Quite a lot. We could use these for jam.”
“It certainly will improve the bread ration.”
Cheryl gave her a rather strange look.
“Does he perform to your satisfaction?”
Mandy smiled.
“He doesn’t seem to know the word stop.”
Cheryl smiled.
“It’s my turn later remember.”
Mandy was about to answer when there was a polite knock at the door.
”Wonder who that is?” Cheryl said grabbing the hunting rifle.
When she opened the door, a tall but well dressed man stood there smiling.
“Hello.”
The gent bowed and introduced himself.
“I’m Nefonza, part of the emergency committee.”
“I didn’t know we had one.”
He smiled.
“It is my job to check out the local farms and that is why I am here.”
“You better come in then.”
As they reached the lounge, she pointed out her friends.
“This is Mandy and the young lad is Conchello.”
“You are American?”
“We both are,” Mandy said. “Is that a problem?”
The gent shook his head.
“Not in these strange times.”
“You spoke about an emergency committee,” the cop reminded him.
The gent sat and outlined the plan for Cuba.
“We estimate that sixty percent of the populace perished here so at present we are shunting survivors to the north of the island.”
“You intend to feed them there?” Mandy asked.
“It would save a lot of travelling,” the official replied.
“How can we help?” Cheryl asked politely.
The gent smiled and visibly relaxed.
“Farms like yours must help to keep them alive. Any excess produce will be collected by truck and taken to Havana for distribution.”
Mandy suddenly looked worried.
“We hardly produce enough for ourselves.”
“May I have a look around?”
“She is the farmer here,” Cheryl said. “Mandy can do that for you.”
Stepping out into the rear yard Mandy pointed to the chicken coop.
“We get quite a few eggs from those.”
The official smiled and jotted the info down.
She pointed out the pigsty with the four happy animals, before taking him to the small upper field.
“We don’t have that many animals you see.”
After taking notes, he mulled it over.
“You must produce excess wool, eggs and milk here. This is what we will do then. How about supplying two milk churns, and say fifty eggs a week? As for the sheep. We could use the wool.”
Mandy smiled.
“That would be great. One snag though. I did own my farm but never sheared.”
The official grinned.
“We can send shearers for you. Now is there anything you would like?”
The answer was a simple one.
“We only have a hunting rifle and three boxes of ammo.”
The official understood and made a note.
“I’ll send up another two rifles with a hundred rounds by nightfall. We need to protect people like yourselves. Our very future depends upon it.”
Mandy had a question for him.
“Who’s in charge now?”
The official smiled.
“Maria Castro, his first cousin.”
The name rang a bell.
“Wasn’t she taught in New York?”
“Yes she was. Your education system was always far superior. Now she helps to put Cuba back on its feet.”
“How many government types are there?”
“Not too many. The virus thinned them out. Our committee is twenty strong, and Maria heads it of course.”
Mandy nodded and took him back to the lounge.
“Everything settled then?” Cheryl asked.
“Done and dusted shall we say,” Mandy replied.
The official thanked them before leaving for his next destination.
“We should get more arms tonight,” Mandy said.
“What will they take?” Cheryl asked.
When Mandy recounted the deal, the cop was pleased.
“Sounds as though these fellows have their heads screwed on.”
“At least they are trying to pick up the pieces.”
“One thing worries me though,” the cop said.
“What’s that?”
“By bringing everyone to the north end, surely another outbreak will prove devastating.”
Mandy nodded.
“That is the obvious downside but what else can they do?”
Cheryl tapped Conchello’s shoulder.
“It’s time to service me my lad.”
Mandy watched as they headed upstairs, quietly wondering what the next day would bring.
The official was as good as his word. Just before sunset, a small vehicle arrived and two more hunting rifles with plenty of ammo were handed over.
The frantic banging woke them up with a horrible shock. The party dashed to the door and grabbing the rifles opened it slowly.
A short woman dressed in gypsy clothes stood there frantically trying to explain something in Spanish.
“Slow down,” Cheryl said ushering her inside.
“What the damn does she want?”
“No idea Mandy. That phrase book won’t help either.”
The woman sat down and broke down completely. Conchello knelt in front and took her shaking hands. They exchanged words and a worried look came over his youthful features.
“What is it?” Mandy asked.
The youth stroked his face and tried sign language instead. They watched his fingers drawing a steeple first of all.
“That’s a church,” Cheryl said.
Then he appeared to stab himself.
“Someone has been murdered in a church?” Mandy asked.
Conchello thought quickly. He showed three fingers and then repeated the stabbing motion before raising one finger.
“I think that I’ve got it,” the cop muttered. “He means three will kill one other.”
She held his hand.
“Where? Eh show us.”
Conchello took the distraught woman back to the door and picked up the rifle. The women followed suit and followed them outside. After a longish walk to the country road, they saw a small car waiting for them.
The woman climbed inside and gunned the engine as the passengers joined her.
She drove them south along the coastal road until they entered the quaint town of Moron. She pulled right at a Spanish heritage sign and they were soon deep within the wilds once more.
After crossing a small bridge, she stopped and pointed. At the top of the hill stood a small fortress with ecclesiastic undertones. A large crucifix stood upon the bell tower, and the battlements looked quite intact despite the passage of three centuries.
“Looks like a monastery to me,” Mandy said.
“Strange place for a forthcoming murder but we should check it out.”
The woman walked frantically toward it as they tried to keep up. As the incline levelled off, she rushed at the wrought wooden door. Her fists banged repeatedly until a slot appeared and dark eyes gazed back. They exchanged words until Cheryl decided to intervene.
“Does anyone speak English here?”
She was surprised when the hidden male replied, “A few of us do.”
“This woman came to us for help sir bringing a rather cryptic message. Do you know why she’s so upset?”
The male said slowly but firmly, “She is quite mad since the disease struck.”
“Then why did she bring us here?” Mandy demanded.
“Who knows?”
Conchello watched this before resorting to sign language again. He used his palm to indicate a child before repeating the stabbing motion.
“He seems to think a child will be murdered here,” the cop commented.
“Just stay where you are and I will summon the abbot.”
They waited for ten minutes until the door was unlocked and a pleasant voice said, “Please enter the house of Our Lady.”
The woman burst inside but two heavyset monks quickly restrained her. When the party entered, the abbot closed it again before pointing to the rifles.
“You will not need those here I assure you.”
The woman struggled as the monks dragged her away.
The abbot looked on sadly and said, “You can clearly see that her mind is gone.”
“Where are you taking her?” Mandy asked.
“Just to one of our chambers. She will not be hurt. Please follow me.”
They crossed a small stone courtyard and entered the building itself. The first room was sparsely furnished with just a central table and a few chairs dotted around it.
The walls looked old and thick as the abbot asked, “Would you like some refreshment?”
“I could do with a wine,” Cheryl admitted.
The abbot clapped his hands and when a monk entered issued a short instruction. Moments later the monk appeared carrying a large carafe covered in animal hide and three glasses.
“This dates back to the seventeenth century,” the abbot explained.
When the wine was poured, the abbot explained.
“None of us partake of course. Our Lady demands obedience. We have water, bread, and cake only.”
“Sounds like a rum diet,” Mandy said taking a sip.
“Prayer keeps us going you know.”
Conchello drank a mouthful and said something to the monk.
“No one is being killed here my friend,” he said in English. This woman has been here before you see. I believe she lost a son during the plague.”
“How many did you lose?” Cheryl asked.
“Only three succumbed here. We were lucky.”
“You certainly were,” Mandy commented.
They took another mouthful as the abbot continued to speak.
“We tend to keep ourselves cut off from mainstream society. It is not so important to us. As a matter of fact you are our first real visitors.”
Mandy yawned and said, “Thanks for allowing us inside.”
