The Rescuer Bk. 03 Pt. 02

tagIncest/TabooThe Rescuer Bk. 03 Pt. 02

Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help and making this a better story.
This story is a continuation of the Rescuer & The Rescuer Bk. 02. They're good fun reads on their own, and it helps set up this story. It's not required reading, but as I said, it's a good read.
*****
Chapter 5 – Something Different
It's Spring now, and the lodge is bustling with campers and hunters. This is our busy time of year. Over the next several months several big game animals can be hunted. I have time off scheduled, so I can help.
When I get summoned to the CO's office, I have this terrible feeling that my vacation time is about to be revoked. The CO, Craig, has just told his secretary to let me in.
Craig warmly greets me, "Hello Ben! Please sit down. Would you like water or soda?"
I reply with a fake grin on my face, "So, I lost my vacation time, right? The busiest time of the year for my family. The place has been completely reserved for nine months. It's about that, right?"
All the wind deflates from his sails.
Craig looks defeated, "You got me. That's precisely what I am going to ask of you and one of your sisters. Montreal has asked for you specifically and another family member. I have no idea why but bring your rifle and your ninja outfit. I know, I know, it's a camouflage suit." I laugh when they call it a ninja outfit. "You leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn."
We salute, and I leave.
Outside the building, I call Bubba, "Hi, Dad, I need a date."
Bubba laughs, "Like when have you ever had problems getting a date?"
I laugh and then reply, "Craig is sending me specifically and one of my sisters to Montreal. Do you know anything, and which one do you want me to take?"
Bubba sounds confused, "Which one do you want?"
I playfully ask, "Daaaaaad, you want me to be responsible for picking one of six sisters? Oh no. It's a lot safer having you make that decision. I want no part of that."
Bubba chuckles, "I see your wisdom. Take Kathy. That will give Ann and Debbie some playtime with Fred, and it won't cause a fight between your three. It's the safest option. I have heard rumblings about the budget, my guess is you're joining a competition. Have fun. Let me guess, break of dawn tomorrow, right?"
I smile, "Close, crack of dawn. Thanks, dad. See you in a few days."
I call Kathy, "Hi sis. At the crack of dawn tomorrow you and I are going to Montreal. Bring your rifle. Bubba thinks it might be some show for budget people. Craig told me nothing, he wasn't told anything. They asked for a sister and me."
Good old happy Kathy responds, "Fuck you. I'm your "plus one" – what – for meals? They just want a woman to ogle over?"
Yikes, why is she always such a pain in the ass, "Just telling you what I know. Bubba picked you. You do need your rifle, that tells me you will be shooting at least. I will pick you up, a Jeep will take us to B13. We get a jet at least."
She hangs up on me. Oh, this is going to be fun.
+++++
The next morning Kathy is waiting for us as the Jeep pulls up. Rifle case, a backpack, and her dog are all loaded up. I have a rifle case and a backpack. I am still without a dog for a while.
We board the plane we saw land a little while ago. It has enough fuel, so we load, and off we go. As Kathy is walking down the aisle of the small plane, several guys ask her to sit with them. She grunts at them and continues towards the back. I follow her. One of the guys tries to pull rank, too bad, I outrank him by a lot. They leave us alone.
Once in the back, Kathy takes the window and a blanket. Her dog is in the seat in front of us. I am surprised she is not with her dog. She yawns and then leans towards me. She has her head on my shoulder, her breasts on my arm, and an arm around my body. She falls asleep.
Once in Montreal, we board an old bus and are taken to some barracks. There is a male and female side. There are two females. Then we go to the mess hall and have our first problem. They don't allow dogs or rifles in the mess tent.
I don't know who is in charge. Who do I call? A guy I don't know offers to hold our weapons while we eat. That's not happening. I take Kathy by the arm, and we walk back to the bus.
The bus driver says, "Sir, your orders are to eat."
I reply, "I am not leaving this awesome creature alone in a strange location, and there is no way in hell these two rifles leave our line of sight. The people that brought us here know these things. That tells me they are either incredibly stupid or they intended for us not to eat. So, you see, I am following orders."
The bus driver texts someone, then yells back to us, "Try the mess hall again."
