“Well, that looked better,” he said. “Now go see what you got and then we’ll try again. She got the target replaced it and then Derek demanded that she do better.

“Again,” he said. Each time she emptied the gun and returned with the target, he said, “Again.” By the time Derek was satisfied, she felt like her arm was going to come off. She was finally glad when they went to the farmhouse for bed.

The farmhouse wasn’t like Derek’s house. The place was rather run down and the pair of them had to sleep on the floor in sleeping bags. Bridget lay down her duffle bag and dug in it for a clean diaper.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“I’ve been diapering myself for almost a year,” she said angrily. Derek looked hurt, and she realized what he had been asking. “I will accept help if you want to give it to me.” She lay down fully dressed on the sleeping bag and held the diaper in her hands.

“Sure,” said Derek. “He knelt down and helped her undress. When she was naked, she tossed the diaper aside and pulled him on top of her. They kissed for quite awhile and then she felt his hand move from her breast to the area between her legs. It wasn’t long before she heard him fumble around for a condom.

“She lay in his arms clad in only a diaper, but the diaper and his arms were all she really needed. “You’re a good man Derek.”

“And you’re a good woman,” he said, “and I wouldn’t change one thing about you.”

“Well after tonight the diapers are going away,” she said. “I’ve been really looking forward to waking up in a dry bed and free of diapers.”

“Yeah, I must admit that I could do without the diapers.” He smiled and turned and tickled her. “As cute as they make you look, diapers really aren’t my idea of sexy lingerie.”

“I’ll be diaper free as soon as I kill that damned terrorist,” she said. She barely kept the snarl out of her voice. Instead, she got inside Derek’s sleeping bag with him and fell asleep in his arms.

“Wake up,” said Derek as he squeezed her around the middle.

Bridget woke up tired. Derek was spooning her and she felt so comfortable. She hadn’t even dreamed. She felt like she had only put her head down. “What time is it?” she groaned.

“It’s twenty after two,” said Derek. “We need to get up.” We reached around her for the zipper of the sleeping bag and pulled it open.

Bridget sat up and stretched. She checked her diaper, which was still dry, and smiled. She didn’t even have to pee. She left the diaper on because she would be using it when the terrorist arrived and threw on her blue jeans.

“Hurry up,” said Derek. He had already pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and pulled on a down jacket.

“I am,” said Bridget. She picked up the revolver, and opened the cylinder. It was loaded with five .357 Magnum rounds. The other four rounds were different colors, but she shrugged. Perhaps she had used too many bullets practicing and Derek had opened another box. She closed the cylinder and put the gun in her pocket.

Derek led the way to his pickup and opened the door and pulled out two black squares. He handed one to Bridget and closed the door. “Put this on the other door,” he said.

Bridget looked at the square and turned it around. It was a magnetic sign that said, Cuddly Creatures Fur Farm. Bridget’s logo with the cartoon mink and rabbit was nicely done and printed in color. She slapped it on the door of the truck and stepped back to admire it. “Now it looks like a company truck,” she said.

“That’s the idea,” he said. “We should probably go to the shed and wait.”

The shed was dark and dusty, but Bridget didn’t care. She turned on the light and examined the room. On each side of the long shed were shelves filled with rusty old cages. At the back was a table with a device to shock mink before skinning them. It looked as rusty and worn out as the cages. At the other end was the door. They headed toward the back.

“Here is the plan,” said Derek. “When he gets here, I will turn on the light and you shoot him. Fire one shot at a time until you hit him. Don’t shoot him twice or the cops might not think it is self-defense.”

“Sure,” said Bridget. She didn’t tell Derek, but she didn’t care what any cops thought. She would shoot the terrorist until he was as dead as those school children he ran her tanker into.

He turned the light out and they crouched down together.

“What about the mink sounds we recorded?” she asked. “Won’t he suspect something if he doesn’t hear mink sounds.”