Chapter 24

Miles had been waiting for the boys to return and was soon relieved it had all gone according to plan.

It was the last load, and Anthony, Sven, William, and the few others that helped them were happy it was over. Those weapons were heavy, and as soon as they reached the school perimeter, they had to be discreet and inconspicuous. It had been an arduous task, but they had succeeded. The guns and other military equipment, hidden in the farm shed about a mile from Saint Xavier's, had been moved and were now stored out of sight in Bear house. To avoid arousing suspicion, they had chosen a time when Bear boys were on guard duty. The existence of the weapons was still not suspected by Carl, but with the increased risk of a feral attack, it made more sense to move them closer. It would not hurt either to have a clear advantage in case of a confrontation inside the school. The weapons had been carefully selected to be more effective than those held in the school armory, they were quite formidable and included the M9 pistol on up to a Browning 50 caliber machine gun, with plenty of fully automatic M16's, as that was the standard weapon for the Guard. Showing them off could even serve to avoid any confrontation before it started.

The house was almost deserted, and dinner was about to start. It took them only a few minutes to hide everything, the MK19, being the only difficult thing to conceal. While hoping the weapons would never be needed, Miles doubted it and felt reassured, knowing they were immediately available. He also had great trust in his boys, his "warriors" as he called them were reliable and well trained, it was only right that they were the ones to wield them.

As the others went for dinner, Anthony lingered behind.

"Anthony, it's been a while since we've spent some time together, will you stay the night?"

"I would, but I have Mikey to take care of. I don't think he's ready to join us yet. He is still somewhat shy, even with me, but I'm working on it. I could come after he's fallen asleep."

"Mikey? Chad's brother? Didn't know you two were together…he didn't look shy at all to me."

"He still has problems deciding what a boy should or shouldn't do, if you know what I mean. Once the lights are off, he becomes a little devil and everything becomes much easier. I like the kid."

"I can see that. I can also see that you care about his feelings, which is very nice. I think I could have trusted you with Matthew if he had agreed. You're showing you're more than worthy of my love and expectations. We've got a big room now, so you can join us at any time."

"I will; too bad you sent Brett away with Louise. I would have liked to get to know him."

"Never have enough? Like me, I would say."

"What can I say, I got something for blonds. At least Sven will be there."

"Mikey's not blond."

"True, nobody's perfect."

"And what about me?" demanded Miles, making a sad face.

"You? I love you! The others are just for fun."

Miles took the boy in his arms, hands on his butt, kissing him lightly.

"Even Mikey?" Miles wanted to know.

"Well, he is kinda special too."

"I like those answers, Anthony. I sure do want to see you later," he added, squeezing the boy's rounded butt again. "Let's go to dinner."

When they arrived in the dining hall, Miles saw Max seated at Carl's table, and Anthony saw Milo back at Greg's side. Anthony would have liked to see him, but no way was he going to be anywhere near Greg. Mikey had seen him and was gesturing with his arms to get his attention and pointing to an empty seat beside him. He did not hesitate and went to the boy.

The dining hall was always a noisy place and the food still quite acceptable. Boys now sat with their friends and companions; houses had lost much of their cohesion. The room was split into two main factions, one around Miles and one around the headmaster, separated by a no-man's-land where you could find some very independent boys, as well as boys hesitant to declare sides. Tom Cruise was amongst this group most of the time. The other two adult teachers left alive were Pruit and Gallo, who had chosen their camp and sat with Carl's bunch.

The lights were on, with electricity provided by two power generators. It was a reassuring atmosphere for the boys who knew that they were as secure as they could be with about thirty of them guarding and patrolling the school, with the boys on patrol having taken their dinner earlier."

Miles could see Carl talking animatedly with Max, what could they be saying? Greg, for once, seemed genuinely interested by Milo, at his side. He was talking with him and playing with his light blonde hair; they were both smiling. Apart from the lack of school uniforms, a thing of the past, and a certain lack of discipline, you might think it was a normal dinner at an elite school.

***

Carl had been expounding upon his vision of the future to Max, what he wanted for himself, the school, and the boys. The order and manner in which each was cited, did not escape Max's attention. Once dinner was over, Carl invited him to his office to share a drink. As soon as Enrico had brought them some ice cubes, he sent the boy away, wanting no witnesses to what he was about to say.

"Of course, whatever privileges that apply to me, will apply to all those that help me bring this vision to fruition. It goes without saying."

Max leaned forward to make direct eye contact with Carl, drink in hand, he said, "But it is always better to say it."

Max was back in survival mode. Life at the orphanage had taught him how to maximize his advantage by forming alliances. This time, however, he was not a weak little boy seeking protection, hoping for affection, he was the one with power and he planned to extract all he could from that position. Fisher was a clever guy; he had to be. The man had managed to provide boys to Ivor for years, right under the authorities' noses, without raising the slightest suspicion. Ivor had trusted him as an ally, but Max knew the type, alliances only held as long as it served their interests. Still, even if he was not a trustworthy ally, he was prepared to be ruthless in ignoring the niceties of the old world for the sake of survival and power. This was good. It was also his turf, he had done it for Ivor, and he didn't mind doing it for Fisher. The man had an interest in boys, so did Ivor, it was no different. For now, he would feign support for Carl and work on their shared interests. No one could say yet what the future held and Max did not intend to leave his destiny in the hands of anyone but himself. If he was no longer seen as a benefit, he knew he could be discarded, but he could also take Fisher's place. He had sensed, in his short time staying here at the school, that Carl could be a vindictive adversary but also a valuable ally.

"I think we understand each other very well, Max."

"So, your only worry is Dunn?"

"Dunn and Louise Simons, though I hope to find a compromise, with Dunn at least, but not Simons, she's a very stubborn lady. At the same time, they both have been extremely useful, so far."

"Less so, now?"

"Yes, since you joined us. It seems to me you have the same skills, you probably could replace them. But all that is premature, better to keep all of our assets. We don't really know what challenges still await us."

"I see, do you have any leverage against them if needed, a way to keep an eye on them, what they do."

Fisher sported a large smile at that.

"Yes," he continued, "Anthony, one of my boys, is keeping a close eye on them and keeps me regularly informed."

"Good, but I'm not sure it's enough, given the circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

"That boy, Dunn knows he was yours?"

"I believe so."

"Then, if I were him, I would withhold any sensitive information in his presence."

"I thought of that too, but he gave me proof that's not the case. Reliable and crosschecked information."

"Dunn was an army officer; he spent some time in Intelligence. When you told Ivor about the new security guy, he used his connections to obtain his military records, beyond what you saw in his résumé. He knows how to fool the enemy; it's second nature for those like him; he most likely planted true and false information, given on purpose to the boy. You might have been misled from the start, sorry to tell you that."

Fisher's expression was troubled; his certitude had vanished; he prided himself in being able to read people and manipulate them. "You may be right, and we'll need a plan to remedy that, when the time comes."

"Put a bug in his office, and his sleeping quarters, we need to keep a close eye on him."

"Really? I have all the surveillance equipment we might need, used it often in the past. His office should be easy, and Anthony could hide a mic in Bear House."

"Not that boy, don't put all your eggs in the same basket, he could be watched. That's what I would do. Have someone else do it, someone you trust."

"Even if they watch him, Anthony can find the right moment to do it. They sleep together after all. Sending someone else will be more risky, but I'll do it as you suggest. No problem."

"We'll listen to what they say and see if we can work something out to persuade Dunn."

"That should do it. Yes. Perhaps put a bug in Louise's apartment too. I like the way you're thinking, Max. I was sure we were made to do great things together."

"I'm sure you said the same thing to Dunn."

"Yes, I did, and he's been very useful so far, but he still clings to moral precepts: ideas you and I have cast aside as having no place in this new world. It's a hypocritical position; all he wants is to take advantage of those boys, get into their pants, and fuck them silly. Still, he feels better hiding behind noble principles like love and respect for the boys, allowing them free choice, treating them as equals. Like me, you understand realpolitik. The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must. That's why I feel much better discussing these matters with you; we speak the same language."

"So, what do you want me to do and what can I expect in return."

"For now, I would like you to work with us on securing the school and keeping an eye on Dunn and Simons. In return, you'll get to become part of the school's management committee with all the privileges that go with it, which should expand tremendously as soon as we resolve Dunn's loyalty and Simons position one way or the other.

"That works for me."

"It's a deal then; let's toast to it."

Carl was already thinking of how to hide a mic in Bear House. Listening to those recordings would be boring, though and time-consuming. Someone would have to be assigned to the task. Right now, all he wanted was to go to his apartment to have sex with his three catamites from Eagle House and Ivor's two exotic houseboys installed in his new harem room.

"Too bad you're not interested in young boys, Max, that would have been an easy way to reward you. If by chance one of our prefects or older boys were to your taste though, I would do whatever was necessary to make him available to you. Sorry, this isn't the best of time to discuss that with your loss."

"Yes, certainly that is not on my mind for the moment, but I heard you. I'll leave you now; tomorrow you'll have to show me the surveillance equipment."

"I was told it was the best and my experience with it has always been more than satisfying. Let's get back together first thing in the morning."

Once he was gone, Carl went straight to his apartment. He had not told Max about Perry's files yet, of the information about the government-hidden resources he was certain Dunn had kept for himself, and if true, their importance could not be underestimated. Max would need to know; there might be references to them in the recordings. Carl felt the future was looking brighter than ever with Max as his ally, but for now, his thoughts ran to what pleasures he would enjoy tonight. Ivor's boys were always exceptional and well trained to please a man; perhaps he could have them play with the others, find interesting ways to spice up his evening.

***

Night had fallen; Louise had taken the first watch and made her report to Dunn with the radio they had brought with them. The couch was now empty and her only company was the horses still in the living room. Brett and Bob had preferred to sleep with Walt. The sky was clear with the Milky Way visible in the moonless night. A short span from the house lay the woods and for the first time, she found it ominous thinking of what could be hidden there. There could be hundreds of them, right in front of her, without her knowledge.

After checking on the little ones, she went to the bedroom where the two boys and the teen were resting. Walt was not asleep, Bob was lying against him in a gentle embrace, the older boy playing with his dark locks. Beside them and a little apart, Brett was lost in slumber; he was the one she had come to fetch.

Gently she woke him, careful not to cause any alarm, and signaled him to follow her. Walt, curious, untangled himself from Bob and followed them.

Minutes later, they were outside with the drone, while a sleepy Brett was readying it for a night flight.

"The infrared camera should be able to see any animal or feral in those woods. How far do you want me to send it?" asked the boy.

"To the far side of that stretch of woods, about a mile according to the map, and zigzag so we don't miss anything. Will this leave us enough battery power for later?"

"We should have enough; I brought a second set of batteries."

"Perfect, then let it go."

The drone went up in the clear night sky with a slight whirl sound that was soon imperceptible; it then took off in the direction of the woods.

Brett placed the laptop on a picnic table on the side of the house and they all sat together on the bench looking at the screen. Louise was apprehensive, expecting any minute to see the appearance of a multitude of white dots indicating ferals. She held her gun tightly, scanning the edge of the woods, ready to react to any threat.

Brett was careful to keep the drone high enough, well above the treetops to avoid damaging it.

As each minute passed, the lack of evidence lowered Louise's unease and she started to relax. Her hunch of a pack hidden in the forest had been erroneous, but it made her realize how dangerous the mission really was: nothing could guarantee their safety. At the same time, it had to be done for the sake of all the boys left behind at Saint Xavier. Her only regret was to have chosen boys she cared about to accompany her. Greg and some of his prefects would have been a better choice, maybe less reliable, but expendable in her eyes, and she would not have that gnawing anxiety that had taken hold of her since they had seen what had happened to little William's community.

"There, I've reached the other side. Should I bring it back? There's nothing out there," said Brett, relieved. He had felt Louise's tension.

"Yes, bring it back. Sorry to have woken the two of you for nothing."

"On the contrary, you were right, Louise; it was a great way to check our surroundings. We should have done it before stopping for the night. An easy way to know what's around us," said Walt.

"Yes, that makes sense," chimed in Brett. "And if we moved only at night, that would be a good way to avoid surprises; we have the advantage with infrared night vision."

"I didn't think of that. You could be right, but is it reliable enough?"

"I would say that the sensors work well outside, but in a town with buildings that's something else, we can't see that well through roofs or walls," answered Brett, still watching the controls closely. "Only problem would be the batteries."

"Let's go back to sleep, we'll discuss it again in the morning," said Louise. "Go ahead, Walt, I'll stay with Brett till we secure the drone."

Walt went back inside, silently.

"It's on its way back; won't be long now," observed Brett, as Louise watched the sky and listened for the drone's whirl.

Brett was about to stop watching the screen, readying for a smooth landing when he sat back down.

"Louise…"

"Yes, Brett?"

"There's something, look!"

He left the drone hovering and he was pointing at a white dot on the screen, right at the edge of the woods.

Louise reacted immediately, she stood up, aimed in the direction of the intruder, and was about to fire a few shots, but changed her mind at the last minute.

"Is it moving?"

"No, answered Brett."

"What does it look like? Could it be an animal?"

"Hard to tell, it looks like what I saw the other night. It's right at the edge, probably behind a tree." Brett's eyes had left the screen to look at the trees under the drone, trying to identify what was hidden there.

"Lower your gun. I mean you no harm." The voice was old but strong.

Brett returned his eyes to the screen; there was only one dot.

"Is he alone, Brett?" asked Louise.

"Pretty sure," responded Brett.

"Land the drone and warn Walt and Bob. All of you stay in the house and watch from there." Louise lowered her gun slightly.

As Brett entered the house, the man showed himself and came closer. He wasn't holding any weapon and Louise eased up a little. She could see him better now, he looked like a hobo with long gray hair and beard, patched up clothes and wearing a big backpack.

"How did you know I was there? Seems I scared you some."

"You could say that. Stay where you are." There was a smell emanating from the man, different from the boys' earlier stench but still a strong one. "What do you want?"

"I want nothing. Got all I need."

"Are you alone?" Louise was still wary, watching the woods behind the man closely.

"More or less."

"What do you mean?"

"There were three of us, but I lost two. I ain't too bothered 'bout being alone though; suits me fine."

"We can give you some food, if you need it."

"No thank you, Ma'am. Told you, I'm just passing through. Saw you and your boys settle in earlier."

"Why did you wait to show yourself until now?"

"Don't like company much, never have, except for those of my kind."

"We can find you a place to sleep," she was reluctant to say that, she didn't want that smell in the house, "You can wash and rest here for the night." There was little chance to get him to wash, but she had to try. She also thought he could be the solution to one of her problems; he could stay with the three little ones and care for them while they were away. Was it luck that had put him on their path?

"Don't like houses either. Thanks, but no thanks, Ma'am."

"We leave tomorrow; the three little ones that you saw will stay here, alone, for a bit. We can't take them with us. Perhaps you could watch over them?"

There was a long silence. Louise wondered if telling him that had been such a good idea. He looked harmless enough, but you never knew whom you were dealing with.

"I could do that, but from a distance. Don't want to be bothered by them brats."

"That would do perfectly. We should be back in a day or two."

"You sure you're coming back? Where're you going? Why leave them? This world is not safe. "

"We're looking for a pack of ferals. We want to know where they are and their number."

"Those that attacked Melanie's group?"

"You knew her? The boys came from there…yes, that could be the pack or another, we don't know and we don't want it to happen to our group."

"Good luck with that."

"What do you mean?"

"I prefer to stay by myself, you can hide that way, not be found. I saw them."

"You saw the attack?"

"No, I saw that pack you're talking of. In fact, as I was watching you, I wondered if I should warn you."

"Warn us?"

"Yeah, it's not a pack; it's an army and growing every day. Told you, I saw them. You won't find 'em, they'll find you. They're sending scouts all around and gathering more and more."

Louise's worst fears were being confirmed.

"How many?"

"Difficult to say, five, ten thousand, no real idea. Haven't counted them, but I tell you, an army!"

"How far from here?"

"Real close, no more than three, four miles, last time I was there, that is."

"That close?" Her hunch could have been true; they could have been all through those woods.

"Yep. You should turn around and go back where you came from."

"We'll do that as soon as I've seen them with my own eyes."

"You don't believe me?"

"I do, but I need a better estimate of their number."

"As you wish, I warned you, I done my good deed. It's up to you."

"And I thank you for it. Won't you come with us? I mean, when we return?"

"Certainly not, gatherings attract them like bees to honey; I'll stay by myself."

"Will you watch over the little kids while we're gone? It should be only for a few hours, a day at most, if they're that close."

"That I can do, but as I said, from afar and don't count on me to care for them if you don't come back at all."

"It won't happen. Thank you again. We will go early in the morning." With the drone, we won't even need to put ourselves at risk, she thought, gaining back some of the confidence she had lost. "What direction?"

"That way," the man pointed northeast, the direction they had followed from the start. "They're holed up in kind of a commercial area with stores and stuff. It's like a beehive; you can't miss'em. Was thinkin' of leavin' the area myself, it's not safe around here anymore."

After those last words, the man retraced his steps and disappeared again.

"What's your name? Can you tell me your name, mister?"

There was no answer, only silence. Guy is not too talkative. He knew of Melanie's group though, probably visited there a few times.

Louise went back into the house. The boys had listened to the conversation and were looking at her expectantly; Walt had one arm draped over Bob, in a protective way.

"Brett, go fetch your drone and computer. Seems we'll really need our sleep tonight. Go back to bed. Tomorrow is an important day. I still have close to five hours of watch ahead. Walt, you'll be next. It was late; she would give a call to Miles in the morning just before they left to keep him informed of their find. Just in case.

***

Why was it impossible for him to be satisfied despite all that had been given to him? He was in bed with two beautiful boys, able to make love with them in any way he could wish. With no fear of the cops or anyone else banging on the door. He still couldn't shake off this feeling of guilt and doubt that clung to him like a leech and would not let go.

Yet, all he was thinking about was Brett and how it would feel when he entered his lovely behind. He was sick; he was no better than Carl was. He said words of love, but they were fake. Those undermining thoughts were still with him, taking hold without warning, with images of the Manila boy he had raped flashing as warnings in his head. He was certainly trying to do the right thing for them, but would he, if he weren't able to enjoy their bodies in return? The real problem was deeper than that. He questioned what was at the core of his sexuality. Having sex with children, boys, was wrong, evil, even if you did not use coercion, did not manipulate them, and even if the pleasure was mutual: you still destroyed them. He had heard this truism all his life. Whatever argument he could oppose to it seemed suddenly feeble and self-centered, only there because he wanted to justify his cravings.

"What's going on?" demanded Sven, lying on his belly, his rump raised over a pillow.

Lost in his thoughts, he had released the pressure when he was about to bury himself in Sven's welcoming receptacle. Anthony, lying on his side, was watching them with interest.

"What are you thinking about?" The boy was facing him with an inquisitive look, perspiration on his brow, resting after a first bout of sex with the man. It was hot in the room, the window was open, but there was no breeze.

"Nothing, just telling myself how lucky I was to have the two of you," and Alex that I enjoyed a few hours ago, Sean, Riichi, soon Brett, others whose name I forgot or never asked for…

"Sven's ready to take you, show me how you do it now that he likes it. I've been at it with Mikey all evening already; I can take a backseat for a while."

Miles was recovering slowly, trying to push away those doubts, lurid images…his hands holding firmly the young and compliant body under him.

He needed to lose himself in the sexual act and forget about the burden of guilt. He was no saint, that was for sure, but he tried to do what was right in the situation he was in. The two boys had been the ones asking for it, they had come to him, and he had even tried to discourage them at first. Now things had changed and old social codes were mostly irrelevant. You had to form new ones: your own.

After a few jabs and some pressure, he felt the stretched boy's ring muscle give in and let him pass through. Sven was now well used to it and Miles did not stop his march forward until he was fully embedded in the velvety and welcoming sheath. There were a few spasms in response to the invasion: pain was now a part of the boy's pleasure, as he let out a small gasp while getting ready for the upcoming onslaught. This was the way he liked it – wanted it, and Miles saw no reason to refuse him.

It would have horrified all those right-minded people that shunned boylove in all its forms, but they were not here anymore with their narrow-minded ethics. Miles was finally able to repel those dark thoughts that had suddenly taken hold of him; he pounded away with a new determination, a sort of revenge. Kneading the flesh, kissing, licking, caressing, expressing in every way possible his love of the wonderful creature under him, and appreciating even more the moans and words of pleasure, encouragement, coming from Sven, entranced and passionate.

"Wow! That's what I call a real fuck," said Anthony, dreamily. "You two really like each other."

Miles did not use words to answer him, he simply brought the boy to him kissing him deeply; he then placed him above Sven, the two boys back to back, Anthony facing him. In response, instinctively, the boy raised his legs, exposing himself to the man. Miles pulled out of Sven to plunge his slick and stiff member in the offered opening. Then for the next fifteen minutes, he went from one hole to the other, finishing at last his rod deeply buried in the blond boy, while his tongue explored the dark haired boy's mouth.

A few moments later, as he watched Sven and Anthony put on a show for him, kissing and humping without restraint, Miles thought that, yes, he was very much like Carl in many ways. They certainly had many common fantasies, perhaps more extreme because of their particular sexual drives that, until now, could not be expressed openly in any way. Probably like him, he had dreamed of being the master of a harem of beautiful boys at his disposal and obeying his every wishes. He had imagined even darker scenarios…of capturing a boy, or several to satisfy his needs, of raping them without any consideration for their feelings or pain, they were objects meant to serve and satisfy his desires, nothing more, held in cages. He had also more romantically dreamed of meeting the perfect child who would share his love and delight in their mating. Those were all fantasies, effectual masturbation material, but with no connection to the way he led his life.

That last one perhaps wasn't among Carl's fantasies anymore but at the same time, to his knowledge, Carl had never raped a boy. Miles had done it once. True he was drunk and miserable, the boy had been a prostitute that had accepted to engage in sex, but he had forced him, taken what had been refused. That was inexcusable. Yes, he was no saint, far from it.

If he was honest, he had to say that the pain he associated with anal intercourse was an integral part of his cravings, if not pain at least discomfort. He had had proof of that with Sven. The boy's pain had heightened his own pleasure. He did not think it was the pain itself; he never had fantasies of torture or of deliberately hurting a boy. In fact, for him, their body was regarded as sacred. He could not stand to see them scarred or amputated; even tattoos were unfitting. The idea of killing a child for pleasure was inconceivable. Why consume such beautiful and precious beings, to be left with nothing.

No, for him, the pain was probably a sign of the man's dominance over the boy, perhaps also a reminder of his own masculinity, and its acceptance by the boy, a clear proof of their love. He was not satisfied with that explanation, but he thought it reflected a certain truth. He was still a work in progress in everything that concerned boylove. Before his arrival at Saint Xavier, his experiences had been few and far between rough and distressing, unsatisfying short affairs. Now, his sexuality had been given a chance to develop and thrive, he had learned a lot and he was still trying to find his way, to better himself and his attitudes.

There was a difference between what you could imagine in your fantasies and what you could act upon in real life. Maybe this was the main difference between Carl and himself?

Besides the fact that he had sex with, let's say it, children, Miles had strained to put limits on his behavior, and had accepted a degree of frustration he believed to be in the best interest of the boys. Despite his cravings, for a time, he had refrained from having anal intercourse with Sven, which had been however the most fulfilling experience of his sexual life, this, until the boy had expressly asked that he resume that practice. Refusing the boy's demand and depriving himself of that pleasure would have meant hurting the boy's feelings in another way. He had learned there were no simple answers, perhaps no right answers either, his behavior was far from perfect, he had a clear knowledge of that, but he was making progress. He would never reach perfection, his only goal was to do his best and be able to look himself in the mirror every morning; to find a balance between his acts and the moral issues inherited from so many years of unending bashing. Was it wrong to show his love of boys, to want to enjoy a rich and satisfying life with them? Not anymore.

His cock was hardening again, the night was still young, and his two, willing and lovely partners were just an arm's reach away.

***

For Carl Fisher, moral issues were of no importance, he had never really cared for them. He had played at subverting them all his life. While he wasn't yet completely free of the old world restrictions, he was shedding them as fast as his rise to power permitted. He was no hypocrite, unlike Dunn.

Cole was an accident, something that had come up too early, but it had brought him much pleasure. Enrico had been his pet with a particular status that so far had protected him. The club boys had been the result of a process, now used to help him achieve his goals.

It had really started with Paul and Peter, the two very young Saint Xavier boys that he was now treating more or less, as he would his future catamites. They were the first to logically inhabit the special 'harem room,' adjoining his apartment. Slowly they had lost any free will, obeying Carl's every whim. The few privileges initially granted and used to lure them in had been removed. All of it could be accomplished because they were first-year boys, without the support that would have protected them in later years. Their fate might have improved a little if he had not been deprived of Ivor's Lorentz boys, whom he planned to start his collection with. All that he intended to do with those two had been laid on them, since then, Paul was 'head' and Peter was 'ass' and he loved that game with them where he could plunge indifferently in Paul's wet cavity or Peter's tight chute. A perfect combination that saved him the use of lube most times. He didn't mind some pain for them anyway; they had to learn their lesson and be grateful for all he did for the school and therefore also for them. Each boy's role wasn't set in stone either and Carl loved to surprise them with variations.

Now that he had inherited Ivor's two houseboys, things would even up more. He could do as he wished with them, with little need for precautions. However, they were older, and might try to escape, something he was wary of. Max's presence by his side could help control them, but in the meantime putting them on a leash was both necessary and enjoyable, made of metal and strong leather he'd wanted to use them for some time, and once around the boy's neck they would be quite difficult to take off without a special key. They were probably too much for Paul and Peter, though both were worthy candidates. Soon he hoped he could walk Chanchai and Joao or any other harem boy in the school alleys pulling them by their necks, which would be fun. He had many more ideas on how to treat his harem boys and he had other equipment to try out.

But first things first, he had to assert himself as their new master, one who demanded total obedience. The first session would be important for that; there should be no need to go to extremes as he had for Cole. He would bring in Paul and Peter too and why not Enrico, that would instill a degree of fear and help them understand their place in the new order of things. It might be wise to enlist Greg; being alone with five kids to handle could prove precarious; yes, he would send Enrico to fetch him.

***

Raymond Tools started the evening confident that things would continue to proceed as before, going further or even all the way, but it was not to be. Chand had refused to participate and had even been reluctant to undress. Yet he had been willing, even eager and excited, just the night before, it was inexplicable. Worse still, he gave no explanation for this setback, leaving the man confused and highly frustrated with no idea how to restore the relationship. True, many boys were inconstant, but that did not make the situation any less frustrating for him. Enraged and about to commit irreparable harm, he sent the boy back to Puma House as a safeguard, leaving him alone in the apartment.

He did not stay there long, deciding that he needed to vent some of the fury building up in him. Carl was annoying but he was right. Why bother handling those boys with gentleness and understanding, they were not worth it. Chandler would get one last chance, and then he would take what he wanted.

For now, he needed another boy. One that would make no fuss and let him do whatever he wanted. Who could that be? One of the club boys? Most of them were paired with a senior by now. No, he wanted someone new, why not a virgin like that kid at the farm? What was his name? Gary, yes, Gary. He had no regrets or remorse, he would do it again, it had been such a release, and he needed something like that right now.

Carl was right again. It would be great to have a pool of boys available to satisfy his every need, a bordello for the school staff. He could have asked Carl, who had Ivor's two whores, but that would mean yet again admitting his failure with Chandler, an open door to more sarcasm. He knew most boys in the school, a cute shy one was what he needed. One who wouldn't dare tell anyone, who would obey a teacher, whatever was asked of him. He had to think, there were a few such ones in the lower grades…

***

The man was catching his breath. Would you believe it? Those two little devils…damn, they were good. Doing the most sexy, kinky, stuff they could muster, playing at being the best at bringing him pleasure and satisfaction, each one competing with the other. At that age, once they had put aside their few inhibitions, there was nothing to stop them, certainly not Burt.

Esteban had been the undisputed leader with years of grooming by whoever had raised him, but Ethan, who had asked to share the man's bed every night again, was rapidly catching up.

Chubby Margarita was no match for them. Would he ever revert to girls now that he had enjoyed those two? He honestly doubted it, if he had the choice that is. In the old world, his present activity would have sent him directly to jail, without passing go or collecting two hundred bucks.

His cock was twitching again, delivering his third load in the last hour or so, a notable feat even for him. Pulling out of Ethan he said, "I'll take a pause guys, you're exhausting me. Two like you is too much."

"Come on, Burt, you can't leave me like this. I spent the past twenty minutes getting ready, while you shagged Ethan. Now I'm one load behind or rather I need one more load in my backside to be even with him tonight." The boy, for a large part still in the shadows, had this little smile full of promises that Burt could not resist.

"Okay, okay, show me; let's see if it's good enough to bring me back into the game."

Esteban fetched the second battery lamp to bring more light, and reveal the result of all his efforts. He had gone all the way this time, from makeup to dress up. Aside from missing large hips and boobs, he looked great: a real magazine pinup was standing in front of him, or rather a perfect Lolita.

"Come see your Humbert, baby," said Burt opening his arms.

"What?" asked Esteban, who had not grasped the reference.

"Never mind, come closer, I want to get a good look at you."

The boy complied eagerly. His work was indeed impressive, considering how little he had at his disposal. Burt did not doubt that he had practiced this transformation before for the benefit of some of his clients. Ethan was impressed too, and fully aroused, his hard little stick pointing straight up.

"I think Ethan likes you a lot, looking like that." The boy had expertly used lipstick and mascara and put on long false eyelashes, Burt wondered where he had found them.

"Want to kiss those lips Ethan?"

The boy did not answer but came closer.

"But I did it all for you, Burt."

"I know and I appreciate it very much, but what's the harm in sharing?" Burt was quite aroused at the idea of seeing the two boys making out. Strangely, he preferred Esteban as a boy rather than a girl and would try to tell him later, if it didn't hurt his feelings. The odd kinky thing here and there was more exciting than the complete transformation. He would have been the last to think he could react that way.

Ethan took the initiative and brought his lips to Esteban's red mouth who did not refuse the kiss. He was not of the kind to refuse anything; he pulled Ethan to him. Wearing a white lace nightie, almost transparent satin white stockings that came to mid-thigh with garters, he looked quite virginal for such a sexually promiscuous boy.

"Take me," he said in Ethan's ear, adding a deft lick with his tongue.

Ethan did not hesitate; it would be his first fuck to Burt's knowledge. Esteban had already laid back, bringing the other boy with him and had raised his legs. Ethan pulled down his partner's satin shorts a little and in no time, was at the gate, which he entered with a small hiss of pleasure.

Burt was watching the proceedings, more ready and harder than ever and without the need of anyone touching him.

He rested his back against the pillow, waiting for an instant of deliberation before joining the fray. Esteban was watching him, licking his lips…in anticipation? What was the boy really thinking? If he believed Margerita, this had been his main trade for a few years now, however revolting it might sound. Did he really like it or was he putting on a show like he had been taught? Was he a great actor or a natural? Whatever the answer, he was going to get it.

Burt raised himself and grasped both boys, placing them on their side without interrupting anything. Then moving behind Esteban, he placed his hands on the two smooth mounds and pushed them slightly apart to get a better view. He loved their consistence and feel as he watched Ethan's energetic cocklet move in and out between them.

"Keep going, Ethan, you're doing good. I'll try something new."

Burt placed the tip of his glans at the base of Ethan's cock then exerted some pressure against the hard stick in motion and also against Esteban's moist orifice. All the while deriving great pleasure in this, most sensitive, part of his anatomy.

"You can do it," declared the boy.

"Do what?" asked Burt, who had embraced both boys and joined the battle of kisses.

"Go in. I've done it already with a bigger tool than Ethan's already in."

Was he talking about double penetration? That puny boy, not weighting much more than eighty pounds all wet.

"You're kidding me."

Burt had never done a double penetration. True, he had been with two girls, and a few times three girls, but never shared them with another male before.

"I tell you, you can go ahead, try it. Ethan leave it in for a minute till Burt joins you, it should be fun."

Burt did not hesitate; he followed his instincts and pushed in. Ethan's cocklet was ridiculously small compared to his own and it did not add much to the total girth. Besides which Esteban was already well stretched from earlier and he was no novice. Burt fucked in earnest, thoroughly enjoying the tight hole and the hard little stick to the side he was rubbing against. It did not take long before he felt it throb and could see an expression of exhilaration and then contentment on Ethan's face. Burt accelerated the pace; he knew his fourth climax in such a short time would take him longer. The boy's still rigid stick was soon cast out, not capable of competing with the energetic motions of Burt's adult rod steadily pounding and rocking Esteban who endured the assault without a flinch. It lasted for a good fifteen minutes before Burt found his release and exploded deep in the child's bowels with a cry of joy and catching back his breath.

"We're even now," said Esteban, turning around to French kiss the man. "Now you can rest up, Burt."

"Yes, I think I'll do that but first I'll go wash that lipstick, you little imp. The two of you should do it too, we got lipstick everywhere."

They spent a great time in the bathroom for the next five minutes before finally cuddling in the bed and finding sleep.

Come morning, Burt woke up exhausted with his cock hypersensitive. He could not remember how many times he had cum or fucked each boy; it was all blurry in his head. He had not been intoxicated by alcohol but by those two wonderful boys who had kept him awake and active a good part of the night. It was a feat he would remember for years to come, perhaps the first of many. The two boys were still sleeping, one on each side of him. Ethan was on his back almost touching, one leg over his own, Esteban was on his belly a little apart, his face turned toward him with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. Dreaming? Happy?

Burt would have to let his cock rest before using it again, at least for a day. The boys' holes were another concern, they would probably be sore for some time. True, he had not been particularly careful and Ethan was not as used to it as Esteban. Hopefully, there would be no real damage. Later he would do a thorough check, but for now, they could sleep, they certainly earned it. He could do with more sleep himself, but he had the other kids to take care of and there was the food problem. Many of the latest houses they visited had already been emptied by others. With the number of mouths he had to feed, food was becoming a problem. A solution had to be found. The only one he could think of was that school he'd been told about, Saint Xavier. But then another problem arose, how to get there? What dangers would they have to face on the way? He also realized that it would mean the end of the sex nirvana he had reached these last few days. These practices would have to cease. This was not at all to his liking–more so after last night. Perhaps he could keep something going with Ethan and Esteban, if they learned to be discreet. He sure would miss them otherwise, even if there were women at that school and Margarita.

He took a few minutes to examine each boy and revel in their beauty.

Ethan, whom he had known for a few years now, was the all-American boy, lean with an open eager face. There was almost no baby fat left; he would certainly develop an appreciated athletic build with his long legs and arms, flat belly with a charming innie belly button. When you made love to him, he was lively, proactive, and energetic. He had a harmonious face full of mischief with a nice mouth, pulpy lips and gray eyes, a light spray of freckles upon his slightly upturned nose and cheeks, framed by longish chestnut hair. He had an adorable uncut cocklet, now at rest, laying over his sack, holding two oblong orbs that Burt had learned to tease and play with. His buns were hidden from his sight, but he knew they were firm and responsive to his attention. His thighs were curved and perfectly adapted to the hand that would like to caress them, ending by a bony knee before you could reach the calves and attractive feet. How could he have been oblivious of such treasures for so many years?

Then there was Esteban.

He was certainly the epitome of sensuality in the boy category. Burt had not found one blemish that could steal from him the title of boy god. A striking face, deep green eyes that held your stare, ruby lips made for kissing, a straight nose just the right size, jet black glossy hair which called for a caress, a delicate body that still displayed an inner strength, lithe and agile, a rather large and rosy areola on a well-defined torso. There was no tan line on his body, just some areas with a lighter or darker tone. Further down, a generous pear-shaped ass awaited you that you could caress, knead, and play with for hours, with slightly larger hips that gave it a feminine touch, not speaking of what it did to your shaft when you entered its recesses. Golden, smooth, satiny skin you could get lost in. Legs, and above all thighs to die for, those luscious thighs, you wanted to lick and bite gently, roam over and never leave if it wasn't for some other delicacy awaiting you close by. The appealing cocklet with its uncovered rosy glans above a velvety sack with its two petite marbles to finish with the inviting, mysterious, and flawless aperture between the lovely cheeks you could tease and explore before going further.

Damn, I'm hard again…

***

It was quite a different story a few miles from there in Fisher's apartment. Six boys in all had spent the night with Carl and Greg, who had brought Milo Hughes with him. Now that the Thorvald episode was over, Greg had retrieved the boy and planned to extract as much fun from him as he could. That changed when he entered and saw they also had Ivor's houseboys and Carl's catamites, with whom they could do with, more or less, as they pleased. The possibilities increased. Carl seemed quite open to experimenting, as was suggested by the leashes on Chanchai and Joao's necks as well as the many sex toys and gadgets that were on display in the room, ready to be used. It seemed he had amassed every conceivable toy he could lay his hands on. Greg could see dildos, anal plugs of all sizes and shapes, plastic, wood, metal, rubber ones, gloves, speculums, paddles, whips, manacles, all kinds of bindings, in leather and metal, cock rings, gags, and harnesses, there were also others whose use or function he could only guess. An impressive collection–they were in for a lot of fun.

For the boys, the combination of Greg's imagination and Carl's determination to explore all of his forbidden desires was very bad news indeed. All of them noticed the collection and the dangerous atmosphere in the room.

Carl warned them right away that anything that happened in that room or the adjoining holding cell, was not to be spoken of elsewhere, or the repercussions would be very unpleasant indeed. This was taken very seriously by all of them who did not want to be subjected to some of the more ominous toys on display.

For that first night–the first of many Greg hoped–they stayed on the safe side and avoided any extremes. The boys were obedient and made no fuss whatever was asked of them. Young Milo was a very willing participant wanting to try quite a few items himself: his masochistic side was now well established.

Greg wanted to use his bag to asphyxiate one or two of those kids, but resisted the urge. The opportunity would come in due time and it should not take too long. For some strange reason, he fancied Paul as his first victim. He seemed to be the most fearful of the lot. Chanchai too, who had been particularly uncooperative during that fateful weekend at Thorvald's, and was probably the cause that led to his inappropriate behavior with Anthony. Greg did not forget or forgive, ever. From now on, it would just be a game: he could not take it to the end and kill one of them, as had almost been the case at the Alcomb farm. Did he even want to take a life, or was it more amusing to simply go to the limit? After all, you could do that an infinite number of times and if once in a while there was a fatality, well, there were many more boys available. He would have to avoid the presence of Harvey though, that kid really had no control over himself. He was realizing that his own views were definitely changing, was he softening? Was it bad?

Whatever, it had been a most satisfying night. He had sampled all the boys present except for Enrico whom Carl insisted on keeping for himself, protecting him from any disagreeable experience, though he had witnessed the mistreatment of the others. In a sense, Milo was protected too, being a willing participant.

At night, Enrico and Milo were allowed to sleep in the same bed as Carl and Greg. The catamites Paul and Peter slept on the carpet beside them. An arrangement Carl thought fitting to their new status, leaving them at their disposal if their services were required. Ivor's boys were locked in the harem-holding cell, the leashes around their necks secured to the bed frames.

As the morning's sun rays reached him, while listening to the soft murmur of the air conditioning, one hand played with Milo's buns while the other held the boy's head in place over his cock. Greg thought of how lucky he was and wondered what sex toys they would use the following night.

***

The silence was only broken by the soft murmur of the two boys sleeping; a light breeze was ruffling their hair coming from the open window. It was already hot in the room. Miles had awoken, more or less in the same position that he had gone to sleep, spooning Sven and Anthony.

His morning wood was comfortably settled in the blond boy's crack and he could not resist rubbing it in the moist cleft between the soft buttocks, while gently kissing the boy's neck and earlobe. As he left the bed to relieve himself, he was careful not to disturb them and on returning resumed the same position. He could hope for one more hour of sleep before his duties began.

As a golden light was bathing the three of them, slumber was escaping him with one hand coursing along the flank of one boy after the other. His doubts of the previous night were forgotten, he felt at peace and content. Who would not be in the presence of these two precious boys, the dream of any boylover's life that had taken flesh? He did not tire of watching them sleep, letting his gaze explore every detail of their anatomy. He had to keep those images etched in his memory forever, to be always aware of the chance that had been offered to him.

Sven was the leaner of the two, while he could not be considered thin, he did have narrow hips, a generous bum and thighs, and long legs. His skin had taken a deep honey color that contrasted wonderfully with the porcelain white of his nether regions that had not been exposed to the sun. It was a very arousing feature for Miles, the virgin white of his buttocks, the antithesis of the sexual acts they practiced daily now. He had beautiful hands and feet that looked molded from a sculptor's work, perfectly proportioned and not gangly like many boys his age. His long whitish hair framed a long, delicate, and pensive face. He could not see his clear blue eyes, only the long lashes, but could easily recall them from memory; they reflected his caring and loving soul, above a slightly upturned nose, rosy, supple lips, and a well-rounded chin. His honeyed, smooth skin was a pleasure to touch and caress. He was as hairless as when he had been born with only some fuzz on his arms and the back of his neck. Fortunately, it seemed that puberty was still some time away and that Miles would be able to enjoy his boyish perfection for some time yet. His innie belly button on a flat stomach was adorable as well as his two pink sensitive areolas on a well-crafted torso. He had a nicely formed uncut cocklet and a small sack holding two marbles the size of cherries. This equipment was not at the top of Miles's interest but had its use to stimulate and bring pleasure to the boy.

You would think that besides such marvels, Anthony would pale, but not at all, he held his ground very well. His dark locks and seductive face could hold any lover's gaze. His body was in no way outdone, more fleshy with a firm and well pronounced round butt where Sven's had more of an oval form, equally long legs with voluptuous creamy thighs. His skin was lighter with less pronounced tan lines while as smooth and flawless, he had just started puberty with a few hairs starting to sprout above a cute and slender cocklet with reasonably sized balls. His pretty mouth held a very agile tongue that he knew how to use to bring you to heaven. Anthony was far more experienced in sex than Sven or Miles, and had no inhibitions – he loved it. This brought an interesting flavor to his lovemaking, the perfect complement to Sven's candid innocence.

The duo that he held in his arms was the best thing that could happen to him. Even if he were still attracted to other boys, those two would remain deep in his heart, bound by love, even if they left him to have a life of their own.

As his reverie was coming to an end, the boys were starting to stir and to stretch their long limbs, soon Sven pushed himself back against Miles rubbing his bum casually on his semi-rigid erection.

"No time for that, unfortunately, sweetie, it will have to wait."

"We could do a quickie," suggested Anthony with a yawn. "But I need to pee first."

He jumped out of bed, careful to show off his delectable bum and ran out of the room naked.

"I'll go too. I hope you'll still be here when we come back," said Sven, with a flashing smile. How could you resist those boys? A quickie it would be then.

But the best-laid plans sometimes don't unfold as you would like.

***

After feeding them oats, Walt was disposing of the horse waste produced during the night. No one wanted the little kids to walk in it and put it everywhere.

It had not been too difficult for Louise to convince William and the two others to stay and wait for them. She told them that besides looking for the ferals, they would be looking for Melanie, and if found, try to bring her back. She was quite sure she had escaped and the boys should hold no grudge against her for not coming back to look for them. No one would believe there could be any survivors of such a feral attack; she had been surprised herself. Melanie was certainly mourning them.

"How happy she will be when she finds you safe and waiting for her."

"Yes, she will be. I miss her," said William.

"I can't promise anything and if we're not successful this time, there will be others. We'll probably be back by mid-afternoon." Louise didn't like giving false hopes to the boys, but that was the least damaging solution she had found to make sure they stayed put and did not try anything foolish.

"What shall we do while you're gone?"

"The same that you did before: hide and stay silent. But you'll not be alone."

"No? Who's staying with us?" asked William looking at Brett, Bob, and Walt."

"Look outside, see that man by the trees? He'll keep watch over you while we're gone."

William looked at the old man suspiciously.

"Are you sure? He looks like a tramp to me. Will he come in the house?" There was some fear in his voice.

"No, he wants to stay outside."

"Better that way," asserted the young boy with a smug expression. "You must be careful of strangers." He shook his shoulders as if to push away bad memories, looking sad and fragile.

Louise took him in her arms where he was soon joined by the two others.

"I'm very sorry that we can't take you with us, but what we are doing is dangerous. You'll be much safer here with…" she realized she didn't know the guy's name, "that man outside. We'll be back soon."

She reluctantly let go of them.

"Boys, we should be going now. The sooner we find them, the sooner we'll go back home."

Yes, Saint Xavier was their home now, that was a fact, and she was ready to fight and risk everything to keep it.

They saddled the horses and took the direction of the forest passing close to the tramp seated under a tree and smoking what looked like a reefer.

"You didn't tell me your name yesterday, sir"

"It's been a long time since I was called sir, ma'am. Name's Jack, pleased to meet you."

"Well, Jack, glad to meet you too, and, please, take good care of those boys."

"I will, from a distance, but I will. You can count on me."

As they entered the woods, she gave him a last farewell with her hand and then concentrated on the task ahead.

Keeping her senses sharp, she led them to the other side without any incident.

"What's that wall?"

They had come upon it as soon as they had left the cover of the trees. From their high-seated position on the horses and due to the hilly nature of their surroundings, it was easy to answer that question.

"A golf course; obviously, part of some gated community, there are many such ones all over and more if you get near Hilton Head," said Bob. You could see part of the greens and here and there large houses with a prime view of the golf course.

"Should be Rosewood, If I'm not wrong, I saw the signs when I drove this way more than once, I had friends that lived not far from here," said Walt.

"How do we cross it?" asked Brett. "If we climb over the wall we would have to leave the horses."

"There should be a gate. I've never come this way before, too many obstacles, houses, people."

This was not good, thought Louise; it would take them a long time to go around it. Leaving the horses behind would be stupid and suicidal.

"Why not use the drone to see if there's a way through?" suggested Brett.

"Of course."

"Why not send it all the way instead?" interjected Walt, "We would be done in an hour or two without exposing anyone."

"It can stay up forty to forty-five minutes, no more. But that's probably enough to have a good look at them and it doesn't matter if we lose the drone, I can make others," concurred Brett, clearly tempted by such a safe resolution.

Louise thought about it for a moment before answering.

"No, let's try to find a passage. We will use that idea as a last resort. I want to have a look at them with my own eyes, being there can make a difference. If Jack has seen them; there must be a way through."

Brett got off his horse and set to work right away, soon the humming of the drone could be heard as it went up ready to follow the wall.

"Right or left?"

