2/19th Barracks
2/19th Special Weapons Group Area
Secure Area
Alfenwehr, Western Germany
22 November, 1987
2100 Hours
Day 22 of Isolation
Day 0 of Sobriety

The window was black, the sun having set hours ago, but the wind still brushed snowflakes across it. It was so silent in the barracks I could hear them whisper against the inch thick glass, four layers of quarter inch thick tempered glass. Part of me knew it was in my head, but all the same, I could hear the malevolent whisper of the snowflakes.

let us in...

let in the dark...

let in the cold...

let us in...

The street would be buried by morning. Not that it would matter. I had hiked down to Dead Man's Corner during the day and found out that the entire road was just gone. I'd taken pictures of it, tucking the Polaroid pictures into my parka, then hiked all the way back. Then, to be sure, I'd photocopied the pictures, using the magnify feature on the big-ass copier down in the Orderly Room to blow up the pics.

The cliff went up for three hundred feet to a stone overhang, granite covered with ice and snow hanging out a good eight meters, and plunged down nearly two thousand feet.

No sign a road had ever existed.

When I'd gotten back I'd taken a hot shower for nearly an hour to get rid of the chill that had set into my bones then gone down to the weight room to work out on the weights and on the bags for a few hours to get the blood flowing.

My dinner was behind me, on my desk, uneaten.

I lit a cigarette, staring at my reflection in the darkness backed glass, then closed the curtain and turned away from the window. The room was warm, the radiator softly pinging, the polish on the furniture and the wax on the floor gleaming warmly in the soft light of the light bulb.

The lizard grumbled to itself and fitfully stirred at the base of my skull.

My fingers automatically sought out my eye patch, making sure it was covering my eye properly. The little lizard squirmed, I could physically feel it back there, then went back to sleep.

I reached out and turned on the stereo, letting Dream Weaver spin up on the CD player, then moved over and sat down at the desk. My dinner was beef stroganoff, green beans, and peach cobbler straight out of the T-Rats. It was cold and I sat there toying with it for a few moments before picking up the entire thing and going over to the microwave.

Sixty seconds. Stir everything. Sixty seconds. Stir. Let sit for sixty seconds.

I passed the time in between by doing pushups. My shoulder still made crunching noises with each push, the center of my thigh still felt like the bone was twisting, and my knee was full of ground glass, but I ignored the pain and pushed through it all.

When the timer went off for the last time I got up slowly, leaning against the microwave and breathing hard for a minute before getting my food and returning to the desk.

I ate slowly, methodically. Eating the stroganoff and green beans first, alternating bites. That finished, I ate the peach cobbler slowly, savoring each bite and slowly grinding it to liquid between my molars.

When I finished I used the bathroom sink to wash my dishes, returned my plate and silverware to on top of the microwave, and poured myself three fingers of Wild Turkey with Coke and a handful of ice.

Screw it, I thought to myself, lighting another cigarette. I grabbed the just emptied Coke can and put it at the edge of the desk.

Something was off.

I wasn't sure what. I'd searched the barracks repeatedly, walking the halls, checking the rooms, checking the doors and the sealed blast panels, all without finding anything out of place.

But something was bothering me.

The best way to handle that was a list.

I started at the top. The nukes secure, the weapons secure, documents filed and the cabinets locked and moved with a dolly down to the secure items storage, and on and on.

Something was bothering me.

Something important.

Something dangerous.

The lights flickered and the lizard grumbled, sleepily moving, while my fingers touched my eye patch.

I had fuel. I'd been checking consumption. The primary tanks would hold out until Feb, and that's when I'd have to switch over to the buried emergency tanks. Those were underground, in a concrete bunker. I'd checked them only a couple of days ago.

Listing the bunker and the two hundred thousand gallons of fuel I went to move on, to write down the next step, but my eyes returned to that line.

200,000 gallons of diesel fuel in emergency tanks in bunker C-4A

Something about that line.

The lizard turned over fitfully, this time opening his eye, making a stab of pain happen behind my dead eye. The pain actually made me hiss at the sudden stab of agony. For some reason my subconscious, where the numbers were ran and the decision trees executed, thought those tanks were important.

