Turn East

A sign at the junction of the road indicates that there is a town four miles to the East and that alone gives you reason to turn from your original path. Even today, years after the war towns still hold salvage and there is always the possibility of finding people to trade with.

You set a brisk pace hopping to reach the town before the sun sets, but darkness is already falling as you crest the final hill and look down on the small town before you. Your hope of finding a trading post dies as you stare down at the derelict town; the tell-tale signs of fire and looting are obvious even in the gathering darkness.

A large fire in what appears to be the town square is the only indication that somebody inhabits the town. Yet the size of the fire gives you cause for concern, nobody builds a fire that big unless they feel pretty secure, which normally means a gang of some sort.

The need for shelter and supplies means you’re going to have to enter the town, like it or not. Unslinging your M16 you check to make sure the magazine is full before moving off down the hill, skirting through back gardens and alleyways as you make your way towards the town square.

Your suspicions were confirmed as you peer out from the shadows of an alleyway, four men stand around the fire, laughing and joking as the watch the two women before them. The girls have looks of complete terror upon their faces as they swaying back and forth as if to some imaginary music. Their clothes are torn and shredded giving you flashes of bare flesh and glimpses of undergarments as they move.

You focus your attention on the two women; the first is an older woman, maybe mid to late thirties. Her dirty blonde hair was cut rough around her shoulders as if she had done it herself, maybe 5’6”, slender. But what caught your attention most was her breasts, they appeared massive on her slime frame, D’s if not DD’s.

The other was younger, late teens, early twenties, her hair matched the other women’s in colour but fell almost to her waist. Were as the older women looked slim the younger looked almost skinny, almost as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Her breasts were ample nowhere near as large as the older woman’s but more than enough.

The sound of a shot dragged your attention back to the four men.

“Come on dance” one called out as he lowered his gun “Make it sexy, lose some of those rags you’re wearing” he added much to the amusement of his companions.

The more you watched the clearer it became as to what the men had planned, regardless how **** the women were to participate. Deep down you knew you should do something, but four against one is a tall order.