Louise looked at both sides. On the right, you could see for some distance and there was clearly no gateway, the left was blocked by a bend in the forest. It was an easy choice.

"Go left, Brett."

The drone veered in that direction and Louise came to look at the screen with the boy while Walt and Bob were watching the surrounding area, on alert.

After a few minutes, they found a breach in the wall, and tracks that showed that a great number of people had passed that way. The feral army?

"Let's see what those tracks can tell us," said Louise, apprehensive at what she might find.

It was not just a breach in the wall. It was open for more than twenty-five feet. The ground had been trampled as if a herd of elephants had gone through it. Louise judged they had gone both ways, once from there and through the woods and came back across the golf course. There were a few tools on the ground that had been used, from hammers to pickaxes, shovels. She could see also two bodies, one by the forest edge, and the other on the golf course.

She went to the closest one, putting one hand in front of her nose and mouth. The corpse had bloated in the hot sun and been scavenged by animals. Even so, she could recognize a bullet wound in the chest.

"I think they came this way to attack Melanie's group and some of them died on the way back from their injuries. This all fits our hypothesis and we could be next on the list."

"We just have to follow the tracks then, it should take us to them," said Walt.

"How many do you think there were?" asked Brett.

"No real idea but they sure were many, an army as Jack said, sounds fitting."

"How can we fight an army?" said Bob.

"We'll find a way. We have weapons. We'll find allies. We have Mister Dunn. Let's be done with it and go see them close up. They may not be as formidable as they seem."

They crossed the golf course in relative safety. The open view all around gave no chance of a surprise attack.

As expected, the wall was gone on the other side too and a road passed on its border. They were coming into more heavily populated areas, other gated communities, condominiums, industrial zones, malls, no more large expanse of woods or vegetation to conceal them.

The tracks continued in front of them like a steamroller with nothing stopping them, each wall or barrier or any other obstacle vanished or put aside.

Before moving forward, Louise asked Brett to send his drone to explore the area ahead. If the ferals sent scouts, they could also have sentries or patrols and it was necessary to avoid them if she wanted to have a good look at the main group.

It took the drone about twenty minutes to check the immediate surroundings and to scan a mile ahead. Nothing was seen, not one moving creature. It could not go into buildings, of course, but it appeared safe enough to move forward.

They repeated the same operation every mile or so of their progress and on the third stop, they came upon them: a small group of about ten individuals at a run between two buildings, in rags but holding all kinds of tools and sticks that they probably meant to use as weapons.

"Follow them," Louise said simply, while checking that Walt and Bob were still on the lookout. They were very close to their target.

The drone was just above the small group, flying unnoticed.

Soon more groups were appearing, on both the right and left; most of them were seated or simply walking, coming in and out of buildings. Jack had been right it was like an anthill and somewhat organized. They finally discovered an open area, a parking lot around a large shopping mall. There were ferals everywhere, hundreds of them. The little group they had been following disappeared into the main entrance.

"Let's have a look around," said Louise.

"Where should I start?"

"For now, let's just get a general view. See if we can get an idea of their numbers and what they're doing."

"Look there's smoke," said Bob pointing at the screen.

"Seems to come from inside the mall, a fire?" said Walt.

"If it could all burn to the ground with the ferals in it, I wouldn't mind," said Louise with a wicked smile. "Doesn't look like it is catching though, we'll have a look with the drone later, once we're done elsewhere."

For the next ten minutes, they observed the ferals comings and goings, circling around wider and wider. There was a lot of activity but most of it did not make much sense.

"Look here; what's that?" exclaimed Brett.

"Tanks, armored vehicles, Humvees, army trucks, a whole armada," answered Louise, quite interested. "Get closer."

There were about seventy vehicles, perhaps more, most of them parked helter-skelter at the periphery of the encampment away from the shops. You could see that some of the trucks contents had been pulled out with crates left open and standing there.

"Can you get lower and see what's in those?" asked Louise.

Brett met her demand, the drone getting closer to the ground, while careful to stay away from any meandering feral, fortunately there were few of them around. It hovered above some open crates. They were filled with all kinds of weapons, a treasure trove, but inaccessible.

Brett saw the shadow and movement at the last moment; he pushed on the control sending the drone on the move again and higher.

"Almost lost it again," he said in a breath. He turned it around as if to taunt the feral that had tried to catch it. "Battery's low, I have to bring it back."

"Well done Brett. Now let's try to see if we can find a place from where we can observe them safely."

"Safely?" Brett was looking at her with a sardonic expression.

"Sorry, you're right, not the best choice of word!"

The kid was holding on despite the danger and tension.

If they could put their hands on all those weapons or even some of them, it could make a big difference. She needed time to see if it was in any way possible. There were indeed thousands of ferals, on the move most of the time, with smaller or larger groups coming in or out in every direction. Probably more of them in the mall, she could only give a rough approximate number, she would say between five and ten thousand, it was more of an impression than anything else. She thought they probably holed up here because of the stores, there was food in there, a lot of it, or perhaps it was atavistic, they remembered doing their shopping there or at a similar place.

As Brett was directing the drone away from the military vehicles, a small crowd had gathered watching it and some of them were trying to hit it with stones and other debris.

"Let's lose them," said the boy, as he accelerated and left the vicinity of the shops.

The ferals were running after it, not wanting to abandon their prey, it took him a few moments to be free of them.

"They're sticky bastards."

"Yes, they are. Let's try to find a building with a roof from where we can observe them."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yes, I want to know all I can about them and perhaps find a way to get those weapons."

"That's impossible; they are all over the place. We would be spotted and they would come for us fast. You've seen them with the drone."

"To get those trucks, you would need a diversion, draw them away from there," said Walt, who had followed the conversation while keeping his watch. "But that would be risky and need lots of planning."

"Look at that building there," said Brett, it's rather high with a flat roof well away from them and more or less on our path, it would be perfect."

"That looks to be it. Make sure it's safe."

Brett took his time to move the drone all around it, once satisfied he started to bring it back.

"Movement to the left of us," announced Bob suddenly.

They were out of sight in a courtyard, hidden by trees but Louise needed to be sure.

"How many? Coming this way?"

"I would say about fifteen, not coming here but taking the direction of the golf course, they could be cutting off our way back."

"Twenty more on our right going the same way," said Walt in a calm voice.

"They can't know we're here? Isn't it so?" Brett felt some difficulty concentrating on the screen hurrying to bring back the drone.

Louise had a decision to make. If they had been spotted one way or another, they could jump on their horses and be gone. No feral could catch them. They would lose an occasion to study the horde for a few more hours but they would be safe.

"Brett, land the drone and get on your horse, Bob, you go with him. You will gallop until you reach the house where we left William and the others. You'll stay there until we join you. You will wait for us no later than tomorrow noon. If we're not there by then you go back to Saint Xavier and show all the drone recordings to Dunn. Understood? You can do that."

Bob, ready to reply, had exchanged a brief glance with Walt and finally accepted her decision.

"No problem, I can do it."

Brett had hastily packed his laptop.

"I'm sure you'll be the one that gives it to Dunn, we'll wait for you," he added, coming to give Louise a hug.

She patted his blond head.

"You're a brave boy, Brett, now hurry."

Both boys straddled their horses and set off at a gallop without looking back.

"Do you think they'll make it?" asked Walt.

"Better that they go now if we're caught in a trap. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"So, it's the two of us now."

"Yes, it is."

"And you think we'll make it?"

"Do we have a choice? Now let's leave the horses here and get to that roof while all the ferals give chase to Bob and Brett, if they're not coming for us first. Let's hope it is the right thing to do."

Louise was not going to back off so close to her goal. She wanted to see and know all she could concerning their enemy, whatever the outcome. As a last resort, she had her radio to pass the information to Dunn. She was stubborn, it had cost her a lot before, but she still had not learned her lesson. Once she had set a course, nothing could make her deviate from it. The younger boys were gone to safety; putting Walt's life in jeopardy was now her only annoyance.

***

It would be lunch shortly; Miles had met with Max to assign him his duties. For now, at least he was keeping the upper hand; he was still the man in charge of security, waiting to see if his new recruit was up to the job.

Max would supervise the video control room, make sure that the boys were there on time and knew what they had to do in case of a problem. He would also be in charge of the armory, check that all weapons were accounted for, in the right hands and well taken care of. That would please Carl, who didn't know that Miles and his boys had a large stock of weapons at their disposal at Bear House, enough to face any confrontation with a clear advantage. Max would also be at the head of the intervention unit, wearing a gun and radio at all times, not the most exciting job but it was a good beginning.

It would relieve Miles from some of his more tedious duties and give him time to concentrate on the training of the boys, something that meant a lot to him, as well as the general setup and running of the school security. It would also give him more free time to spend with his boys and pursue some personal projects, although, perhaps more than anything else, he would no longer feel like the only person responsible for all the things that could go wrong. One big burden that he had been carrying since the beginning of the crisis and that had been somewhat lifted from his shoulders.

Not all was perfect though, as he had learned that same morning, far from it.

Not only had he been deprived of the quickie promised by Sven and Anthony, but he had also been reminded of the latent antagonism between him and Carl.

To be honest, it was Mikey, coming to look for Anthony, who had first crushed their plans early that morning. Miles would not have been opposed to him joining in their sex games: he was cute enough, but as Anthony had said, he probably wasn't ready yet for such intimacy and rather shy about showing off the nature of his relationship with him.

Anthony was not about to let Mikey stay alone. Still stark naked and with a lovely erection he took the younger boy to their private place to ask him what he wanted.

Sven and Miles had no doubt how this inquiry would end, Anthony was lost to them, but they still had each other and were both sporting nice boners.

"Why only a quickie?" asked Sven. "Let's do it properly?"

"You can be certain I'm not opposed to that," replied Miles, one hand around the boy's young and demanding hard pricklet. But events conspired again that morning and there was another knock on the door.

"Who could that be now?" said Miles, putting on his boxer shorts and checking his radio. It was on; he had not missed a call, at least.

It was William, the senator's son and Sven's close friend.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said shyly, trying not to look in the room. He was one of the boys who kept himself away from any sexual situation as far as Miles could tell.

"Yes, William, what can I do for you?"

"Milo is here, looking for you."

"Milo? For me?" Miles looked at his watch, then in the corridor, and indeed, he saw the boy waiting there.

"Well, Milo, why don't you come in? What brings you?"

"I've been sent by the headmaster, he wants you to meet with Mister Kolochenko, and Max, this morning." The boy was looking around, his gaze falling on Sven naked on the bed. "But I see I'm disturbing you; I can come back later."

"Why no, Milo, it's no problem, at what time?"

"He said eleven, if your schedule permits." The boy had one hand in his pocket and seemed fidgety. Miles saw no reason why he would be afraid of him: perhaps it was his days spent with Thorvald, the man's sickness and recent death, which still troubled him.

"Fine with me."

"Is this where you sleep and work?" Milo was moving slowly into the room with more assurance, his hand left his pocket.

"It is."

"It's big."

"I moved here only recently. As you can see, I'm not alone."

"Anthony isn't with you?"

"He was, just a moment ago. You want to see him? I can fetch him for you."

"That would be neat; I haven't seen him much lately, you know."

"Of course, I'll be back in a minute. Sven, will you join me, I don't want to surprise him with Mikey, it might be better if you do it"

"Sure," answered the boy showing some surprise.

They left the room, Miles putting a finger over his mouth.

"I'm sure there's something not quite right with that boy," he said after a few paces. "Go get Anthony; I'll wait here."

Sven returned a moment later, alone.

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt them, they were in the middle of…you know…"

"I see what you mean, it doesn't matter," said Miles with a smile. "Let's see what our young guest is up to."

As they entered the room, Milo was looking out the window, appearing much calmer and controlled than previously.

"Sorry, Milo, but Anthony is quite busy at the moment, you know," Miles made a well-known gesture that didn't need words, "Do you want to wait for him?"

"I would, but I have a few chores waiting for me, I'll see him later."

"As you wish, I'll tell him you were here."

"Thanks. See you."

As soon as the boy was gone, Miles silenced Sven again, who was about to speak.

"I'm quite hungry," he said. "We should go have breakfast."

But it didn't look like he was about to leave the place, on the contrary, he was inspecting it, as if searching for something.

Sven, beside him, wanted to ask him what was going on but stayed silent as ordered, a quizzical look on his face.

"Get dressed, Sven," Miles added, as he looked closely at the window and the desk under it.

It didn't take Sven much more than a minute to put on his shorts and tee-shirt, and slip on his sneakers when Miles signaled him to come closer, he had silently pulled the desk from the wall and was pointing at something stuck behind it.

Once Sven had seen it, he replaced the desk against the wall.

"Perhaps we should go take a shower first, wash out the night sweat?" he said as if nothing had occurred.

"That seems a good idea," answered Sven, playing along.

They left together, Miles picking up some clothes on the way.

As soon as they were in the corridor with no one that could hear them, Sven started asking questions.

"Is that thing what I think it is?"

"Yes, it's a bug; someone wants to listen to our conversations."

"Why put it there? I don't think they'll learn much from the kind of meetings we hold there."

"Perhaps, but we'll have to be extra careful about what we say there and elsewhere. If they set one, they probably set others, notably in my office."

"Was it Milo?" It wasn't really a question.

"Who else."

"Fisher sent him,"

"Or Greg, it doesn't matter, I think it was Max's idea, the coincidence is quite obvious. He's definitely chosen his side."

"We'll have to tell the others."

"Yes, Louise, Anthony, and a few others, those that could let slip information we want to keep to ourselves."

"Do you think Anthony's cover is blown?"

"I doubt it, our friends' probably only want a second source of information without filters, but you're right, we need to be sure that Anthony is safe and not at risk of reprisals."

"Do you think he put other bugs around here?"

"Certainly not. They would have hours of conversation to listen to. No, just our bedroom and my office, that's all. That's how I would do it."

When they reached the showers, there were already a few boys there and their occasion for a "quickie" or anything else was gone. It didn't really matter, Sven would be with him most of the day, and they could find some moment later or wait until they went to bed together in the evening.

After leaving the showers, he went back to his room, picked the mic off the wall and crushed it. He had first thought of leaving it, use it to mislead those who would listen to their conversations, but on second thought, it was too tricky. He already had enough worries without having to watch every word he said in those very places that were meant for him to relax and enjoy his boys. This was also no way to treat him, and it was time he let it be known, to send a clear message to Fisher and Max.

***

Bob and Brett were galloping with a lump in their throat. First, they had left Louise and Walt behind, exposed to danger while they were going for safety, second, the direct consequence of the first, they were now alone to face whatever problem they would meet, and third, it appeared that their escape would not be that easy.

The two groups that had started it all saw them immediately and began to converge toward the riders, although they did not pose any real threat, with the boys on their horses able to outdistance them easily. But they had been emitting strange sounds and more ferals were now emerging from many buildings ahead of them, with their own responding, unsettling calls. There were a lot of them, Brett could see about a hundred directly in their path. They must have passed them on their way in, but there had been no reaction on their part. Was it a trap, had it been done on purpose? Still he hoped they were not smart enough and would not realize that two of them were missing. That would be the best for Walt and Louise.

"Let's go left, Brett," Bob called out, "and stay behind me."

The boy pulled out his AR15, holding it in front of him, ready to fire. He slowed down somewhat to evaluate their chances, the best way to get through. Brett did the same, drawing his own weapon but knew he was much less skilled than Bob, in fact quite at a loss with firearms. Still, he would do his best; it would not be his first time.

Bob, having chosen their path away from the most numerous and menacing ferals as well as being careful to avoid the proximity of most buildings, accelerated again.

"We can make it, just follow," he encouraged Brett.

He started firing at the few ferals that could block their passage. Firing from a moving mount was much less easy than on the firing range. Still, he was good and hit a few of them, they barged through the rest at high speed sending them tumbling away, only one was able to wound Bob's horse with a spiked stick which stayed pinned to the horse's flank as the boys moved away from the menace unscathed.

"Well done, Bob!" shouted Brett, letting himself breathe again, they seemed out of the most immediate danger. Bob was bringing back his horse along their initial direction with some luck they would be at the golf course in a few minutes. They could hear the receding ferals' calls and shrieks behind them.

But things were never that simple.

Brett saw Bob's horse suddenly fall in front of him, one hoof had been stuck in a hole, he veered right barely avoiding it, fearing for Bob who could have been trampled. If he were to be honest, he would say that, for a moment, he thought he should keep going, the ferals were not far behind, and indeed, he heard Bob starting to shoot at them. But it was only for a fleeting moment. He reined in his horse and made it turn back, he wasn't the best horse rider either, and it took him some time. Bob's horse wasn't getting up, still on the ground. Bob was calmly firing one shot at a time; having taken a defensive position behind his laying mount; he didn't appear hurt. With each shot, one of the ferals fell.

Brett stopped right beside him, bending over and extending his hand.

"Come on, Bob, let's get out of here."

After one last shot and not forgetting to retrieve his crossbow from the saddle, Bob took the boy's hand, put one foot in the stirrup and pulling and pushing soon was straddling the horse behind Brett. Once settled, he gave a tap on the boy's shoulder who did not wait before stirring his mount forward and away.

More ferals were converging on them from every direction. Nothing was sure yet.

Chapter 25

Louise and Walt left their hiding spot once the two groups of ferals started pursuing Bob and Brett: they had taken the bait and the boys would easily outdistance them. The entrance to the building was only yards away when the unmistakable sound of five or six shots from an AR15 pierced the air. The strange sounds coming from the ferals grew louder, and it could mean only one thing — the boys were in trouble.

Louise looked at Walt, his face a mix of anxiety and panic.

"There's nothing we can do, it would take too long to get to them; you know that. We've got to trust them to fight their way out. They're smart boys, they'll make it."

Walt hesitated, all his being, wanting to go back and help them or at least know the outcome.

"They're little boys," he said.

"Yes, they are, but we've taught them how to face such a situation. They'll know what to do. We must get to that building before we're spotted. Perhaps we'll be able to see what is going on from up there?" The shots resumed, but now they were spaced, one at a time.

Walt made his decision, turning away from the direction of the gunfire, he nodded to Louise, and they resumed their progression.

Louise pulled out a Sig Sauer with a silencer as they reached the entrance to the building. There was no sign of the ferals inside, and with caution, they quickly found their way to the roof. Immediately, Louise grabbed her binoculars and searched for a sign of the two boys' whereabouts. There were no more shots to be heard; it was both ominous and reassuring.

"Can you see them?"

"No, Walt, not yet, and that's a good thing. Whatever happened they've got past it."

"What do you see?"

Louise did not answer right away. She had found the fallen horse, seen the ferals' bodies and was trying to determine if one of the boys was among them. There was a clutter of buildings obscuring her view further on, making it impossible to see if both boys, or in the worst case neither boy, had made it. Anyway, they were probably too far by now to be seen, which was as well.

"Tell me! What do you see," insisted Walt.

"They're not there. They must have made it through."

"Are you sure? Let me have a look."

"They lost one of the horses, but one is enough. That's probably why they had to shoot," she said, as she handed him the binoculars. She needed to prepare him for the sight of the dead mount.

"They lost a horse?" Walt was scrutinizing the area, examining every detail, every corpse, praying he would not find Brett, and most of all, Bob's body among the dead. What was comforting was that packs of ferals were still running in the direction the boys must have fled to after the incident. If they had been caught, there would be no reason for that.

"I think they made it through, Walt, believe me."

"I think so too, but getting back for us will not be simple, the place is swarming with ferals now. Where were they hiding when we went through that area?"

"No idea. Quite a few came from all around when the others gave the alarm."

"Could they have let us pass on the way in, on purpose?"

"Hard to believe but who knows, that's the whole point of us being here, of taking those risks, why we need to have a really good look at them, try to understand how they're organized, what they can and cannot do. Try to find their weaknesses."

"You're right. Let's get to it then."

"We can already say that they are not that good, they haven't found the horses," said Louise. "It looks quiet over there. Now let's try to see what is going on in that mall and if there's a safe way we can get access to all those military vehicles."

From their observation post, their view was not as good as what the drone could have offered, but it was still good enough concerning the areas they were most interested in.

Louise took a pen and paper and started to list the military vehicles using the binoculars, noting when possible their nature and possible contents. She was no specialist and it was not easy; they had been parked helter-skelter with no rhyme or reason. As far as she could see, there were no bodies with uniforms among them. Possibly, it had been a dumping place for some of the area units to get rid of them when things got out of hand. If they could put their hands on some of that stuff, it could significantly change the odds. Once satisfied with her work, having mapped out the location of what she judged to be the most interesting booty, she joined Walt who was watching the mall and studying the activity there.

"Any idea what they're up to?"

"Not really, groups are going in and out regularly. I can't find a reason for it. Most of them enter the supermarket. Perhaps it's to get food, after all, they must eat like everybody else; otherwise they'd all be dead by now."

Suddenly, Louise had an idea: perhaps they could poison them. Probably not the food, that would be too difficult, but perhaps the water.

"Any sign of where they get their water?"

"If there's running water at the school, it might be the same here. They just have to open a faucet somewhere, provided they still know how to do that, but I've not seen anything like that yet."

"How many do you think there are?"

"Thousands, for sure. It's difficult to tell, they're always on the move. There might be a lot more in the mall that we can't see. They seem to be organized into groups of ten to fifteen, with some kind of leader. Usually the one that looks to be in the best shape and seems to have some of their cognitive functions still working."

"It doesn't make much sense yet. Do they have any clear objective or plan? How could we know? What causes them to go on the move and if they did, would it be the whole pack or only part of it."

"Perhaps the answers we need are in that mall," said Walt, pointing at it. "See, that smoke is still there, no bigger or smaller than before. Do you think they could be using fire?"

"Seems unlikely to me. Anyway we won't be able to go in there to have a look now, we could have used the drone, too bad we don't have the opportunity," Louise replied with regret in her voice.

"We didn't have the time for that. You did the right thing sending Bob and Brett away when those ferals came too close. I'm sure they were coming for us."

"If so, once again, they are not too smart, they went after them and did not come to check for us."

"That's good news."

"Yes, it is. Let's wait a couple of hours; then get back to the horses and leave; with any luck the path will have cleared of most of the ferals and we may see something of interest."

"Wait … I can see something."

"What is it?"

"Let me check … Yep, they're still there, take a look."

Louise had no problem spotting what had caught Walt's attention. There were a couple of ferals: a man and a woman having sex out in the open.

"Strangely, I never expected to see something like that."

"Do you think they can still make babies?"

"I don't see why not but I don't like the idea."

"Would the babies be like them, infected?"

"I don't really know, probably not. Still, I can't see it ending well."

"Me neither."

"I don't like the idea that they're changing. Perhaps getting back some of what they lost with the flu. That's not good for us. What if they learned to use weapons again besides sticks and knifes."

"At the same time, perhaps they could recover, become human again."

"We can hope for that but from what I see here, and heard before, I very much doubt it. Their brains have been damaged; at least that's what they said on the news at the time."

For close to an hour, nothing much happened and Louise was tempted to call it quits, having checked her notes and making sure she had forgotten nothing that could be of use if they decided to come back and get their hands on some of those goods, a folly, for sure, but so tempting.

Walt was the first to hear it and react. Amid all the strange sounds that the ferals used to communicate, he suddenly identified something else: Voices! Or rather cries and shouts with a few words mixed in, they sounded young … boys! His first thought was for Bob and Brett — had they been captured? This was unheard of. Ferals did not take prisoners! Louise heard it too and she was frantically searching for its source.

"Where's it coming from?" she asked, as much for herself as for Walt. The same thoughts concerning the boys had crossed her mind.

"There!" he said, pointing to a pack coming from the east toward the mall and joined by others as it got closer. "What can you see?" asked the teen anxiously.

Louise had her binoculars in place looking attentively and trying to get a good view of the captives. There were three of them, boys, of perhaps ten to fifteen.

"It's not Bob or Brett," she said right away. "There's three of them, not in too bad a shape and quite alive."

"It doesn't make sense."

"Not to us, but that's exactly why I wanted us here. To be surprised and try to understand what's going on."

"Is there anything we can do for them?"

"I fear not, unless we wanted to commit suicide. I could put a bullet in their head; I don't think those ferals will be too kind with them whatever it is they want from them."

"We can't do that," said Walt, horrified.

"No, too risky but that would be the only sensible thing to do."

The crowd around the pack had grown: it was close to two hundred individuals now, with more arriving.

"I think they are going to the mall."

Indeed, and soon they disappeared inside leaving the others outside. In the end, there could be some order in that semblance of chaos.

"What will they do with them? Do you think there are more captives in there?"

"I don't know, but I think we can assume there may be more kids held there, perhaps adults too."

"Do you think they would eat them? They did take them into the supermarket."

"I thought of that, of course. There must not be too much food left in there, they have a few thousand mouths to feed but why keep them alive if its meat they want, they would be as good dead as alive. I definitely regret we can't use that drone anymore."

"Should we pack and use this opportunity to go while they are all busy in the mall?" suggested Walt.

"Agreed. We still have more questions than answers but there's no reason to stay. I'm as anxious as you are to see that Bob and Brett are safe and waiting for us at that house. Let's move!"

Ten minutes later, they were on their way. They found a few ferals still around, but with some caution were able to find and mount their horses without having to fight their way. There was no notable incident until they reached the golf course, where they encountered a small pack that attacked them. Those proved no match for them and they crossed it leaving behind a few more bodies. Shortly after, they arrived at the house, coming out of the woods at a trot, weapons at the ready.

Jack was there, still under his tree and still smoking.

"Glad to see you back," he told them. "Been awfully quiet here, think those small kids don't trust me too much, they did keep their distance which was to my liking. What did you do with the two others you took with you?

***

Miles was supervising the boys' training. Most of the job was now entrusted to the prefects and he did not plan to spend more than a few minutes there.

Earlier he had taken great pleasure in visiting Carl in his office. Putting what was left of the mics found in his bedroom and office on his desk and simply saying:

"Tell Max this was not a very good idea and don't put the blame on poor Milo, he did his best. I must say this was quite stupid of you. I could have played your game but think of all the time you would have wasted listening to me making love to my boys or saying platitudes all day long with nothing of interest. You must understand that we are all in the same boat here and if we lose it, we lose it together. Have a nice day."

Carl had said nothing throughout his brief visit.

For now, Miles was back with his pride and joy, his "warriors" who were busy training.

Aged eleven to thirteen, they showed great disparity in size as well as maturity, all factors you needed to consider when turning them into soldiers. And despite their differences, he loved them all.

Throughout the afternoon, one thought had preoccupied him. Even if he was concerned about Louise and the boys, he was confident she would succeed and be back in a day or two. What really worried him was what she might find. If their theory was confirmed and a few thousand ferals were about to come their way, they needed to act quickly. They would need more firepower, and that meant more weapons, munitions, and manpower. An alliance with the Sheins at the food depot would help. They might also know of other communities in the area and do the same with them. As for weapons and munitions, they could try to find National Guard abandoned encampments. The data sent by Matthew's father showed the closest hidden government compound was about one hundred miles away, he doubted they would have enough time to go there and put together a solid defense. He hated the idea but he was convinced that they should also prepare for an evacuation of the school. That might be the best option if the odds were definitely against them.

His disagreements with Carl appeared ridiculous in view of the danger they faced. Worse still, their quarrel could bring about the downfall of Saint Xavier. He hoped that Max, besides having the idea to put mics in his office and bedroom would also help him open Carl's eyes. If he was any good at his job, he should realize that they needed to gather all the forces and supplies they could muster to survive.

There was nothing worse than waiting … the uncertainty. It was a feeling that had been with him for a very long time now: not knowing if he would die from the disease, he couldn't help but think he could be next. Now this disease had mutated into a new threat: ferals. He could not allow himself to fall into idle self-pity; he needed something to occupy his mind … or his cock, an activity that certainly had an appeal. He just had to call Sven, they would have a shower together, and he would take an hour for himself with the boy. He had earned that little reward and he was sure Sven would be delighted.

As he was about to stand, he was interrupted by a boy calling to him. Turning around, he saw it was Tanner Holt. He thought of ignoring him but his sense of duty got the better of him. Whatever the subject, he was sure it was going take a lot more time than necessary. He would have to find a way to stop the boy's endless rambling.

"What is it, Tanner?"

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but I didn't know who could solve my problem."

"Tell me, I'll see what I can do.

"I thought of asking the headmaster but he is not a man you can approach easily, then there was Mister Tools, I have always liked him, he was, he is, a great teacher…"

"Could you stop that gibberish and simply tell me what it's about?" Miles didn't want to be rude but he couldn't let him rant on like that.

"Yes, of course, sorry. I'm fighting it but I still haven't been able to get rid of going into details and digressions. I'm working on it though; believe me. Curiously and fortunately, it doesn't happen when I have to pass an exam of some kind, otherwise, I would never have been accepted at Saint Xavier or be able to stay here. It was such a relief for my parents…" Tanner stopped talking; the look on Miles face was enough to make him understand that he wasn't quite successful yet. "Sorry, let me try again. We have a problem with one of the cold storage room generators. If Mister Abrams were still here, I would have gone to him. He was a good man and could repair anything. That was a terrible loss, don't you think?"

"It was, yes." Miles had to cut short the conversation. "Go to the shop, you'll find a few boys there working on the motion sensors and other things. Tell them to go have a look at that generator and to keep me informed of the results. If they can't make it work, then have them replace it. We can't risk losing our frozen food, now hurry." Miles would have liked to ask, when it had happened or if there had been any loss of the food there but he abandoned the idea. It would take Tanner probably a few more minutes to answer those simple questions.

Even with a direct order, the boy did not leave immediately; he stayed a moment, standing in front of Miles as if a computer that was loading before starting a new task. Probably also tempted to give one or two more useless comments.

"I'll check on it later," insisted Miles, and finally the boy got on the move. He felt relieved; it had been easier and faster than he feared.

The food, the shop, the library, and its resources … in the event of an emergency evacuation of the school, they had a lot to lose. Time was running out with many life and death decisions on hold, awaiting further intelligence. He felt alone without Louise. Fisher and his clique were mostly preoccupied with their own selfish ambitions.

With some guilt, he nonetheless pursued his idea of an hour of sex with Sven and called the boy to him, who, as expected, left his friends with a large smile on his face. As they were about to go, he asked Anthony to go check on Tanner to make sure his orders were followed and that time was not lost.

One boy was watching them depart — a happy couple holding hands — with some envy. Chandler Terril had only bad options to choose from, accept to be Raymond's boy, or refuse him. The first choice was the logical one and he would have adopted it without a second thought a few weeks back. The sex no longer repelled him. In fact, he'd enjoyed it the other night, and he thought it could become rather pleasurable. No, the problem was Raymond himself. The man was not the same, he had changed, and the boy's admiration, had turned to fear. He felt something lurking in his eyes, as if a beast were hiding there ready to leap out and hurt him. There was also his entourage, notably Fisher, who looked at him as if he was a dish he wanted on his menu. Then there were all the others, Greg, Pablo, Silva and the nurse. He had overheard their conversations and didn't like what they were saying.

The second option was to refuse him. But what would his reaction be? Would it unleash the beast? Even if it did not happen, he knew that without Tools' protection he would be easy prey for any of the prefects, including those he least wanted to get close to, perhaps even Fisher himself. No, he had to find another alternative. To flee from the school was, without doubt, a stupid idea. Could he find someone who could oppose Raymond, Fisher, and all the others?

There was perhaps an answer to that question, only Dunn and Simons he thought would dare face them, certainly not Mister Cruise, who seemed afraid of his shadow. But why would they be interested? Would he have to give something in exchange? Would they find him worth fighting for? Dunn perhaps, he liked boys, everybody knew that. Chandler was very well aware he had good looks, and that was part of his problem. Would it be any different than it was with Tools? What was the man like? Would he look at him like Fisher? If he trusted what was being said, he should not hesitate. Dunn and Simons were supposed to be the good guys, if everybody did not flock to them, it was because they had nothing to offer, no game room, no booze, no drugs, no club boys, no privileges, no position of power. That was how it worked. Chandler was not stupid. He was close enough to Tools and the others to hear them talk and draw his own conclusions. What would become of him if he sided with Dunn? Could the man compete with Fisher? If it were only to gain some respite would it be worth it? It could become much worse later for him if he made the wrong decision. Was Dunn the man he was said to be? After all, Tools' reputation was excellent if you asked anyone at Saint Xavier.

One way would be to ask Sven. They had worked together on the play where he was his understudy for the part of Ralph. Would he have a grudge against him for losing the role? Could he be trusted? Anyway, he left with Dunn. Who else could he ask? Anthony? He was too close to Fisher. There was that blond kid Dunn was often with, the new boy. What was his name? No idea, but he was there, a few rows to his right; he could try to talk to him during a break. Fortunately, Sam Lewis and Melvin Furst were on duty. He had nothing to fear from those two. Tools was nowhere in sight. He was becoming paranoid and he didn't have much time left.

***

Food was scarce and Burt had to go further and further from the house, to find anything at all. He was not the only one looking for it and often places he visited had already been plundered. He thought of trying some of the stores in the area, but it would have meant using the car, which was too risky. Noise seemed to attract ferals; bikes were far safer. Bradley and Ethan came with him. They all had guns now, to deal with unexpected encounters. Not just for ferals, but also other groups of survivors. Some were not always friendly, notably if they saw that you had something they wanted. However, their first choice was always to avoid any confrontation and they were careful before entering any house to make sure no one was living there. The now familiar smell of death was a good indicator whether they could enter without too much risk. They had discovered that ferals did not stay in the houses but they often found the result of their actions. Burt was always the first one in; he secured the place and hid any bodies he found under a sheet, there was nothing he could do concerning the stench. The most difficult sight that Burt had met on several occasions had been of small kids left alone to die of thirst or hunger in their cribs or held prisoner in their playpen. During their meanderings, they had found more kids wandering around, which increased the number of his wards, and made the need to be successful in their forays even more acute.

Burt knew that eventually he would have to leave the house to find a community with the means to sustain the now fifteen children. Saint Xavier was his only choice, he did not know of any other. He would probably have done it already if it didn't mean losing his intimate relationships with the boys, the wonderful little sex paradise he had been living in. He didn't see how it could go on in full sight of those that would welcome them. He wanted so much to keep Esteban and Ethan for himself, and perhaps one or two more, it would be enough to ensure his bliss. Perhaps he could leave the others at the school and keep them with him, but where would they go?

They were pedaling fast, crossing an unknown part of the Delway housing project, a gated community of large single homes with prices starting at one million. As expected, no one stopped them at the entrance and the barriers were left open. It was the first time Burt went so far, close to six miles, or visited such a place, and he was quite impressed by the well ordained and spectacular landscaping on show. Each house, despite its size, was well hidden from the others by heavily wooded natural areas and surrounded by lawns that were now beginning to be invaded by weeds and burnt in many places. It was a bit apart from the rest of the neighborhood and he hoped mostly left alone so far.

The shots rang without warning and they reacted immediately, dumping the bikes, pulling out their weapons and going for cover, even if it was clear they were not the target.

The sounds were of an automatic rifle, coming in from the right in groups of five rounds each or so. They ended as abruptly as they had started.

"Don't move, I'll try to see what's going on," Burt said to the two boys.

"Is it worth it?" asked Ethan.

"We did not come all this way just to turn back. There's a bend there, just a little bit further, I want to know if we can go that way. Don't worry I'll be careful."

For once, he had decided to carry on regardless, he didn't have much choice, they had to find something, and here he thought they could hit the jackpot.

He carefully reached a copse of trees from where he hoped to be able to have a view onto the shooting scene.

As he was getting there, he came face to face with a rugged man in uniform pointing a rifle at him. He was taller than Burt was, with gray hair, an unshaven face, and piercing blue eyes.

"Raise your arms and let go of your gun," said the man with authority. Burt had no intention of challenging him. "Good. Are you alone?"

"Yes, no, I'm with my boys. We mean you no harm; we were just passing through when we heard the shots. Let me go and you'll never see me again."

"Tell your boys to show themselves."

"There's no need for that, believe me."

"You live around here?"

"No, I told you, just passing through."

"Not a wise thing to go around nowadays even with a gun. You should know better than that. What were you looking for?"

"Nothing … you know…"

"No, I don't know, tell me again."

"Okay then. I got fifteen kids at home, strays I took under my wing, I have to feed them, and it's getting difficult. There's nothing wrong in that."

"So, you planned on breaking into some of these houses and taking what you find."

"That's the plan, yes. But only empty houses we don't have a choice, officer."

"In that case, I think I got what you are looking for. I've taken upon myself to clean up the area around here. Get your gun and call your boys. I'll show you."

The man had lowered his weapon, he looked the hard type and determined but with a weariness that made him less daunting. His cop uniform looked as tired as he did. Burt had made his decision.

"Bradley, Ethan, come," he said, not too loud, signaling them at the same time. They showed up shortly, their weapons still at the ready.

"I'm Sergeant Glenn O'Malley, boys, you have nothing to fear from me. My helicopter crashed not far from here quite some time ago. I survived and I have dedicated my time since then to the eradication of all the ferals in the area. Follow me."

As they crossed the small patch of woods that obscured the view to the other side, they could see a dozen feral bodies littering the ground.

"They're traveling in groups, which makes it easier for me than tracking them one by one. There, I left my vehicle behind that house."

The house in question was a sprawling structure at least four times bigger than Burt's.

A four-wheel drive Chevrolet van was parked in front of it. You could see a real armory on the back seats. As the sergeant was opening the passenger door, another group of ferals appeared behind them.

"Get in the car, I'll deal with them," he said, without the slightest catch in his voice. There were easily twenty of them. He got into position, one knee on the ground, and started taking them out one by one. Five had fallen when the others decided to abandon their quarry, running away and trying to find some cover. Three more fell before they were out of sight.

"They're becoming wiser, they know they can die and are wary of our weapons. I'll catch them later. Noise is still a good way to bring them to you," he said casually, as he was reloading his gun.

The two kids were in the front seat, Burt had to push away a few guns and ammunition boxes to get enough room for himself in the back seat.

"All set, let's get going. We'll get your bikes later."

It was a short drive, and not much more than five minutes later, they stopped in front of an even bigger house.

"What do you want to show us?" asked Bradley.

"Don't you like surprises, kid? You'll see."

They followed the sergeant in silence as he entered the place, it was grand with marble everywhere; it smelled of money spent without counting. They were quite impressed.

"Seems most people around here left when the shit started hitting the fan. They took nothing with them. Here it is."

They had gone through a vast kitchen and then down stairs to the basement. O'Malley had opened a door and then a second one. The rooms beyond were filled with food and beverages of all kinds. There was enough to last for months, perhaps years.

"Most of it is edible; everything frozen or fresh is lost, of course; they did not have the generators working. You can take whatever you need."

"How come nobody found that yet?" asked Burt, dumbfounded. This was the jackpot indeed.

"As I told you, there's nobody around here, except some groups of ferals passing through. I stumbled on it a few days ago. I planned on sharing my discovery with some of the survivors I met on my way. You're the first ones that can benefit from it."

"That's very generous of you."

"Not really, I have no need of it. You do."

"This could save many lives in our area. People, mostly kids, are starting to scavenge for food with all the risks that can go with it."

"I know. Perhaps you could bring them here. There's room for a lot of people."

"You mean we could move in here?"

"Exactly, you and your fifteen kids. We can go fetch them in my van and bring them back."

"I saw there was a pool," said Bradley."

"A big one," insisted Ethan with a big smile, "way cool."

That's too good to be true, thought Burt, there must be a catch somewhere. It's going too fast.

"The place is yours if you want it. As I told you, I'll be moving on, got a lot of work to do. I'm not interested in the place, but I like the idea that you're the ones that would benefit from it. You'll be able to save more strays and bring them here."

"It's not me, it's Ethan that started it," said Burt, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder affectionately.

"That, I did," concurred the boy with a proud smile taking the man's hand and kissing it.

"Those kids like you a lot, it seems. It could not be better."

"If you say so. To tell the truth, I like them too." Burt brought Ethan to him holding him tight, "This one was the first one." Burt hoped that their special relationship was not too obvious but could not refrain from showing his love for the boy.

"I'm quite happy I missed you that day," said O'Malley.

"You missed me?"

"Yes, I had you in my viewfinder, I shot the girl, but I missed you."

Burt couldn't believe what had just been said. The helicopter, on that fateful day, it could not be.

"How do you know it was me?"

"I have pretty good eyesight and I never forget a face. Talk of a coincidence."

Burt was shocked. This was the man who had shot at him, almost killed him. He stayed incredulous but had to accept the evidence.

"I'm stunned; I never thought I would meet the guy that tried to kill me."

"And I'm relieved that I did not, losing a Good Samaritan like you would have been a terrible loss. I rarely miss. Shall we go get your kids now? How far is it? You couldn't have covered too many miles on your bikes."

The move took them the remainder of the day. By nightfall, everyone had settled into a bedroom.

They all gathered in the kitchen for a late and wonderful dinner.

"What are your plans Sergeant O'Malley? Why don't you stay with us?" asked Burt. "I could certainly use your help to deal with all these kids and those that might join us here later."

"I know, but I must refuse."

"Why?" demanded several of the boys in unison.

"I have my own agenda. I've heard of several large packs of ferals that threaten the area, I have decided to find them and destroy them."

"Large packs, what do you mean? Like the one we saw earlier today?"

"No, that was nothing; I'm talking of several hundred, if not several thousand."

"That's impossible! That many?"

"That's what I've been told. I can tell you, you better not find yourself in their path."

"Who told you?"

"I met a lot of different people since the crash, some good and some bad. There are a few communities still standing, not many though, and isolated people in little groups like you and the kids, sometimes alone like me."

"What can you do against such numbers?"

"I'll do my part. I got several thousand bullets in my van, I plan on using them all, and more I'll gather along the way."

"But why are you doing it?" asked Ethan.

"I got to do something, and I'm good at it. After the crash, like most people I was waiting for death to catch up with me. To pass the time I decided that's what I'd do, I thought it could serve the people that were left. I didn't fall sick and death didn't find me, either, it's become my routine, a good way to stay occupied and not think too much about all that's been lost."

"I understand. It's your choice. Have you ever heard of a school, not far from here called Saint Xavier?" Burt was keen to learn more about it, even if he was now less likely to need it.

"Sorry, no. I've never been there, or heard of it. Well it's getting late we should hit the sack, don't you think? I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning."

"So Soon?"

"Yes, first thing. I'll make sure those ferals we saw earlier won't bother you, then I'll be on my way."

"Let me tell you that if you change your mind, or think you had enough of killing ferals, you will always be more than welcome here and we'll always be grateful to you."

Esteban had come to settle on Burt's knees, scantily clad as always, and while Ethan had been careful to keep some distance, this boy did not. His behavior with the man, begging for a peck here and there, a caress, taking the man's hand to slip it under his tee shirt, gave all the clues O'Malley could need concerning the nature of their intimate bond. He was a very sensual and affectionate boy, whether from his upbringing or his nature Burt didn't know, he accepted him as he was. He didn't mind anymore if it displeased their guest and benefactor. Sergeant O'Malley had had many occasions to observe them the whole afternoon and evening and didn't seem to care. It had made Burt's proposition to the officer much easier. With some luck, as long as they could stay separate from other communities he was now confident he would be able to keep his special relationship with Esteban, Ethan, and a few of the others for months or even years. And who knows, O'Malley's lack of reaction could be a good omen towards what could be expected, from now on, from the world at large. There were certainly much more serious matters of concern than that. He also realized that without women he might not be the only one to resort to boys to satisfy his needs.

Later that night, O'Malley was awakened by light footsteps beside his bed. The room was bathed in moonlight and he didn't need to use his flashlight to recognize Esteban.

"What are you doing here? You should be in bed," he said kindly.

Without asking, the boy climbed upon the bed to settle against him. It was hot and they were both naked.

"I came to keep you company, as a thank you. I like this place, very much."

"Did Burt send you?"

"Burt? No, he'd be jealous. He's snoring right now."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Not really." Shamelessly, he was rubbing himself against the man, as a cat would do.

"I saw you with Burt, you're a very special boy, and beautiful too, but this is not for me. I'm sorry. I really appreciate the offer though. What if we just cuddled for some time and then you could go back to your room?"

"You're sure?" asked Esteban, with obvious regret, as he touched the man's erection, satisfied that his simple presence had the desired effect.

"Yes, I am, I'm not ready for that, you're still a child. I can't do that, even if it would certainly be very pleasant. Okay?"

"Okay, let's cuddle then."

And they did.

***

"What do you think happened to them," asked the teen, close to tears.

"Calm down, Walt. There's no proof anything happened to them, we would have seen it on our way back. There must have been something that sidetracked them." Louise was trying to keep calm but she was as worried by the two boys' absence as Walt himself, even if she did not show it.

"They left us close to three hours ago! We've got to do something."

"We are doing something, we told them to come back to this house and wait for us, and that's exactly what we're going to do, stay here and wait. If they made it through, and I believe they did, they'll come back here. That's the most reasonable thing to do. We have no idea where to look for them. I know you want to do more than that, it's quite normal but that would be useless and foolish."

"All I can think of is to take my horse and go look for them."

"And when they get here, they'll have to go look for you? No, I tell you again, the best thing to do is to stay here. My belief is that for one reason or another they have not been able to cross the golf course as we did. Perhaps there was a pack of ferals blocking their path, and they couldn't risk barging through them with only one horse. They may have had to make a detour."

"But they should be here by now. We should have gone to help them when we heard the gunfire. I should have…"

"What is done, is done, there's nothing we can do about it, sorry."

"There's nothing we can do about anything. I hate that."

It was the first time Louise saw the boy in such a state, angry with himself and certainly with her. William and the other two little boys were looking at them uncomprehendingly. Jack had disappeared again into the woods; she doubted they would see him again.

Those moments of waiting, of thinking of all the reasons why the two boys may not be seen ever again were among the worst of her life, and like Walt, there were instances when all she wanted to do was to take Lucent and go look for them. They still had a few hours before sundown, perhaps it wasn't too late.

But finally reason prevailed and they tried to occupy themselves while time went by at a snail's pace. Walt took care of the horses while Louise looked at her notes, which at that moment, did not look worth what they may have lost.

"Look, here they are," said William, over an hour later when they were wondering how they could go back to Saint Xavier without them.

He was the first one to see the two weary boys emerge from the trees. Everyone rushed out of the house to greet them.

"Where have you been, we were worried sick about you," said Louise, in mock anger.