“You seem tired today,” the abbot muttered as his guests yawned together.
“Either the wine is strong or we have had too many late nights,” the cop muttered as her vision blurred.
The abbot smiled.
“We do make it ourselves. You probably are not used to it.”
Conchello muttered something before collapsing onto the stone floor.
“Something is horribly wrong,” Mandy muttered.
She tried to stand but severe giddiness caused her legs to buckle beneath her. Cheryl tried to focus on the abbot’s pleasant features before she too blacked out.
...
The abbot entered the cold stone chamber and saw the naked woman tied to a wooden post.
“You were warned about returning here.”
“I want my son back.”
He shook his head.
“That is not the will of Our Lady.”
“You call yourselves monks? Nothing of the sort!”
The abbot nodded and a monk took the leather strap from the wall.
“Teach her a lesson that will never be forgotten.”
He watched as the monk raised his arm and struck hard. The woman screamed as a red weal appeared across her shoulders. The second stroke struck across her buttocks, whilst the third slashed the legs.
The abbot raised his arm a moment.
“We could stop here.”
The crying woman shook her head defiantly.
The abbot nodded and the strap struck the buttocks twice more actually drawing blood. The woman screamed but the thick walls kept her agony from the outside world.
The slash struck the shoulder blades once more and the victim blacked out.
“Toss water over her before resuming.”
“How many abbot?”
He thought for a moment.
“Six more shall suffice. Then leave her for a time. I need to check upon our guests.”
...
Cheryl came too suddenly and saw Mandy and Conchello staring at her.
“We are in some kind of dungeon,” Mandy said as she sat up.
“So that woman was right all along and we have walked into a trap.”
“Seems like it,” Mandy said helping her up.
Conchello went to the thick door and thumped hard and loud.
“That looks too thick my friend,” Cheryl said looking around.
“What do you think is really going on?”
Cheryl gazed at her.
“If you join the dots that woman’s son is being held here and for some reason is due to be killed shortly.”
“Like a sacrifice?” Mandy asked.
“Perhaps. Though for what purpose I really don’t know.”
A slot was drawn back, and the abbot’s voice drifted in.
“I see that you are awake now.”
“Let us out!” Mandy demanded.
“I cannot do that you see. We must protect ourselves at all costs.”
“Where is the woman?” the cop demanded.
“Being punished for bringing you here.”
“Her son is not quite dead is he?” Cheryl asked.
“He is still with us until dawn.”
The women glanced at each other.
“What are you scumbags up to?” Mandy asked.
“Our Lady kept us safe during the recent tribulation. We are simply thanking her.”
“By killing a child?”
“Sacrifice is an ancient duty sadly neglected these days. We took a decision to carry out only one.”
“You’ll have to silence us to get away with it,” Cheryl reminded him.
“We will keep you alive and after chastisement you may come around to our way of thinking.”
“I very much doubt that.” Mandy hissed.
The slot was closed, and they heard retreating footsteps.
“We have to get out of here now,” Cheryl suggested.
“I don’t think that will be easy,” Mandy said. “This place was built to last.”
Cheryl shook her head and started examining the thick but ancient walls.
“This is no time to admire the brickwork!”
“As beautiful as it is I’m really not doing that. Now put your ear against that door and listen for him returning.”
Mandy rolled her eyes and did as asked. When Conchello muttered something, she just nodded.
“I don’t know either mate.”
The woman was awake once more as the abbot returned.
“Our guests are settling in nicely.”
He saw the deep cut marks upon her body as he stepped forward.
“A simple submission will end all this.”
“Go to blazes. My god is stronger than yours.”
The abbot did not understand this line of argument of course. As far as he was concerned, they were both on the same side.
“You would choose this to freedom?”
“Only if freedom meant seeing my son again.”
The abbot mulled this over. Turning to the monk, he said something. The abbot was soon left alone with the prisoner.
“You should be honoured that he has been chosen.”
“Honoured? How dare you!”
“We must thank Our Lady for the deliverance.”
“You have sold your souls for thirty pieces of silver!” she spat.
“Sad that your faith is not as strong as my own. If we were doing wrong, my brethren would have stopped your punishment.”
“They are too much in your sway abbot,”
He shook his head as a fifteen-year-old boy was brought into the cell.
“Mamma!”
“Let him go.”
The boy ran to the punishment post as his mother wept.
“We should leave them together for a little while. Dawn is approaching and we must make ready.”
The fatal sunrise was indeed only two hours off, and the abbot led the way back to the central courtyard.
“Bring byre and rope and arrange it into a stack.”
The monk nodded and left hurriedly as the abbot smiled.
“Our Lord has always appreciated burnt offerings.”
...
Within the dungeon Cheryl was scraping at the time worn soft mortar and had made quite an impact.
“It shouldn’t be long now. If I can just remove these four bricks.”
“What good will that do?” Mandy asked. “This place is bound to be underground.”
“I’m banking on it being at ground level my dear. Otherwise we are stuffed.”
She carefully removed the bricks and saw a wall of loose earth.
“Told you so!”
Cheryl shook her head and began digging frantically, as a soft breeze was felt upon her cheek.
“Nearly there.”
As the last of the dirt was pulled down, she saw the exterior twilight.
“It’s damn near dawn,” Cheryl muttered. “Let’s make a break for it.”
She crawled out as her friends followed. Once outside they stood against the wall glancing around.
“No one about,” Mandy whispered.
“I wonder if our guns are still by the front exit. Now move!”
They dashed over and were relieved to see the hunting rifles waiting for them.
“We can’t just leave her,” Mandy muttered.
“You should know me better than that,” Cheryl said leading the way back.
When they burst through the abbot's door, he was a little shocked to say the least.
“On your feet!” the cop demanded.
“That will do you no good,” he said calmly.
“We saw the stack mate,” Mandy hissed. “There will be no burning at dawn here!”
Cheryl shoved him toward the door.
“Now take us to her!”
As they entered the front hall, a monk suddenly appeared from a corridor. Many gunned him down as the abbot protested.
“Shut it!” Cheryl warned. “Now which way?”
He led them into a corridor and down a short staircase, before reaching the cell. When the women saw the state of her Mandy slapped the abbot hard.
The child was still there, clinging onto the body of his late parent.
“You murdering swine!” Cheryl hissed as Mandy checked out the manacles.
“I can loosen these. Just watch the door.”
As Cheryl went on guard duty, Mandy loosened the wrist bolts and the corpse fell to the ground. As the son wept, Conchello led him to the door.
A curious monk appeared, and a well-placed chest shot took him down.
“Hurry up will you!” Cheryl hissed.
“What do you want doing with him?”
Cheryl turned to the abbot and pushed him forward at gunpoint.
“Manacle him up and then we shall clear house.”
Once he was secure, Mandy tore his cowl and handed Conchello the strap. Raising ten fingers, she indicated twenty strokes.
The abbot screamed as the strokes struck home. By the fourth blood started to flow and by the ninth he was out cold. Conchello continued until it was done, not bothering to see if the abbot was still breathing when he left.
Within the corridor, a group of monks appeared to block their exit.
Cheryl raised the muzzle and prepared to open fire. As they fled, the party rushed to the outside world. The car was still waiting with the keys and they tossed the young lad into the rear before making an escape.
“Leaving them there was a mistake,” Mandy said bitterly. “They will simply do this again.”
“We’ll take the lad into Havana, and allow him to explain what happened to the emergency committee. I’m sure they will do the appropriate thing.”
After a four-hour drive, they dropped the child off at the central police station before swinging the car around and heading back toward the country road where it had been parked.
They decided to leave it there before making their way on foot toward the waiting farm.
“We all need a good sleep after this lot,” Cheryl muttered.
“Separate rooms then?”
Cheryl smiled.
“Why not?”
After closing the curtains, the cop stripped and lay beneath the light sheets as the world twittered beyond the window. She yawned loudly and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to a rather unusual dream...To be continued...
 

