Part 2: Chaos Unleashed

Chapter 12

Miles was closely watching the gun shop through his binoculars, it was six in the morning, and there were five others with him. The day would be hot again, but for now, the air retained the night's cooling breeze. They had come into town riding their horses through the woods, avoiding any inhabited areas. The goal was to get in safely and take as many guns and as much ammunition as they could carry.

It had been three days since Louise had scouted the area, and it didn't look any different from her report. The Humvee was still parked in front of the entrance, facing out. There was no one in sight, in or around the vehicle. Having dismounted their horses a short distance up the road, they had made their way by foot to a curve in the road where the gun shop just came into view. They had approached the shop from the opposite side of the road and below a knoll, just as Louise had done. What they didn't know was the situation behind the shop. Fortunately, the store was standing alone in a secluded area, which was a good thing for them, much safer, notably for a first raid with untried personnel.

Miles gave the signal to Abrams to move back up the road to where he could cross over safely out of sight of the gun shop and within sight of their location. He waited patiently, keeping an eye on Abrams as long as he could and watching the road for any threat. Between them, they had the road covered in both directions, and the woods behind them, safeties were off; everyone knew their assignment. Miles had his Ruger Precision rifle ready to open fire.

Considering himself far enough that he wouldn't be seen by anyone at the gun shop, Abrams made his way to the other side of the road, bent over and at a fast pace and with his weapon ready. Miles watched as he reached the cover of the trees on the far side. Using the training he had had the previous day, he followed Miles' instructions to the letter. He made it, signaling to the others that it was safe and he was in position. It was now time for each of them to move out one at a time and make the crossing, while the others kept watch.

Walt would stay behind, watching the horses. For his protection, he had a Saiga .308 semi-automatic rifle and a hand-held military radio, provided by Senator Forest; it was capable of receiving and transmitting on a wide range of channels, both civilian and military. They had chosen an open civilian channel to avoid any suspicion or chance the military was listening in. Communications would be short and not reveal much information. For Walt, it would simply be, "Walt, need help."

***

The last two days had been chaotic and the next few would probably be so too. It was clear for everyone that the events of that disastrous night: Aims attack on the gymnasium, the loss of power, internet, and phones, had marked a real turning point in everyone's lives at Saint Xavier. Collectively but also for each individual had come and taken hold the realization that their world was now going to be a different place uncertain of the fate of family, friends, home, their own future… their own mortality.

It had been a nightmare for Miles and all those present. First, they had to count the casualties, five dead, not counting Aims, two of them boys and three more severely wounded. They had to secure the school and get everyone that was not needed back to bed, which was a headache. Boys were everywhere inside and outside the houses. Since the phones didn't work, and with the rumors of death and mayhem, they had gone in search of friends or family, some using it as an opportunity for a night escapade, voyeurism. The result had been far from satisfying: the whole watch system disorganized, prefects leaving their post to get some news of what was going on.

Then it was time to do the cleanup. Take away the bodies and wash away the blood. They improvised a cemetery close to the gymnasium, behind the shop, where they would be buried the next morning. As they were setting it up, Cahill gave the alert. One of her patients, near the end, had turned. He was followed by a second thirty minutes later. Miles had to keep a watch on them, letting Abrams and the others, staff and prefects, take care of the chores. Fortunately, the straps and restraints were working and Miles was able to use this time to review what went wrong and what needed to be fixed right away.

Despite the warnings they had, and the measures taken, the disaster at the gymnasium had befallen the school anyway. It was the first real test of their readiness, and they failed. What went wrong, what were the facts? Miles had debriefed many soldiers on failed missions, analyzed the causes, and taken measures to correct them. He needed to examine closely each element that led to that failure.

Should Abrams, the most experienced with using a gun have left to start the generators? What took Greg so long to finally shoot and kill Aims? Should both boys have been given a gun? Who had the gun when it all started? Maybe the boys aren't ready; did they freeze in the face of the enemy? Of course, the fact that the attack and power outage had been simultaneous played a large role. Abrams was able to get through to Miles on his cell phone, but that was another weakness, as the network went down right after that. They should have had the radios provided by Senator Forest. Miles felt their planning and training was nowhere near where it needed to be in the face of what was to come.

It let him reflect on the state of the country beyond their walls. It was easy to imagine what effect such events could have on an unprepared world where people thought everything was under control and that they were safe, which was the state of mind of most of the western world. The rule now was that no one was safe and that you had to expect the worst around every corner.

Over the next few days, more flu victims would come to the gymnasium. This meant less adults in the school, and the cessation of most of the regular courses. New classes would take their place… survival lessons and military training. It was now urgent to train the prefects and older students in the use of weapons and fighting techniques; he would include what was left of the adult faculty and staff. He needed to get Saint Xavier ready to respond to such attacks in the best way possible.

They had a pressing need for more guns, ammunition, food, and many other items that would become vital as time passed. Miles knew that supply logistics was the key to the success of any campaign, and this was the ultimate campaign for survival. They needed to obtain these things from the outside world before they were gone. Then there was the possibility of an intrusion from the outside, both ferals and possibly small bands of survivors; they needed to protect themselves and protect what they had acquired so far.

News from the outside world, whether from other countries or even American cities was erratic and unreliable, it was clearly a mess, and a bloody one. Radio had become the main source of information replacing the other devices, available only sporadically. Public radio towers needed a significant amount of power, and broadcast when they had electricity and a person manning the station, backup generators were often out of fuel at this point. Those news reports had become old and repetitive and lost much of their interest. Their worries and concerns were now much closer and immediate.

The bodies were simply covered with sheets and buried early in the morning. There was a short, simple ceremony, and a few words were said. The location had been wisely chosen, it was big enough to receive many more.

The visible changes were the loss of power, phones, and internet and the fact that they would come back on for a few hours in the morning and then go off again, sometimes randomly during the day. Occasionally, someone would be able to reach a family member, or see a posting online; despair followed. Less visible, sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle or hidden, and yet rampant, was the shift in attitudes and behaviors. Discipline was mostly lost, students skipped classes, and faculty didn't always show up. Students were not dressed and showered for mealtimes; sporting events didn't have adult coaches and referees, pickup games would end in fights.

Groups were forming around leaders, friendships, country of origin, and family, those were the new values. Boys migrated inside and between houses. Some took it even further and broke down walls to create bigger dormitories to receive all their affiliates. In other places, boys were expelled from their rooms to be replaced by others. There were open disputes for territory. Old quarrels were rekindled; or were coming out in the open when they had been hidden in the past.

At first, the remaining staff, along with the prefects, both old and new, had tried to work these situations as effectively as possible, but they too were swept up by that wave of disobedience. Inclined to find some comfort and sense of belonging by following their own instincts, favoring those close to them, their new family, as the world around them collapsed. They too felt fear or sometimes panic, were depressed, and felt alone. They joined in and approved of the new attitude prevailing in the school.

When you thought of the population of Saint Xavier, composed of upper class boys, respectful of rules, with excellent education and above average intelligence quotients. It showed how deep those changes went, how much they meant. After weeks of endless dreadful news, of concern and fear for their families, and now themselves, the carnage in the gymnasium had been enough to topple over their world and references. They were now lost, thrown into the unknown. If you took it all in perspective, you could also have great concern for the whole country exposed to an even greater stress.

Many of the younger kids had become most unruly. Without classes, without phones or IPads, without structure to their day, they were bored and did not know how to occupy their time. There were bouts of crying and inquiries about their parents. They had turned towards the older boys for reassurance, who for the most part, found them uninteresting and bothersome. As different groups formed, they looked for anyone who would accept and include them. Two of those were Greg and Walt, and for very different reasons, with a clear advantage for Greg due to his recent exploit and general reputation. Walt had his Good Samaritan aura to vouch for him. They also turned towards the adults for guidance and protection, but that wasn't the same as belonging to one of the forming cliques.

The older crowd was more rebellious, and in as much of a need of help and guidance as the little ones. Losing the network on their phones and laptops, they had lost their social networks, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, Snapchat, Myspace… and had only their flesh and blood friends to rely on. Without adults around they wanted to affirm their personality, opinions, follow their intuitions.

***

Ke was a good example of the impact of the recent events and of that night on everyone. He had finally been released from the gymnasium that same morning. He was no longer terrified but angry and miserable. He did not want to have anything to do with his old friends and bedmates. He also had a strong grudge against Dunn and Abrams, who he felt, had let him down and given him false promises. The Bear boys had come to welcome him back but he had turned his back on them. All he wanted was to feel secure beside Greg who had saved him.

He went straight to the prefect to plead with him to take him in his house. He would do everything that was asked of him. Greg had been surprised by the demand, but found it very beneficial. Having the boy with him, most of the time, would remind everyone of who had been the hero that night. With the difficult times ahead, he could not refuse the advantage. The boy did not appeal to him that much, but he could be taught to suck and service whoever needed or wanted him. Greg was sure to find ways to make him become useful in other areas, all in all a very good deal.

When Ke went to Bear House to fetch his stuff and move in with the Eagles, he immediately saw the changes. Some rooms looked empty while others sheltered up to eight boys. He even saw a separating wall had been taken down on the second floor to make a larger dormitory. It was a mess. Some familiar faces were missing and some new faces were there, he knew them as Puma and Eagle boys.

Things were definitely different now.

He was hurt when he entered his room and saw Bob "the Flash" on his bed, talking and joking with Matthew and obviously so much at home. So I have been replaced already, he thought. Even Matthew could be considered an intruder; he had been there only a few weeks. Luckily, the others, those that called themselves his friends, were not there, so he would not have to confront them. When they saw him, the two boys tried to make him change his mind, asked him to stay, told him that Greg was not to be trusted. He did not answer but picked up his stuff in silence and left.

***

Miles and Carl, still untouched by the flu, knew that they had to restore some order and cohesion or lose it all to pandemonium. Reluctantly, they both understood that they needed to work together, be seen working together, and reinforce their collaboration to prevent the school from becoming a sinking ship. They had to react and do it fast.

Miles was tired after a night without sleep but was able to put into words the actions he had conceived while watching the enraged. He had decided with Carl to accept some of the chaos imposed by the boys. It was now required for each boy to register in his new house so that the lists were in place and the temperature check could be done efficiently. Discipline concerning security measures would have to be revised and enforced. An armed watch of all houses and patrols would be set up. The menace could come from the inside like with Aims, but also from the outside as Louise had witnessed. The unreliable phones would have to be replaced with the hand-held radios provided in number by Senator Forest. Alarm bell signals would be put in place to replace the inoperative phone messages. Clear instructions would be given and codes of conduct in case of a new alert. Training with weapons for all age groups would be put in place, raids would be organized and carried out by only the best-trained personnel, and prefects would have the same authority as staff.

They called an assembly for the whole school at twelve. The new rules were laid out and would be enforced. In the beginning, not all boys accepted or abided by the new rules and code of conduct. Some pushed the boundaries, it had been expected, and with the help of the prefects, notably Greg Sutton, Carl Fisher, and some of the staff, order and a sense of community that had been clearly menaced were restored. Miles Dunn imposed discipline on all matters concerning security, which was also a major factor in bringing back some reason and hope to the school.

Knowing that they could live on without a shortage of food, water, power, medicines or many other things, gave everyone a very concrete view of what could be their new future. The exposition of all these measures and precautions that had been taken previously in preparation for their current situation was coming together and working.

The gymnasium had become the antechamber of death; it was avoided by all except for some staff members and a small group of boys taken under the wings of nurse Cahill. It appeared she had carefully selected them and that they would manage it with her. No one had the time, energy, or will, to discuss it, and everyone was rather pleased since they had no wish to visit or work there. From then on Shirley would reign over it. The boys were between fourteen and seventeen and instantly became set apart from the other students. Greyson Driscoll, the exception, being the youngest of them at thirteen, filled Miles with an uneasy feeling.

During the lunch that followed, they lost power again. Abrams immediately restarted the generators showing to all those present that what had been said were not just words. They were prepared, and they had the means to face the next weeks and months safely. Without saying so, Miles figured it would be weeks at best, rather than months. As the dining hall cleared out, the generators were stopped to save on precious fuel. This, of course did not concern the refrigerators and freezers in the kitchen. They had their separate year round generators that had kicked in automatically as soon as the main power supply had been cut off.

Indeed, it would not be so easy in such a short amount of time. Miles had decided to start the military training right away. They needed weapons. He knew that if they waited too long, none would be easily available. They had to act now. First, he had to make sure that those who would accompany him would be up to the task. He had made a list of twenty people from the staff and prefects; he would start with the ten most promising ones. He had given himself twenty-four hours to ready them, but it was not enough time. It was too risky; lives could be lost, but he could not wait any longer. He would pick out four among the best of that selection.

During that time, Louise would take charge of organizing the weapons training for the whole school; training would be staged over the next few weeks, with both of them as instructors, something Miles had never done. They decided to use the year-round baseball training fields to the west of the school as target ranges. They were close to the riding school and the barns, but far enough from the center for the arts and other school buildings to avoid accidents like lost bullets and nuisances.

***

The gun shop objective was now close; they had each made it safely to the other side of the road, following the same path as Abrams. Besides Walt who stayed behind, and Abrams, there was Tom Cruise, Jon Kent, and Greg Sutton. Miles had decided to take along the prefect, first because he had excelled at the training but also because Miles knew who he would sacrifice in case of real problems. He had not forgotten what Greg had done to Anthony, and his grudge had not abated in the least.

Once on the other side they deployed in the direction of the gun shop, stopping at the edge of the parking area, keeping to the woods, and resumed their observation of the area.

Abrams had moved silently to the rear of the building. There was a steel door there, with no handles or visible way of opening it from the outside, clearly reinforced to prevent break-ins, considering the merchandise inside.

Miles kept watch from the left side of the building. There was not a move nor a sound except for those of nature all around them. Up close, he could confirm what his binoculars had revealed and what Louise had reported: the entrance door was locked by a chain and padlock, meaning that no one could come out the front of the shop. The place appeared deserted. Still there was that Humvee.

Miles moved into a position where he could see into the Humvee; its doors were not on, typical in this heat. He did not see the cable that is used to secure the steering wheel, the military way of "locking" the vehicle, as they do not have ignition keys. They wouldn't have left it unsecured like that even if it was left there as a visible deterrent.

Miles thought they may have decided not to be sitting ducks in the Humvee and were watching the place, hidden in the brush. The other possibility was that they were waiting in ambush inside.

"Everyone stay put, keep watch, and keep silent, while I check out the other side of the building," Miles commanded in a hushed voice.

"Greg, when I signal the coast is clear; bring the bolt cutters to the front door. The rest of you wait and stay on watch."

"Will do," came the reply from Greg, the others nodded.

Miles joined Abrams at the rear of the store, and saw there was no way in.

"Wait here, while I check the other side of the building. I'll contact you on the radio once the area is checked and cleared," said Miles.

Not waiting for an answer Miles was moving through the dense foliage careful to be as silent as possible, his eyes and ears on the lookout for any sign of a presence ahead.

Five minutes later, he was fairly certain that no one was watching the place. He came out into the open toward the entrance door, noticing that the power line had been cut. It was dangling down the side of the building. Good, that means the alarm system is out, and the battery backup by now was dead too. They weren't the first to attempt a break-in.

As he was sending a message to Abrams, he saw Greg come out of the woods, gun ready, with the bolt cutters in his backpack. The young man appeared alert but also at ease. Miles had to say that he was probably among those that learned fast with a natural predisposition for that kind of job. He didn't like him but he had to recognize his value.

Cutting the cable that went between the double doors, Miles went in first, instinctively checking the room corners, and wary even though he believed the store to be empty. The only light was coming from the open doors; the place was windowless, more secure that way. Cautiously, Miles checked out the store, aisle by aisle, behind the counter, into the back room, no one. Greg came in, not waiting for Miles to give the all clear. With great satisfaction, the place was largely intact. Whoever got there first must have been interrupted by the National Guard or a police patrol. A loud alarm would have alerted anyone around, at least until the battery went dead, or was found and disarmed. He had feared all along that the shop had been left unguarded because it had already been emptied. Instead, there were rows of guns of all kinds displayed on the wall behind the counter. Handguns could be seen under the glass counter; it was more than they could carry.

"Jackpot," he said over the radio. "Let's get together."

At that, Tom Cruise and Jon Kent retrieved the horses, just up the road. Abrams and Greg took up positions at the front of the store, keeping an eye on the road.

They had two extra horses to carry the loot but it would not be enough. Miles started to gather what he thought would be most needed and useful, moving it to the back of the store. He was able to open the rear door easily from the inside. In case of trouble, the rear would be easier to defend while they loaded up.

They had to break a few display cases, cut cables that secured the rifles and automatic weapons along the wall, pry open drawers and locked cabinets, and bust into a few closets. They were prepared with crowbars, hammers, and cable cutters. There were plenty of handguns and hunting rifles, shotguns and those semi-automatic rifles of the exotic kind, this was both a hunter's shop and collector. All would be put to use, they would need a lot for the training and keep the more efficient stuff for the real thing.

After loading the horses, there was still too much left behind and Miles really hated to leave anything.

"Let's use the Humvee," Walt spoke up.

"Of course, Walt, how stupid of me," he replied with a smile. Pressing the starter switch, just inside the driver's door, the Humvee roared to life. A quick check of the fuel level, and they were good to go.

They all pitched in and quickly loaded the back of the Humvee with all the ammo left in the store, and then piled in a few more guns. They now had everything Miles judged to be of the most value. It was going on nine o'clock, almost three hours now since they had arrived, a little longer than originally planned, but well worth it. Miles drove the Humvee with Walt riding shotgun. He had his phone to guide them, keeping to the back roads. Even if there was no network connection, the GPS function was still working, and it would stay that way for many years, slowly losing accuracy with no one to calibrate the signals from the satellites. The other three would ride the horses back to Saint Xavier.

Forty-five minutes later, with careful driving and avoiding main roads, they arrived back at Saint Xavier without incident. Their first raid went smoothly and was a resounding success. Did it mean luck was with them? Miles only wished that it would stay that way.

As soon as they were back, the weapons were unloaded and stored in what would be the school's armory, a large room in the administration building that securely stored the most private documents. It held student and alumni transcripts, faculty and staff records, along with the school's financial books. Miles designated Tom Cruise to establish a very accurate inventory of every gun and box of ammunition present.

Then it was time for lunch and some much-needed rest to ease the tension before starting the first rounds of training in the afternoon.

***

During Miles absence, Carl had been scheming and planning his takeover of Saint Xavier. The last events and the call from Senator Forest had clearly shown him that the world had changed and that there would be no return to normal. What he had secretly hoped for was becoming a reality. He would use the next few days to set in motion what he thought of as his grand vision of the future: a future that would be drastically different, at the service of his needs and desires.

So far, the adult club members, apart from Aims, had been spared by the flu, and he saw that as an omen, a welcome fact, and a sign that it was time for him to move forward with his plans. A club meeting was set up for the next morning. He needed Greg's support, his role, as a leader among the prefects would be crucial in the revolution that was to take place. He wanted the school to become his laboratory for a new society where boylove would be a respected and valued norm.

