Adventure Across The World Ch 02

Adventures Across the World: Chapter 2

The continuation of Drew's story in the middle of strife and confusion. The following Chapter 2 is set a year or two in the future. It is time to rebuild...with the worlds help. This story is not intended to be in a hurry. There is no political swing in the story. I am building a deeper story and it will be a slow burn. If you are looking for quick sex, please look elsewhere. All the following, people, places, and things are a figment of my twisted mind.

*

'I am getting so old!' he admonished himself. He had always been a light sleeper and had always rose with the sun, he continued to rail on himself as he set Alexander in place and brought up SpongeBob. With the child enraptured with the cartoons, Drew went to shower.

Just after he had stepped in, another naked body joined him and wrapped him in her arms. He saw a brief glimpse of her robe fluttering to the ground. He did not get a word in before her tongue was in his mouth. Her hands pulled on his hair and his erection was trapped between her legs. She was making the sexiest grunting noises.

She broke off the enthusiastic kissing for a moment and looked into his eyes.

"Thank you for being there for my son in front of the others!" she whispered in his ear as she wrapped her hand around his cock. She grabbed his hands and pulled them to the back of her head as she slid to her knees. His fingers slid through her tresses.

"Cum quick, I need to get ready too."

She sucked the end of his cock into her mouth and started to rock her head. She grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled him deeper with each thrust. She took one hand, grabbed his, and placed it in her hair. She then started to make him thrust her head forward. He finally realized she wanted him to fuck her mouth. His finger laced into her wet hair and pulled. She moaned...but not in pain.

Drew did not last long. And she swallowed with a sexy, soft whimper and without protest. She took precious moments to clean his cock with her mouth.

She then leaned back, looked him in the eyes and winked.

Antonia was up in a flash and down the back staircase to get ready. Drew had the most beautiful shot of her wet ass as she quickly tried to sling her robe over her wet body as she rushed out of his bathroom and made the right turn towards the rear staircase.

*

Drew quickly finished his shower, and then dressed in his kaki utilities and 'jump' boots. A simple polo adorned his top and he was ready to roll. Alexander was no longer staring at the TV, so Drew assumed the ladies had gathered him up. He rolled down the circular stair with a hop in his step and found the 'crew' gathered waiting for him.

Another surprise had come that day, the 'babysitters' arrived. They were not what Drew expected, but like he kept telling himself... 'Make it work!'

Yulia was standing with two thin young African women. He noted their shape as any male would. Both were small, and petite with a dark caramel colored skin. They were thin but with noticeable curves where young women should have them. Sisters to be sure, but he was not sure which was older, not that it made any difference.

Both wore a light head scarf, not a hijab. One wore her hair in braids, while the other one was shorn close. He could tell this because the covering looked hastily put back on and was not done to the formality of a public setting

As he soon found out, the one with braids was the shy one, with a headscarf of a muted plum color. She would not meet his eyes. But she did have a beautiful muted shy smile.

Her sister on the other hand, was a bit more brash and smiled with a million watt smile full of white teeth. Her scarf was made of a beautiful multi-colorful fabric, heavy on yellows, reds and green. While the first sister looked down at Drews feet, the second looked like a cheetah looking at new prey.

Both had strangely hued hazel eyes.

They were holding hands with Alexander. He was sandwiched between them, showing that they had met before and there was a comfort in their presence. They were standing shoulder to shoulder shuffling feet, Alex intertwined in their legs. They had the most expressive almond shaped eyes, with smiles that promised something much brighter.

'They are both smiling at least,' thought Drew. He was a bit confused. He had seen very few people of color since he arrived. Normal in the US, of course, but here in Ukraine, or Poland before, not so much.

He had dated African American women in his past, but he could tell these were African women.

"May I introduce Adimu and Firyali," presented Yulia. "The sisters were here on study visas for their senior year at university when the War began. They were studying European ways of teaching children and were caught up and...abandoned." Yulia paused for a moment.

