Prisoner of War, Part 1
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Story of a woman soldier in an all-female POW camp

It was the year 2012 and the Second American Civil War had been raging for
two years now.  The war was now locked in a bloody stalemate throughout 
most of the country.  Both sides had suffered heavy casualties.  Some
talked of peace, but it was well known that the political differences
between the two sides were still too large for a lasting peace to have any
chance of working.

Private First Class Jill Alvarez, 2nd Platoon, C Company, 79th Battalion,
8th Infantry Brigade, American Liberation Army, sat at her station in the
trench in the middle of the Nevada desert.  Her platoon had been assigned
to this lonely stretch of trench in the middle of nowhere.  The hot August
sun beat down on them, and the unpleasantly warm wind blew dust in the
soldiers' eyes.  They kept a constant lookout to the southeast, where the
territory was held by their opponents, the American Patriots' Army. "Funny
that two armies whose politics are so different have such similar names,"
thought Jill.

She brushed some dust out of her dark brown hair and took a small sip of
water from her canteen.  She had been a 19-year-old college student when
the war broke out two years ago.  She personally had remained neutral at
first, but when soldiers from one army raided her college and killed
several of her friends, she joined the other side.  Now she was 21 years
old and a hardened soldier, although she was trying very hard to 
maintain at least a little bit of the spirit of her youth.  She had been
through many battles, and was considered one of the lucky ones as she had
only been wounded once.  Although at 5'6" and 125 pounds she was somewhat
smaller than the average soldier, her muscular body and determined 
attitude made her just as tough as any of them.  

Jill smiled at the soldier next to her, her best friend, Private Lisa Ford.
Lisa smiled back, moving over to Jill to talk to her.  The two of them,
being the only women in their platoon of twenty, as well as being the same
age, had naturally become close friends. As they chatted, their commanding
officer, Lieutenant Bellman, came over and scowled at them. "This ain't no
slumber party, girls," he said. "Quit gabbin' and get back to lookin'."
With sighs and rolled eyes after the lieutenant had turned his back and 
gone on his way, the women got back to lookin'.  Jill picked up her AK-47,
while Lisa grabbed her M-16.  The rifles for the platoon were a mixture of
M-16s from the old American army and cheap foreign AK-47s, imported in
large numbers.

Suddenly, a large form crested the brown hills to the southeast, quickly
followed by four more forms. "Enemy armor southeast!" shouted Lisa.  All
the soldiers instantly jumped to alertness.  Five tanks were approaching
their position.  Behind the tanks came several vehicles filled with enemy
infantry.

BOOM! A tank shell smashed into the dirt in front of the soldiers. Another
BOOM came as another shell hit the ground, behind them this time. 
Lieutenant Bellman was yelling into the field telephone. "Request immediate
airstrike for Nevada Line Q, Section 27!"

A huge explosion came from in front of them.  The leading tank had struck 
a land mine and blown up.  The soldiers cheered, but had little time to
celebrate, as the rest of the enemy was closing in on them fast. More tank
shells exploded around them.  One soldier with a rocket launcher took out
another enemy tank.

Now the shells were accompanied by machine-gun fire.  Another rocket from
the trench took out a third tank, but just then a shell landed right in the
center of the defensive line, killing half the members of the platoon,
including Lieutenant Bellman.  Jill and Lisa, having been knocked down by
the blast, both quickly scrambled to their feet.

The two remaining tanks continued to pound the trench with shells and
machine-gun fire.  The enemy infantry dismounted their vehicles and began
charging the trench. The defenders quickly opened fire. Jill had personally
cut down four enemy soldiers, while Lisa's score was even higher, when a
sudden burst of machine-gun fire struck Lisa in the chest and she fell dead.

"NOOOOOO!" screamed Jill, bending over her friend.  Another soldier poked
her from behind. "Keep firing!" he said.  With a grim look on her pretty
face, she went back to firing at the advancing enemy, but they were
hopelessly outnumbered.  Several more defenders were killed or wounded by
enemy bullets.

Soon, there were only five of them left, two of whom were wounded.  The
highest ranking soldier remaining, Sergeant Williams, saw the hopelessness
of the situation and raised a white flag of surrender. The sounds of battle
ceased.