The boys in the club, who numbered about thirty, would not be forgotten and would have their parts to fulfill too; they would be the ones who brought others into the fold. What would be asked of them could seem difficult to accomplish. Make acceptable that relations between companions, as he planned to call them, were potentially of a sexual nature. Some factors would help them, the confusion and insecurity experienced by all students due to the loss of their parents, an uncertain future, the disappearance of the female kind, the push of hormones, an undefined sexuality at that age. All this was becoming a part of their short lives and it was now time to expand their young minds, to mold and shape them in a new direction.

It could seem absurd and impossible considering the opprobrium attached to it in modern society but a new one would soon replace it with new values, he just had to show the way and push the right buttons. He was convinced that a crowd was easier to manipulate than an individual was, and he would soon know if he was right. He knew that kids had a need to conform, if fucking boys was the new trend they would follow, he was sure he could win them over; after-all, he was a master manipulator.

Carl knew the road to success had two formidable hurdles to overcome: Louise Simons and Miles Dunn. The first one, he was certain, would only be defeated if she caught the flu and died. If not, she would have to be relegated to the sidelines, and this would only happen if she were unable to find any support among the remaining adults. This made the second one, Dunn, quite crucial. Carl had had some difficulty assessing Dunn; he seemed to be a man with principles, the worst kind, that you didn't bend to your will easily whatever subterfuge you used. The fact that he was a boylover, the proof he had collected, and any leverage he might have gained from that, was now of little value, given his own agenda for the future of the community. Still there was a good chance that he could be convinced that Carl Fisher's future was the best he could embrace.

They had been together a lot these last days. They were working in perfect harmony, which was surprising considering their differences. After all, the man must have been living in hell, like most of his kind. Hiding his desires, probably having very few occasions to indulge in them from what Anthony had told him. What he had to offer him should be enough to win him over, free his tormented soul; let him openly and without fear indulge in his innermost and secretive cravings.

Carl felt that the time was close when all the cards would have to be put on the table. Nearly half the staff was now gone or on their way out and the disease was still spreading. Considering how many club members were left and adding the prefects and boys, their number was quite favorable to be a force to reckon with. Carl still had a few names on his list he wanted to recruit or at least assure himself of their neutrality before going further. One was Tools who had been, up until now of no interest to the club. He had been kind of a mystery; he had never been caught at anything, and was dedicated to his work and love of literature. To everyone's knowledge, he had no sentimental relationship in or outside the school, although Carl had his doubts about the man; he would soon know if he was right.

***

Tools was not his usual self, in fact no one was anymore, and when Carl Fisher invited him for a drink he had accepted without any thoughts as to why. Over all these years, Carl and Raymond Tools hardly socialized unless it was a school gathering, and even then, they hardly spoke. They were different altogether; Tools had always thought himself asexual, in love only with literature. His life goal had been to share it with the boys he was in charge of. Now though, with death all around them, a new kind of fever had invaded the school, a strange atmosphere mixed with the loss of all points of reference and a hypothetical future full of uncertainty. Feelings and emotions were now prominent, logic and restraint seemed pointless. Thoughts of things never experienced in life's journey were taking over everyday thinking. For Tools, self-doubt was omnipresent, and he was somewhat lost.

Carl received him in his apartment, two boys where there too, one he knew, Alex Wohlstetter, and the other, a little olive skinned freshman. Both looked very appealing, dressed lightly in their sports uniforms that consisted of a t-shirt and shorts, which showed off much of their lissome figures.

Carl started the impromptu meeting with inconsequential matters; they did not know each other well; at least that's what Tools thought. He was distracted by the two boys and their obvious intimacy with Carl who took every opportunity to touch, caress, and smile at them. The boys were in charge of servicing their needs, refilling their glasses, and offering snacks.

Then Carl talked about their situation; what choices they had; the difficulties he had with Dunn: only there for a few weeks and he wanted to have his way with everything.

Tools was not used to alcohol, and after the second glass of whiskey he began to feel a little dizzy and rather relaxed. Carl then questioned him about his likes and dislikes in life, surprised by his dedication and loneliness. Was there someone he was dating without anyone's knowledge? At the same time, the younger boy named Enrico, the one with the sunny skin, jet-black hair and delicate features had come to sit on Carl's knee. Carl's hands were exploring every curve of the supple and very much exposed body, lingering at the crotch or under the shirt. The boy was almost purring.

Are they putting on a show for me? That can't be… they're kissing! thought Tools, who was horrified but also very much aroused and fascinated.

With one hand in the boy's shorts and between kisses, it was Carl who remarked upon his guest's expanding crotch and demanded that Alex do something about it. The boy got to it right away and gave the flabbergasted Tools the first blowjob of his life. Then it was too late. The gates had been opened, and nothing could close them again.

"No harm in welcoming the Little Death, la Petite Mort, as the French say," Tools certainly knew the meaning of that expression; he was living it and flooding the boy's mouth with his cum, "when the real one is around the corner. Welcome to the club," Carl said, not believing his luck. It had been so easy.

After a few more words from Carl, Alex took him to a nearby room, where he discovered a new world of possibilities and forbidden pleasures. The alcohol had helped to diminish any inhibitions that may have remained. It was afterwards, that feelings of remorse, of guilt that he could not dispel, took over. Those feelings planted the seeds of an anger that would flourish and be oddly directed at those young creatures that, he had just discovered, made him whole.

***

Again, Carl thanked his luck. It seemed that, for the moment, those of his kind where largely represented at Saint Xavier. True, it was not that surprising to find more of them in an all-boys school than in the general population; what was more striking was that they had mostly been spared by the Shanxi flu so far.

He wanted to bring Dunn to his side too. They had many interests in common but he doubted they would have the same vision of the coming world. It was worth a try though. If he reached that goal, his success would be almost certain.

For now, he planned to take his prize and initiate little Enrico to the joys of anal sex; it had been long overdue. It would be that evening; he could not wait any longer. His hand was still in the boy's shorts cupping his smooth and firm ass, one finger tickling his rosebud. What a delight it will be!

"I want you in my bed tonight, my little love. I'll show you how to make real love; you will spend all your nights with me from now on."

"Just the two of us?"

"Yes, just the two of us."

"What about Lewis?"

"What about him?"

"I don't want him to hurt me, again."

"When did he hurt you?"

"Whenever I'm not doing what he wants."

"I didn't know that, love. He will not be allowed to touch you in any way from now on. I promise." What did that stupid boy do? It was against all his stipulations. He didn't… "How did he hurt you? He didn't use your…"

He pushed his finger against the child's seemingly still very tight hole.

"No, not that, he pinches me, twists my arm, slaps me; he does that all the time, for no reason, even."

"So your little treasure is intact and all mine. I would have been very angry if it had been otherwise, with the two of you," the man let out a sigh of relief. He was still a virgin and would be his first in a very long time. "Don't you worry; I'll take care of that. I'll be the only one to touch you from now on, and I won't hurt you. You should have told me all this before. I would have made him stop."

The boy, who showed as much innocence as strange confidence, settled comfortably against his protector, offering his lips.

"Lewis told me it could hurt when you put your weenie in my butt but that I shouldn't complain."

After a lingering kiss Carl answered, "I'll be very careful. I've done it many times, it doesn't hurt if you do it right. No need to worry about that, I'm an expert and you'll see it can bring a lot of pleasure, for both of us."

"You'll be very careful?"

"Yes, I will. Time to go to lunch, love, I'll pick you up after the showers. Don't be afraid, I'm sure you'll love it."

Carl watched the boy pull his shorts back up into place and scamper away, his eyes fixed on the little butt that he was sure he would enter and fully enjoy that evening.

Yes, he thought, the boy I held in my arms, the boy I was kissing; I will soon be able to do with him everything I want, no more restraints. Well, nothing too extreme yet, he is a Saint Xavier boy and he has a brother, Carl still needed allies. For that reason he would have to settle things with Lewis too, it was no way to treat his brother. Very soon, he would be able to let his mask fall, no need to hide anymore. What a feeling, what a relief it would be. All that caution; all those schemes; all that fear that had accompanied him for years; they would leave him now.

There were as many boys as he could want beyond the school's walls, more than he could ever dream to enjoy, and with those, he would do as he wished. He would make sure of that. The only thing he had to decide was the moment when the mask would fall. If only it could be right now!

In fact, it could be… very soon.

***

Miles, after lunch, had joined Louise on the baseball field to start the training and selection of the boys. They were proceeding in a very methodical way, each taking care of ten boys at a time. There were two hundred and ninety-four now, all grades were involved. The first stage would easily take them three days to complete.

The goal was to select those who could be trusted with a gun, teach them enough discipline and safety, and observe them to see if any of them displayed a particular or interesting talent. The chosen boys, hopefully around fifty, would be the first to enter the second stage of the training. These would go through the whole process, offensive and defensive tactics using small arms, hand-held weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. They would be the spearhead, those that would go on raids and become the core defense of the school. They would receive the most attention from Miles and Louise.

The others would receive only a basic training with notions of self-defense and firearm safety. From that second group, they hoped that another fifty or perhaps more would in time, be able to reach a satisfying level of competence and eventually join the first group. The rest judged incompetent because of clumsiness or fear, or deemed too eager and dangerous would be given other tasks. Everyone would find their usefulness, if only to preserve their self-respect.

Miles had decided that Matthew and the few boys that he had close contact with during their quarantine at the infirmary would receive extra courses. Bob, Logan, and a few others like the twins would be easy to integrate, if willing. He wanted to make sure that those few special boys he cared about had the best chances to survive a deadly confrontation. He would have to find a way to include Anthony in that group, of course, but had not yet found a good or logical enough reason to make it happen.

Since that night, which was both wonderful because of Sven but terrible because of Aims, he had been unable to have any intimate contact with any of his young lovers. Apart from a friendly gesture or the exchange of longing glances, nothing had been possible. He feared it would stay that way for the foreseeable future. He had no time for himself and more tasks than he could hope to achieve.

There was the possibility of another night meeting at the infirmary but he judged it unsafe. He did not want Anthony or Sven walking alone in the dark and risk being accidentally shot by one of the armed prefects that now patrolled the grounds. The persons on the watch were nervous and not as reliable as he would like. An accident was one of his greatest fears for the oncoming days.

He also had to get some rest after the last few very tiring days. From now on, he would be directly interacting with the kids who were handling the guns. It demanded his full attention and lots of concentration. He would go on raids again, and that too would leave no place for mistakes. He had to be as fit as possible. The only interaction he could have with the boys was on the training field in everybody's sight, and that would have to do for the moment.

The two baseball fields to the west were put to use as training grounds, one for Louise, and one for himself. Carl Fisher had made the list of the boys and set the order in which they would pass, each in sets of ten. The first few minutes were spent showing them what weapons would be at their disposal: how they worked, and most importantly, the safety measures necessary in their handling. At the end of each session, they were allowed to handle them before firing a few rounds at the targets. The main purpose was to get to know those that would go to the next level and get the real training. It was tedious work but also rewarding.

Getting to meet so many different individuals recalled Dunn of his time with his platoon. Fisher logically had put the upper grades first but Miles anticipated when he would be taking charge of the younger ones. He would enjoy the body contact necessary to show them how to handle and position their weapons, compensate the recoil, and many other tips needed to maximize accuracy and precision.

Walt had already received his special training the day before which allowed him to join them on the gun shop raid. Miles had asked him to be there and serve as an assistant, to help him and Louise. He wanted the boy to profit from everything that was taught and shown during those sessions. He told him of his plans to dedicate some special time for Matthew, Johnny, and the others, and asked him to gather them for a first lesson before dinner.

From the start, quite a few boys had gathered to watch the proceedings. Boys had always been attracted to guns, and even if what they could see had very little interest, they still pressed their faces against the wire netting that separated them from the field. Miles always made sure they were always well positioned behind the firing line and that no stray boy ventured beyond that limit.

Miles had been hoping to see Anthony's face among them and he was soon rewarded. He signaled the boy to come to him, using the pretext of sending him on an errand, and told him to come back later to join a few others for a private lesson. The boy played his part giving no hint as to their relation but left with a smile that was priceless for Miles.

***

Finally came the time for the self-proclaimed "Dunn's warriors." He had been so right. It was so strange and exciting. He was there in plain sight, able to touch the boy he loved, moving a leg, bending a knee or arm, stretching his neck, pushing his hair away from his eyes. Sven was splendid, even if he was not wearing his diminutive jean shorts; he still showed a lot of flesh and probably on purpose. Miles also suspected that he was intentionally being more clumsy than he should be, taking pleasure from the man's touch and attention, wanting his lesson to last as long as possible.

And he was not alone. The same proceedings were repeated with each of the boys present, Matthew, Johnny, Bob, the Edwards twins, Logan, William, and Silvio, all desirable young boys. It had worked according to his plan, perfectly. All the boys he felt close to were with him on this baseball field. He would have liked to bring more like Cole the swimmer, Chandler the actor, and a few others, but it was enough for the moment. They were Dunn's warriors, as they now liked to call themselves.

Most of them had been with him on that first Sunday, riding and playing at the pool. It seemed so long ago, before the Shanxi flu with all the mess, hardships, and death it had brought. Still, the name had stuck. Adding Anthony to the lot went smoothly and naturally, and he was accepted right away and without question. He appeared curiously shy during his time with Miles and much less daring than Sven.

He was able to get close and personal with each one of them, it was his reward for an exhausting day. He was also satisfied to see that all of them showed some talent or at least a welcome confidence and caution with the guns, even young Logan and Silvio. The boy most at ease and with the best aim was Bob; he showed an instinct that was close to spectacular. Miles never had to tell him anything twice; he seemed to understand everything even before the words left his mouth. He found himself in the right position in every situation. His hands handled the different weapons like old friends. Miles, while complimenting him, still fulfilled his role of instructor, letting his hands touch and move him, if only to comfort the chosen posture. He could not miss such an opportunity.

There was an obvious intense sexual tension for himself and at least two of the boys. Miles knew he would need a release from it soon.

Walt, beside him, had also been a fast learner and now was an efficient assistant; he appeared to take an equally great pleasure in his physical contact with the boys and was, without surprise, particularly attentive and close to Sven. To Miles he showed no resentment and was his usual self, there seemed to be no lingering jealousy because of Sven's proximity and affection towards the man.

"Logan, don't play with the safety, even if your gun is not loaded you must always keep it on. You take it off only when you are ready to shoot or in a fighting situation. Also be very cautious with your moves, the barrel must always be facing the ground. Don't go around aiming it randomly. That's how accidents happen."

"Are we going to shoot at the targets now? You've been drilling us for so long now," asked Sam with a winning smile.

"Do you think you're ready? I'm not so sure."

"Oh yes, please!" enthused all the boys together.

"Okay, just joking. I must say that I am quite proud of all of you and how well you behaved today. Let's start, but one at a time and only five rounds each, we don't have enough time for more. Don't worry, tomorrow, that will be our main occupation"

These boys were much younger than those that he had monitored all day, nonetheless they had shown a high level of responsibility, but he wanted to take no chance. With pleading eyes, all had raised their hands to be the first to shoot.

"Sam, since you were the first to ask it is your turn. What is your choice; handgun or rifle?" Walt had loaded one of each and set them on the table.

"Rifle."

"Good, show us what you can do. You got five rounds."

The boy picked the AR15 and took position, following his instructions to the letter. He fired one bullet at a time unhurriedly. As soon as he was done, he put the safety back on and put his weapon on the table while Walt went to fetch his target and replaced it with another one.

"Not bad for a first time. Three in the target, that's a very good start. Bob, your turn." Miles was curious to see if his accuracy would match his handling of the guns.

"Rifle, Walt, please," he said, not at all intimidated.

He took position and shot faster than Sam, with obvious ease and calm. The result was striking: for the first time that day, all rounds had hit the target and were quite close to the center.

"Excellent Bob, if you keep at it you'll earn the sharpshooter title."

"Matthew, show us what you can do."

The young blond boy was adorable that evening, his hair in slight disarray and wearing a sleeveless tee shirt and tight shorts that put in perfect perspective his slender form. He was definitely a striking child, one that attracted attention wherever he went. Many others around Miles in this instance could be described that way; he was surrendered by boyish beauty.

Matthew was not as proficient with guns as his friend Bob but his natural grace and heart compensated his obvious wariness of the weapons. He had chosen the handgun, which was a Colt Lightweight Commander. He went to the mark that had been set on the ground closer to the target and raised his arm. Miles felt some anxiety fearing that he would not master the recoil, he thought the boy to be too tense, but soon he saw him relax as he took aim. Only two of the bullets hit the target and one grazed it, which was already quite a feat for a first try. They could have used twenty-two caliber weapons and they would later, if only to save on ammunition, but Miles wanted the boys to be acquainted with the real thing first.

"Excellent, Matthew, the handgun is noticeably more difficult to master than the rifle, you did quite well."

One by one, they chose a weapon and all performed beyond expectations. Miles thought that he might not be that bad an instructor after all, despite his lack of experience teaching mere children. It could probably be chalked up to the trust and confidence the boys felt emanating from him. They knew that whatever they did, he would support and help them. There was no stress and no real sense of competition even if some of them would have been delighted to impress their classmates and Miles above all.

Matthew had found his place beside him as usual, resting his slight frame against Miles' much stronger one while they watched each boy pass his test. He was soon joined by Sven who stayed close but did not dare show as much intimacy. Miles, in a surprising show of open affection, reached for him and caught him by the waist, letting the boy rest against him. It was done in such a spontaneous way that it appeared natural and did not raise any notice. Only Anthony found it peculiar, but perhaps because he would have liked to have been in Sven's place.

Notwithstanding the fact, they were shooting at targets, learning to use deadly weapons with the intent to use them, and perhaps, in the near future, to kill. It was a founding moment. A new kind of family was being forged, one that would grow stronger through adversity. It was a magic moment.

Miles was affected by that emotion and he thought all those around him were too. They were Dunn's warriors, they were many, but at the same time, they were one. They shared a purpose, a need, a friendship. During those few minutes, he lost that sexual urge that had been so strong at the beginning. He simply enjoyed the thrilling sensation of being accepted, being close to all those wonderful boys, being their guide and guardian, being an integral part of their community.

Soon all ten of the boys had passed their tests and it was time to go to dinner. They all wanted it to last longer, to prolong that moment of strange peace, but it was not possible. Miles sent the boys to the dining hall while he gathered the guns and ammunition with Walt to take them back to the armory. Anthony had stayed behind, apparently to tie a shoelace that had come undone, and then volunteered to help. Miles though he had something else on his mind though, something in direct relation to the stirrings he himself felt in his crotch.

Tom Cruise was in charge of the armory and took charge of securing the weapons. Once the weapons had been properly checked back in, all three made their way to dinner and came in sight of one of the restrooms. Sending a glance in Miles' direction, Anthony winked.

"I need to go. I'll catch up with you."

"My bladder is full too, I'd better join you. Go ahead Walt, we won't be long."

