Posted by Extranjero on April 27, 2007 at 12:13:44:
ROSE WARRIORS (Part 2)
The fire on the beach was burning low, but the darkness was as deep and warm as velvet. Above their heads, the sky was flecked with stars. The girls who had been swimming were wrapped up in just their towels, while the guys lazed round in shorts and open shirts. The odours of the barbeque still lingered in the air, together with the smells of dope and woodsmoke. Beyond the flames, a ghostly line of surf showed through the dimness, as receding wavelets sloshed against the sand.
Karen hugged her drawn-up knees and listened moodily. The party hadn’t gone as she had hoped. She’d had her eye on Mike for weeks, but Chrissie had jumped in ahead of her. The slut was snuggled up with him, her cleavage almost bulging from her towel. Karen was a quiet, attractive redhead, but her reticence had let her down again. She heard her rival giggling like a schoolgirl, and turned her sullen face towards the sea.
She was too self-conscious to go skinny-dipping. She still wore her bikini briefs, and a floppy football shirt over her breasts. A couple of the other girls were in bikinis too. Brigitte’s was bright purple, which contrasted with her gorgeous rosewood tan. Her long dark hair hung round her face as she took a puff and passed the spliff to Leah. Her companion was much paler, with a rather snooty look, but her red bikini showed off every curve. She took a long drag on the joint, then coughed demurely, blinked and gave it back.
The remaining girls were getting drunk, not caring if their towels had started slipping. Mel, so poised and cool at work, was kneeling up and telling dirty jokes. Frances listened eagerly, her green eyes open wide. And Charlotte had slunk off with John. They were necking just beyond the firelight.
Karen drained her can of beer. The water seemed to beckon. Beyond the surf, the dark was infinite. Without form and void, she thought. The swish and gurgle had a soothing rhythm. Leah had started sniggering. A piece of driftwood crackled in the flames.
When Karen turned her head again, Mike and Chrissie were both gone. She felt her stomach tighten; then it knotted as she heard a car start up. The parking lot was out of sight, but she knew it was Mike’s Audi. The pang of envy almost made her cry.
“Fuck it,” she said softly, and pulled off her football shirt. Her rusty hair cascaded round her shoulders. Her skin was lightly freckled, and her breasts were firm and plump. She straightened up and stepped out of her briefs.
Brigitte burst out giggling. “Ooh, striptease!” Karen gave her a black look, and padded down towards the languid surf. Carl stood at the water’s edge, throwing pebbles at a floating beer can. She was just a lissom shadow in the dimness, but she felt his searching gaze on her bare skin. Maybe he would try it on, come splashing after her. Perhaps she would get lucky after all.
She waded out into the surf. It slathered her smooth legs. The sea was warm, but felt much cooler than the sticky air. Karen shivered pleasantly as it immersed her pussy. Waist-deep now, she slipped on in and swam against the undulating waves. The stars shone brightly overhead. It felt like she was floating in deep night. The water was a black as oil but left her pale flesh gleaming.
Then she heard a stifled splash, as if a seal had surfaced in her path.
Karen flinched uncertainly, touched bottom and stood up. She peered into the murk, but saw no movement. A wave welled up against her belly, then went rolling on towards the beach. The fire seemed very distant, like a beacon for lost ships. She heard the tinny impact of Carl’s pebble on the can.
He wasn’t interested, of course. She felt another surge of bitterness. Then she glimpsed a shapeless movement, just ahead of her. Karen wavered, still waist-deep. She felt her nipples swelling up like buds.
The unseen weapon aimed at her was a gun designed for underwater use. The five-inch steel darts it fired were just as lethal in the open air. The short burst pierced Karen’s tits like needles being punched into a peach. The stabbing impacts made her grunt, then wrung a bleating whimper from her lips. She reared and wriggled as the darts chewed deep into her chest. Her punctured heart deflated, and she flopped into the water, open-mouthed.
Murky figures waded past her limply floating corpse, like long-dead sailors rising from the deep.
Carl had paused to listen on the shoreline. He’d heard a muffled coughing sound, like someone trying to start an outboard motor. The sea was dark and silent now. The floating beer can caught a glint of firelight. He shrugged and threw a stone at it. A burst of darts came zipping in response. They thwacked into his narrow chest, some ripping through the back of his loose shirt. His body juddered drunkenly and crumpled to the sand.
Brigitte snorted with delight and Leah plucked the spliff out of her fingers. She drew on it a little earnestly. Her mind was getting foggy. It was hard to concentrate. She saw what happened next and failed to grasp it.