Something about them.

Something I was missing.

All right, that was easy enough to check on.

Getting up, I grabbed my gloves and field jacket. It would be cold in the sub-basement, despite the balmy heat of the barracks, and I didn't want to get a chill.

The tumblers were loud as I locked the door, and my boots caused echoes down the hallway as I walked down to the Middle Stairwell. My thigh and knee hurt with every step, the brace only helping so much after all the strain I had put on my left leg snowshoeing to Dead Man's Corner. The lights flickered again and I could feel the little lizard stir.

Outside a storm was raging.

The stairwell was fine, warm and dry, and I looked at the window between the first and second floor, noting that it was still clear of piled snow, just snowflakes whisking against it. The stairs trembled slightly beneath my boots, and my feeling of unease got worse.

Something was off.

The tile on the floor was still patchy from where it had been replaced, but I ignored it, and the twinge of cold and pain from my shoulder, and pushed through the door. The lights flickered as I unlocked the door to the massive War Stocks Room. A few of the lights were lit, enough to keep the room dimly illuminated, and I hit the switches with an open hand and waited. The smell of rotten flesh and rotting blood washed over me and I had to swallow several times to keep from gagging. The lights came on a bank at a time, starting at the back.

Each one clacked as they came on.

Once the lights were on I let the door shut behind me, putting my hand on it so it didn't slam, then walked through the War Stocks Room to the sub-basement access.

My brother had fell through a trap-door and into the sub-basement, when they rebuilt the basement they'd put stairs in at another access.

The access hallway was cold, the far door already covered by snow. The morgue was on my left, and it rose my hackles to think about. Eight hundred drawers, six feet deep, two feet high, three feet wide. Enough to handle all of group three times over.

One of those drawers was for me if they could find enough left of my body, just like there was a body bag with a toe-tag partially filled out in my War Stocks.

It didn't even bother me any more.

The stairwell down to the fuel room was ice cold, and the lights buzzed fitfully. The stairs were still the supported type, and clonked as I walked down to the main doors. The generator rooms were off the primary fuel rooms, and the gauges were above the generators.

Something made the lizard hiss in his sleep and I looked around, my hand on the door.

...you're not alone here...

I pushed the thought away and opened the door, the smell of the room making my eyes water. Hot metal and grease, diesel fuel, and the thin smell of rotting blood.

Still, it was hot in the room, the heat from the massive generators filling the room to the point where I could feel myself starting to sweat as I walked into the room, across the cement floor, to the gauges set in the wall.

Primary tanks, empty. Secondary tank, empty, emergency tanks, empty.

What. The. Hell?

I tapped on the gauges, but they stubbornly refused to move.

I checked each individual generator. They were running on the dedicated tanks, and all of them were sitting at between twenty and thirty gallons of diesel.

What the hell had happened to my fuel. The last time I'd checked I'd had over half a million gallons of diesel fuel, and according to my computations, which I'd run again and again, it was enough to keep me in fuel until June, even if I ran all the generators at once.

Now I had roughly a hundred gallons all together.

The lizard opened up one eye, his fan-like ears flicking as he tasted the air with his tongue. My fingertips went to my eyepatch.

There was something at the bottom of the box of gauges, something I'd missed before. I unfolded the Leatherman tool and got to work, undoing the screws and carefully taking off the front panel. I turned and set it on the insulated 5KW generator, then turned back to the insides.

Something had snapped into place, but the rest of it had fallen to bottom. It looked like one of those mechanical red flags that snapped into place to warn someone about the gauges.

I pulled it out and turned it over in my hand, looking at the white words imprinted into the red painted metal.

IMMINENT IMPACT

Those two words let me know everything. The system had gone into full protection mode. It had pumped all the fuel out and left me with just the main tanks. All of the fuel had been pumped into the hardened blast-proof tanks deep in the mountain.

Cursing I dropped the metal, grabbing my Leatherman and tucking it away as I turned and ran for the far door. I had to get into the War Fighter Tunnels, or at least get a hold of Cromwell. Someone needed to use the computer systems to pump fuel back up to me or within a short time the entire barracks would go dark as the electricity, and the heat, cut out.

