Not This August
A/N: This chapter blows but it sets the wheels in motion for the remainder of Part 2. Please take the time to actually read and see what's happening in the minds of the characters involved in the chapter.
I would apologize but none of you care so I won't. I have a reader who puts this all in print. Any mistakes are hers, not mine LOL!
Seriously, she is a gem and if you speak ill of her you shall pay dearly.
Reparata
Chapter 6
Leslie Winkle sat quietly in her one-bedroom cottage near the runway at Island International. Once it had been their home but since Bomber had found more friendly skies, it was just hers now. She sat in leggings and a t-shirt sipping a stolen bottle of wine and making notes on a legal pad.
If you looked at her you'd immediately think of someone deep in thought, perhaps writing a letter to a loved one from the tight smiles that occasionally flitted across her face.
But if you really looked at her, you'd see grim determination in the way she was grinding her jaw. Those tight, fleeting smiles occurred when thoughts of being in control, calling the shots, directing the rebuilding of a society as she thought it should be, crossed her mind.
And of revenge.
In her mind those mornings spent with Sheldon during the Exodus were the most precious to her in recent memory. Together they had made decisions and formulated plans in the cold absence of emotion. She had felt herself drawn to the man she had only thought of as 'Dumbass'. If only that clingy stupid bitch hadn't gotten him by the balls and screwed her way into his life and bed. Her and her hayseed parents had blinded him to the one woman who perfectly suited him on an intellectual and social level. Her.
Instead she had settled for a purely physical and sexual relationship with Hideki while her longing grew for the lanky physicist she knew she could mentor and push in the 'right' direction. And now that was gone.
She should have made her feelings known. Cooper was logical and she certainly had had logic on her side during those dreadful days of their Exodus before the blonde had wheedled her way into his heart. When he told her about the marauders and what he'd done in Douglas, she'd felt a frisson of lust so strong she almost orgasmed sitting there beside him.
She should have moved then, taken him to the room above the lobby of the lodge and given herself to him, filling his heart and mind with her presence, her emotional needs, letting him experience exstacy on a level he'd never know before.
Together, they would have ruled the colony, directed its development towards a strong society instead of this mongrel mass of losers who debated every little aspect of every little thing to death and whined and complained about being deprived of things they felt were rightfully theirs.
But she hadn't. And she'd lost the opportunity of a lifetime and now deeply resented him and his place on the lofty moral high ground. The only time she'd seen him waiver was when he had executed the rapist in front of almost the entire community. His 'I don't agree' was tantamount to anointing himself ruler even though he always bowed to the majority of the Council's decisions unless he muttered 'I don't agree' and that always swayed any re-vote.
'If I can't have him by my side, I'll settle for out of my way. Now, how do I do that?'
Elements of the United States Recovery Forces overran Grayling and again a score of refugees were swept up by one of the Colonial Forces' patrols. But among the refugees was a deserter from the USRF and he was quite loud about it when he was interviewed for placement.
"I ain't no goddamned Nazi. The Plague took almost all of us. Don't see no point in killin' or drivin' out what few of us survive just because they violate some damned racial purity rules. We got a chance to start over fresh and those idiots…sorry, just don't see the point."
David Hampton sat down with the deserter, Daniel Flowers, and then asked for a special meeting with the Council. He wanted them to hear this first-hand and decide what to do. He knew what he'd do but lately, well, lately the prevailing mood had been divided between the isolationists, led by Dr. Winkle, and everyone else. And 'everyone else' seemed unable to focus on anything except thwarting the policies of Dr. Winkle. Even the Executor seemed focused only on increasing the early warning lines via long-range patrolling and armed recovery teams.
To someone like Hampton, it smacked of a quagmire and he knew first hand what happened when the military got bogged down in politics - nothing good.
"Wait here. I have some people I need you to talk to. They won't be happy and they will be loud but don't take it personally. Once you've made it this far, you can relax and find your place in the Colony. Just don't expect a lot of hugs and kisses from some of our newer arrivals."