Walt seized Bob, picking him from the saddle, holding him tight and covering him with kisses. Having his hands roam everywhere as if to make sure he was really there, whole and unhurt. There were no words needed to express his feelings and there was no restraint or shame in his show of love. Bob, dwarfed by the teen, was clearly enjoying the attention.

Louise, not to be outdone herself, came to help Brett get off the horse and embraced him before checking him all over to be sure he was all right.

They took the two boys inside followed by the horse to hear their story. The rush of adrenaline was gone and Louise felt overwrought. She fell into a seat and simply listened to them.

What they told them was very close to what she had imagined. The way through the golf course being impracticable for them, they had decided to go around it. It was then a game of hide-and-seek with different packs of ferals. Several times, they thought they would never make it back to the house. Notably, once, they had to hide for quite some time from a group of at least a few hundred ferals going toward the mall. It had been a nightmare, and they feared they would lose their only horse and have to go on foot.

"But, finally, you made it. I'm so proud of you! And so angry with myself. We should have stayed together, Walt you were right," Louise said, as she took the two boys in her arms in a rare show of affection. "I think we are all quite tired after this day. We will eat some and then spend the night here to rest. We'll leave for the school at first light tomorrow morning."

Everyone agreed, William, and his two friends, Benny and Sullivan were so relieved to be taken charge of that they didn't ask about Melanie. They had witnessed the stress of the last hours. There were serious matters at hand and it was not the time for recriminations.

Louise would have liked to leave right away for Saint Xavier. There was no way of knowing when or even if the feral army might come their way. But she was convinced they would come, and in great numbers, making the task to stop them nearly impossible. From what Bob and Brett had said, they had not seen all of them. Were there more groups coming to join them? Or were they simply returning from what could be called a raid of their own? Getting their hands on those army vehicles and weapons as soon as possible was becoming a matter of life and death. It would not be easy and require a lot of preparation, which meant time–time they may not have. Traveling at night with roving bands of ferals was not safe and they all needed some rest after that day; they would go at first light, it was for the best.

Walt and Bob decided to take first watch, while Louise took Brett and the kids with her into the largest bed in the house. Louise took comfort from their youthful presence, and the boys felt secure as they all cuddled together and settled in for the night.

***

That afternoon, following the first training session, Matthew was playing with Logan and Ginger. The dog loved to run after and catch a Frisbee. The game of the day was to see who could throw it the farthest and still have Ginger catch it before it touched the ground. Soon a few more boys had joined them, Johnny, the Edwards twins, and the Muller brothers.

A few boys were watching them with an obvious desire to participate. Matthew noticed one that seemed to be mainly watching him. He did not recognize him right away, but now he was quite certain: it was the boy who played Ralph in Mister Tools' play. Matthew wondered why he was watching him so intently.

As the boy was inching closer, he decided to find out.

"Hi, want to play with us?" he asked with an open face.

"No, thanks." Chandler hesitated, but finally seized the opportunity, "Can I talk to you, just for a minute, privately?"

"Don't see why not." He was now really curious to see what it was all about and he didn't think there was anything to be wary of. Miles had told them to be wary of Greg and his bunch, but Chandler, yes, that was his name, was not associated with them to his knowledge.

They moved a little apart from the others for a little peace and quiet, the kids were quite loud while playing and chose a spot in the shadows of a persimmon tree. It was hot as hell and the sun was merciless.

"I wanted to ask you a few questions," started Chandler.

"What about?"

"About Mister Dunn, I think you're real close to him, you know him better than most of us."

"You can say that. My dad entrusted me to him. He's more or less taken his place." Matthew was rather proud of that and never missed an opportunity to claim this position, "He's been really good to me since I got here."

"Err … what do you mean by good?" The kid was really cute thought Chandler. Fisher would certainly have had him in his bed on the first night. Was it like that with Dunn too.

"You know, taken care of me. I was quite lonesome here at first. I've never been to such a school before away from my dad. He's tried to play the part of an uncle, let me play on his computer, help me in every way he could, talked to me, always there for me when I needed him. Why do you want to know?"

Chandler decided to be more direct. "Sorry to ask, but I know he likes boys. Hasn't he tried to touch you … do things you wouldn't want … you know what I mean?"

"Why would he do that? He's not like that. He's not like that at all. In fact, I wish he would consider me that way one day, but Sven and Anthony have taken that place. Also, I think he's afraid to do so, he feels responsible for me, and all that. You see — wait — are you saying he's been bothering you? Surely not?"

"Not at all. I hardly know him."

"Exactly, as I said he's not like that. You can ask any of us that know him. He's nothing like Fisher or the others, if you know what I mean."

"I know all too well what you're talking about. Thanks Matthew, you've been a great help."

"Didn't do much. Seems to me you got problems. You should go see him; he's really good. He can help you. That's what he does, him or Miss Simons or Walt, they're the best; you can trust them."

"Never thought of them, I'll do that. Can't thank you enough." Chandler was feeling a terrible weight lifted from his shoulders, there might be light at the end of the tunnel. All he had to do was go see the man and ask for his protection. Would it be enough, he wasn't sure, but now he had a clear alternative to spending his life in the company and fear of Tools.

***

Alex was confused. Why was he feeling that way toward Dunn? there was nothing that Alex wanted more than to be close to Dunn, to be "his boy," when he knew others held that place already. He was jealous of Matthew who he noticed talking with Chandler, a little apart from the others. Then there was Anthony, but most of all he was jealous of Sven, who spent the most time with the man. He wanted Dunn all to himself, with no one to share him with. Not for sex; that had always been uncomfortable; he was no girl. That is why he always wanted it hard and fast, as much pain as pleasure, to get it over with as soon as possible. Dunn had tried to please him by being mushy, and cajoling him, but that was not to his liking. He wanted someone to care for him, not someone who wanted his mouth, ass, or pretty body to play with. An adult who would protect him, make him laugh, talk to him, spend time with him, one he could count on and who would not ask that kind of thing in return. Things he had always desired but never really known.

That had been the initial deal with Greg and Fisher, at least his interpretation of it. He had been wrong. From the start he had had to perform, and to be honest he had been afraid of them — Greg mostly. Still, there had been many advantages since joining the club. All of his problems had disappeared, no more bullying, or bad grades, and many other advantages of a different nature. The story was quite common among club boys.

What if he achieved his goal and found a place close to Dunn? As much as he wanted to, he did not see how he could get rid of Sven and the others. Thinking that way was not right and he felt bad about it but it was his strongest desire. He would do anything he could to obtain that same status, even if it entailed those girly things Dunn liked. Would it be enough? He did not believe so. There would still be those three boys between him and Dunn. Was it worth it? Would it give him what he really wished for?

It would mean betraying his club friends. They, along with Greg and Fisher, might seek revenge. Most of the school supported the headmaster. Come to think of it, from his conversation with Dunn, he had gained valuable information that could give him some clout if he kept his present allegiances.

What had happened to Cole if he was not dead? What had they done with him? Nothing good, he would bet. The last time he'd seen him he was leaving the barbecue with Miss Cahill, quite a few days ago. He could always try to get some information about him. The main problem was that he was also wary of her and afraid of the boys she was associated with, many of whom were distinctly creepy. What had they done to him?

He was somewhat lost, and there was no doubt, his life was getting complicated.

***

Shirley had stopped giving drugs to Cole, why go on? She had already tried every type of drug she had. It was not fun anymore. Even her boys had lost interest, not wanting to fuck him so much. What was the point if he was an amorphous, unresponsive lump? It was time to get rid of him altogether, if only to test Harvey's determination with a well-known boy who would realize that his end was coming and could try to fight back. Harvey had told her that he planned to use Greg's method, the plastic bag. She had approved, it would be slow, and as he died, they would be able to observe his facial expressions–quite an experience.

Opening the door to the wardrobe, she could see him hanging there.

"Hello, my love, how are you feeling? Better, I hope. We have stuff planned for you in the next day or so. You must be fit."

She had raised his chin to look into his eyes. They had cleared up nicely and he could hold her stare, something that had not been possible for some time now. He was still a pretty thing, as she liked to say, even with the gag in his mouth. She still did not know why she wanted him dead. It was really Greg's fantasies that Harvey had described to her in great detail, while insisting on the fact that he had chickened out when faced by Mister Tools.

"Would you like me to take off your gag? Do your arms hurt? You've been in there for a few hours now."

Cole nodded expectantly.

"I'm happy to see that you're responding again," she said, as she took the gag off and then the manacles. "I agree those were probably too much but Harvey loved the idea."

"Thank you," breathed out Cole.

"Still, a polite and well-trained boy, I see. Carl did a good job with you. Come lie on the bed for a bit. Yes, you're doing well; you're coming out of it. I wasn't sure of the lingering effect of all those drugs. Did you like the experience?"

"I … don't know."

"Of course, it's too early. We still have time to discuss it later. Let me see if your little tool is back in working order."

She took Cole's cock head in her mouth caressing his sack and balls. It had some effect.

"What's going on? … Where are we? … Why are you doing that?"

"Seems you like it," she mumbled, with her mouth full, "Tastes delicious. You're not quite back with us yet, but you will be. I must say I'm tempted to pass the night with you, perhaps for the last time. We'll see."

She stood up and secured one of his hands to the bedpost.

"I'll be back shortly, bring you back something to eat. Rest till then."

Leaving the room, she locked the door to Abe's apartment, which held the boy. You could never be too cautious.

***

With only three horses for her and the six boys, the return trip took more time than Louise would have liked. Walt was riding with Bob, Brett shared his horse with William, and Benny and she had Sullivan, the smallest of the three leftovers from Melanie's community. She pushed the horses as much as she dared; the feeling of dread and urgency loomed large in her mind. Nevertheless, they had to walk the horses from time to time. It was midday when they finally arrived back at Saint Xavier.

Dunn and a few others came to meet them at the gate. The movement detectors had done their job and warned him of their arrival. More joined them, mostly Dunn's warriors, when the news that they were back made the rounds of the school. Fisher himself left his office to wait for Louise and welcome her in front of the administration building with Max by his side.

"Glad to see you back, Louise. Before we sit and you tell us what we need to know about your discoveries, may I suggest you go take a shower, perhaps eat something. We will meet with you in an hour at the usual place," the headmaster said with a smile that changed to a frown as he peered at the three alien boys.

"I think I'd appreciate that. You're right, what I have to say should not wait too long. One hour seems reasonable, though," she replied. She felt exhausted, the restless nights, the stress of the previous days heavy on her shoulders.

"And who are those boys?" Fisher could not refrain from asking the question in a disapproving tone.

Louise smiled.

"That is part of my story, which I'll keep for later."

Miles stepped in, "Sven, Matthew, lead the horses to the barn and take good care of them. Any of you need to go to the infirmary?" he asked Louise.

"No, we're all fine, just tired," she answered, as she got off Lucent, helping little Sullivan from the saddle.

Walt and Bob did the same, followed by Brett, who helped William and Benny down. The boy then retrieved his laptop with its precious contents, bringing it to Miles.

"You'll find all the images we took of the ferals' location in there, I think you should have a look before you talk with Louise," he said.

"That seems an excellent idea, Brett." Miles could see that the boy was not quite the same, those few days away from Saint Xavier had left their mark. He was tired with a drawn look but more straightforward in many ways. Miles had to say he found him even more desirable than before. "Come to my office to show me the files, you can take your shower later, you certainly need it." Like all the others, the smell emanating from the child was strong, the sweat, the dust, the horses, the woods, all those were mixed with that special one that Miles knew well now and appreciated, the scent of boy. He put his arm around Brett's shoulders who melted into his much larger and stronger frame in the same way Matthew often did, showing a deliberate affection and intimacy much appreciated by the man.

"All of you that went on this mission are expected to join us in the meeting room, we need to know everything you've seen and learned," interjected Fisher, who, looking at Miles and Brett, added, "There will be no time for anything else but I'm sure you'll catch up later." He sent a glance and a nod to Miles, "One more you caught in your net I would say."

Miles did not answer, Carl was always on the lookout for such things, but this remark was noticeably misplaced here. There were much more urgent matters to think about–the news was not good; Louise did not have to tell him, he had seen it in her face right away.

"Arthur, they are Benny, Sullivan, and William," said Louise. "I trust you to take them to Bear house and do everything necessary for them to feel at home, starting with a good shower and a change of clothes. I'll shower in my apartment."

"We'll go with them, said Walt, we need one too. See you later."

As the little group took the direction of Bear House, Greg stepped forward coming out of the shadows. He had been late to the party but immediately recognized the boy he had snatched and wanted to snuff not so long ago. Fortunately, he had been careful to stay hidden from him. It was an unexpected complication and he had no idea how to solve it. One option would be to finish the job and finally do what he had intended at the time; he just needed to lure the kid to a quiet place and do the deed, but what about the body? There would be questions, a search party. At the same time, he wondered if it was really necessary, would the kid recognize him? He was sure to have left a lingering impression but nothing was sure. Was it not true that victims of a sexual assault sometimes forgot everything about it, even the look of their aggressor? Still, it was certainly better to avoid the kid for a few days, let his beard grow, that might be enough. Fact is, he is not that interested in using his plastic bag anymore … well maybe as a last resort. What was certain was that he did not want the kid's story to be known by the whole school, no more than the events at the Alcomb farm. That would not be good publicity for him or for Fisher with whom he was associated. Perhaps he could see the kid in private and tell him not to squeak or else … that might be enough. He is a pretty thing, still a virgin, probably quite gullible. If he was persuasive enough, and had the right impact, that could lead to a nice deflowering. That would be much more fun than snuffing him. It was best to leave all the options open for now and see how the situation evolved.

In his office, Miles opened Brett's laptop, and in a few clicks, the boy showed him the location of the files to watch, but it was the boy that captured Miles' attention. His thoughts kept drifting towards sharing a shower with the boy, rather than looking at videos. Still, Miles was a soldier, duty was not a senseless word for him, notably when it could mean the survival of the boys he loved and ensure the preservation of the life he had been offered. Brett was relieved to be back at Saint Xavier, a far safer environment, and being with Miles, a reassuring presence. Miles knew that his strength and force of being was an important factor in the attraction many of the boys had for him. For his part, he did his best to be worthy of their trust.

He stole a few wet kisses from the delicious boy before sending him to the showers with a squeeze on his bottom.

"Hurry up, you stink. I won't be able to welcome you in my bed tonight if you don't do something about it."

"I'll do my best," replied Brett, as he stepped through the door. Miles noticed that he did not refuse the invitation.

Miles started watching the images taken by the drone. It did not take him long to be in the same frame of mind as Louise. There was more than one hour of video and he would need to watch it all a few times to comprehend all the information it offered.

With the meeting about to begin, he closed the laptop, taking it with him to the meeting room. He had seen enough to have a good idea of what their options were and felt ready to present them to the committee.

The meeting room was crowded, all the members of the committee were present, Carl Fisher, Greg Sutton, Raymond Tools, Omar Seku, Shirley Cahill, Frank Collier, and of course Miles Dunn and Louise Simons. The boys, Bob Vorhees, Walt Turner, and Brett Barnes, were now clean as a whistle, fresh from their showers, and with a new change of clothes, and finally, Max Kolochenko, not yet an official committee member himself but just missing the title.

Carl opened the session by stating each person's full name in a formal attendance fashion, this set the tone that this was an official committee meeting, after which, he yielded to Louise.

"We are all ears, Miss Simons, what did you find out there?"

Louise stood up to address the committee, "Hello everyone; and I must say it's good to be back here at Saint Xavier. Most of you have known me for a long time and know that I'm not an alarmist, but what we saw out there has me deeply troubled. There is a feral army ready to march at any moment, perhaps ten thousand strong, a number I cannot tell you with certainty, but what I am sure of, is that they would overwhelm us. On our reconnaissance trip, we saw a community such as ours wiped out. Carl, those three boys you asked about, they survived the attack by chance, they can tell you all about it. The ferals descended on them like a steamroller, some escaped, and those that stayed are dead. The most pressing question now is, Will they march in our direction? Could it happen to us? I cannot really answer that, though many hints tell us it's a strong possibility. Still, it could be tomorrow, in a week, or never."

"Which means we should be ready for them as soon as possible. Sorry to interrupt you Louise," said Miles, "But we are not ready, far from it."

"Isn't that a bit of an alarmist report?" said Collier, who had seldom ever spoken previously. "If I understand what you're saying, nothing is sure. There are ferals out there but you have no idea what they are planning or even if they are planning something."

"Yes, I agree with you Frank," enthused Carl, "This is all pure speculation. I'm not sure we have to mobilize all of our efforts to face a hypothetical threat. We have many other problems that need our attention."

"You could be right, Carl," Miles responded, but if what we fear really happens, all of those other problems would disappear; Saint Xavier would cease to exist. Some of us might be able to flee but there is nothing else to hope for, I've seen the images. Her estimation of at least ten thousand is very accurate."

"But what can be done?" interjected Collier, "I don't see a solution to this problem. We don't have the numbers, the weapons, or enough ammunition to face that many anyway. All we could do is organize a retreat."

Miles and Louise were destabilized for a moment. What was being said made sense; it was true that with three hundred boys or so, they could not face such numbers.

Tools threw the next punch at Louise's and Miles' theory, "Of the six scouts they sent, only one escaped, perhaps they learned their lesson and will avoid us. That is, if they really can communicate, so far we haven't seen any of them talk and if they are organized it can only be at a very low level, this is all too far-fetched for me."

"Oh they certainly do communicate they almost caught us!" declared Bob emphatically. We even think they set a trap for us. They're not that good but they're good enough and getting better. Don't underestimate them."

Louise leaned forward, placing the palms of both hands on the table and making direct eye contact with the boy who had narrowly escaped being caught. "You're right, Bob, there's a lot we don't know. I always wondered why they attack us and not at all the other ferals. How they identify those untouched by the flu? It's been a mystery from the beginning, one of many and now they are evolving."

As Brett listened, his own flashbacks to the past few days were vividly playing in his head. "The first thing I thought of when I saw them was ants. I've always been fascinated by them and studied them a lot. Watching them reminded me of an anthill. Seeing what they did to William's community, he is one of the boys we brought back, I thought of the movie, 'The Naked Jungle' with Charlton Heston. Have you seen it? It's about red ants, millions of them that eat everything in their path. That's exactly what happened to them and what could happen to us if they came our way."

Louise could see that the mission had a profound effect on the boys, as she replied, "Well Brett, I could not have said it better. I remember that movie very well. And there's more, after I sent you away with Bob, we saw very strange things back there."

"For example?" asked Carl.

"They are taking prisoners and having sex," Louise answered.

"They're having sex with their prisoners!" exclaimed Omar.

"Who knows?" said Louise. She was quite amused by the prefect's words and with a small smile, continued, "But no, that's not what I said. We saw three captured boys taken into the mall, for what purpose I have no idea, but it looked very much like ants bringing stuff back to their nest. Another time, we saw a couple having sex. I must say it was quite unexpected on both counts."

"One possibility that no one has considered yet is that they are slowly recovering from the flu or at least the effects," suggested Max, suddenly hopeful that Ivor was out there alive, and that in time he might become himself again.

Miles was skeptical, "I can't answer that with any certainty, but what I read in Doctor Perry's files does not offer any hope of that. The autopsies made on ferals showed severe brain damage. It was said there was no way they could recover from that. I don't think they'll ever be back to normal."

"Scientists have made many mistakes before," argued Max, still clinging to his fragile hope of being reunited with Ivor one day; they had only a few weeks to work on that new disease, they could have been wrong or not studied the right specimens."

"Or the disease itself did not affect everyone the same way," added Greg.

This was not an argument that anyone could win and Miles knew it. It was derailing what needed to be discussed. "I don't know, you may be right, but for now that does not help us solve the problem at hand. I think you should all have a good look at that video: it will convince you of the danger we face and the urgency with which we must act. We cannot remain idle and wait for the outcome."

"But what else can be done?" asked Tools, obviously concerned. "You trained the boys, gave them weapons. What else can we do?"

While watching the drone images, Miles had taken the time to write down his thoughts on the matter.

"We must prepare for the possibility of a massive attack, if they come our way, there is no way we can face those numbers. We need to plan for a safe and organized evacuation of the school.

"Leave Saint Xavier? Where would we go?" exclaimed Carl, openly upset.

"That's what we have to decide. It could be temporary; we could come back once the danger is gone."

"I much prefer that," said Carl. "What if they stayed, or worse, gave chase to us?"

"Then we would start a war of attrition. It would not be a comfortable situation but we could try."

"Are there any alternatives to running?" asked Greg.

"There is, but it would require more of a general policy change, one Carl will probably oppose."

"Shoot, I want to hear everything," said the headmaster.

"We know of at least one other community around here, at the food depot, and there are certainly more. We can contact them and join forces, giving us a better chance of winning the day."

"Yes, you're right; I don't like that option at all."

"I thought so. The big problem is that it will take time and some of them, like you, might not see the urgency of taking tough enough measures. There is one other alternative though."

"I'm sure you've been holding the best till last. Tell us," said Tools.

"Just before the meeting I had a few words with Louise and it seems we both had the same idea. It was href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Washington">George Washington who said 'The best defense is a good offense'."

"You want to attack them! You're crazy!" interrupted Omar.

"Be quiet and listen." said Max, sternly rebuking Omar.

Miles gave an approving nod to Max before continuing, "Thank you, I must say that wasn't the original idea but now that you mention it, I might give it some thought. Louise, tell us what you found there."

"Next to the mall there is a giant parking lot full of military vehicles, including Hummers, Bradley Fighting Vehicles — those names come from Major Dunn — also fuel and water trucks, along with a large contingent of military supply vehicles full of crates. Some had been taken out and opened, and with the drone, we were able to see they contained ammunition and small weapons. A treasure trove if we could put our hands on them."

"I see what you mean, but how could we get them with the ferals all around, ready to jump on us?"

"Very few ferals were close to it. We saw a few but they seem to avoid that area."

"Why is that?"

"No idea. There's nothing for them there, probably."

"So, yours and Miles' plan is more a covert action to sneak in there with some of our boys and leave with some of those trucks," suggested Carl.

"More or less, yes. If we could put our hands on that equipment, along with the ammo, that would really make a big difference," answered Miles.

"Enough to stop them?" asked Carl.

"That might do the job, if used right."

"Won't you need keys for them? Where would you find them?" asked Tools.

"Military vehicles don't use keys; they lock the steering wheel with a cable when stored. The combat lock for the doors is activated from the inside only. We shouldn't have a problem with locks, unless there's a dead soldier inside a locked vehicle.

"How many boys would you need?" Carl's eyes were beaming, he was hooked; the idea of having all that power at his disposal was fascinating to him. Whether it was used against the ferals or not was secondary.

"Difficult to say right now. I would need to watch that video a few more times. Perhaps even go there and get more views. This will not be an easy task. I need to study the layout and different routes in and out. We have to go in but we also have to get out as safely as possible."

"Walt suggested we use a diversion," said Louise.

"That might be feasible; it would bring all the ferals away from our main objective, most of them at least. But it could be kind of a suicide mission."

"Let's send Dunn's warriors then," said Shirley.

"Very funny," said Louise, with daggers in her eyes.

"Calm down, lady, it was a joke. Don't you have any humor?" Shirley seemed very satisfied with her joke, if it was one.

"Was it humor?" insisted Louise.

"Stop it, ladies we are discussing serious matters here. Dunn what do you think?"

"I think that it will need serious preparations to be successful."

"So, do you think you can pull it off?"

"Too early to say but it might be possible. I would need to have access to all our resources without restriction. And have full command of the operation."

"You are our military expert here, it goes without saying; you'll get everything you want."

"But I prefer to hear it clear and loud before going any further."

"We'll have a vote then," said Carl, raising his hand.

Louise was next, followed by all the others, even the kids, Miles was the last to raise his hand; he had noticed an obvious reticence from some of them.

"That's settled. We'll have a second vote when you've constructed a valid plan that you can present to us to decide if we adopt it or not."

"I'll try to be done soon. Like Louise, I believe the threat is real and that we do not have that much time. I insist that we should at least warn the neighboring communities and try to obtain some mutual assistance."

"If it stays on that level, I agree, but nothing more than that. Greg has found a few around the area; I asked him to look for them; I'll send him with a message from us."

Miles was surprised by Carl's backtracking; it had been too easy. Had he been convinced of the threat or was it just a ploy? With Greg as the messenger, it was a possibility. Miles would need to have a word with the young man, if he had knowledge of communities nearby, besides the one at the food depot, he should have been informed already.

"One more thing."

"Yes, Dunn."

"When Omar spoke of an attack, it gave me an idea. As I said, I saw Bradley's on that parking lot, at least five of them, with mounted canons and machine guns. We could use those vehicles to hit the ferals hard and provide an easier escape for the supply trucks. I'll work on that too; see if it can be done."

"I like the sound of it, and of course you would bring them back here."

"That would be the plan."

"If it works once, you could go back there and bring even more weapons."

"That's a possibility, but the ferals might learn from it and the second time might be much more difficult."

"With that arsenal we would be safe from any adversary."

"It's not that simple, a few thousand ferals could still overcome us. It depends on how we use what we have to stop them. Certainly, we would not wait for them to reach the school. We could use the vehicles to attack and hopefully annihilate any large groups. Smaller splinter groups though would be harder to spot and kill. They may be able to evade the vehicles and reach the school. Then there's the question of ammunition, and the amount we have. Without it, however powerful your weapon, you're useless.

Miles feared that his answer was not adequate, Carl was not really thinking of the ferals when he spoke.

"Very well, everybody here will be available to help you in any way you see fit. Do not hesitate to ask. We can now close this committee session."

***

Raymond Tools left the meeting room in the same mood that he had entered it.

The other night when he had tried to find a replacement for Chandler, he had discovered that it would not be that easy. All of the prettiest boys, whether they were gullible, easy to convince, or otherwise had found a suitor, all of those he had thought of at least, and his search for the perfect virgin had been a fiasco. He had gone as far as considering taking to his bed little Ryan, the bed wetter, and youngest of the whole school, but finally rejected him. He was a puny thing, not enough flesh to make it worthwhile. Thus, he had spent the night alone thinking of the boy he had wanted to love and whom the next evening had stood him up. Now it would be a different story.

He needed an outlet to vent his resentment. The last forty-eight hours had been frustrating and infuriating. The little shit, Chandler, had taken him for a ride. When he did not show up last evening, as had been scheduled, and he had gone to find him … no one knew where he was! It was only when he arrived for his job at the video control room, in the morning, that he had been able to see him. Not wanting to put on a show in front of witnesses he uttered a few well-chosen words and decided to bide his time, waiting until his time in front of the screens would be over. There would be no more games. He planned on taking him to his apartment and treating him as he had the Alcomb farm boy. He would become his fuck toy at the school and nothing more — gone were all hopes of a special relationship with him.

He had been slightly worried that the meeting would last longer but it had not been so, he was perfectly on time at ten minutes before six, when the boy would be released from his duties.

Raymond went straight to the video control room. He wanted to have the pleasure of seeing the boy's reactions to the knowledge of what was awaiting him that evening. Not the whole scenario, there would still be surprises. To that end, he had borrowed two pairs of manacles, putting one pair in his back pocket, just in case. A gag and a few other gadgets from Fisher's collection lay waiting in his bedroom and he intended to make good use of them. He would try not to leave too many marks on the boy's body but he was beyond all these considerations now. The only thing that mattered was his pleasure and he would do whatever he wanted. There would be no more way out for Chandler. The time for leniency was over; it was time for him to pay and to learn his place in the new order of things. He would relish that moment of realization when the boy would understand what he had lost. Fisher had his catamites; he would have one too. Perhaps it would take a few days for the boy to accept it, a prolonged stay in the apartment might even be required, he had heard of Cole's predicament. He would tell Max to find a replacement for him at the video room, just in case.

It took him a few seconds when he entered the control room to realize that the boy was not there.

"Where's Chandler? He should be here." Raymond could barely hide his disappointment and mounting furor.

"He left an hour ago, said he wasn't feeling well, that he was going to the infirmary. We called for a replacement, Fredrick here took his place."

"The job is being done, all screens are being monitored, you don't have to worry," answered one of the boys, intimidated.

Tools barged out, heading for the infirmary.

***

Miles, Louise, and the boys stayed to talk for a few minutes after the meeting.

"I'm going to have another look at the video and start work on the proposed operation," Miles stated, "I suggest you go to dinner and then get some much needed sleep".

"I can stay with you," Brett volunteered, "in case you need help or have any questions."

It was better to have someone who had been there to answer them. He saw no reason to refuse, they would grab a bite to eat when they were done and end the evening in the man's bed. It would do no harm to become reacquainted with the boy who seemed genuinely happy to be with him and it would be a good introduction for the hoped for intimate exchanges of the night.

"Would you like to sit on my lap, that's probably the best way to see the video together?" Miles suggested, not innocently.

"I don't mind," replied Brett, who had gained some assurance in the last few days.

Miles did not have to ask a second time before the boy had settled in his lap making himself comfortable. The boy with his skimpy shorts and sleeveless tee shirt was an invitation to something completely different from what they were supposed to achieve.

"Let's get to work then." That sentence required all of Miles' willpower to be delivered.

He would have preferred to take the boy to the couch and deflower him unceremoniously. But he refrained from doing so, allowing only his hands to partake in the enjoyment of the child's delicious skin and shapes, leaving the right one on a glorious thigh and the other holding him in place pressed over his flat stomach, under his tee shirt.

Brett could not ignore the man's obvious erection against his back but was clearly not bothered by it. On the contrary, he was overtly flirting with Miles, all smiles and kisses, not shy of rubbing himself somewhat on the hard shaft pressing against his back. Miles was helped in his resolve to keep up the appearances and stay concentrated on his task, by considering that it bode very well for what was to come later that night. He wished for the boy to later open his creamy thighs and bubbly bottom, if possible without too much fuss. He had dreamed of entering it since he had seen it and even more since he had left the school with Louise. What was out of reach was always more appealing.

The seriousness of their work soon took precedence and for over an hour they studied the images in detail sometimes frame by frame trying to make the most out of them. Using Louise's notes, they drew a more detailed map of the parking lot, placing on it the vehicle types and marking those of particular interest. They also made another map of the area with each structure they saw and all the access roads that they could use. Those were the elements he would need. By the time they were done, the exhausted boy's eyes were closing of their own volition, his tiredness catching up.

It was a sleepy boy that went with him to the deserted cafeteria. They had some leftovers that Sven warmed up in the kitchen. The boy, always obliging, had waited for them.

When he came to serve them, he found Brett asleep, his head resting on his crossed arms.

"Isn't he cute?" stated Miles.

"He is but not as cute as I am. I'm still number one. I don't think he'll be of much use in bed tonight. It will be me again. You lucky guy," replied the boy with some humor.

"And you'll love it. That's true, Sven. I am a very lucky guy to have met you," he brought the child to him catching him by his waist and French kissed him.

"I'm not going to carry him, that's up to you," said the boy, disengaging himself gently and with regret.

"Perhaps we should wake him up to eat something."

"Let him sleep. I think he needs it."

"You are certainly right."

"I'll make him a sandwich or two that he can have later if he wants."

Sven went back to the kitchen while Miles ate his dinner in a hurry. As the boy returned, he was done and he took Brett in his arms.

"Does it bother you if he shares our room?"

"Tonight, certainly not. We'll see when he gets more lively."

"You're the perfect boy. You must be hiding something, you can't be that good."

"In bed you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean and I love you dearly for it."

"That I know, and that's why I'm that good. Stop loving me and I'll turn into a devil."

"I'll never stop loving you one way or another." Miles knew that things would change when the boy grew up but still hoped that his love would stay very much alive even if it were not physical anymore.

"Let's go. I'm sure he weighs more than he looks," teased Sven.

"Not that much. I'll manage until we get there."

They arrived at Bear House shortly after and Miles left the boy still sleeping on the bed just taking off his sneakers.

"I need to work some more, I want most of my proposal to be ready by tomorrow. I'll join you later."

"Okay, I'll see what William is up to. Then I'll warm the bed for you."

It was only at two in the morning that Miles came back. Both boys were asleep and he watched them, admiring their beauty. Sven was in the nude as was his habit, and he wasn't the only one at Saint Xavier, Miles had taken the habit as well as many others. It was still hot and muggy as before, even without any recent rain. Global warming? If the newscasts were still on, they would certainly say so, but one could think that the flu had ended mankind's contribution to the problem, by now CO2 emissions must have come close to a stop, but that didn't mean global temperatures would come down for a very long time.

He didn't want to disturb them and was careful not to rock the bed when he joined them. There was enough room for the three of them and more. They had put four beds together side by side to create a large sleeping area that was also dedicated to their lovemaking and could accommodate Miles and quite a few boys.

Soon, he was tempted to wake Sven for a quickie, he was erect, and Brett's presence was an exciting magnet. If he were honest, he would say Brett was really who he wanted to make love to. In other times, he probably would have done it, whatever the consequences, but not anymore. He could now have all the sex, all the love he wanted. These last months and his immersion in a boys' world had made his education, he certainly possessed a much better knowledge of boys, in all their facets. They were no longer idolized creatures, they were flesh and blood, quite different from the concepts he had when he didn't live among them. It had given him much better control of himself. Thus, he decided to leave them alone for once and to go to sleep.

Tomorrow would be another day, full of promise.

Brett was well within reach, on his side, facing away from him and toward Sven. His delicious, lightly covered bottom was sticking out, and his sumptuous creamy thighs flaunting him. It was impossible to resist and called for a caress. He was soon delicately exploring the boy's delicacies with one hand while pleasing himself with the other. He came fast, spraying his sperm on the boy's back. He was asleep five minutes later.

Yes, he was still full of contradictions, and one could rightfully say, he was not yet fully in control of his cravings.

***

Sasha was looking after Vicky. She just had one of her nightmares and it had not been easy to put her back to sleep. Even with the doctor's medications, she was still not well and his guilt wasn't going to go away anytime soon. At least, they were now safe and taken care of.

Doctor Lance Walford, the Doc for everyone here, had told him his story. So far, he had survived with his son, seven-year-old Tyler, but had lost his wife. He was the heart of a community whose goal was to help the survivors of the flu and notably the youngest ones. The toddlers were not able to manage by themselves and often not even capable of asking for help. That had been his wife's idea and crusade, she had been going door to door to try to find as many as possible and take them to safety, a dangerous task with so many ferals and desperate people out there, but well worth the effort. They were otherwise doomed to die, not just at the hands of their infected parents or strangers, but also from thirst or hunger, prisoners in their homes, perhaps an even more terrible fate.

At first, the military helped the Doc run his clinic in the center of town, but soon things went from bad to worse. Adults were dying one after the other. Most of the volunteers were women and getting it faster, his wife among them. They had to ban the sick, learning the hard way how dangerous they were. Their main support, the military, started becoming disorganized then vanished. Soon the number of adults had dwindled and they had to rely mostly on the older boys to care for the younger ones. By that time, they had over thirty toddlers at the clinic. It had been difficult from the start but had become a nightmare with diminishing resources and personnel. But they had managed and reached a balance. Hope was on the rise, there had been no new cases of the flu for some days now and it was perhaps time to think again about the future. Sasha wondered what it would be.

For now, his main occupation was to do his best for Vicky until she recovered. The rest would have to wait. For a time he had thought of taking her back to the community where they had met but it now sounded like a bad idea. They were safe here and with good people, nothing was more important now than that. Vicky liked to take care of the little ones; it helped her during the days even if the nights were still difficult, with nightmares, bouts of anxiety and panic. He was dedicated to staying by her side as long as she would allow it.

That's how the Doc found them, at night when he came to check on them. Close together and holding hands.

Chapter 26

The day started with a knock on the door, which usually meant something serious. Brett was asleep, and Miles had been woken earlier by Sven, whose head was still bobbing up and down in his lap – a rather pleasant way to be woken up.

"We won't have time to finish, I fear."

Sven pulled his mouth away from the engorged cock with regret, a trickle of saliva on his chin that Miles wiped off gently with a finger.

"You were doing great, getting really good at it."

Brett, now awake, was looking at them, not knowing how to react. Such intimacy and casual acts of sex were still quite new to him.

Miles put on his boxer shorts and went to the door, where he was surprised to see Arthur in the company of the boy who played Ralph in Tools' play. He had not forgotten his name, Chandler, nor his charming features. The boxer shorts did nothing to hide Miles' morning wood, which was in full bloom and obviously a bit of embarrassment for the boy. His cock would not go down any time soon after Sven's ministrations, and certainly not now with the sight of this delectable specimen of boyhood displayed before him.

"Morning sir."

"Morning, Arthur. What can I do for you? What brings you here? Chandler, isn't it. "

"Yes, sir. Sorry to disturb you so early," said the boy, nervously.

"We found him in one of the unoccupied rooms yesterday evening. He wouldn't say what he was doing there and asked to talk with you only. You were busy at the time, so I didn't want to bother you, but now I wonder what we should do with him."

"Well, Chandler, What do you have to say?" The boy looked miserable, not at all the same as when he had first met him after the play, surrounded by people that praised his performance. "Perhaps you would like to speak with me in private?"

"Yes, please, that would be much easier."

"Okay then, follow me."

Miles had seen the boy with Tools and the headmaster at the video center and wondered if he had overheard something concerning Fisher's plans? Or perhaps something about Cole that he wanted to discuss? Or maybe he had been sent to infiltrate their group. Max might have thought the mics were not enough. No, this was nonsense, absurd, given the irrefutable threat they all faced from the ferals.

"Let's go in here," he said, as he led the way into an empty room. "Take a seat and tell me your story."

"I don't know where to begin."

"Take your time. Perhaps you could start by telling me why you came here in the first place."

"I wanted to escape Mister Tools."

"Escape Tools? I thought you two were quite close; he seems like a good man to me."

"He was … but he's changed since all this started, he's not the same man, and I'm afraid of him."

"Afraid? Why would you be? It seems to me you're exaggerating, don't you think. Has he hurt you?"

"You don't believe me?"

Miles saw the boy's eyes start to well up and knew he had taken the wrong approach to the child's problem.

"I'm sorry, Chandler, I'm surprised, that's all. Tell me what's bothering you, I can try to help; you just have to speak up."

Miles wanted to take the boy in his arms to comfort him but feared it would be misinterpreted. His attraction to boys, especially pretty boys such as Chandler, was well known and an integral part of his being. As for boys, he already had more than enough, but it was in his nature to never close the door.

"Raymond wants me if you know what I mean … he wants me bad, and he won't take 'no' for an answer."

The room was silent for a moment as they both sat there, Chandler had just blurted out what to him was too close to revealing an inner secret. He kept his head bowed down, hands together at his lap, and fidgeting, while Miles was absorbing what he said and not wanting to make another mistake.

Miles spoke delicately, "What makes you so afraid of him? It seems totally out of character for him to pose a threat to anyone."

Chandler looked up, but did not make eye contact, "Well, I can't put my finger on it exactly; I thought I knew him pretty well before the flu and I really liked him. So at first, I accepted to be his boy, even though I wasn't too keen on the sex part.

"At Eagle House, you've got to have someone to protect you from the seniors, and he was the obvious choice, but he's not the same person anymore, I can see it in his eyes: he's angry and ready to take it out on anyone, and I know he will, you have to believe me."

"I do believe you." Miles knew Raymond had chosen to support Fisher, and that choice gave credit to the boy's concerns: Chandler's attitude and words rang true.

"I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Let me stay at Bear House, away from him."

"That I can do. Is that all?"

Chandler hesitated, he lowered his head until his chin made contact with his chest, and with a low voice, "I'm afraid not."

Miles was meticulous and could hear the stress in Chandler's voice as he gently encouraged the boy to go on, "Tell me."

"I'm quite certain he won't let it go. Just staying here won't be enough. He'll keep asking me to go back to him."

"And you need me to tell him that you are off-limits?"

"Something like that, yes." Chandler kept his head down, not daring to raise his eyes and see Miles's reaction. Did he fear his demand would be denied or that there would be a price to pay?

"I must say this puts me in a difficult position, Chandler, there is a lot of antagonism between me, Fisher, and his supporters. If Tools is in the frame of mind that you describe, I'm sure to make myself one more committed enemy. I obviously don't need that at this time."

Chandler was shocked; his body jolted, it was with a blubbering voice that he spoke again, "You … you won't help me?" Slowly raising his head to reveal tears on his face, he made eye contact with Miles now scared, he cried out, "I'll do whatever you want. I can't go back there!"

It was a dramatic scene for Miles, who did not have experience dealing with pubescent emotions, as he quickly responded, "You misunderstood; you don't have to do anything. I will help you. I'll do it because it is the right thing to do."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much!" The boy jumped out of his seat to embrace Miles, expressing such gratitude and relief that it became almost comical.

"Calm down. It's not going to be easy. If Tools is tenacious, we will have to watch over you, and you'll have to be careful not to go around by yourself."

"Yes, of course, anything you want."

Miles' smiled and tilted his head to the side as he said, "You know, I would love to take you up on that offer, so, maybe, if you feel like it someday." He raised his eyebrows while slightly nodding his head to let the boy know he was being lighthearted. "But for now, I'll have a word with Tools and see how it goes, and until then, let's find Arthur; you'll stay with him or Melvin and not leave their sight."

The prefect was in his room.

"Arthur, I'm entrusting this young man to you and Melvin. He has problems with Tools that I'll explain later. Make sure he's within sight of one of you at all times and doesn't leave this house until further notice."

"Yes, sir."

Miles left in a hurry. He urgently needed to relieve his full bladder, and he had two boys waiting for him in his bedroom. He glanced at his watch. We could have close to thirty minutes to ourselves, that's more than enough.

***

Shirley was watching the sleeping boy closely. He was now drug-free and in good enough shape to be the subject of her experiment, if you could call it that. She just had to find the right moment for it. She wasn't sure what she wanted, a quick death or a slow one, but in the latter case, it would have to be in the evening, when she and Harvey were free of any scheduled duties.

She caressed his rump and thigh, his hair; she had washed him the night before – what a fine boy, what a strange idea to want to end his life.

She still wondered why it was so, she had found a few objective reasons, tried to rationalize the whole thing, but it was not quite satisfactory. There had been so many deaths already, why did she want to add one more, to test Harvey? To silence the boy after all the bad treatments he had endured at the hands of Fisher, herself, and her boys? All that was rather lame, but she did find one more reason of a different nature. She had the idea that he was to be a sacrifice to ensure her survival and the future of Saint Xavier as envisioned by Carl. She liked that one best, it worked well with the primitive nature of their new world, and it was much more pleasant and fascinating than if it was simply to please a passing wicked whim.

"Wake up, Cole. I've brought you your breakfast."

On a platter beside the bed was a bowl of cereal with milk and a glass of orange juice.

"Thank you, Shirley." The boy had learned the hard way to do everything right and not upset those in power; he was there to obey and please, nothing else.

"Good boy. It's a pity when you think about it; nothing would have happened if you had let Carl do with you as he wanted. You would be with your friends outside, training or doing your chores or playing. What a waste."

Shirley did not expect an answer; Cole had been taught not to speak unless it was demanded. She patted his head as you would with a pet.

"If you keep being good like that, we might set you free again. In fact, we could do that very soon, you'll see. It will be a big surprise."

Cole, between two mouthfuls, sent her a glance that she wasn't sure how to interpret. Hopeful? Ironic? Defiant? It left her with a bad impression. She stood up.

"I'll leave you for now, but I'll be back later, we will share a moment, like before. I fear you'll be unwilling to indulge me once we've let you go. I will miss our times together." It was said with sincerity – a most absurd notion.

As she left, she locked the door, and Cole, after one more sip of juice, set it aside, and resumed his work.

***

As he entered the room, Miles saw Brett and Sven, both naked, kissing and pleasuring each other. His response was immediate and easy to see with his imposing erection tenting his shorts.

Upon seeing Miles, Brett quickly removed his hand from Sven's slender shaft. Public shows of affection or sex were still embarrassing to him, but for Sven, it was quite different; he was at ease with his body and open about the physical relationships that he enjoyed. Modesty was not a problem for him anymore.

"I see that my naughty boys rather like each other. That's so nice to see, do you mind if I join you?"

"I'd love it. We were just getting in the mood. Brett's still a bit shy, but he's receptive." Sven's hand never moved from the boy's groin; in fact, his fingers continued to knead the boy's hairless balls as he spoke gently.

Miles was nonchalantly pulling off his shorts when he saw the worried look on Brett's face staring directly at his impressive manhood.

"You won't put that in me?" A statement he posed as a question, obviously still quite worried by the idea.

"No, not now, we don't have time for that. I want it to be special for both of us, and I won't do anything until you ask for it, but I'm sure that Sven will welcome it."

"Sure will."

"See, that way you'll see there's nothing to be afraid of if it's done right," said Miles.

"How do you want me to do it?" Sven's question was for the two of them, as his head turned side to side.

"We don't have that much time, I'll do you from behind, and Brett will join later, once he sees how it goes."

"Works for me," answered Sven. "What about you, Brett?"

"Okay, I'm curious to see it going in."

KY was back and in abundance, provided by Fisher as part of his grand scheme, and Anthony said Greg had brought plenty back to the school. Miles took the lube from the side table as Sven was getting into position. He put a good chunk of it on his cock.

"Would you mind spreading it for me, Brett?" He wanted the boy to participate and hoped he would let him have a good feel of his ass, perhaps test his ring with a finger for a start.

"Why not."

Brett got to work, with Miles enjoying the small hand on his engorged organ while he used the opportunity to touch and caress the boy's marvelous left thigh, not daring to go further yet and scare him away. He scooped some more lube to spread in and around Sven's sweet pucker.

"Good job, Brett. Now see how it's done."

Miles rubbed his glans on the ring's lips, one hand on Sven's back to steady himself and feel his readiness. He started to push forward with little jabs at first and then more purposefully. When he felt the muscle relax, he pushed in, resolutely opening the way and progressing fast until two-thirds of his member was buried within. Sven hissed a few times but did not try to escape the invasion; on the contrary, he often pushed back to get more of it inside.

Brett was fascinated, observing the process wide-eyed.

"Does it hurt?" he could not avoid asking, wondering how such a big object could enter such a tiny hole.

"A bit at first, but it's a strange kind of pain; I'm quite used to it, and now comes the good part."

Miles, on cue, started to fuck the boy who was on all fours, lowering his chest onto the boy's back, with one hand on his hip and the other holding onto his shoulder. With long thrusts, he pounded forward and backward, gaining more depth each time, until there was a distinct slapping sound.