I didn't bother locking the doors behind me, instead running up the stairs, barging through the door, and sprinting across the War Stock Room. I hit the door with my shoulder, knocking it open, and spun in place.

The big door to the War Fighter Tunnels stood there, silent. A multi-ton door carefully counterbalanced to allow it to be opened with fingertips. Designed to take a multi-megaton hit and keep right on going.

I moved up next to it, flipping up the ballistic shield on the panel and holding down the ENTER button. The lights flashed with 8's and then went blank.

I dropped my notebook when it slipped between my fingers, landing on the floor.

The lights flickered as I picked it up.

I typed in the access code as fast as possible. Messing up twice, my fingers shaking.

The lizard watched it all, leaning back on his tail, shaking his head at the urgency filling me. My survival center was coming online and he watched the gauges with interest.

please please please i don't want to be alone in the dark and cold please please please

The code finally went in and the sirens cut on.

The readout flashed: "TIMER LOCKOUT ENGAGED: 15:00"

I just stared at the readout as it started counting down. Someone inside the War Fighter Tunnels had engaged the security lockout that allowed whoever was in the War Fighter Tunnels to keep the doors shut until they get a quick reaction force there.

I kept bouncing up and down as the timer slowly counted down, aware that each minute was a gallon or so moving through the heavy generators.

Finally it hit zero, the siren shut off, and the massive bolts drew back with a loud clack that made the air shake. The door started to slowly open.

"Step away from the door!" Came from inside.

Groom's voice. God, I'd missed her sense of humor. I'd sent her from Atlas as soon as I'd learned she was pregnant, and now she was stuck in the War Fighter Tunnels.

"Hands behind your neck!"

Cromwell's voice.

The first human voices I'd heard in two weeks. Both women I respected.

My body seemed to get lighter as my survival center came fully online. My groin tightened at the sound of a female voice, the lizard pumping blood into it.

Their voices were rich and full, real in a way that I couldn't describe except for the fact that they were real, not over a phone line or static filled radio.

It almost made me weep as I laced my fingers behind my neck.

The door swung open to reveal Cromwell, Groom, and Harris standing there with rifles.

"Don't move, Stillwater, stay right there," Cromwell said.

I just nodded. The sight of them made my cock thicken as I stared at them. Living women, the first I'd seen in weeks.

"What do you want?" Cromwell asked.

"The fuel for the generators was pumped into the impact vault," I told her, staring at her. The lizard twisted at the sight of the two women. More blood. I was fully erect now, my balls starting to ache.

Both had large, heavy breasts, wide hips, thick thighs. Full lips, clear beautiful eyes.

The lizard hissed at male Harris.

He was weak. I could see it from here.

"How much fuel do you have?" Cromwell asked.

I could kill him easy, take all three of their weapons before they could stop me.

"A few hours, morning at the latest," I told them. "Then my generators fail and I lose light and heat."

Groom was pregnant, her belly fertile. Cromwell was built for breeding. A good Irish woman. For a split second I could see them, naked. My hard on hurt, ached, and I could remember the way she smelled out at Atlas.

"You can't reverse it from up here?" Cromwell asked. I shook my head. "Can we reverse it?"

"I think so. You'd have to order the computers to pump it out of the impact vault and back into my tanks," I told them.

They were bunched up too much, I could take all three of them.

"Where in the menus will we find it?" Cromwell asked. I shrugged. "You don't know?"

"I know it's there, I found it when I was learning the system the last time I was locked down here with Lieutenant James. I can find it pretty quick," I promised her.

Cromwell looked at me thoughtfully. "How quick?" She asked. I watched her mouth moved, and wondered how she'd look with it wrapped around my hard cock, looking up at me.

kill him

She cocked her head, still looking at me. Her eyes sparkled. I wanted her so bad my hands wanted to shake.

take them

The lizard reached forward and began adjusting dials. My breathing steadied out, cold wet fire ran slickly down my spine, and my muscles began to feel warm. My erection twitched and I had an overwhelming need start to fill me.

they're ripe...