A group of dirty, scruffy-looking enemy soldiers appeared.  Jill and her
companions were roughly disarmed and ordered to march out of the trench.
She supported the soldier next to her, who had been shot in the thigh.  As
they were prodded towards the enemy lines, Jill noted with pride that there
were at least thirty dead enemy troops lying in various undignified 
positions in front of the trench.  Still, there were at least seventy 
remaining infantry soldiers, as well as the two remaining tanks.  Looking
around, she observed that about one in eight of the enemy soldiers was
female, about the same ratio as in her own army.  Most of the troops were
occupying and fortifying the trench.  The wounded were being evacuated in
vehicles.  The five prisoners were led to another vehicle.  The driver and
an officer were already seated in the cab.  The prisoners were ordered into
the open back of the truck.  Two guards jumped in after them, then the
vehicle drove off down a lonely, crudely built dirt road.  Soon the trench
was far behind them.

"Any chance of a prisoner exchange soon?" asked Sergeant Williams.

"Quiet.  No talking," growled one of the guards.  In the front, Jill could
see the officer talking on a telephone, but she couldn't hear what he was
saying.  She bandaged as best she could the wounded leg of the soldier next
to her.  The growly guard looked at her intensely, but said nothing.

After about half an hour of driving, they came to a small outpost.  The
vehicle came to a stop.  The officer got out of the cab and walked around 
to the back of the truck.  He pointed a finger at Jill. "You, the girl. Get
out."

Jill stood up. "Stay safe and good luck," she said as calmly as she could
manage as she dismounted the vehicle.  The others waved goodbye to her.
"Take care," said Sergeant Williams.  He was about to say something more
when he was elbowed in the side by Growly the guard. "I said no talking,"
growled Growly.

The truck drove off with the other prisoners, soon becoming a dusty speck
on the horizon.  Jill looked around.  The outpost held two large tents, a
few vehicles, two officers, and about fifteen enlisted soldiers.  She then
looked at the officer who had ordered her out of the truck, who was still
standing next to her. "May I have some information, please, or am I not
allowed to talk here either?"

The officer managed a short laugh. "Humor's always a good sign," thought
Jill. The officer said, "Your friends are being taken to the main POW camp
in this sector.  You're going to be taken to the women's POW camp down
thataways.  A jeep should be here in a few minutes to pick you up."

She nodded. "Are the guards there as bad as Growly?" she asked.

He seemed puzzled for a few seconds, then understood who she meant, 
managing another laugh. "Some of 'em are decent," he said. "But some of 'em
are even worse than Growly, as you call him, and that's saying a lot.  Some
of those ladies can be pretty vicious.  But if you know when to keep your
mouth shut, you shouldn't be too bad off.  The guards reserve most of their
abuse for the loudmouths and troublemakers."

"I suppose it could be worse," thought Jill.  Just then, the sound of an
engine was heard. An army jeep approached the outpost and braked to a stop.
A young male soldier was driving, and a female soldier was sitting in the
front passenger seat.  The female soldier jumped out and saluted the
officer. "Here for the prisoner, Captain," she said.

Jill was hustled into the back seat of the jeep.  The woman soldier climbed
in beside her, her AK-47 on her lap.  The driver started the vehicle,
turning around quickly and heading back on the dusty side road where it had
come from.  Jill's firm little butt bounced uncomfortably as the jeep
lurched along on its rough journey.

She turned to the guard, figuring it wouldn't hurt to try to make some
friendly conversation. "So, what's it like at the camp?" she asked.

"Oh, it's not too bad, if you like hard labor under the hot desert sun,"
chuckled the guard. "The food's not too bad either, if you're fond of eatin'
insects as a side dish." She laughed again, then said, "Of course, for us
guards, it's a lot nicer.  Take my advice.  If you're ever lucky enough to
get exchanged, apply to be a prison camp guard.  You don't have to get your
ass shot at, and you get to push people around."

Jill asked a few more questions, discovering that although the commandant
of the POW camp and some of the errand-runners were male, all the guards 
who had close interactions with the prisoners were female.  She also
learned that there were about 400 prisoners at the camp at the moment.
Psychoanalyzing the guard sitting next to her, she decided that the guard 
was an immature person who enjoyed having power over others.  She was not 
cruel by nature, but she could be pressed to do cruel things. "Probably 
pretty typical of the guards at the camp," she thought.

