"It was my neighbours teenage daughter dressed for riding and carrying amenacing looking riding crop."Mummy did tell me to wait and not to go riding ...ill she got home, now Ican see why." She was swinging the crop and slapping it into her leathergloved hand, a twinkle in her eye. I mmmphed in to my gag but she justgiggled and swatted her crop stingingly against my thigh. Because of thetight jodhpurs, and the taught muscles caused by the tugging leatherstraps, it hurt more than it should.. Not a warm misty rain. No, it was the hard, bone chilling rain. I put on my rain suit and went out into the nasty weather. Fortunately, the water appeared to be draining nicely away from my tent. It was a good quality tent. It had high sidewalls, so I wasn’t too worried about water getting inside.I remembered those camping days from my youth. Hard rains would tend to creep inside the tent. Somewhere in the night, your air mattress would have deflated, and you would begin to feel wet spots in. Not helping matters was that her khaki shorts were so brief that they didn't quite cover the bottoms of her buttcheeks. And her safety harness cinched that up even higher. I swore I could actually see the black strap of her thong if I looked carefully enough.The rest of my girls were dressed the same way. For obvious reasons, no one was in a dress or skirt. Shorts and comfortable cotton tops were the uniform of the day, the skimpier the better. Vivienne wore the tiniest tee shirt that hugged. Of course, they could still hear the screams even with the ear plugs but it as a whole sight better than the butchery of the first ninety days.The percentages of salvageable females and children for re-population efforts was dropping drastically in recent days and it was becoming almost a waste of time to even screen the survivors for programmable units to turn into citizens for the new republic.The cleansing units like the one under the command of Major Mike Major and his Executive Officer.