"Ten minutes, maybe less," I promised. I took a single step forward. Groom looked at Harris, who shrugged, still looking at her. I rolled my shoulders and took another step. "I can find it pretty quick, pump the fuel back up here, and leave." My eyes were fixated on Cromwell, wondering just how tight she was, how she'd look with her hair spread out on the a pillow, how her voice would sound moaning in pleasure.

"You sure?" Cromwell asked me, her eyes wide and dreamy looking. She was fantasizing about something, I could see it, I could almost smell it, I could feel her warm skin against my hands.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples had stiffened in response to something. The stairwell was warm, the air flowing from the War Fighter Tunnel positive pressure system was easily in the mid-70's. Groom was still looking at Harris, who shrugged again. I didn't care, I was fixated on Cromwell and her breasts.

I took another step, my toes bumping the lip of the doorway. I wanted to reach out and grab her. She was close enough, I wanted to grab her, carry her with me up stairs, throw her on the bed, and use my aching hard on to core her out like an apple.

"Yeah," I promised, baring my teeth in a smile.

Cromwell was flushing slightly, staring at me. The barrel of her weapon drooped. She started to take a half step toward me.

...now...

"GET BACK!" Cromwell suddenly shouted, bringing her weapon up to her shoulder, raising the barrel. Her eyes were no longer dreamy, but her nipples were still erect, her breathing fast, her cheeks still flushed.

...take her, pull her upstairs, see if she is fit to present to the Matrons...

I stepped back, staring at the three of them.

"I need to go," I said softly, stepping back again.

...you can have both of them...

...you can have all of them...

...kill Harris...

"I have to go," I said, turning away from them.

...the Matrons would approve of her...

The lizard was hissing to himself, throwing up images in my mind.

I charged up the stairs, away from them.

...she is fit, and will bear strong daughters to carry on the family legacy, strong sons to provide for girls as is proper...

Groom showering, her thick waist, her high breasts, her firm and round ass. The way her pubic hair was fine and thin, just giving a see-through covering of her puffy outer lips.

...she too is fit...

I turned the first corner, picking up speed. My mouth was dry, my erection forgotten.

...i have to get away from them...

Cromwell, showering in the summer rain, her naked body glistening. Her thick pubic hair on top of a plump mound.

...don't make me into an animal...

"STILLWATER! WAIT!" Cromwell yelled. I almost stopped, the command from a girl hitting me right in the reflexes long dormant.

...no, get away...

"STILLWATER, COME BACK!" Cromwell yelled over her echoes.

It took everything I had to keep running.

I put my head down, running. My throbbing erection urged me to go back, to grab Cromwell, pull her up the stairs with me.

And my knee gave out.

I collapsed, my left leg sticking through the gap between bars of the railing.

I fell backwards, reaching out and trying to grab the railing, my body twisting as my left hand reached out and my right arm swept out, trying to find something to grab.

My thigh twisted as I rolled.

The bone screamed as tendon and ligaments in my knee shrieked and snapped, pressure switching from my now useless knee to my thigh bone.

It snapped.

I hit hard, falling backwards, my twisted leg slithering out from between the bars.

My right shoulder hit the edge of the step, the top of the humerus impacting against the edge.

Tendons parted, ligaments snapped and vanished into the muscle, the top of the bone cracked down to the middle of my upper arm, my rotator cuff shredded.

I screamed.

My legs went over my head as I flipped over backwards, my momentum switching directions again.

My left leg took my weight for a split second and my scream got louder, higher pitched as my leg bent at mid-thigh.

My ankle got caught in the bars as I kept tumbling, my left ankle hooking, holding for a second, then the tendons let go.

I screamed again.

The back of my head slammed against the landing.

Everything went white, then black. A loud ringing filled my ears.

Below me the heavy steel door of the War Fighter Tunnels slammed closed.

The shift in air pressure made a window above me shatter. I could feel the drop in temperature almost immediately.

...we are in...

...it will be cold...

My sight came back, and I was staring at the light on the wall of the stairs, shivering as I started to go into shock.

The light dimmed.

Snowflakes fluttered down between the stairs.

The light went out.

I felt the snowflakes brush my face.

...and now...

...it is dark...