After Jill was done with her few questions, they rode the rest of the way
in silence.  It was almost two hours before the POW camp became visible
just ahead.  By then it was late afternoon and the reddening sun was low in
the western sky. "Welcome to Camp Sunflower," announced the guard. "The 
name is a lot more pleasant than the camp itself.  Have an enjoyable stay,
although you might find that rather difficult." She snickered.  Jill wished
she was facing her in a boxing ring instead of being a prisoner at her 
mercy.

The jeep approached the gate of Camp Sunflower.  The guard on duty nodded
and raised the bar to allow the vehicle to pass. The camp was a grim, drab-
looking place.  The buildings were hastily constructed and their 
architecture was ugly.  Nothing but dry brown desert hills could be seen in
any direction.  

The vehicle squeaked to a stop in front of a small, low building labeled
PROCESSING.  Through a second set of gates, Jill could see orange-clad
female prisoners milling about.  The guard poked her. "Out, girlie," she
said.  They exited the jeep, which then drove off around the corner.  The
guard poked her rifle into Jill's back and marched her into the building.

The building was air-conditioned.  Jill was glad to get out of the 100-
degree heat, even for just a few moments.  A young-looking female officer
was seated at a desk.  There was one closed door in the back and two more
closed doors leading off to the right.  The guard saluted and announced,
"One more catch today, Lieutenant."

The young lieutenant casually saluted back, then with a quick glance up and
down at Jill, asked her for her name, rank, and serial number.  After that,
the guard who had brought her in and another female guard led her through
one of the doors on the right and into a small, bare room.

"Okay, girlie.  Off with your clothes," said the guard who had brought her
in. "Strip search and change of uniform." Jill removed all her clothes and
placed them into a neat pile.  The second guard began examining them.  She
then stood naked in the middle of the room. She made quite a pretty picture. 
Her shoulder-length dark brown hair cascaded down freely.  Her body was 
tanned and well-muscled all over.  There was a little patch of dark brown
pussy hair at her crotch.  Above it were her toned, hard abs and above that
her small, firm breasts stood proudly.  She rolled her eyes as the first
guard examined her like a piece of meat.

The second guard finished examining her old clothes. "Clean," she said. She
looked intensely at Jill.  She was younger and friendlier-looking than the
other guard. "I'll get your new clothes," she said. "The uniforms are easy,
just small, medium, and large.  You'll be a medium.  Now as for the 
underclothes - let me guess." She examined Jill's breasts closely. "Thirty-
four B?" she asked.  Jill nodded and the guard laughed. "I'm getting pretty
good at this," she said.  She exited the room and returned moments later
with a plain-looking white set of bra and panties and an orange prison
uniform.  Prisoner #27633 was already marked on the uniform.  Jill quickly
put on her new clothes. The cold air conditioning had made her nipples hard.

"Shoes?" asked the second guard. "Size eight," replied Jill.  The guard
rummaged through a box, then tossed her a pair of old shoes. "Here's a pair
of nines.  Closest we can get." Jill slipped on her shoes as she was 
escorted back into the main room.  The first guard noticed her tilting her
head back to enjoy the air conditioning and laughed. "This is the last of
that, girlie," she smirked. "Air conditioning's too good for your barracks.
Have fun sweating!" She gave Jill a hard shove out the front door.

The second guard escorted Jill to the prisoners' side of the barracks. "I'm
sorry about her," she said. "She's one of those people who enjoys lording
it over others and it makes her a bitch." She reached into her pockets and
handed Jill a piece of bread and some beef jerky. "Take these," she said.
"The prisoners have already eaten dinner and there won't be any more food
until tomorrow morning." 

Jill took the food with an expression of gratitude. "Thank you," she said.
As she munched on it, she wondered what things would be like if it weren't
for the war. She and the guard might have been college roommates, or sports
teammates.  She sighed.

They approached the gate that divided the guards' headquarters from the
prisoners' section. "You're assigned to Barracks 19," said the guard. "Ask
for the barracks leader.  She'll fill you in about what to do and what to
expect." The two male guards on the near side of the fence opened the gate.
Two female guards were standing next to it on the prisoners' side.  With a
final wave of thanks to the guard who had escorted her, Jill stepped
through the gate and into her new life.  The gate clanged shut behind her.