It appeared to Miles that he would get that much needed relief after all. As soon as they had entered, they went to one of the empty stalls and locked the door.

"We don't have much time. How much I missed you Anthony!"

The man's hands were all over the boy, his mouth devouring him, his tongue exploring. Anthony wasn't idle either, pulling down his shorts and underwear before freeing his lover's fully erect rod.

"Take me, take me now," he said as he spit in his hand and spread his saliva around on the straining cock head. "Hurry, I want you!" he added, turning around and offering his very desirable buns.

"There's nothing I could want more," answered Miles as he pushed his meat all the way in at once in the heat of passion. There were a few grunts from Anthony as he needed to get used to the tool, but soon he was the one pushing back to meet the man's powerful thrusts. It did not last long; both had been holding back for most of the day and were at the peak of their excitement. After a few strokes, Anthony came, followed seconds later by Miles.

As he caught back his breath, Miles recalled his very similar meeting with Sven a few days before. Fortunately, it had not unfolded that way. It would have been a disaster, what was possible to achieve with the well-experienced Anthony would have ended in tears or even worse with Sven.

Anthony was already pulling back up his shorts with a large smile on his face.

"That was a quickie but a good one."

"Yeah, it was great, I needed that. I thought I would not have a chance to be with you for days, that's how busy I've been lately."

"Don't worry, we will find ways, trust me. Let's go; we don't want everybody to wonder what we've been doing."

He took Miles by the hand and led the way in the direction of the dining hall. As they got closer, Miles let go of his soft hand with regret.

***

Carl had spent a wonderful night with little Enrico and was in a good mood. The little boy had been his youngest and first virgin in many years. It had been sweet and exquisite. He had taken his time and kept his promise not to hurt him. But once he had been inside, he enjoyed his fuck to the fullest and stayed there for the best of two hours. The Viagra certainly helped. It appeared that the younger the boy the easier the entry was; he would enjoy checking this assumption soon.

The time had come to take off his mask. All his allies where in place, ready to give the School to him. He was very confident that all his bets would be winning ones. He knew who he was addressing and what would work, and what was to be avoided for most of them. Once things were in motion nothing could stop him, they would follow out of instinct. No one liked to be left behind by the side of the road. He just had to show the way and avoid a false start at all costs. That could be his downfall, bringing doubt and dissonant voices. The first step was the most important one.

Only two people now could really dispute or oppose his leadership; Miles Dunn and Louise Simons, who had always disliked him for no reason he could decipher. Dunn, he thought he could deal with. He had the right cards up his sleeve, he did not think possible that the man would refuse what he had to offer. Simons he had no control over at all. He needed to isolate her, drown her voice out to make it inaudible by whoever might want to listen.

He closed the door of his office and started to speak.

"You all know why I have gathered you here today."

He was addressing Shirley, Abe Taylor, Derek Palmer, Greg, and some of Greg's buddies.

"We are partners and this terrible situation we are in should tighten our bonds and offer us a formidable opportunity."

"You seem extremely optimistic, Carl. That's not how I would describe it, I would say, simply, that we are in deep shit. And that it is only the beginning," said Abe.

"You disappoint me Abe. I thought you would have seen the opportunities offered."

"Apart from the fact that no one will prosecute you anymore for what you are doing with little boys? I see only disadvantages. We had a nice little business going and now we're not even sure about seeing the end of the week."

"As I recall, Abe, you never refused playing with boys yourself, but you're right, that's not the point. Yes, things have changed; no one knows yet how it will end. But whatever the fate of each one of us, I think we have to assume we will survive and act to make the best of what will be left so that we can be on the top of the food chain. We have all the assets to achieve that."

"We're listening," said Shirley

"Soon, you will agree, it will be the law of the strongest that will reign over this world. It is what we have to become. If we achieve that, our lives could be even better than what we had before." Carl paused before continuing, "We have, will have, the school and three hundred boys, and plenty of weapons, food, and fuel. If we can unite them, lead them, they will be our work force and soldiers, our shield. It is our great chance that boys are mostly spared by the Shanxi flu and we can build upon that."

"A lot of words," interjected Abe, "but how do you plan to do that?"

"That's quite simple in fact, and this has not changed: the carrot and the stick. A lot of carrots first, and I have a few ideas. Give them what they want, which is for the younger ones, protection, food, and games. Let them play soldiers; boys love that. We will also tell them that we are working on getting in contact with their families and will reunite them if possible. For the older ones and the remaining staff it will be power and pussy, both boy and girl pussy. For some, it will be cigarettes, drugs, and booze. Let them feel important and in charge. They are the ones we need the most, we must do our best to keep them happy"

"Easy to say." It was Derek Palmer.

"I agree, but if we stick together, it can work. We already have about fifty under our influence. If the others see what advantages there are to being with us, they'll flock to us."

"What about the others?" It was Greg.

"There are very few, perhaps Cruise, and a handful of prefects, but only two really bother me and can really oppose us and lead an opposition; Dunn and Simons. I'll try to work something with Dunn since I want him on our side and I know what he wants. Not only his experience could be invaluable, but also I am sure he has crucial information he has not disclosed yet. I am working on it. Simons I don't care about; she stays and she gets in line or she goes."

"Which means?" Greg again.

"That she gets out of the picture one way or another. But we are still far from that moment, our goal for now is to bring all the kids to our side. I'll set up a game room for the kids where they can play, watch movies, and charge their phones and computers. It will not be available for everyone of course; they will have to earn it. I doubt we will reach any of the parents but we could fake it with the help of some of our boys to keep the others hoping and supporting us."

"I like that; it's perfectly in line with all we've done these past years," said Shirley.

"Greg and our club members will determine the boys that can be trusted and are likely to come to our side, offering them all we can offer and promising them more when our position has been secured. We have a large stock of goods that we will need for that. Don't we, Derek?"

"We do. I got a delivery just in time, a big one with everything we could need. For pussy, we can provide our club boys if there is interest, and I agree with you, Carl, there will be many of them that don't care what they fuck as long as they get their balls rocked. Girls, that is more problematic."

"That will have to come later. I think most of the students will be happy with what we already have and we will enroll them to serve our purpose. We will benefit from the training done at this same moment by Dunn and Simons. Select those that can better serve us. Play with their hopes and needs. Then the second step will be the outside world. As far as we know, there will be mostly kids out there: kids and probably ferals. Most adults and near all females, sorry Shirley, will be dead. The pickings should be easy. From now on, our attitude towards Saint Xavier boys will be one of support. No more bullying, no need to intimidate. I want them to come to us willingly because it's in their best interests. I want them to adhere to our views of the future. We will discuss the fate of those that are not convinced later. For now, they are all with us. Concerning boys, we will have to take our picks sparingly for a time. But soon we will have as many as we want, to do with as we wish."

Greg smiled at that.

"I've been working on Cole's case with Greg. He belongs to us now. Even if Thorvald is out of the picture we can share him around and with you, Carl," said Shirley.

"You always astonish me, my dear. I had completely forgotten about him, he'll certainly be very much in demand. We can't refuse your generous offer. I trust Greg has helped open the way?"

"That I did," he answered.

"One more important point; women and girls will become scarce. Those that survive will become extremely valuable. I plan on bringing here as many as can be found, some for breeding, some for pleasure, and some as currency. I will try to stir our students to embrace our love of the younger boys. Make our preferences something natural and appreciated. It should be so partly out of necessity anyway, but let's not forget that a large number of them will remain mainly interested in girls, and to have some at their disposal will be a strong asset. Also, sooner or later we will come in contact with other groups like ours and we must be prepared."

"Quite a speech, boss," said Abe, "and I can see a lot of big holes in that plan of yours. Still, I must say you've got something there. I'm with you."

"Glad to hear it, Abe."

"I would never have thought we would have gotten so far in only two weeks if the world is in such a bad shape," said Palmer, "there is a good chance I know where to find a good stash of drugs that could be of use."

"Good initiative, Derek. Of course, any and all means to bring more boys to our side are welcome. For now, we get prepared. We keep in the shadows and continue to collect names, offer our services. Count our troops. We will wait a bit more before coming out, no pun intended. We need to see our boys used to the weapons at their disposal and even better, to have a good feel of what's going on outside. Are you going to the food depot tomorrow, Greg?"

"Yes, Dunn is taking me and a few others."

"That way we will have firsthand information on what is going on out there, a few miles from our gates."

Abe started to cough and sneeze at that moment… all those around him moving away with uneasy looks.

"Don't worry it's just my allergies. I'm out of pills."

"He's right, nothing to worry about," said Shirley.

Despite her statement, the atmosphere suddenly became tense in the room.

"Time to end this meeting then, we are only at the beginning of a new adventure. Think about what I said. As soon as I think we are ready, I'll make the club official. Let our presence, tastes, and influence known."

"Isn't that a bit risky?" asked Palmer

"Yes, it might be, but I'm fed up of hiding who I am. Not only that, I think we have to make our move now, before Dunn and Simons get more followers. They have already gathered some followers at Bear House, isn't it Omar? The weapons training put them in the limelight. We have to stop it, now. People are attracted by numbers; if we show ourselves, then half the job will be done."

"Your taste for boys could shock some," suggested Abe.

"As I said already, out of necessity, our taste for boys will become the norm. You can be certain of that with more than ten males for one female; again, sorry Shirley. More importantly, we need to show the way, make our preference acceptable…or even better, make it desirable. But you're right, no need to overdo it. Let's just act reasonable and simply state some truths. I have an idea for a mentor or companion program to pair older and younger boys together. The rest I'm sure will come spontaneously; at that age, with nothing much to do, what else could they think of?"

"Okay then, it will be fun to watch. I would have loved to see Daniels' face when you do that, I doubt he'll still be with us by that time though," said Shirley.

"I'll get you more details tomorrow, after the raid. I need to see Dunn first. I'll wait for your ideas, suggestions, and remarks. Greg, stay for a bit, I have a few things to discuss with you."

"Of course, Carl."

"Lady, and gentlemen, that will be all for today. Once again, I want any input you might have. I am sure there is more we can do to help our takeover of the school. Think about it."

They slowly left the room in silence, leaving the headmaster and prefect alone.

***

The day was more of the same for Miles but with younger kids, which certainly pleased him. There was a strong erotic charge for him during the proceedings. He could daydream all he wanted while he sampled and touched the objects of his fantasies. His cock was straining and leaking; it was kind of an exquisite torture. Thankfully, his libido waned a bit by the end of the day due to his tiredness.

He had also wanted to fight against the compulsion that associated every pretty boy he met with desire and sex but was rarely successful. Still, he longed for that special time he would spend again later with Dunn's warriors and hoped for another intimate meeting with Anthony. He was also searching for a way to make those meetings last longer, and to make them more enjoyable and less risky. Also, there was Sven whom he was eager to lay with again.

The day had been rather enjoyable and the contact with the many boys had been rewarding. Walt stayed by his side or was with Louise the whole time, learning as much as he could. He was starting to give advice himself now, and helped at every available occasion. Finally, after the last group had gone for the day, Miles readied himself for his special team of boys with great enthusiasm

After a few minutes of assigning each boy to a task, Miles showed Bob, his most promising student, how to use a variety of weapons. Bob was a bright boy, and there was no need to repeat things more than once or twice. Matthew was watching them. The two were always together, even more so now that the "Flash" had moved to Bear House.

Now that weapons were everywhere and in the hands of boys, security was an obsession for Louise and himself. They had spent most of their time over the last two days teaching the boys how to use them, and more importantly, how to use them safely. It meant training all three hundred boys in gun safety measures and became a tremendous amount of work.

The discipline was lacking more and more every day, and the boys and staff had difficulty concentrating on the tasks at hand. Their minds wandered between thoughts of family, fear of the flu, and their uncertain futures. Less so with some of the younger ones, who, without classes, thought their new found freedom to be a great adventure. Yet they were no easier to handle. Uniforms were mostly a thing of the past: no more ties, no more jackets; which was appreciated since it had become quite hot as of late.

He had thought of bringing Sven and Anthony to Bear House, but had decided to delay the move for now. There were no evident reasons for them to do so and it could lead to complications. Sven knew there was another boy in his life; he had told him that much on their first night of love. It wasn't so for Anthony yet. How would they relate with each other? He felt that the situation in the school was shifting. His relationship with Carl was getting difficult for no apparent reason. His hero status earned after the Nakata incident had been diminished after the Aims fiasco. He did not want to risk being exposed now more than ever.

He wanted those boys with him so much. To be deprived of them now that he had known that bliss was an ache, a torture to have them so close, yet so far. But he had been right to avoid any meetings at night with either of them, too much to do and once again, too many kids with weapons. Their fingers on the triggers made any encounter in the dark a risk he did not want to take.

Sven was only a few feet away, preparing to use a Colt. He still felt the viselike grip of the boy's hole, and his desire for a renewed experience was hurting him. He knew the boy had not enjoyed it, and that it heightened his arousal. The boy's willingness to accept some pain and discomfort to please him was a formidable sensation, not found with Anthony, who simply shared his pleasure. Sven had given himself to the man, totally, and Miles wanted to show him how much he now cared about him, how grateful he was. Of course, he also wanted to fuck him silly at the first chance. These feelings were contradictory. He could not deny each one of them though.

But for now, he had to focus on his duties.

Bob had wanted to try Louise's crossbow, saying that he felt a strange attraction to the weapon. It was a fascinating object; he had seen it at work in that zombie show he had been forbidden to watch at home. Miles had borrowed it and seen its usefulness. It was silent and quite effective at a good distance. Still, he thought it was a bit too big for the boy to handle. To his surprise, Bob got to it effortlessly, even reloading looked easy for him, when in fact, it required a lot of strength, and his first few shots went straight into the target.

"You're good Bob; we could try to find one for you if you want."

The boy's smile was enough of an answer. "Sure, I would love to get one, Mister Dunn."

Miles had discovered that beyond his good looks, he could be quite charming too, and also that when focused on a task he lost his usual restlessness, as he had shown during the training.

"Anyone else want to try it before we start to shoot some rounds off?" asked Miles, and nine hands were raised right away. "Walt, watch them. Careful guys, those bolts are not toys."

They had set a second raid scheduled for the following day, this time to the food depot. Their visit had been announced; the numbers and radio frequencies given by Senator Forest had their utility. They were to meet up with a National Guard unit there. Miles knew the military presence would not last much longer and when gone, the place was sure to be looted. He expected they would let them get some canned food and some of the perishable stuff before it went to waste. They would take vehicles since they knew the roads were passable and would need them to bring back as much as possible.

He planned to take some of the boys along with the few available adults. Anthony and Sven had shown good aptitudes with their handling of weapons, and though he was still not sure to take them along, he thought it could be a nice and clever way to spend some time with them, let them become acquainted. There was very little risk; he could add them to the group.

Among those that were to accompany him were Greg, Lewis Silva, Sam Lewis, Pablo Munez, and two other new prefects. Carl had insisted they had to build some experience; very soon, they would have to be the spearhead of the School. Miles had to accept that. Even if he did not like their vibes, they had also shown good aptitudes. To have Greg and Anthony armed and together wasn't very appealing or the best arrangement and he had to keep that under consideration. Still, he would love to have the kid with him.

Miles was abruptly brought back from his reflection when they suddenly heard a loud crash coming from the main gates, followed by far off shouts. Then the emergency bell started sounding.

Miles and Louise started at a run, weapons ready, and made their way to where the crowd had gathered. The gates had been unhinged on one side and were halfway to the ground. It had been hit by a pickup truck. One boy, with a big lump on his head and a bleeding lip, was trying to crawl out. Behind the boy were two younger ones, who were seemingly unhurt.

The pickup was fairly damaged and smoke was pouring out of the radiator. Miles sent for an extinguisher while getting the kids out and away. The injured boy looked to be about twelve and was slightly confused, repeating the same phrases continuously.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry? I missed the brakes; we were going too fast, we were going too fast. I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry son, it's okay, we'll take good care of you," Miles told him, then turned to the nearest prefect. "Get Miss Cahill, I want his head checked!"

The three boys were obviously siblings, the youngest about seven, the other more like ten.

"Where are you coming from, what are you doing here in that pickup?"

"I'm Mikey, and those are my brothers, Chad and Louis," said the middle one. "Our father put us in the truck and told us to drive here to get help. He's sick, like our mom."

The boy ended his tirade with a sob, fresh tears glittering in his eyes.

Miles went to inspect the damaged gate and car and gave orders to clean out the mess, then went back to check the kids again. The boy's injuries appeared light, and after waiting for Shirley for some time, he decided finally to have them taken to Bear House where he would visit them later.

***

Miles learned their sad story from Walt. Life outside the School was becoming difficult. Food distribution was scarce. People were getting sick, more and more of them. Sick and then crazy, they attacked and killed everyone. Their father had learned from experience what was to happen if his boys stayed in the house. Despite the lack of communications, news got around; they were part of a close-knit community of farmers. It had already happened on many instances around them. He knew that if he did not send them away, as sick as they were, he or his wife would eventually try to kill them.

They had heard that some, to avoid that terrible prospect, had left their houses and gone as far away as possible. Some had sent their family to neighbors, relatives, friends, and had given them weapons to defend themselves. But there was no safe answer to the problem. Kids, or rather boys, seemed mostly unaffected by the flu and now quite a few of them faced such a situation going from shelter to shelter. Their father knew of the school only a few miles from their home and thought it was the safest place possible. Too sick to drive and unwilling to expose them further, he had packed them in the truck and had given the keys to his eldest.

Walt had put them in his room, mattresses had been added which made the place look a bit crowded. The three boys were seated together, staring out the window with forlorn looks upon their grubby faces. The taller one stood up when he saw Miles, still looking a tad guilty.

"I'm sorry, I know how to drive but I must'a missed the brake. I dunno know really," he said and then added, "name's Chad."

"Pleased to meet you, Chad" replied Miles.

He extended his hand towards the boy, who smiled and shook it. The boy was definitely a farmer; his hands were rough and calloused.

"This here's my brother, Fiddle," Chad motioned towards the youngest child.

"Fiddle?"

Chad laughed.

"His name's actually Louis, but we call him Fiddle. He got that nickname from our ma on account of he's always fiddlin' around with himself."

Miles turned and looked at the boy and sure enough, the kid's hand was down the front of his pants.

"He ain't jackin' off or nothin' like that, he just likes ta put his hand down there 'cuz it makes him comfortable. Mama says that some kids suck their thumbs, other kids have a stuffed animal or a security blanket, but Fiddle sticks his hand down his pants when he's feelin' anxious-like."

The boy named Fiddle grinned sheepishly and pulled his hand from the front of his pants. Miles reached out to shake it, but the boy blushed a little and chuckled.

"I don't think ya wanna shake this hand, mister," the boy said.

On the contrary, thought Miles, you have no idea just how much I'd actually enjoy that. Chad motioned towards the middle boy.

"An' this is Mikey," Chad said, and with a mischievous smile added, "but we tend to call him Cowboy."

"Aww, shut up!" piped up the younger boy.