Miguel had watched as people died by the hundreds. Like many others, he was plagued by guilt for surviving what he thought was the end of everything.

During his early life, religion had been a comfort but today, those thoughts had long gone.

He lived beyond the town, within a caravan that was bare fit of food or other essentials. As he gazed around after a week of terrible hunger, he knew that only one option remained.

“There must be others like me,” he hissed. “I just can’t sit here and starve to death.”

He ventured outside for the first time in a week, gazing at the surrounding wilds of the countryside.

“Let’s go and find something.”

He closed the caravan door and lurched into the undergrowth, scanning wildly for rabbits, snakes or anything that moved. He stopped when he saw the birds within the trees.

“How do I get them?”

He reached the trunk and saw the high branches.

“I’ll never climb that.”

He cursed and moved further from his home, vanishing into bushes that covered this side of the hills.

A sound of laughter brought him to an immediate halt.

“Am I dreaming?”

He crouched down and gazed toward the small stream. Two young kids not more than fourteen were splashing around in the clear water.

“Lucky devils,” he hissed.

He watched them at play, just two young boys having a great time in the midst of global tragedy.

He stared at them, his stomach rumbling loudly.

“I’ve no choice mate,” he reasoned with himself. “I won’t last much longer with any sustenance.”

He crept forward toward the stream and saw the scattered clothes.

“I need to do this pretty quickly.”

As the kids threw water at each other, he rushed from the bush screaming like an animal. The two boys turned as he threw himself at them. The first was grabbed by the hair and pushed under, while the second was struck savagely in the jaw.

The blow knocked the lad out but his friend tried fighting back. Miguel dragged the lad to the bank and throttled him, before wading back in and dragging out his friend. A cursory exam confirmed that he had drowned.

“I certainly won’t starve now,” he muttered.

He carried each body back to his caravan before laying it down carefully. As he stood rubbing his bearded chin, his mind began working out the next step.

“I think that I have what I need.”

He entered the van and searched through his meagre belongings.
Within a small box, he found the saw and carried it outside.

“Now just a little trimming may help.”

He gritted his teeth and knelt by the first corpse. Placing the blade across the weak throat, he began sawing slowly. As the blood flowed, he tried ignoring it, his mind finding solitude in pleasant thoughts.

Removing the head did not take too long and he tossed it off into the long grass. He scratched his head and tended to the abdomen. The blade opened it up quickly and he dragged out the viscera of the intestines carefully.

He carried them to a bucket where he carefully washed the useless material before cutting them into small sausages. He returned to the corpse and locating the kidneys, began to remove them with the saw blade.

Taking them to the bucket, he washed carefully before dicing the bloody meat. Taking chunks into his palm, he stuffed the intestinal sausages before placing these into another pot.

Turning the camp cooker on took moments and he watched as the meal heated up.

His attention turned to the chest area and he opened it up easily enough. However, the blade refused to split the rib cage and he gave up soon after.

The meat was boiling nicely as the saw cut through the thighs before removing the lower foot. The muscles were pliable and would make a more substantial meal later.

Miguel removed the pot from the flame and removed his sausages slowly before placing them upon a plastic plate. As he ate slowly, he hissed and gasped with pleasure.

“No one should miss those blighters,” he muttered as the meal continued.

When he was finished, he continued butchering the bodies until he had a pretty good supply that would last at least a few days.

“I’ll have to eat it quickly,” he reasoned. “This damn heat will turn it in no time.”

He placed the thigh meat and the liver into the pot before stirring slowly.

“What this lacks is salt.”