Kathy snickers as we walk off the bus again. This time we have no issues getting in, getting fed, and getting out. Kathy's dog got three steaks. That is one happy dog. As we are getting back on the bus, we are last on. Halfway back, the dog sits. Oh hell.
I yell to the bus, "Everyone off the bus and bring your equipment." They get off the bus. "I want everyone to line up."
One guy spouts off, "Who left you as the boss?"
I snap back, "My captain's bars."
I have Kathy take her dogs along the line. The dog stops at mister loud-mouth.
I ask him, "You want to pull it out, or do I have to pull all your shit out for all to see?"
He is evasive, "Pull, what out?"
I move closer, "Illegal drugs."
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a brick size device with black tape all over it. It's a training device for dogs. Kathy rewards the dog with some treats and pats him on the head. Good dog.
The guy shouts out, "Test over, back on the bus ladies. Good job, kid."
I don't like being tested; I'm now surly. Kathy pushes me towards the bus. We are taken to a firing range. I heard it before I saw it. This is a special range, it's 800 yards long. I bet they can change all the factors we account for. 800 is the maximum, they will use 700 yards for the test. Kathy and I are used to 1,000 outdoors.
One of the guys is funny talking to me, "I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face."
I laugh at him, "That's going to be hard because I'm not shooting tonight unless they have moving targets.
He taunts me, "Hiding behind a little girl?"
I explain, "If you can beat her, there is no point in me shooting because I'm the worst shot in the family. Well, last we tested I was."
You know how this ends; nobody is even close to Kathy. She is an excellent shot.
Kathy taunts me, "Show me what you got, little brother?"
Interestingly, she is allowing me to show off. Ok, I pull out my rifle, assemble it, and take a single practice shot. I then put five shots in precisely the same spot. It looks like one bullet hole. They look at a camera to verify.
I explain, "We shoot outdoors at up to 1,000 yards. We use .50 caliber rounds. Last we tested; I was a few millimeters worse. Let me show you what I am good at."
I have them run a target down 800 yards at full speed. I am four lanes over, on an angle. The target runs away from me, but not straight back, that would be too easy. Starting at 500 yards, I put four bullseyes in it. With this, you can see a spread in the shots. Not one is on top of the other, one is by itself. Several others try, and nobody even hits the target twice, other than Kathy.
A guy in the back asks, "Is it the weapon or the soldier?"
I salute the man, then everyone else does as well.
I answer, "Sir, I'm a fine shot with this weapon because it's the world's best prototype right now. The next generation sniper rifles will take from this elegant weapon. I shoot almost as good with my personal weapon, and with enough practice, I would be great with any NATO sniper rifle. Any sniper is a product of their ability and their weapon.
"Grandpa Ben liked the .50 caliber shell. The family has stayed with it. Our friends keep us supplied with the depleted uranium rounds as well."
The man asks, "Your friends?"
I shake my head, "Sorry, sir, you don't rank high enough."
He tests me, "Are you sure?"
I reply straight-faced, "There are only two people that know everything outside of my family, you aren't either of them. This is special because it's strong, light, and semi-automatic. It makes you a better shot because there is less fatigue from holding the rifle, waiting for the shot. We are teaching our base to shoot moving targets. That way, you don't have to wait for your target to stop. It's also great practice for duck hunting."
Once back at the barracks, Kathy and I are summoned by two MP's. We are driven over to the most prominent and most awesome house on the base. In Canada, one man is over all the military. Tom retired, and now Max is in charge. He is old school military. Sitting in a chair opposite of him is Tom.
Kathy and I both salute both men and then run up to Tom. He is an old friend of dad's and Grandpa.
Tom immediately starts with, "Tell him how dumb he is."
Max will have none of that, "It's eating a lot of my budget. I can't afford them anymore."
Doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure this one out. Kathy regurgitates facts and numbers, but Max is now lost. He isn't a numbers guy; he doesn't like budgets. This is a man of action.
I stand up, "Everyone, come with me. I want to show you something."
Now I have Max's attention.
Even Kathy looks interested. We go out in the hallway, down a corridor, and then into a room with trophies and other unique items. I stop them at a circular open-air room with a round table in the center. People can walk around it. In the center, encased in clear plastic is a rifle.
I ask Tom and Max, "Do you recognize the weapon? Tom, you should."