Chad and Louis guffawed at this, and Mikey's ears turned dark crimson. An annoyed frown spread across the boy's face and he stamped his foot in anger.

"You know I hate that name!"

The two brothers laughed again, and Miles tried to diffuse the situation.

"Why do you hate that name? Cowboy seems like a pretty cool nickname to me."

The boy's face darkened until it matched the redness of his ears. He seemed so angry that he almost looked like he was about to cry.

"Aww, fuck OFF! Alla' yous!"

With that, the angry young boy turned on his heels and stalked off. Miles looked at the two laughing brothers with confusion.

"Why does he hate that nickname?"

"Sorry," said Chad, in between laughs, "ain't for me ta say. You'll have ta ask Cowboy about that yerself."

"I'll have to do that," said Miles.

The boys chuckled again, and Miles' heart leapt in his chest. They were a couple of tough farm boys, no doubt about it, but they were so adorable. Already he could tell that Chad, the eldest, was a natural leader, and that the youngest, the one nicknamed Fiddle, admired his older brother. In his opinion, Mikey, not the prettiest, Chad won that one, was certainly the cutest of all three, but as of yet remained a mystery. He seemed to suffer from the typical middle child syndrome, and Miles wanted to get to know him a little better.

He would have liked nothing more than to stay and talk with the boys, but he still had work to do and a schedule to keep. He would see a lot of them anyway in the next days.

"Alright guys, I'm afraid I have to run. Make yourselves at home, and let Walt know if you need anything."

"Awwright, mister…"

"Dunn," said Miles.

"…Mister Dunn," Chad said and held his hand out again.

Miles shook it and then turned and left the boys to settle in. As he resumed his duties, he kept thinking of them and he wondered about Mikey and how he had gotten his nickname.

***

Mikey angrily kicked at a rock and watched as it bounced across the alley. He didn't know why his stupid brothers had to bring up his dumb nickname, especially when they knew it pissed him off. It had only been that one time but they just couldn't let it go. It was easier for them, since they were both always together and had each other; Mikey didn't have anybody.

As he stalked across the school, the memory of his hated nickname flashed through his mind. It had been last year, when he had been almost ten. Having lived his whole life on a farm, Mikey knew all about the birds and the bees. He had witnessed the pigs going at it, as well as some of the other animals. His mama had explained what they were doing when he was only four years old, and ever since, he had secretly enjoyed watching whenever any of the animals mated.

His brothers were usually gone, off playing together, and his mama was always busy with the housework, so Mikey typically roamed the farmlands and the nearby woods by himself. When he was around eight years old, he discovered that sometimes his prick would stand straight up, and when it did, it felt good when he rubbed it.

He especially liked to rub it during the springtime, when the animals were in heat. He would go out alone to the pastures every day, waiting for one of the pigs or bulls to get horny. When they would mount the other animal, Mikey would drop his overalls and begin to rub himself as he watched them screw. He especially liked watching the bulls; their dicks were so huge, almost twice as long as his arm. It would be over too quickly, unfortunately, as they would give one sharp inward thrust, and it would be over.

After a couple of years of watching, Mikey decided that he wanted to give mating a try for himself. The cows were all too tall for him, so he settled on a young calf. He led it behind the barn, dropped his overalls to his ankles, and went at it. The calf's anus felt rubbery around his stiff little cock, and there was more than enough wiggle room. He had been humping the calf for a good five minutes when he started to feel something building up in his loins. It felt way better than it ever had before, and he moaned loudly as his dick began to buck and throb on its own.

Not five seconds after that amazing feeling, he heard some giggling behind him. Whipping his head around, he found his brothers peeping at him from around the corner of the barn and snickering into their hands. He could feel his face flush hot as he turned and tried to run off, away from their mockery. His overalls were still around his ankles though, and he fell face first onto the dusty ground. As he jumped up from the ground, he pulled his overalls up around his hips and ran off, his penis still hard as a rock and bouncing around above them.

His brothers had never let him live it down and they took to calling him "Cowboy." They never told his mother where the nickname came from when she asked, but they would always chuckle. They knew that whenever they wanted to piss him off, all they had to do was call him that stupid nickname and he would fly into a rage.

"Heyyy there Cowboy, how's the calfin' business?" they would tease. "Get any good rides lately? Does mama cow know her calf has a human boyfriend? Didja buy him dinner after you was done?"

They would erupt into gales of laughter while Mikey shouted at them, cursing them and calling them every dirty name he knew.

He had tears in his eyes just thinking of it. He had been walking all that time oblivious of the looks from the Saint Xavier boys that he met along the way. Some smiled at him or greeted him with a wave, but more than a few were rather unfriendly and some called him names. Names like, "hick," and "dirty redneck." Big ones wearing fancy looking suits glared at him angrily and he suddenly felt out of place, not too safe walking alone in this strange school anymore. Turning around, he retraced his steps, deciding that he preferred his brothers' teasing to any nasty encounters with these strange rich kids.

***

Cole, outside the Gymnasium, watched the young farmer boy pass in front of him with his head and shoulders hunched over as if he feared being punched. In fact, now that he thought about it that might just be what he needed himself: to punch, kick, break something… or someone. His father had been feverish and sent there, he was waiting for Shirley to give him some news. Cole was angry and miserable. He knew what getting sick meant for his father. He would lose him; he would probably die in the next few days. He had lost his mother a few months back, and the wounds were still fresh. His father was far from perfect. He knew things were wrong with him even if he tried to hide it. They had fights all the time, but he was his father, the only family he had left.

He was going to pass away, only a few days after Cole had accepted to pay his debt by prostituting himself. He felt so ashamed! Even worse, Shirley had participated in all of it. He had been so proud, so happy to find someone he could confide in, to ease his pain. An adult, a woman who had singled him out, who had seemed charmed, seduced even. How stupid he had been.

True, he was the star of the swimming team and everyone wanted to be friends with him. But deep down he was hurt; he had not accepted his mother's loss and betrayal. It had been six months since he had last heard from her. She did not leave him even an address or phone number. Then his father begged him to do those nasty things. That was when Cole discovered that Shirley was part of it all, giving him up on a whim as if he was worthless.

He had dreamed of having her for himself that day; how foolish he had been. He had met with her in the infirmary, and she said she had a way to help him with his father's problems. At first, it had been wonderful. He had been treated as an equal, as a grown up. He had been afraid since it was his first time, but she had been gentle and considerate. She complimented him on everything he did, even when he knew he was being clumsy, too eager, or rushed. Those intense feelings had let him forget all of his worries, she had taken him in her mouth, then guided him and shown him how to enter her, where it was soft moist and hot. She taught him how to ride her, and he came twice.

Then she told him she had to prepare him for what was to come next. He didn't quite understand what she meant but was in bliss and never thought of questioning her actions. She had opened a drawer and taken out a kind of belt and a tube of some gel.

"My time to ride you Cole; you don't mind, do you?"

He remained silent, still not quite understanding what this was all about.

"Don't worry, love, I'll use a small one. Get on your back and raise your legs."

He obeyed by rote. She equipped herself, lubed the dildo, and started pushing it into him.

"Greg will be taking over in a moment. It will not be much different, you'll see. I told him to go easy with you since it's your first time. He is a good friend of mine so he'll listen. After that, you'll be part of the club. I'm sure you'll soon learn to love it, and you'll still be my very special boy."

She entered him with a venomous smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"You're a big boy, you can take it. Don't resist it… just relax. Remember that your father's debt is being paid. I told you I would solve your problem. This is the best way, just think of your father. You simply have to behave yourself."

What did she say? He must have misunderstood; this was not possible. She told him she liked him, even loved him! How could she do this? He felt like crying, the pain was nothing compared to the feeling of betrayal. He was losing ground, dissolving. She was holding him, kissing his mouth, eyes, face, obviously enjoying herself.

"Here's Greg," he heard in a daze. His head was forcefully turned to the right, and immediately he felt something hot, salty and at the same time rigid and flexible entering his mouth, it oozed some gooey liquid at the tip. No, it could not be!

"Let's teach you how to suck cock, boy."

Cole felt desperate, he could not think. He wanted to bite but had no strength, no will anymore,

"Watch your teeth, be a brave boy. No tears now. You'll see; you'll learn to like it, and don't forget we're making a movie-look."

Greg pointed to a camera three feet from the bed. Cole was now in a panic.

"I'm delighted that Shirley thought of me to be your first. Soon, everyone in the club will want a piece of your ass or mouth, you'll see. You'll be very much in demand, so popular, so much fun ahead!" Greg looked at Shirley and said, "Are you done Shirley? I want a good fuck. He has no talent yet as a cocksucker, but his ass looks like it is to die for."

The memory was too painful, so he stopped it there. He had no way out, and not because of his father anymore. It had been meaningless, he had done it all for nothing, but now, if anyone saw that movie, he would die of shame. He was seething with hatred but did not want to show it. How could he get out of this situation? He hoped the flu would take them all. Better yet, he hoped that he would be the next one to get sick and die.

***

In no time, everyone had taken to calling the three brothers "the farm boys," or sometimes "the refugees." They had become refugees in their own country, even their own state. They had settled in with Walt's group for the moment and Miles had accompanied them to the dining hall for dinner that evening.

He had not found an occasion to meet with Anthony yet, but he still hoped for a quick encounter in one of the restroom stalls: not the most romantic or desirable place to be, but a necessity nonetheless. His office wasn't that far away though, and he thought that perhaps something could be done about it. They had already exchanged quite a few glances and both were well aware of the other's expectations.

Miles was about to stand and give Anthony the signal when Grayson Driscoll came to his table to say that he and Carl Fisher were needed at the Gymnasium. It could not be good news. After two weeks and already many deaths, they knew how to recognize the signs that the end was near, that the rage was coming; it usually lasted for a few hours before the end.

When he arrived at the Gym, he saw that Daniels was strapped to his bed, breathing heavily and racked by coughing fits. Miles walked over and stood next to Abrams beside the bed, while Carl and Shirley talked over by the door.

Daniels was giving his advice and instructions between the coughing fits that had racked him sporadically since Miles' arrival,

"You must keep the boys together. That's their only chance of making it through."

"I know that," answered Miles, "you should save your strength."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that Miles. I can call you Miles, you don't mind?"

"Yes, of course you can, what is your first name by the way? I don't think I've ever heard it."

"Michael, it's been ages since anyone called me that but I'll be glad if you do. At least, for the time I got left."

"I will."

"The School has all the resources needed to help those boys become capable, smart, decent young men, and to take their places in the world. Where is Carl? He should hear this too. It's…" his cough took the rest of the phrase.

"You should rest and stop worrying," Miles said, signaling Carl to join them. "You haven't ceased lecturing us since you got here."

Daniels smiled at that. "I haven't seen that much of you, and Carl even less. This place isn't too welcoming, better to avoid it, I am just doing my job, you know. "

"And doing it well," said Abrams.

"Won't be for long now, unfortunately, perhaps it would be better if you helped make it go faster a bit Miles, when I go to the other side."

"What do you mean, Michael?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean Miles… I think we already discussed the question."

"Yes, but we never got to a conclusion."

"Perhaps, now is the time. Ah, Carl you are here. Now I am asking you, the two…three of you, rather. It's not like you were deciding for me. Don't let me suffer uselessly and above all, don't let me put anyone else at risk."

"Not an easy thing you are asking Daniels… Michael. I need to discuss it with the others first. You can certainly understand that."

"I certainly do, and Miles, I trust you to do what is right."

The previous day one of the patients had turned. After five hours, he was still alive when the phase usually lasted two to three hours before death. Not only that, but it seemed that this one was gaining strength, with no sign of a fever and waning symptoms. Miles was called and it was soon clear that this was one of the true ferals, which now roamed the streets of many cities.

Not really human anymore? They had reinforced his bindings but finally Miles took it upon himself to kill the man with his knife, not wanting to take a risk, even if Shirley had wished to have him wait, curious to see how the disease evolved. What worried Miles was that the man had fallen sick only three days before; it seemed that the flu phases of evolution were getting shorter and unpredictable, or perhaps it was only so with the ferals. This was quite a problem since it made their security measures less effective.

The discussion was serious but short and all agreed to Daniels' demand.

Miles stayed with him, holding his hand and talking with him until he turned an hour later. Miles knew he was gone but it took him a few minutes before he was able to draw his knife and use it to end the headmaster's life with a stab through the heart, with much sadness. He closed his eyes, pulled the cover over Michael's head, and left silently. He did not have to tell anyone, Abrams, who had been waiting outside, took charge of that.

***

Miles had taken refuge in his office. He did not want to see anyone in his present mood. He was heavyhearted and furious, against himself, and against the world. He had killed a few times before, it was a part of his job and he had accepted it. He had done it already the previous day, but it was nothing like doing it to someone you liked and respected, even if you knew it was the right thing to do. Even if that person had demanded that you do it. The boys were all probably asleep now, so he could not go see Matthew in his room. Nor could he see Sven or Anthony, even though he knew being with one of them was the only thing that might cheer him up.

He tried to work on the plans for their next expedition to the food depot, check who would go with him, what vehicles they would take, how to get there safely. He still wondered if he should bring Sven and Anthony with him.

There was a knock on his office door. He hesitated before answering but finally said:

"You can come in."

It was Carl Fisher.

"I have been told that Daniels has left us."

"Yes, about an hour ago."

"This is terrible news. He was the heart of the school. I'll arrange for a ceremony and proper burial tomorrow, if you agree."

"Of course, you are the new headmaster now. I'm just the security guy."

"You are much more than that, Miles, there are few of us left, and you will have to become a lot more than that."

"If you say so."

"I do. First, you are like me, and some of my close friends here. Anthony has told me everything, Miles. At first, I thought you were a menace for my very exclusive club, but not anymore. Now you are one of us. Yes, I like boys too. I have always loved them and I did all that was necessary to be able to indulge in them as much as possible, in every sense of the term."

Miles had done his best to keep a straight face and show as little emotion as he could. That was it, there would be no going back; he had been unmasked. His most intimate self had been revealed. Anthony had been Fisher's pawn; he was at the mercy of that man. But wait a minute…Carl Fisher was like him, he had just said so. Surprisingly, Miles felt no panic. On the contrary, he felt strangely undisturbed, almost at peace.

"You can stay silent Miles. I know how difficult it is for those like us to accept who they, their desires, the dangers that surround us at all times, the permanent stress. The occidental world has made monsters of us all, including those who never touched a child in their life. This was not your case, I believe, but it also seems that until I sent Anthony to test you on the matter, your life had been miserable. I am glad I was the one who helped you realize what you had missed; take you of your shell. Now that you have tasted the real thing, I am sure you want more. It has always been so with me."

"So the club is real, your creation?"

Miles listened and tried to avoid interrupting, letting Carl deliver his speech. After the shock of being unmasked, he had fast regained all his senses. He knew there was no need to deny anything. He did not feel any real resentment for Anthony, who had already partially confessed his role a few days before. Now, Miles saw the whole picture and was certain that the boy had been following orders. He did not know Miles then, and Miles could not say the boy had really betrayed him. Anyway, he clearly had since changed his allegiance, thanks to Greg's actions.

"Ah, you've found your voice again, Miles. Yes, it was all my doing, my creation, nothing goes on in this school without my knowledge and you can be a part of it Miles, profit from it, like I have done for more than twenty years now. You know Anthony but there are many other boys that we can share with you."

"How many?"

"I see I've caught your interest. Assuming your tastes, I think you like them rather young. We have more than ten pretty ones immediately available and under fourteen years old. You just have to ask, most will be very willing to entertain you."

"How much, what will it cost me?"

"Cost you? Nothing of course, we have so much in common, we are beyond that point. That was the old world; a new world is awaiting us. If we survive, and I am sure we will, we could craft a great future together, the club being a rough draft of it. I want to go to the next level, to shed the mask that society imposed on us, to make us the new elite, respected and coveted."

"An appealing program."

"More than appealing, a perfect one, and with your help and our influence in the school we can turn the table, shape the future to serve our wishes, bury the prejudices that made your life hopeless. First in this school, of course, but there is no reason to limit ourselves; we could establish that new society far beyond our walls. Think of it, we will be in a world of boys with very few women left, even those who do not share our tastes will follow us, and they won't have a choice. We will create a new Sparta here, and spread this model as far as possible."

"That would be a sweet revenge."

"Yes, exactly, we are beginning to think the same way, I see." The word revenge had worked like magic. Immediately Carl was relaxed, almost at ease and ready to confide. "You and I were pariahs in the old world. You were never able to accept or experience who you truly are, hiding your thoughts and emotions. I was more lucky and audacious; I found a place and devious ways that gave me the opportunities I needed. I was forced to use all means at my disposal to obtain what I wanted – boys – and I did it. If there is a right and wrong, I must recognize I was often in the wrong, but what of it? What choice did I have? I had to protect myself, make sure that I would be safe as long as I respected very strict rules. It has worked to this day. I had decided to take what society was denying me any right to get. I have no remorse and I plan to persevere in that direction on a much larger scale. There is nothing to stop us anymore."

"Nothing, except death."

"No Miles, death is not for me, not for you. That's the first thing I had to decide. No fear; we look forward to the future, a bright future for us!"

"I like it, a new Sparta."

"Good, you are hooked, I see. But there is a sad reality for us too, one that you have not been exposed to yet. You see, boys are like butterflies that live only for a day and that you have to catch right at that moment. Their appeal lasts only for a few years, then they change; they grow hair, their voice breaks, they lose their innocence, a very relative concept, all that makes them attractive to us. For me, "Greek love" is a farce. Boys are multifaceted and changing creatures, searching for the immediate satisfaction of their basic needs. Exceptions are few. This current situation is a dream come true, with more boys available than we can consume, and a constant renewal, with the ability to pick and choose any child we fancy. Again, if we joined forces that world would be ours."

Miles remained silent for a moment as he pondered Carl's words. He could not say that he wasn't tempted, for any boylover this proposition was a dream come true. He knew there were pitfalls, too. Carl needed him, it was clear that despite what he just said, there would be a price to pay. He moderated his talk but the world he described would not be made of love and passion but of greed and force. He would not ask, he would take, he would not care about right or wrong, he wanted his revenge, his epiphany. Miles had seen his change of attitude as soon as he had pronounced the word. There was a rage that had been brewing for years and that was now ready to express itself.

Would he take that same road? It was certainly appealing. Was his love for Sven and Anthony genuine, or just an excuse to make his behavior and cravings acceptable? He didn't really know. What he knew was that his previous experiences with prostitutes had been far from satisfying. Hurting them, treating them like objects whose only function was to serve his lust had left scars in his heart. Nothing like what he had shared with Sven and Anthony. He still cringed when he thought of what Greg had done to the boy.

He also knew that the world was changing, that it would become hard and dangerous. That the values cherished-with a lot of hypocrisy-of democracy, equality, fraternity, liberty, would soon be forgotten. Perhaps Carl was right; it was time for revenge, to have the life he wanted with no care for the consequences, a life worth living, one that could be very short, too. Furthermore, he saw no reason to oppose Carl at this stage.

