The Rabid Brigadier (10 page)

CHAPTER
Ten

S
TONE STUMBLED back to the hospital. The two I.S. men who’d taken him in walked along on each side of him, holding him as he
started weaving too much to one side of the street. But he just shook them off. He’d walk back on his own if he had to crawl.
At last the words FORT
BRADLEY HOSPITAL FOR SURGERY
crawled into his eyeballs and Stone pushed through the door. Nurse Williamson was waiting in the lobby and took him from
the custody of the Cro-Mags. Stone was glad to see them go.

“Come on,” she said, taking her patient by the arm. “You look like hell. Let’s get you to bed.” Her he let lead him. Even
in his stupor the feel of her flesh, her warmth against him, felt wonderful. She opened a door, snapped on a light and half
threw him down on the bed, where he landed right on his face and stomach. She quickly undressed him and got him under the
covers. His body was nearly as limp as a rag doll now as the entire load of truth serum circulated through his
veins, acting much like a dose of barbiturates. She injected him quickly with several shots of God knew what all. Even in
his zombie state Stone was getting pissed off at how many drugs were being pumped into his flesh. It was getting a little
ridiculous.

But then she pulled the covers over him and turned off the lights. He fell asleep within seconds into a mercifully dark and,
for the moment, safe pit of unconsciousness. But already paranoid images filled his dreams. The eagle, the golden eagle of
the I.S. unit, dozens of them were flying down out of a storm-filled sky. And in the blood-dripping claws of each one, a human
skull, the prunelike faces shriveled back in shrunken head screams of total horror… then they dove for his skull.

He woke, kicking and shaking his fists. He was surrounded by feathers and beaks.

“No, no, it’s me, relax,” a voice said from out of the darkness. Stone opened his puffy eyes and saw Nurse Williamson in the
dim glow of a night-light across the room. “You had a bad dream. You were shivering. Here, I’ll put another blanket on you.
It got very cold suddenly outside—must be an arctic front coming in.” She grabbed a navy blue hospital blanket from a nearby
closet and unfolded it, spreading it over him with a quick throw. She came around to the front of the bed.

“There, is that better—” she started to ask. Without really being aware of what he was doing—just wanting her—Stone reached
out and grabbed her, arms pulling her down on top of him. She landed on his chest, their two bodies touching at every point.
She resisted at first. But as she felt the warmth, the need of his body to be next to hers, she gave in. She could feel something
melting inside her, a shield she had put up ever since she had joined the NAA. She hadn’t
let a man get this close to her since she’d been raped. Not that a lot hadn’t tried. But she felt something for Stone. Something
inexplicable. And rather than try to leave, she turned her head toward him and sought his lips like a bird too long denied
food. And when their tongues touched it was as if she exploded into a bomb of passion.

She pulled herself hard against him, crushing her breasts with all her strength against his lean strong chest. She buried
her face in his neck and groaned as his hands stroked up and down her back and along her womanly hips. Suddenly her whole
body began jerking uncontrollably as if she were on fire, as if steaming lava were pumping into her veins. She cleaved to
him and spread her legs quickly apart and wrapped around one of his thighs. Almost involuntarily she reached down and felt
for his hardness and gasped when she found it. It seemed impossible that she could take all of him.

She rose suddenly and undid the zipper on her back and slipped out of her nurse’s uniform and let it drop to the floor. Stone
looked at her with wide eyes that still had trouble focusing. But from what he could make out, she was a veritable goddess—breasts
like pomegranates standing out straight and firm, a thin waist and below glistening treasures that made his own erect staff
stand a little taller. She ran over to the door of the recovery room, locking it, and then turned off the light of the supply
closet. Now the only source of illumination was a kind of night-light—a five-volt bulb that plugged into the wall, casting
a gentle sheet of gold over the entire room.

Suddenly she was back in the bed with him and her body felt like Christmas and the Fourth of July and Polish Independence
Day all wrapped up into one. He had felt exhausted when he fell asleep and had slept in a near coma for
four hours before stirring from his nightmares. And somehow she made him feel awake. To say the least.