"They could not escape across the border to Poland. Not that the Polish authorities would have allowed them across if they had survived the journey." Yulia huffed a bit.

Drew had heard the stories of the xenophobia at the border crossings. But at least he now had names Adimu 'the shy' and Firyali 'the huntress.'

"They have been left on their own by the University, by the Ministries...by the Government of Tanzania too. They have been struggling for a year just to survive." Yulia continued.

"We..."and Yulia did a sweep of her hand at the rest of the crew, "thought you would be open minded enough to allow them into our circle so they can take care of Alexander. They were our friends at university."

Yulia stopped talking. She and the rest of his Crew stared at Drew...breathlessly waiting.

Drew just smiled. Dad's words came to mind 'in for a penny...'

"Of course, they are more than welcome!" Drew stated with more enthusiasm than necessary. He was starting to wonder what number of women he was going to put in his apartment.

And the Crew let out a collective breath and began a round of hugs.

"SponBob?" came a plaintiff question from the smallest member of Drews growing community.

The Crew started to laugh, and the newly adopted "babysitters" just looked at Alexander and then at Drew with a questioning look.

"I have taught him bad American habits," he responded as he slid the Eames chair over to the huge display monitor in the office area. Alexander was already seated before the chair came to rest. Soon the young one was lost to watching the antics of SpongeBob and Patrick dance across the screen. Drew had added headphones to the mix, so the sounds of Sponge Bob, Patrick and Squidward would be kept to the youngster.

With the 'babysitters' in charge of the munchkin, Drew felt ready to move forward to the new portion of their adventure, exploration of the damaged Museum.

*

Drew led his "crew" down the couple of blocks to the museum. The walk with the ladies was as entertaining than he could have hoped. In his 'free time,' Drew had explored the neighborhood and its stores. Drew had learned in Central America that if you treated people with respect, 99% of the time it was returned with a smile. Not that he received smiles here, it was a cultural phenomenon that Drew was having trouble dealing with. He treated the locals with respect and received the same in kind...it was just the 'kind' that threw him off.

He had been surprised by the amount of people, either working or within earshot who spoke English. He would start with a salesperson and before you know it, he would be conversing in a group. That usually lead to coffee and deeper discussions.

It was an amazing way to get his 'foot' out in the neighborhood. He had not realized how neighbors had seen or heard about his antics rescuing Yulia from the scavenger that first day. Rumors had grown of course. It was the same in all human cultures. His act of bravado, it seems, had turned into an expanded tale of bravery, 'protecting her honor against a horde of ruffians.'

Drew and the Crew stopped for refueling. He was never much of a coffee drinker, and it fascinated him how much of the stuff his Crew could put away in a day. The varieties and names of each cup were astounding. They were so much sexier pronounced in the multiple languages spoken by the Crew than in his basic English.

He gathered specialty coffees for the Crew that had their quirks and returned to the ladies in his life. He had forgotten the effect his 'crew' had on the local populace. Here he was, with bevy of beautiful female flesh, two flirting with a delivery guy, others being fawned over by older women, like they were gossiping with their own daughters.

It was nice and odd to see smiles on the street. Drew just enjoyed the similarities of all humans, no matter location or culture. Drew had yet to get used to the no-smiling affectation of the Russian and Ukrainian culture. It had been explained to him that a smiling person was thought of as either an idiot or someone trying to manipulate the receiver of the smile. Not exactly what Drew thought, but again, when in foreign culture... but when it happened, it meant 'more' in an odd way.

Drew's joy at seeing the woman thrive in their new 'authority" of being part of the Crew was heartwarming. He was quickly growing his own feelings for his own flock of beauties. His expanding "crew" gave him a certain sense. They were slowly becoming 'family' to him. He had grown up in an odd, blended family kept together by the shear strength of his dad's and stepmom's will and love. He could feel he was doing the same here. Outcasts and the flotsam banding together to do something 'more.'

War and strife brought a togetherness.

"Make it work' continued to float through his mind.