"I think I don't really have a choice. As long as I can give my word on the decisions we take, I'm in."

"I was certain of that. I'll let you think about it some more and then I'll give you all the details, how I plan to proceed. I'll welcome any suggestions you might have. It is too late tonight but as soon as tomorrow, if you wish, I'll present you with one or two boys that you'll be able to enjoy for the night. It will be my welcome present to the club, the first of many."

"How can I refuse such a generous offer?"

"It's a deal then. I'll pick a good one, perhaps Riichi. He is a delight. Japanese boys are quite interesting you'll see, and that's only the beginning. If all goes well, in the next few days we will shed our masks and soon Anthony could be your live-in boy until you get tired of him, if you ever do. He is one of the best and he seems to have taken a real liking to you. I know him well. We will do great things with you Dunn, I have so many ideas."

Miles guessed at his expression that some of those would not be to his liking, but he had decided to play along for the moment and take what was offered. It would be stupid to do otherwise.

"I am still convinced that you've kept some of those precious files for yourself, Dunn, but it doesn't matter. I am sure that you won't hesitate to repay me for what I have in store for you. I'll add one more thing, young Matthew Perry. I am very interested in that young man. I would love to know him more intimately, and I would be very thankful if you could achieve something like that. I believe you are very close to the boy?"

"No, not that close, Carl, I'm afraid that won't be possible. His father entrusted him to me and there is no sign that he would be interested anyway."

"Too bad, but you never know. What I always say is, never say never. This formula will certainly become more relevant as time passes, and there is no harm in trying."

"No, of course not."

"I'll see you at breakfast then."

***

After Carl's visit, Miles felt strangely clear-headed. It was the first time anyone said to his face that he knew of his sexual preference. For the first time, he met with someone with whom he could share the desires and emotions that he thought would be kept secret forever.

For a moment, all he wanted was to run after him and talk about these matters for hours, to learn of the man's experiences, listen to his voice telling him things he had never hoped to hear from another human being.

Yes, perhaps that was his destiny; perhaps he had been wrong all along. Somewhere deep inside there was that same craving. To take and satiate himself without a thought for the boys that served this purpose. He knew that feeling well and on the few occasions he had had sex with boys, he had fought with it more or less successfully. He wasn't quite sure why. Was it to preserve the boys, or was it to preserve himself from the consequences of his acts?

He had to think it over and make the right choice. Side with Carl and embrace that craving, open the gates and let himself be transported, or stay in control and do what he thought was right.

Again, he wondered what his real feelings were for Sven, Matthew, Bob, Johnny … Anthony, and all the others?

Did he really care about them, or did he simply want to get in their pants? Perhaps what he called love was just an alibi to justify his actions.

The answer did not come easily; he needed time to process it all.

He suddenly felt elated; whatever the answer, he would soon not have to hide anymore. He would be able to bring Sven to Bear House, and Anthony too. He felt attached to the boy despite his double game. Their lovemaking had not been fake; his confidences and questions had been for real, and he might as well say it, Anthony was a great fuck. Perhaps, if he was honest with himself and until he knew if he was going to survive that flu or not, that was the most important point.

***

Ke had been apprehensive at first of his move to Eagle House, but his first days there had been rather nice, with everyone acknowledging him and his "courage" during the attack. Greg, at every occasion, told the others that he had fought and kicked Aims to the end, showing no fear. It was not true, of course, but it felt good to hear it.

Quite naturally, Ke had started to become Greg's factotum, trying to anticipate all his needs and make himself indispensable. He had soon been able to witness the prefect's two facets. The perfect student, admired by all and a constant example for everyone to follow, and the cold, uncompromising leader of an elite group that reigned over a large part of the school. In his present state of mind, both appealed to him; the dark side perhaps even more than the other. He thought that nothing could stop or intimidate his new protector, he liked the blind faith that some of his followers expressed in his presence. He had made the right choice.

There were also advantages to his new position. He benefited from this simple association and had gotten a taste of everything it brought, lines dissolved when they appeared, boys he didn't know welcomed him and behaved as if he was a force to be reckoned with. He had access to everything he could desire and his sweet tooth was well taken care of, despite the rationing that had been put into effect.

The only thing he had some difficulty with was the sex. Since the first day, he had understood that Greg and his pals were using some of the younger boys for their satisfaction. He had been shocked, he had no interest in that, and so far had stayed away from such activities, against Greg's desire, who wanted to see him participate.

Greg and the others, it appeared, did not really care to hide that occupation anymore and had even recently started to proselytize it with some success among the prefects. They seemed to have a good number of willing boys to offer. There was clearly a purpose in that move and Ke was at the same time curious and concerned to see where it would lead. One thing he was certain of, he did not want to be involved in the sex part.

Chapter 13

The next morning Miles woke up not really a new man, but something had definitely changed. Nothing was resolved, but his take on life was more optimistic. If only for the time he had left, he had a good chance of openly enjoying what had been refused to him so far. He had Sven and Anthony to love and would be able to taste a few others along the way. Whatever his ultimate decision concerning his association with Carl Fisher, he would refuse nothing of what was offered.

Despite the hardships that he knew awaited him, he had not felt such peace of mind for a long time.

Then at breakfast, some of his old jitters came creeping back. He was trying to decipher a difference of attitude or looks in all those that surrounded him. Who knew? Had Fisher already told some of them? Who was "like him" as Carl had said? Who exactly belonged to the club? He would soon know if Carl's intentions became a reality.

Then other thoughts came to him. Which of those boys around him were available? Which ones would he soon get to know intimately? It was dizzying to look at them and imagine all that he could do that had been forbidden only a few hours ago. He tried to reason himself to think only of Sven and Anthony, but to no avail. The urge and the craving were much too strong. He gulped down his breakfast and escaped the cafeteria to isolate himself and try to chase the lurid images that were assaulting him.

Daniels burial would take place after lunch; Carl was taking care of the details. That morning, Miles conducted drills with the boys, in preparation for the upcoming raid into town. He had decided to take Sven and Anthony with him to the food depot, and he hoped they would get along well, become kind of friends, and would not feel any resentment or jealousy toward each other. Then there was Walt to take into account, since he was also participating in the expedition. Would he accept the man's relation with Sven? A complicated situation but nothing compared to the perils that surrounded them. Miles did not want to lose any more occasion to be with them. He would also have to talk with Greg and put things straight with him, explain to him that those boys and all those associated with him were to be left alone.

***

The morning was once again dedicated to the weapons training of the boys. They were now going into the second phase, having selected those that would be the spearhead of the school's fighting force. After some respite, his mind was again invaded by a vast array of questions and doubts as to his future and the decisions he would have to take. For this reason, he was not as focused as he should, but his years of experience compensated for it. He was still able to be particularly attentive to the six boys set to go with him the next day to the food depot, Greg among them. Despite some behavior problems in large part due to the prefect's influence, they performed quite well.

After dismissing the group, he told Greg to stay for a few words. He told him he had met with Carl and that from now on they were to work together. He wanted Greg to change his brash attitude. Even though there would be little risk, he knew there was no place for improvisation in the next day's expedition, and everyone had to be alert and ready. He trusted Greg to understand and show his leadership by keeping his friends in line.

The boy seemed genuinely attentive to his warnings and aware of his meeting with Carl. Wanting to test his new confidence, Miles added that Anthony and Sven would be participating in the raid and soon would be coming to live with him at Bear House; from now on, they were out of bounds for him. Without going into details, he did not hide the fact that he knew that Sven had endured Greg's gang bullying and more significantly, what the prefect had personally done to Anthony, He made sure Greg understood that he did not want to hear about such behavior again or there would be severe consequences, regardless of what Fisher said.

The prefect didn't show any guilt, shame, or fear. In fact, he showed no emotion at all, nor did he give any excuses. The prefect simply smiled casually and answered.

"You have good taste. I tried to lure Sven into the club and get him in my bed for the last six months. You surprised me. Has Sven agreed to it yet? Or perhaps you simply hope to bed him. It doesn't matter much to me now; it seems that boys will soon be an easy commodity. I can leave you that one."

Miles was again shocked by the easy, natural way in which it was said. Carl's entourage had none of his inhibitions and obsession for secrecy. He forced himself to answer.

"Actually, Sven's the one that came to me. He's already shared my bed."

"Lucky guy, virgins are the best, don't you think? So tight! So innocent! You'll have your hands full with those two."

"Certainly, I don't want any incident with Anthony. I'm warning you now; make sure you keep your distance."

"I'm not interested in him anymore, that's an old story now. I'll leave him alone."

Miles would have liked to teach him a lesson, now and then, wipe that cold smile from his face with his fists or by other means, but he was Fisher's boy, and had been for years. He was one of the most popular prefects among his peers. It was not possible, not now, not yet.

"It's in your best interests. That's settled then, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Miles was stunned by this last exchange. Was he actually talking-bragging-of bedding boys? Was all this for real? What need did he have to boast like that, and how absurd it had been to do it with Greg Stilson. He truly felt the radical change that was occurring around him. He was kind of lost, no longer knowing exactly what he could or couldn't say, and to whom. He had to get back to some kind of normalcy, so he decided to see Louise to talk it over.

***

Louise had also finished her duties for the morning. It had been exhausting work, and now they were done: all boys and faculty had passed their weapons tests and safety formation. It had been close to nonstop for three days. Still, it remained a priority after the recent events and what she had seen of the outside world. She knew they would have to be drilled again and again to obtain satisfying results but it would be at a more leisurely pace. They also had been able to select a few boys and faculty members that could ease some of the burden. She had forty-five minutes of free time and she planned to go see Lucent before lunch. Her horse's presence was always a powerful tool that helped soothe the stress and strain of such mornings. As she was leaving, she saw Miles Dunn coming towards her and she immediately understood that he wanted to have a serious conversation. Her lunch break would have to wait.

Miles was not his usual self. He was searching for his words, but Louise quickly understood what he seemed so perturbed about. They sat in the shadow of an oak tree and watched a few boys throwing and hitting balls on the baseball field that had temporarily reverted to its regular use.

"Carl has come for a visit, I see," she affirmed.

"Yes."

"He has plans for the school and its future, I presume."

"That was the message, yes."

"And he wants you to be a big part of it."

"That's what he says. You're good, almost seems like you were listening in on our talk."

"Even more than you could think," she smiled. "He told you that with your common affinity for boys, you were natural allies."

Miles was speechless for a moment. "Sorry, what did you say?" He was looking down, trying to hide his shame, and wishing he had misheard.

"You heard and understood perfectly what I said. You are both, how should I put it… pederasts, or perhaps boylovers, that's the term you'd rather use, isn't it? Whatever the name, it's all the same. Don't look surprised; I have worked in boys' schools for more than thirty years, and I have seen many men and even a few women of your kind over the years. The whole range, good and bad ones, active and inactive, obvious and less obvious, I know them all."

"How could you?"

"Now that you say it, I understand your reaction. Don't worry though, I've always kept to myself; I don't pry in the business of others as long as they leave me alone." She paused and looked towards the forest close by, "I'll tell you my story one day. Perhaps then you'll understand."

Once more, Miles was in such a state of shock that he never even thought of denying anything. Perhaps also he held the woman in too great esteem to try.

"And it doesn't bother you that I am… What you said I am."

She laughed. "There are much worse things, my dear Miles. We all carry our burdens… The point is that I think you are a good guy, as far as I know, and I know that Carl is a bad guy. Of that, I am sure. That's why I talk with you, offered you my help, and why I avoid him."

Miles was having his second shock in the last twenty-four hours, maybe even less than that! Louise knew who he was, obviously had known for some time, and thought nothing of it; or did she?

"But how did you know? What makes you say I'm a good guy? And Carl, what do you exactly know about him?

"I've been working closely with you for almost ten days now, that's enough to judge someone, even more so, in times of stress. I know you treat people and boys right, you are considerate and helpful. As for your liking of boys, it was quite easy to discern for someone like me. The other day when I overheard your exchange with young Anthony in front of the infirmary, it cemented the fact."

"And you said nothing to anyone." Miles still had difficulty understanding what was being said.

"Why would I? There were more pressing matters and you weren't planning on hurting the boy, were you?"

"Of course not! Well, not everyone would agree on that. They would consider it rape, even though he was willing. But what about Carl? From what I discovered, he was not only having sex with the boys but also had a wide range of activities."

"Honestly I thought of trying something for a time, but I wasn't sure I could do much. He is very cautious, never gets involved directly. He has support at a high level. And I had to think of the consequences for the boys involved. The trauma might have been greater than the gains. Until now, it was mostly sex games with manipulated but willing boys." She paused again to look around; there were a few boys playing that could be heard. "I'm afraid things might change drastically from now on. In fact, that's the reason why you wanted the conversation."

Miles was appreciative of the woman for showing intelligence, perspicacity and an astonishing tolerance on such matters. He definitely wanted to hear her story someday. He felt relieved, as if some of the weight of this familiar burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It was natural that Carl would accept him, being a boylover himself. But to find a similar attitude in Louise brought a totally different perspective to his relations with others.

"It's great that you have the answers Louise."

"Not all of them, unfortunately, I don't know if either of us will make it through the next few weeks. It is even more doubtful for me than it is for you since I'm a female. It would be extraordinary if I were still around then. On the other hand, I would not regret Carl's death. I would hate to leave you alone to deal with him, and I don't want to think what those boys would become if we both perished. I don't know of anyone that could match him.

"I have to say," Miles sighed, "I'm a bit confused. All my life I have played a role, hidden my true self; been unable to confide in anyone. And now, I'm being offered a new life, the life I have always dreamed of. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but I trust your instincts and I have the same gut feeling concerning Carl. I would add Greg Stilson; that one makes me uneasy. I think we should watch him, too."

"You're right, I should have mentioned him!"

"Let's say that, for now, I'll play his game, move along, and see who's on his side and where it goes. Perhaps it would be good if you looked distant for a time, disapproving of my decision to side with him. He will be making a speech soon, make his move. It will be interesting to hear what he tells the boys. He plans to confess his preference, as you call it, and that takes some guts, I can tell you. I'll follow suit if it works well. We will go from there, see who we can trust or not and what leverage we can get."

"I tell you, we will need to confront him, oppose him at some point. I'm sure of that."

"I don't think we can hope to win a confrontation any time soon, without support. He has many people with him; we have to wait until he makes a mistake. If he doesn't and we don't like the way it goes, we may have to leave the school."

"But abandon all those boys under his influence?"

"I don't like it any more than you, but what choice do we have? We could take some of them with us." Miles did not disclose yet the resources he could use from Perry's files but it was what had inspired those last words.

"We will see." There was a strong resolve behind those few common words: a hidden meaning that went very far. "I agree, from now on we avoid unnecessary conflict and reduce our contacts beyond our common work on the field."

"You know Walt Turner? I think he can be trusted."

"Yes, I know him well and I agree. I like him. He is good natured and reliable."

"I think he could be our go-between."

"Is that a proposition? …I'm sure you haven't seen the movie…?" she answered with a beautiful smile.

"The Go-Between? On the contrary, I did, my father… well, I'll tell you, someday."

"So you're like Alan Bates and I'm Julie Christie," Louise said with a lighthearted laugh. "A bit old for that though. We have a lot to tell each other. I Hope we will have the time."

"We'll do our best"

***

At lunch, Shirley announced more cases of the flu, one of them being Derek Palmer, and two more deaths. Carl did not comment but inquired about the well-being of the three little refugees. He said they would soon have to define the way outsiders should be treated from now on. If they had managed to find their way here, others would soon follow. Miles said he had taken care of the gate, which was again functional and could be closed. He was half listening, his mind wandering. The teachers' tables had cleared a lot since his arrival. He had not had the time to meet most of them, really. Elliot Lerher, who was the first to welcome him here at the cafeteria, was gone, as well as many others he vaguely remembered, some he had only seen in the gymnasium.

"What time would be best for you to enjoy my gift of the day?" asked Carl when the table was being cleared. A Japanese boy of about eleven with elfin features and slanted eyes was beside him. Miles did not answer right away, finding the question incongruous to their current conversation.

"Would you like another one?" Carl was frowning.

"He looks awfully young…"

"Yes, he looks so but he is thirteen, in fact. Quite convenient, don't you think? You like them young and hairless; he's perfect."

"Yes, of course, no problem at all, he'll fit in nicely. Name's Riichi, isn't it?" In fact, now that he could focus on the boy, he was already becoming erect. "Eight would be great since it's still light out. I don't want him wandering around the school grounds at night. We should meet in the infirmary tonight, better for discretion. We can spend as much time as I wish there, I'll just have to leave him during my second round and then I'll go back to him."

"That will work all right, and hopefully, in the next days, discretion will be a thing of the past, you'll see. But I understand your caution and I envy you; this will be your first time with him. He is a natural, full of surprises," he said, his hand petting the boy's plump bottom.

Carl didn't try to show any consideration for the kid; it was as if they were discussing the weather or rather, an anticipated future meal, nothing more. The boy had a half smile and did not appear concerned.

"I have set a little treat for myself tonight," Carl continued, "you are not going to be alone in discovering new delicacies. I have chosen little Enrico Silva as my main catamite. I played with him already last night for a long time. He not only looks very young, he is, just turned ten two months ago and I am totally under his charm. I'm afraid I won't be sharing him for quite some time."

Miles, unsettled by Carl's words, decided to cut the conversation short, "I'll go back to my duties Carl, if you don't mind. Good afternoon; and I'll see you later in the infirmary, Riichi."

"Yes sir," replied the boy, his voice showing a slight accent.

"I think you won't have much time for sleep, Miles," said Carl with a conniving smile." Ah, here comes Enrico, as you can see I made the right choice."

A small Latino boy was approaching the table. Miles did agree that he was very cute, a pretty face with golden skin, large ebony eyes and a trusting attitude that made you want to take him in your arms to cuddle. Without hesitation, Carl sat him on his knees and kissed him on the lips. They were seated in a place where only those closest to the scene could observe them, but still Miles left thinking that Carl was abandoning restraint all too quickly. He hoped it would be his downfall.

Getting back to work was a relief after this talk with Carl. He was still fascinated by the kindred soul that Carl could have been, but despite the chaos that had invaded his mind, he was disgusted by the man's attitude towards the boys. There was no love there, only a need to possess and exploit. He treated them like objects that could be discarded after being used. Perhaps that rejection was even stronger because for a time he had been like him, out of fear and shame, and he still felt the strong attraction that attitude could still represent for him. The feeling was intense because he knew that the craving he had often fought with was still very present, and could take him down a road he did not want to take.

***

One hour later the ceremony for Daniels' burial was taking place on the sports field not far from where, only a few days before, Tools' play had been performed. All those that were not held by vital functions were present. The emotion and pain expressed by everyone who participated in the ceremony seemed genuine, whether staff, teachers, or students. Headmaster Daniels had been loved and held in great esteem by all. Miles also took into account the devastating effect of the flu on everyone's morale. The dwindling number of adults among the participants was shocking evidence and a reminder that their chances of surviving the next few weeks were slim.