He found that inside his van and sprinkled it liberally into the mix. The actual cooking took about forty minutes and when it was done, he settled down to allow it to cool.

Disposing of the dismembered but inedible bits was easy enough. He tossed the second head into the tall grass while burying the remainder at the rear of the van.

He rubbed his palms vigorously, his wild eyes watching the meal to come.
...
The women had reached the outskirts of Matanzas, the coastal town they had washed up near too.

“Seems pretty quiet here,” Cheryl noted.

“We should find ourselves a store and bring the flour back,” Mandy reminded her.

“It’s weapons we need. I feel so ruddy naked without at least a hand gun.”

Mandy shook her head.

“You won’t find any here my dear. An army base will be well stocked. Not today though.”

They had reached the high street and stood gazing at a clothes store.

“Come on,” Cheryl suggested. “We need a new supply.”

The door was unlocked and the stock remained untouched. As they checked through the denim jackets and jeans, a lone youth wandered past.

“What do you think?” Cheryl asked.

Mandy smiled.

“Good choice.”

Cheryl was about to place the clothes inside a bag when she spotted the youth.

“Hang on a moment.”

She dashed out and said, “Hello there.”

The youth backed away in obvious fear.

“We are not a threat,” Cheryl said slowly. “Would you like to join us?”

The tall lad was only seventeen and his dusty clothes suggested rough living.

“I’m Cheryl.”

The language barrier was proving a problem and the lad rolled his eyes.

“Come inside?” she tried.

The youth smiled and followed her back into the store.

“Look who I found.”

Mandy had finished the selection and smiled at their new companion.

“He would be useful on the farm. Does he speak English?”

Cheryl shook her head and said, “I’ll try and find a phrase book. I think we have everything we need now.”

The youth offered to carry the bags as they reached the traffic lights. At the left stood a travel store, and they found the phrase book easily enough.

“Now let me see,” Cheryl said slowly. “Ah...You come with us?”

The lad nodded and replied in his native tongue. The women looked at each other blankly and giggled.

A little further on stood the food store and they managed to locate the flour. Another bag was borrowed and quickly filled with tin meat and vegetables.

Once it became rather heavy to carry the shopping trip ended.

“Perhaps a car would help?” Mandy suggested.

Cheryl was doubtful about that.

“At present we only know the path toward the farm. If we follow the roads we are liable to get lost.”

“A map then.”

“Later eh. We can soon have this treasure trove back. Let’s go eh?”

The return was a little slower but after an hour, it was obvious that they were lost.

“Do you remember that line of bushes?” Mandy asked.

Cheryl shook her head.

“We must be over to the left somewhere. We dare not get caught after dark.”

A sudden voice brought them to a halt.

“This is my land.”

A wild looking man suddenly appeared from the bushes, and the hunting rifle looked real enough.

“You speak English then,” the cop commented.

“Emigrated fifteen years ago,” Miguel replied. “What are you doing here?”

Mandy blushed.

“Would you believe lost?”

Miguel smiled.

“It’s too easy around here to find yourself lost ladies. I know these parts. Where were you trying to reach?”

He looked trustworthy and the women gave a description of the farm.

“That was the Rose farm once. It’s about two miles that way,” he said pointing.

“Thanks for the tip mate,” Mandy said.

They turned to the left and began the hike home as Miguel watched with mounting interest.

“There goes another meal.”
...
By the time they returned to the farm, they knew his name. A rather fitting one for such a youthful lad.

“If Conchello would like to follow me,” Mandy said pointing to the rear door.

The youth followed as Mandy collected a plastic bucket.

“Where are you two off to?”

“Just to milk the cow dear. Shouldn’t take too long.”

When they reached the field, she pointed.

“You watch.”

He seemed to understand that as she arranged the milking stool that he carried.

She gripped the udders tightly and began the squeeze, stroke technique that produced the desired result. After a moment, she stepped aside.

“Your turn now.”

The lad sat and carefully applied the pressure. As the milk squirted into the bucket, Mandy smiled happily.

“Not as difficult as it looks eh?”

The lad did not understand but continued squirting anyway.

As the bucket reached half full, she tapped his arm.

“You can stop now.”

He stood and carried it back as she lifted the stool. They found that Cheryl had changed into her denims and was thinking hard.

“You seem hard at it,” Mandy muttered.

“Just wondering if there are any wild strawberries around.”

“Why not go look? Cuba is famous for them.”

Cheryl smiled and left for the wilds. As she stepped out Mandy shouted, “Just don’t get lost.”

Conchello meantime was pointing to himself and gesticulating. As Mandy watched, she quickly realised what he meant.

“You want to wash. Follow me then.”

She found the water closet and pointed to the old metal shower.

“You can use that my friend. We have an aquifer here. No need for the mains.”

She left him too it as her friend walked among the trees, bushes and lovely plants.

“Such a gorgeous place here. No sign of the strawberries though.”

She walked through the wilds, keeping an eye on her route. Cheryl had no intention of getting lost a second time.

“Now this looks familiar.”

Ahead lay a line of bushes, and she wandered up. As she pushed through, her foot hit something hard.

“What the devil?”

She looked down and almost jumped.

“That’s a head.”

She gazed around and soon located a second. Being a cop of course, the ragged skin around the neck was obviously not animal wounds.

“Saw marks my girl. Someone did this deliberately.”

She crouched down to take a closer look when a sinister voice called out, “Sorry you had to see that.”

Cheryl stood and saw Miguel holding the gun.

“You did this?”

“I have to eat you know. Now move it!”

She watched the barrel as he marched her back to the van. As she passed the pot, the sickening contents were all too obvious.

“You crazy fool,” she muttered.

“You are the crazy one lass. Coming out here on your own.”

He prodded her inside and at the rear ordered her to sit.

“What do you intend doing with me?”

He smiled and licked his full lips.

“You can only guess. Now stay put.”

He turned and found a length of rope that he tossed at her.

“Now tie your legs to the bed.”

She decided to comply for the present, and was soon trussed up.
Miguel then took a cloth and used this to manacle the hands behind her back.

“We just need a gag now.”

He hunted around and soon found another piece of cloth that he stuffed into her mouth.

“There we are. Nice and quiet at last.”

He placed the weapon against the window and sat in front of his next meal.

“You are probably wondering why? As I pointed out I do have to eat my dear.”

He paused.

“If I could farm or catch animals that would be different I suppose.
I went without food for a whole week you see. Then the kids went dipping and so here we all are.”

