Note: There is no sex in the first chapter (maybe more) of this story. We'll get there. It's a multi-part piece, and I really want to set stuff up before I get to the sex. I hope you all enjoy my first submission to Literotica.
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It was just luck that she survived. Most people wouldn't have given her a snowball's chance in an inferno of being that lucky. It had been her day off, she'd decided to take a drive, and when the bombs hit she'd been halfway between here and there. She saw the flashes and stopped at the filling station at the halfway point of the turnpike. She bought all the beef jerky and dried fruit that the filling station had along with filling up her gas tank. From old military training she realized that this would be the last time she spent actual money on anything for a good long time. If anyone else realized what was happening, they'd be doing the same, but Deirdre had little faith in the intelligence of other people.
"Going camping?" Was the question from the clerk when she showed up with her beef jerky, bottled water, and dried fruit and nuts.
"Something like that."
"It's cheaper at the grocery store." He said with a little sneer.
"Yeah, you guys have my favorite kind, though." She made a mental note to hit some outlying Wal-Marts. They'd be relatively safe because of the lack of windows. Most people didn't realize that radioactivity behaved like sunlight, if it came up against a brick wall it'd just bounce off. Something in her hardened, then. She walked back out to the car, and drove off.
She gave her situation some thought, and turned on AM radio. The news wasn't good, not only had there been nuclear attacks in most major cities, some genius had figured out a way to sneak a biological agent into the mix as well. The zombie apocalypse was good and started, and the situation in the cities was totally out of control. She was in an enviable position with her car full of gas and dried foods. She sat in the car for a few minutes trying to decide what to do, and grinned slightly as an idea struck her. Who better to consolidate and help her then a few men she'd known before. She was more than aware that her life was now going to be measured in 'before' and 'after' the blasts.
Everything had changed in an instant. She made a few phone calls--cell phones still worked, as no one had thought to turn anything off the instant before the bombs hit. She wondered how long that would last, and tried to reach all of her family. Nothing. The calls were even going through, which surprised her somewhat, but apparently everyone had been in the blast zone or contaminated by the 'virus' that was killing people too slowly. From the radio, the National Guard and police forces that were left were ripping through the 'zombies' but the numbers of the infected were overwhelming them.
She turned the car toward Poteau, Oklahoma and started to drive.
She stopped at a gas station when the gauge registered about half. The electricity was still on in the station, but no one was there. She figured out how to release the gas pumps and filled up her car. Also, she took every bit of dried fruit, meat, and water out of the place. Her car was filling up, but there was no help for that. She had an idea of where to go anyway, and what she was going to do. She had a plan. That was more than most people had, anyway, and she was really clear on what was going to happen in the next six hours. What she was considering was absolutely crazy in the world that had been three hours ago, but in the new world it made plenty of sense. Two hours later, she rolled up on the prison.
The area was gorgeous, the prison had been built by the CCC in the 1950's. She knew about it, honestly, because her grandfather had been in the CCC. There was a lot of history behind Jim E. Hamilton Correctional Facility, but the part that Deirdre liked the best is that there was a lot of vo-tech training going on there. The place was kind of far away from society, and also there were a couple of guys she knew there. She was clear from having visited a couple of times that there were really a minimal amount of guards at any given time, and with everything else that had happened, she was really kind of expecting what she found.
There were about four guards left, and they were somewhat panicked. They had the inmates locked down, but almost everyone else had fled. Deirdre walked calmly up to the building, and went in through the front door. The guards were arguing over what to do with the inmates, and the options ranged pretty much from letting them go to shooting them all. Deirdre, unnoticed by the four men, pulled out her pistol, sighted the guy that wanted to kill the 654 inmates, and shot him through his head.
The other three, unarmed, turned to look at her babbling like idiots.
"We won't be having any slaughter of minimum security inmates." Her voice was calm, firm, and the officers--although slightly rebellious-looking--at least were shocked into silence by her sudden violence.
"What are we going to do?" Asked one of the men.
"Have you done anything about cooking dinner?" Asked Deirdre.
"Well, no."
"I suggest you get out some inmates and get to it, then. And I suggest you treat them nicely. They may not know what's going on now, but they will soon, and at that point things are going to change."
She felt the officer creeping up behind her with the same sense she'd known when her children were up to something. She turned and shot him twice in the chest.
"The rules have changed, gentlemen. There are two of you now unless you've left someone to babysit the inmates. Let's get dinner started. And I'll need a set of keys and the current census."
The youngest officer, Jim Thomas by his name tag, got the stuff she'd asked for. She took it and started looking through the census when he spoke.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"Why?" His gesture took in more than the two dead men on the floor. It took in Deirdre, and by default, her pistol. It took in her actions.
She heard the door behind her, and smoothly turned and knelt. Her marksmanship was as good as ever, and the officer she'd sent to get dinner ready fell with a bullet hole in his chest and one in his head. He was holding a rifle and never got off a shot, not even a wild one.