Miles paused long enough to grab two pillows, placing them under Sven's midsection, and to take a moment to brush the boy's erect cocklet on the way and give it a few strokes. Sven instinctively lay on them and raised his butt; Miles pushed back into the boy and resumed his fucking, accelerating the tempo.

"Come, Brett, join us," he said, placing one hand on the child's neck, bringing his face to him for a lingering kiss. "How do you feel?"

"Well, I don't really know, it's a bit overwhelming."

"It's only natural; first times are like that for everybody. Will you let me play with your butt some, see how it feels."

"You won't put it in?"

"Never, not without your agreement, I promise. Besides, right now, Sven would mind if I stopped, and, I told you, this is not the time."

"Okay then."

"Good."

Miles moved the boy up in the bed, putting his pecker level with Sven's head, who slipped his lips around the proffered stiff morsel.

"Ahhh," Brett exhaled simply, as Miles was kissing his glorious globes and creamy thighs one hand kneading the generous and tender flesh before tracing a line down his crack and seeking the treasure hidden there.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," said Miles, still thrusting away and kissing Sven's face and Brett's butt cheek alternatively.

Miles' urge to test the boy's ring of rosy flesh was too strong; he scooped some lube from his sticky rod and sent a finger to the child's unsuspecting virgin pucker. He played with it for a few minutes without a word or reaction from Brett; then, suddenly, the boy began to spasm, thanks to Sven's ministrations. Miles instinctively knew this was an opportune moment and forced his finger in, his index finger effortlessly slipped past the child's anus, and he immediately went in search of the pleasure nub he knew was there. Once found, he stimulated it, his finger making the boy spasm a second and then a third time. He was now quite adept at pleasuring boys and liked giving almost as much as receiving.

Miles himself came copiously a moment later, Sven had let go of Brett's pecker and found his mouth for a deep kiss, they had their orgasm together.

They lingered in bed for a few minutes more, in silence at first, Miles with one arm around each boy enjoying the feel of their young, lithely flesh. It had been a highly satisfactory bout of sex for them all. Miles was confident that Brett would soon grant him full access to his lovely butt.

"So, Brett, what did you think of that?"

"I never thought you could get that kind of kick from there, it sent electricity up my dick and through my whole body."

"Lucky boy, only a few weeks back, all I conceived of was to put my cock in a boy's mouth or ass, get my pleasure fast and run away in fear and shame. Since then, thanks to Sven, Anthony, and a few others who've taught me so much, I've discovered a new world full of possibilities I never dreamed of, and now, I think I'm a better man and a much better lover."

"This could be called, showing off," said Sven with a smile.

"Don't listen to him; he keeps asking for more."

"I can understand that. I'm ready for more too. Still not sure about letting you put your thing in me, though, looks awfully big compared with your finger."

"But you wouldn't mind trying." This was stated more like an offer than a question, with Miles' gentle smile and slight nod showing his eagerness and hope.

Brett didn't answer; his young mind was still racing with the intense pleasure he just experienced. It was the classic right-brain/left-brain argument: logically, Miles' member was too big, but he definitely wanted those feelings again.

Miles, seeing Brett's wide-eyed look and frozen stance, knew the boy couldn't answer right now and decided to help by ending the conversation.

"I've got to go. Let's get dressed; we've got a big day ahead.

***

Miles called a meeting for ten o'clock, with all the committee members, as well as Max, Tom Cruise, and Walt. He was in his element; this was his field of competence, a standard military operation, albeit carried out mostly by schoolboys.

"Please be seated, and since no one is missing, let's get started. I'll begin by explaining the operation and then take questions at the end."

All listened intently.

"First, we'll need at least three days of preparations before we're ready. I need to check access roads and alternate exit routes. All involved will have to learn and know their roles down to the smallest of details. We must be sure they can perform what will be asked of them. I plan to go back there with drones today to check that everything still matches Louise's video. During that time, she will take the necessary steps here, helped by Max, to have everyone fully trained to execute their roles. It is all written down."

"The whole operation itself is rather simple. We will send two vehicles with well-armed boys to create a diversion and attract as many ferals as possible. Then the main group of fifty will enter the parking lot deserted by the ferals and take possession of the trucks and armored vehicles we want: as discreetly and quickly as possible. Ten drivers will remain with the cars to protect them in case we need to abandon the plan and retreat at short notice. We will bring jerricans to refuel them if necessary. If all goes well, and the area is more or less clear of the ferals, this should be accomplished rather easily. If we encounter some resistance, or the diversion is not as successful as we hope, then we will retreat with as many of the vehicles as we can. Once we have seized the vehicles and formed a convoy, it will be safe for the cars to make their way back to the school, escorted by the convoy if necessary. Our priority will always be the safety of our boys.

I had thought at one time to use the Bradleys and Humvees to attack the ferals once we had secured our objectives but finally abandoned the idea. We don't know how much fuel or ammo we will find, and the boys haven't been trained with those vehicles and weapons. Better to learn that first, before we use them against the ferals. If all goes well, we might do that and return later to seize more trucks and what they contain. I'll monitor the operation, following each group with the drones. That will give me an overall picture of the situation, allowing me to give orders and pass on relevant information in real-time. We will communicate with the radios. I think that sums it up, that's all I have to say, so far. Are there any questions?"

At first, there was only silence.

"Who will defend the school while you're away with most of our weapons?" asked Fisher.

"Saint Xavier will have enough well-trained boys and guns left to defend the school during the time we're gone, the whole point of this is to get better weapons and equipment to ensure our survival."

"Who will do the diversion? It seems to me, it's the riskiest action."

"You're right, Omar, I think it should be our best, they'll need to make contact with the enemy and maintain it for some time to be effective, before they can retreat. We'll ask for volunteers, and I'm sure you'll be among the first to do so." There was irony but also seriousness in Miles' words.

"Perhaps that should be your place too?" said Max.

"If it were possible, then yes, but we need to have a commander in chief overseeing the entire operation, making strategic decisions as conditions unfold. Do you think you could do that? Do you have the experience? Would you give the right orders and make the right decisions? At the right moment, know how to react to the unexpected?"

"No, that's outside my area of expertise, but I'll lead the diversion group if you agree. It is more fitting for me."

"I agree and I trust you to do your best to fulfill your mission and bring everyone back."

"I want in too," said Greg, "I want to be where the action is, and I'll bring my pals."

"You proved your value before," replied Miles, "if your pals join you, the diversion group would be complete."

"Sorry to disagree, but it cannot be so," interrupted Fisher.

"Why is that?" said Miles half-surprised.

"We all know the antagonism bred from our different views concerning the future of this place. If Max, Greg, and others from my side were not to come back, that would endanger the balance we've reached so far."

"The balance? What a strange way to describe it. If you prefer, I'll have some of my boys join them to ease your worries. But, you can be sure that, in any case, I would do my best to see that all our boys, from whichever side, return to us safe and sound. I do not need to be reminded that the ferals are our real enemy."

There was no doubt that Fisher and Miles had had the same thought: how convenient if Max, Greg and his friends did not come back to Saint Xavier. It would be of great benefit to the marine in his fight for power, as seen by Carl.

"We should discuss this in private when we go over the list of the boys selected," concluded Fisher.

"As you wish, any other, more practical questions?"

That last exchange had exacerbated the animosity. Miles decided that this was certainly not the time to try to talk with Tools about Chandler. The man had been silent so far with a constant frustrated expression.

"How long will it take to get those trucks and leave the place? How will you get there without being noticed?" asked Max.

"We will try to do it in thirty minutes to minimize risk. I've seen what ferals are capable of, and I want to strike before they can respond. The main force will use the school's hybrid vehicles to quietly reach the objective, while the diversionary force will use the Humvee and the school utility truck. We need to make sure our driving boys can drive the trucks off-road if necessary, make emergency maneuvers, and do so under the stress of battle: training is key to our success – again, I want everyone to return safely.

"At what time of the day will you attack?" asked Max.

"Dawn, that way I'll be able to check the parking lot more effectively with the heat detectors on the drone and visually with the cameras to know if the area is still ignored by the ferals, as it seemed to be previously. It is also the time I expect them to be the least active. Any more questions?" No one spoke. "Well, that wraps it up. Louise and I, as you might expect, vote to take action; in our opinion, there is no real alternative. We'll now leave you to make up your own mind. Carl can see me before lunch with your decision, and hopefully, we'll use that time to finalize the list of participants and any other operational details. You'll find me in my office Carl, once you're done here."

***

"What are they doing?" asked Bob, whispering, "Did you hear my name or Chad's?"

"No, it's rather boring. Just exchanging lists and barring some of the names on them, looking at maps. They've been at it for a good fifteen minutes." Matthew was perched on Bob's shoulders while Chad was the lookout at the door.

Like all boys, they loved exploring and a few days back, they had discovered a vent between Mister Dunn's office and the adjoining room, empty since the secretaries had gone, never to come back. It had been partially hidden by a picture in a frame and was rather high up the wall. The metal grid had been taken away on their side, and you could see part of what was going on the other side and hear it too.

"Never thought you were that heavy, Matthew, let's shift, I want to have a look too."

As quietly as possible, they swapped positions, Bob getting onto his friend's shoulders. They could have moved the desk to stand on it, but it looked heavy and they feared they could have made too much noise. If they could listen to what was being said on the other side of the wall, it was logical that they could also be heard.

"Do you actually think there's a chance I might go with you?" inquired Matthew, "and Chad too."

It was the talk of the school, that day: an expedition was being prepared, and boys would go and fight the ferals, an exciting prospect for most of them. It was a given fact that Bob would be part of the operation; he had a gift with weapons and was the best marksman in the school. He had already been going on missions with Miss Simons at every occasion, one more reason for Matthew to feel jealous. He felt the ties that had joined them so strongly at first start to wither and he hated that. He knew what was going on between Bob, Walt, and Chad and had some difficulty accepting it. Bob had asked him several times to join them, but he could not do it. As he had told Anthony, if he did it with anyone, it would be with Miles and no one else.

He was not sure of what he wanted to do with the man, the whole idea of sex was still quite alien to him, but that was how he wanted it to be, it was his decision. He could not be angry with Walt for loving Bob or with Louise, but he missed his friend and felt somewhat resentful, a feeling he tried to fight with more or less success.

"I would say they'll mostly take seniors, but who knows, we're Dunn's Warriors, the best trained and most effective in the whole school that could help."

"Someone coming," interrupted Chad from the door left ajar, "It's the headmaster and Greg too."

Bob urged Matthew to take him to the vent giving him a gentle kick with his feet; he did not want to miss one word of what they would say. "Hurry up!"

"Hey, I'm not a horse," said Matthew, pinching his rider's thigh.

"That's for sure; I never saw a horse do that."

"You're quite heavy too. Don't know how long I'll be able to stand under you."

"If necessary, Chad can swap with you, just tell me before you need to let go."

As soon as he was in position in front of the vent, Bob put his hear to it, listening.

"Come in and take a seat," he heard Miles Dunn say, "Are we going forward?"

"Yes, of course, did you doubt it?" replied Carl Fisher.

"No, I knew you were for it and let's be blunt about it, we all know that the committee is your thing and votes the way you want."

"That's true, except for the two of you."

"All we have to discuss now is who do we choose to make the diversion."

"Yes, it's clear that for everything else, we will have to trust you and your military experience."

"I still welcome input from anyone with good ideas. Are Greg and Max still part of it?"

"They want to go against my will, but I need you to give me some valid guarantees you won't send them to their death."

"You seriously think I could do that?"

"Honestly, no, but it's against my nature to take chances."

"What would be acceptable for you then?"

"That you add some of your most precious boys to the group."

Louise was quick to interrupt, "Why not me? I would be a much better guarantee for you."

"I fear you'll be needed elsewhere. There's not that many that can lead the other group," replied Carl.

"He's right, Louise, but thank you for trying. Names?"

"I have a shortlist; Walt, Sven, Matthew, and Brett, whom it seems you've taken a liking to and added to your little harem. He indeed looks delicious."

"I'll need him to operate the drones. Matthew, I'm responsible for him, I promised his father, and Walt will be needed at the parking lot too."

"That leaves only Sven, but I'm not sure it's enough."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you, for me, boys come and go: if I lose one, I can find ten others. You're not quite like me, but one could think that Sven can be easily replaced."

"How can you say that?" said Miles, raising his tone.

"All I am saying is that it is not enough. Come to think of it, it's Matthew I want in those vehicles, he's faced the ferals already if I recall. You trained him well. You said you would bring back all of our boys anyway, what's the big deal?"

"In such circumstances, there's no certainty. What about Anthony."

"He was my gift to you upon your arrival, and I'm unsure how you consider him because of that. No, it has to be Matthew, he's been with you from the start; you feel a debt toward his father; and with him, I know you'll do your best."

"I'll watch over them, don't worry," said Greg, surprising everyone, "it's in everyone's interest," he added as if to justify himself.

"I thank you for saying that, Greg. All this negotiation is somewhat absurd for me but probably necessary. I have a few secrets myself I'll need to reveal."

"At last," said Carl immediately, his eyes sparkling, "It's about Perry's files, I suppose, I would gladly give you back Matthew in exchange for those."

"Perry's files? … What! No! You got them already; it's nothing like that. To cut to the chase, the good news is that we retrieved a Browning M2, 50-caliber machine gun some time ago. We'll mount it to the Humvee to help get the job done as well as ensure their safe return."

"Where, when did you get it? Where is it?"

"We found it at the food depot, on the same Humvee. It's safe at Bear House. I did not want such a weapon to be available to anyone, given the tension of the last few days. It would have been put to use only if the ferals attacked."

"You're more devious than you seem, Mister Dunn." You could feel Carl's temper sizzling.

Miles, with an elevated voice, responded sternly, "I'm trying to do what I think is right in the interest of the school and the boys."

"That's what do-gooders always say in such situations when, in fact, they only serve their own interests."

"Think whatever you want, Carl. For now, it will give the diversion group added firepower and a clear advantage. It also makes a lot of noise – exactly what is needed. I'll have to get Greg and a few others familiar with its operation."

In the adjoining office, Bob was listening to every word spoken.

"So what are they talking about," asked Matthew.

"I think they were arguing about you and some kind of machine gun."

"Me? Why me?"

"I think you'll see your wish come true. You're on the list. Fisher's demanding it."

"Fisher? Fisher! Are you sure?"

"Walt's coming this way," said Chad, alarmed.

In the corridor, on his way to Dunn's office, the senior had seen a boy's head disappear and the half-opened door close.

He barged in, surprised to see who the culprits were.

"What are you doing here?"

Bob jumped from Matthew's shoulders and the three boys tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, nonetheless, the unhooked framed picture and the open vent gave them away.

"Doing some spying, I see. Who's responsible?" Walt's tone wasn't too severe, and he kept his voice low to avoid being overheard on the other side of the wall.

"It was my idea," said Matthew, taking a step forward.

"I discovered the vent," added Bob, wanting to share the blame.

"I took the picture down," said Chad, with a disarming smile.

"Will you punish us?" asked Matthew, not too worried.

"What a trio of rascals you are, you're lucky it wasn't Omar that found you. I might get some retaliation in bed later this evening, too bad you'll be out of it, Matthew. Now, what did you learn? What did they say?"

***

Matthew had stayed behind after Chad and Bob left, he wanted to talk with Dunn, his excitement was mounting. He could not believe he was going to fight the ferals with the others. He was pacing up and down the corridor, expecting at any minute that the man would come out of his office. He was still in there with Louise, Greg, and Fisher. Walt had joined them a good fifteen minutes ago.

For Matthew, being alone was all too familiar lately, mostly his own doing, but it could soon change. As he paced, he could not stop thinking about what Bob had told him. Was it true? Would it be confirmed by Dunn? Perhaps he could show the man that he was not a little boy anymore. He wanted to be treated no differently than anyone else by the marine, able to decide what was right or wrong for himself, particularly regarding sex. If Bob had a companion, he wanted one too, and he wanted none other than Dunn.

The marine was not unresponsive to him: he had felt his erection each time he sat on his lap. Miles was not good at hiding it. It was big, hard, and full of mystery. You could not miss it and it fascinated him. He also felt flattered to know he had caused it. In truth, he had not made up his mind about sex. Bob enjoyed it a lot and it had obsessed him for quite some time before he got it on with Walt. Always talking about it, wanting to visit the barn, where it started, and showing him stuff on his laptop. It seemed so long ago.

For himself, at the time, he considered sex to be something for the grownups, something forbidden, perhaps somewhat exciting, but that did not concern him. He was not quite sure yet if it had changed, he would only know that when he tried it, with Dunn.

A strange thought came to him at that moment. Perhaps he had chosen Dunn because he knew that nothing would happen with him, that it was a way to avoid being confronted with the real thing. He had no time to ponder it further. A hand had fallen on his shoulder.

"Young Mister Perry, what a nice surprise."

It was Carl Fisher. Matthew, lost in his thoughts, had turned his back on the door, and not heard Fisher open the door or approach him.

"Sir," he did not know what to say and in front of the large and ominous man, he felt like a little boy again. He was now staring at the door, hoping for it to open again to see Dunn, Walt, or Miss Simons appear so that he would not be left alone with the headmaster.

"You're even prettier than I recall. I think you might have grown an inch or two since I first saw you. Boys grow so fast; it's a pity. What are you doing here?" Carl's hand had left his shoulder and was now caressing the child's head, playing with his locks.

"I'm waiting for Mister Dunn." Matthew hoped that the name would keep the headmaster at bay. The marine, his would-be savior, was only a few feet away behind that door, "and Miss Simons."

"I'm afraid they won't be out right away, they're very busy, you know, so many details to review." Carl's hand left the boy's hair, cupping his chin, his thumb coursing over Matthew's lower lip, his gaze plunging into the child's as if to hypnotize him.

"I think I gotta go," said Matthew, without conviction.

"What's the hurry, perhaps you can wait for them in my office, just the two of us. You don't know it yet, but thanks to me, you'll join the big boys in the expedition against the ferals. Would you like to show me a little gratitude? Your mouth seems very welcoming and who knows we could go further…" His thumb had passed through Matthew's lips, gently massaging the boy's cheek from the inside, playing with his tongue. "This would be between you and me, only, no need to tell anyone else," he whispered into Matthew's ear.

Matthew was at his mercy, paralyzed by fear, unable to escape his hold, and Carl knew it. He was determined but still hesitated. Was it worth it? Was it worth risking open conflict with Dunn over the boy? The man had already swallowed quite a few bitter pills these last weeks; perhaps it was better to leave it at that. They were on the eve of a big gamble that Dunn was meticulously preparing just on the other side of the door.

"Leave him alone!"

Carl pulled his thumb out from Matthew's mouth as he turned around.

"Who said that!"

"Me." Bob had returned to fetch Matthew to play football, but it wasn't the only reason; he wanted to show him he was still his best friend and was willing to wait with him for Dunn, however long it took. He knew the boy felt neglected and lonely since his fling with Walt and tried his best to compensate for it, knowing it was never enough. "Come, Matthew, leave him alone."

"Still the adversarial pest I remember from our last meeting, young man."

Matthew finally reacted and skirted the headmaster to join Bob on the other side. As he passed Carl, the man grabbed him.

"Did I tell you I was done with you? boy." One arm was holding Matthew around the neck, and with the other arm, he had his hand in the boy's crotch, getting a good feel of what was hidden there, while pushing the boy's butt against his own erection. He forced a kiss on the child's lips for good measure before letting him go.

"Soon," he said in his ear, and then to Bob, "I just wanted an appetizer, here, take him, he's worth the effort, but I'll wait, the timing is wrong. We'll see how our next meeting goes, little pest. I've broken much stronger lads than you – what a pleasure it will be."

Without another word, Carl was gone.

***

Greg loved the feeling of power, the noise, the strong shaking he felt in his arms, the looks of all those around him. The Browning had been mounted on the Humvee and he had been the first to be shown its workings and allowed to try it. He determined not to let anyone else touch it when the action started and was impatient to see the devastation it would produce among the ferals. Three more days to wait seemed like an eternity.

He now acknowledged that his attitude towards Dunn had undergone a change in the last weeks. He appreciated the man more and more, yet he was the complete opposite of his mentor. With Carl, you were never too sure of what was going on in his head; he always had the knack of making you do what he wanted. Even Greg, who knew him better than anyone else, was not immune to this. He admired the man for what he had achieved, and for what he had given him, beyond his high social status. The fact that they had been lovers and the strong influence he had exerted in his early years at Saint Xavier was an important factor in the person he had become.

Why was he starting to question all that, and where did he stand in the conflict between the marine and Carl? For the first time in his life, he wondered if he had made the right choices, he was discovering indecision, an alien notion. His attraction for the dark side, as Shirley called it, was waning, and he sometimes wondered how it could have had such an influence on him.

The flu and all its consequences should have freed him of all moral restraint. One would have expected him to embrace it fully, but in the end, it had not been so. Had it been his meeting Dunn? In part, perhaps, he was the kind of guy who always wanted to do the right thing. Funny, when you thought about it, he was a pedophile, the perfect bad guy. Could it be that he behaved that way to compensate for that terrible flaw? Admittedly, Dunn was a far cry from the people Greg was used to dealing with. Coming from the army meant he was probably from a lower-class family too, both of which he had held in disdain.

What he was sure of was that he had noticed the first changes after his encounter with William, the kid he had kidnapped to discover what it was like to kill, just for kicks. This was to be his great achievement, meant to show that he was afraid of nothing. He had not expected to get cold feet. It seemed logical at the time to think that sparing the little kid had been the cause of his malaise, but he now thought differently. On the contrary, it was being face to face with the reality of this project, what it took to take a life.

He had been mistaken: shooting Rufus Aims in the Gymnasium had been something else, entirely; he had turned feral and was not fully human anymore. At that time, he had thought that killing could be fun. He had been the hero of the day.

Doing it in that cabin with an innocent kid, who had no idea of what would befall him was something else entirely. Perhaps he had a conscience after all, but was it a good thing? What was it that made Dunn so special to him? That guy certainly had a conscience, and he had seen how it impaired him in his tug of war with Carl. Without it, everything would have been over already and to his advantage. What a waste!

Not everything had changed. Greg knew he would always be attracted to the infliction of pain, play those games on those who would let him do it, such as Milo. He could probably go further than that, like at the Alcomb farm, but he had found his limits. He did not need to go that far to show his strength or get satisfaction and pleasure. When Tools had ordered them to remove the plastic bag from the boy's head, he felt relief, as he had not known how to stop Harvey and yet maintain his superior status. As much as he wished for it, he could not be the one pulling back; he could not show any weakness; he was their fearless leader.

"Watch it, Greg, a few rounds at a time and you will want to aim at their chests, keep it low and watch out for the recoil," said Miles, appreciative of the demonstration. "You're doing fine; we don't want to waste ammunition, it is precious. Who's next? Lewis?"

Greg left his position with regret.

"Have fun," he forced himself to tell his friend.

Four of the boys accompanying Greg had a go at it after learning how to reload the weapon.

"Don't get your fingers burned. It can be hot as hell once you've fired for some time. Don't touch the barrel.

They had gone some distance from the school, further than the usual firing range. It did not prevent a small crowd of awestruck curious boys from assembling close by. Ever mindful of safety, Miles warned them to keep their distance.

After more than an hour of having Greg, his friends, and Max, practice using the weapon, he was finally satisfied.

"I think you're ready, guys. Max, I'll see you tomorrow to discuss what access road to use to get in position and how you should engage the enemy. Take command of your group from now on, organize it the way you want, decide who goes in the Humvee or the truck. I think Greg wants the Browning, and I see no reason not to let him have it as long as others beside him can replace him, just in case.

"I'll work on that right away," replied Max.

Meanwhile, Louise was checking that the boys claiming to be able to drive were up to the task. They needed at least thirty good drivers to be on the safe side. They would operate under stress, which made it a necessity.

Preparations would take one more day at least at the school, Louise and Max would be in charge. Miles had one more important mission to complete before anything could be set in motion. Brett was waiting for him with Stuart and the whole tech team, as well as Walt, Sven, the twins, and William who would escort them to the house that was to become the forward command post for the operation. They left as soon as he could join them.

***

Roy Neary, leader of the Ravagers, was facing a dilemma. For quite some time now, there had been no new victims of the flu. That meant death was no longer a certainty and cast doubt on their aimless wanderings of the past few weeks. Some were quite satisfied with this way of life, but many foresaw problems. Things had changed; they were meeting far more resistance, other groups, even kids were now organized. Most were armed and ready to use their weapons. There were no more lambs ripe for slaughter. Ferals were regrouping, forming large hordes, and showing some cunning. They were now a serious danger, even for the Ravagers. You could no longer barge into a city to kill and plunder like before.

The Ravagers would have to adapt, perhaps settle somewhere. A secure base from where they could continue raiding the communities all around. Whatever they decided, they needed weapons and, most of all, ammunition. Since their fight at Turner, where Roy had found his new pretty boy, Devon, they had not been able to replenish their stock. Gun shops had been pillaged, as were the few Army and National Guard centers they had found. They had to do with scraps left by those that had come before. They were in a position of weakness with no other choice than to avoid any major confrontation.

"Red, bring me those old paper maps you found."

"D'you think they're any use? They ain't helped so far."

"They show plenty of supposed military bases and National Guard spots; sooner or later, we'll get lucky and find one that hasn't been looted. The alternative would be to go to Charleston and the National Guard Armory there. Big cities mean more people and more ferals, and we don't have the means to face any real opposition right now.

"The men want action; they grow restless."

"We got no choice; we're too low on ammo – 'less they don't care if our next fight is the last."

"They could have gone for it at an earlier time, but you're right, not anymore."

Having studied the maps for a moment, Neary circled two locations with a marker.

"We'll hit those two next; they're close enough and away from the larger towns. You struck lucky when you found those maps; I'm sure it's gonna pay off soon. We'll leave in the morning. How many captives did we get yesterday?"

"Only six, there were four more that got killed when we took the house."

"Then let's party tonight and have some games to entertain the men."

"That'll sure please 'em; we haven't had much fun lately. Think I'll do a special roast too; see if it has more success than the last one."

"I'm not sure it's a great idea, you should keep it to yourself."

"You tasted it, it's meat, like any other. I don't see why you make such a fuss about it. I saved one of the bodies from yesterday and gutted it; it's ready to cook, there's three others interested. It's a little one, should be juicy and tender. Aren't you tempted? Are you not fed up with that canned food?

"I'm not against some beef. I'm sure we'll come across a few cows tomorrow, no need to go to such extremes."

"Who cares, dead meat is dead meat. You're gettin' too soft. I've seen it with your new boy. You're way too gentle with him. At the beginning, you'd have given me his little brother to do with as I pleased, without a second thought."

"Maybe, but times are changing; we might survive this flu in the end; that makes a big difference."

"One more reason to enjoy life the way we want. There ain't any laws or rules no more. We can do what we've always wanted to do."

"Yeah, but I've never dreamed of eating kids before, that's not my thing, but you can do it if it pleases you. I got nothing against it."

"Glad to hear you say that. I'll go see what I can come up with for this evening's entertainment."

Roy watched him leave the trailer, which was kind of his office and sleeping quarters when on the road. They had stopped at an isolated and deserted Courtyard hotel; his pretties were waiting for him in the room he had chosen for himself. It would be nice to sleep in a real bed tonight. The kids had wanted to use the pool, it was still terribly hot and dry, but he had forbidden it. The water wasn't too clean; it had a strange color; they had only been allowed to wet their feet and legs. Too bad, he would have liked the view of their naked bodies playing in the water. They would have to be happy with a shower; there was still running water in the hotel – he had checked. Those images awakened his desire. There was nothing much else to do than to enjoy their company. At least till the next evening's entertainment.

Red and those like him from the loony bin were one of the other challenges that he would have to meet. There was no way he could reason with them. Their unpredictable, nihilistic behavior was creating dissension among the men. Red's cannibalism was only a small part of it and not a problem until now. Life and death made no difference for the Ravagers; no one cared about the way they treated their captives or what they did to them. They all expected to die soon, or so they thought, but not anymore. Most expected to live, and many of the attitudes and behaviors, which had been taken for granted, were now being questioned. Fortunately, there were not that many left from that group. Those with Red's intelligence were rare, and despite his demons and obsessions, he had made himself essential to the workings of the pack. He had thought of searching for those precious maps and found them. Neary hoped he would be able to keep him on his side.

As he made his way from the parking lot, he checked that the lookouts were at their post. He then went through the pool area where many of the Ravagers were lounging and taking the sun as vacationers would do with their boy or more rarely girl beside them, and as expected, some of the kids were being put to good use.

What would become of them? Wondered Roy. What future could he carve-out for the Ravagers? Everything was becoming more difficult: food, fuel, ammo were becoming scarce. They had to change their way of life, that was a necessity, but for now, a round of sex with his pretties was in order. He would gladly plow little Devon's ass for a good hour, that boy was a great find and did everything Roy wanted as long as his brother was safe. Red would never get him.

***

They parked the vehicles and set up camp in the same house that Louise and the boys had occupied. It was far enough away to be safe while leaving the mall and its surroundings within range of the drones, a range that Stuart, assisted by Wilson and Sun, had fortunately been able to enhance.

Miles needed to check all routes to and from their destination for both the main group, heading for the parking lot, and the diversionary group. They needed to be free of obstacles likely to impede the vehicles or any obvious direct threat from the ferals, at least as far as that could be ascertained. He also took pains to find and check alternate routes for both groups. It was quite tedious work, but necessary. Preparation, as he had learned, was the key to success in such operations.

Everything was set up to follow each group as they were moving in and out – two laptops for each group and four drones. Miles did not want to be short on a replacement in case of a technical problem with any of them. They tested everything until he was satisfied. He would watch the laptop images and communicate with the groups over the radios while Brett and Stuart operated the drones.

Miles was thorough, and nothing mattered but the success of the operation. He was gentle but strict with the boys; he made it clear that there was no place for mistakes.

After three hours of hard work, Miles was more or less satisfied, but you could feel the stress he was under. On paper, everything looked good, but he was working with young boys and was not sure how they would react if something went wrong. He felt angst over the thought of losing anyone: all those boys were precious to him.

After a light dinner, they started the last task of the day and as night fell, the drones took to the sky once again, following the roads that would be used for the operation. Miles wanted to see if the heat detectors would reveal bands of ferals they may have missed earlier during the day and which may pose a threat to the operation. They would check again on the day of the attack, just before dawn.

Particular attention was given to the parking lot, which was their primary objective. Miles looked at the computer screen with some apprehension. It had been assumed that there were few, if any ferals there. If they were wrong, it meant that the boys charged with retrieving those trucks would have a fight on their hands. Even a successful diversion might leave a few ferals still in the vicinity, making the risks higher and loss of life more likely.

"We're getting there," said Brett, in a hushed tone. He had felt Miles' state of mind, "so far, so good."

The drone was now flying over the designated area. Only a few white dots could be seen.

"Seems to be mostly clear of them like we expected," said Walt, relieved.

"How reliable are those detectors?" asked Miles, still concentrating on the images.

"They're not the best, but they're quite good," answered Brett.

"Could ferals be hiding or sleeping in those trucks?" asked Stuart.

"Unlikely, if they were there, we would see something, it's only canvas, not wood or stone, like with buildings," answered Brett.

"Okay, that's enough, you can bring it back," said Miles, "Let's return to Saint Xavier, we will come back with everybody tomorrow evening to be in position and do a second check."

One hour later, they left the house.

***

Doctor Lance Walford, or "Doc" as he was now called by most, was watching his son Jeffy play with other kids in the small courtyard behind their home. The boy, at nine years old, was oblivious of all other concerns at that moment. Not so, for his father, recent events were troubling him.

First, the few communities they were in contact with had abruptly ceased to broadcast. One of the guys here in Okatie was a radio ham and had been able to exchange information with a few others in the country. It had been a great source of data as well as a morale booster, just knowing that there were survivors like them all around, doing their best to face the situation, and trying to keep some sort of order in all the chaos made a big difference. It meant the hope of a new start.

Then Melanie Hollis showed up with all those from the Murgrave community that had been able to escape the feral attack. They had known each other and been in contact during the previous weeks, often talking of working together. Since the outbreak of the flu, Melanie, and Paula (the Doc's wife), had embraced a mission. Melanie's goal was to save as many girls as she could, 'their future' she called them. Paula's goal was to save the little ones. Both women were kindred spirits, rapidly becoming fast friends once they had met.

It was a shock to hear Melanie tell her story and it did not take much to grasp what it meant. He had watched The Walking Dead series most weeks, never imagining he would have to face it in real life; he knew what a horde could look like, except, in this case, the ferals were not dead. No, they were alive and kicking, quick too, able to use simple weapons and were no longer that stupid. If they constituted an army of a few hundred or perhaps even a few thousand, none of the communities he had the knowledge of, would be able to survive an attack. Was that the fate of those that had become silent? Was it happening all over the country?

Finally, only this morning, the south wall had reported a strange incident. Two armored vehicles had been seen coming within a few hundred yards of it, clearly observing their defenses and then retreating without trying to make any contact. These were clearly not a regular military unit: those had all been disbanded. It was one more cause of worry, experience had taught him that some humans were often little better than ferals once you took away the veneer of an organized society. Ferals were not the only danger they had to face.

He was glad to see that among those playing with his son was young Sasha, who was beginning to show improvement. For the first few days, he had been withdrawn, not wanting to leave Vicky's side. Both had been through difficult times. The girl was feeling better too, she had been raped repeatedly, but she had not sustained any lasting physical injury; it was her mind that needed to mend; her care of the little ones helped that healing process. There was an awkward moment when she was reunited with Melanie and others from the Murgrave community. She was recognized immediately and asked to tell her story, but could not tell it all, and it was better that way. It had to be done slowly at the right time and with the right people. It was good that she never blamed Sasha for what happened to her, seeing him as a fellow victim, one who had done his utmost to try to save her. Many here had similar stories. Almost all were sad and laced with violence.

Since the vast majority of the survivors were children, it often meant losing their parents in a brutal manner. Few, like Jeffy, still had a parent alive. The children had not been given any choice; they had to grow up fast. The few adults left inherited a world full of orphans and the Doc now had a good fifteen children he was responsible for who saw him as their new parent. It was the same for most of the adults here at Okatie, they were fortunate to have a much better ratio of them and older teens than in most places, to his knowledge. It was still an overwhelming responsibility and a full-time job.

They had been lucky from the start, thanks to Major Trenton.

He was a great help to his wife who had worked hand-in-hand with the military in her quest to save as many of the little ones as possible – far from a priority for the military. The man had quickly understood the catastrophic consequences of the flu for the whole country. Reasoning that it was better to concentrate on saving one town than to spread his efforts too thinly and save none. He took steps to ensure the future of Okatie, with stocks of food, medicine, weapons, and other necessities diverted to the town. Barricades and fortifications were built to protect them from intrusion and outside threats. Rules were put in place for the sick who were given the choice either to leave town or to stay and be put to sleep, (a euphemism for euthanasia), when they were too far-gone.

It had not been easy, but in the end, he convinced the Doc that it was the most reasonable thing to do. His foresight had saved many lives and had prevented Okatie from plunging into the sort of chaos seen in surrounding towns. Major Trenton even applied that rule to himself when he showed the first symptoms and left them, not long after. He was a real hero for the town.

After he was gone, the Doc was soon looked upon as the new leader of the diminishing community and followed in Major Trenton's footsteps, even if this did not suit his previously reserved character.

In the beginning, his clinic was overwhelmed with the sick. With few nurses to help, he plunged headfirst into his work, as a way to cut himself off from the reality going on around them, but reality intruded as more of the sick turned feral and showed no signs of dying. Paula had been a major influence and helped him accept what Major Trenton had decided, even if it was contrary to his Hippocratic Oath.

She later persuaded him to take on the leadership role vacated by Major Trenton. When she fell sick, she simply left them a note one morning to say that she loved them and wanted to spare them the pain of seeing her become someone else. She had gone to die, alone, away from him and her son. Lance wondered if he would have had her courage, had he been the one to get the flu.

It was now an irrelevant question. He was the only one left to take care of Jeffy. For over a week now, they had seen no new cases of the flu. Thank God.

And now, just when he thought they would have some respite, new problems arose. There had been about five hundred people at Okatie with one hundred more now that Melanie's group had joined them, would it be enough to face off a feral attack, or any other threat? They needed to learn to fight and defend themselves and their community, but he feared he lacked the skills necessary to lead them to achieve that. They had a lot to learn and many obstacles to overcome.

"Dad, will you come to play with us?" asked Jeffy, taking him out of his brooding state with a smile.

"Why not? Give me that ball," he said fondly, caressing the boy's cheek, wanting to share some of the children's lightheartedness, if only for a moment.

***

Burt Algood was in fucking heaven, pun intended, and without a care in the world, apart from some tension with Bradley. He could live in luxury with enough food to last months and with his own little harem of willing boys, in fact, more than willing in the case of Esteban and Ethan, the little horny devils. He might even try Margarita again from time to time for diversity. What more could he ask?

He was lounging by the pool, a dry gin in one hand, Esteban in his lap, after another bout of hot sex. The boys had done their best to clean the water, removing most of the debris that had fallen in. The water was a bit tepid, but with the heat, it would be a refreshing experience. Together, they would wash their shared sweat as soon as he finished his drink, that is. He was already eyeing Ethan and the other boys playing on the lawn, trying to decide who would be next. Heaven could not be better.

No neighbors and no ferals in sight; he could live the way he wanted, with his obsession for sex fully satisfied. That was the best therapy he had heard.

Mere thanks to Sergeant O'Malley would never be enough, and he felt a little pang of sadness when the man left. He tried to hold him back, as did the kids, but without success. To be honest, it was probably best that way, because Burt would never have dared to have sex with Esteban quite so openly and in plain sight with Sergeant O'Malley around.

He knew Ethan planned to go exploring again and rescue more "strays" as he called them. It was bothersome, but it was the least they could do. He had sworn to O'Malley that all those in need would be welcome here. That's why he had decided to visit the few villas surrounding this one: they were sure to offer just as much luxury and might even have a hidden food reserve. The new strays, particularly the adults, could settle in one of them; that way, he could preserve his privacy, and what he did with his boys could remain secret.

Damn, complications were back! He could hope for a few days of respite, though, as Ethan did not seem to be in a great hurry to go exploring yet. Too many things held him here, and he hoped he was one of them; the lavish mansion, which also needed to be explored, was certainly another. All those worries could wait; he had to calm down and enjoy the moment.

Looking at the lawn, he saw large areas of brown grass scorched by the sun. Blue skies had reigned for weeks, if not months, without a drop of water. Global warming? That debate had lost its relevance; greenhouse gas emissions must have dropped dramatically, at the same rate as the population he would guess.

His attention turned to Esteban: naked and sleeping, with his head comfortably nestled on his shoulder. His delicate, voluptuous body abandoned, with its soft skin, the firm flesh of his pert buttocks, his taut belly, and cute pecker, all freely offered to the touch of the man's hands who did not tire of them. Soon it would be too hot to stay outside in the sun, and after the refreshing effect of the pool, he would seek the shade and coolness of the garden with one or two boys to keep him company and satisfy his needs.

Yes, it was becoming awfully hot here. He swallowed the last of the gin, put down the glass, and gently lifted the boy to his lap as he stood up, careful not to wake the child. He was about to lay the boy in the vacated lounge chair when he had a moment of hesitation, and then with a smile, he kissed the child's brow and went to the poolside.

"One, two, three," he said, as he plunged into the water with Esteban still in his arms.

The boy awoke in a panic but was immediately aware of the prank he had been subjected to and ready to retaliate. Ethan and Raoul, who had seen it coming, rushed to his rescue, hastily discarding tee shirts and shorts before jumping into the pool, soon followed by the other boys. The battle would begin, to the delight of all. Burt, though outnumbered, firmly intended to hold his ground and thrive on all this exposed naked young flesh, grabbing them one after the other to throw them away in the water amid squeals of pleasure.

The innocent game lasted for fifteen minutes before it turned into a more serious affair. It was clear that almost all the boys by that time sported erections. They were quite visible when Burt or Bradley, who had joined the fray, almost as big and strong as the man, raised them out of the water. It was now a melee with no holds barred and every man for himself. The nature of the fight had changed. There were still efforts to have an opponent go under, games of splashing water all around. Still, there were also boys rubbing their bodies against each other and the man, swimming between the legs and grabbing at standing erections, games of seduction and desire.

On hearing the noise, Margarita emerged onto the second-floor balcony to see what the ruckus was all about; she had been keeping little Kate company, playing with her new dolls and other toys found in one of the bedrooms.

"Boys!" she said, with scorn at the spectacle.

As she raised her head, about to go back to the little girl, she saw what she thought to be smoke on the horizon, a lot of it. It had to be because it was far away. She squinted her eyes to try to get a better look, but she soon lost interest and dismissed it.

Burt, in the pool, had had enough or rather was excited enough to want more. As Raoul came close, he caught him, and instead of throwing him away, this time, held him tight.

"Pretty one, I think you'll be my snack before lunch," he kissed him on the mouth and the boy did not pull away, on the contrary, welcoming the man's tongue, sending his arms around his neck and his legs around his hips. Burt walked out of the pool, avoiding the other kids, going to the shallow end and the steps there; he was soon out of the water, holding his prize as much as he was held by it. A ground floor bedroom with its comfortable bed beckoned, it was only a few paces away with its French doors opening onto the pool.

Once there, and without further ado, he threw the still soaking wet boy on the king-size bed and plunged after him. They did not care if the sheets were drenched, they would dry soon enough. Burt had pinned the boy under him, observing him all over, and wondering how to proceed.

Raoul wasn't too keen on anal sex yet, but he did not mind sucking, they could start there. The man moved up the child's body and presented his hard pole before his face. He released the boy's hands, which immediately seized it and brought it to his lips, kissing the glans.

"You'll tell me when you're about to come," he said as if it was the most natural demand.

"Yes, I will. Come on, suck on it as I taught you," he told the boy, as he caressed Raoul's silky curls and watched his cock disappear between his luscious ruby lips, "Good boy."

This was to be only the first step; he definitely had other plans for later.

Don't worry, little one; it's not where I want to deliver my load today. It is time you started to enjoy a good fuck. It will need some stretching and I'll spend as long as needed to get fully in. We can skip lunch if necessary; you'll just love it this time.

His previous successes made him confident he would reach this goal without any fuss. His pangs of guilt at what he had been doing for weeks now were mostly gone. Helped by the gin, what he planned for Raoul that day was nothing out of the ordinary. After all, these boys had shown they liked it as much as he did.

Outside in the pool, the mood was the same, Ethan was kissing Esteban, and Bradley was pumping fast up Joe's tight chute. Only Ricky and Robbie kept on playing in the water like children of their age, indifferent.

***

It was five-thirty in the morning; the sun had not yet risen, and stars were still visible in the cloudless sky. Everything was in place.

Miles had given the order; there was no going back: the operation had started.

He was sitting outside the house with Brett and Stuart, who had their laptops controlling the drones set on tables. There were also two large monitors arranged so that Miles could follow the action. A small portable generator hummed in the background providing the power they needed. Access roads had been checked once more, the car park inspected for any change or unusual feral activity: all was fine.

The drones had been brought back and replaced with new ones with full batteries. Now they were following the progress of the two groups. Brett was following the diversion unit composed of two vehicles, the Humvee with its mounted Browning M2 50-caliber machine gun, driven by Max, and the truck with eight well-armed boys driven by Frank Collier. Matthew was with Max, Greg, and Lewis in the Humvee. Stuart, for his part, was following the hybrid cars transporting Louise, Tools, Walt, Arthur and the boys in charge of taking the parking lot and securing as many trucks and armored vehicles as possible among those that had been assigned to them. Quite a few of Dunn's warriors were among them, notably Sven, who had not wanted to stay back with Miles and seen to be kept away from danger when many of his friends were on the front line. Fisher had judged that Matthew was an adequate guarantee and had let them go.

Miles had not had one minute to himself the past twenty-four hours. Fortunately, he had slept like a log the past two nights, cuddling with Sven, Brett, Anthony, and Matthew. He wanted them close to him, first at Saint Xavier and now this night in the house that served as a command center for the upcoming operation. Everybody had left the school in the late afternoon to be close to the objective and rested, although many had had a fitful sleep under the stars or in the vehicles.

Shirley was in the house, still sleeping as far as he knew. He wanted her present to take charge and be ready to treat any injured boy without having to wait to return to Saint Xavier. If all went as planned, they would not need her or Tanner Holt, who was there to help her. There were also five boys surrounding them to ensure their security.

"Max, you've reached your position, wait there until the second group is in place," said Miles.

"Roger," answered Max, stopping the Humvee.

Coordination was important: the diversion had to start at the right time, too early or too late would put the other group in jeopardy. The drones were a great asset to ensure everything went according to plan. In the darkness, the drone's night vision gave them an advantage in locating any isolated ferals on their way or close to their objectives, but Miles wanted to wait for the light of day before attacking. Sending the boys under cover of night might seem preferable, but panic and friendly fire was a concern. With close to fifty boys moving forward in a parking lot filled with vehicles all around them, their finger on the trigger, that was too much of a risk at night.

"We're in position, awaiting your orders," said Louise on the radio. They had decided to approach the car park on foot from the nearby forest. The only vehicle access passed too close to the mall, which would alert any remaining ferals to their presence and interfere with the operation.

So far so good, no incident, thought Miles, as he looked at the sky and then at the screens. The sun's rays were becoming stronger, it was getting close to six, and visibility was good. Louise's boys would progress with the sun at their back, a clear advantage and a handicap for whoever would be facing them.

"Hold on till Max has engaged the ferals. I'll tell you if we see some movement in the parking lot, there were a few white spots to your right."

"Shall I take care of them now?" she asked. Bob and five other sharpshooters were with her as the spearhead of her group. Bob had his crossbow and all their guns had silencers.

"No, wait for the diversion to take effect first. You might not need to fire at all. We're positioning the drone above the parking lot. I'll keep you informed."

"Good for me. We're ready."

Miles took a deep breath and then said, "Max, bring them to you. NOW!"

He watched on the display screen as the Humvee and truck sprung into action, gaining speed and going straight for the mall. The route had been carefully chosen with wide roads free of any obstacles, like abandoned vehicles, that could trap them. It was a daring plan, taking them close to the mall to bring their way as many ferals as possible, from all over. After the first round was fired, it would be a long anxious ten to fifteen minutes for them.

Max loved driving. He had honed his skill to perfection while never having the need to use it before.