She grimaced despite the gag.

“You may judge me if you like but it won’t matter. I guess you will provide some handsome cuts.”

He smiled and taking the weapon, popped outside once more.
...
Mandy had noted the passage of time upon the wall clock, and was getting rather worried for her friend.

“Over two hours have passed. Where could she have got to?”

As these thoughts passed through her mind, a call came from the water closet.

“He probably needs a bath towel.”

She found one inside the kitchen cupboard and took it through. As she entered, the youth covered himself with his hands and blushed profusely.

“I’m a nurse by the way. Dry yourself with this.”

She stepped out as Conchello dried himself and waited in the lounge with the phrase book. When he returned, she said carefully, “We have to find Cheryl now.”

He understood the Spanish of course and nodded. When they got outside, she gazed around.

“Problem is how the hell do we find her?”

Conchello must have felt her predicament for he started gazing at the ground. As he moved off, she followed.

“Proper little bloodhound,” she commented.

As she followed, Mandy noted the crushed undergrowth that the youth was tracking. They climbed into the hills and he turned right toward a line of thick bushes.

“I hope this won’t take too long,” Mandy muttered.

When they reached the bushes, the youth suddenly crouched down and pointed to the caravan.

When Mandy looked, she saw Cheryl at the rear window with a gag in her mouth.

“Damn it!”

The youth said, “Shush.”

“We have to free her,” Mandy whispered pointing at the van.

Conchello smiled and crept forward. When he was sure there was nobody around, he dashed for the door. Mandy caught up as he climbed inside.

“Thanks’,” the cop said after the gag was removed. “That bloke’s a nutter.”

“The one we met earlier?” Mandy asked.
Cheryl nodded.

“He ruddy well ate two kids. I found their severed heads.”

“We have to get you out of here,” Mandy said as the knots were removed.

The cop shook her head.

“We have to deal with him before he strikes again. Come on now.”

Mandy followed her outside and saw her gazing beneath the van.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something to crown him with.”

She pulled a crowbar from beneath the van and handled it carefully.

“This should do nicely.”

They returned to the van and waited with baited breath. Just before sunset, the killer returned with his weapon. He seemed a happy soul as he whistled away to himself.

“Hit him as soon as he opens the door,” Mandy whispered.

The man stopped a moment to stir his supper before reaching out for the handle. As he pushed it open, Cheryl sprang forward and smashed the bar over his unprotected head.

Miguel went down quickly and she jumped off the top step. As he writhed upon the ground in agony, the cop raised the bar and crushed his skull into a bloody paste.

“I think he’s dead,” Mandy whispered as the bar smashed down for the sixth time.

Cheryl nodded and grabbed the rifle.

“Check out the van for shells and then we will fire it.”

Miguel had three boxfuls and after these were removed, the van was doused in petrol before being set alight. They watched it burn before setting off for their new home.
...
“I think we need to talk about bedding arrangements,” Mandy said after their meal.

“I removed the couple’s remains this morning so Conchello should be safe enough.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Mandy whispered.

“You want a sex slave?”

“Why not? We could take turns.”

Cheryl blushed.

“Well I suppose you are right. You want to go first?”

Mandy nodded and took the youth’s hand.

“Come on lad and let me teach you about the birds and the bees.”

They used their fingers to dig the awful hole. When it was deep enough, they laid the kids to rest before replacing the sand carefully. After adding some water, they managed to pat it flat.

Cheryl gazed over at the waiting town and pointed to a path.

“That should lead inland. If any farm exists, it should be in that direction.”

Mandy followed wearily as they trudged off the beach and into the wild interior. They ignored the quaint town to their right as the land rose sharply ahead of them. They took great care in avoiding the loose rocks as the path flattened out again.

After a mile or so, they came to an open metal gate and wandered inside.

“This looks promising,” Cheryl said as they closed the gate behind them. They could see that the land had been fenced off ages ago due to the heavy rust.

“Probably dates back to imperial times,” Mandy suggested as they spotted a quaint white washed farmhouse.

“They better not have dogs,” Cheryl muttered. “We lost our weapons.”

Thankfully for them, the home seemed deserted. When they entered the rustic kitchen, Mandy called out.

“Anyone here?”

There was no reply so they entered the short hall and started climbing the stairs.

Within the first bedroom lay the remains of an elderly couple. The next room was habitable enough for them.

“Let’s see what the lounge holds,” Cheryl suggested.

The living area was quite well decked out. A thick carpet covered a stone floor, and the furniture was fairly modern but rather moth eaten.

“We better look a little further,” Mandy suggested.

After opening the rear door, they stepped onto a dirt yard. At the nearside lay a chicken coop and the sound of healthy birds was almost too much to bear. A small shed stood to one side and this was filled with bags of feed.

At the left stood the pigsty where four large pigs played in the mud.

“This looks really well managed,” Mandy commented. “That couple could not have perished that long ago.”

At the top end of the yard stood a fully stocked hayloft, and beyond that a small field. Sheep, cattle, and a happy cow grazed upon the lush grass, which was safely fenced in.

“So we have meat, eggs and milk then,” Cheryl said softly.

“We’ll have to find flour to make bread but that won’t be a problem.
The town should have plenty.”

Cheryl suddenly coloured up.

“I’ve never actually milked one you know.”

Mandy laughed.

“That is not the problem my dear.”

“We have a problem?” Cheryl asked.

Mandy pointed to the nearby stream.

“We can get water from there,” the cop pointed out.

“I wonder how far it floods in the autumn though.”

Cheryl cuddled her.

“After what we have been through my dear, flash floods are the least of our worries.”

Mandy shook her head.

“We both need a proper rest eh? This lot can wait till the morning.”

They returned to the farmhouse arm in arm as the chickens clucked in contentment.
...
Cruising at a depth of two hundred, the USS Virginia lay a hundred miles west of Midway. Wilma sat within her cabin reading the latest reports from Pacific Command.

“How bad is it?” Vanderhofen asked casually.

“Our population centres took a bad hit but the farming communities seem to have escaped much loss.”

“That’s a good sign then.”

“The military stands at sixty five percent loss though, and we have
lost touch with the CDC.”

“You could send a unit over to check it out.”

The president grinned.

“Already done that captain. How are things here?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Crew seem a bit down. That is to be expected and sonar reports contact fifteen points from our bow.”

“A sub?”

“No mam. He reckons it’s a large liner.”