As twilight fell, Jill made her way slowly across the camp, taking in
everything around her.  Prisoners clustered in small groups, playing cards,
kicking around a soccer ball, or just talking. Some prisoners were standing
alone and simply staring off into space.  Here and there watchful female
guards with assault rifles passed by. The camp was ringed with guard towers
and two layers of high, barbed-wire fences. As it grew darker, searchlights
from the towers came on, sweeping around and around.  Lights also came on
inside the camp, illuminating both the prisoners' area and the guards'
buildings.

There were twenty prisoners' barracks in all, long, low, unappealing-looking
buildings.  She looked at the numbers above the doors as she went by.
Number one on the left, two on the right.  Then number three on the left 
and four on the right.  Number 19 must be the last one on the left.  She
approached the building labeled 19.  Two prisoners were playing catch with
a ratty-looking baseball in front of it. Inside, she could see several more
prisoners. A tall blonde woman was sitting on the steps in front of barracks
19, jotting things down in a notebook.

Jill went up to the blonde prisoner. "I'm Private First Class Jill Alvarez,
new arrival," she introduced herself. "They assigned me to this barracks.
Where can I find the barracks leader?"

"You've found her," said the woman with a smile, shaking Jill's hand. "I'm
Captain Megan Galvan, leader of barracks 19." Her grip was strong and her
deep blue eyes stood out on her darkly tanned face.  She looked as if she
was in her early thirties. "The guard said to ask you what to expect, 
Captain," said Jill.

"Please, call me Megan," said the barracks leader. "No need for formalities
here." She smiled and brushed back a stray strand of blonde hair. "I guess
I should start with the daily routine," she said. "They wake us at 5:30
every day.  Yes, I know, I know.  We go to morning roll call, then go to
breakfast.  After that, we head out to work - various projects for the 
enemy's war effort, mostly.  We get twenty minutes' break at lunch.  The
workday usually ends around five in the afternoon.  Then it's evening roll
call and dinner.  After that, we have some free time.  Lights out are at
nine.  On Sundays, we don't have to work, but they still wake us up at 5:30
anyway."

"Now, the barracks themselves. Each one can hold 24 prisoners, but the camp
isn't quite at full capacity.  I think you're the twentieth one in ours.
The barracks leaders are the go-betweens between the other prisoners and 
the guards.  If you have a problem, you're supposed to tell me and I'm
supposed to tell the guards.  Technically, that's the way the system is
supposed to work, but usually the guards at best only pretend to listen to
our problems.  They generally don't care.  It's important to remember, by
the way, that some punishments are done collectively, by barracks.  That's
why it's very important that we all stick together and look out for one
another."

"Now, about punishments.  This is always my least favorite part of the 
speech, because I always end up mad after finishing it," Megan continued.
"Prisoners who commit infractions are sometimes whipped or beaten by the
guards, at the assemblies where all the other prisoners are watching.  If
several people in the same barracks do something, often the whole barracks
is punished.  Other times, troublemakers are put in one of The Holes.  
They're tiny little square pits in the ground, open to the sun and rain.
You get fed bread and water once a day and there's a bucket in there with
you to do your business in.  The fucking stench is unbearable.  I was put
in a Hole once.  I was there for three days, and thank God it wasn't any
longer.  Sometimes I feel like I can still smell the awful...oh, but I'm 
rambling here." Her voice dropped and her pretty face took on a hardened,
serious look. "I should tell you, too, that there are executions for the
most serious infractions. The executions are public just like all the other
things, to make examples."

"If you're going to hide contraband, make sure to hide it VERY well, since
the guards search the barracks every day while we're out working.  And do
your best to resist the temptation to talk back to the guards.  I know most
of them are bitches, but talking back is what got me put in that stinking
hole.  Our girls are scattered all over the camp right now, but when we're
all in after lights out, you can meet them all." Megan paused. "Anything
else important...oh, one more thing.  There's one guard in particular that
you should be aware of.  Her name is Captain Dorgan.  She's actually only
the third-highest ranking guard, but she's the highest-ranking woman and
has most of the power in this place.  She's a nasty, sadistic bitch and
enjoys performing executions personally.  When I think of the things she's
done, I get so mad that I want to..." Megan caught herself again and 
managed a laugh. "Anyway, I'll point her out tomorrow at roll call.  Steer
clear of her."

"Now that we've got the businesslike stuff out of the way, tell me about
you," said the blonde.  Jill told her about why she first joined the army,
a few of her battle experiences, and the final battle that had led to her
capture.  When Megan heard about Lisa's death, she gave Jill a tight hug.
"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm trying my best to be, Cap- I mean Megan," she said. "But tell me about
you now."