There were speeches by Carl Fisher and a few others; the one made by Rose Eldricht was particularly moving. Then, the body was lifted from the ground to be accompanied by only a handful of those present to the small makeshift cemetery that had been established close to the gymnasium. A few words were said again before the proper burial. The whole thing did not last more than forty minutes.

***

A few miles away it was a different story. Burt Algood was getting desperate. It had been more than a week now since that damn quarantine and his last fuck. The only problem was that no one was answering the phone anymore. In fact, the phone had not been working for three days in a row. His last attempt at intercourse with another neighbor had almost gotten him killed, and he had not left the house since. He was now stuck with ten kids and there was almost no food left. He was going crazy.

It had started with Ethan, who despite his warnings, and though it was strictly forbidden, still went on "explorations," as he called them. He was the one that brought home all the kids. He had found them in the streets or hidden in their homes. Their stories were never happy ones: they had escaped murderous parents, or, like Ethan, had been left alone to fend for themselves. There were quite a few more out there, the boy had told him, refusing to come with him, often too afraid to set a foot outside. He said they would have to sooner or later when they got hungry.

There were also other "things" out there, at first mainly looters, but then the ferals started to replace them. All day and night, he could hear shouts and shots, cries and even howling. Ethan told him there were bodies lying in the streets, houses on fire, and cars overturned in the middle of the road, just like in the movies.

TV was dead, no power, no air conditioning, and no internet. The kids were terrified, hot, and bored, a dangerous combination. The radio the boy had found was of no help. The same messages were constantly being repeated over and over. Burt had no idea what was going on in the world or even the next town, the next block. Was the army coming to save them as was being announced? He wanted to believe it but knew it was improbable.

It was difficult for him to get any time alone and find some self-made relief. He did not even have his magazines left; he had put them away because of the kids. All his porn was on the computer and he wasn't sure how long the battery would last. It was a nightmare.

The only good thing that had happened recently was when he discovered that same morning, two of the kids had left, one boy and one of the two little girls. They were way too young to be of interest for him anyway. Ethan said the girl might have been sick, so it was for the best, and brought Burt relief. He was certain he didn't want a case of the Shanxi flu under his roof.

The kids, of course, were his other worry. He had fled responsibility of any kind for thirty-five years. What was he going to do with them? And all the others out there, how to feed them, protect them. He should not care, but he did.

One of the kids had brought a gun but they had only eight bullets and he had never shot a gun before. He didn't even know where the safety switch was. He should have followed that woman the other day, she seemed to know what she was doing and had mentioned a safe place to take them to. He had heard of the school but it was at least ten miles away. They would need a vehicle since his Chevrolet could not hold ten kids, and they would need more weapons, or at least ammunition. He also regretted the missed sexual opportunity; she was rather old and bony, but still, a pussy is a pussy. To what extremes he had been reduced!

He decided that he would go with Ethan in the morning and try to find the things they needed, some food hopefully. It was vital anyway. He knew that the Warners and the Collinses had left, so they would hit those houses first. Ethan had gone out several times; he could tell him where to go next for more. Perhaps take Bradley too; at fourteen, he's almost as tall as I am. No, he had to leave him with the younger kids. Better if it is only the two of them. Discretion could be useful and Ethan was a smart boy.

Ethan…he was a pretty looking boy too, a bit girly with his long auburn hair, smooth skin, ruby lips, pert bottom… stop it right now Burt, you can't think of him like that!

Perhaps he could find some pussy too. That possibility caught his imagination and he suddenly wanted to go right away. Many of those ferals were women, there had to be some pretty ones like the one that tried to kill him. If he captured one…? What a crazy idea, he was really a desperate man!

***

Arthur Banks was about done with his guard duty at the main gate when he saw them coming down the road about twelve hundred feet away. He counted four of them on bikes, all boys.

He wasn't too sure at first if he should sound the alarm or not. They did not appear to be a menace; on the contrary, they seemed to be in need of help. Nonetheless, he followed the orders and gave the signal to sound the bell with his radio. That incident was somewhat a relief after four hours spent with Tanner Holt and his endless logorrhea. It had stopped thanks to the event, but only for a moment, and resumed as the alarm bell could be heard.

"Who do you think they are? They look young. Why are they riding bikes? Where do you think they're coming from? Should we shoot at them?" Tanner had raised his gun and taken the safety off.

Arthur, who had taken the habit of not listening to him, was almost too late.

"Damn, Holt, stop! Don't you have a brain up there? Put that safety back on and drop that gun. Don't you see they're kids?"

"Of course I have a brain. It's not because they're kids that they can't be dangerous. I just wanted to fire a warning shot to make them stop while we get some reinforcements."

"What's going on?" It was Greg Stilson with the emergency unit puffing along behind him; five boys, all with AR-15s. Miles Dunn wasn't far behind, slightly out of breath.

Arthur waited for him to get there before answering, but it wasn't really necessary. Everyone could see the four exhausted boys on their bikes now getting close to the gate.

"Do we open the gate?" he simply asked Dunn.

"Yes, do that Arthur. I don't think they're a menace. Make room for them."

As they pulled back, Greg exclaimed, "That's one of ours, that's Aiden Forbes!"

"You're right Greg; he was among those that left just before the quarantine, taken back by his parents." said Arthur.

The four boys were now almost at the gate. They were grimy, with dirty, frayed and torn clothes, obviously tired but also very much relieved to be there. The one they called Aiden, a brown haired boy of about fourteen was leading. Behind him was a lookalike of nine or ten years old, probably a younger brother. Beside him were two more sandy haired kids around ten or so, one slightly bigger than the other one. The latter two could also be Aiden's brothers or at least kin; and one could think friends of the family.

"Hello boys, glad to see you. Get off those bikes we will take care of you. Greg, take them to your house and see what they need. A shower seems required and probably some food. When they're finished, show them to the nurse if you think it necessary. Let them rest there and I'll come later to hear their stories."

As they dismounted silently and were being taken charge of, one of the sandy haired boys started crying, and was soon followed by all the others. They had clearly been through hard times even if none of them appeared wounded or in any real physical distress.

Greg was showing a surprising kindness towards them, completely out of character from what Miles knew of him; the prefect was more complex than one would think, it appeared.

"I didn't know if sounding the alarm was adequate," said Arthur meekly.

"It was; the simple fact of asking yourself the question in any situation means you need to do it. That's the simplest and safest answer. Never hesitate."

"Yes, sir," Arthur replied, sounding more confident.

***

After dinner, Miles visited the three student dormitories and the gymnasium, checking that everyone on duty was at their posts and that there were no problems that needed his attention. The visit to the gymnasium was painful, as usual. It had become for all a house of death and it took a heavy toll on those that worked there. He was very aware of that fact and had demanded to shift them around as often as possible. Shirley was in charge and the only one there every day, but he thought she did not linger much.

He first went to Eagle House to hear the new arrivals' stories. It was one of death and fear but at least the boys had an idea of where to find help and security, which was not the case of most of the others wandering outside the school's secure walls.

Their stories were probably very common these days. Parents falling sick and sending the kids to some friend or relative's house, houses that had been attacked by ferals or looters with the kids having to flee and then being separated from what parents or adults were left. They had been wandering in the deserted but dangerous streets for two days before finding the bikes and deciding to go to Saint Xavier, twenty miles away. They had been six at first; the two girls had fallen sick and had to be left behind. Miles did not ask for too many details, there was no need to have them reminisce too much about those hard times and heavy losses.

He went to Bear House last and checked on the three refugees there. Walt had taken them under his care and they slept in his room with Matthew, Johnny, and Bob. Mattresses had been brought in and Walt and the others were trying to cheer them up a bit, without much success.

Even after more than a day at Saint Xavier, they were indeed a poor sight: the youngest had tearstains on his cheeks and was asking when they could go back home and see their mother. The other two seemed to have understood that question would never get a positive answer, and the eldest was still apologizing for losing control of the truck. Miles trusted Walt and his bedmates to do their best for them.

He reminded Walt they would leave at eight a.m. for the raid and that he had to be ready by seven-thirty. Before he left, Matthew came to him for his evening hug that had become a habit of sort, and was now being imitated by Bob and Johnny. The three new boys followed suit, Miles quite smitten by such a show of affection. The last and smallest one lingered a bit more than the others, finding some solace in his strong arms and manly presence.

Thinking of the boy he would meet in the next few minutes, he wondered what was more important to him: having sex or having the affection of those boys? He decided that he wanted both and his resolve to get it all was reinforced.

Miles felt some trepidation when he arrived at the infirmary. He wanted the sex, needed it in fact since he had been in a state of arousal the whole afternoon. He had trained Dunn's warriors for an hour before dinner, the proximity of Sven and Anthony a constant reminder of his desires. Soon perhaps, he would be able to give in to them without fear and with everyone's knowledge; that was a strange concept and it was quite difficult to really believe it possible. He grudgingly had to recognize it would be mainly thanks to Carl Fisher.

But the wait would have to last some more days. He had to concentrate, give all his attention to the work at hand, particularly in making sure that the two boys that would accompany him the next day to the food depot mastered their weapons and would be able to behave adequately in case of an incident. He wanted to take as few chances as he could with those two.

To his frustration, there had been no moment for a short fling with Anthony this time.

The infirmary was as it had been left the last time he had met with the boy, the sheets crumpled with a smell he wanted to associate with sex. His arousal was immediate. There was no way he would refuse any opportunity for more. He really wanted all those boys that Carl had lured him with.

At five to eight, he had the surprise of seeing Anthony enter the room, followed by the Japanese boy.

"Do you mind having us both instead of just Riichi? I know you talked with Mr. Fisher, I want to make up for not telling you everything about the club and for trying to trap you after the soccer match, and even later. I didn't know you then. I'm sorry," he said in a rush, eyes cast down. "Also, I kind of missed you those last few days," he added, finally daring to give the man a timid glance.

The boy's declaration looked genuine and heartfelt to Miles. The boy had come into his arms while Riichi had stopped a few steps away, seemingly awaiting the outcome. Miles passed his hand affectionately through Anthony's lustrous black hair.

"No harm done, boy. I hold no grudge against you. You did what you were told, and I believe you, I know you're a good kid."

The boy lowered his eyes again.

"So you forgive me?" he said, sending a glance towards Riichi, who was observing the scene with interest.

"Yes, now it's different. That is behind us, we have to look forward, with whatever time I have left." The boy didn't know what to think of that last sentence and resorted to his usual behavior. He kissed the man and prepared himself to make out. Miles pushed him away gently: he had hesitated, but was sure it was for the best.

"Sorry, not tonight." The boy's face instantly showed a profound disappointment and surprise.

"What? Why?"

"It's not what you think, Anthony. I would have been delighted to have the two of you to keep me company. There is a precise reason; I wanted it to be a surprise until tomorrow morning, but I'll tell you now. I'm taking you with us on the raid to the food depot." The boy's face lit up right away. "You'll ride with me and a few others. Not only that, but if you agree, I would like you to come to Bear House and stay there to be close to me."

The boy was speechless for a few moments. "Do you really mean it? Or is it a joke?"

"It is no joke and I truly mean it. Why would I make a joke like that? I'm sure you have a good idea of how I care about you, and that you can understand why I want you to be rested and fit for tomorrow. Also, I don't want to send you back to your house at night, which means you can't stay here right now."

"I could sleep here, no one would notice… or you could escort me back safely later." The boy was clinging to the man, his will and desire was strong. Miles almost gave in but he finally stayed true to his initial decision.

"No, it's my turn to be sorry, but you can't stay tonight. Soon we will be together every night if you wish, but not this time."

"That's stupid; you'll be with Riichi anyway, what difference does it make if I stay?"

"Why him and not me?" replied Miles. "That's what you really want to say, isn't it? Let me tell you, again, I don't want anything bad to happen to you. The expedition tomorrow should be a simple and safe one but after you've served in my line of work, you know that there is no such thing. There's always a risk. I want you rested and ready for it, and the same for me. Having you two would be too much this night. It's unlucky, but it's true. To be sure, I would love to experience it though. Hopefully, some other time.

"Send him back then and keep me! Or perhaps you prefer his company?" Anthony would not let go, was it serious? Was it jealousy? The boy had some right to feel confused with the contradictory messages he had received almost at once, but Miles thought it was more like a game for the boy, a friendly tug of war.

"On the contrary, the problem is that I might not be able to control myself if you were the one to stay. I don't want our first night together to be compromised by my duties. I want it to be perfect. It will be very soon, I promise."

"Just a quick one then, like the other time. Please."

He almost won as he pressed and rubbed his slight body against Miles' own. The man needed to stop it before it was too late and he lost the battle of wills.

"Let's consider it an order then Anthony," he pulled away with a stern look too extreme to be serious. "What do you say?" Miles wanted to set rules with the boy, and one boy would definitely be enough for him this night.

"I guess I have no choice then, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep anyway after that and all you told me."

Anthony had stayed truly overjoyed and excited despite the unexpected rebuff. His feelings of insecurity were acute. He had no news from his parents and felt an uneasiness now among the club and at Eagle house, where Greg's influence was even stronger. Now he wanted to believe that Miles Dunn would be his new anchor, worth many sacrifices, and the statements the man had made were enough, things the boy had never dreamed would be said about him…to him. The important point too, was that he liked the man, wanted very much to be close to him. This came from his gut, there was no reasoning to it.

"You don't mind that I spend the evening with Riichi?"

"No, I'm used to sharing as long as I get to go to Bear House."

"Good. Let me be honest with you, there is one more thing I have to tell you. You know there are other boys I am close to at Bear House and among Dunn's warriors. Does that bother you?" As soon as the words had been pronounced, Miles thought it was probably not the best time to discuss that point. Anthony could feel let down a second time, he should not have brought it up right now.

"You mean Sven? I could tell right away. There's something between the two of you, it stands out a mile when you know what to look for."

"You got me there Anthony," Miles was stunned, it seemed everyone could read his thoughts and feelings as if from an open book. Was he that easy to decipher? "You don't feel jealous?"

"Depends, if I share you with him would you share him with me? He is pretty cute."

Anthony was definitely full of surprises and did not react as a thirteen-year-old would be expected to.

"You'll have to ask him, I'm not even sure he'll agree to share me with you. He is not as versatile or knowledgeable as you are. I did tell him there was another boy though; I don't want to hide anything from the two of you."

"I think we'll get along fine. I hope so, anyway," he said passing his tongue over his lips, the meaning of which was well known to Miles by now.

"You little horndog! I hope so too, I'd hate to lose either one of you."

"So, you're sure I have to go?"

"Yes, it's for the best."

Anthony turned around ready to leave.

"Wait!" Miles had caught him and pulled him back, his hand tugging at his shorts belt. He embraced Anthony, kissing him deeply on the mouth.

"You're crazy, what are you doing?"

Miles' hand was undoing the shorts button and zipper.

"You won! You're right, I'm crazy for you, I'm crazy for boys. Just a quick one like you asked for. You didn't actually think I would let you go like that, did you?"

"You see, Riichi, I told you adults aren't reliable, they don't know what they want," and then, turning back to Miles, added, "Luckily for you I know exactly what I want."

Miles had pulled the shorts and underwear down and engulfed the slender, erect pricklet in his mouth, savoring the taste and texture, and teasing the slit with his tongue. One hand was busy playing with the soft marbles in their sack while the other was kneading the firm flesh of the boy's buns. The boy was breathing hard, already close to orgasm. It came as soon as the man plunged two fingers slicked with saliva into the tight anus. Miles received the gift of a few droplets of clear fluid on his tongue. He raised himself and delivered them into the boy's mouth.

"My turn now!" He whispered in the boy's ear.

While Richii sat on one of the beds and watched, Miles pushed Anthony onto another one of the beds and freed his own standing cock, letting his slacks drop down to his ankles. He raised the child's legs, revealing the boy's puckered anus that spasmed in anticipation. He spat a large glob of saliva that he used as lubricant and pushed forward. He did not last much longer than the kid and after a few powerful thrusts climaxed in bliss.

They stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying their post coital euphoria before Miles disengaged himself with one last kiss.

"Get back to Eagle House now, before dark, and be careful. Don't forget to get some sleep."

"Sure," answered the boy leaning into Miles and kissing the man one final time.

Anthony raised himself with ease, a satisfied grin on his face. He wiped himself on the sheets and then pulled up his shorts and got himself presentable. He winked at Riichi, and then left with a large smile and a small goodbye wave with his hand.

"Your turn now Riichi, let's take care of you, boy," said Miles. The boy was already taking off his sneakers and t-shirt, apparently not at all perturbed by the scene he had just witnessed nor offended of filling the role of a one-night fling. Obviously, he knew his turf. What surprises do you have for me? wondered Miles. He planned on spending the whole night with him, a first time for him, now with the certainty that many would follow. This one would be perfect, he was experienced like Anthony, and so young looking… there would be nothing at stake, just the shared pleasures of a night of unbridled sex.

***

Ke had been spending the last three days setting up the game room. He loved that kind of work and was sad it was almost done. He had wanted no help except someone to assist in carrying the more heavy stuff. It was in the test phase and so far, everything worked to his satisfaction.

Greg's expectations were very well met as were Carl's; they had brought Enrico and Milo with them, both of whom were currently enjoying the diverse games at their disposal before being enjoyed themselves by the man and prefect later in the evening.

"You did an impressive job, Ke, congratulations," said Carl

"Yes, given the requirements it's not too bad. I have been able find enough material to have six posts working at the same time with the energy available. I created a LAN too, so some of the computers are linked and can be used for multiplayer games. As you know, consoles are now mostly useless without the internet. I think everyone will love it. There are movies too, of course for those who want them. It is every boy's dream. Even more so, since we lost power and all that came with it, we all are starved for the entertainment this can bring. It should be very successful." Ke was obviously quite proud of his work, and rightfully so.

As a demonstration, beside them, the two boys playing with their over-ears headphones were totally oblivious of the world around them, finding back feelings that had been lost for a long time, or so it seemed to them.

"That's the purpose and it's only the start, we will try to find many other means to please our boys and get their full support and more. I have it all planned, Greg, a new world whose sole function will be to satisfy our needs." After waiting for Ke to get back to his work, he lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard. "We will have our soldiers, our workers, our all-purpose slaves, and among them our breeders. We have to think of our future; boys grow fast. I've always dreamed of a boy harem. I know also that you have rather extreme tastes, Greg, and in our new world, that will not be a problem anymore. If there are a few incidents, who cares? Who will notice? Replacements will be easy to find. What is left of the old world will be gone so fast, within a matter of weeks. How apropos that final play was, Lord of the Flies. It will be the same here: our veneer of civilization will be gone within the blink of an eye, replaced by the law of the strongest and the fittest. I want you to be my general, I am sure you are up to the task. You have the nerve, the intelligence, the charisma. We will do wonders together."

"Will it be that easy?" Greg's eyes were wide open sharing Carl's vision. He had walked behind Milo, his hand circling the child's neck, ready to close.

Carl had followed his movement with his eyes, somewhat fascinated.