“Come here, nurse,” Stone laughed in the dark, reaching for her. “What is your name anyway?”

“Elizabeth,” a soft, quavering voice said from beside him on the bed.

“Elizabeth,” Stone whispered almost to himself. A beautiful name. She came to him ready to give him the perfect art and beauty
of her young body. Her breasts seemed to almost swell as his hands grasped them firmly and he squeezed hard. Her face flushed
with desire as she boldly dropped her hand down again and grabbed hold of him. Suddenly, as if under the control of a puppeteer,
she began twitching again as her frozen sexual energies unlocked and her muscles filled with jolts of electricity. She slid
down his entire body, licking him with her wet pointed tongue, from chest to navel. Then lower.

She kissed his staff, making it spring even higher, as if it had a life of its own. Her tongue rushed over the swollen shaft
as a moan of animal pleasure sang softly through her parted lips. Stone could smell the intoxicating aphrodisiac of her aroused
golden triangle of fur below. She moved up and down on his stiffness, barely able to take it into her small mouth, but wanting
to, trying to. Stone reached down and grabbed her around the already wet mound of fur between her legs. He grabbed hard and
squeezed and she responded like a cat in heat, dropping her head down, arching her whole back up. He played with the pink
petals of her sex and then pushed a finger deep into her. She seemed to spasm up and let out a whoosh of air, as she clenched
and unclenched around him.

Suddenly he reached down and put his hands around her waist, lifting her up toward him as if she were light as a
pillow. He pulled her to his chest and then reached down and grabbed behind each of her creamy thighs and pulled her up onto
him as he guided the long spear of flesh with one hand into her parted wet lips. She groaned, her eyes shutting tight, her
head falling to his shoulder in a swoon as the stiff organ plummeted into her core. She whipped her legs up around his waist
to make room for him and locked her ankles together behind his back.

He started pumping into her, slowly at first, and as both their passions heated up, harder and faster until he was like a
steam piston of slamming sensation inside of her, her triangle of light blonde hair dripping with the juices of her passions.
Stone forced himself ever deeper into her, as if mining for something, some vital part of her soul. He tore into her body,
forcing her legs apart, pushing into the darkest recesses of her body, taking her to the very summits of sensation that a
woman can know on this earth.

Suddenly she seemed to go into a complete frenzy of movement as waves of super sensation streamed up from her stomach and
her clitoris, which grinded against him. Her head slammed back and forth, eyes tightly shut, as the lowest of wildcat growls
rumbled through her mouth. Stone could feel his manhood grow even stiffer and longer, hard as hammered steel, and he grabbed
her round buttocks, pulling her against him until they felt as if they would merge into one pulsing flesh. His eyes suddenly
closed as he felt the thick fluid rise up and surge through the swollen organ, pumping into her with powerful, wild stabs.
He erupted in a volcanic explosion of white hot lava shooting into her boiling caverns.

Her entire body went completely rigid and her face paler and paler until it seemed all the blood had drained. Suddenly she
sucked in a breath and the blood filled her face again and
she let out with a long half scream, half howl of pleasure as her body vibrated around him like a blender trying to take down
a whale. It seemed to go forever, her entire body contracting from stomach to breasts, through her thighs. She jerked and
vibrated as he thrust into her, and came with the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced. They groaned simultaneously,
and for one glorious second they merged into one being, joined together in mindless, wonderful animal bliss.

CHAPTER
Eleven

W
HEN HE awoke again she was gone. The place in the bed by his side was still warm but her body was gone. She had run from him
in fear. Women were like that sometimes when they felt they had enjoyed themselves too much the night before. The superego
reasserted itself over the inner animal passions. But the animal would rise again. The superego would be hurled aside, and
she would come again.

He felt almost one hundred percent. The poison had run its course through his body, making love with Elizabeth had restored
him, had recharged his body. That’s why a man needs a woman—to replenish his battery with power. There is nothing like it.
Nothing. Who could say how or why. But touching her, being inside her, had healed him. The perfumes of a woman’s body were
more medicinal than all the sterile bottles science had to offer. Even his hand, which he lifted and looked at, was losing
its ghastly black-and-purple
color and returning to a reddish pink. The swelling had subsided completely. He still had a little trouble bending it, but
it worked.