'Make it work' took on other meanings when it came to the other local habits of the neighborhood. Cigarettes...that had been hard since his arrival. He grew up in a household full of smokers. Back in the 1950's and sixty's it was still considered stylish. Ashtrays from the latest visit to Yosemite or Disneyland were proudly placed on the homestead coffee table as decoration.

Then came the seventies, eighties and finally nineties where his hometown passed (and stuck with it) the first 'no smoking in public' ordinance in the USA.

So, he grew in his adulthood without being covered in smoke at a bar or dance club, not that he did that often. And that became a norm to him, even after spending time building in Central America. There, everyone smoked on their patios.

Not here in Ukraine, or Poland where he spent weeks in pre-deployment orientation. Smoking was part of the culture. He supposed that when you are in constant worry that an errant missile or artillery round can end your life, the worry for potential cancer down the road takes a backseat.

His only demand was smoking needed to happen on the small, cantilevered deck off 'his' bedroom or the rear fire escape off the back staircase. The only members of his crew that smoked was Tatyana, Darya, and Antonia when she drank too much. More than not, he found them stealing his card access key and smoking in the unused apartments around him in the complex.

He looked at his happy crew, smiled at them, not giving a rat's ass about the perception of the public, and turned to leave.

They were ready and were off...finally...to get on with what he had travelled half across the world for.

*

The Ministry had finally erected security fencing around the large site, with roving guards to protect the accessible historical artifacts.

Drew worried what had been looted before he could convince them that they were facing a national loss. Being a lover of all things historical, it broke his heart to think of the losses to the nation over a simple quick buck.

He knew that those that looted here were not the single parent looking to feed her babies, but older more experienced men. Men, like he had dealt with on his first day here with Yulia. Jackals out to make whatever monies could be made in the middle of a war.

Drew also knew that those types of men were not only in Ukraine but existed in all the world countries, including the USA. Jackals all the same, looking for the weak, an opportunity to take advantage. Jackals looking for carrion to savage. They were universal, not tied to this one place and time.

That is why he was so open with his expanding "crew." He knew he had a 'need' to protect the innocent and less advantaged. His volunteer work in America had focused on the homeless and disadvantaged. That 'protective' mentality followed him here.

*

They began their tour as they had for the past weeks, walking the perimeter to view the original damage. The west and north walls of the west wing were intact.

As they came around the side, they saw the guard station and Drew pulled out his paperwork. After arguing and a great deal of loud Ukrainian and arm waiving, they were allowed to enter with the final warning regarding unexploded ordinance. The ordinance mitigation had caused the delay...because of disposal.

Drew was not sure why the guards were still putting out the warning.

The debris in the courtyards had been mostly cleared. Anything resembling ornate marble had been relocated to the secured adjacent warehouses. Any antiquities and art that were visible and safe to retrieve had also been stored safely at the warehouses. This had all been categorized and verified, with detailed notes and pictures taken for later restorations.

Yulia and Antonia had taken lead on these aspects. Antonia was enthralled with her ability to touch and save the history. She wanted to immediately dive into the wreckage and save it all. Drew put the quash on that immediately until the rest of the crew could survey the structural damage.

Drew had his own fascinations. He had salvaged a telescope from deep in a closet of one of the other empty suites. He had used it, admittedly, to look at the adjacent buildings and watch the nighttime antics of the neighborhood. Yes, it seemed that one of the husbands from the across-the-street apartments, was sneaking down the iron fire escape to have an affair with the wife in the apartment below. Drew would keep an eye on this for when the Jerry-Springer moment would occur, and he would watch the fallout.

Drew's main attraction was the museum itself. If he set the telescope up in just the perfect spot on the balcony and if he twisted just so, he had a full-on view of the museum. He became fascinated by two round holes in the dome. If they were not a meter in diameter each, he would call them bullet holes.

He knew that the damage would have to be studied from the inside out. He and the 'twins' would begin their documentation today.