They were passing several car dealerships and rapidly approaching the first buildings surrounding the mall when here and there ferals began to appear. The air filled with their strange cries as they gave chase. He wasn't too surprised: he had heard those cries before, during his excursions into town and knew it was the ferals sounding the alarm. As long as they kept moving, they were safe from being overwhelmed. He had to say that knowing that the drone was up there watching their back was reassuring, as was having that kid Matthew in the backseat. Dunn was quite fond of him, Carl said.

Ahead of them, a 'welcoming committee' was forming: Ferals were converging on them from everywhere. Not only that, whenever they passed a building built close to the road, small projectiles started raining on them, thrown from the windows, with larger items, tables, lamps, chairs, even small fridges, falling short. The route had been chosen with that risk in mind, yet, in a few spots, it was unavoidable. Greg, standing through the Humvee hatch and the boys in the truck bed were the most exposed, Dunn had been wise to equip them all with helmets and bulletproof vests. Ahead, he saw ferals trying to push overturned cars or bring all kinds of debris to form a barricade. Greg opened fire with the M2, targeting those first. The noise was deafening but also sweet to the ears and the effect devastating. He was following to the letter Dunn's instructions for precision with maximum effect, firing short bursts at a time to preserve ammo; they had a limited number of cans holding 50-caliber belts. Matthew and Lewis used their M16s out of the windows in semi-automatic mode. The boys in the truck soon imitated them: firing at the ferals coming from all sides and now starting to chase them from behind. The intent was to slow them down, hitting the ones in front, and watching those behind trip and scramble over the dead bodies.

"Reload," shouted Greg. It was Lewis's task to hand up another 35-pound can and soon the bursts from the M2 automatic machine gun resumed.

Max had to swerve right or left sometimes to avoid ferals or objects that were thrown at them, some hit the Humvee without damage. They were now within sight of the mall and he could not escape a moment of fright when he saw the number of ferals there with more pouring out of every structure and building ahead. It was a living mass of flesh with arms and legs sending its tentacles towards them. He slowed down instinctively but immediately regained his senses and veered right, sticking to the route they had decided upon. He had no idea how much time had passed and did not dare glance at his watch, concentrating on his driving. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. They were now moving parallel to the mass that was surging toward them; the sound of it was mixed with the incessant blasts from the firearms and the machine gun staccato.

He no longer tried to avoid the ferals in his path, it was useless and impossible, as they crashed against the windshield, or passed under the wheels. He felt the thuds of the bodies being hit or crushed by the Humvee. The large mass of ferals was coming closer, but it was not fast enough, and Max was able to reach their chosen exit road before they were overtaken. He accelerated again to gain some leeway before stopping at a turn to again face the mall. The truck moved past them, staying on the road, motors were left running, the ferals were about a hundred yards away and closing, he checked his watch, seven minutes had passed. Max grabbed his M16 and started firing like the others, carefully picking off the lead ferals one at a time.

Most ferals were coming from the mall but some were also attacking from the other side. Max was intent on not being stuck here but they had to do their job. The devastation among the ferals' ranks was formidable but they were fearless and their numbers endless. Greg used the M2 to target the large concentrations at the front line. Each burst created a momentary void among the surging mass as bodies fell, and then the void quickly closed with more ferals, as if it had never existed. Soon their position was at risk with a few ferals being able to reach the vehicles. Max gave the signal to move out, switched his M16 to full auto, and emptied the cartridge. They sped away, only to stop again another hundred yards from there, where they repeated the same process.

"Move out, move out." Max heard on his radio. Ferals were closing in on them from every direction. It was probably now or never.

Eighteen minutes, it had lasted eighteen minutes in all, he saw when he looked at his watch again as they were ordered to make the final retreat. His ears were ringing as they left the area, still hearing the staccato of the M2. He was sweating profusely, hands slipping on the steering wheel, slightly trembling from the exertion. It had been an experience like no other, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. They had done their job.

Matthew, in the backseat, started breathing normally again; he was feeling dizzy and only now realized that for quite some time, he had been holding his breath. He took a deep gulp of air for the first time as he reclined into the seat and put the safety on his lighter semi-automatic AR15. The barrel of the gun was hot; his head slipped downward to his feet, where he saw the six spent cartridge magazines on the floor.

"Keep your eyes open, boys. Let's avoid any surprises," said Max.

As soon as he had spoken, the radio came to life and he saw smoke coming from the truck in the rearview mirror.

***

Louise was watching the parking lot through her infrared riflescope, looking at the many vehicles parked there, helter-skelter. All around her, poised at the edge of the forest, nearly fifty boys were waiting for the order to move forward. They were the best of those she had trained with Dunn these last weeks, some she loved dearly, like Sven, William, the twins, Walt. She would be the first to leave the cover of the trees with Bob and four others, the most gifted, the sharpshooters.

They would be the spearhead armed with silencers and with the task of eliminating any remaining ferals. The others would follow in eleven groups of four, with Tools in the lead. Each group was in charge of capturing two vehicles. Every driver carried a jerrican to ensure the vehicle had enough fuel for the return trip. Once it was checked to be free of any feral presence and contained a substantial cargo, the switch just inside the driver's door would be rotated to run, turning on the glow plugs and allowing them to check the fuel level. If necessary, the truck would be refueled before the driver took his place behind the wheel. Each team knew which vehicles had been selected for them and in what order they would leave the parking lot.

Once all the drivers were behind the wheel, the escort would take a seat beside his driver. At her signal, they would start the vehicles and the convoy would form taking the preordained escape route under cover of the captured armored vehicles, which would be at the front and back of the convoy. It was quite simple on paper, but many things could go wrong: from the presence of ferals, a mechanical problem with one of the trucks, a mix up with one of the teams, panic among the ranks in case of an unexpected confrontation, friendly fire, a collision.

Louise thought that the worst scenario would be the presence of unstable explosives meddled with by the ferals in one of the trucks. She had imagined many other catastrophic outcomes and it would be another hour before she would be able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Before leaving the area, they would get back to the cars and escort them and their drivers back to Saint Xavier. They would leave nothing and no one behind. At least that was the plan.

"It's started," she said, as the first shootings were heard, "Get ready. Pass the word."

"Is there any movement?" asked Bob, beside her, arming his crossbow.

"Yes," she answered, her eye still looking through the riflescope. "The few ferals to our left are leaving, going in the direction of the mall; it seems the diversion is working; good news, Dunn, you listening? Can you confirm?"

"Yes, I confirm. I'm waiting a couple more minutes before giving you the go-ahead, just to be sure."

Louise looked left and right at the tense boys in the shadows ready to leap forward; she ended the review of the troops by focusing on Bob, exchanging a smile with him, trying to hide her anxiety.

"Perhaps we won't have to fire a single shot," she said, repeating the words as a mantra. "There's no harm in being lucky, for once," she was trying to reassure him and the boys within hearing distance.

They waited in silence.

"Go, go, go!" They heard on the radio and they left the cover of the forest; the spearhead unit spreading out and aiming their weapons ahead, looking for targets, but there were none.

Louise gave the signal, and the rest of the boys followed in silence, everybody hunched over, walking at a fast pace, they reached the parking lot in a few minutes that seemed to last an eternity.

They got to work right away with the trucks: turning the ignition switch to on, checking the cargo, filling fuel tanks, while the assigned escorts took up defensive positions to neutralize any threat. Louise and her little group secured the two closest, most prized catches, one M2 Bradley and one Humvee. The assigned drivers were refueling them before taking their place behind the wheel while the escort took position in the turret manning the machine gun there.

Louise, with Bob in tow, climbed on top of the Bradley to get a better view of their surroundings. At ground level, they had zero visibility and it was impossible for them to anticipate any reaction from the ferals or survey the progress of her troops. Of course, there was the drone up there in the sky but she also wanted to see it with her own eyes and not only rely on the voice on the radio.

There was a clamor coming from the mall and the incessant sound of firing along with the staccato of the machine gun. All of it was receding, as she guessed the diversion group was getting farther away and preparing its retreat.

Beyond the parking lot, she could see there were still a few ferals that had not joined the fray. Using her binoculars, she saw that many were not in great shape, limping or barely standing. The life of a feral was certainly not one to envy. There were others though, that seemed in much better shape, standing tall and looking her way, as sentinels would do.

All around her, everything was proceeding according to plan without any noticeable incident. A few bloated corpses were found in the truck cabins, in different states of decomposition, most wearing uniforms.

They were well into the second and last phase, each team taking possession of a second vehicle, one more Bradley and a Humvee among them as well as a tanker with a well-filled container if you believed the sound it made when a boy knocked on it with his rifle butt. A prized item when you considered the quantity of fuel consumed by the armored vehicles and notably the Bradleys.

In less than five minutes, they would be ready to head out of there.

She was raising her binoculars again; silence had replaced the clamor, with fighting sounds coming from beyond the mall, and then shots resonated perhaps thirty feet to her left.

"Contact, contact," shouted a boy before he started shooting again, joined by two others.

A few feral cries erupted in front of them from several directions, soon taken up by the sentinels closer to the mall.

"Dunn, what do you see?"

"Nothing much, only a few of them among the vehicles for now, a hundred yards away from you. There seems to be more movement near the mall; I think it's time to go. They'll be coming back for you.

"Give the signal," she shouted to the boy seated behind the wheel. He was called Henry and was probably one of their best drivers. She had seen him train with the others at Saint Xavier, he was good at handling the Humvee as well as the trucks, but driving what could be called a tank was still to be a challenge.

He gave three long honks, and soon the noise of motors starting was everywhere and the first trucks started to move. The last boys on the ground entered the closest vehicles. Louise climbed down and took the place of the boy in the turret; she wanted to keep having a good view of all the action around her. Bob had found a seat behind her. She prayed there would be no collision and that the column would form without incident. Walt and Arthur were in charge of organizing the convoy and guiding the drivers out of the parking lot.

"Louise, what do you see?" asked Bob.

"Nothing much, for now." She had her finger on the trigger, ready to open fire with the M60 machine gun.

There were no less than twenty vehicles leaving the parking lot, so far in good order. They had been wise to choose those closest to the exit road, the greatest danger of collision concerned the vehicles that had to do a reverse gear maneuver with others on the move around them.

"Dunn, what can you tell me?" she said into the radio.

"They're coming for you, a lot of them."

Up in the turret, she could see them now, like a wave between the mall and the parking lot, still quite a distance away but coming closer.

Shots erupted behind and she rotated the turret to see what was happening. The escorts were firing at a few isolated ferals who were running at the trucks in a futile attempt to stop them. Those were not a real threat and she saw that most of the vehicles were now on their way. It was time for them to leave this place too.

"Dunn, we are on our way. Henry…"

The boy honked twice this time, and the four captured armored vehicles started to move one at a time, with Walt and Arthur guiding them to the road before climbing in. The two Humvees accelerated and went past the trucks to be positioned at the head of the column, Louise stayed at the rear with the second Bradley. Fortunately, the diversion worked and the few ferals now coming for them were in bad shape and no match for their firepower. The convoy would be long gone before those running at them from the mall got there.

So far, it was a success.

***

Miles had been watching the screens helped by Brett and Stuart, who had shown a perfect understanding of their role in the monitoring of the operation. They had anticipated most of his demands in the handling of the drones' commands, having the cameras at the right place at the right time. The tension had eased a bit, and the two groups were now on their way back. There had been no casualties reported, and they had achieved their objectives.

"How much flight time left in the drones," he asked Brett.

"I would say five to ten minutes."

"Close, but that should be more or less enough for them to get back here. Be ready to send two more, though, just to be sure. You did a great job boys; I'm proud of you. As soon as they're back, we will pack and go to Saint Xavier. It all went smoothly, without a glitch." Miles felt the pressure start to go down at last.

Of course, it was at that moment that he was proved wrong.

"Look at that," said Brett, with a worried voice.

The boy had sent the drone ahead of the diversion group to see if the road was clear, as they had done on the way in.

"How many do you think there are?"

"Too many for them to go through safely," answered Miles, gauging the situation immediately. "Where did they come from? We checked everything at least twice!"

It was one of those wandering groups of ferals. Had they been called back to the hive because of the attack or were they just at the wrong place, at the wrong time, it was impossible to tell, but they blocked the escape route that had been chosen. An alternative one would have to be found. Now!

"Max, danger ahead, there's a large horde of ferals, you have to stop. I'll give you further instructions as soon as I have a solution."

"Dunn, that's bad news, we have a problem here too: seems like the truck's radiator has been hit by a projectile of some kind that's still sticking out of the grill, a kind of pole. It's smoking right now, and I don't know how long it will hold."

"One thing at a time, listen to me. You can go through the field on your right, and then you'll find a dirt road at the end of it, follow it. It will take you through a little wood and then to a regular road parallel to this one. You should not be delayed that much and avoid them. Go now before they see you. Collier, you heard what I said?"

"Yes, I'm listening," said the boy with an edge in his voice. "Take the lead, Max, I'll follow, but I feel we are losing traction, I won't be able to maintain any speed; the truck is sputtering and the temp gauge is climbing. You have to slow down. If the truck breaks down, what do we do?"

"You should all fit in the Humvee," said Miles. "One vehicle breakdown is always a possibility. I did not plan to leave anyone behind."

"Okay, I'll slow down and if we lose the truck we'll take them all in. There's room in the back now, with the ammo spent, Collier can jump in the front, with a boy on his lap, and we'll do the same in the two rear seats, and then pile the rest of the boys in the back or on the roof.

"If you guide me to them, I can come to help with the Bradley, just to be safe. We can't be that far and I don't need roads," said Louise, who had followed the conversation over the radio.

"Nice of you, Miss Simons," replied Collier.

"I sure can bring you to them," said Miles, thinking aloud, then he added to Collier and Max, "Even if the motor holds long enough to get you here, I would rather be safe than sorry. Let me have a look at the map."

As he was trying to work it out, Brett pulled his sleeve.

"The ferals have spotted them, look!"

On the laptop screen, the horde had changed direction and was now running in the general direction of the two vehicles, they were close, and it was probable they had seen them or the smoke.

"Motor's just blown," said Collier over the radio, "Max, wait for us."

Brett immediately had brought the drone away from the ferals and back to the truck and Humvee. There was black smoke pouring out, a good indication of a seized piston and cracked engine block: the vehicle overheated, the engine was damaged. Collier was descending from the cab, while the boys were jumping off the truck's bed and hurrying to enter the Humvee, jumping onto laps, and crawling into the back, two went on the roof behind Greg.

"Move, Max, don't stay there or you'll be overwhelmed, there's too many of them. I'm sending Louise; she can't be more than five minutes away."

There were no major obstacles for the Bradley, but the area was heavily wooded, and it would make it more difficult for him to guide her to them, to Matthew.

Chapter 27

Donny did not know how long he would survive. He was one of about ten other captive boys. Their life expectancy was rather short, destined to die eventually at the hands of the ferals, and quickly replaced by new captives. It was random, and none of them really understood the rules they had to follow to stay alive. Their work was simple, to keep the fire going and occasionally to take it wherever the ferals wanted it. Little by little, the boys had been getting better at it. In the beginning, they used makeshift torches, but now used lighters and candles. It had cost quite a few lives to obtain them. The ferals did not talk, and it was a deadly game to try to guess what they wanted from you. Their usual reaction, when unsatisfied, was to kill. They had a way of communicating with each other, but it was rudimentary, not with words, but with grunts or sounds. Donny suspected there was something else but had no idea what it could be.

They were not all the same, though. Some of them were smarter and could occasionally utter a word or two, even use simple tools. Those seemed to be leading the others and giving orders. They met at the mall close to that fire, each at the head of a different pack. It made no sense to the captives, but it was clear those ferals had some degree of intelligence.

The fire was in a paved courtyard within the mall, open to the sky. None of them knew how or why it had started there. The ferals were, at the same time, fascinated and fearful of it. All the boys knew was that they had to keep it going, feeding it with whatever they could find.

Fortunately, they were not short of combustible material with the many stores all around. Donny had seen a few of the boys perish in its flames, their bodies bursting into a bright yellow blaze. Sometimes they were already dead, sometimes barely alive – their screams unceasingly haunting his sleep at night. His life was a waking nightmare, and escape seemed impossible.

A new feral had arrived recently and without a pack. Within a short time, he seemed to have assumed an important role among the leaders, and he had taken a particular interest in the captive boys, raping three of them within a few days. The man had picked Donny to be first and seemed particularly attracted to him, wanting him by his side most of the time. It hurt like hell, so much, so he thought he was going to die. Then there was the shame, but the boy hoped that in the end, it could help him survive a few more days, at least that was what he was told.

The boys had known something was wrong before they heard anything. Donny had been sleeping with the rapist, as the boys now called him, so he was not on duty to watch the fire that night. He was naked, his clothes ripped from him the first time the man had taken him, and it was clear he wanted him to stay that way. He opened his eyes as the feral became agitated beside him. Not again! was his first thought but it was not like that. The turmoil had spread to the numerous feral around them, with the leaders coming together at once to seemingly hold a meeting in their strange way.

Almost at the same time, they heard the first shootings and explosions; they came from far away but were definitely coming closer. Donny had joined the other boys who huddled together with a mix of fear and hope. Was someone coming to free them? Was that even possible?

There was a shout sent by the rapist and the other leaders as thousands of ferals ran from the mall. Left alone for the first time since their capture, the boys were unsure of what they should do.

***

Miles could not see Matthew on the display screen, but he knew he was there in the Humvee, pursued by thousands of ferals. He should never have accepted Fisher's deal. He loved that kid and he did not need him to share his bed to have such strong feelings. Now it was his job to get him out of that situation.

During those tense minutes, Miles could not escape recalling the last moments spent with Matthew just before he took his place in the Humvee. It was his fault that the boy was in danger. He still felt the intensity of their last embrace, the boy clinging to him, his body glued to his own – the child had kissed him on the lips for the first time.

He realized the strength of their bond; how much he loved that child, the trust and unconditional love that he received from him. Was there something sexual in their mutual attraction? For his part, there was no doubt about it, how could it be otherwise, he resisted it, but it was there. What about the boy? He had made a rather clear declaration to Anthony when he rebuffed him.

Miles had to concentrate on his task: this was not the time to think about anything else.

He looked at the map to estimate how long it would be until Louise reached the Humvee. The main problem since she did not follow any road was that they could miss each other and keep going in opposite directions.

"They won't make it," said Brett, "that way will be cut off before they reach the other road."

The ferals seemed to have anticipated the move, and a large number of them, instead of going straight for their target, had run to block their escape by massing themselves on the new exit road, each side of which was woodland, impractical even for the Humvee to pass, and going through that many of them was out of the question.

"Yes, it is doubtful they can make it, and the Humvee would also be in jeopardy if they tried to force their way through. Max, you listening?"

"You bet I am."

"I fear you won't make it; you need to avoid the ferals until Louise joins you."

"Tell me."

"Don't try to come to us, go right, back toward the mall."

"Are you serious?"

"I see no other alternative.

"Well, if you say so, I'm sure you haven't forgotten that precious cargo on the back seat. I trust you on that."

Stuart was managing the second drone following the progress of the Bradley that went straight to its objective, whatever the obstacles. A third drone had taken flight to survey the convoy of trucks manned by Sun, one of the tech guys.

"Have the drones fly higher so that we have a better perspective on each of the vehicle's surroundings. We will be their eyes," ordered Miles.

"Will do," answered Brett and Stuart together.

As the drones went up in the clear skies, they could see the rushing mass of ferals behind the Humvee, moving fast. Greg was firing from time to time to try to slow them down while knowing he could not hope to kill enough of them for it to make a difference. At least they were now outdistancing them.

Finally, the Bradley appeared on the display screen, getting to the same road a little ahead of the Humvee.

"Louise, stop on the road and wait for Max, he'll be there in no time."

As Miles was thinking of what to do next, force a passage using the Bradley as a battering ram with the Humvee following in its wake or finding them an alternate route, the unexpected happened right before his eyes.

Max was speeding down the dirt road towards the mall when the trees opened up to overgrown farm fields. He looked left and right across the fields for any sign of danger when he spotted the Bradley – stopped in the middle of the road! He pressed on the brakes while keeping some speed. His goal was to place the Humvee behind the light tank and follow. He veered to the right, but then thought he had more room to the left, and swung the vehicle that way. The Humvee caught the left front wheel in the drainage ditch that ran alongside the road, hidden by heavy and overgrown brush. Max jerked the steering wheel to the right, only to catch the left rear wheel as he felt the ground give way under the weight of the Humvee.

The drop-off was steeper than the vehicle could handle and began to slide and then roll onto its side. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the two boys who were riding up top go flying past him, landing in the field, one with limbs flailing, the other headfirst, his mind adding the cracking sounds as his body cringed and froze.

Everything occurred in a surreal slow motion, the boys in the vehicle thrown around, hitting the back of Max's seat with force, the windshield, the side doors. Suddenly everything came to a stop; the silence that followed was deafening. The vehicle was on its left side; blood was spilled.

For a moment, everyone was numb, Louise in the Bradley, Miles, and Brett watching the screens, Max immobile, his white knuckle hands wrapped tightly on the steering wheel. It did not last; the silence broke with screams and cries for help, the radio blasted to life.

"What happened? How is everybody in there?" shouted Miles on the radio.

"You'll get the right answer when we get to the ejected boys."

Greg had seen the crash coming, and fortunately and swiftly ducked down inside the turret: he appeared uninjured.

Max swung into action, telling Miles, "I'm going after the boys that were ejected. Greg, help the boys in here and check for any serious injuries." Dropping the handset, he began to climb out the passenger door, it was a heavily armored door, and Max needed to get his footing solid to push when he heard Miles on the radio.

"Louise is already out and getting the boys in the field. How are the boys in your vehicle?"

Max and Greg extricated the boys who had fallen to the left side of the Humvee; they found no serious injuries; some cuts and bruises were all. With the vehicle on its side, it was a bit more crowded than before. Max stopped the motor, in case the deep water fording exhaust was buried in the dirt and blocked: he did not want to risk exhaust fumes entering the vehicle. He knew there was no way he could get out of this situation by himself. Shouting into the radio, "Call me stupid! Look at the mess I've made. We'll need some help! How far are the ferals?"

"The ferals are very close now; you need to secure the vehicle you're in and quickly."

Louise provided the news everyone was anxiously waiting for, "I've got the boys in the Bradley with me, looks like a concussion for one, who luckily did have a helmet, and a dislocated shoulder for the other." Louise checked down the road as she heard Miles on the radio.

"Hurry up!" urged Miles as he saw the ferals almost upon them.

"We won't have time to take any more of your boys, I fear, Max," she said, her voice blurred by the staccato of the machine gun as she ran back with the boys to the Bradley. It had opened fire to slow the onslaught, and now its rear door was closing.

"Get them to safety, we'll manage," said Max, without conviction. "Lock the doors and windows, boys," he ordered. "We fear nothing if we stay inside."

Louise was right; they did not have time to climb out of the Humvee and reach the safety of the Bradley. Louise, radioed Miles, "What should we do? Can we get them out of that situation by ourselves?"

"You would have to use the winch on the Humvee to right it, but we can't risk anyone outside the vehicles right now, and I'm not sure if the embankment will prevent it from righting itself anyway.

"I'll need some time to come up with a plan to get them out. Let's try something else first. Don't stay there; try to bring the ferals to you and away from the Humvee. Don't go too far, though, in case you're needed. How much ammunition do you have?"

"There is some, but I'm no specialist on this type of gun."

"Then save as much of it as possible, we'll need it later. The Humvee has its own winch; we'll just need to hook the cable to something that we can use."

"Do you think they'll be safe in the Humvee," asked Brett beside him.

"I'd bet on it, the vehicle is steel armored and has bulletproof windows. The ferals don't have the means to get inside," replied Miles, as he saw the Bradley pull back slowly and the ferals surge forward and submerge the Humvee.

"Still, I wouldn't want to be in there," commented Brett.

"How are the boys that got ejected?" asked Miles, "Do they need medical assistance?"

"I think we can manage," answered Louise, "I learned how to fix that shoulder, it will hurt, but then it should be okay. I'll keep an eye on the concussion case, for now, he looks fine. Boys at that age are very flexible, and the overgrowth of vegetation and soft farm dirt certainly was a blessing."

Inside the cramped vehicle, Max and the boys had been waiting for the onslaught. Matthew was being crushed by two much bigger boys who looked as afraid as he was, all were in a rather uncomfortable position with a lack of space. Would the ferals pass them by and pursue the Bradley, or would they try to get in?

They did not have long to wait to know the answer to that question.

Miles saw it all on the display screen. The ferals, as one, grabbing rocks or any object they could lay their hands on, immediately attacking the armored vehicle from all sides, jumping on it like a pack of voracious and famished wolves.

Inside it was hot and the noise deafening with the boys covering their ears and fearing they would make a breach.

"Don't worry, you're safe," Max shouted over the noise, "These things have been made to resist much stronger opponents, the ferals don't have the slightest chance of damaging it or entering, we just have to wait for reinforcements."

"We could try to shoot at them through a window," suggested a boy in the back.

"There's no need; we'll just lay low, they'll soon get tired of it." He sure hoped it would be so and that they would move on, the noise was grating on his nerves.

As the crisis unfolded, the convoy of trucks and cars reached Miles at the improvised command center. Miles ordered them to go on to Saint Xavier except for the two Humvees and the Bradley that would come in handy to rescue Max and Matthew.

Sven and Anthony chose to stay with the marine, as did Walt and Arthur, who joined them. They heard the latest developments on the radio, they wanted to help, and if the fate of Max and notably Greg did not bother them that much, they undoubtedly were worried about Mathew. Raymond Tools was now there too.

"We have to do something, Fisher will be furious if anything happens to Greg," he kept repeating.

"For the moment, it's best to wait and see how the ferals react before we attempt a rescue." As a few more of Dunn's Warriors joined them, he immediately began giving out orders. Miles's persona had changed; he was Major Dunn; he was in command; he had a mission to carry out. "Get back to your trucks and to Saint Xavier."

"I would like to go too if you don't mind. I'm of no use here any more." It was Shirley; she had shown her boredom during the whole operation, and now all she regretted was that Louise was not the one in danger, which would have filled her with glee.

"But I do mind until we have everybody back safely you're staying with us. We might still have need of you – Did you not hear we had two boys injured?" The sarcasm clearly expressed Miles' annoyance with Shirley.

Miles wondered how long to wait before trying something. Max and the boys had no water, and it would become excessively hot and cramped in the vehicle. He was watching the screen anxiously, hoping to see the ferals move on and abandon the Humvee. At least it looked like they had stopped hitting the vehicle, perhaps understanding it was hopeless, but there were still a few hundred of them around it.

"What about Louise?" he asked Brett.

"Her Bradley is standing a bit further down the road, out of sight. The ferals' only interest seems to be the Humvee. We're sending a new drone to monitor the situation with full batteries."

"Also, send one to the mall; I want to know what's going on there." Would the ferals react like wasps and try to retaliate when you attacked their nest? He had to know. The mall was not that far away.

"Make sure all the armored vehicles are fueled and ready to move out; check we have enough ammunition for the machine guns in each of them. Take what you need from the reserve," he told Arthur and Walt, who left immediately.

"The reserve? Where did you get all that stuff?" asked Tools, listening.

"At the food depot. We brought it here with us. It was not that much but enough to face this situation. If we had to abort the plan at the mall, we would have ample ammunition here for our defense and orderly retreat."

The two boys were back twenty minutes later.

"The vehicles are ready and there should be enough bullets to bring death to them all. We found some shells for the canons too. We checked it all. I volunteer to do whatever has to be done," said Walt, concerned.

"With the two Humvees and Bradleys, Can't we blast a way to them?" suggested Sven.

"Are we going?" asked Walt impatiently.

"I'll give the ferals another hour, so long as their attack is dying down and there are no reinforcements coming from the mall, it's best to wait, to minimize risk. Don't forget one or two of us will have to get out on the ground to fix a cable to pull them out, and we'll also need people to man the machine guns. They'll be exposed."

"I'll do it," said Walt.

"Same for me," said Tools.

"We'll see. I would prefer they left Max and the Humvee alone, most of them, at least; then it would be easier and we would not have to waste precious ammo. Did that drone reach the mall yet?" asked Miles, turning toward Brett.

"Almost," said the boy, concentrating on his task.

***

Cole was almost done, it had taken him hours, but he was close, he was crying, feeling a mix of desperation and fear. Freedom was within his grasp, but what should he do next? He was confused. How much time had passed since this nightmare had started? From the bits of conversations he had heard from Mister Fisher, Shirley, and her boys, the school was theirs. His best option was to flee, but where? He was naked and helpless.

Whatever! He had to try. He had a few friends left; certainly, they could not all have turned against him. How could he contact them without being caught again?

At last, the bed's metallic structure had yielded and he was able to pass the manacle through it. He was free to move in the room again; the window had locked metal shutters. The only way out was to go out the door and hope no one was there. Luck was on his side; the apartment was empty. For over twenty-four hours, there had been no visit and he had been able to devote most of that time to his escape. Shirley had left him some sandwiches, water, and a toilet bowl, but now he feared she would be back soon.

Exploring the place, he was surprised to discover that it was not the nurse's apartment but a man's, Mister Taylor, judging from the photos. The clothes were overly large for him; still, he put on a tee shirt, which was better than nothing.

His heart caught in his throat as he opened the front door and entered the corridor. The building appeared deserted, though peeking through the window, he could see armed boys moving about. The flu had killed most of the teachers, perhaps all by now, and he had no idea how long he had been held. Reaching the entrance hall, he held his breath, trying to calm down and plan his next move.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts: Clothes, must get clothes. Couldn't escape the school, half-naked and without shoes. Best hide till nightfall, get them under cover of darkness, food too – and a weapon. Kill them first rather than be recaptured. Guards were everywhere; could they all be involved with Fisher and that evil bitch Shirley? He searched his memory, tried to put his ideas in order, but to no avail, days, maybe weeks, were just blank. Better to hide than risk contact and betrayal.

Suddenly, he heard a rumble and opened the main door just enough to peek out through the crack, only to be momentarily blinded by his first glimpse of sunlight in a long time. His view partly obscured; he could just make out a convoy of trucks entering the school through the main gate. Numerous excited boys appeared, welcoming them as they parked in front of the administration building. There were a lot of them.

Using the diversion, he found the courage to leave the Teacher's House and dash for cover away from the gathering crowd going toward the chapel. He saw him right at that moment – Fisher! He was at the top of the steps welcoming the new arrivals. It was enough to paralyze him with terror, at least until he managed to get hold of his senses again.

Out of breath, he plunged into some bushes by the side of the path just in time to see a group of boys pass. They were hurrying toward the convoy like everyone else, and all were carrying weapons. Harvey Van Huys, one of his worst tormentors, led them, that much he was certain of, as for the others, he didn't think he knew all their names.

Should he wait until nightfall? or collect what was needed and escape while the attention of the whole school was focused on the convoy's arrival?

***

Luck had found them at last and Roy Neary was celebrating with his pretties. Thanks to the maps, the scouting party had found an almost untouched depot of the National Guard with enough ammunition, fuel, vehicles and more to meet their needs. Such finds were becoming rare and this time he decided he would not squander it on endless wanderings. Now that it looked like they would survive the flu, they needed to change their way of life.

He gave a sudden last push, entering Devon forcefully to the hilt, as much as he liked the boy he still had to show him and the others who was the master from time to time. The boy hissed in pain but did not protest.

"That's a good boy, the best I've had so far," complimented Roy, kissing him gently before letting him surrender his sweet mouth to his invading tongue as he started a good long fuck.

Yes, he needed to find a cozy nest to enjoy his pretties in the coming months and new ones when he got tired of those: a place where he could savor the easy life in a lawless world. As one of the ruling bosses in jail, he would fulfill the same role in this new world. No more random slaughters, they needed to recruit more men to become an even greater force – one to be reckoned with. They would impose their law over a large territory, ransom its population, confiscate goods, and make raids to obtain whatever they wanted in the surrounding areas.

What they found this day would be used toward that goal and those that did not agree with it, those who wanted to stick to their no-future-attitude, would have to go, or be eliminated.

"Liz, my dear, come suck on Devon's little tool." It was all shriveled and not reacting to Roy's thrusts as it could be when it was just the two of them. "Jules give him your pecker to taste. You two should learn from him; he is dedicated to pleasuring me in every way, he never complains and is always willing, the most beautiful and perfect boy. Maggie could not compare, really."

As the girl and boy complied, trying to show the expected enthusiasm, he moved to his side, bringing the boy with him, to enjoy the view while keeping a steady in and out motion in the child's receptive and velvety receptacle. Yes, life could be great.

In a corner of the room, Devon's little brother was watching the proceedings with a mixed expression of stupefaction and perplexity. What could he be thinking wondered Roy? Did he want to participate? Was he horrified and disgusted? It would be fun to discover the outcome, but later, he had promised Devon his little brother would not be touched. That would come in due time though; it could not be otherwise given the circumstances. He had already escaped falling into Red's hands or rather stomach; you could not ask for much more. If he turned out as good looking as Devon, he would make the perfect replacement when the time came.

He was observing with pleasure that young Jules and Liz were going at it with real gusto, Jules notably face fucking the boy with force. Of course, his cocklet was too short of achieving any deep throating, but he definitely tried. There was envy toward the new boy who was a clear favorite and it showed in the aggressiveness of the act. That was a good thing: Roy wanted to instill rivalry between his pretties; it was safer that way. They would be less likely to join forces against him and try something they would regret.

He was getting close.

"Come get it," he said to Liz, pulling her off Devon by the hair. "Open your mouth for me," he added, as he slipped out of the boy's butt and delivered his load down the girl's throat. "Don't worry, Jules; you'll get some too, later."

He feared he had been too soft with them recently: he needed to remind them that their fate depended on him. Absolute ruthlessness was necessary to command the respect needed to lead The Ravagers. Feelings were seen as a sign of weakness and he was careful not to show any, notably toward Devon. He did not need an Achilles' heel.

"Get it clean, yes that's it." As Liz was licking and swallowing, he pulled Devon by his arm. "Get dressed boy, I'll take you with me to see if Red has finished the inventory and learn what he thinks we should do next."

Parked in a field beside the camp, it took them a few minutes after leaving the trailer to find his lieutenant finishing the list of all the goods at their disposal. They walked through large alleys bordered by tents stacked with crates of all shapes and sizes. This military depot appeared quite improvised and had been set up in a rather secluded area. It was deserted when they arrived and even though some of the tents had obviously been visited previously, not much had been taken. Those maps had truly been a godsend; they would never have found it without them.

"So what's in our treasure trove, Red?"

"A lot more than we can use, in fact, we could be well-stocked for months."

"I wanted to talk with you about that, the next months that is."

"I knew there was something brewing."

Roy spoke with Red carefully, as he knew this could be a turning point for the future of The Ravagers, "Yes, we can't go on like this. Now that the flu has died down, we're all going to survive. We have to think about the future; get a place where we can settle and make our own. We have the weapons; this new world could be ours to rule if we choose." Roy was apprehensive and paused before asking the question, "What do you think?" The man's answer would be telling: if Red were on his side, it would definitely give him the upper hand for what was to follow. No one could really replace him.

"I agree, so long as it doesn't mean any change to my small perversions. Don't want to get too civilized, ya know…"

"Goes without saying. We will all follow our own inclinations." Roy brought Devon to him, encircling his naked chest with one arm while the other went under his shorts, cupping one buttock then moving to the front to play with his crotch. "Couldn't do without my pretties myself; I'll keep you supplied with whatever you need. In fact, this new life might be the only way for you to keep those practices going in the long run."

"I've been thinking about that myself. I can say we got a deal."

"We will need more men for what I have in mind and I don't want to put them off joining us for the wrong reason. That's why I need you to keep the most extreme stuff to yourself, just use some discretion, that's all I'm asking for."

"Told ya, you gotta deal. I'll keep my diet to myself but I hope we'll still have some games going on."

"Yes, of course, I love your imagination. What about our men, do you think they'll accept the change."

"I think so, except perhaps for the most wacko and there's not many of them left."

"That's settled then. I'll talk to them in the evening."

***

"Where's Dunn? Greg? and the others?" Fisher asked Mike Healy, surprised to see him in charge of the convoy.

"There's been a problem, one of the vehicles got stuck, and it's surrounded by ferals. They're trying to get them out."

"They?"

"Dunn and those with the captured armored vehicles that stayed behind."

"What about Max? Greg?"

"They're the ones in the stuck vehicle."

"They are?" Carl felt cold sweat run down his back. "How did it happen?"

"Don't really know, only that Miss Simons has been sent to help with one of those tanks."

"Were there any casualties?"

"Nothing serious to my knowledge."

Fisher felt relieved, Matthew was in that Humvee. Dunn would do all he could to get him back. Yes, certainly, it could not be otherwise. Doubt suddenly assaulted him. Did Dunn do it on purpose? It couldn't be. It was not in his character.

"Do you know what's in those trucks?"

"All kinds of stuff, guns, ammunition too, but we haven't had time to check it properly yet."

"Drive to the gymnasium and unload everything there except for anything that looks like explosives. We will take care of those later."

It would take some time to achieve, all the boys that were left at the school and not on duty, had come to see the trucks and hear the news. Carl saw Harvey with some of Shirley's boys come his way with guns on their shoulders; they had been put in charge of the school security during the raid.

"Harvey, I want you to go to the gymnasium and monitor the unloading. I'll be with you later to see if it was worth the effort. Try to put some order to it and make sure that nothing disappears."

"No problem, sir."

Carl watched the boys leave, walking through the crowd, and since most of them were from Shirley's brigade, all the gathered students stood back to let them pass. They had learned that you did not meddle with them. He had been careful to keep them at the school, they were his close-knit guard, and he did not want to lose any of them. It was enough that Greg and Max were now at risk.

He should have felt satisfied and readying the champagne; the raid had worked. Even if he did not know yet exactly what was in those trucks, they had already captured more than they could reasonably hope for, including armored assault vehicles. Too bad about the accident, but there was nothing he could do about it at that moment, which was infuriating. He had to calm down.

It would take hours to unload those trucks, he had ample time to finish his current occupation, and it would take his mind away from the problem. This was not the first crisis he had gone through and luck had always been on his side.

He had started making lists and giving points to the boys: those with him, those against him; those that he might have to get rid of, those that could be used; those with interesting assets, those without, and this was done in different areas: looks, knowledge, aptitudes, talents. It would result in a grading system to attribute a certain value to each of them. He didn't know why, but he loved doing that and it could soon become very useful when the takeover was complete. Shirley's boys and some others would be essential: they would be there to do the dirty work if needed. He would manage; he always had, even if Greg and Max never returned.

***

As the drone approached the mall, everybody could see the changes. The ferals had blocked the access roads with all kinds of debris: they would not be taken by surprise a second time. The parking lot with the remaining vehicles was now occupied by a multitude of them.

"They learned their lesson. If we wanted to go back for more, it would not be as easy as this morning," said Miles, "At least they're not giving pursuit or trying to retaliate right away. My fear is that they might send reinforcements to those around Max's Humvee; there's enough of them as it is."

"The ferals don't seem to be letting go. I think we will have to act with force. How do you think they will react?" asked Tools, still pushing for immediate action.

"They're not stupid and they've had a taste of our firepower. I think they would withdraw if confronted with a show of force, but they'll be ready to take advantage of any mistake we make."

"How do we proceed then?" It was Walt who could not hide his restlessness; he would have liked to be there already and fighting.

"The only danger to us is if we leave the vehicles, so the goal is to find the best way to get there, keep the ferals at a good distance, put that Humvee back on its wheels and out of that ditch while having as few of us exposed as possible during the rescue. Then we get out."

"How do we do that?" asked Tools.

Miles continued, "My plan is simple, we use the exit road they were supposed to take and when we come level, we cross through the fields to get to them. We will have the ferals on open ground with the forest behind them, strategically a rather strong position. As we advance across the field, we will use our firepower to drive the ferals into the forest, killing as many of them as possible. I think most will retreat and hide in the forest. Only those that do not understand they don't have a chance against us will dare face us. Once they've found refuge in the forest, we'll stop firing to save on ammo. We'll take up a position around Max's Humvee, facing them. Louise with her Bradley will be there too, on the road above.

"Next, I see two options; if I think it's safe enough, we get everybody out of the Humvee through the turret hatch, that, luckily, will be facing towards us, while one or two of us get the winch cable up to Louise's Bradley. If that's not possible, deemed too dangerous, we go to the second option right away and use the winch with everybody still in the Humvee.

"In both instances, we will lay down suppression fire as needed to avoid any surprises. For this to work, we'll need to expend a lot of ammo – we'll be expending our reserves. I must check how much there is."

Walt thought the plan could work, but only if they were not overwhelmed by numbers: he had seen the size of the hoards. "What do we do if they keep coming and don't run away? like too many for our machine guns."

Miles looked at Walt, he would be a keen field commander, "We'll assess the situation in real-time, if there's too many to safely evacuate the Humvee, we'll pull back, but only temporarily until we can execute the plan safely."

Walt thought he knew what was coming next when he interjected, "Are we all going?"

"I think we're all going," stated Arthur, "I'll drive the Humvee."

Miles knew he needed everyone and knew these ad-hoc plans hastily made were the most dangerous, "I need to make sure that all is ready and organize things here and then we can go."

He went to each vehicle, they were not all of the same shapes and make, but all were armed with a turret and a machine gun. They were perfect to face the ferals who could do nothing against them. Then he checked the fuel levels, radios, machine guns, and ensured there was plenty of ammunition – not that he did not trust Walt or Arthur – but he did not want to take any chances. Next, he instructed Brett and Stuart on how they should handle the drones when the fight began.

When the time came to go, Sven wanted to ride with Miles and he saw no reason to refuse. He looked quite the little soldier and had shown his value several times. They entered the Bradley and settled in while Walt went into the turret and the driver sat behind the wheel.

***

With the engine turned off, the air conditioning was no longer working, and it was getting hot in the vehicle, everybody was sweating profusely, and with the extra occupants, they had run out of water. Max felt the tension mounting and expected at any moment to face a panic from one of the ten boys, trapped in there for more than an hour now. This, despite the contact that was kept with Dunn through the radio and the knowledge that rescue was coming. At least the ferals had given up on trying to enter and stopped banging on the cabin with everything at their disposal.

"How long do you think it will be before they come for us?" asked one of the boys named Steve, who was about sixteen.

"Before they get us, you mean. I don't think anyone will risk his life for us. Haven't you seen how many of those zombies are out there?" This was Pablo Munez, Max was watching him closely; he had had only negative words since the beginning.

"You're talking nonsense. They'll come for us, if not for you, for young Matthew here, Mister Dunn cares a lot for him."

"That's what I heard, but we all know that no one is irreplaceable and he already got a few others to warm his bed."

"They can say whatever they want on the radio, it proves nothing," said Collier.

"Look! There's something going on out there. What are they doing?" said Lewis, rubbing the bump on his forehead, as he observed the ferals on the other side of the windshield.

"I have no idea," said Max.

"They're piling wood around us," Lewis was thinking aloud, "I can't see any reason for that."

"They'll set fire to it and we'll burn! What else?" said Pablo.

"Calm down, Pablo I've never seen'em use fire.

I don't think they can," replied Max, very concerned by the tone of hysteria coming from the boy. It was with some relief he noticed a fire extinguisher next to his seat. Pablo was looking insistently at the turret hatch that they had been lucky to be able to close and lock before being submerged by the ferals.

Matthew had paled, contaminated by the building panic in the confines of the Bradley. He was massaging his knee, an injury sustained during the fall and he was not too sure he would be capable of running. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his brow as he pulled up his jeans' leg to examine the knee. It had begun to swell a little, but he could still move the leg.

"So you're our only hope and Dunn's sweetheart," said Pablo, pinching his arm viciously, "He'd better show up! and soon or you'll be the first one to suffer the consequences, you're quite the pretty one, don't you think guys?"

"Leave him alone, Pablo," said Lewis.

Max pushed the button on his radio: "Situation is getting tense here. The ferals are preparing something and we don't like it. When can we expect you?"

"We're leaving now, it should be ten, fifteen minutes at the most," answered a scratchy voice.

"Thank you, Miles; we're counting on you."

And you can, thought the marine as the motors of the vehicles came to life and they left the command center behind them.

Stuart was watching the situation on the ground with one of the drones when he spotted an access road to the field, something the farmer must have used for his tractors. It was right at the corner of the field, right on the edge of the woods, easy to miss, especially driving past. He radioed Miles and let him know.

Miles followed his plan and sent the vehicles to sweep the field where the Humvee was on its side. That overgrown vegetation could hide ferals, and he did not want to risk being overwhelmed. He used the radio to communicate with the other vehicles. Miles would lead; Louise would join them coming from the high ground.

"Let's move forward and drive them out," said Miles with authority.

As they swept onto the field and moved towards the disabled Humvee, the ferals turned their attention their way and began rushing at them, just what Miles wanted.

"Open fire," ordered Miles, "Drivers stop, let them come to us, and then move back slowly. Let's draw them out."

Walt and the three other boys manning the machine guns opened fire spreading death and chaos among the ferals' ranks, and within an instant, they had stopped the assault and were disbanding, retreating, indeed running to the woods at the other end of the field.

"They're learning fast, it's too easy," commented Sven, seated beside Miles, impressed by the devastating effect of their weapons.

"Keep your eyes open boys, now comes the difficult part. Everybody, cease-fire," he said on the radio, "and get in position, circle the Humvee."

The Bradley and the two Humvees moved forward again, slowly rolling over the bodies of the many ferals that had fallen, forming an arc around the Humvee, with the Bradley in the middle, it's back to the Humvee. Louise took up her position on the road above and reported she had a commanding view of their surroundings.

"Sven, be ready to close that door at the first sign of danger, or if I tell you to do it, you don't question that order and don't hesitate. I need to count on you."

"You can, but it won't be necessary," replied the boy, confident.

"I sure hope so," said Miles, caressing the boy's soft cheek, "You won't get rid of me that easily. You pull back as soon as I am in, or if the ferals get too close, you don't wait for me," he added to the driver.

Miles radioed Max, "Max, we're ready, open the turret hatch."

Miles dropped the back door on the Bradley and quickly assessed the situation: Piece of cake, he wanted to think. He was wearing full battle gear, just in case. He had a radio headset and an M16 with a full load of magazines in his vest, along with a Glock in his chest holster. The ferals were only a few feet into the woods at the edge of the field. He could see the stacks of wood they had piled around Max's Humvee, whose purpose was still a mystery.

"Don't forget to come back." Sven was holding his gun tight with a forced smile.