Four or five dark figures were emerging from the sea. They waded through the surf and up the beach. They were sheathed in gleaming wetsuits that clung tightly to their curves, and had weird-looking rifles in their hands. The leader was a blonde girl with a flinty, mannish face and an odd, four-barrelled pistol in her grip.
The tipsy revellers had fallen silent. They watched the newcomers uncertainly. Frances gave a nervous titter, then sat back again and bit her lip. Her friends blinked in befuddlement. Mel pulled her towel closer round her breasts. Then the blonde girl raised her gun: an underwater-firing SPP. It discharged with a high-pitched crack and drove a dart-like bullet through Mel’s forehead.
The 4.5mm projectile spiked into her brain, and left a dark red dot between her eyes. She knelt there, gawping with astonishment. Then her biceps slackened and the towel slid off her tits. Her nipples had perked up invitingly. It took Mel several seconds just to realise she was dead. She drooped and toppled to the sand, her eyes still wide behind her wispy fringe.
As if on cue, the other girls began to fire their rifles. They were armed with APS amphibious guns. There were magnum loads behind the darts, to force them through the water. They punctured bare flesh at the speed of sound.
The swimmers wailed, still trying to get untangled from their towels. The slim projectiles tore through screaming lungs. Frances fumbled with her tits, not grasping that those ice-pick holes had killed her. Blood surged up to fill her throat. She spat a gout of it and slumped aside.
The guys were too drunk to react. They jerked and gurgled as the darts bit deep. The guns kept up their hacking fire, sending steely insects zipping through the night. Leah and Brigitte realised this was no hallucination, and began to squeal in girlish harmony. The blonde girl swung her pistol round and fired another barrel. The spike sank into Brigitte’s belly just above her navel. Her sweet face twisted tearfully. A spurt of urine stained her purple briefs. One of the others turned her APS and triggered it. Brigitte’s wail increased in pitch as a lacerating pain consumed her breasts. She bucked and flailed against the sand, and the gunner switched her aim. Leah’s turned to squirm and shriek as the darts ripped cruelly through her pampered flesh. She flopped back onto her spread towel and went as limp as Brigitte. Her spliff still smouldered in one nerveless hand.
Silence fell across the beach, apart from popping firewood and the slow, relentless swishing of the surf. Shadows flickered on the sand. The revellers lay intimately quiet. The girls in wetsuits fanned out quickly, checking for survivors. There were none. The blonde with the pistol turned towards the sea and waved a flashlight. The darkness seemed to coalesce, and several lumpy shapes came gliding forward. They quickly took the form of rubber dinghies. Figures splashed into the surf and hauled them up the beach. There were men and women in the crews, all dressed in motley camouflage and Kevlar. They were armed with sub-machine guns and grenades.
A tall figure was standing in the prow of the lead boat. Though draped in a dark cloak, her form was slim and feminine. She hitched the garment up and stepped out nimbly as they beached, revealing naked skin beneath the cloak. A gunbelt spanned her slender waist. A black scarf had been wrapped around her face.
She surveyed the crumpled bodies for a moment. The soft breeze ruffled Brigitte’s tangled hair. Silently the woman knelt and grasped a handful of the soft, pale sand. She weighed it almost lovingly – then spread her palm, and let it spill away.
* * *
Mike was driving with one hand; his other arm was draped round Chrissie’s shoulders. Both were eager to get home, but they hadn’t travelled fifty yards as yet. At the junction with the highway they’d been flagged down by a girl in uniform. She was pacing in the headlights with a red lamp in her hand. It looked like something must be passing through.
Even as he cuddled Chris, Mike couldn’t keep from ogling the young soldier. She wore tight khaki shorts and shirt, and a beret on her neatly pinned-up hair. Bronzed legs in the headlights, and a look of prim resolve. An M16 was slung across her back.
“Stupid bitch,” said Chrissie. “What the hell’s she waiting for?”
Mike gave her a glance and squeezed her shoulders. Chris had pulled her denim shorts back on, but not her tee-shirt. Her towel was slung around her neck and her tits were peeping out. She was a spoilt nineteen-year-old with baby doll blonde curls. He couldn’t wait to get his cock inside her.
“Maybe you’ll end up like her one day,” he murmured dryly.
“Jesus, don’t say things like that,” she pouted back at him.
Like most people, they lived a life of mindless work and undemanding leisure. Rumours of war in distant lands seemed quite irrelevant. But now there was a whisper that the war was going badly, with people being snatched to fill the gaps. Chrissie could think of two girls who had simply disappeared, although she hadn’t known them well enough to worry.