Wilma put down the report and followed him to the command area.

“Take us to periscope depth helmsmen.”

When it was reached, she peered into the viewer.

“It’s a liner and Japanese too by the looks of it. Seems to be
drifting.”

“What do you want to do mam?”

She thought it over.

“Take a small team captain and dress them in the NBC suits for protection. Check out the ship for survivors.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“We couldn’t cope with civilians aboard mam.”

She shook her head.

“If you find any put them into lifeboats and we will tow them to
safety.”

As he carried out the order, the sub broke surface once more.

Wilma watched as the hatches opened and the team trooped on deck.
Once the dingy was launched, the team rowed toward the huge stricken vessel.

“Nearly there sir.”

“Ready the grappling hooks. We’ll damn well climb on board.”

When these were thrown and secured, the dinghy was attached and the suited four-man team climbed up the slippery keel until they reached the safety rail. As they looked, only clothes and burnt out bodies could be seen.

“Never mind those,” Vanderhofen muttered. “We need to reach the bridge.”

Even though the suits were clumsy, reaching the bridge was no problem, but no living person was to be seen.

“I want the power restored now,” Vanderhofen ordered.

He watched the team examine the controls before pressing emergency buttons. Vanderhofen smiled when the console came to life. He walked to the intercom and said smartly, “Any survivors please report to the boat deck at once. We are the US Navy.”

He glanced around at his team.

“Nogoya...Say that in Japanese please.”

The happy officer repeated the message, and they trooped toward the
boat deck for the expected response.

“You think people may still be alive sir?”

“Nogoya, I really do hope so.”

Vanderhofen watched the rolling waves and started counting. This was an old trick for counting the passage of time and he was well versed in such things.

“Well,” he said at last. “That’s ten minutes gone and still no one around.”

“Why not go below sir?” Nogoya asked.

“It would take far too long and expose us to a greater risk of exposure mate. We wait here until an hour is up.”

After half an hour, two women suddenly scrambled into view.

“What took you so long?” Vanderhofen asked.

“Our friend refuses to come sir. Perhaps you can persuade her?”

“Take care of her. You tell me where your friend is.”

“Deck D sir.”

“You better show me the way. Take her to one of the boats and wait there.”

He followed her into the silent bowls of the once living liner until they reached the cabin. A short bloke lay in bed with a rasp as he breathed.

“You never told me that he was ill.”

“Would you have come if I had?”

Vanderhofen shook his head and moved closer. He gasped when he saw the livid red blotches.

“There is nothing that can be done I’m afraid.”

“You’re not going to leave him surely?”

“We have no choice mam. Now come with me.”

She stepped away and drew out a thick blade.

“You will take him.”

Vanderhofen stared at the knife and nodded.

“Just allow me to check his temperature.”

He bent over the sick man and grasped the pillow. Then rapidly pulling he turned and whacked the woman hard. As the blade went flying, he pounced.

“Now listen to me!” he yelled. “We are leaving now.”

He put her in an arm lock and marched her back to the deck.

“Take care of her, but if she resists toss them both overboard.”

The shocked submariner obeyed the order and took her to the waiting lifeboat.

“We have to leave,” the captain said. “There is no one left here.”

Returning to the lifeboat, he poked his head inside the orange cover.

“We’ll launch you now so prepare for the shock.”

Before they had a chance to protest, he punched the button hard. The davit was automatic, and the raft was swung out and lowered to within twenty feet before being released.

When it hit the ocean, the captain led his men back to their waiting dinghy.

Coming alongside the sub he shouted with visor up, “We need dowsing mam.”

Wilma nodded and hit the com.

“Fire team to the deck. We need a hose.”

They arrived promptly and thoroughly soaked the suited team. As the
captain came aboard, he looked worried.

“They were caring for a sick friend mam. We dare not return them to
Midway.”

Wilma’s face fell.

“We cannot just abandon them captain.”

“That’s the burden of command mam. We need something much harsher today.”

She well understood the meaning.

“All hands prepare to dive. Take us to periscope depth.”

When the sub vanished, Wilma gazed through the viewer at the defenceless boat.

“Load tube one.”

Moments passed as she lined the bow up. Then a hand fell upon her trembling shoulder.

“Allow me mam.”

When she stepped back, the captain gave the order.

As the orange raft vanished in a searing flash of heat, he turned to the president.

“What about the liner mam?”

“Take her down captain.”

Vanderhofen nodded sadly.

“Prepare tubes two through four.”

When these were ready, he said softly, “Fire two through four.”

He watched through the viewer as the liner detonated with the powerful warheads. The ship broke in two almost at once before slipping beneath the boiling surface.

As he ordered a deeper dive, Wilma put her hand to her mouth and muttered, “I think I am going to be sick.”

Everyone watched as she dashed for the cabin to protect her dignity.
...
Governor O’Malley had been lucky to survive. Despite his emergency team being located beneath governor’s house in Washington DC, a coughing team member had spread the virus to all and sundry.

Now he stood with the first infantry corps outside a smashed and looted food store.

“We found these two inside sir.”

“You know the sentence for looting.”

“We ran out of food and water. What do you expect us to do? Die I suppose.”

The governor ignored the plea in these desperate times.

“By the power invested in me by the state of emergency, I sentence you both to death.”

As the looters were hauled towards the wall, they howled.

The governor stood resolute as the criminals were tied to posts, and the troopers took up position.

“Fire when ready captain.”

The officer saluted as the squad knelt and took aim.

Moments later, they went limp as the bullets struck home.

“I hope that is the last today,” the governor sighed.

“You want to return sir?”

The governor nodded.

An APC soon appeared and the master of the capitol ventured inside.
As the vehicle moved toward the deserted White House, bullets ricochet off the thick armoured plating.

“No worries sir,” the corporal reported. “These beasts can take light tank shells.”

The governor smiled at the idea of tank shells being fired within the heart of the US. When he was safely delivered to the Oval Office, he gazed around at the emptiness.

“I should have been president,” he moaned. “Not that damn woman.”

An advisor walked inside.

“Sorry sir but the visitors are here.”

The governor cheered up.

“Just send them in.”

He sat back relaxed as the women entered.

“Afternoon governor,” the taller said.

Governor O’Malley nodded.

“Glad to see you both.”

The women approached the famous desk and whispered, “What would you like today sir?”

The governor laughed.

“A little cheering up, after the harsh things that I’ve been forced to do.”

“We can help there,” the shorter said.