It turned out that Megan had been an F-16 pilot.  Her plane had been shot
down over Las Vegas. As they talked, Jill found herself developing a strong
admiration for Megan.  She reminded Jill of her older sister.

"What does Vegas look like now?" asked Jill. "I just realized I'm old
enough to gamble this year.  I bet it's..." She was suddenly interrupted by
loud yells and grunts from the common area.  A fight had erupted between
two prisoners, a tanned, lean-looking blonde and an equally tanned and lean-
looking brunette.  The two women moved from punching and kicking each other
to tussling and wrestling on the ground. A crowd gathered around them, with
some of the members yelling and cheering the fighters on.  Surprisingly, 
some of the guards were included in the crowd.  Jill looked at Megan
inquiringly.

The barracks leader laughed. "Fights are pretty common here," she said.
"Usually, the guards don't intervene unless it looks like it's going to 
turn into a full-scale rumble." In the fight circle, the blonde was now
sitting on the brunette's chest and repeatedly punching her in the face.
Then, a pair of hands grabbed the blonde from behind and yanked her away.
Another pair of hands helped the brunette to her feet.  Megan grinned.
"Barracks leaders broke up that one," she said. "Of course, a good leader
like me doesn't have to embarrass herself like that." Jill smiled when she
heard this. "She's still got that fighter-pilot confidence in her," she
thought to herself.

Just then, the sound of a loud horn echoed through the camp. "Five minutes
to lights out!" came a bullhorn voice. "Anyone not in her barracks in five
minutes has a date with the Hole!  Hurry your asses up!"

The camp came alive with the forms of hurrying figures.  Jill and Megan
scurried into the barracks.  There were twelve bunk beds in the building,
six lined against each side wall.  The bathroom was at the back, covered
by a curtain.  Megan pointed to one of the upper bunks. "You can take that
one over there," she said.

Soon, the rest of the group had hurried into the barracks. Then five guards
with assault rifles and flashlights piled into the room, doing a quick head
count. "...17, 18, 19, that's everyone, wait, there's 20, where'd the extra
one come from...oh, right, you got a new prisoner today.  All right.  All
clear." 

The door was shut and the prisoners were locked in.  When the footsteps of
the guards had faded, Megan introduced Jill to the others.  One prisoner
handed Megan a flashlight (contraband, according to the rules) and they all
passed it around as they introduced themselves so their faces were
illuminated as each one spoke.  Most of them seemed friendly to Jill, with
the exception of a big, scowling, red-haired woman.  

Although technically the prisoners were not supposed to talk at all after
lights out, whispered and low-voiced conversations could not be heard by
the guards patrolling outside.  Several of these went on in the barracks.
The young woman in the bunk right beneath Jill's was named Rebecca.  She
and Jill got to talking and became fast friends.  Rebecca had been with an
artillery unit that had been overrun by the enemy several weeks ago near
the California-Nevada border. She was a slender brunette of average height.

Jill asked Rebecca about the angry redhead prisoner. Rebecca (after making
sure that the subject in question wasn't listening) whispered that Needs-
Anger-Management-Prisoner's real name was Nora and yes, Nora had a serious
attitude problem with everyone. "She also likes picking fights with the
newcomers, so watch out," Rebecca added.  The two young women stayed up 
whispering for over an hour.  When they finally decided they were both 
tired enough to go to bed, most of the others in the barracks were already 
asleep, although a few were still whispering.  Jill rested her head on her 
hard, uncomfortable excuse for a pillow and wondered what the next day had 
in store.

It seemed like only minutes later that she was awakened by the sound of
bugles bellowing. "Get up, my pretties!" cackled a nasty-sounding female
voice over a bullhorn.  Jill groaned, sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked
at her wrist, which was bare.  Then she remembered that the guards had
confiscated her watch.  The cackling voice came over the bullhorn again.  
From the bunk beneath Jill, Rebecca said with a grim smile, "If I ever 
find out who does that bullhorn voice, I'm going to snap her fucking neck."

All the prisoners, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, were quickly getting
ready. "We all have to be ready at roll call at six," Megan had said. Jill
got ready quickly. As she was heading for the barracks door, she discovered
that her way was blocked by the large, scowling form of Nora.