Max looks unimpressed, "It looks handmade."
I grin, "It is. My grandfather Ben made this rifle, it's mostly a Winchester. My grandmother Kim did the scrollwork. Look at it closely and then a few feet away."
The look of shock on Tom's, Max's, and Kathy's faces is fantastic.
I point out the backside of the stock, "What do you see?"
Max gets out his glasses, "It looks like names."
I ask, "How many, roughly?"
Tom guesses 85, Max guesses 120, and Kathy says 140.
I smile, "They stopped at 161 because there was no space left. That's 161 servicemen's lives that he saved. What does it cost to bury a serviceman, to pay death benefits to the widow and the three kids? What does it cost to train his replacement? What's the human cost of the family that no longer has a mother or a father?
"All that money is saved when grandpa saved each life on that stock. He did it several hundred times. My dad and his generation repeated that success while my brother, sisters, and I continued that trend. We save money, we save lives, we save families. You still want to save money by cutting our budget? That sounds like the worst decision you will ever make.
"I understand we cost money. I understand you need to cut budgets. I also understand that you don't have to write the letters to the husbands and wives at home that their loved one was killed in the line of duty. I know that's laying it on thick. I have seen what my brother and sisters do with those dogs, and it's incredible. Ever since Grandma Mary started training dogs, the amount of time to bring a sniper up to speed dropped astronomically."
Max stands, looking at the weapon, "That sure is a fine-looking weapon. I understand your sled dogs are highly sought after due to the military training they get. That's some operation you have up there."
Kathy snickers, "I think you need to come up with Tom sometime. We can entertain your wife if needed."
Max smiles, "That old codger has been saying that. Maybe I do. Here on base, we hear all kinds of outlandish stories. Do you have some time to tell the real stories about your parents and grandfather?"
Kathy answers for me, "He sucks at looking out for his own good. We have a few hours before we need to head back and get some sleep. I think we can keep your interest, at least for a while."
For four hours, Kathy and I tell the old stories that we have been told and a few we saw. We kept both Tom and Max quite entertained. Kathy finally cuts us off.
Kathy looks at me, "I'm sorry, guys. He is still recovering and gets worn out easily. I need to take him back to the barracks."
Max interrupts Kathy, "You can stay here if you like. I have an extra bed, and my housekeeper would love to have you for breakfast. I guarantee you the bed is far better than the cots, and Maggie's cooking is also far better than the mess hall. I will set out some towels for you so you can shower in the morning. Let me show you the way."
Once in the bedroom, Kathy undresses me, threw me in bed, and then got in bed in front of me. She likes being held as much as the others do. Interesting.
Kathy whispers, "Thank you for including me all day. They all know you're the superstar, yet you let me show off shooting and telling stories. That was sweet of you."
I fall straight asleep.
+++++
The next morning, we have a fabulous breakfast, and then we are shipped out to a forest. We are looking at the forest with everyone lined up in a row.
Max yells at everyone, "Today, we play hide and seek. Ben, when you catch someone, send them back my way. I am giving Ben a five-minute head start. Then I want all of you to find him and send him back here. Ben? … GO!"
I run into the woods with my outfit at my side. I don't want them to know what I look like. As soon as I am under cover, I put my suit on. I run North into the woods for a bit, then I run East, along the line of trees. About 400 yards, there is tape and a line of soldiers. Damn, small area. I run back and almost run into one of them. I stop, turn around, put my hand over their mouth and whisper, "You're dead."
I point the way back.
The first ten are easy, they spread out. This group of four, stick together. Shit, there is a man in front of me that is in stealth. Slowly, I sneak up on him. I throw my voice as a stick breaking in front of him, and he flinches.
My hand is around his mouth, and I have a knife in front of his eyes, "You're dead, go back." He won't be the only one. I find three more, they are in a square, evenly spaced out.
Now for the other four. I send out the sound of footsteps. They run after it. I do it again, and they run. I do it again, this time I grab one. I force them to run two more times, we are down to one guy now. I make him run back to the edge of the trees. I make the running sounds, and he runs out of the trees. He runs to the right, to the left, back at me, past me.
Finally, I yell at him, with my outfit off, "Who the fuck are you chasing?"
He yells back, "He was right …"
He shut up.