“That would be a thousand bucks,” the taller said calmly.

“What is the use of money today?” O’Malley asked.

“We are looking forward to the future sir,” the shorter woman replied.

The governor sighed deeply.

“A thousand bucks for what?”

The taller woman glanced at her companion and whispered, “Anything that you want sir.”

Ta..Finished Ep 12 today...A wee bit later, 200 odd episodes will appear...Watch out for it..Already written...

Ta..A little light hearted comedy for a change..Strange for me...

It was morning when the barking was heard. The kids were mucking out as the two women worked on the problem of rabbit snaring.

“Are you absolutely sure that this will work Mandy?”

“Of course Cheryl. My pa taught me as a kid. You anchor one end to a root and place the noose along their runs you see. With fish off our menu we need a replacement.”

Cheryl shook her head.

“I don’t think it will work but you may as well have a go I suppose.”

When it was ready, they walked to the southern end of the farm and quickly attached the trap where the slippy bunnies would never notice. As they turned the barking became quite audible.

“It can’t be that pack,” Cheryl commented.

“You think they would have gone elsewhere. Come on, we have to get the kids.”

They rushed back and brought the children indoors before working on their options.

“What we need is pork and rat poison,” Cheryl suggested.

“I’ll make it up then,” Mandy muttered.

Once the bait was readied, they dashed to the top field and placed the bait in an open space.

“They are homing in,” the cop said.

“We need to wait this out then,” Mandy replied.

Once more safe and sound, they stood by the shattered windows with the M3’s at the ready.

“Do you think they will go for the bait then?”

“Of course they will,” Mandy said. “They should smell it for miles.”

The two kids waited by the stairs as the adults peered toward the yard. A sudden barking and flurry of movement caught their attention at once.

“Ruddy hell!” Cheryl exclaimed.

“Into your room kids,” Mandy said.

As they locked the door, the women opened up. One of the attacking pack went down, as the rest scattered.

“This time we are wide open,” Mandy observed.

“Let’s hope the blighters are not so smart then,” the cop replied.

A scraping from the rear told them otherwise.

“That’s all we need,” the cop hissed. “Stay here.”

She dashed into the kitchen, just as a dog leapt through the vacant window. She gave it a short burst and fell back, closing the door.

“I took out one but...”

A second animal leapt at the front and as Mandy fired, its friends raced toward the aperture.

“Upstairs now!” the cop shouted bolting for the stairs.

As they reached the kids bedroom they hammered loudly.

“Let us in right now!” the cop shouted.

The door was rapidly unbolted and they dashed inside as the pack reached the staircase.

“The buggers got in,” Mandy hissed.

“I’m really sure they cannot breach this door,” the cop replied.

“So we are trapped,” Mandy said softly.

The cop dashed to the window and gazed down.

“No point going that way. We shall have to wait this out.”

“They could be here for days,” Mandy said.

“Let’s hope not eh? Eventually they will get hungry and move away.”

A sharp clawing came from the landing as the hungry pack tried to gain entry.

“After this debacle,” Mandy said. “We are leaving for safer climes.”

Cheryl put her ear against the wood and listened.

“They appear to be resting now. We have a siege in operation. Don’t worry though. We can out starve these mutts.”

The hours passed but the pack did not seem that interested in moving.

“This is getting quite ridiculous,” Cheryl moaned.

Mandy produced the keys to the camper.

“I wonder if one of us can get to the vehicle without ending up as lunch?”

Cheryl smiled.

“I reckon that I could shin down the pipe. Then lead the dogs to the meat.”

As she took the keys Mandy said, “Good luck.”

Cheryl hung the weapon over a shoulder and climbed outside. She gripped the pipe tightly and slowly made it down to ground level. She ran to the corner and noted that the coast was clear.

“Now just run for it girl.”

She dashed across the entrance and leapt into the cab. When the engine was gunned, the pack charged downstairs in hot pursuit.

Cheryl smiled ruefully.

“Follow me boys.”

She drove slowly south toward the waiting pork and as she reached the location, the pack smelt the scent and ran to investigate. The cop watched them devour the meal and waited for it to take effect.

The killers were dead within the hour and she trundled back to the front door. She hooted the horn and waited.

“Collect our weapons,” Cheryl said as Mandy arrived with the kids.

As the last of these were loaded Mundy asked, “Where are we going now?”

Cheryl smiled.

“Why not Cuba? After all, that was my original idea.”

The trip south was without incident. After filling up at Pittsburgh, they rolled in front of the hotel at Raleigh for the overnight rest.

“The place looks untouched,” Mandy commented.

“It certainly does. Everyone upstairs. We have an early start in the morning.”

The adults found the dawn start quite easy, but the kids still yawned as the camper trundled off. The day had started off hot and sultry, but as they approached Savannah Georgia, the heavens opened up.

Huge droplets quickly made driving extremely hazardous and as they rounded the last corner, Cheryl was struggling to see properly.

“It must be a ruddy Atlantic storm. If it gets much heavier we will have to stop.”

As Mandy peered ahead, a roadblock suddenly came into view.

“Hit the brakes!”

Cheryl did so automatically but the camper slewed sideways and struck something hard.

“Everyone okay?” Mandy asked.

The kids picked themselves from the floor and nodded.

“Stay here,” Cheryl advised grabbing the M3.

She stepped out into the storm and saw the line of cars used to
block the road. A group of men in rain gear were dashing toward her.

“Stay right there,” she warned.

The men stopped and one hollered.

“We don’t welcome visitor’s lady.”

“Just trying to reach Miami that’s all. This is the only route we can take.”

“Strange place to be heading,” the taller gent replied.”

“Off to do some gambling are we?” a short bloke asked.

“That would be rather daft,” Cheryl pointed out.

“How many in the van,” the taller asked.

“One adult and two kids. We are heavily armed.”

The blokes grinned.

“I bet you are. Any disease?”

Cheryl shook her head madly and said, “We would be dead right?”

“You can come through but we keep the camper.”

“No deal.”

The taller walked forward menacingly.

“Look lady. We have rules here. If you enter, we take the transport and the weapons. It helps to build up our stock.”

“There must be thousands of cars here,” she said. “Concentrate on those.”

“You heard our rules,” the short bloke warned. “Take it or leave it.”

Cheryl dashed back to the cab and climbed in.

“What was that all about?” Mandy asked.

“They want everything. Some kind of militia group.”