"Is the training coming along fine? Does he accept some of your little games yet?" he asked.

"Yes, he is a fast learner. I think he does truly like it, which, on the other hand, takes away some of the fun, but we have to do with what we have, as you said."

"Yes, for a little bit more, the next steps will be the most delicate and the most dangerous for us. We must be very careful." Carl had moved behind little Enrico, his hand had gone to the child's lap with a much less menacing intent. In fact, the feeling of the man's hand wandering across his crotch brought a smile to the boy's face. "He is also very keen on our games; they are quite tame in comparison, I must say. Not that I would not like to try some harder stuff, like you, but not with that one, he is my pet. I would need to find the right specimen. I have so many gadgets I bought over the years, and the time to try them all has come, it would seem."

Greg approved with a nod of his head and introduced the logical next subject.

"What do we do with the new refugees?"

"Since they came with Aiden Forbes we treat them as we do our boys, one is his brother I think?"

"Yes, and the brother brought along his best friend who also brought his own brother."

"That will be our politic till we take over; it will drastically change after that. It might become very different for those farm boys at Bear House and for all those that do not provide us a good reason to welcome them. They will either be sent back or used for whatever purpose we see fit."

Greg was slowly tightening his grip on Milo's neck until he felt the boy start to choke, and then he released him with a caress.

"A very interesting program; I'm getting horny, perhaps we should move to a more intimate location."

"Come to my apartment, I am curious to see how you handle that boy of yours. But don't try anything too rash, I don't want you to scare Enrico."

***

Miles was now alone with Riichi, seated on Sven's bed, his slacks and underwear down around his ankles as he watched the very young looking Japanese boy undress. As he rubbed his erect cock, he wondered if the reason to send Anthony back to Eagles had been selfish. Was it really to let Anthony get a good night's sleep? Wasn't it just to better enjoy what this new boy had to offer? Perhaps he wasn't so different from Carl after all. What he really wanted was to fuck as many different boys as possible; to see what each one had to offer, which ones had the tightest assholes, the stiffest cocks, and the warmest mouths. There was certainly some truth in that. At the same time, having sex with the two boys could certainly be considered extremely appealing and quite desirable, he had already fueled some of his wankings with such fantasies. It was contradictory; the truth was certainly in between as in many things. He was not the perfect guy, but neither was he the soulless profiteer he suspected Carl to have become.

Fisher had been right; Riichi was a delight to contemplate. Quite different from the other two boys he had had sex with recently. The boy, clearly, was there to please him and nothing else. It was simple and fulfilling, he just had to enjoy the moment. The boy's physique was also different, with his slanted jet black eyes that gave him an enigmatic expression, his slight torso that contrasted with an ample butt, and strong thighs and legs for such a small frame. An Asian trait for sure, and more particularly Japanese, as he had noticed in many erotic pictures watched on the internet.

Naked, Riichi came to him with a firm step, stopped, and bent slightly to touch his lips delicately with small, wet kisses. As he was about to undo the buttons of Miles' shirt, the man held him back and brought the boy's face to his lap and the young mouth to his waiting cock. The boy did not hesitate and gulped down the offered member.

After pleasuring him with his tongue, lips, skillful caresses, and bringing him close to orgasm repeatedly, the boy engaged a second phase. He helped undress the man and he adopted a more passive role, letting Miles do with him as he pleased to reach his pleasure. There were almost no words exchanged. It was pure, raw sex with no emotions attached.

Miles, as he was preparing for penetration, saw that the child's puckered hole was slightly bruised; the boy had been used extensively, recently, and certainly not too kindly. He had a fleeting thought of using a condom, something that had never occurred with Anthony, defining the different nature of the relation, but immediately he abandoned the idea. AIDS was a thing of the past, wasn't it? The Shanxi flu had outdone it by far. After providing the necessary stretching and lubrication, he entered the boy without any remorse or regret and enjoyed him fully.

Miles left him for his second round thirty minutes later. Upon his return, he was ready for more and they made love again. Indeed, Riichi was full of surprises and this time really showed the extent of his talent.

After making out for a few minutes and getting Miles properly exited, which was not too difficult, he asked the man to lie down on the bed with his legs slightly bent at the knees. Then he straddled the man, facing away from him and presenting his lovely bottom for Miles to view. He squatted down using the man's knees raised at the right level for support, and lined his bruised anus up with the hardened rod waiting below.

Richii picked up the KY and squeezed out a good amount onto one hand. Miles lifted himself onto his elbows putting the boy's generous buns within reach of his hands. Riichi, without a glance behind, had seized the waiting member to coat it with lube; it now glistened menacingly in the room's dim lights. He then did the same for his well-used hole. They were well-rehearsed moves.

"Let the show begin. Let's dance! "

And it did begin, soon his entire member had disappeared down the boy's chute, and the child started to more or less dance upon it, undulating, moving his pelvis left and right, up and down and around. He began raising himself in rhythm using the man's or his own knees and legs as support, providing a wonderful and novel massage to the unsuspecting slick shaft. Soon Miles was moaning with pleasure and giving small jabs upwards to enhance the sensations, sending his hand forward to knead and caress the tender flesh within reach.

After a few minutes of ecstasy, the child, without really letting go of the very willing captive cock, turned around. Now he was facing the man, his hands on his own knees, his back wedged against Miles thighs. He smiled and reveled in his skills, his own pricklet hard and straight, though it still appeared far from puberty. He resumed his dance, intently watching all the emotions and feelings showing on Miles' face, using them to adjust his moves, accelerate or slow down so as to avoid a premature orgasm.

The man soon had seized the child's little stick, trying to bring to him some of the delights he was himself experiencing. He let his hand caress the inner thighs, going to the bony knees and back. He was getting close and the boy had full knowledge of it.

"Do you want to finish this way or do you want to take over?" asked Riichi between breaths.

"I'll let you finish. No doubt about it, nothing could be better." It was the least he could say, even if he was usually more inclined to set the tempo, this time he had decided it would not apply. It was that good an experience. "And I'll sure ask for a repeat performance very soon."

He laid back down and waited for the kid's expert ass to do the job.

A few minutes later, the mounting climax finally exploded in a myriad of exquisite sensations. The boy tired after the steady effort, his body slick with sweat. He slid down and fell into Miles embrace. They laid there together, their breathing getting even, and soon both fell asleep.

Miles had a dreamless night and woke up early. With an hour left before having to get ready, he awoke the boy beside him and once more engaged in very erotic sex.

During the night, he did not question his actions; everything felt natural. He knew deep inside that it wasn't all that different than being serviced by a prostitute. The boy had been chosen and sent to him, it was nothing like Sven or even Anthony. But the boy was responsive and willing. He seemed to be enjoying himself, he never protested or refused to please. For Miles it was the gates to paradise. It meant that from now on, whenever he wanted, he would always have a boy by his side and in his bed, a boy with whom he could satisfy his needs, perhaps share his desires and even more, his love, without fear or shame.

***

Sasha Bronsky knew that the nights were dangerous. He no longer knew how many days had gone by since he had been left alone. He was getting desperate, with no electricity, no phone, and no more food. He had to find some help, get out of this nightmare.

He heard them roaming the streets. As soon as the sun disappeared behind the trees, they came out. He didn't know how many of them there were, and he didn't want to know. At first, he had thought that with the cover of darkness it would be safer to come out, try to find someone or some food. He had been wrong; they were much more active at night, not that the days were much safer. They moved in groups, and rarely did he see one alone. He had escaped their clutches twice already while attempting to leave the community, he was a fast runner, and whatever they had become, they were still old people, a fact that had probably saved his life.

He would try again in the morning but would adopt a new approach. He knew he could not reach the main gate in one go. The wall surrounding the community was high, a tall wooden fence with no footholds to help with climbing; he had tried that once already and had almost been caught there. No, his goal was to reach the main gate, which was not that far away. He would get there in several stages, taking two or three days and finding refuge in the houses along the way. If he was lucky, he might even find some food or someone that had not succumbed to the disease to help him. He was never separated from his baseball bat now and planned on taking one big knife from the kitchen to defend himself. He would have liked to find a real weapon though, like a gun, and he would surely look for one on his way. He couldn't wait for his mother anymore.

Once he had prepared and packed everything he planned to take with him the following morning, he went to sleep in his cramped little cupboard. He had not slept in his bed since the fight with his grandpa.

***

As he was bringing Riichi back to Eagle House, Miles thought that it felt great to be alive, and even if he was to die in the next few days, it would have been worth it, and everything indicated that for him, life offerings were far from over. The boy kissed him goodbye of his own initiative, adding with his slight and charming accent, "I will be pleased to serve you again, sir, if you wish."

Miles had difficulty reading the boys thoughts but took it as a good omen. "I'll be glad to meet with you again, Riichi. It was a great night." He watched the boy enter the building; then turned around, full of anticipation for what was coming.

He now was going to Puma House to wake Sven and tell him that he was taking the boy on the raid and later, if Sven wished, to stay with him at Bear House. As for Anthony, it would surprise and please him and he was sure that the boy's expression would be priceless when he told him. His expectations were well met. The boy with his messy hair, still half-asleep, took a few seconds to react.

"What did you say? You're joking, right?"

Then, when he understood it was for real, he showed pure joy and jumped up and down on his bed before hanging himself around Miles neck and kissing him shamelessly. The man, despite his very active night, felt a strong wave of rekindled desire with the near naked boy in his arms. Looking around at the three other boys in the room who were now also fully awake, he tried to calm the boy's enthusiasm. It was the first time he had been to Sven's room. He recognized William Forrest and the boy that had played Piggy in Tools' show.

"You have ten minutes to get ready, Sven. Don't be late."

***

At eight thirty a.m. sharp, they were ready to go. They would take two vehicles, the school minibus and a small utility truck. There were fourteen of them going; Tools, Greg, and three of his buddies rode in the truck driven by Abrams, while Miles, Louise, Sven, Anthony, Walt, Tom Cruise, and two other faculty people led the way in the minibus. They would communicate with the military radios. Miles had them set to the same citizens band channel, and checked to be sure they were working and had a full charge on the batteries.

There was a little gathering to see them off. Dunn's warriors were well represented. William was there, wanting to see with his own eyes whether or not Sven really would be part of the adventure. There was Logan and Johnny, both very enthusiastic, asking when they would be allowed to go too. And there was Bob and Matthew, who were more subdued than usual. Before getting on the minibus, Miles went over to Matthew.

"So, you came to see me leave?"

There was no answer. Miles felt the boy's distress and the menace of tears.

"What's wrong Matthew, what's the matter with you? I'm just going to get some food to fill your young bellies, that's all. We should all be back by lunch time."

"You will be back, for sure?" The tears were coming. Miles took him in his arms.

"Of course, I will. I won't let you down. I promised; remember? I'll be back before you've noticed I'm gone. I don't want to miss our training this afternoon, and even less your evening visit."

"You weren't in your room yesterday evening," Matthew inquired, his tears starting to dry.

"I had some business to attend to, but I plan on trying to eat each one of you again today. I still have to decide which one of you is the most appetizing." Miles was satisfied to see a smile come to the boy's face.

"Now be brave, and eat a good breakfast. I want some flesh on those puny bones when I come for you, okay?" He gently pinched the boy's biceps. It was the only sensual game he allowed himself with Matthew or his friends in the evening, despite his strong appeal. Matthew was still out of bounds for anything else.

"Okay."

"Alright, it's time to go now." Miles kissed his brow and left him.

***

Miles did not expect any major problems. Still, everyone was holding an AR-15 and he had taken two extra handguns to give to the younger boys, just in case. After reminding them all to follow the rules he had set and taught them, they were on their way.

The driver of the minibus was Morgan Wells, a reliable man of few words. Miles had told him not to go over forty miles per hour. It would be slow going, but it gave them time to anticipate any incident on the road and time to react.

There was little talk; everyone was staring out at the helter-skelter view that unfolded before them as they traveled along. The tension was strong and easily felt: crashed cars, dead bodies, some of which were bloated or ripped apart, fires and black smoke trailing skyward, blowing debris, broken glass, suitcases and other items strewn along the roadside and in the streets…Miles and Wells had to concentrate on the road ahead for any signs of danger.

It was about the same as what Louise had described previously, only more of it, and Miles seemed less affected, having seen similar or worse scenes in his career. Instead, whenever possible, he took some time to observe the two boys he had brought along with hopes that they would make fast friends and accept to live together. Both had been warned there was another boy and both had accepted the idea, but would they be willing to share his affection?

For now, it was clearly a round of observation that was taking place. They had shaken hands at his request and since then had been sending glances at each other from time to time. Fortunately, it looked more like curiosity than animosity. Anthony was clearly more at ease so far as he appraised the younger boy; he certainly approved of his looks and appeal, as Miles knew already. Sven was more reserved. With some luck, things would turn out fine between them.

***

Walt was also very much interested by the boys in front of him and divided his attention between them and the scenery that passed behind the bus windows. He still felt a pang of jealousy; it was slight but still there. He was now certain there was something going on between Sven and Dunn. The way they behaved together, even if they tried to conceal it, was peculiar. How far they had gone he didn't know. The fact that Sven had been brought along was more evidence, but how the other boy, Anthony, came into the picture, that he didn't know, yet.

He had come to accept the nature of his feelings for Sven. That discovery had opened new perspectives and he now looked at boys in a different way, quite similar to the way he had looked at girls before. Sven had started it all. He could try to get him back; he was now ready to offer him what he had been looking for. But could he compete with Dunn? The other option would be perhaps to find someone to take his place. It would not be the same, Sven was special to him, but at his age, he had strong needs that demanded to be satisfied.

Among the boys he had come into contact these last months, he had mostly thought of the new boy, Chad, who had taken up residence with them. It was very convenient. He had the perfect profile for Walt; the boy was as good looking as Sven, was miserable, felt lost and abandoned, and he really needed someone. Furthermore, Walt thought that the young refugee, as many called him and his brothers, had taken a liking to him. Who else was there for him, anyway? Chad had started to open up to Walt, confiding his fears and hopes to him. Would he be interested? It was a cynical approach that Walt did not particularly approve of, but what choice did he have? It was the easy way and he secretly hoped that as soon as Sven saw him with another boy, the sooner he could reflect on it, and who knew? Perhaps he might come back to him and it would be Sven's turn to feel jealousy.

***

They arrived at their destination in fifty minutes by avoiding the most densely populated areas. The place looked quiet and in order, the military vehicles still in position at the main entrance. It was made of one bland and large building that had been emptied of any agricultural equipment and then stocked with food of all kinds, brought by an endless convoy of trucks, its purpose being to provide enough to fill the area population's needs. It had not lasted long, and it seemed clear that all distribution operations had ceased.

Miles told Wells to stop as he observed the area with his binoculars. It had been decided he would go first with the driver, and then call the others in if all was clear. Following the plan, everyone else got off the minibus, joining up with Greg and Abrams. Anthony, in the excitement, had temporarily forgotten his resentment and fear, but now gave the prefect a wide berth and stood away from him; Greg himself was relaxed, smiled at him, and kept a responsible attitude.

***

Miles had seen very little movement. Only two men had shown up during his observation. He suddenly had a bad feeling and regretted having brought the two younger boys. It had been selfish and served no real purpose other than to please them and most of all, himself.

The minibus stopped a few yards from the entrance, while Miles went forward on foot and unarmed. Soon an officer showed up to meet him, unshaven and with tired looks, a very young lieutenant. They shook hands; it was clear the man was well aware of their purpose.

"Lieutenant Orville, Major Dunn, I suppose?" He said with a salute.

"Not anymore, I am a civilian now. Dunn will do."

"Don't you say, once a Marine, always a Marine?"

"Yes, you're right, we do."

"Well, then, Major Dunn, let me tell you, you should find everything you need here. In fact, you're quite lucky, the orders we got concerning your visit were among the last we received. The chain of command appears broken. I have lost contact with my command center; they are not answering any of my calls. I must say I was very uncertain you would show up today and on time. What's your secret?"

"Three-hundred hungry boys, Lieutenant. That's what brings and motivates me."

"A valid reason, there's no doubt about that."

"And yourself, where do you stand now? Have you been able to contact anyone else?" Miles felt the tension, he had seen the man's eyes darting right and left, and some shaking of his hand. He needed some answers before bringing in the others.

"I was able to reach Atlanta and Savannah, but they have been unable to give me clear orders except to stay put and continue with the mission. We lost men to that damn flu, of course, but not only due to that. Maintaining the quarantine has not been easy, and then there were the looters; our trucks have been attacked more than once. We stopped doing deliveries in town two days ago, when too many of our trucks did not come back."

"It's worse than I thought it would be then. What about the town, what information do you have?"

"The town is a mess, but we still stand our ground here. I manage."

"What about the sick, what do you do about them?"

"Mine? I've had them locked up in one of the stores. They have food and have to take care of themselves. It's been so for some time now. I had no other alternative; no one came to pick them up for three days. It is not a pleasant situation, they don't go willingly, and we could be outnumbered quite soon."

"It is an impossible situation, what are you going to do?"

"Wait it out. Pursue the mission. Follow my orders." The tone was icy; there was no room for discussion. He was a diehard and would probably die from it quite soon.

"Still, I'm very sorry about it Lieutenant. I am in no position to help you, unfortunately."

"I guess so; it's not your responsibility anyway. How are you faring at your school?"

"We have about the same difficulties with a dwindling number of adults to take care of the students. Luckily, the students are not affected in the same proportion as the adults. We have had very few contacts with the outside so far. It is tense; we are walking a narrow path, trying not to fall. But let's get down to business if you don't mind. I want to get back there as soon as I can."

"That's the right attitude if you want my opinion. Come this way, I'll show you where you can load your truck."

Miles gave the signal to Abrams as he was directed to the loading docks located in a large alley on the right side of the building. As they waited for the truck to get in position, he asked a few more questions.

"Have you seen many of the enraged or ferals?"

"Quite a few but they usually don't come near us. It seems to me that after the initial rage they're not as crazy as we were told. They fight each other sometimes, but they are now more likely to form packs. Some town people have told us interesting stories about them…"

Miles would have liked to know more, but he still had that gut feeling and wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Behind the apparent order, hidden by the vehicles, he had seen the neglect, the haggard faces of six soldiers in disarrayed uniforms, and many unattended weapons lying on the ground. It smelled bad. The officer himself looked… sick, he was sneezing repeatedly, had bloodshot eyes.

"We will load the truck ourselves; I brought help."

"Take all you need, there's more than enough. I'll send two men to open the doors from the inside; they'll be there in a few minutes."

Miles gave directions to Abrams and then told Wells to position the minibus to be ready for a fast departure at the entrance of the alley, which was flanked by an office building and its parking entrance on the opposite side.

After a short wait that felt too long for Miles, the two soldiers appeared as they unlocked and pulled on the chain that lifted the metal bay doors. They did not appear to be in great shape, either. They did not say much, did not smile, and he left them to do their business in silence.