"Piece of cake," Miles said again, aloud this time, followed by: "Fire! Give them hell."

Indeed a deluge of fire hit the trees in front of them, hacking branches and even trunks. Machine guns and automatic weapons were creating a hoped-for impassable barrier as the boys began to crawl out of the Humvee and clamor out into the waiting Bradley. Miles had jumped out, grabbed the hook on the winch, released the cable, and climbed the embankment to Louise's vehicle. The cable pulled out without a glitch and Miles was able to hook it to the Bradley.

The boys were just about out of the Humvee, Matthew among the last who, after a wave of the hand, ran to join Sven. Miles could not hide a large smile as he was using the remote control to take up the slack on the cable. As often is the case in such situations, he felt as if he was in slow motion, bent over to avoid any stray bullet or ricochet, wearing a helmet and a bulletproof vest.

He was concentrated on his task, careful not to step on any obstacle or depression, his eyes glued to the Humvee and cable. The ferals were not his problem; they were being dealt with by those that covered for him.

Miles shouted to Max, "Max, time to get out, we're ready to winch this back onto all fours, if we're successful, you can get back behind the wheel and drive it out.

Max didn't want to waste time and shouted to pull it over now. Miles knew there was no time to discuss safety or whether the Humvee would restart, or if the ferals damaged anything when poking it. Miles slowly winched the Humvee until it hit the embankment with a thud. The machine guns had stopped firing; they didn't have unlimited ammo.

The ferals were watching, they were everywhere, but they could not move forward or try to stand without a serious chance of being hit. The few that tried were blown away almost instantly. Sven was waiting by the door for him, on alert, when he saw the boy raise his gun and shoot a rapid burst: two ferals had been hidden in the ditch under branches. They fell back, blown away.

"Well done, Sven," he shouted, "Now close the door. We can't risk the lives in the Bradley. I'll ride with Max." The boy, as a good soldier, obeyed without hesitation.

The Humvee roared to life, Max turned the wheels uphill and slowly pushed on the gas pedal as Miles tightened the winch cable. The Humvee began to move up the embankment when suddenly the right front corner lifted up off the ground, the winch cable catching it and keeping it from rolling over again.

Sudden bursts of machine-gun fire breaking let Miles know the boys were still doing their job, the noise was deafening but comforting.

Finally, it was perpendicular to the embankment, and soon it would be on level ground. Miles put slack into the cable and unhooked it from the Humvee; he wound it back quickly and jumped in with Max.

"Everybody, we're leaving this place. We'll go to the command center and then to Saint Xavier. You all did a great job." Max accelerated the Humvee, which responded without a glitch.

"Nothing broke, this is sturdy stuff," Max told him. Opening the window, he turned and said, "You don't know how good some fresh air can feel after that. It was suffocating."

"Didn't you know you had air conditioning?" replied Miles with irony.

"Doesn't work too well with the engine off. Do you have any water? We ran out some time ago."

"We do."

Miles stopped one of the vehicles to retrieve a bottle.

"Can't imagine how good it can feel," said Max, emptying half of it. They were on the move again right after that, with the air conditioning at full blast.

***

Donny had been one of the three boys to survive the aftermath of the attack. When the ferals had returned, they were in a rage and set to tear them all apart limb by limb. Only the intervention of the rapist spared him and two others. Of course, they could have thought of running away when the ferals had left the courtyard, but terrified and exhausted, they were in a state of mind that made the idea of an escape impossible. While they cowered behind the man who was their tormentor and savior, they heard the cries of pain and terror of their friends as the ferals mercilessly killed them. It lasted a good ten minutes before it was over.

Trembling, the three boys held each other in a tight embrace, trying to shut away the sounds and images of the slaughter, then, what was left of the bodies, thrown into the fire. A smell of roasted flesh invaded the atrium from the courtyard outside.

The ferals were still hyperactive; there was constant movement as some of them entered and exited the atrium. They were exchanging information, talking in their strange ways or so thought Donny, fortunately, during that time they seemed to have forgotten their captives. It did not last.

At some point, their interest rekindled and a group of about fifteen pulled the children from their hiding. It was soon clear that they needed the boys' services. Donny's first reaction was to let it go; he was doomed anyway, better to have it end now than later. He did not want to live anymore. Still, again, his survival instincts took over, which was only natural with someone that young. He tried to understand what their task would be.

It was soon understood that the ferals wanted the fire to be transported elsewhere, which was something the boys had done a number of times already, bringing it to another part of the mall for mysterious reasons. This time it was different, they wanted it outside, and a large number of them escorted Donny and Stan to an unknown destination, with one boy left behind to take care of the main fire in the courtyard. They brought the fire with them in different forms, torches, lighters, and matches, to be sure it did not die and suffer the consequences.

They were rushed forward: it appeared the ferals would have almost wanted them to run. What was the hurry, wondered Donny? The only reassuring fact was that the rapist was coming with them, staying by their side and seemed to want them to stay alive wherever they were going.

They had lost any notion of time when again and without warning as they walked through dense woods, close by, gunfire erupted. It was deafening and devastating. All around bullets were whizzing by, cutting small trees and ferals in two. There were blood and guts everywhere. Out of instinct, Donny flung himself to the ground taking his friend with him and letting go of the torch and everything else they transported. The gunfire lasted for what appeared to them a very long time.

When the shooting stopped, their ears were ringing, and they hurried to light their torches again, they had to show their usefulness if they expected to live. From ahead came the sound of loud vehicle motors. For the first time since their capture, they could think that salvation was within reach. They had nothing to lose; with a move of the head, he expressed the idea to his fellow captive Stan.

As he tensed his body, ready to risk all in a dash for freedom, he was seized by the neck. Their savior and rapist was still there, unhurt and keen on keeping them with him. Ferals were standing up all around; it appeared that, in the end, despite the impression of slaughter, most had survived. They were emitting those strange plaintive sounds again. Donny's shoulders sagged, freedom had escaped them; they were still in the clutches of those monsters with human faces.

***

Well over an hour had passed when Carl Fisher went to inspect the unloading. He was fidgety and needed to unwind. There was still no news from Dunn, Greg, or Max. The hard work was still going on, which was not a surprise with twenty trucks to empty and since the boys doing it were all juniors. Dunn had taken most of the seniors with him, and now that they were back, they were allowed to unwind after the morning operation.

Harvey had done a good job it seemed; everything was well organized with the goods put together by category. At first glance, there was a lot of 'useless stuff,' tents, beds, covers, furniture, public order stuff, sticks, shields, knee and elbow protectors, teargas canisters, dried and canned food, medical supplies of many kinds, as expected. Then there was the really valuable stuff, weapons of all make and shape, enough to equip the whole school, as well as one could think, the ammunition to go with it. Once you added the tanks and Humvees Dunn was bringing back, they would have a force to be reckoned with. His dreams were becoming more real by the minute, with some serious changes about to take place. Now, if Greg and Max were to come back, his team would be complete.

Harvey, and the boys with him, all from Shirley's bunch, were talking animatedly while supervising and keeping an eye on the proceedings. There were about twenty kids at work around the trucks.

Despite the fact that he was the youngest in that group of seven, it was evident that Harvey was listened to more than anyone else was. Was it respect? Was it fear? Fisher thought it was rather fear. That boy was special, he was unpredictable, headmaster Daniels had had quite a few reports concerning him previously, and now Fisher had the ones Shirley had made to him, in confidence. Before making his presence known, Carl decided to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"But don't you regret girls?" A tall, stocky boy called Anton was asking.

"How can I regret something I've had little experience with? Like most of us," answered Harvey, he didn't want to advertise the sexual nature of his close relationship with the nurse. None of them knew of it and he preferred it to stay that way.

"But it's not the same with girls," said Stefan, a boy with a severe case of acne.

"With a face like yours, there's no way you could have had the opportunity to know," answered Harvey bluntly, "Anyway, we're the lucky ones, guys. Soon we'll have access to anything we want, girls, boys, or anything else. We won't be limited to Cole and a few others anymore. You just have to keep following Shirley and Mister Fisher's orders."

"I always dreamed of girls. Never thought I'd get such pleasure from little Phillip. He does everything I ask of him," said the stocky guy, "Too bad no one has wanted to be your companion yet, Stefan, but as Harvey said, it's understandable."

"Your Phillip is terrified; he never dared to say no, that's the only reason why he stays with you," acne face replied.

"If you say so, I don't really care as long as he lets me fuck him as often as I want."

"You're not the only one that hasn't found his match yet, Stefan. They're all afraid of us," said a third boy, Simon, "They say we still got the smell of death on us, it seems that what went on at the gymnasium has leaked somehow."

"But you, Harvey, if you had the choice, who would you pick, a boy or a girl?" said a red-haired boy with pale skin, Jensen.

"Told you, I don't care what sex they are as long as they squeal good when I fuck them. I like it when they fight back, that's why I lost interest in Cole so quickly. The one I really want now is young Grayson."

"But he's one of us."

"Yeah, maybe, but he's young enough and should be a lot of fun to have under me. I've had my eye set on him for some time now, makes me horny just to think of it. He's so cocky, how delightful to teach him a lesson, put him back in his rightful place."

"Are we really gonna be able to pick whoever we want?" asked acne face looking at the young kids unloading the last two trucks with renewed interest.

"There are a few cute ones there. I'm sure that if you called one of them over he would blow you without being asked a second time," suggested Harvey.

"You think so?" replied acne face dreamily.

"Sure do, and now that we're talking about it, I could call one over for myself too. Don't be shy, Stefan, come on, which one do you want?" Harvey was enjoying the moment, watching the boy come out of his shell and studying with eagerness the young flesh parading a few feet away.

"The towheaded one with the blue tee-shirt. Anyone know his name?"

"Who cares for names? Good choice." Harvey stepped forward and grabbed the kid as he passed in front of him, going back to the trucks.

"Wait a minute, kiddo, your help is required, this way."

The kid was wary and skittish, as Harvey tightly grabbed the twelve-year-old by his arm and brought him back to the little group.

"What is it? What do you want?" He had a look back, obviously wishing to be set free and get back to work, away from that sinister and potentially dangerous bunch.

"Stefan needs your service. Get on your knees and open your mouth," said Harvey, smiling as he held the boy by the neck, and then pushed him down, forcing him to his knees.

"What? No, leave me alone!" The boy fought back and escaped Harvey's grip but not for long, finding himself quite solitary among the much bigger boys and the ones everyone avoided. Nonetheless, he was still standing up to them, which required some courage.

Carl decided it was time for him to show himself before it turned ugly; he had seen Harvey's expression and not only that, Stefan had unzipped his fly. There was a malicious look in his eyes.

"Hello boys, am I interrupting something?"

"Not really," answered Harvey in the most natural way, "We were just having some fun at the expense of that kid. We were about done anyway. Clear off, kid, get back to work."

The boy was quite happy to oblige, and still a bit shaky, walking away without further ado.

Besides Harvey, who behaved as if they had nothing to reproach themselves for, the others looked a little uneasy.

"No need to be concerned boys, I will not chastise you for that inconsequential incident. You are young, with raging hormones, and impatient. That's only natural. For now, we must bide our time, but it will not be long before I have the upper hand, and then those who supported me, and you among the first, will be well rewarded. You will have a large choice of sexual partners, among boys and girls, most brought from the outside but for the most worthy, like you Harvey: everything is possible. Grayson is a very good choice if you like them rebellious."

"Sir, I … we didn't know you were here."

"Just for a few minutes, Harvey. I'll just ask you to restrain yourself for a little while longer before crossing the line as you were about to do just now. Let me get everything under control and set the new rules, which will become much laxer for you and your friends. It is only the beginning; much more is coming if you show some patience. Otherwise, I must say that I am quite satisfied with the work accomplished here. Everything is as it should be, finish the job and then you'll be able to get some rest, now that the troops are back. Just keep one or two of you around at all times, to ensure no one takes anything, notably Dunn's boys. Understood?"

"Sir, you can count on me," said Harvey, with a large smile, "There's twenty of us that can be trusted, more if we take Greg and his friends into account. I'll organize a rotation. Nothing will leave this place without your approval."

"Good. I'll see you later."

Carl went through the gymnasium one more time between the numerous crates, appreciatively letting his hand course across some of them containing his new deadly toys. The whole sequence had made him horny, and he had a good idea of how he could occupy his time while waiting for Greg and Max.

***

Miles could not believe the operation was about to end without any fatalities. He had never thought his plan would be that successful. He had been persuaded from the start that there would be a price to pay for those trucks and armored vehicles. It was too good to be true.

He felt drained, and he knew the feeling: he had experienced it quite a few times already, in fact, after each engagement as a commanding officer for the Marines. He always had a great sense of duty and responsibility toward his men but this was rather different from what he had known before, it was very much more personal, this time the stakes had been higher – he exposed boys he loved to life-threatening danger.

Back at the command center, he cut short the scenes of rejoicing. Only when everyone was back at Saint Xavier, safe and sound, could he truly relax. Still, he gave them a little speech, thanking them all, whether they had been with him facing the ferals or behind the lines piloting the drones. They had all taken part in this victory. They packed everything and hit the road right away.

The boys were talking excitedly, reliving the drama of the last hours, the sea of bodies rushing at you at the mall, the danger lurking behind each vehicle in the parking lot, the dead ferals littering the ground on the field and the road. The blood, the shattered flesh, the smell of burnt powder, of death, the heat, the sounds of incessant firing that made you deaf to anything else – the fear! For yourself and for others, the hope, and the intense relief when it was all over.

They all needed to come back down and unwind, even young Brett, who despite having followed the action from a distance had felt involved at every moment and with a great weight on his shoulders: the drones had played a major role in the whole operation and were a key asset to its success.

Miles jumped into one of the Humvees, and they were all there around him in flesh and blood, Sven, Anthony, Brett, and Matthew accompanied by Bob and Walt. Even if he had wanted, he knew there would have been no way to separate the two reunited friends and the two young lovers.

They arrived back at Saint Xavier in the early afternoon and parked in front of the administration building, where a joyous crowd that steadily grew larger met them, with boys coming from every corner of the school to applaud their return. The headmaster came to the porch to welcome them, as Dunn, surrounded by his boys, was going up the stairs.

Carl had a rapid look around, seeing with pleasure Greg and Max coming out of one of the Humvees, they came to him and Carl embraced the teen in a rare show of affection. Dunn and Matthew were there too, looking at them and standing back, Walt and Bob by their side, soon joined by Louise.

"Mister Dunn, you have my deepest respect for what you have accomplished," started the headmaster, "I see with pleasure that you were able to rescue young Matthew and most dear to me Greg. It is without a doubt an extraordinary feat that you've accomplished today, everyone is back home, and even if you are the expert on that matter, I think the content of the trucks will not disappoint you. It will be of great value to the school. This, without taking into account those … what do you call them? Bradleys? And we have two more fully equipped Humvees," he added, pointing to the parked vehicles. What an achievement and a lot of it thanks to my support. I knew from the start you could do it.

Carl's narcissism was becoming more evident as his followers stood by, looking up to him, and believing in him as their leader and savior.

"It went far better than I could have hoped. Everyone did their job and you must thank them too. We had a few tense moments, but we pulled through," replied Miles with honesty.

"What exactly happened with Max's Humvee?"

"It rolled onto its side in a drainage ditch beside the road. Max had to leave the road to go behind the Bradley, which was stopped in the middle of the road." The embankment was steep and not too visible with all the overgrown brush. Also, those vehicles weigh a lot, several tons," added Miles, and the soft shoulder gave way under the weight.

"It's nobody's fault then and such things do happen, the main thing is that you all came back. Will you come to have a look at the gymnasium where we unloaded all that you brought from the mall? Or perhaps you would prefer some relaxing time with those pretty boys of yours?" Carl asked with a complicit smile as his eyes lingered on Matthew's lovely forms. Why am I so attracted by this one boy when there are so many at my disposal? he wondered, knowing there was no answer to that question.

"I'll certainly have a look. Then I'll go for a shower, perhaps a bite, and some rest. Last night was short and restless."

"This is quite understandable. Let me go with you. I have a lot to learn," Carl was all smiles. "Follow me."

"Boys, you should go have a shower, while I take a look at the content of the trucks, and get something to eat. I'll be with you shortly," Miles addressed the group of boys with him, "Louise, I'm sure you'll be interested too, care to join us?

"I wouldn't want to miss that," she replied, mounting the stairs.

"Max, Greg, I'm sure you want to have a look, too," added Carl.

They all went through the administration building and came out on the other side, taking the alley that led to the gymnasium and passing in front of the statue of Saint Xavier. Boys were stepping away to let them pass. Matthew suddenly reappeared beside Miles and, with determination, took his arm to drape it around his shoulder.

"The shower will wait, I want to stay with you," he said.

The boy had hesitated, he wanted to stay as far as possible from the headmaster, and he did not forget to send him a baleful look as a warning. Still shaken by the recent events he felt he needed the man's reassuring presence, with Dunn by his side he feared nothing and no one.

"As you wish, Matthew, you know you're always welcome, but how is your knee? Perhaps you should go see the nurse?" said Miles, gently squeezing the child's shoulder.

"It's nothing, look, I'm walking alright now. I certainly don't need that nurse."

"Very well, come on then." As expected, Miles soon felt the weight of the boy's young body leaning against him as they walked, so light and so heavy at the same time.

Damn, that boy is hot. I want him so bad. There must be a way. Carl could not chase from his mind the recollection of their encounter the other day: the feel of the boy's tense body against him, his fingers in the child's moist mouth, his delicate smell. He should have gone all the way then.

To hell with the consequences and do the same with young Bob, who looked almost as delectable. From the first time he had seen him, Matthew Perry had gotten under his skin and his image was with him most days. He let Dunn and the boy step ahead by a few paces to get a better view of the boy's assets and observe him without being too obvious. That bubble butt encased in his tight jeans, that slender silhouette! There was elegance, refinement in the child's demeanor rarely seen in one so young. Indeed, Dunn was a man of taste when it concerned boys, or perhaps it was just luck.

Carl preferred the second option. He was the experienced one. One who had done it all, right under the noses of the school board, the headmaster, and an antagonistic society. They were gone now and nothing could stop him. He would have it all, and this time without any restraint. Matthew would be the icing on the cake. He was certain to find a way; he always got what he wanted.

***

Miles did a perfunctory examination of the weapon crates and ammunition boxes taken from the trucks; it was enough for him to be quite satisfied. What he had seen was beyond expectation. Now they needed a complete inventory to decide what could be used and by whom. One of the trucks still contained some explosives, which would suitably be put to use. There was now more work for him to do in a short span of time if they wanted to be ready for any contingency. He asked Carl for a complete inventory to be ready as soon as possible.

Miles felt so tired that he needed some rest first and would get to it later in the afternoon. As he parted ways with Carl, he was witness to a strange scene. Shirley had stopped Carl and they were talking animatedly, obviously concerned. He thought of going to them and asking what the matter was but they did not call to him and he decided they could manage alone, all he wanted to do was lie down for a couple of hours.

"Matthew, what do you think about a little nap after a good shower together, and perhaps a bite?"

"That suits me fine, just the two of us?" answered the boy, beaming.

"If you like," he answered, tousling the boy's hair with affection. It appeared that Matthew was less of a sharer than Sven or Anthony, he often insisted on having alone time with the man, and given Matthew's recent stressful experience, Miles could not refuse the boy, admittedly, he was not sure he was not all for it himself.

After a stop in the dining hall to pick up sandwiches – he was not truly hungry – but the boy was done in a few bites, Miles took him to the shower in the infirmary. He was certain that it would be quiet and they would not be disturbed there.

The place was deserted as he had anticipated, with the two injured boys being looked after in their own houses. They undressed in silence. The cold water hit them and made them shiver after the heat of the day, but the effect was not unpleasant. There was little room for both of them and naturally, Matthew went to him always keen on making contact with the large, protective frame of the man. Miles was far from averse to that habit and welcomed it wholeheartedly, although contrary to what might be expected, there was nothing sexual in that contact and in the moments that followed.

They washed thoroughly: Miles applying generously to Matthew's much smaller body the liquid soap at their disposal and enjoying it immensely. He was still questioning the future of his relationship with the child, when to his surprise noticed there were no erections on show from either one of them, they only shared the pleasure of being together and a moment of intimacy.

As they exited the shower, Miles picked a clean towel and dried the boy before using another for himself. There was a degree of sensuality in the act, but it went no further, even when he took care of the boy's delicious butt or pecker. Nothing was really new, as he had seen in many instances the boy in the nude, who was used to bodily contact with him.

As soon as they finished showering, they jumped into bed, naked and exhausted. Miles spooned Matthew as they instantly fell asleep.

A little over an hour later, Miles was the first to awake. When he opened his eyes, he was met by a charming vision. Matthew had moved away from him slightly, lying mostly on his belly now, exposing his appealing round behind and more. His right leg was raised, opening his crack and uncovering the perfect pink little pucker hidden there. Miles just had to extend his arm to let his hand rest on the voluptuous twin mounds, which he did, caressing them, and then reaching for the thighs and lower back. It was not long before he felt a stirring in his loins. Soon an erection began to form and he knew he wanted to go further, one finger tracing a direct route along the exposed crack to the tight, virgin opening.

No, I can't do that! He told himself as he pulled back his hand and laid on his back, turning his head away from the gorgeous child.

This place was special for him. It had seen his first sexual encounters with Anthony and not long after, Sven. It was here that he had learned for the first time what it was to really make love with a boy. Before that, he had been too consumed by fear and shame, to express anything more than furtive acts of paid sex. What a journey he had accomplished, here at Saint Xavier, thanks to the boys he had met and been allowed to love. Had it been his intent to follow the same path with Matthew when he brought the boy to the same place, the same bed even? He still resisted the idea, even if his body showed a different inclination.

Miles closed his eyes and feigned sleep when he felt the boy moving beside him. Had Matthew been awake all along? What he had done was quite innocent anyway and he would certainly soon get the answer to that question and maybe to others. If what the boy had told Anthony was true and he wanted to start something, there could be no better occasion.

What was he doing? wondered Miles, hopeful and troubled at the same time, tempted to open one eye to decipher his actions. It seemed he was turning around toward Miles, who felt a hand brushing his side; the moves were still sluggish; perhaps he had just woken up and had no knowledge of the man's caresses. What was he going to do now?

Nothing happened for what seemed to be ages. Had he gone back to sleep? The marine was about to open his eyes when he felt a small hand delicately touch his torso and then he felt the boy's sweet breath on his face. He had to be right in front of him, inches away, watching him. Then the boy's lips lightly touched his own in a delicate kiss that lasted a few seconds, a charming gesture that could have many meanings but made a great impression on the man. There was nothing again for a few moments, the boy's lips and breath had left him – there was nothing he wanted more than their return. It did happen, but the boy's focus had changed, the feeling came back first on his lower belly, and then on his dick followed again by a light kiss.

Anthony had been right; there was no doubt now, Matthew had kissed his cock! Now he felt a small soft hand touching it, as his erection returned. This was beyond simple childish curiosity. There could be no going back now; something of a sexual nature was happening between them. Miles knew that the sweet, trusting and somewhat innocent relationship he had known with the child since his first day at Saint Xavier would change drastically. Was it a good thing? Was it what he really wanted? Did he have a choice?

As his erection grew, the hand left it and he hoped for the boy's lips to come to replace it again. Nothing of the sort happened, instead the boy's hands gently shook him, and he heard:

"Come on, wake up, you got a lot to do."

He opened his eyes and saw a beaming Matthew looking at him innocently as if nothing had taken place, as if those ruby lips had not touched his now raging cock.

"How long have we slept?" he asked, strangely relieved.

"Close to two hours. Everyone must be looking for you."

That ought to be true, thought Miles, who, before raising himself and dressing, embraced the child and put a chaste kiss on his sweet lips. Nothing more was said, everything left open for interpretation on both sides. Miles was rather happy that, for now, they kept a certain ambiguity to their relationship, although it now appeared certain that eventually, it would evolve into something else entirely.

He went to check if the inventory he had asked for had arrived on his desk.

***

"What do you mean, he's gone?" asked Carl.

"He's escaped, what else?" answered Shirley, angry with herself but mostly at everybody else.

"How can that be?" insisted Carl in the same tone.

"Are you dumb? He broke the bed frame and freed himself."

"You told me he was on drugs incapable of doing anything like that. Did anyone help him?"

Carl looked around and tried to calm down. The news was bad and he wanted to avoid attracting unwanted attention. So, it was with relief that he saw Dunn leaving the gymnasium, Louise had already gone, and there was no one else within earshot other than Greg.

"He was," Shirley had toned down, "I stopped giving them to him a few days ago."

"Why? You told me he was a goner."

Shirley did not know if she should answer that question.

"If you recall, we agreed to test Harvey. It wouldn't have been much of a test if he wasn't really there."

"True, but still, there was no need to take him completely off the drugs."

Carl knew the real intent behind it all: she wanted the boy to be aware of his imminent fate, witness the struggle for life, but now was not the time for recriminations.

"Well, that's of no importance now. To my knowledge, he's not shown himself to anyone yet. We may still have a chance to catch him before he does. Where do you think he'd go? Who were his friends? Greg?"

The boy had been listening with interest. Max was taking care of the inventory out of sight and out of earshot.

"Dunn? He could try to contact Dunn, who else?" suggested Greg.

"Why would he do that? It's very unlikely. Do not forget he's been with us for quite some time, long before we showed any open antagonism with the man. I doubt that many of the boys in this school know that we're somewhat on opposite sides. No, we must look elsewhere," affirmed Carl.

Greg, looking at Shirley, suggested, "A friend then? Did he say anything along that line during his time with you?"

"He wasn't allowed to talk, and most of the time, he could not string two words together."

"I know you've been close to him before that; he must have told you something about his friends. Someone from the swim team, perhaps, someone he was close to."

"No, nothing that I can recall. He was the star of the swim team but also a loner, that's one of the reasons we singled him out as a good candidate for Thorvald. What he talked about was his father, their fights, and sometimes his mother that left him last year."

"We're no closer to knowing where to look," concluded Carl.

"What should we do?" Shirley was sweating: she knew she was at fault.

"Gather your boys, those that are well aware of the situation. Tell them to look for Cole everywhere; they must not be too obvious about it, of course, use discretion. Greg, talk with a boy or two on the swim team, try to get relevant information about the boy. If you discover he had any close friends, have them watched."

"He was butt naked, he can't have gone very far without being spotted," said Shirley, hoping that fact could be of help.

"We don't want him to be spotted or found by anyone but us. Have the laundry watched: he'll certainly look for clothes. Didn't you leave someone to care for him while you were away?" added Carl casually, as if it was of no importance.

Shirley knew very well not to trust his apparent detachment.

"Greyson was responsible; he was supposed to check on him from time to time … I haven't found him yet."

"Do that. It could help us to know when he escaped." He kept a nonchalant tone, but he was furious; his day was not yet ruined, but it was close to it and it showed on his face.

"I'll have a word with him as soon as I've sent my boys after Cole." Shirley smiled: she might have found a scapegoat other than herself. If she played it well, she might be able to blame it all on that boy who was in for some bad times. Come to think of it; he could become the perfect replacement for Cole, Harvey would love that."

"Get to it, and by the way, don't tell Max anything."

"What do you want us to do with Cole when we find him?" asked Greg.

"Bring him back if you can, and anyone else you think he has been in contact with. Use any means necessary. I would prefer him alive, but that's not a requirement. He must not tell his story – ever!"

***

Rejuvenated by his nap, Miles was quite horny, how could it be otherwise? He was also proud and surprised by his ability to resist his baser urges with Matthew. He hesitated between going to Brett or to Sven to get what he had not obtained from Matthew, or, going straight to work.

Upon entering his office, the inventory on his desk made the decision for him. His duty to the boys he loved and the school had to come first. Anyway, it would take him no more than an hour, he estimated. He only had to decide what to use and where. After a quick look at the list, he started work.

The M2A1 machine guns came first. There were ten of them and with, he hoped, enough ammunition to face the horde. This was very welcome since they had used up almost all of their previous stock during the morning attack and rescue. He would tell Greg to assign boys to them and show those who had not been trained yet how they worked.

The two MK19 grenade launchers, which are most effective against infantry, have a 5-meter kill radius and fire 60 rounds a minute. It is also effective against light armor, but in this instance would be very effective facing large, compact groups of ferals and best used when mounted on the Humvees.

There are 10 crates of M4A1 carbines, which would be distributed to all the fighters as their weapon of choice, lightweight, mobile and adaptable; it would suit most purposes. They would be available in every house. Once again, the ammunition could be considered plentiful.

Then there were two crates of the M107 long-range sniper rifle. It would be given to their best shooters like Louise and Bob. It was capable of delivering precise fire on targets with an effective range of two thousand yards. It should be used in a defensive action or for an attrition effort from a safe distance.

In that same category, there was also one crate of M870 pump action 12 gauge shotguns but without ammunition. He could try to look for some elsewhere if given time, 12 gauge was common. These could be very useful at close range.

Next came three crates of handguns, two of the Beretta M9 and one of the Sig Sauer M17. They would be used as a last resort, again for close combat, and to that end, a number of bayonets and knives.

They found grenades, five crates of them, the M67 fragmentation grenade, and the ET-MP, multipurpose. He preferred to limit their use to a small number of the boys since he feared that they could be misused under stress. Still, it was good to have them.

Once done, his only concern was the ammunition: they had plenty for sure, but worried whether it was enough if the entire feral army descended on the school. While he was about certain now that they had the means to defend themselves much more effectively, he was convinced that the best strategy was to stop them before they reached the school, if possible, to lure them away from Saint Xavier. As he reviewed the inventory, he had taken enough notes to sketch the necessary instructions for Max and Greg to have everything in place in the next twenty-four hours. He needed to go check the explosives left in the trucks and see what they could do with them. There would be some training needed with each of the new weapons but all that would be for the next day. He provided notes to Carl, as he had requested.

Now, where could he find his boys?

***

Cole had remained in his hiding place, unable to move. There were too many comings and goings and he did not know who he could trust, a few names did come to mind, but he had to acknowledge that since his mother's departure, he had mostly kept to himself, creating a distance from his teammates and everybody else.

He had been deeply hurt and did not want to talk about it. Also, the fact that his father was a teacher at the school had always given him a particular status, which was why he had been such an easy picking for the nurse: he now understood; he was craving for attention. He looked with envy at the guns he saw on many of the boys' shoulders that passed in front of his hiding place. If he could get one, he would gladly pay a visit to a few people, Shirley and Fisher, first of all. It would be very tempting if he could get them together. If he tried only one, he was sure to be caught before getting to the other. His suicidal ideas were gone, replaced by a need for vengeance and he did not intend to become a kamikaze.

At least he was not cold even if with just the shirt he was wearing. It looked more and more likely that he would have to wait for nightfall to get what he needed. This was not good. He was certain that, by now, they knew he had escaped and were looking for him. He needed to grab a gun, some clothes, and be gone. His priority, above all else, was that they did not catch him again.

The big problem was that he had no idea where to go next. He had no family close by, and had there been any, it was doubtful they would still be alive. How was the world outside the school, he had no real idea, he just knew that it was very different from before and dangerous.

He was getting hungry and there were still quite a few hours until sundown. He saw Mister Dunn coming out of the administration building, look around, touch his crotch, and move on. The man had always been nice to him, told him he could come to him in case of need, but Could he still be considered reliable? He had seen him with Fisher earlier, both full of smiles and seemingly the best of friends.

What were his chances away from the school? It was scary to be on your own.

Could he lay low for a few days? He knew of a few hiding places on the campus. If he got food, clothes, and a weapon, he could hole up in one and wait before having to decide what to do next. Maybe he could try to speak with someone he thought he could trust, to better understand what was happening. True, they would try to catch him again, but it would not happen if he had a gun. That is, he would rather die and they would have to pay the price.

So many unknowns, it was dizzying like this new sense of freedom.

Here they were again; he had seen them pass by three times already, holding their guns and ready to use them, looking all around. Two of them he knew well, they had used him repeatedly; for the other two, he was not so sure. He had often been in a state of stupor, not really knowing what was going on or who was hurting him. They were definitely looking for something or someone, and who else but him!

He was taken by a sudden urge to stand up and run as fast and as far away from this place as he could, it took him all of his will and energy to regain control of his senses. Laying low, as close to the ground as possible, he was now seized by the fear that he had been seen – the nightmare was not quite over!

Chapter 28

Sergeant O'Malley had imagined several scenarios for a mass killing of the ferals gathered at the mall. He was tired of going at it one by one; there were too many of them.

Explosives were a possibility, but he did not know how to do it effectively. Those trucks on the parking lot probably had all he needed, but after the morning attack, it had become hopeless, ferals were all over the place. At one time, he had even tried to infiltrate different groups of them to see what was going on in the mall itself, but adopting the ferals' look and demeanor did not work. For some mysterious reason, he had not been able to fool them, and after three attempts, he abandoned the idea. It had been a dangerous experiment.

Then there were the captive boys held in there. He wanted to rescue them, but it seemed impossible. His crusade appeared futile, and he was becoming frustrated.

For two days now, he had been sniping at ferals from his rooftop position, observing their comings and goings at the main entrance to the mall, and the rare appearances of their captives. He watched the small column of smoke continuously escaping the mall, something that had intrigued him for some time. Empty shell casings littered the ground all around him. He was running low on ammunition and would have to return to his vehicle for more, but that was now risky after the attack. It was as if someone had kicked a hornet's nest, with the ferals spreading out everywhere, on high alert. Still, he had done a good job so far and probably killed or wounded close to two hundred of them, one at a time in different spots to avoid being noticed, the silencer and riflescope had been perfect for that.

The morning attack had been spectacular, and a total surprise. With the drones and the many kids on the front line, it had not been something easy to pull off and he certainly would like to meet the mastermind behind it all.

He reasoned there was nothing he could do for the poor boys in the mall, other than put them out of their misery with a bullet to the head, something he could not yet bring himself to do. Why did the ferals keep them? Despite the pitiful cries of one of them being raped against a wall by one of those creatures, sex could not be the reason. He had seen many ferals, male and female, having intercourse openly; they did not need boys for that. He did not think it was for food either. The rape had taken place after they had been gone for a few hours with a large group. Upon their return, the two boys held lighted torches, once again something that puzzled him: it made no sense during the day. He wanted to shoot the rapist but could not get a clear shot and was afraid of wounding the poor boy instead, but again, perhaps that was the thing to do: put an end to his misery.

Changing sides to get a clear view of the path back to the vehicle, he fired at the ferals in his field of view, methodically taking them out one at a time. By spacing out each shot and choosing isolated targets, he hoped to avoid drawing their attention and having more of them entering the area. So far, it worked. They were not completely stupid, but they were not too smart either. Once satisfied that it was clear of ferals, he removed the plank he had used to block the staircase door and opened it carefully. There were no ferals within sight; he could start his descent.

As he was about to rush to his car, some instinct or sixth sense stopped him, he glanced around and discovered that the ferals were on the move, they were going south, all of them, by the thousands, pouring out of the mall and buildings in the surrounding area. It was an unsettling and impressive sight. O'Malley, who had gone back to the roof, stunned, watched them for a good thirty minutes until only a few stragglers, most of them in bad shape, was left trying to catch up with the others.

Where the hell are they going? Why? He asked himself. It had been as sudden as it was incomprehensible.

***

Miles found the boys playing soccer. The whole bunch was there, Matthew and Bob, of course, but also Sven, William, the Edward twins, the Muller boys, Anthony, Johnny, Logan, Silvio, Lukas, Chad and Mikey Conner, Eric, Stuart and Brett too. He could see a few seniors watching on the side, Walt, Arthur, Mike, Melvin and also little Louis, Eric's sister Lisa and the dog, Ginger, some others that he did not know too well.

Soccer was a good way to relieve the stress of the morning. They were all back in athletic shorts, playing shirts against skins, a view that did nothing to diminish Miles' current sexual urges. Unfortunately, he found no acceptable way to interrupt the game and leave with Brett or Sven for the sought after relief.

Miles did not like it, but all he could think of right now was of a boy's smooth body and tight entrance. He looked around for Alex or any other club boys that he knew.

It was not to be. There was a pause in the game and Matthew came to him, topless, sweating, and smiling.

"Come play with us," he said, pulling him by the hand.

"I'm not too good with a ball," Miles answered, trying to find a way out while letting the boy lead him onto the field. Clearly, a refusal would not be accepted.

"Who cares? We're having fun. I want you on my team."

Likewise, Bob was recruiting Walt and Lukas, while Johnny was asking Eric and his sister Lisa to join the game.

Miles pulled off his tee-shirt. This was not what he had planned, but he was ready to make the best of the situation, his other needs would wait.

The game started in earnest, with Miles no match for most of the players. He had never been that good with his feet, being more of a baseball or football player, but surrounded by pretty boys, half of them wearing only shorts, greatly enhanced his enjoyment. He soon forgot his initial reluctance and was surprised to take pleasure in the game itself.

He watched his boys revert to a natural spontaneity that best fit their age. Considered just little boys only a few months ago, no one would have thought of giving them guns, having them risk their lives, and even less, kill anyone.

Walt and Bob, Mike and Lukas, Anthony and Mikey, openly showed their affection and intimacy. Those well-established couples did not attempt to hide their relationship; even a few lesser-known couples did so. On every occasion, there would be a caress, a kiss, or even some ass grabbing without any sign of embarrassment or awkwardness. That was something Miles still had difficulty doing in public. The boys had quickly adapted to the new environment, adopting the permissiveness favored by Carl, the exception being Mikey, who occasionally shied away from Anthony.

Miles did not feel capable of acting that way after a life spent in shame, hiding his feelings and desires. He still expected it to backfire at any moment. The apparent acceptance of this behavior among the boys astonished him and he wondered if it would last.

Sven did not have the same problems and like the others, came to him to openly show his affection. Matthew, not to be outdone, was seeking frequent contact, as he had done almost from the first day of their meeting at the airport, in an innocent way. Brett clearly wanted to follow suit but was not quite sure of how to do it.

Somehow Miles' urges had subsided, allowing him to enjoy the game and do his best to help his team win. With Matthew and Bob on different sides, the teams were evenly talented. Nothing was at stake but the need for simple enjoyment. Miles even suspected that Matthew and Bob, both experts, played below their best, allowing everyone some time with the ball. After two missed chances, he even managed to score himself. The reaction was immediate and spectacular as the enthusiastic team, together as one, came to congratulate him, with Matthew, Sven, and notably Brett, jumping on him, and then all together falling on the grass in a joyous heap of bodies, soon joined by the others.

The game went on for more than an hour and the whole party ended at the Bear House showers, in an atmosphere of cheerful fellowship, with the bonds between the small group of boys, the teens, and the man stronger than ever.

Surrounded by beautiful naked boys, Miles' previous disposition returned with lurid images of sex invading his mind, the blood surging into his straightening member. He was not the only one. A few boys were proudly displaying tumescent young organs or even openly making out. Confronted by death this morning, they now celebrated life. Eros and Thanatos intimately linked the eternal circle of life.

Not all were responding to that call though, and they looked at the others with a mix of curiosity, mockery, or indifference, William and Johnny among them.

Sven, noticing the change of mood, came to Miles for a kiss. Miles tried to turn away from the others for intimacy, but it was impossible in such a place. Their room was close by, so he took the boy by the hand. They would be there in no time. A willing Brett on the way seized his other hand with a smile, his cocklet at half-mast.

A strange look crossed Matthew's face as he watched them leave. Miles wondered if it was one of longing. He thought the answer would come soon but did not feel ready for it yet.

Walt and Bob, Lukas and Mike, hand in hand, were following their example with enthusiasm, leaving behind those that had not yet been touched by the same fever.

Miles and the boys grabbed their clothes on the way, not bothering to put them on, and once inside the room, they threw them in a heap on the chair, let go of the sneakers and rushed to the bed.

With hands and mouth full of boy, Miles closed his eyes to concentrate on enhancing the experience. He was simply enjoying the contact with the smooth skin, the textures, the moving shapes, and the erotic scent. Who or what he was dealing with did not matter, the feelings were primal, intense, and overwhelming.

The boys seemed as affected as he was, pushing their bodies against him as if they wanted to merge with him, offering all they had, abandoning themselves to his will. Even the less experienced Brett showed his enthusiasm and excitement.

His member, hard as a rock, was leaking, craving release, rubbing itself on a hip or belly, leaving traces on the satiny skin. Miles opened his eyes as he felt the larger of the two bodies in his arms slide down. He saw Sven's blond head pause for a few seconds at his midsection as the boy contemplated the task ahead, then he put out his pink tongue and licked at the glans, not afraid of the thick goo running down its side. His mouth open wide, he gulped it down with determination, moving beyond the head, taking as much of the large member as he could with some wet sounds while rubbing its base, or playing with the hairy balls underneath.

Brett was observing him wide-eyed, probably wondering how it was possible. It was certainly exciting but also intimidating. At least, he thought, this ought not to be painful, unlike the other one up the butt.

With his member encased in the boy's throat, its hot walls tightening, Miles knew he could not hold out much longer and decided to climax right away. After the first orgasm, he would be able to slow things down to fully appreciate and share in the delights to come. A few jabs were all that was necessary in that hot and wet orifice for him to explode and send several jets of thick sperm onto the boy's palate.

Sven, now accustomed to the man's emissions, swallowed most of it, but some still flowed back slipping from his mouth.

"Messy," exclaimed Brett, looking on with interest and wonder. "How does it taste?"

"Want to try it?" asked Sven, scooping some from his chin and bringing it toward the younger boy's mouth.

"Not just yet," answered Brett, with a slight recoil. "Don't know if I'm ready for that."

"It's alright; you're here to enjoy yourself. You can do it at your own pace, there's no obligation to anything," said Miles, kissing his lips and patting his rump.

Miles resolved to make it as easy for the boy as he could, conscious that unlike Sven, Brett had not initially sought sex with him. Therefore, he did not want to impose acts that would make him feel uncomfortable. Developing and discovering Brett's own preferences would be Miles' next goal. He planned to use the attraction the two boys had for each other to break the ice with the younger boy, this, at least, was his intention, but would he be able to contain his rising cravings for the boy. One of his hands had not left Brett's endearing right butt cheek: this was to be his prize of the day, which he had coveted for quite some time.

"Brett, would you like to try what Sven just did? My cock would love the touch of your sweet lips. That would put it back in shape in no time while I get Sven's ass ready. Or perhaps you would prefer to do it with Sven's stick? I can understand that it can be much less intimidating."

"Yes, let's do that!" enthused Sven, presenting his slim but very firm tool with just a touch of clear precum on the tip.

"Why not?" Brett answered with a little smile. Indeed, Sven's cocklet looked like a much easier undertaking than Miles' monster, and far less intimidating, to say the least.

Miles and Sven exchanged a look of complicity. The boy, like the man, was finding the situation perfectly arousing. It appeared more and more that little Brett had two suitors instead of one.

"Let's do it right. You'll suck on Sven while he sucks on me and me on you."

"Is there a name for that? It's sixty-nine with two, but what is it called when there are three?" asked Sven candidly.

"Funny, never thought of that, you can call it whatever you want or do some research later."

They swiftly took their place, with Miles observing Brett tentatively bringing his lips close to Sven's uncut dick, only to pull back at the last moment and use his hand to squeeze out a pearl of clear liquid from the slit onto his finger. Realizing his two partners were watching him, he finally got bold, putting the finger in his mouth with a small grimace that soon disappeared, replaced by relief.

"Doesn't taste that bad, just a bit salty," he said as an excuse and bent over to slip his lips over the tip. He pulled back again to bring his fingers forward and play with the foreskin. Brett was circumcised like Miles and most of the Americans at the school. Sven, as a European had been left intact, he obviously enjoyed the sensation of the boy's fingers and mouth, it was said that glans in that configuration were more sensitive. Perhaps as much as Miles, he also liked observing Brett's reactions in this situation, thus giving the man's organ perfunctory attention.

Miles flaccid state did not last, he not only had the task of taking care of the virgin boy's little morsel but was in the ideal position to take advantage of the longed-for firm butt under his hand. This, combined with the highly attractive and well-shaped thighs, had been the boy's most striking assets when he had first seen him in the showers.

Damn! He really wanted to bury himself between those twin mounds and the boy did not seem to mind having them stroked and kneaded or his little pucker grazed by a finger. Even without the help of Miles' stimulating lips, his stick was standing straight and proud, twitching a bit when kissed or rubbed.

Captured by the hard morsel now in his mouth, Brett's attention focused on different ways to handle it. As a good pupil, he put his hands to work, diligently imitating what he had seen earlier.

Miles decided to move up a gear using all the experience he had gained recently to bring him to climax a few times. Multiple orgasms were the prerogative of a boy his age.

His practice with Sven and others had now made him an expert, and no doubt, what worked for them would work for Brett. Generously slicking down one finger with saliva, he pushed forward on the boy's ring while putting his tongue and lips to work on the twitching cocklet. Meanwhile, his other hand played with the child's small marbles or brushed the smooth and sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The results were not long coming.

There were some squirming and flailing of his slender legs and arms, soft moaning escaping his sweet lips, his green eyes were half-closed as the pleasure mounted and invaded his young body. Miles felt the pricklet spasm once, but he did not stop his ministration as he now let one digit enter the tight and virgin opening.

As Brett was recovering from his dry orgasm, Miles began exploring the boy's hot, moist canal, searching for the little nub he knew was there. He soon found it and started stimulating it, bringing the child to a second, then third climax. Each one more arresting than the last with more moaning, trembling, shaking, flailing of limbs, and expressions of extreme pleasure. It took Brett a few moments to come back to earth, a contented look on his face with Sven's prick moving lewdly in and out of his half-open mouth. The older boy observing the scene, well aware what his lover's intentions were.

"I had forgotten how good it was," said Brett, between mouthfuls.

Miles hesitated, Did he want to be mounted? He had said nothing of the finger that was still inside him, held tightly by the boy's sphincter. For sure, it would need more loosening.

Sven was getting there too, rubbing the base of his dick and letting go of some clear fluid straight into Brett's mouth, who had resumed his efforts to bring pleasure to his friend.

"Here it goes!" exclaimed the boy as he watched Brett try to swallow his small load and succeed, "Now let's shift, you must be ready for the real thing by now."

It seemed he had decided for the three of them as he pointed to Miles' restored erection. Miles was not opposed to having the boy's sweet lips wrapped around his cock head, and Brett showed no more apprehension: he was learning fast and liking all of it so far.