He had scarcely had time to dwell on sweet musings of the night before when there was a loud knocking on the door. A barrel-chested
sergeant with clipboard and drill instructor’s hat barged into his room. He had a face like a squashed pumpkin—like something
that had been stepped on a few too many times—and huge cauliflower ears with what appeared to be worm holes embroidering their
edges.

“Training has begun. Report to the parade field in five minutes. And please don’t be late,” the man screamed with a mock sarcasm
of politeness. Stone stared after the sergeant as he pulled the door shut hard and stomped out, waking half the patients in
the place. Before he knew it he found himself up and dressing. He hadn’t even decided what the hell he was going to do. But
his curiosity was aroused. In a way he wondered just what the training was like. Besides, there was a lot about this whole
operation that confused him no end. There was nothing he could put his finger on but something was wrong somewhere. Or was
it just his fucking cynical core that found it so hard to believe that all these guys were for real, that he had found the
kind of people he had been searching for. Stone couldn’t even tell anymore; his intuitive distant early warning system seemed
to have blown a fuse.

He headed out of the building and walked down the main asphalt road that led through the center of Fort Bradley. Stone made
his way over to the twenty-five recruits who stood in slightly uneven lines facing a pole that held the flag of the NAA, crossed
M-16’s over the stars and stripes, this one a good six by seven feet in dimensions and hand-stitched with vivid red and blue
and white—and a silver metallic sheen for the rifles. It whipped loosely around in the breeze,
about thirty feet above their heads. Stone got into one of the back rows. A few hours of calisthenics would be good, he thought
to himself. Stretch him out. Get things shook up in there a little.

The drill sergeant waited impatiently, looking at his watch and then his clipboard. At last two more men came running down
the street pulling on their jackets and settled into place.

“Now, gentlemen, you are about to make the magical transformation from idiot into fighting soldier. We don’t go about training
the usual way here. Instead we have what we call the make-it-or-break-it method. This is, gentlemen, for the next two days
you are going to be pushed until every cell in your body is ready to explode; you will run and fight and climb and build until
you think your feet are going to turn to porridge and your legs to rubber bands. But still you’re going to go on, because
I’ll be right behind you, ready to kick you in the ass should you slow down. But mostly you’re going to to go because you
WANT to be a member of the most illustrious fighting force in America today. Don’t you, idiots?”

“Yes sir,” a few of the recruits in the first row spoke out.

“WHAT’S THAT?” the D.I. screamed so loudly back at them that a dog nearly half a mile away in the pens started barking.

“YES SIR,” every one of them shouted back, standing bolt upright, backs ramrod stiff. Even Stone joined in. Sort of.

The D.I. walked back and forth in front of them, a huge Polack, with a face like a cow and a body and shoulders that looked
like they could lift one. “I’m Sergeant Zynishinski. Don’t try to pronounce my name, just say ‘sergeant’ whenever you want
to address me. I’m the guy who runs this
forty-eight-hour marathon training. General Patton has his own ideas of war. If you get through this, you’re for us. If not,
it’s better to find out now. You’re going to hate my guts by the time we’re through. And wish you could send a howitzer on
my head or run a bayonet through me. And you know what, I’ll give you the opportunity to try it. But first”—he looked into
their apprehensive faces and snorted out a sigh of disgust. Then he spat a cupcake-sized gob of spittle onto the dirt. “Let’s
start with the basics.”

“First the sacred oath of our army. This oath is signed and sealed in blood. Only blood binds us together so that we can’t
be broken.” He handed a knife to the men at each end of the three lines. “These are the direct words of General Patton himself,
gentlemen idiots: ‘It is our common sacrifice of blood on the field of battle that makes us one, unites us in the war on evil,’”
He looked around at them, making sure they knew how to use the damned blades.