*

Drew's philosophy was simple, 'Start with the worst and work towards the simple.' So, the East wing it was. They toured and looked at where to start. Having structural training, Drew and the twins were looking at one thing while Yulia and Antonia looked at the art. They spoke rapidly about getting in to pull pieces from the wreckage

Drew decided to go through the main rotunda and see how stable the second-floor breezeway was. The drones he had 'borrowed,' meaning he had paid off local teenagers to fly their birds for a US dollars, showed the wreckage and antiquities all co-mingled. At least in the east wing where the most damage was an apparent jumble.

The wide breezeway followed the base of the huge dome above and provided a view of both East and West wings. Surprisingly, the roof structures had stayed in place. After the drone flights, he was not sure what was holding up the roof of the East wing though.

They entered the front doors like they owned the place. The main core under the dome was surprisingly well lit from daylighting of the midspan windows below the dome structure. Debris was scattered everywhere. He was still cautions of unexploded ordinance. He had been lightly trained but spent a lot of time looking at online photos and videos of what the enemy munitions looked like.

They walked the rotunda picking through the scattered chunks of marble, scattered wood, and basic clutter. Drew knew immediately that they needed to slowly blaze pathways with brooms so future forays did not discover that the 'trash' they were trampling, turned out to be part of a restoration project.

He was still cautious and had warned the others to be cautious of all things strewn about. The military ordinance team allegedly removed anything that would go 'boom', or so he had been promised. That was the reasoning for the delay in access to the museum over the past months.

He was the first to reach the first set of curved stairs that led to the mezzanine breezeway. He cautiously scanned around both sets of the stair stringers. As he went up the stairs, he looked for trip wires or other triggering devices.

"Yes" he admitted to himself, he was being a bit paranoid. But in his own defense, he thought, 'when people are actively trying to kill you, you are allowed a bit of situational awareness'.

He crept to the main mezzanine level and headed left to the west wing. Creeping along, taking his time, and looking for anything out of the ordinary, he felt silly at times, but he did not know any other way. He had broken his own rule and went to the West side first, the side with limited or no damage.

He looked down and saw the museum, dark but in its original pre-war condition. Lots of dust over everything, but all was in place. He continued around the elevated circular platform and was soon looking out the windows at the front portico, large plaza, and stair complex at the front of the museum.

He could see the 'blood splatter' pattern of the East wing front facade. The front facade now lay in disarray after what could only have been a horrific explosion. Large chunks of the marble and carved structure lay crumpled or thrown a decent distance.

Drew twisted his head and body around and started to look at the two "holes" he had noticed in the dome. The back part of the holes was as he thought they would be, blown out to three times the size of the entry "wound." He assumed that whatever munitions punched those 'wounds' caused the massive blow out of the front elevation of the East wing. The destruction had left the face of the museum decidedly lopsided.

He was now thinking of the building as his patient and what he would need to do to revive this beautiful structure.

He heard voices and looked across the dome covered rotunda and saw his crew had reach his same level. They were doing what they promised they would not do, but he understood their excitement. Just like children caught being naughty, they froze and stared at Drew with wide eyes.

Drew just huffed and pointed to the left and made sure they all did as they were 'told'. He knew he would have long talks with them later that night regarding safety. But he took to straighten himself back up and remind himself how excited he was too, to be able to finally get going with what they had been tasked with.

He watched them all file to the left to the West wing following the path he had just cleared. As they gathered on the view platform, he could hear the squeals of joy and the excited female voices rattle off in Ukrainian. He knew he would want to scour the West wing for 'bad stuff' before his surrogate daughters and lover could wander, but he was happy to hear the joy in their voices.

He continued to creep along the elevated pathway to the East wing. He could see the damage to the east wing viewing platform from his position. At the edge of the East wing pathway, it looked like a great hand swept the ornate gilded guardrail off the platform. It lay twisted and crumpled in a corner adjacent to the blown out front elevation.

He continued along and slowly crept out onto the now unfettered viewing section overlooking the East wing. It seemed very stable considering the carnage that had been done to the building façade just adjacent to where he was now standing.