It was just as well, Miles warned everyone to avoid unnecessary contact with the soldiers, or any others they met. Something was definitely wrong; all his instincts told him so. After sizing up what they would take, he determined it should take probably just above an hour to load the truck.

"Let's hurry up guys; I want us gone from here quickly."

The place was huge, the lights were dim, and the hum of the generators could be heard not far off. The air in the warehouse was hot and stale.

The priority concerning food was canned, dry, and powdered goods. Stuff they could keep for a long time without any problem of conservation. While the boys did the carrying and loading jobs, he had ordered Abrams and Louise to oversee security, one on the loading dock and one inside. While the loading took place, the weapons were close by, within easy reach and ready to be used. Sven and Anthony were to stay in the bus where they could survey the whole area in front of the depot and warn the others if they noticed any sign of trouble. Miles had given the boys a radio; they were level headed and he was confident they would use the handguns he had trusted them with adequately, or better yet, not have to use them at all.

"If you see anything that appears even slightly suspect, you call me. If it looks dangerous, you leave here and join us right away. You know how the radio works?" They acquiesced. "Don't try anything stupid, understood? I trust you." He had told them.

Now, he was walking the alleys and selecting the next loads.

***

They were about half done and there had been close to no contact with the soldiers. Miles tried to keep everybody in the same space to let Louise and Abrams have a good view of their whereabouts. Progress was slow. The place was mostly silent, except for the sound of the generators and some grating noises coming from the back of the building, the air conditioning vents, and echoes of discussions from where the soldiers seemed to be stationed.

There was no warning, the first shots were deafeningly loud in that space and echoed for a long time.

There were shouts, "They are out…they are out… don't shoot… over here… pull back…"

Then, other shots rang from outside the depot: he recognized the staccato of the browning M2 machine gun fire.

Miles had to assess the situation rapidly. He was immediately back in combat mode.

"Get your guns. Everybody back to the vehicles!" He shouted. He had drawn his Glock 22C as he was retreating towards the loading dock. Sam Lewis, still pushing a cart filled with milk powder, almost bumped into him. "Forget about that, boy!" Miles yelled, pulling him by his sleeve to put the boy safely behind him, and under cover." A few shots came their way. Were they the target or was it random?

Gunfire and shouts still erupted sporadically. What was going on? Mutiny was the first idea that came to mind but it did not make much sense. The depot was vast, the main fight seemed to be taking place near the entrance, but there were shots coming from the rear of the depot too. It was difficult to localize them precisely with the echo…an attack of the ferals? But they did not use guns. Was there a back entrance? Looters?

Whatever was occurring they were now all back at the dock and safe for the moment. He immediately threw a glance to check on Sven and Anthony. They had left the minibus and had taken cover behind the building itself, throwing glances toward the depot entrance around the corner.

"Anyone hurt?" Miles asked around. When there was no answer, he was helped by Abrams to close the dock gates to avoid more surprises.

"Let's get back in the vehicles and out of here. Check your weapons," ordered Miles. "The front entrance is under machine gun fire, we'll have to avoid it and find another way back."

"Can't we go help them?" asked Lewis.

"I won't endanger any of us today and I have no idea what's going on or which side to support."

He signaled to Sven and Anthony to pull back and come to him as he ran to the minibus, which was half out of the alley and exposed to gunfire.

"You all stay here. Louise, you cover me and Wells while we start the bus and turn it around. Then we continue along the alley. The main danger is the machine guns; we don't know if it is friend or foe that got them, so we can't go back the way we came."

"Boys, what did you see?"

"Not much, only that one of them was shooting through the entrance then turned the machine gun toward us but did not open fire," said Anthony. "That's when we left the bus. We tried to call you."

"Don't know if he saw us," added Sven. Both boys were a little afraid, but mostly excited. "What do you think is happening?"

"Nothing good and we'll stay out of it. Sorry I didn't answer, Anthony, I was busy. Come on Wells, let's go."

"Wait," said Louise, "let me check if the way is clear."

She pulled a mirror from her backpack and used it to make her observations without exposing herself. She's definitely good, thought Miles.

"The machine gun is still aiming at the bus. I would recommend the utmost caution," she said in a detached way.

"Okay, I'll go first, Wells, you follow when I tell you."

As soon as Miles got inside and was seated, he started the bus. Almost instantly, bullets started raining all around him, making large holes and causing the vehicle to shake. A few hit the motor and smoke started to pour from the radiator. Obviously, someone didn't want them to leave. Miles, expecting some reaction, had immediately jumped from the cabin and was crawling back for cover, taking with him his backpack with the binoculars, maps, and radio. The minibus was now a wreck.

"Well, we just got the truck now. Why the hell did they shoot at us?!" He exclaimed. "Everybody get in, we're leaving now! I'll go in the cabin with Abrams, Louise you watch our back." It would be crowded in there but they had no other option for the moment. "If they shoot at us at any moment, lie down and try to use the crates as cover, boys."

There was no logic to what was happening but Miles knew from experience that it was often the rule in battle; they were clearly in a war, a war of a different kind, a war for survival. Reason had gone out the window, he had to face the moment; there was no need for useless answers. Now let's hope the alley exit at the back is clear, otherwise, we'll have to fight our way through. There had been detonations coming from there too, but no machine gun fire.

Fortunately, all was clear at the other end and no one was in sight. Now they had to find a route back without putting themselves under fire. Miles had taken out the map; he had studied it already the day before. They would have to give a wide berth to the depot, cross part of the business center and then take Third Avenue West to be able to retrace their steps. They had met no problems on their way to get here; it was then their best option for their way back. They crossed the mostly empty parking lot at good speed, circling the depot and entering a zone of small office buildings lining both sides of the road. It was deserted and quiet.

"Okay, the next left should be Third. It would be nice to find a replacement for the bus. Stop if you see something we could use."

Abrams had just made the turn when he stomped on the brakes. Three hundred feet ahead was a kind of barricade with a clutter of vehicles in front of it. Dunn frowned, pulled out his binoculars, and tried to see if there was a way through. There might have been one, but he decided it was too risky and highly suspicious. He then pulled out his map.

"I think we have no choice, we will go the other way around. The road looks clear in that direction."

"Perhaps it is not such a bad thing. I came this way a few times in the past, if I recall. I think there is a car dealership a bit further that way; we might find a vehicle there. They must feel quite uncomfortable back there," Abrams said pointing his finger behind him. He then announced to the eleven people there, "we're going the other way, there's a blockade ahead," before backing up and turning the truck in the opposite direction.

The area looked untouched and they arrived at the site shortly, which was a Lexus dealership. There were about two hundred cars on the lot. We will ride in luxury, thought Miles as he saw two large SUVs at the back of the lot, near the office building and a garage.

"Those two SUVs look exactly like what we need, they're perfect. Let's get there Abrams, you stop behind them and keep the motor running. I'll go check the office building, try to find the keys, and Wells, you check the garage just in case. When we got them I'll start one and then the other and check if they got enough gas." He then addressed Louise in the back, "Send the kids, Walt, and Cruise once you hear the motor running. They'll ride with Wells and me. Watch the road and the surroundings; let's try to avoid any more surprises."

As he left the truck, Miles did a rapid survey of the quiet and apparently empty place. He had a clear idea of where to find the keys. Cars nowadays couldn't be started like in the old days, electronics had taken over; he needed those keys. But he was positive they would be easy to find, usually left in the key closet and well cataloged for the sales people to find them quickly and easily for test drives with potential customers.

"Anybody here?" he shouted as he entered the showroom.

Everything was in order, as if people had just left at the end of their workday and would be back tomorrow. He started to relax a bit. He almost immediately found the closet where the keys were displayed on a large board, by rows corresponding to the parking space of the vehicles outside and clearly tagged with the make, model, year, and color. He grabbed the ones from the back row, the ones he was looking for plus a few more, just in case.

As he came out and was getting closer, he pressed the unlock button on the key fob and the lights flashed and the horn beeped to one of the SUV's. He lost no time; got in, and started the vehicle. There was a quarter tank of gas, as usual. On to the next one now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wells exiting the garage as if dazzled by the outside sun, and that Tom Cruise, Sven, and Anthony had stepped down from the truck ready to join him. Louise, Greg, Sam and the others had taken position overlooking the road and the large number of vehicles, weapons ready.

***

Wells was feeling sick, still overwhelmed by the stench that had caught him by surprise as soon as he had entered the garage. The place was dimly lit and hot, the garage door raised about a quarter of the way up. He took only two steps inside. It took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust and for his mind to accept the sight in front of him. There were a few vehicles being worked on and the tools and equipment necessary for the task, all things you expected to find in such a place. But there was more, there was a pile of … bodies a few feet away in a pool of blood.

Details were hard to see, or perhaps he didn't really want to accept what his eyes had registered. They were mostly kids, torn apart, heads, limbs, and torsos in a jumble with trailing viscera, a vision out of a nightmare. After a moment of shock, he pulled back, a hand before his mouth. He stood at the entrance a few minutes to catch back his breath, getting back his wits while gripping his gun and using it as a support. The sound of a motor starting pulled him out of his present state. He had to tell Dunn what he had found.

Wells was halfway there when he heard Dunn call to Louise to send the boys, Walt, and Tom Cruise over and get back in the truck. He watched the two boys and teacher start to walk toward the SUV. Walt had stayed back and was talking with Louise. He saw the blond kid, Sven, look in his direction and stop right in his tracks mouth agape. Then he saw Dunn seize his gun and raise it. Out of instinct, he turned around and came almost face to face with terror.

***

It all happened so fast! As soon as he had started the vehicle, checked the gas, and called to Louise, he saw them. They were only a few steps behind Wells, at least ten of them and more coming out of the garage. They were silent, moving methodically, like pack hunters in the wild. Some were armed with knives, some were carrying different objects to be used as clubs, and others were carrying stones. Some were half-naked, in pajamas, others dressed more casually. They were of different ages and sex, many females. Most were drenched in dried blood. Miles immediately rushed for his gun.

"Watch out Wells, run!" He shouted, "Boys, to me, fast!" He saw Wells turn around and be overcome by the pack, two of them pinning him to the ground.

Cruise and the boys now saw the ferals, who were coming for them. The boys froze, like deer in the headlights. Cruise's head swiveled side to side, looking for an escape route. The ferals spread out; sizing these new targets…they chose the boys for their next kill and began to close in.

Two shots rang out, one of the ferals pinning Wells fell off him. Louise, of course! Dunn shot at the second one, and the woman's head exploded.

The bang seemed to shake the boys out of their trance and they all began moving towards Miles, towards the gunfire and away from the ferals. Miles and Louise started to pick them off, one by one. More were coming. They were clearly not mindless, running in zigzag to avoid being shot, knowing they were exposed, throwing rocks and other objects. They also seemed insensible to pain. At least two had been severely wounded but kept coming at them, a rictus on their faces and not losing sight of their quarry, the boys. A girl no more than ten threw a stone at Anthony who slipped to avoid it and sprained his ankle, falling to the ground. Cruise passed him without stopping, not even thinking to use his gun, the first ferals only a few feet away.

Wells was trying to get up; he had been stabbed four times, his gun was lying just out of reach, and more of the bastards were coming for him.

Miles had to concentrate his firing to protect the boys, his priority. Cruise had reached him and was finally getting a grip on himself. He started firing too, and Miles told him to protect Wells. Cruise was obviously frazzled, and Miles didn't want a stray bullet to hurt the boys as they were too close to the ferals.

Without hesitation, Sven had stopped and retraced his steps. He was now helping Anthony limp toward the SUV; he had taken out his handgun and shot a few times at the menace just about to catch up with them. He felled two of the aggressors; Anthony followed suit; they were making their way to the vehicle and safety, they were almost there.

Greg, Walt, and the others had deployed at last and their firepower finally took its toll. The ferals' number was thinning and many of them were retreating, taking cover.

"Are you alright, Anthony?" asked Miles. "Get in the car."

"Just hurt my ankle, nothing to worry about. That was close!" He turned his gaze to Sven, "Thanks, buddy, I owe you."

"You're welcome. I'm getting used to saving people. Guess it's becoming a habit."

"True, you did it for that other kid on the field, too." As he was talking, he was sending furious stares at Cruise who tried to avoid meeting his gaze.

"You'll talk later, kids; now in the car. Lock the doors." Dunn was on the lookout, appraising the situation. "Nobody hurt on your side, Louise?"

"No, everything is under control here."

Except for Greg and Louise, it had been their first time having to shoot to kill. As Miles had often observed during his time in the military, the reaction was generally the same. Excitement first and often shock later. They had survived but they had killed. Most of them avoided looking at the bodies that littered the ground. Among them was the ten-year-old girl that had thrown the stone at Anthony. Her face was half gone from the bullet that had struck her.

A few of the ferals were not yet dead. He saw Greg get close to one and shoot him in the head with no apparent emotion. He would have to watch that one closely. He was going to shoot a young girl who was trying to crawl away and called out to him.

"No need to waste any more bullets. She'll be dead in minutes. I'll go get Wells. Send Tools over to help, I'll need him." The icy look he got in return was clearly hostile. He chose to ignore it. "Cruise, get behind the wheel and ready to drive."

While watching the garage entrance as well as the fallen bodies all around, he jogged towards Wells who was half sitting and supporting himself with his gun. When he got there, he immediately understood he was too late. Wells was dead. He checked for a pulse out of habit, then laid the man down and closed his eyes while he waited for Tools.

"He's gone. We can't leave him here though; help me bring him to the car. We'll bury him at the school."

As soon as they had put him in the back of the SUV, they left; finally taking the two instead of just one and putting Greg at the wheel of the second one. Another vehicle could have its use as they had learned. Miles hoped that they would be able to get to the school without any further incident or casualty.

***

Tools was now riding with them and was examining Anthony's ankle.

"Nothing to worry about, it's definitely not broken. It'll probably hurt for a few days though. No running or jumping for some time." He was gently massaging it, caressing the calf.

"Are you done? Can I get it back now?" asked Anthony with a smile.

"Of course."

Tools had by now fully embraced his love of boy flesh, and like Miles, took advantage of any opportunity to enjoy it. It was a good derivative in their present situation and he knew Anthony was in a good place on Carl's roster. He was brought back to the dire reality by Sven.

"More problems ahead!"

"Yes, slow down," said Dunn.

They had left Third Avenue and the business district, turned left, and entered the town via Tenth Street. The street was narrower, bordered by oak trees and small condominiums. Here the signs that things had changed drastically were evident. He saw again abandoned cars and debris littering the streets, sidewalks and lawns, burnt buildings, some still on fire, the smell of smoke sometimes overwhelming. There was also a lingering odor all around since they had entered the inhabited areas. The smell of burning flesh, death, and decaying bodies, smells that Miles knew well and had encountered too many times already.

Cruise had to slalom between the different obstacles. In the vehicles, everyone was tense and had their weapons ready.

"There," said Anthony, "do you see it?"

A group of about ten to fifteen kids was crossing the street forty feet ahead. They seemed somewhat organized, the older ones surrounding the younger ones, one of them carrying a toddler. They stopped when they saw the vehicles. They were also carrying some weapons. Dunn saw a rifle, two handguns, baseball bats, and some golf clubs. "I think we should stop," he said.

Cruise halted the car. The sight of a half-burnt house still smoking between them and the kids gave the scene a dramatic look. Dunn opened his door and exited the vehicle, leaving his gun inside. Behind him, Greg, driving the second SUV, did the same, while keeping his gun with him.

"What are you doing?" asked Cruise.

"Trying to make contact. Sven, Anthony, show yourselves, it will reassure them. But stay by the car"

"You should not do that," said Tools.

"I have to." After what had happened at the dealership, he had to warn the kids, or rather, since they were probably well aware of the dangers of this new world, offer them a refuge and protection.

Slowly and showing his empty hands, Miles moved forward, getting closer to the group of kids. Some looked hurt and had blood on their clothes. Two of them were wearing pajamas, one was shirtless, and all looked afraid and wary, clutching whatever weapon they had and looking ready to use them.

"I just want to help kids; looks to me that you could use some of that. Don't be afraid."

"Who are you? What do you want?" said the bigger one who looked about sixteen, aiming his rifle.

"Miles Dunn, like I said I want to help. I come from Saint Xavier, the school. You certainly have heard of it. We're going back there. We can offer you shelter, food, and protection. You're in danger here."

"You adults are the danger! We all know it, when you get sick."

"I understand, but look, we got kids with us. Not all of us get sick or become feral. If some of you agree, we will take care of them. We are well organized; we have weapons and food. We just lost one of our group to a large pack of ferals just a few blocks from here. It's not safe for you to stay in this place."

He counted fourteen kids: eleven boys and three girls. His words seemed to have some effect. They were looking at each other, talking. The tension was easing a bit, his interlocutor's resolution wavering. Miles' mind was wondering if they would all fit in the vehicles, they had been right to take the two SUVs.

"I won't go," the leader insisted.

"But perhaps some of the others would like to. We'll wait ten minutes. You decide. Even if you don't want to come with us now, you will know where to go in case of need. Spread the word; tell those you meet that we can offer shelter at the school."

Miles retraced his steps and came to wait beside the car.

"I'm not sure Carl would approve of your speech," said Tools

"There is strength in numbers and we can't pass those kids and not try to save at least some of them," answered Miles. "Ten minutes, Abrams, Greg, and then we're back on the road." He signaled to the supportive man who was leaning out the truck's door and the prefect who clearly disapproved.

"I'm with you, Dunn," said Abrams loud enough to be heard by all.

Greg came to him.

"You can't do that. Who cares about those kids? There are hundreds more all around, you can't save them all."

"No, but I can save a few. That will be enough for today. Don't forget, I am a Marine. We leave no one behind."

"You're putting us in jeopardy, waiting like this. The school can't shelter all the strays that come to its gates. Carl has been very clear on this point."

"That point has not been discussed yet, but if it is his opinion I think we will disagree."

"He is the headmaster now, you have no authority."

"I don't think things are quite that simple anymore, Greg. We are not discussing school politics but life and death matters. My word will count, you can bet on that. Go back to your vehicle now. Cruise, go with him. If some of those kids want to come with us we will split them up into the two vehicles."

They waited in silence. The time was up when four of the kids left the group and came to them; a shirtless boy, stocky, perhaps twelve, and three others. They were all younger, one girl about ten. One of the boys who looked about the same age was limping, apparently from a knife wound. Miles could see a large gash on his thigh, partly covered by a bloody makeshift bandage. The girl had a large bruise on her face, a brother and sister who had gone through hard times.

"Let's go," said Dunn, putting the two wounded children in the SUV and placing the other two in the truck. He didn't trust Greg to care for them.

Five minutes later, they were clear of the town on their chosen road, on their way back to Saint Xavier. They were late and their mission could be considered a failure. Miles knew it would be interpreted that way by Carl Fisher. Miles felt that way himself, after losing Wells and half their cargo. If he had not brought Sven and Anthony, they could have concentrated their fire to try to save Wells. But what was done was done. For the rest it was unpredictable. His exchange with Greg and Tools showed that the game for power had started and this was a clear setback for Louise and himself.

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