“We daren’t get trapped here,” Mandy commented. “So what are we going to do about it?”

Cheryl thought for a moment and came to a decision.

“We head for Albany.”

She backed up and swung the camper around before returning to a junction. She swung right and floored the pedal. The storm soon passed and the sultry weather returned. By mid afternoon, the camper reached the silent town.

They slowed and dodged past the rusting vehicles with their deceased occupants. At the central junction, they turned left and took the south road toward Tampa.

The sun had set when they arrived and Cheryl slowed right down.

“We need to find a place to bed down,” she muttered.

From the rear Leslie called out, “That looks okay.”

Cheryl looked and spotted the line of chalets, and what appeared to be a central office. She parked up and wandered into the darkened interior.

“Anyone home?”

When she was greeted by silence, she walked behind the desk and gazed at the keys.

“Forty-four has always been my lucky number.”

She took them and found the right door quite easily. As she entered, the party joined her.

“I’ll fetch the food and weapons.”

Cheryl walked to the vehicle as the kids checked the small chalet out. It had a single bedroom and a very tiny kitchen area. When they checked the cupboards, they only found rats.

The main room was comfortably furnished and when the cop entered, they were waiting.

“Quite a good find this,” Mandy said.

“How is the bed?”

“We’ll have to squeeze in I’m afraid,” Mandy muttered.

Cheryl unpacked the food and as they ate the cold vegetables, she started to outline a plan.

“When we reach Miami I intend to find a police launch and use that for the sea trip. We should land near Matanzas then head into the uplands.”

“Sounds as though you want a farm,” Mandy said.

“You know how to run one. One thing I am sure off though. We should be far safer there.”

When the food was gone, they settled down to sleep but were quickly woken by the sound of trucks.

“What the hell?” Mandy called.

A loud thumping from the door was quickly followed by heavy boots smashing it open. Before the women could reach their weapons, a trooper stood in the doorway with his muzzle pointing straight at them.

“We seem to have a few civilians here then.”

“I’m a cop,” Cheryl protested stepping onto the floor. “Allow me to prove it.”

She reached into the pack and pulled out her id card. The trooper checked it out before handing it back.

“What’s going on?” Mandy asked.

“Third infantry corps are moving in mam. We have been moved from
Fort Lauderdale to create an armed perimeter.”

“We intend to reach Miami,” Cheryl informed him.

The trooper shook his head.

“That’s just not possible mam.”

The trooper escorted them outside where the senior officer was waiting.

“Found them in the chalet sir.”

Cheryl noted the three stars and waited.

“Staying overnight?”

“We are indeed sir,” the cop replied.

“They were trying to reach Miami sir. This one’s a cop.”

“Which division?” the general asked.

“Washington DC originally sir.”

The officer thought it over.

“We certainly need law enforcement to give us a hand. Our troops are helping with disposal of human remains.”

“In Miami?” Mandy asked.

“We have tens of thousands dead mam. Can you handle yourself?”

The women looked at each other.

“If necessary,” Mandy said.

“Rest up but in the morning report to southern command at Miami.
They’ll give you a detail.”

“What about the kids?” Cheryl asked with some concern.

“Refugee camp mam. They’ll be looked after.”

The officer strode off as the party returned to the chalet.

“You won’t just dump us?” Mundy asked.

“Of course not love,” Cheryl replied.

“We could return to the farm,” Mandy suggested.

Cheryl shook her head.

“That officer seems a roughneck to me. If we do turn back, his troops are just as liable to open fire. We continue south for the moment.”

At dawn, the camper moved off but the cop had no intention of following orders.

As they passed through St Petersburg, she headed for the west coastline.

“There should be small fishing communities,” Cheryl explained.

“How about the Everglades?” Mandy asked.

The cop raised her eyebrows.

“You really want to end up as croc meat?”

After three hours, they found a quiet cove with less than a dozen homes dotted along it. They reached the key and saw two fishing boats in harbour.

“I think that they will do nicely,” the cop grinned.

Before unloading the camper, Cheryl checked out the wheelhouse. When the party arrived, she took down a weird key and inserted it.

“Now if I press this...”

The panel lit up and she gazed at the fuel gauge.

“We only have enough to get there I’m afraid.”

“I don’t think we want to return anyway,” Mandy said.

“Okay, unload and then loosen the ropes eh.”

When everything was ready, Cheryl put the van key back inside its locker and stepped aboard the boat.

“Right kids. Next stop Cuba eh?”

When they reached the Florida Strait without incident, everything looked okay but dark clouds were rapidly gathering.

“We need to outrun this storm,” Mandy pointed out.

“I’m going as fast as this engine can take,” Cheryl muttered.

As the wind rose rapidly, the usually gentle sea became even rougher.
Cheryl held her course as they navigated the Cuban coastline to the south. The fishing boat heaved a little as waves started breaking over the side.

“I think we can turn landward shortly,” Cheryl said as another wave crashed over the bow.

“Just hold on kids,” Mandy said as the boat heaved again.

“I feel sick,” Mundy said.

“I don’t feel right either,” Leslie said.

Cheryl pulled the wheel around, trying to guide the boat toward the nearby coastline. As she did so, a monster wave rose from nowhere and smashed through the wheelhouse windscreen.

The strong force of the water floored everyone and the wheel spun wildly.

“We need to avoid the rocks!” Cheryl yelled trying to stand up.

A second wave smashed the north side and this time the vessel heeled onto its side. The kids crashed through the swinging door as the adults clung on.

“Mundy!” Mandy screamed as she saw them being sucked overboard.

The vessel lurched upright before a third wave struck the bow again. This time the wood splintered, and the wheelhouse suddenly became submerged.

Beneath the swirling sea, the women fought long and hard back to the tossing surface. The saw the vessel sink rapidly as Cheryl screamed out, “Mundy! Leslie!”

As the waves smashed over them, the women were driven toward the beach at a rapid rate of knots. They tried to fight it but exhaustion soon took over.

A series of waves finally tossed them onto the sand, where they lay quite insensible until dusk.

When awareness returned they sat up slowly and gazed around at the quiet gloom. The storm had gone now and bits of shattered wood lay upon the beach.

Mandy looked around as she stood until she spotted something.

“That may be them Cheryl.”

They ran along the shore until the bodies came into view. Still holding hands, revival was quite hopeless.

Cheryl fell to her knees and screamed, “Damn you all to hell!”

Mandy just stood, weeping bitterly at the tragic scene.