They all settled comfortably, Miles taking hold of Sven's still hard cocklet while observing Brett take his own, much bigger tool in hand and setting out to find the best way to accomplish what was expected of him. After a close round of inspection of Miles cockhead, he plunged mouth first, figuring the best way would be learning by experience.

"Watch your teeth," was Sven's only counsel.

His first attempts were far from perfect but nonetheless delightful to the man. The boy sent him frequent glances to know how he was performing. The view of Miles's large cock sticking out of the boy's mouth, pushing against his cheek and deforming it, his expectant stares were priceless. Miles did not interfere much, one hand resting on the child's blond head playing with his silky hair. There was no attempt to force a passage down the boy's throat–that would require some practice. Like earlier, most of the attention was on Brett, the other two operating on autopilot.

Sven clearly appreciated taking care of the boy's nether regions; he had replaced Miles' finger by two of his own and divided his attention between Brett's throbbing dicklet and the boy's superb mounds, between kisses, letting his lips course on their smooth and delicate skin.

Was he going to adopt Anthony's ways and find a liking for boys? Wondered Miles with a smile.

His erection fully restored, the man felt his juices rise again, he feared it would be too much to come in Brett's mouth as it had been for Sven. He also did not want to miss the opportunity of deflowering the child's charming behind, knowing that he expected to have no more than one or two shots left in reserve to achieve it.

"You're doing great Brett, now what do you say if we tried the other thing now?" He knew he was skipping stages but could not resist his urges.

"The other thing?"

All three had paused their actions.

"Yes, I'll need to loosen you, but I'm sure you can do it. You saw how good it could feel with just one finger, even two of Sven's. Shall we try that?"

"Let me do him first as Anthony did with me," demanded Sven, "I'll stretch him and show him how good it can be, and you can do me at the same time."

"That, I don't mind," Brett's acceptance was immediate; he seemed even rather eager to oblige.

The same ploy had been used a second time and had worked. Certainly, Sven's tool was nothing compared to the man's organ at full mast.

Miles, as he opened the tube of KY, had a sudden bout of anguish, fighting with a feeling of doubt and culpability. It was not love: it was pure lust that led him. Did he really care about Brett? Was he ready to use any means he found necessary as long as he got what he wanted? He knew there was some truth in that. He had not changed that much; he was just cleverly using the opportunities offered by this end-of-the-world situation. Even Matthew was now on his list. All the principles he had endorsed and put forward in his discussions with Carl were alibis that let him do the things that he should not do.

Still, he could not stop. As he applied the lube to Sven's cocklet and then Brett's ring, pushing some of it inside, bewitched by the tight, moist opening, the heat and smoothness of its walls–his lust did not falter, on the contrary, he had to battle with himself not to take Sven's place right away.

Reason came back to him when he lubed himself and Sven's pucker. Both boys were excited and fully aroused by the coming event, touching and kissing each other. They were more than willing to go ahead. The atmosphere was joyous. They were not street boys forced to sell their bodies to some stranger in a car. These boys were more intelligent than most and not that gullible.

I'm certainly not the perfect guy, I try to manage with my strengths and flaws, my demons as many would say, and perhaps I can do better than most. Why can't I completely shake off that veil of shame? Why do I have to feel guilty for who I am? My desires. My thoughts are mine. It is how I act upon them that will define me.

This reaction has been deeply rooted in his soul since he had been aware of his sexual orientation in his teen years. His relationship with Sven was now mostly free of it, but it had the potential of coming back with a vengeance from time to time.

"Is everybody set?" asked Sven, showing his impatience, his glans rubbing his designated target. Brett was on all fours, ass up, ready to receive him. Miles chased these unpleasant thoughts from his mind to concentrate on the boys and his own pleasure; nothing else had importance at that moment.

"All set," announced Brett with a small nervous laugh. Perhaps, he was not so sure of himself in the end but could not back off.

"Go ahead, Sven. Let me see how you do it." True, as far as Miles could recall, the boy had always been on the receiving end.

"Tell me if it hurts, Brett, I'll pull back right away," warned Sven, repeating what he had been told himself not so long ago.

The boy answered with a nod of the head, bracing himself.

"Relax, Brett, there's nothing to fear," said Miles, in position behind Sven, his own rod rubbing on the boy's crack. Sven studied the glistening rosebud in front of him, nestling between the two pert cheeks for a moment, and then applying the right amount of force, his thin shaft slipped in and slowly disappeared to the hilt.

"Ohhh," murmured Brett as Sven himself let out a small cry of surprise and contentment. Miles could not tell which one was the more thrilled.

Miles knew he needed to bury himself in Sven's familiar chute immediately. Despite his length and girth, the boy had no difficulty accepting all of him with minimal pain. The man grunted as he bottomed after thrusting three or four times forward, his arms enveloping both boys. They all crashed on the bed well embedded in each other, Miles initiating the rhythm of the fuck. Slow and steady with the occasional acceleration.

Brett was crushed under their combined weight but strangely found it a rather agreeable and secure sensation, mixed with the grinding at his back and the weird feeling that mounted from his bowels.

"You okay down there?" asked Miles.

"Okay, but I can hardly breathe."

"Sorry, my fault."

Miles, keeping hold of the boys and careful not to dislodge the erect organs, pulled everyone to the side and then over him, relishing the feel of the shifting bodies coming with him. With some difficulty, and not wanting to force out the boys, he got into a half-seated position against the headboard from where he could easily control the action, placing a few pillows behind his back for comfort.

He had the boys slide skin to skin over him and each other, keeping in rhythm with his regular upward thrusting. With their heads to each side of his and turned toward him, he began kissing them one after the other, watching their expressions. Lips kissed lips, while tongue wrestled tongue, one-on-one and sometimes all three together.

He felt his juices rising again but did not want to come yet, waiting, wishing for Sven to suggest another shift again.

***

It had to happen, and it did. As Greg rightfully feared, the stubble on his chin was not sufficient to avoid being recognized. As soon as the boy saw him up close, there were clear signs that he knew he was his abductor and rapist.

They were face to face, Greg having just entered the restroom and William about to leave it. What was the boy doing in the administration building wondered the senior? He certainly was not alone. Keeping his calm and after a look around, he seized the little boy by the neck and drove him into the first open stall closing the door behind them.

Now came the moment of truth. What was he going to do with that kid? So many ideas where popping into his head

The little blond looked as innocent as the first time, but there was a clear look of fear in his eyes. He had neither shed a tear, tried to escape, nor shouted for help. He was looking straight at Greg, frozen in place, like an animal caught in car headlights.

"What shall I do with you? Tell me? How lucky there's no one around. So cute still, what a waste, Carl would have loved to get to know you."

His first thoughts were to get rid of the brat without leaving any trace: an accident, a sudden death–from natural causes. He checked his pocket; unfortunately, the plastic bag was not there. This would have been the occasion to finally finish the job while getting a fantastic kick from it. Asphyxiating the kid would indeed leave no trace. His cock twitched in his pants at the mere thought, but to his surprise, he found himself horrified by it at the same time.

A fall? Knocking his head on the floor. Unlikely. He could put his head in the toilet and drown him, or simply use his hands to strangle him or break his neck, which appeared so fragile. He always had a blade in his belt beside his gun: he could gut him. Who would know it was him? It could be anyone. No one would call the police, and there were no more CSI

He had to decide. Do something. His time was running out.

"I… I… I won't tell."

The kid had spoken.

"What did you say?"

"I won't tell. You can … let me go?"

"Why would I do that? Why would I trust you?" Greg had brought his face inches from the kid's face.

"I… don't know. Because…"

Greg smiled.

"That's a bit short for an argument. Such a sweet little boy but not much of a brain it seems."

Greg, deep down, knew he had already lost. He really did not want to kill the kid, not now, not before, not later. Was it that kid in particular, he was not sure yet.

"Can I go?" The fear had left the kid's eyes. Had he felt the change in Greg? It could be. Was he playing stupid to save his life?

"Will? Are you still in there? Come out now; don't make me wait any longer." A woman's voice, Miss Simons. The boy's name had been shortened to avoid any confusion with the other William, the senator's son.

Causa finita, thought Greg, finding back his Latin. There was nothing he could do.

"I'll have to trust you, boy, but be warned if I hear that you talked, that you said a single word about what happened. I'll come for you and it will be ugly."

Greg pulled his hand away from the boy's neck, checked that he looked all right, and came out of the restroom with him.

"Miss Simons, what a pleasure. It's all my fault, I just got to know this young man and he was very curious about my gun. You know how they are at that age; I could not refuse him. He is so cute."

Louise looked at him, surprised, and then at the boy.

"Will, he didn't touch you? Did he? Tell me." Louise looked daggers at Greg.

"Miss Simons! How can you say such things? I'm not like that and I have more than I can handle already in that department, as you certainly know. This one is a bit young, too."

"Will?"

"No, Miss Simons, he did not. He just showed me his gun, that's all, like he said. What else could there be?"

"Very well, let's go." Louise took the boy's hand, but after taking a few steps, she turned around, "Accept my apology, Greg, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted, Miss Simons, everyone is a bit tense these days. So long, young man, I'm sure we'll meet again." Greg definitely thought there was more than met the eye in that boy and his interest was piqued.

***

Burt was smoking a cigar; he had found a large stock of them in a drawer and taken a strong liking to them, notably after sex. Esteban was in his lap and Raoul by his side, sperm leaking from his well-serviced chute. It had been one more memorable romp with those two. The sun, as always, was shining outside, the French doors were open, and he could hear the boys still playing in the pool. What could be better? No more work and only sex, it was paradise! Who would have guessed it would have turned out that way for him.

There was a knock on the door. He frowned slightly and said:

"Come in."

"Sorry to interrupt you, Burt, I would like to show you something," said Margarita, indifferent to the scene that had taken place that reeked of sex.

"Can't it wait?"

"I don't think so."

"Ah well, we were about done here," he said, giving a gentle slap on Raoul's bum, "Get off me, my love," he said to Esteban with a kiss on the cheek, "and let's go see what your sister wants to show us."

"We need to go upstairs," said the girl.

"Upstairs? Let me put something on my shoulders then." Nakedness was not a problem around the house since they had arrived at the villa, but old habits die-hard. The two boys, curious, followed still in their birthday suit.

They went up the stairs and came to the large balcony where Margarita handed Burt a small pair of binoculars.

"What am I supposed to look for?"

"Look on the horizon and you'll get your answer."

Burt's eyes were not that good; he hated glasses and could not wear contact lenses: an allergy said the doctor, but the binoculars left no doubt. All along the horizon was smoke; you could even see flames, some taller than the trees.

His arms holding the binoculars fell and his shoulders slumped. It was miles away, but it was coming this way and now that he had seen it, he thought he could smell smoke in the air. He looked at the beautiful scenery all around the house and the many tall trees. If that fire reached here, there would only be cinders after its passage. Dread seized him. His new life was crumbling before his eyes. His stay in Paradise was not going to last that long.

He looked at the trees again. Thank god, there was little to no wind; with luck, they had time to prepare.

"When did you first see it? Margarita."

"Yesterday."

"Was it much farther away?"

"Honestly, I don't really know, a bit further. It's definitely closer today, that's for sure," she added.

He had no idea how much time they had left. One could always hope that the fire would die down or change direction, but he very much doubted it. Something of such magnitude would keep going and burn everything in its path. Even if there were still firemen to fight it, he guessed they would not be able to stop it. He looked up at the blue sky and did not see a cloud in sight; looking down, he saw the many brown and dried patches of lawn everywhere. It had not rained for weeks, if not months.

"Do you know how to drive a car," he asked the girl.

"I never got a license."

"That will do."

"Esteban, gather everybody downstairs."

Burt was not sure of anything but did not want to take chances, and made his decision impulsively, out of instinct more than reason. If they had to leave, they would take as much of the food as they could with them. If he was wrong, they could always come back later.

***

The fire was like a living creature born in hell, consuming everything in its path, always hungry, always growing. It had started two days before, with kids wanting to smoke cigarettes for the first time and throwing away the butts carelessly in some bushes. They had been lucky, they had been on the right side of the wind, and the fire ignored them and started its journey sending its tendrils southeast.

Life had been easy for it, no one, nothing had tried to smother it, and nature had welcomed it with open arms, with every blade of grass, every leaf, branch, and tree, dry and easy to ignite. It had grown fast and soon became a monster helped by a strong wind that sent ahead ashes and flaming debris of all kinds. It had already engulfed many people, cars, barns, houses, farms and whole towns. It seemed nothing would stop it but the sea.

Thousands now fled ahead of it, with a few hundred caught behind its wall of flames, taken by surprise or too slow to escape, leaving only blackened bones. The ferals had been the first alerted, with their newfound animal instinct helping them. They took to the road ahead of everyone: one more deadly menace to the survivors of the flu running away from this new threat.

The wind abated somewhat and its march forward slowed, but the intensity it had reached was not diminished, giving only a small respite to those it had spared.

***

The first alert came from the north wall and shortly after that, the first people fleeing the fire started arriving. Called to the wall, the doc observed with dread the wall of smoke on the horizon. It was also at that moment that the first feral attacks started. Fortunately, they were sporadic and disorganized. Most of the groups did not stop and simply skirted the town.

The doc held a crisis meeting in the next hour. The stories of those that had taken refuge behind their walls left no illusion. The fire was coming their way and large hordes of ferals were preceding it.

The alternatives were few. Stay and hope that the flames would change direction and skirt them like most of the ferals had done. Leave and abandon all they had built and preserved so far. Take to the road with no clear destination and permanent danger from ferals.

No one had any experience with firefighting nor what their chances were if they stayed and tried to save their town. They certainly did not have the necessary amount of water, nor any experience using the few fire trucks in town. This was not a small brush fire: it was a tsunami of flames headed their way that could easily overwhelm them.

On the other hand, the occasional gunshots coming from all sides reminded them that their best chance might not be in leaving.

So, they prepared to fight the fire and also to evacuate in case they were unable to stop it burning down the town.

***

Miles was thrusting away, but he had not yet reached his goal of possessing Brett. What a strange obsession when he had Sven, Anthony, and quite a few others at his disposal. Was it human nature never to be satisfied? Was it the pent up frustration of the many past years?

The two boys lying down on the bed were now facing him, their entwined legs on his shoulders. The battle of tongues had resumed, the new position making it much easier. He could now fully satisfy Sven, who loved the unrelenting pounding of his hole by the man's thick pole.

Sven's body shuddered from the pounding as he climaxed twice, sending small spurts of clear fluid up Brett's tight opening.

Miles had now abandoned any idea of holding back and was readying for a second orgasm. He did not doubt that he would have the resources for a third and perhaps fourth one later: those two boys were the epitome of his desires, and nothing would stop him.

Brett was a delight and responding to the stimulation perfectly. He was also ticklish, which made some of his reactions unpredictable. His armpits and the soles of his feet were the most sensitive. He had the cutest feet one could wish for: perfectly proportioned, with lovely well-defined toes that Miles had brought to his mouth a few times to kiss and lick. Brett's giggles and spasms were enchanting Sven and bringing new sensations to his well-embedded dicklet. Brett did not really attempt to escape their assaults, he was under the spell of this new experience, embracing the sensations that his body delivered in total contrast to his customary mental adventures, but no less pleasurable.

"Stop, please stop, it's too much," he was exclaiming when his tone said the contrary.

"Why would we stop? It appears to me you're lovin' all of it. Don't you think, Sven?" Miles' mouth had just left the boy's left nipple, but his pounding continued.

"Totally, and I love being inside him. Love what he does with his butt when I tickle him." The boy kissed and licked his friend's ear as he pronounced these words in an alluring sign of affection.

"And what about you, Sven, are you ticklish? Let's see if it can work with you," said Miles, playing with his fingers on the child's sides, testing his armpits with some results, but it could not compare with Brett's response.

"I'm ticklish but far less than Brett; you should know that by now. You'll have to put it in Brett to experience it."

Miles wondered how much of that answer was intentional; Sven knew how much he wanted to enter the boy. Again, it was a notion that made little sense in itself, what difference did it make? Why did his lovemaking have to include this practice to feel complete?

"Well, Brett, what do you say? It seems we got … to the moment of … truth," he uttered. That simple idea brought Miles over the edge. He came, sending powerful jets of cum deep into Sven's colon.

"You mean now?" asked Brett innocently, not waiting for Miles to catch his breath.

"Can't see … a better … time." Miles' hand gave a squeeze to the boy's hard cocklet.

"I'm not quite sure yet, isn't it a bit too soon?" said the boy with red on his cheeks, settling once and then twice on Sven's slender stick, as if to weigh his answer.

"You seem quite comfortable this way."

Squeezing out some lube, Miles' hands moved down, exploring and stimulating the base of Sven's dickie, which responded with a light moan. Then following the hard and pulsating stem, he pushed one finger up to see if he could make room for it as he gently kissed Brett.

"See, there's still room for more." Miles' finger slipped in, rubbing against Sven's young pole and stretching Brett's opening, "How does it feel?"

"Strange, but rather nice, in fact."

Against Miles' finger, Sven was climaxing one more time. The impaled boy and the man felt the throbbing of the slender cocklet and its discharge.

"Come on, let me try," Miles pleaded, as a second finger tried to join the first one without success.

What if Brett refuses me? Wondered Miles, What would I do? Would I accept the boy's decision? Would I use my adult authority and influence to get what I want?

Miles, honestly, wasn't quite sure. At that moment, he questioned his true feelings for the boy, was it pure lust that drove him or was there more? He felt Sven's presence was one safeguard; with him, nothing too bad could happen. He was so close to reaching his goal, and when he felt Brett's sphincter clamping on his finger, his state of arousal went into overdrive. His shaft spent but still in place in Sven's sheath was hardening again, eager to discover new territories.

Miles pulled his finger out of Brett's butt as Sven did the same with his dickie, making way for the man to achieve his long sought after goal. Brett's consent was all that stood in the way. He would become the second virgin boy he had deflowered. In his mind, he still considered him a virgin, since Sven's length and girth was nothing like his own.

This deed would require some care and perseverance – the first time is always more exciting. Sven had been hesitant but demanding from the start, taking the initiative and asking for sex, whatever the cost. Miles had to push away a little voice in his head that told him to take his pleasure, whatever the consequences.

Using force had its appeal: the boy would have to accept it. What choice did he have? To whom could he complain? The ambivalence was there, always. Having sex with these boys was wrong; anyway, the difference in sizes showed it clearly enough. That implied Miles' desire took precedence and was being imposed on Brett. The fever was on, was it Carl's voice he was hearing? No, it was his own, that he had listened to for years until he came to Saint Xavier and learned it could work differently, but old habits die hard.

Out of lust, his avid hands seized Brett's generous thighs, pulling him forward and toward his rigid member that was now poised at the entrance, his sticky and slick glans coated with the sperm spent in Sven's chute pushing against the pink flesh of Brett's pucker, striving to find a way in.

"Not so fast," said the boy, his hands in a defensive posture to stop him going further.

"I'll be gentle, don't you worry. I really want it." Miles slowly but steadily increased the pressure while pushing the child's hands away and bending down to kiss him.

"I'm sure you'll like it," encouraged Sven, caressing the boy's smooth chest and rubbing a thumb on his nipple. "Just relax and let us do the work."

He was holding Brett and comforting him. To Miles' surprise, he definitely intended to have an active role in the child's final seduction and appeared quite under the spell of the charming boy himself, his erection still prominent.

Brett felt he did not have much leeway under the circumstances and no other choice than to accept what was offered.

"I'll tell you if it hurts," he said as a last resort to calm his apprehension. He trusted them but understood that emotions and desires were not the easiest to restrain.

Indeed, all Miles could think of at this moment was bursting through the boy's ring of flesh and fuck him with all the force he could muster, something he could not do but something his primal instincts demanded.

"It will probably hurt some at first, as Sven told you: it's the way it is." Miles had seen the first signs of discomfort on the boy's face as he tried to force his entry, so he changed his strategy. Instead of exerting a constant pressure, he alternated with a series of small shoves forward to gain more ground, it was not very effective, and he slipped twice on the greasy surface, halting any progress.

"It's not working," said Brett, amused and perhaps a bit relieved.

"No, it seems it will take some time or some pain. Are you up to it?" Miles wanted to hear a yes. These situations resonated strongly for him; he felt compelled to go forward when his reason told him to pull back.

Brett turned toward Sven.

"How was it when he did it to you that first time?"

"I'm not going to lie, it really did hurt, but I also really wanted it, which helped me get through it."

"Yes, perhaps that's the best way, force it in, and then let you get used to it, that's how it went for Sven." It had been, by far, Miles' most pleasurable experience that he hoped to renew with Brett, forgetting, for a moment, that it had brought remorse and stopped him from doing it again until Sven asked for it.

"Let's do it then."

In the end, it was as simple as that, Brett lifting his legs and offered himself. Miles was in position in seconds but took the time to spread some more lube on his cock and the child's pucker, introducing as much of it as he could. He kissed Sven, who was rubbing himself on the child's flawless skin, and then Brett as he guided his member to find the best angle.

"All set?"

The boy nodded.

Sven was massaging Brett's open inner thighs, and his flat belly, attempting to relax his tensed muscles, to revive his downed cocklet. Was the usually gentle and kind boy considering this a necessary initiation?

Miles bent forward again, but this time ready to put his whole weight in the balance. The ring had been stretched somewhat by the previous attempts but not enough to let him pass through.

Alarm bells were suddenly ringing.

No! It could not be!

He felt he was running out of control, if he did not stop it right now, the worst was possible. All the cravings he had chased away were back with a vengeance.

In his mind, he had a flash of images, thoughts, sensations, of what might follow if he did not stop here and now:

He grabbed Brett's hands to hold them in place beside the child's ankles, pinning him, helpless as he felt the spasms of the tight sphincter that tried to expel his invading member. It was a wonderful sensation for him but certainly hell for the poor Brett, who had freed one hand now clamped on his mouth to stifle his cries of pain. He should have stopped immediately, it was madness to continue, but he took advantage of every moment to bury himself further until he was sure he would not be dislodged. Only then did he stop to let the boy's hot canal get used to his gorged member. He hated himself for it, but another part of him loved the sensation of asserting force and dominance.

Horrified, Miles pushed away those images and ideas. This was his old self, it had occurred long ago, in the Philippines, and he would not let it happen again.

Between breaths, Brett simply said:

"Go ahead, I can take it; if Sven did, I can."

"Yes, I know, but there's no need for that. I'm sorry. I'm not gonna do it, not like that," he said haltingly as he pulled back.

He bent forward again, this time to drown the child's face with kisses; he was abandoning his attempt to enter the boy. Miles knew he had done it all wrong; he should have delayed taking his pleasure that way, prepared the boy better. It had been rushed and botched work. This was not what he wanted anymore.

"What are you doing?" asked Brett, at once relieved and disappointed.

"You're not ready; you don't really want to do it. Sorry, it's my fault I have been too eager."

The two boys were looking at him, surprised.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Brett.

"No, you did nothing wrong; I am the one at fault here. You're a lovely boy, and I've let my desire for you to overcome my reason. I know I am imposing myself on you – that you don't really want to do it."

"I don't understand," said Sven, "that's part of the deal, you do things for us and we do things for you. What's wrong with that?"

"It's complicated." Miles could guess the boy's reasoning: Sven didn't know the urges that were at work. A lot of it was still a game for him; he had not been subjected to years and years of bashing, marked as scum by media and politics, the perfect scapegoat that no one dared to defend. Miles felt a strong underlying resentment, which he had some difficulty containing and often resulted in aggressive lovemaking. He was afraid to yield to it again with Brett as the outlet. He did not want to hurt him in any way and would wait until he was certain that all the precautions had been taken, mental as well as physical. The struggle was won, and he was back in control. Was it love or desire that drove him, he was certain of the second, but it would not affect the way he behaved with all the boys he met in the future.

***

Roy Neary lowered his binoculars. They had been lucky, they were too far east to be impacted by the fire, and this one was really something out of a nightmare. From his position, on a small hill, he could see the flames, some of them at least fifty feet high or more. He estimated there were two fire fronts that had converged together to create that monster, but he could be wrong. What did he know about forest fires anyway?

"Let's hope the wind doesn't change direction and turn our way; it was close," said Red, beside him.

"We're gonna have to watch it closely. Seems some of the more promising targets are right in its path. Ain't gonna be nothing left for us if that thing hits."

"Yep, that'll reduce any town to a heap of ashes."

It was certainly a problem. Roy had wanted to use the camp they found as a base. If everything to the west of them was lost to the fire, it reduced their opportunities for plunder and limited their choices when it came to establishing a more permanent settlement.

"There's nothing else we can learn here. Let's go back to camp and see if the feral activity has gotten any better."

They walked back to the Humvee, guarded by two of their men. The fire had flushed out all the surviving population in its path: one would not have believed there were still so many people around. The ferals had become restless and as aggressive as ever, while perhaps less organized, and seemed to be panicking like everyone else. It was certain they did not like fire, that much had been verified many times during the cruel shows organized by Red these last weeks.

"Take a look at this," said Roy, as he crumbled a few dry leaves in his hand, "Been no rain for months. I've never seen anything like that before. What a show! Shame about Okatie, it's right in the path of the fire, we could have made it ours."

"We'll find another; there's plenty."

They had taken quite a few prisoners fleeing the flames earlier in the day and were warned by them of the oncoming danger; now it was time to see what they could do with them.

***

Burt had organized a watch: he did not want to be surprised. The two vehicles were ready and packed with as much food as they could carry. Everything he could think of was in there. He planned to leave the next day if the situation had not changed and if the fire was coming closer. Watching the sky that reflected the inferno below on the horizon, he feared it would be his last night in paradise and he planned to make it a memorable one. Champagne, found in the basement, would flow freely and in abundance and everyone would have his share; the night was to end with all his boys with him in the same bed with the addition of Margarita if she agreed.

He had never had the occasion to participate in a real orgy and this day would be the day for it. What would happen after that, he had no idea. Going back to his house was out of the question, it was also destined to burn not long after this one. They needed to run ahead of the fire or go behind it, but he had no idea how to accomplish that. With the whole skyline in flames, it seemed impossible. They might go south toward the sea or go east; there were a lot of canals and lakes that way; perhaps that would be enough to stop the fire, or perhaps it would die down by itself.

One name that kept coming back to him though was Saint Xavier. Could they go there? It could be the first stop before going further. Perhaps they had the means to stop that fire; perhaps it would change direction. Perhaps they could join them in their flight, being part of a large group would provide protection. He had not heard of any other such community and the world was a dangerous one even without that damn fire.

The children were still enjoying the pool; he could hear their shouts and laughter. As he went to join them, he could smell the smoke, stronger than before. Even from such a distance, the fire was announcing its coming.

***

Brett was contemplating the pros and cons.

He felt the man's trouble; he had been warned there could be some pain. He liked the marine, loved what they had done together, so far. The feelings were great when they rubbed that mysterious spot down there, how good it was! Still, he was no girl, and he was not gay. At least he did not think so even if he had let Sven do it to him; you could call it dirty too, but what about the blowjob? Miles' cock was so big! He trusted the man and Sven, wanted to please him, make him happy. He might not like it, but he could always try.

"I want to do it," he said, his voice not faltering.

Miles did not answer right away. Lost in his thoughts, his hands were caressing the backs of the two beautiful boys by his side,

"I said, I want to do it," Brett repeated, grabbing Miles' quiescent member to revive it.

"What? No…" said Miles, trying to push away the idea again, not the hand, "you're not ready for it."

"I am ready, as ready as can be, as ready as I'll be tomorrow or the day, or week after that. I trust you to do it right and I want to know what it feels like."

Miles exchanged a glance with Sven, who seemed to approve.

"It's late, we don't have the time," he said, "We can do it later; they'll be waiting for us in the dining hall."

"Let's do it now, please." Brett had made his decision but wasn't sure he would not change his mind later.

Miles could not let the opportunity pass–it would be done right this time. Carl could wait.

The preparations lasted a good thirty minutes. Some of Fisher's toys would have been very handy to attain his goal and stretch the boy's hole. No dildos were available though, all he had were his fingers and a lot of lube. Little by little, he was gaining ground, but this time it was decided to wait until the boy was as ready as possible before a second try.

Sven was looking at the proceedings with interest.

"Okay, Brett, I think you're all set," said Miles, with four fingers going in and out of the child's extended orifice. "Are you still up for it?"

Brett had followed the procedure carefully.

"I'll tell you to stop if it doesn't work," he was determined if perhaps not enthusiastic.

"Of course, you decide."

"Very well, let's do it."

It was Miles that had a moment of hesitation before his desire overcame his doubts.

This time Brett was placed on his side facing Sven. Miles was spooning him from behind, his copiously lubed erect member teasing the well-prepared opening.

"Here we go," said Miles, as he started to exert some pressure. "Just relax; it should slip in without too much effort this time."

The man did not dare believe it, but this method proved successful and he was suddenly rewarded. The boy winced as the glans went through, stretching the sphincter just a little bit more than before, but it was nothing compared to the previous time. Miles stayed put, resisting the urge to press his advantage, and allowed the boy to get used to the new sensation.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"It's a bit uncomfortable but quite bearable," Brett answered, while Sven's lips were busy stimulating his cocklet, and this time it was responding and standing up.

"Good, I'll wait a couple of minutes more before trying anything else." Miles was kissing his neck, his hand caressing the boy's soft thigh and right bun. There was no chance his erection would go down anytime soon, so he could wait, testing the water with occasional little jabs forward. With great precaution, he continued his progress down the boy's chute, encouraging him every step of the way, caressing his young flesh and kissing his smooth skin. He was a mix of emotions, mostly wonder and pleasure. His desire to fully possess the boy had overtaken all the others.

The boy in his hands had submitted to his will; there could be no turning back. He was too focused on his task to analyze why. It would come later, perhaps.

He had wanted the boy for some time now and was about to get his prize, half of his manhood now buried deep in the boy's recesses.

"Just a little more and I'll start the fucking."

"That's the good part," said Sven, now watching the proceedings and masturbating, lying on his side.

"There, I think it's time now," murmured Miles in the boy's ear, then nibbling on it.

He felt Brett tense again, ready for the upcoming onslaught, which furthered Miles announced enjoyment.

"Be careful," said the boy in a little voice.

"You know I will." There was ambiguity in that answer as he started to move his member forward and backward with increasing force and speed with each cycle and trying to gain more ground in the slick hole. The boy's hands had gripped the sheets to anchor himself to the bed. His expression, most of the time, was neither pain nor pleasure at that moment, rather one of wonderment and discovery at the sensations the man's tool was provoking in such virgin territory.

Miles wanted the boy's initial apprehension and wariness transformed into a positive experience, an initiation. He just had to find the right spot to rub his shaft on repeatedly, that little nub that had brought Brett such joy and made him climax earlier. After a few passes, his sensitive rod seemed to feel something like it and he set to with determination. The effect was electrifying: the spasms he felt as the walls of the boy's rectum clamped around the invading flesh.

Miles raised the boy's legs and turned the boy around to face him, not disengaging and resuming his pounding; Brett's hands were closing and opening, digging in the man's skin and flesh as he was rocked by unexpected pleasure.

Miles did not want to miss this opportunity, now augmenting the pressure to gain those last few inches that would let him bottom. Soon you could hear the slapping sound of his pelvis hitting the child's tender perineum.

"Oh, god! Oh god!" exclaimed Brett, not knowing anymore if he was in pain or feeling an intense pleasure, both probably, just like Sven had told him. It was so strange having that rock hard monster moving inside of him. A few minutes before, he could have never said again, but at this moment, he did not know anymore.

Miles was transported by bliss. He was pumping hard and fast. As usual, he wanted it to last forever, but his juices were mounting inexorably and his explosion was close. He had one hand filled with a delicious, generous twin mound and the other locked behind the child's neck. Much to his delight, Brett, of his own initiative, raised his head for a lingering and deep wet kiss. This took him over the top and as his tongue licked the boy's gums, tongue and teeth, he sent a volley of sperm as far as possible down Brett's heated bowels.

Sven, a little forgotten but unmindful of it, was watching them with interest, letting them enjoy that moment of communion. As its intensity subsided, he simply said with the spontaneity of his age and letting go of his still hard cocklet. "Ain't you guys a bit hungry. I think it's time for supper," bringing them back down to earth.

***

Carl Fisher had prepared the festivities to celebrate their victory. He was waiting for Dunn to arrive before opening the Champagne; it was at just the right temperature. The atmosphere in the cafeteria was buoyant: everyone was talking at once, wanting to express their opinion on the morning feat. For his part, he knew he would soon join his catamites that he had left at Eagle House for a round of sex like no other. Enrico was the only one he had taken with him, the child was seated on his knees and he was enjoying the pleasant smoothness of his skin, the smell of his raven black hair that tickled his chin. The boy was as sensual as ever and responding to the man's arousal, rubbing his rounded butt on his rising loins.

What is Dunn doing? I have more important matters awaiting me! He had a look around at the table. Greg was there with Milo by his side; the senior seemed to have his mind elsewhere as his eyes scanned the tables all around. More interesting, he could see Max in great conversation with Sam Lewis, they were exchanging smiles, was there something brewing between those two? That would be for the best. Tools was seated alone with a somber look. He had not seen him with his pretty boy for quite some time now and had shown an unusually bad temper earlier; he would not be good company this evening.

Shirley was seated at another table with some boys from her brigade. The others were still looking for Cole, who seemed to have disappeared into thin air. That was Carl's only worry, but not unduly so. What could that boy do? If he showed up, he would be captured again in no time. He was in good shape and whatever he said would be considered fabricated if not an outright lie by most of his audience. Carl was inclined to think he had simply run away and hopefully would get lost in the forest, or encounter ferals. They would probably never hear from him again.

At last, he saw Dunn at the entrance and gestured to him to join them at his table in the empty chair he had left by his side. To be sure that he got the message, he sent Enrico over to fetch him. Dunn was not alone, escorted by Sven and his new fling Brett. Carl had to acknowledge that he had good taste. Noticing also the strange gait of the younger boy, something few would have spotted, he smiled and congratulated Dunn for one more virgin ass well-plowed. It was time to acquire more pretty boys for his collection before the marine added one or two more in his bed. At least he could surmise young Matthew had not been broken in yet–still a virgin. Carl may still have a chance to be the first to take his flower.

"Please, Miles, take a seat with us, we must celebrate your exploit. No one could hope for such success. Call over Louise too." He had almost forgotten her.

"Sven, Brett, go find her and keep a seat for us, I'll be with you shortly. You don't mind if I also celebrate with the boys involved, Carl?"

"Certainly not, it's only natural. In fact, it appears to me you've already started to celebrate and had a very pleasant time with those boys. I envy you; Brett's ass is to die for."

Carl's words were meant to be agreeable to Miles; still, the marine's mixed feelings about Brett's deflowering made them unpleasant to hear. He hurried to change the topic and avoid any problem.

"We were very lucky today and the merit is shared by all those that participated."

"Yes, getting those weapons and more important the ammunition that goes with them, that was quite some luck," added Louise, who had joined them.

"I agree, capturing those armored vehicles and their machine guns, without ammunition would be pointless," concurred Miles, not stating that they had spent a lot for the rescue–but that could wait for later.

"Now we have the means to defend ourselves and more…" said Carl.

"More?" asked Louise and Miles together.

"I mean, do you think we could get more?" corrected Carl, uncorking the bottle and starting to pour the sparkling golden liquid.

"From the same place? I would not try that. The ferals have learned their lesson. We would not be as lucky a second time. It would mean a direct confrontation to get to them."

"Didn't you want to attack them?"

"Yes, that's the plan, rather than wait for them to attack us here. Still, I would like to choose where to confront them. We will need to distribute the new weapons and get our boys trained to use them. Starting tomorrow at first light, I want us to be ready as soon as possible. Those ferals could be on their way here at any moment."

"We found one gathering, but there may be others," added Louise, "Getting rid of those would not be the end of our problems."

"I find you quite pessimistic this evening. Enjoy your Champagne and let us rejoice after that first victory, the first of many."

"Do we have a choice, it is win or die," said Tools, who definitely was not in the best of moods.

Miles thought he was nonetheless quite right, a defeat would mean the end of Saint Xavier and any future for their community.

As he finished his glass of Champagne, all he wanted was to check on Brett to make sure that there had been no harm done. Earlier, as he looked him over for any damage to his hole and cleaned him up, he had not been able to truly assess his frame of mind. He really liked that kid and was angry with himself for once again allowing his lust free reign. He had Sven, Anthony, not to mention Alex and the club boys. What need did he have to do it with Brett? He still feared he might have rushed it and perhaps ruined their relationship. That did not stop him from loving every moment of it and wanting nothing more than to do it again. He was incorrigible – poor little Brett.

"Well, you'll excuse us if we don't have dinner with you," Miles said as he left the table with Louise rather abruptly.

As soon as they were gone, Carl resumed his seat, Enrico in his lap.

"Raymond, where is Chandler? I haven't seen him around." Raymond Chandler, how funny! He kept the joke to himself.

"He had a headache and stayed in the apartment."

"Poor little chap; I hope he'll have recovered when you join him. Did you follow my lead? By now, he should be opening his legs or mouth for you at your convenience. Perhaps you should go there and join him; you don't seem in the best of moods."

"Sorry. Perhaps I should do that."

"Take something from the kitchen for the boy. They're always hungry at that age and not only for cock."

"Thanks, Carl, I'll do that."

"Does anyone know what's wrong with him?" asked Carl when Tools left them.

"No idea. He is often like that with ups and downs since the flu," said Greg.

"Who wants some Champagne, there's some left and I have another bottle ready? Enrico?"

"Can I?" said the boy with surprise.

"Today, everything is possible. Milo, do you want some?"

"Sure do," the boy answered, holding out his glass.

"I like to make everyone happy. I'm a good guy, in fact," said Carl, looking at Enrico sipping the Champagne, "Is it to your taste?"

"Oh, yes."

"Good," then he said a few words in Enrico's ear, who hurried to finish his glass before disappearing under the table.

Greg had no doubt for what purpose, while Carl poured a second glass for the boy.

"There's nothing as good as a boy's mouth before dinner; I'm hungry." He gave the signal to the serving boys who started bringing the food.

***

Night was falling, at last, and Cole knew where he should go. It was obvious–the swimming pool!

A place that for him was as familiar as home. He knew it like the back of his hand and with any luck would be able to find some clothes, kids always forgot one item or another and rarely came back to claim them. There might even be some food hidden there. There were caches where the team stashed candy and other things in case they had the munchies during training. Moreover, there would be no one there anymore; the place had been deserted since the power had been cut. With no air conditioning, the heat was stifling and the air filled with chlorine.

It was easier for him to move under cover of darkness, when everyone was inside, except for the guards on duty and perhaps those still looking for him.

As he arrived before the building, looking left and right and listening for any sound of approaching footsteps, his only worry was that the door would be locked.

Fortunately, it was not; he entered in silence and in the dark. His nose was assaulted by the familiar smell of chlorine associated with the swimming pool; it was noticeably stronger. It took him a moment for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark, but he was in known territory and set about finding what he needed. First, he went to the room where they kept lost property. It took him a while to find everything, tee-shirt, shorts, socks, and sneakers. They were all there: all you had to do was rummage through the piles, and try them on, which he did, slightly impaired by the surrounding darkness.

Next, he went in search of food; by now, he was famished. Sure enough, he found some, even two cans of coke that he savored with great pleasure along with two Mars bars and a box of crackers. He would have preferred something more substantial and even though the cokes were not cold, he still found them quite satisfying. Perhaps later in the night, he might try to visit the kitchen. Benches placed side by side produced a makeshift bed and using discarded towels as a pillow he laid down. He was exhausted, those long hours spent in hiding under the threat of being discovered had taken their toll, and he fell asleep in no time.

Chapter 29

Sam Lewis was smiling at Max, as the man's hand caressed his thigh. Sam was gay; he had known it from an early age, even before the club recruited him, but he never spoke about it to anyone. Strangely, no one in the club considered themselves gay. For them, what they did was something else entirely. In an all-boys school, you had to use the only thing available, they said.

That was true for most but was bullshit for others.

Sam's true love was Greg, but he knew Greg would never accept him as a lover. Greg was predatory by nature, incapable of love. Despite his superficial charm, he took but gave nothing in return and harbored no feelings towards him. That was something Sam had learned the hard way and now accepted as fact. Max was a different story, not his dream choice, but an acceptable substitute, and one who was not afraid to call himself gay. Despite the recent loss of Thorvald, whom Max truly loved, Sam had decided to approach him, and it looked like it was working. Making love to boys was nice, but what he really longed for was the embrace of an older male figure. He had intended to wait until after leaving school before coming out, but things had changed.

Max looked up from his dinner plate as he put down his knife and fork, "We've had a long, eventful day; I think I'll go to bed early."

"No dessert?" asked Carl.

"No, thank you, I've had enough," he answered, his hand squeezing Sam's thigh once more and exchanging a knowing glance with the boy. The senior was young but old enough to be of interest. Max felt so alone since he had lost Ivor. He needed someone. Sam was a gentle boy, it was easy to see, he would be perfect, "Take good care of Milo, Greg, he's been great with Ivor," he added, as he raised himself and ruffled the boy's blond locks.

"I will, don't worry. I'm not that bad!"

"I'll go too," said Sam, as soon as Max had risen from his chair, "I'm exhausted, good night everybody." He was up in the next second and following Max, only a few paces behind.

Once past the dining hall door and out of sight, Max was there waiting. They embraced and French kissed, grabbed each other's asses, and then left in a hurry, hand-in-hand.

"Love is in the air," concluded Carl ironically, sending Enrico under the table again.

Young Will had taken a seat with the refugees, his gaze repeatedly falling on Greg. For some inexplicable reason, he was attracted to the young man. He had hurt him, he was afraid of him, but despite all that, he wanted to be with him. Too young to understand the nature of that feeling, he could only accept it and long for it to be fulfilled.

Will was not the only one that was wondering how such a thing was possible. As he ate his dessert, a fruit salad, Greg's own gaze lingered on the small boy he had intended to snuff, not so long ago. He still was not quite sure why he did not do it that day and did not understand the kid's earlier behavior. Why was he interested in such an insignificant little boy? He was cute for sure and worth a fuck or two, but there were many others like that around. What could be drawing him to this particular child?

***

Sergeant O'Malley did not bother wasting ammunition on the incapacitated ferals trailing behind the horde. They were already dead and not worth his attention. Out of curiosity, he cautiously entered the mall. There, he found the great fire that was still burning and a few dead bodies, mostly ferals and among them a few children–however, not the captives he had seen earlier. The place was vast, and he could not search it all, but it was now evident that one of the main reasons why the ferals had occupied the mall was for food. They ransacked the Publix Super Market and the food court. What would they do now, resort to cannibalism? Would they have the means to get the nourishment they needed any other way? If only they would start eating each other, that would put an end to his crusade.

Unable to explain their sudden departure from the mall, he returned to the car to contemplate the future. His one-man crusade had ended; he had to find those that had attacked the ferals and, if possible, join them. Only they had the resources needed to fully eradicate the ferals.

The question was how to find them with so few clues. Perhaps the ferals would lead him; they had gone south, the same direction as their attackers. Maybe they wanted to retaliate and were able to follow them. It was a start, not that he had any other clues at the moment.

He started the car, their tracks were easy to follow and it was still one or two hours until nightfall, which could make his task more difficult.

***

Sven and Brett were talking animatedly, unaware that Miles had approached their table and was observing them, particularly Brett. Sven had been an active participant in his initiation. Was the boy having second thoughts after having anal sex for the first time? Miles' greatest fear was of damaging their relationship, and he almost decided to leave the dining hall to avoid any confrontation with them. He preferred not to talk about the incident within earshot of Louise or the other boys. He still was unsure of Brett's feelings despite his obvious enjoyment of some of their coupling.

Unfortunately, running away never solved anything. He had to face up to his responsibilities and take the consequences. Right now, though, Louise would expect him to be celebrating with his boys as he had told Carl.

As usual, everyone at the table wanted the man to sit beside them; lately, he had taken the habit of changing places during the meal to satisfy as many of the boys as he could. This time he chose to sit with Sven and Brett first, better to clear the air at once and go from there.

"You don't mind if I sit with you, Brett?"

"Of course not, Why would I?"

"I feared you might have bad feelings toward me after … you know," Miles didn't want to be overheard or go into too many details: Matthew was nearby, one more cause for concern.

"That's exactly what we're discussing," said Sven, quite serious.

"Yeah, I was saying how I was thinking never again in my life! Then…"

Miles was quick to interrupt, speaking softly as he bent down close to Brett to keep the conversation as private as possible in the full dining hall.

"I'm sorry; I knew you didn't want to do it."

Now it was said and heard. Miles had feared the worst and hoped for the best. It would be the worst.

"Yeah, you told me that already."

"Yes, but there's more," said Miles, remorseful and checking that no one else was listening, "I put you in a corner, you did something you were not ready for and perhaps would not have done in other circumstances."

"Don't you worry, we kids do all kinds of things we don't want to."

"Perhaps, but getting fucked and doing your homework is not the same."

"You got a point, and if it had stopped there, I might have felt bad about it. As I said before, I may have never let you do it again, but I was curious, I didn't want to let you down, Sven had done it, and obviously liked it. I had to experience it at least once. I knew you would be careful and stop if I told you to."

Brett, you must be more distrustful than that, thought Miles thinking of the consequences if he had lost control. He narrowly avoided it, something he was right to be ashamed of.

"Once you were in and started … you know: it was something completely different. Those feelings were overwhelming. Some of the best stuff ever."

"That's what I was telling him," said Sven, lowering his voice, "He needs to be stretched and learn to take you in as I did. The sooner, the better," he insisted with a wink, "If I were you, I'd be back at it as soon as we're done with dinner."

Brett nodded in agreement, a naughty smile on his face.

Miles was looking incredulously at the two boys. He had to be wrong, had misunderstood, or they were playing a game on him. He had expected to have to fight just to stay friends with Brett.

"I wasn't so sure it was a good idea, but Sven said it would be much easier now rather than later when it was tight again, even if I'm still a bit sore … sorry for the details," Brett added, looking around to see if anyone had overheard them before quietly speaking again, "What do you think?"

"I agree with Sven, it will be easier, but it might still hurt. I've taken short cuts with you; perhaps I should let you think it over; you need to be sure this is what you really want. You didn't seem too keen on it at first." Miles had not dreamed of ever slipping his shaft inside the boy again, he was not about to miss the opportunity, but he wanted to be honest with the boy.