The government was impersonal, and no-one liked to ask too many questions. It was as if they feared their comforts might be snatched away. People could ignore the power which lurked behind the scenes. The military only moved at night – in convoys like the one approaching now.
A big command car trundled past, and then a line of heavy Reo trucks. Their aspect in the dark was sinister. The vehicles were camouflaged and travelling on sidelights. Civilians rarely got to see such things.
The truck drivers were mostly men. They grinned at the girl soldier. Chrissie nudged Mike in the ribs. “Well, if we’re gonna wait …”
He turned his head and saw that she had taken off the towel. Her perky breasts were flecked with grains of sand. He looked up to her coaxing eyes, then leaned across to kiss her.
One of the trucks exploded like a bomb.
The fireball lit the car up and they stiffened in its glare. The blaze rose like a bubble and burned out. Black smoke blotted out the stars. A piece of wreckage clanged against the road. Then more blasts erupted down the rolling line of trucks, and machine guns started savaging the night.
The soldier skittered round in shock, then fumbled with her rifle. A weapon snarled from somewhere close, and dark wet stars appeared across her shirt. She reared, her bosom trembling in its sensible sports bra. Her pretty face contorted as she slumped.
“Oh my God!” Mike blurted, Chrissie clutching at his arm. Shaking her off, he slammed into reverse and powered backwards. Bullets struck the bodywork and shattered the back window. Chrissie squealed and cowered low. Glass fragments gleamed like diamonds in her hair. Cursing, Mike swung back onto the verge and spun the wheel. Then a hail of gunfire turned the car into a sieve. He gagged and jiggled in his seat, blood spraying the interior like an airbrush. Chrissie hit the door and tumbled out into the night. Something carved into her thigh, but otherwise she hit the ground unscathed.
Whimpering, she crawled away in just her denim shorts. The car vibrated on its springs behind her. The clatter of machine guns was like pavement being drilled, and glowing bullets fizzed into the dark.
The numbness in her leg became a sudden, gnawing pain. She bit her lip but managed to keep going. Her breasts were dangling in the dirt. Her hair was in her eyes. And then a pair of slim boots blocked her way.
Chrissie tried to wriggle past, and rolled onto her back. A figure loomed against the fire-lit sky. It was a woman, cloaked in black, her head wrapped in a scarf. A narrow slit revealed her eyes, which were dark and almond-shaped. And yet the cloak hung open and her shapely body was completely nude. Chrissie glimpsed her high-set breasts and tidy pubic tuft. There just those soft black boots, calf-length, and the belt around her hips. An empty holster on each thigh. The girl had two big pistols in her hands.
She studied Chrissie calmly for a moment, then bent forward. The stricken blonde grimaced and shook her head. The woman squatted over her, and touched one automatic to each breast. The muzzles was so hot they stung. Chrissie gave a little gasp. The woman’s dark eyes didn’t blink. She squeezed both triggers, and the blonde girl howled.
* * *
Leilani woke up with a start. Her bedroom flickered dimly in the nightlight. Her naked skin was sheened with sweat. There was a nauseous pressure in her gut.
She sat up warily, her nipples tingling. The room, the hall, the courtyard were all silent. Something had yanked her up from sleep. A noise – or just an instinct? She shifted in her linen nest and reached under the pillow. The Sig-Sauer automatic was just there.
Leaving it, she slid out of the bed and crossed the room. The polished tiles felt cool beneath her feet. Her hair spilled down her back like silk. Stray hanks were in her eyes. She flicked them clear and padded to the window.
Down below, the courtyard seemed deserted. Starlight tinged the tiled roofs, but couldn’t pierce the shadows under them. Then she saw one of the Guards and let herself relax. The girl had tired of pacing round and was sitting on a bench against the wall. Her attitude was casual, but she had her headset on, and her gun was balanced ready in her lap.
Leilani listened to the hush, then turned back to her bed. The candle flame glowed reassuringly. Her intuition still insisted something wasn’t right, but she had four bodyguards around the house. The nightlight quivered as she glided past it, then settled as she curled up on the sheets. She let the balmy night air soothe her, drying her damp skin.
The Guard in the dim courtyard sat unmoving, her fingers lightly clasped around her gun. She hadn’t dozed; her blue eyes were wide open. A knife was buried in her chest, so deeply that its glint was lost in blood. The point had pinned her to the wall. Her headset crackled vainly. Liquid darkness filled her mouth and overspilled her pouting lower lip.