Jill sighed.  She preferred to have her fights later in the day, when she
wasn't so tired. "What do YOU want?" she asked.

"I just like to get an idea of the skills of the new prisoners," the big
redhead responded.

"You didn't do that to me," came the voice of one of the other prisoners.
Another voice said, "She just likes fighting the petite girls."

Megan, the barracks leader, had stood up and was about to open her mouth to
say something, but Jill signalled her not to.  If she was going to keep the
respect of her fellow prisoners, she had to show that she could take care 
of herself and fight like a man (or like a woman).

"Okay, loudmouth," said Jill in her most confident voice. "Show everyone 
how big and courageous you are by picking a fight with someone smaller than
you." Nora growled and advanced on her.  The other prisoners looked on with
interest.  Jill's opponent was about four inches taller than her and 
probably about 30 or 40 pounds heavier, but Nora had an arrogant smirk of
overconfidence on her face.  Also, her body wasn't nearly as muscular and
toned as Jill's.

Jill waited for her opponent to make the first move, not wanting to be seen
as the aggressor in this fight.  Nora willingly obliged and reached out,
intending to grab the little brunette and throw her to the floor.  But Jill
was too fast for her.  She grabbed and twisted one of Nora's arms, while at
the same time kneeing her hard in her flabby stomach.  Letting go of her
opponent's arm, Jill then fired two quick punches into Nora's face.  Nora
growled in pain and cursed. "I'll fuck you up good for that, bitch," she
snarled.

"Bring it on, tubby," taunted Jill, beginning to feel the natural excitement
that tended to accompany her fights.  She dodged one swing by her opponent,
but Nora's next punch stung her on the cheek, knocking her backward
slightly. She recovered quickly, however, and slammed her left fist directly
into Nora's eye.  Jill then performed a cheerleader-style high kick to the
redhead's face, followed by a powerful roundhouse kick to the side of her
head.  The impact of the second kick knocked Nora to the floor.

"You go, girl!" cheered Rebecca from the sidelines. Jill smiled and winked,
then turned her attention back to Nora, who was getting up slowly and
growling and cursing the whole time.  The big redhead charged Jill with a
loud yell, but the little brunette knocked her opponent back with a kick to
the chest.  Nora advanced again and delivered a low kick that struck Jill's
leg.  Jill stumbled a little, but quickly dodged when her opponent tried to
kick her again.  She then balanced on one leg and fired three quick kicks
with the other, one to Nora's stomach, one to her neck, and one to her head.
While Nora stood there looking dizzy from the impacts, Jill performed a 
pretty but very strong cartwheel kick on the redhead, which sent her to the
floor again.

Nora tried to get up, but Jill kicked her in the head, knocking her back
down. "Do you give up now?" she asked.

"No way, little bitch," snarled the bigger woman.  Jill shrugged, then
suddenly yanked Nora upward by grabbing her by the hair.  The little
brunette then wrapped her muscular thighs around the redhead's neck.  She
began squeezing, gradually increasing the power.  Nora thrashed and
struggled, then gasped and choked.  Her face began turning shades of blue.
"How about now?" asked Jill with a sexy smile.

"All right, all right, I give up!" Nora managed to gasp out.  Jill released
Nora from the clutches of her dangerous thighs.  The big redhead dropped to
the floor, trying to regain her breath.  Most of the other prisoners in the
barracks, led by Rebecca, began applauding.  Jill blushed.

"Way to go, Jill," said Rebecca, coming up and planting a kiss on her cheek.
"When I was new here, Nora picked a fight with me too.  I beat her in the
end, but I had a lot more trouble than you did.  I had bruises on my face
for weeks, but making that big bitch submit to me made it all worthwhile.
Thanks for kicking her ass again." Jill smiled and gave her new friend a
hug.

Megan came up to her. "Nice work, Jill," said the barracks leader, squeezing
her hand tightly. "Still got the fighter in you."

Jill squeezed Megan's hand in response. "Thanks," she said. "And thanks for
letting me handle the bitch on my own."

The sound of loud footsteps from outside reminded them all that they had to
be out for morning roll call soon.  Although she had a long and weary time
as a prisoner of war ahead of her, Jill felt strangely content. "Kicking
some ass really brightened up my morning," she thought.

To be continued... (insert dramatic cheesy music here)

silverstar222b@yahoo.com