It was as if Brett did not hear a word Miles just said, his thoughts on the one thing on his mind, as he replied, "Maybe we can skip dessert and get started, I've never been too fond of fruit salad." Against all expectations, he seemed truly eager. It was quite out of character for the somewhat shy and reticent boy, making him all the more desirable.

Suddenly, the man's hunger was of a different nature and he discreetly placed a hand on the child's smooth and glorious thigh. He was about to speak when William burst into tears at the next table.

"What's wrong with him," asked Sven, standing up to go care for his friend and as surprised as everyone else.

Miles and Louise joined him, next to the boy, and then gently helped him away from the noisy dining hall. Sven and Brett following close behind.

They went to Miles' nearby office, the boy still wracked by tears without apparent reason.

"What's the problem, William, why are you crying, what happened?" asked Louise concerned after sitting him on the couch.

"Nothing … really … nothing, I don't know why I'm crying. It happened … just … like that, all at once."

"I think I know what the problem is," said Miles, massaging the boy's back with one hand to comfort him. It's combat shock, and it can grab you at any time without warning, it can happen to anyone. Don't worry, William; it will go away. You won't be the only one who gets it in one form or another over the next few days."

"But … there was no real fight this morning. I was just … there, like the others." the sobs were quieting now and the boy was catching his breath.

"You see, you're getting better already," said Louise.

"We've been through much worse … remember the Conner … farm" insisted the boy.

"These things don't follow reason. They just happen and then go away. It's the stress, the wait for something to happen that never comes or the confrontation with death. I've seen it many times, even in veterans, it's called PTSD by the shrinks, whatever that means, and it's quite common."

"I'm a wimp. I've got no nerves." Tears were coming back for a different reason now.

"Certainly not and you've proved it many times." Miles took the boy in his arms, rocking him gently, "You know, I never did this with any of my men when I was in the Marines, but believe me, some of them would have needed it."

Sven knelt beside his friend, holding his hand.

"You should have told me you didn't feel good."

"But I did … feel good, I mean. It came, all at once; there was nothing I could do, but I'm feeling better now."

"Do you want to go back to the dining hall?" asked Louise.

"No, not really." Crying was never too good for your reputation at school: Miles hoped there would be some degree of understanding from his peers.

"I'll take him to Bear House and stay with him for the night," announced Sven. "We'll play some games; perhaps the twins will join us later."

"Good of you, Sven. I'll come to check on you when you're settled," said Miles, "or better, I'll go with you," sending a glance to Brett just outside the door.

"While you take care of them, I'll go tell everybody that all is fine and not to worry," said Louise. There had been serious faces all around the dining hall when they had left, and William would not be the only boy ready to break down, despite the atmosphere of joyous celebration.

The little troop left the administration building and shortly arrived at the dormitory. As soon as Sven and William started their game they left them, Miles took Brett's hand and led him to his room, still incredulous at the turn of events.

There was no hesitation from Brett, he hastily undressed halfway to the bed, rubbing his erect cocklet. He was eagerly waiting for Miles to join him, raising his legs to reveal a hole still slightly gaping from their earlier coupling.

The lube, left on the side table, was put to use.

"I'm so glad it's just the two of us this time, I do feel sorry for William, of course," said the boy, "but I'm glad I'll have you all to myself–hey, that's cold!" he announced, his tone suddenly changing, as Miles applied a copious amount of lube and pushed two fingers in his anus.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, it's rather nice, in fact, the cold and your fingers."

Brett pulled the man to him and raised himself at the same time to give him a lingering wet kiss. He definitely was learning fast and revealing an unexpectedly amorous aptitude. Where has the shy boy gone, wondered Miles?

"Wait, let me handle it," he said, as Miles was readying for penetration, "Sven told me how I should do it, I'll be in control that way. Lie down."

Brett had indeed decided to take control. He wanted to feel as little pain as possible and being able to control it was one way of achieving that.

Once Miles was in position, he squatted down, and took hold of the man's shaft, delicately positioning it over his hole, as if to see how it would fit best, before slowly lowering himself.

Miles was watching the proceedings with curiosity and great pleasure, appreciating the rubbing on his glans, the augmenting pressure, the rotations the boy exerted to test the ring's dilatation. There was a sudden breakthrough as he slipped in effortlessly, and the small grimace appearing on the boy's face vanished.

"See, this is much better, almost no pain at all," said the boy relieved, "Let me get it all in before you do anything."

Miles had no intention of intervening; Brett was managing his penetration with consummate skill helped by his stretched pucker from their previous session. His time would come later when he took over, for now, he resisted the temptation to thrust in. Instead, his hands were on the boy's knees to steady him, sometimes caressing a thigh or brushing the child's hard pricklet. Miles delighting in the smooth and delicate textures of the boy's fluff on his arms and shins. The heat that permeated his skin, the firm and tense flesh under, the wonderful view of the boy's lovely face and expressions. Yes, he was a lucky guy.

By rocking back and forth, Brett was gaining ground and Miles saw his shaft slowly disappear up the boy's chute. There was a small hiss from time-to-time, again, a grimace, but no tears.

"Almost there," announced Brett with pride, as Miles was now comfortably ensconced in the child's recesses, his desire to fully mount the boy rising.

"My turn, then?"

"Just a minute, let me see if it fits alright."

The boy carefully moved up and down the erect member testing the feasibility. This approach certainly took away some of the passion and spontaneity of the moment, but it was a small concession to fully enjoy the boy, once again.

"Seems to be working, go slow at first, and I'll tell you how it feels."

"Fine with me," replied Miles, "Let's try this first."

Moving one smooth leg after the other, he had the boy kneeling instead of squatting, still fully embedded, with his hard rod well in place. He raised himself close to a sitting position, resting his back on the bed frame, encircling the boy's torso with one arm while having his other hand under his firm, round buttocks. That way, he could easily and almost without effort, pull the child's small frame up and down over his shaft while enjoying his sweet mouth or kissing him all over his face and neck, nibbling at his ears or occasionally go down to suckle at one nipple or the other. Brett soon took up the rhythm going up and sitting down on Miles's pleasure pole by simply bending forward and backward.

They kept at it for a good fifteen minutes with a tempo dictated by the boy, Miles rapidly needing only to accompany the movement until he was sure Brett was ready for something more intense.

"Do you want more?"

"Sure do. Go faster."

"Yeah, that too. Just tell me if it's too much."

"We'll see."

Miles pulled him off his rigid cock, having him on all four, legs well spread, and in the same movement, was back through the well-stretched ring without a glitch, with again only a small hiss and shake of the boy, whether of discomfort or pleasure he did not ask.

"Here we go," he warned.

And he did! Pumping in and out with powerful, unrelenting pelvic thrusts, he bent over the child in a close embrace, skin to skin, his mouth by the child's ear telling him sweet words, giving him a kiss or a lick. After a while, they changed position, doing it from the side, then face-to-face, varying in speed and vigor so as not to exhaust him, ever considerate of the difference in size and strength. He knew where the boy's sensitive spot was and rubbed on it repeatedly, bringing the child to a climax again and again–using all his expertise on loving boys. He had learned with Sven, Anthony, and the others to pleasure his new little partner. The lovemaking was not emotionally meaningful, unlike with Sven, their ties not going as deep yet. Their main goal, for now, was to enjoy each other as much as possible and they were quite successful at that.

After his earlier exploits of the day, Miles took the time to reach a long and satisfying orgasm. He finished with a rabbit fuck in his preferred position above the boy, one smooth leg on each shoulder, hand-in-hand, mouth-to-mouth, and eye-to-eye.

As the last jet of his seed hit the child's hot canal, he wrapped him in his arms to cuddle with him, and effortlessly lifted him to rest on his large frame, his still twitching shaft not wanting to leave its welcoming receptacle, deflating but still inside.

"That was great. What did you think of it?" asked Miles, catching his breath.

"If I wasn't that tired, I would ask for more," answered Brett, his eyes closed, ready for sleep.

"True, we've had quite a day. You surprised me, Brett, I was afraid you would turn away from me, or worse. Even after my experiences with Sven, Anthony, and others, I never expected you to ask for a repeat or that you would like it that much. I want to thank you for that. What I'm going through since I came to this school is like a dream come true, I'm still wondering when I'll wake up. You can certainly rest now."

The child was nearly fast asleep and barely heard half of what was said, not that it mattered. Miles also felt the fatigue of the day catching up with him. The radio and gun were on the side table, the child's weight, the touch of his skin, his soft breathing made for an exquisite feeling. Miles closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately.

***

In the end, the party Burt had planned proved disappointing.

The anxiety of the wildfire and its consequences weighed too heavily on everyone's minds. They all understood that it meant an end to their stay in the mansion and the easy life it represented. Their future life on the road was full of uncertainty, not knowing where to go and being at the mercy of ferals or other predators.

They all drank too much, the boys were not used to it and after a few glasses were lost to him, except if he wanted to fuck unresponsive lumps of flesh. Margarita was the only one left and had obliged, forgetting for once her reluctance to accept his demands. By the end of the night, no one was sober enough to keep watch.

Suddenly, sometime after three in the morning, a series of loud explosions awoke them. The walls and furniture shook, the windows rattled. Burt rushed outside onto the balcony to see a ball of fire illuminating the sky to the east.

"What was it? A bomb?" asked Margarita panicking.

"No, I don't think so," replied the man. Esteban and Ethan, who had made it to the bed and collapsed on it earlier, now came to him for reassurance, as if out of a bad nightmare that was not quite over. He took them in his arms, rubbing their backs. "I think there are oil or gas storage tanks in that direction; they must have blown away, thankfully, the nuclear plants are further inland and not close to us."

"It's getting closer," said Margarita.

"The fire? Yes, certainly." You just had to look at the horizon and its red hues to know that. "Check on the other kids and tell them everything's alright. I'll come to see them in a minute. Right now, I need an aspirin."

Understanding the urgency of the situation, the girl complied immediately.

Once he had taken the pill, he went to where the kids had gathered in semi-darkness.

"Margarita told you, there's nothing to fear. We're watching the fire. Everything's ready, we can leave this place if need be, and even if we had to, nothing says we could not come back later. I know where to go to hole up while waiting for the fire to die down. Go back to your beds now." There was not much else he could tell them.

As he went back upstairs, preceded by Ethan and Esteban with their charming bottoms winking at him in the shallow light, he was not as aroused as he should have been lying on the bed close to each other for comfort, he waited for the aspirin to take effect.

***

Miles was dreaming, as usual, it was strange but rather pleasant: There were boys in that dream, beautiful ones, and there was Louise. What she was doing there, he had no idea. The boys were alien to him; he knew none of them. They were in a clearing with tall grass, reaching up to their waist and hiding everything under it. Louise was talking to him, but he was not listening, his only interest was the boys. Were they naked from the waist down? What did they look like? He needed a closer look.

A movement on the bed roused him from his sleep. He reasoned it must be Brett returning after a pee or to wash out the sperm he had filled him with, he kept his eyes closed, seeking to recall the images from his dream. Miles caught the boy, pulling him close, holding his head for a lingering and wet kiss, one hand on his neck and the other on his back, moving down to squeeze his generous buns. He was instantly erect and wanting. Would the boy be up for another round?

He was about to ask him, pulling his tongue out of the child's sweet mouth when he realized something was wrong. The boy in his arms was wearing shorts; he did not smell or taste like Brett. He knew each boy; he knew each boy's signature, this was … Matthew!

He opened his eyes, taking in the whole scene. It was still dark, Brett had rolled off him, and you could see the reflection of the leaking semen that left glistening tracks on the man's belly and found again on Brett's bottom and down one thigh. Brett was in a deep sleep, breathing peacefully. Matthew was in Miles' arms with disheveled hair and red eyes; you could feel his small erection tenting his shorts and poking at the man's midsection.

"I had a nightmare, I could only think of coming to you," he said while rubbing himself softly on the man."

"God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean … I thought it was … Brett … Should you keep doing that?"

"Feels good to me. Don't I feel good too?"

That was it, what Miles had feared and desired at the same time, what was destined to happen from the beginning.

"You feel great, the best." Miles' hand slipped under the fabric of his shorts, grabbing the forbidden treasures there, for the first time openly able to fully explore and appreciate them, "I should not do this, but I don't know how to stop myself."

"Why would you need to stop?"

"Because I might hurt you. I've hurt others before. Also, I promised your father to take care of you and certainly not this way."

"What's bad about it?"

"That's the whole question. Everybody says it's bad."

"Not at Saint Xavier and it doesn't feel bad either. Right now, I've never felt anything so amazing, so wicked," he added, pushing against the man's hand.

His nightmare forgotten, Matthew was in full seduction mode and all of Miles' defenses were crumbling.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Miles had to try to get out of this difficult situation as he experienced a strange sense of repetition.

"I don't know. I know I feel jealous of Sven and Anthony, and the others who can share this with you. I'm jealous of Bob, who sleeps with Walt while I'm left alone. I don't like that … I mean, I don't like feeling jealous, I like you more than anything: more than anyone else. I want to be with you all the time. You know I wanted to call you dad several times, but that would have sounded odd to the others. So I never dared to."

"I would have loved to be your dad, Matthew, you would have made me more proud than you can imagine, but think about it, dads don't have sex with their boys, you see. As much as I would love to do it with you, with those kinds of feelings–that might not be the best idea." Miles had pulled back his hand. He was afraid that if he let things go further, the floodgates might open and he was not sure he could restrain his long-repressed desires, fearing he might reveal his darker side to the boy.

Miles heard distant thunder outside, perhaps announcing the much-needed rain they were hoping for.

"Then I'm glad you're not my dad," replied Matthew, coming for a kiss and boldly taking hold of Miles's erection while trying to take off his own shorts with the other.

This was too much for the man and in a second, his big hands were all over the demanding child's skin, caressing, kneading, following every delicate contour while his tongue was at work in the velvety, small mouth.

Fortunately, lust had not taken control of his mind yet and he could still think.

Matthew was special to him, so he wanted to tread carefully, needing some alone time with him. There was no concern of him doing it here and now with Brett watching, but this was not the time or place, he needed a compromise.

"Wait," he exclaimed, "let's do it right."

Miles finished pulling off Matthew's shorts, leaving him naked and beautiful, the boy watching him attentively, expectant for what was to come.

After sending a glance at Brett still sleeping, the man seated himself once more against the bed frame as far away from him as possible. The large bed could easily accommodate all three of them. He brought Matthew to him, having him lean on him as he was used to when he came to play on his computer except that now they were both in the nude and erect. His large shaft was grinding on the boy's crack while one hand was rubbing the boy's pricklet and the other steadying the child's head, presenting his ruby lips and pretty face to the man's desires.

"Comfortable like that?"

"That's not how it is done. I've seen it in the barn, and on Bob's computer," answered the boy doubtfully. "Don't you want me to suck you?"

"You're right; it can be done in many different ways. This, I think, is perfect for your first time. I'm sure we will both enjoy it. We will do more next time if you're still up to it. Agreed?"

"Okay, I trust you." Matthew was not quite sure yet he had won that battle, but if it were going the way he wanted, he would go along.

He felt Matthew tense, somewhat, as his large hand took hold of his small half-erect penis. Miles had to provide him a way out.

"I've always loved you and I always will whether you do it or not. That's why I want you to do this for the right reason, not because I would want it. I love you so much, Matthew, I don't want to hurt you, or have you regret it later in any way," he whispered in the boy's ear.

"Never, you will never harm me, I know it. I've known it since the first time we met."

"We could simply lie down together and forget all of it as if it had never happened." His fingers were holding the boy's sex, not daring to go further yet. He felt he could not be as enterprising with Matthew as he had been with Brett.

"No. I've always known you wanted it to happen. I'm not stupid; I felt you hard against my butt when I sat on your lap. I knew what it meant: you wanted me, so I came back, hoping you would make your move. I want you with me as much as possible; be no different than Sven, Anthony, and now Brett, I need to do it."

Matthew finished his little speech with a sloppy wet kiss on Miles' lips who accepted his offering, which immediately transformed into a battle of tongues while the man's fingers finally got to work on bringing pleasure to the child's cocklet, his second hand was stimulating a nipple as he started grinding himself against the boy's crack.

There, it was done, Matthew had given himself to the man, and the man had accepted him. This was only the beginning.

***

Doc, Lance Walford, had been among the last to leave Okatie. They had known even before the wildfire reached the town that the fight was lost. The flames were not their only enemy: it was the wind, which carried burning debris ahead of the main front, starting fires in many buildings. The order to evacuate came in the night. It was not easy to carry out.

They were not alone on the roads. It was chaos everywhere: survivors and ferals alike fleeing for their lives, some on foot, some in cars, on bikes, running, walking, limping, and some fighting each other for food or a better means of transport. Most of them mere children, the older ones were carrying the younger. Adults were in charge in a few instances or alone and determined to survive at any cost. Who would have thought there were so many people left?

Lance decided to take the secondary roads, hoping they were safer and less crowded.

As the first rays of the sun pierced the canopy of trees, there were four vehicles in their convoy. A car as their vanguard, a truck with boys, food, and equipment, the school bus driven by Martha, a strong-willed woman who had somewhat taken his wife's place in the community, carrying the little kids and the few adults and teens in charge of them, Kathy amongst them. Lance was following in a van with a few of the older kids, his son, and Sasha by his side in the front seat.

They were going at less than forty miles per hour, putting the wildfire far behind them. The main problem now was that they did not know where they could go after they joined with those that left ahead of them. They had planned to meet fifty miles away, out of the path of the fire–but would they still be there?

Doc had been more than disappointed when the main group decided to leave them behind as they readied the little kids for the journey. It confirmed his fear that he would never be a leader of men: that was not in his nature.

Lost in his thoughts, he had let the others distance them when suddenly out of nowhere, a deer crossed the road just in front of the van. Lance slammed hard on the brakes as he turned the wheel to avoid the animal, skidding to the side and almost leaving the road, sending rocks and dirt flying. They were all thrown around, some of them bumping here and there.

"Is everyone alright? Did you see the deer?" asked Lance as the radio suddenly crackled to life with Martha's voice.

"I don't see you behind me anymore. What's the problem?"

"We're fine. A deer jumped out in front of us, and we almost hit it. Keep going; we'll catch up shortly."

"What? I can't hear you," said Martha.

Doc repeated his message slowly, and then Martha spoke slowly.

"Heard you [hiss] th [pop] time. We'll–slow–down–until–you–catch…" then nothing.

"What's wrong with that radio," blurted Lance, irritated.

"Could be the battery," suggested Wallace, a boy on the backseat.

"What do you mean? The battery. No one checked?"

There was no answer. He was the one that should have taken care of that. He could find excuses: his disappointment, almost anger, at being left behind after all he had done for this community. They could have waited the two hours needed to get everything ready for the little kids before their departure, but no, they were afraid. He had to manage with the few loyal ones still with him. He definitely was not the man of the situation; he did not have the necessary authority or skills.

Lance restarted the van, there was no time to lose, but it was immediately obvious they had blown a tire.

"Unlucky," said Wallace, eliciting smiles all around.

"Damn right, young man, you could say stupid, too. Come and help me. Sasha, have a look in the back and try to find another radio. I want to stay in contact with Martha.

They set to change the tire and were back on their way less than twenty minutes later, speeding up as much as possible to catch up with the others. They did not find another radio.

They caught up with the convoy sooner than expected and saw their vanguard car first, abandoned by the side of the road with one wheel stuck in a ditch. Lance slowed down with dread. As they came level with it, he stopped, and they saw it was a wreck, there were dead bodies on the hood and inside it, some on the ground. Lance looked up the road ahead and saw an ominous ridge that blocked his view; he did not know what to expect, who or what they would run into–he feared the worst. Lance tried to call Martha on the radio, but it was still dead.

"What happened?" asked Jeffy.

"Ferals," answered his father, moving again at a snail's pace as he continued down the road to see what lay ahead.

"Oh, God," Lance said in a breath.

It was the school bus, there, at a distance of about three hundred feet, laying on its side. They saw bodies, big and small ones strewn all over the asphalt; they had been dragged from the bus, leaving bloody trails. He saw the ferals used large logs to force the bus to stop or swerve into the drainage ditch that ran alongside the road. The bus tried to make it through, but obviously the driver lost control.

The truck was nowhere in sight. Did it make it through? Certainly, it had a better chance: its size and weight, an advantage. Or perhaps it had been stopped further down the road out of their sight; they probably would never know.

Besides Lance, Sasha stood shocked, his gun held tightly. Instinctively he had his hand on the door handle ready to open it. Lance stopped him.

"It's too late; there's nothing we can do. There's too many of them."

"We got to help them. Vicky!"

"It's too late. She's dead, they're all dead, and we will be too if we don't get out of here fast."

The ferals were still there, perhaps hundreds, some going in and out of the bus and more crossing the road and disappearing into the woods. There was an eerie silence and the only sound heard was the van's motor running slowly.

Lance reversed gear and moved back, trying not to be noticed. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned the van around and accelerated, not waiting to see if they had been discovered and were followed.

Sasha and a few of the other boys had tears in their eyes.

"We should go back; we should try something," he kept repeating.

Lance felt his son's small hand clutched tightly to his shoulder; the three other boys in the back were silent.

Lance was thinking of Martha who was driving and seeing the faces of all the others that had been in that bus. He had thought of starting a new life with that woman these last days, but like many other things, since this whole tragedy started, it would never happen. He tried not to think of her and concentrate on driving and getting them away from danger.

They did not go far, when a minute later, Lance had to push on the brakes again, seeing a large horde of ferals in the distance crossing the road–they were trapped.

"Look, there, on the right, a trail or something!" exclaimed Terence.

Lance did not think twice and took it, going as fast as he could, not knowing where it would lead them.

"Don't worry, boys; we'll make it through. Terence, take out the map and try to see where it will lead us. We have a rendezvous with the others and I plan to get you there. If we had not been delayed we would probably be dead too. Let's hope the other convoy was able to get through."

Without a working radio, they had no way to get in contact. It looked more and more like a lost cause.

***

Sven woke up, stretched, and turned toward William who had his eyes closed, still asleep as far as he could tell.

They had talked late into the night. Sven spoke of his own traumas, of killing, of sex with men and boys, of his lost family, of his hopes and fears, of his future. He told him things he never dared share with him before. William first listened before starting to speak and, in his turn, finding himself not able to stop.

It benefited both of them. Their talk had been serious, not the casual one they had every day.

Sven felt rested and at ease this morning, he had been able to flush away most of the anxiety coming from their confrontation with the ferals, even if he did not express it in the same manner as William did, it had been there. He knew he was looked upon as a leader in the group after the shop incident with Omar and his closeness with Dunn, which put a lot of weight on his shoulders. The sex romp with Miles and Brett had helped him to relax, and it could have made the difference.

They had discussed openly for the first time his attraction to boys and men, and he had questioned William's abstinence.

The boy put forward a simple answer, "My dad would be pissed at me if I did that."

"I think your dad won't have a word to say about it anymore." Quickly realizing the harshness of his words, he added, "Sorry if I just hurt you."

"You don't have to be sorry; what you said is quite right and my answer was more an excuse than anything else. Still, I know he would have been against anything of the kind. I don't know. I get urges like everybody else, I masturbate, but this seems too much for me and there might still be some girls around, I hope. Got nothing against gays though, don't worry about that."

"Never, I do not doubt you're a good guy and smart. Did you know I used to wank thinking of you?"

William blushed.

"No, really?"

"Yes, I did. I'm not proud of it; I didn't like thinking of you that way, my best friend, you know, I think you're quite good looking."

"Who else did you think about, any girls?"

"Yes, a few times but it was boys and men most of the time. Do you think you could change your mind about it?"

"Dunno, don't think it's something you decide. Ain't you with Dunn?"

"Sure, love the guy, but since he does it with other boys, why not do the same? I've started getting so horny lately, must be puberty."

"You'll be the very first to know if I want to try something. I think it would be easier with you than anyone else."

"Ready whenever you are, William."

Sven did not tell him that since he had discovered how good it felt to fuck Brett, he was quite inclined to repeat the experience and try to find a partner or two. He understood Anthony and his attitude much better now.

"What time is it?" asked William.

"Seven forty-five. We should get up and go see what the others are up to. There's more training scheduled today with all these new guns we brought back."

"What I would like to try for sure is one of those big machine guns."

"I think those are for the seniors only, but if I ask Miles nicely, he might let us have a go at it once."

The two friends were dressed and out of the room in no time.

***

Burt stopped a few times to help kids along the way and added four to their group. He could not take anymore and he probably should not have taken those in the first place, but at that time, he did not know yet they would pass and meet so many on the road of all ages and shapes, in cars, vans, trucks, on foot, on bikes, skateboards, and scooters. To those that asked for help or seemed in need he said they were going to Saint Xavier, the school. Ethan and Bradley, in agreement for once, had told him it was not wise. No one knew what was waiting for them at that place, if it still existed, and if it did, if there would be enough room for that many people. He was putting them in jeopardy.

The wildfire was far behind them now and he thought they had enough gas to get to their destination. Ethan had the map on his knees and he was guiding him. Margarita was following in their second car, now with three other vehicles that had decided to join them.

"How far now?"

"If we don't run into any trouble, we should be there in an hour or so, maybe less."

They avoided the main roads, and all was quiet and appeared safe. Burt was confident they would make it. What the future would bring, he did not know, but that lady on the horse had invited them. She had saved the life of Ethan and the other kids. Furthermore, they would warn them about the wildfire, giving them time to organize. With luck, it might change direction and avoid them altogether.

He was listening to the boys in the back seat exchanging jokes when a blue van traveling at high speed came out of a junction on his right. Hitting the brakes and turning the wheel sharply left, there followed a screeching noise as the sides of the two vehicles gnashed. He stopped, avoiding the worse: silence followed.

After a few moments to come out of the shock, Burt opened the car door to assess the damage, the driver of the van doing the same.

"Just a scrape, I think. Sorry, I didn't see you coming, but you were driving rather fast and traffic isn't what it was anymore. I'm Burt Algood," he said while extending his hand.

"Lance Walford, but everybody calls me Doc," was the reply, "We were driving fast for a reason, the woods behind us are filled with ferals, we're from Okatie and we're fleeing a wildfire; we had to evacuate. We were trying to go east, but we have not been able to find a way through, ferals are everywhere, on the move and in large numbers."

"Same story here, we had to leave our house, but we were luckier concerning the ferals, we saw them but always from a distance and never as a real threat. We're going to Saint Xavier, the school. Want to join us? The more of us the better if we have to fight them ferals along the way."

Ethan, who had come to Burt's side, at the name Saint Xavier, frowned and pulled on his sleeve. Still, the boy could not be too angry with him, after all, he had been the first one to bring stray kids back home and that was something he understood, helping others, like Burt, had also done at the beginning, taking care of him when his mother was hospitalized.

"Why Saint Xavier? What do you expect to find there?"

"We were told they had a well-organized community and that we would be welcome in case of need. To be honest, I don't know where else to go and it could be temporary if this damn fire keeps going. It is one hell of a wildfire."

"That's for sure. Well, we don't have that many options. All the places we knew of and could have gone to, by now, have probably burned to the ground. The others are out of reach. Lead the way, we'll follow."

***

Displayed on tables in front of the boys were the new weapons. The boys stood, attentive and eager to try them, as Miles went from table to table explaining how to use each of the guns, safety locks, ammo type, showing them clips and magazines, and how to quickly reload. Max and Louise were doing the same with other small groups, and they made good progress throughout the morning–the call to Miles over the radio came in the afternoon.

"Vehicles on approach, coming to the main gate, sir." It was the video center.

"How many, what kind?"

"Cars, vans, motorbikes, nothing special, I've counted six. We warned the guards on duty, should we ring the alarm?"

"No, not yet, be ready, though. Watch all your monitors and warn me if there's anything else going on around the perimeter. I'll be there shortly with Max."

Max had his ear to his radio and Miles knew the man was receiving the same warning.

"Louise, we're going to the gate; be ready to distribute the weapons and ammo if you hear the alarm. We'll consider those boys ready to use them."

"What's the problem?" Louise immediately felt that there was an emergency.

"Vehicles approaching, nothing too serious, I believe, but you never know. Keep on alert. Mathew, stay here with Louise, Brett go find Stuart and get your drones ready, the two boys had not left his shadow since the three of them had woken up. Max let's go."

Two Humvees were in position at the gate, their machine guns manned–it stopped the group in their tracks. Additional guards were taking up positions at the main gate as Arthur assessed the threat before walking out to meet them, holding an M16 with the barrel pointed down to the side.

After exchanging a few words with them, Arthur radioed Miles, "There are about thirty-five people in vehicles; they say there are a wildfire and ferals on their tail."

"What kind of story is that?"

"That's what they say."

"Do they appear menacing?"

"No, not at all, rather miserable in fact. Mostly kids with a few adults. Should we ring the alarm?"

"Not yet. Check the flanks, everybody check that you're locked and loaded," he repeated, "Keep eyes on our flanks, and be ready."

As they were talking, Miles could not help thinking that his greatest fear besides ferals had been a wildfire that could ignite the whole countryside around them. It seemed to have become a reality and they would get the ferals as a bonus. Would the countermeasures taken be enough? he wondered.

"We have to talk with those people and hear what they have to say," he said, sprinting to the gate.

A small group of them had gathered in front of their vehicles, facing the guns of Greg and the boys on duty that day, they were empty-handed, having left their weapons in the vehicles and obviously were expecting to be allowed inside.

"Hi, I'm Miles Dunn, Marine Corps, I'm in charge here. What can I do for you?" he said as he joined them with Max and Greg.

"Happy to meet you, I'm Burt Algood; this is Ethan and Esteban, Margarita, others we've picked up along the way. No need for guns. We were invited some time ago, in case of need. You can say that time has come. It seems to me we made the right choice. I'm impressed." –and he was, by the weapons on show, and the general appearance of the place. As if nothing had ever happened these last months.

"Invited, what do you mean?"

"We met a lady on a horse; she saved the day for Ethan, asked us to come with her, that we would be safer here. I did not listen at that time, but now we're here."

"A lady?"

"She said her name was Louise," said the smart-looking brown-haired boy next to Burt, but it was another boy, next to him, that captivated Miles' eyes, a striking young Latino, who, he estimated at no more than twelve, who oozed sensuality and sex. His skin was just the perfect shade, and called for a caress, his lips for a kiss. If Carl saw him, he would get crazy like any other boylover, Miles included. He tried to focus his attention on the conversation and not the beautiful creature before his eyes. The boy's cocky attitude showed he was aware of the effect he had on some men, and he was right.

"Louise, you say. Yes, I know her and that would be like her to tell you to join us. Our policies have somewhat changed, though," Miles glanced at Max and Greg nearby, "but I think I can make an exception and welcome you in. I have been told you have news for us?"

"Yes, bad news. We will certainly not be the only ones to seek refuge here. A wildfire drove us onto the road, the like of which I've never seen before. Whole towns are being reduced to ash."

"What he says is true. There were a few hundred of us in Okatie, and we thought of fighting it at first, but not for long. We didn't have a chance of winning that battle."

"What the Doc says is true. I fear no one can stop that thing."

"The Doc? Are you a doctor, a medical doctor?"

"Yes, I am, I was in charge of the Okatie clinic before all that."

"A wildfire; I've been dreading something like that for months. We've taken a few precautionary measures, which I'm not sure will be enough from what you describe. We really need to hear your story. Let them in," he ordered.

Miles thought he could trust them, the men and kids looked genuinely concerned and not because of the guns pointed at them, they also looked tired and their vehicles were dusty, they had probably been driving for quite some time. Even Carl would agree with his decision when he learned that a real doctor was joining their community.

"Are you sure?" asked Max.

Strangely, Greg took his side: "Let's do what he says. Lower your guns and open the gates," he told the guards. "Where do we take them?"

"In other circumstances, the gymnasium would be perfect, there's plenty of space, but it has become our armory. Let's be cautious; they can use some of the empty classrooms for now. We can bring mattresses to sleep on," said Miles, before addressing the newcomers, "I will have to ask you to leave your weapons here, as you've seen, you won't need them here."

"That seems reasonable," said the Doc, and after some hesitation, they all accepted without too much recrimination.

"Gentlemen, will you come with me?" Miles motioned with his hand to indicate he meant Burt and the Doc, who seemed to represent the group.

"I'm Lance Walford," the man said, "There's more than the wildfire, unfortunately."

"I guessed so. Nice to meet you. We'll discuss all that inside, away from the sun, seated, and with something to drink. Greg, tell Carl to join us in the meeting room. Follow me, gentlemen."

"Kids, go back to the vehicles, we'll be with you shortly. Bradley, take the wheel," said Burt.

Miles could not help throwing a last glance at the Latino kid's glorious ass as he turned around, on par with the rest of his person and highlighted, like his legs, by the short shorts he wore. It had to be intentional, an idea that was reinforced when Burt gave it a gentle pat. One more of us, wondered Miles?

***

Raymond Tools searched the whole school and found no trace of Chandler. Where was the boy hiding? Had he found help somewhere? Raymond would not ask for the assistance of those searching for Cole; he dreaded becoming a laughing stock for Carl and the others, given the way Carl told him how to control the boy. He had excused the boy from the video center, saying Chandler was not feeling well and would stay at his apartment until he recovered. He had to find him soon. The only places left that he had not searched yet were the pool area and Bear House, where he knew he was not welcome and had no reason to visit, so he decided to start with the pool.

As soon as he pushed the door open, the smell of chlorine assaulted his senses. Deserted for weeks now, the place was rather gloomy even with the sun shining through the high windows. It was a perfunctory search; he did not expect to find anyone there. He went through the pool area, the changing rooms, the showers, the offices, and the storerooms with all the equipment.

Cole heard him come in and silently watched him pass his hideout. No one, except those who knew of it, could find him there, so he did not fear being seen, but he had left some traces of his recent presence. That was worrisome. He recognized the literature teacher and was somewhat reassured; he was a good man and certainly had no reason to be looking for him. What was he doing here? He was clearly looking for something or someone.

Raymond was about done and happy to leave the building and its irritating odor when he found the pile of candy wrappers on a table with two cans of coke.

He came closer to examine them using his flashlight to get a better look at the area but found nothing suspicious.

"Damn sweet tooth kids," he said aloud with a smile, "coming here for a snack." If he had surprised a cute one, with goods in hand, he would have taken advantage of the situation and vented some of his anger and resentment on him. Too bad, perhaps it was worth coming back from time to time, hoping for some fun.

Deciding Chandler was not there, he left. Now he had to find a way to get into Bear House and search it. Come to think of it, he would not be surprised if Dunn had taken part in Chandler's disappearance. With all the strays and refugees he had taken in, it would be logical for the boy to ask to join them. Perhaps he should confront the man and demand Chandler be returned to him right away? That would expose him, though.

***

"There won't be any lack of room as you can see," said Greg to the new arrivals, as they walked down the corridor that led to the classrooms. "We'll bring you mattresses, covers as needed and the boy's room is on this floor, I guess the girls could use the faculty restroom. We have showers in the dorms and sports complex, just off the gym, but you shouldn't go there without permission. All that you need should be here, but you can ask if you're missing anything. Arthur will inform you of how things work in the school; he's good for that. Let me tell you; you don't know how lucky you are to have been accepted here."

Among the thirty-three people present in the group, most were boys between ten and fourteen. There were two about six or seven. Four girls among them, a rather pretty one with long blond locks, about sixteen, that had immediately caught the attention of Arthur, seven men of varying age and one woman. Those vehicles were fully packed.

"When are we gonna get our guns back?" asked one of them, about forty, his tone at once vindictive and desperate, "We want to be able to defend ourselves, our families."

"Don't worry; we are well-organized and prepared," replied Greg. "In due time and if you stay with us you will be given much better stuff than what you brought with you and in case of need you will be asked to participate in defense of the school, like everybody else, and you'll be given the best we have if you know how to use them. Of course, if you want to leave, you are free to do so, and you'll get yours back. For now, you should just settle in and relax. You will get all the necessary information when the two of you that went with Major Dunn come back here. Arthur, can you take care of them? I'm going back see what's going on in that meeting?"

"Sure will," affirmed the young man, he was not about to lose an opportunity to have a conversation with the girls and, more precisely, the lovely blond one.

Greg left, he wanted to join the proceedings with the adults, leaving four boys of his unit with Arthur. Greg knew you were never too cautious: he wanted to keep an eye on Arthur, who was on Dunn's side, but also have the means to face any unexpected situation. He hurried, curious to hear the conversation between Dunn, Carl, and their visitors. It would certainly be interesting. As he was about to go up to the meeting room, he sent a glance outside the building and saw two more vehicles at the gate. This was only the beginning, how many more would come to Saint Xavier?–one more problem to address.

***

Carl had not taken long to show up and Miles was careful to be the first to speak, setting the tone for the rest of the discussion.

"Carl, we have the visit of Doctor Lance Walford, a medical doctor," Miles insisted on the word–medical–which in his mind would be enough to calm down the headmaster, it was an added asset to the school no one could refuse, "He comes with worrying news."

Carl's own words had been cut off by Miles and what he said then as he took a seat was quite different from his prepared tirade.

"A medical doctor, you say, just what we need. You are most welcome, Mister Walford. We do hope you'll stay with us," replied Carl. "And you are?" he asked the second man.

"Burt Algood, I'm a nobody for my part, we met on the road with the Doc. Truly happy you've opened your gates to us."

"Well, some hospitality is required in such a situation. Let us hear of the other less agreeable news you bring with you. I'm Carl Fisher, the headmaster."

As they were talking, Louise, Tools, and Cruise joined them.

"As I said to Major Dunn, there are two major problems on our tail," resumed the Doc. "First, a wildfire of monstrous proportions that burned down our town of Okatie and we fear is coming this way. Ahead of it are thousands upon thousands of ferals fleeing from it, as well as people. Ferals attacked us as we fled, we're lucky to have escaped alive. They attacked our convoy, trapping two vehicles, and then a horde quickly overwhelmed them–killing everyone.

"How far is that wildfire you are speaking of?" asked Carl.

"Difficult to say, thirty to forty miles away, it is not moving that fast, but it could be here in two to three days if the winds don't change. A thunderstorm with heavy rain would be welcome, but there's not one cloud in the sky, hasn't been in quite some time. There's nothing to stop it. We wanted to circumvent it at first, but as I said, the ferals made us change our plans."

"And what about those ferals?" asked Miles.

"They are much closer, but I can't say precisely. It's as if they knew the fire was coming before we did. We skirted several packs. Mister Algood was luckier, he didn't see as many, but they are there, all through the woods. We lost some dear ones along the way."

"If the ferals are not in too large numbers, we might be able to fight them and at least repel them," said Miles. The kind of wildfire you are talking about is of a very different nature. Whatever measures we took, to counter fires, might not be enough."

"Is it that big?" asked Max.

"It is, with a front of at least ten to twenty miles, perhaps more now. It jumps any obstacle, no river or body of water has stopped it and we do not have a lack of those in South Carolina."

"It could miss us, change course with some luck," said Carl, always hopeful.

"Yes, this is not a sure thing, but if it comes this way, I fear you'll have to join us on the road."

"Leave Saint Xavier? Certainly not," affirmed Carl. "Miles, Max, what can be done?"

"I think Mister Thorvald's helicopter could be put to use," said Miles.

"What do you want to do with it?" asked Max interested.

"First, assess the situation concerning the wildfire and the ferals, see if they're coming this way. If so, then set the woods ahead of them on fire."

"That's crazy, you would put the school in jeopardy, we don't even know if they will come this way," said Carl.

"We already used counter fires, and managed them to clear an area around the school; we can do it again but on a larger scale, due to the size of the wildfire being described here. If we're successful, it will find no more fuel on its path to get here. It could save the school and all we've worked for these last weeks," argued Miles.

"There is some logic to it. I like that idea," said Max, "and we might burn some ferals too if they are all over those woods."

Greg entered the room at that moment.

"There are more people at the gate. What should we do about them?" he asked.

"We'll need them to fight the fire and the ferals, don't you think, Carl? Now is the time to open the gates. We'll need as many of them as we can welcome." Miles didn't see how Carl could say no.

"Let them in, put them with the others," said Fisher, who seemed to have lost that battle.

"How do you plan to start that counter fire if it comes to that?" asked Max.

"We have two crates of incendiary grenades that should do the job."

"That wildfire jumps ahead, Okatie was already in flames before it was there from all the debris carried on the wind and the heat it gives off," said the Doc.

"We'll prepare for that too, but first we'll need to assess the situation. It goes without saying that none of us is a specialist concerning forest fires," said Miles.

"The wind is coming from the north," said Max.

"Which is unusual this time of year, it should be from the southwest," said Louise, who had taken a seat, "With some luck, it will change direction and leave us alone."

"Unfortunately, we can't wait for that. I think we should start it a few miles north of the school, far enough to give us a good enough margin of security. That's the best I can think of."

"That could work, Major. I do hope so anyway," agreed Max.

"You said there were many people fleeing that wildfire besides the ferals. I'm afraid we might burn some of them too or have them caught in the middle with the ferals." Louise was again, playing the devil's advocate.

"Saint Xavier is our priority even if we have collateral victims," said Carl.

Miles turned towards Carl in rare agreement, "I agree with you, we haven't much choice. Louise, can you go and try to organize those new people that just arrived. See who we can trust with weapons and what other tasks they can fulfill. The school from this moment is on alert. Distribute the weapons and double the guard. We must prepare large reserves of water in case fires start in any of the buildings and to protect the perimeter. Max, let's go see that wildfire and what can…"

Miles did not finish his sentence, as his radio and Max's were buzzing. Rifle shots rang outside, followed by the alarm bell.

"What's going on?" asked Carl.

Max and Miles were listening to their radios as more shots resonated near the gate. Everyone was going to the windows to see with their eyes what was unfolding.

Miles did not hear the machine guns on full auto, which was reassuring. The boys were following his orders to use it only in case of a major attack. This was more on the level of skirmishes. Ferals had appeared at the forest border and the guards opened fire with small three-round bursts, mostly to protect the refugees massing at the gate.

Miles spotted five more vehicles heading towards the gate and gave the order to let them in. So, there's quite a lot of people still out there, he thought like others before him, as he saw the line of vehicles passing the gate and taking the direction of the faculty parking. Groups of boys, armed with the new weapons, were taking up positions all around the perimeter. Miles was pleased to see his training efforts in action.

The ferals had already retreated under cover of the trees. An uneasy silence had replaced the gunshots.

"It was the same at Okatie," said the Doc, "We had skirmishes for a few days with ferals before the wildfire arrived."

"Perhaps we should warn the Shein's at the food depot," said Louise.

"They are west of here, let's hope out of the path of that fire too, but, yes, we have to do that," replied Miles. "They have never answered any of my radio calls, was the one we gave them damaged? We should have checked, and now we need to send someone to do the job. True, we were quite busy. I'll see to that later. We should not be too long. Carl, I want to have a look at that wildfire, see if it's coming our way. If it is that big, we should have our answers in no time. How much fuel is left, Max?"

"I estimate there is one hour of flight left, to be on the safe side. I propose a ten-minute flight now, which should be enough to get the information we need and leave us with enough fuel for the second phase, with the grenades, if it becomes necessary."

"Everybody here knows what his job is, so just do it," concluded Miles.

***

There would not be a better opportunity. Bear House was nearly deserted like every other dormitory; kids were running around all over the school, getting their weapons, taking their orders. Raymond could dedicate twenty to thirty minutes to find Chandler. The question was what he would do if he were indeed there. Knock him out and take him back to his apartment? Something like that, for sure, there would be no more pleading with the kid. He would learn the hard way on how to please a man, but first, he had to catch him.

He entered without anyone taking notice and decided to get bold. He caught the sleeve of a passing boy and asked, "Where can I find Chandler?"

"Who?"

"Chandler Terril, I was told he was here."

"Haven't seen him here, he's a Puma boy. You should look there," and he was gone. No help there.

Raymond doubted the boy would be on the first floor and he was about to climb the stairs when gunshots erupted outside, this time close to Bear House. It seemed those ferals were everywhere. In the following minute, a good fifteen boys were descending the stairs at a run without one glance at the man.

All the better, thought Tools, must not be many of them left in here.

As he set foot on the second floor, his instinct told him he had been right and that Chand was there. He saw the changes that had occurred in the last months; the floor was completely transformed and no longer looked like the previously well-ordered dormitory it had been. Walls had been taken down to create large spaces, many of them of different sizes. It was rather disconcerting at first, but at least, as he had expected, the place was mostly deserted.

Where are you Chand? Come to daddy.

Methodically, Raymond inspected every room, while outside, you could still hear sporadic gunshots. He was moving away from the stairs now, toward the end of the corridor. The boy had to be there; he wanted to convince himself. Now the rooms had not changed that much and looked mostly like before, each holding two beds and desks. There were only two doors left and then he would have to try the first floor.

As he opened the first one, he recognized the lovely silhouette of his chosen boy. At last!

Chandler's attention was concentrated on the action outside, and he did not hear the door open or close.

"Chand? How are you, my boy?" said Raymond in a mocking tone.

Chandler turned around and cringed; he could not escape or hide. Perhaps he could try jumping out the window. He grabbed the handle.

"Don't do that. I'll be on you long before you've climbed through. You'll come with me without making any fuss. I don't want anyone being hurt."

"Leave me alone. I don't want to go with you. Never."

"Who said you had a choice in the matter?"

"I'll shout. You won't be able to take me with you. They'll stop you, throw you out."

"They? Who are they? There's no one around here but you and me. There's a lot going on out there. I have all the time I can wish for."

Chandler's eyes darted left and right, looking for a way out of that situation as Tools took one step forward at a time, getting closer to his quarry.

"Stay back," shouted Chandler.

"Or what? What will you do? You're even more beautiful and desirable than I recalled. The fear perhaps? From now on, I'll make sure we won't be separated again." Raymond felt his excitement rising and was sporting a solid erection; he wanted to touch him, hold him in his arms, at his mercy. He could have his ways with the boy on the spot: no need to wait anymore.

Chandler had seen it in his eyes, the man was determined and nothing would save him this time. He jumped over the bed on his left, putting it between him and Raymond, this was where Arthur's desk was, and with some luck, a gun in one of the drawers, he had seen it once, but which one?

"What are you trying to do? Give up. I won't tell you it will change anything in the way I'll treat you, but who knows. I'm a good guy basically, you know that." Raymond was having fun; he liked that game of cat and mouse. He went around the bed; the boy was four paces away now, almost within reach, his back against the desk, his hand trying to open one of the drawers. What was he doing? What was in there?

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