Everyone laughs hard at him, other than the four of Max's men. He looks sternly at them.
One guy shrugs his shoulders, "He came from behind me; I had no clue. I turned around a few feet away as I walked back, and I never saw him again. The kid is good, really good."
Max yells, "Ok, Kathy, time for you to do your thing. There are two smugglers out there, find them."
I stop them, "Wait a minute. That's not how we operate. We are Rescuers. Now, we might assist some regular soldiers, but we are not an assault force. You have a pilot that ejected, is lost, or other special situations, we do that. In this case, one of us might tag along with ten men.
"I might have special skills that are offensive, but at my core, I'm a Rescuer. Like the Army, we bring overwhelming force when needed. We will go behind enemy lines to retrieve a pilot or maybe check out an area for smugglers. In those cases, we're avoiding contact. When we assist units, we are snipers."
I call the loudmouth over and quietly give him some instructions. He takes off running when I am done. Max looks at me, confused.
I smile at him, "This is a standard training mission we do. I need everyone to come with me. You all want to see how we work with the dogs, right?" They do. "Two things you need to know. One, when the dog stops, he smells explosives or drugs. He will sit near the source. Two, when he points, stop dead in your tracks. The direction he is pointing towards has a threat. I said direction, not elevation.
"They might be flat on their belly, standing behind a tree, up a tree, or up on a ledge. All we know is the direction, nothing more. Yet, that warns us to slow down. So, if the dog points, we slow down. Let's all go for a walk. You too, Max, you need to understand what we do. I will let Kathy get up in front; we will stay back about twenty yards."
For about ten minutes, we amble through the forest. Everyone but Kathy and I are bored. Kathy stops and puts up the halt sign. She can see the guy. Slowly, she inches closer. I call out softly to Kathy, "Sniper, high left."
I ask Max, "Shall I put a bullet above his head, or will you declare him dead?"
I see Max text on his phone.
We start moving closer. Kathy freezes as Freckles, sits next to a rock.
I ask Max, "Is it live?"
He gives me a look of "Really?"
I smile at him.
I smile at the group, "I will consider it disarmed, and you three are alive because of that dog."
As we move closer, Freckles points to the right. Everyone stops. I give the look of someone with a machine gun shooting out in an arc. They all do the same thing and make a machine gun noise.
I slip away. I don't have my suit, but for this, I won't need it. I slip around and behind the guy that was sitting in a bush.
I poke my gun into his back, and he stands up and shouts, "OH!" He wasn't more than forty feet from the line of fire. He would have been killed by the line of soldiers.
I say to Max, "Sometimes we do go solo. Many times, we call in backup. Superior force and better intel always win."
Max shakes my hand and Kathy's hand, "Thank you so much for these demos. The rest of these people are the best shots in the Army. You made them look like amateurs. The rest of you get on the bus, a plane will take you back.
"You two, Gina brought your Gulfstream. I would like you all to stay for dinner and stories again. That was awesome last night. I have an extra room."
I look bashful, "That won't be needed. Growing up, we had a shortage of bedrooms. It took a while for my parents to finally add-on a lot of space to our home. We got used to sleeping together on cold nights. Gina won't be able to sleep on her own outside of the house. I know, I know, sounds weird. We were a family that made do with what we had, it's what our parents did. We all sleep better with any of our family members, and we're all interchangeable.
"You do know that most of my sisters aren't my sisters, right? Just like I don't really have two dads and four moms. I guess you could say we were raised like in a commune."
Max wipes his forehead, "No, I didn't know. I was getting worried there."
I try to sound unhappy, "We live on the edge of the civilized world. Few city girls want to come to live up by us. They love visiting, but that's it. My sisters have the same problem with boys."
I then go on to tell a bunch of stories and slept soundly with both sisters. I did hear Max check on us. We were spooning, and they were asleep. Freckles and Gina's dog Moe both growled when the door cracked open.
He closed it quickly.
+++++
The next morning, we again had another excellent breakfast and spent some time with Max and his wife before taking my sisters shopping for a few hours. Max had a ton of questions about our hunting trips and my parents' time as Rescuers. I finally told some of ours. He was less impressed with those, he read each one with exquisite detail. He knew them better than I did because he understood the perspectives of the others on my team.

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