He started to push harder against her, until eventually he groaned loudly, and then his whole body shuddered as he shot his ejaculation into her mouth.
‘Now swallow,’ he ordered.
She had stopped her head movements, once she had felt his hot, salty liquid inside her mouth. Her eyes looked up at his for a brief moment, and then she gulped, once, twice, and then it was done.
He stood where he was for a minute or so longer, just rocking slowly, with her mouth still around him. It felt incredibly sensitive. She was moving her lips gently, trying to keep him stiff for as long as possible. But the moment had passed, and finally he withdrew his limp penis from her mouth.
They both dressed in silence.
Eventually he spoke. ‘Thanks for the coffee. I guess it has gone cold now though, never mind.’
She smiled back at him. ‘Thank you also. I hope you’re passing this way again soon. Call by if you do. I have some more things to confess. It’s important to pay for your sins, you know.’
‘Indeed it is,’ he replied.
He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.
‘Take care.’
‘I will,’ Melissa replied.
Then she left, pulling the door shut behind her.
He felt good about himself, and about the world. It was important to him that people admit to their sins, and that they are punished appropriately. It was the only way to learn how to behave properly.
The woman had been a good subject. She had done as he had ordered, and had paid for her sins. She was a good person, and she had shown him the respect that he deserved.
Chapter Sixteen
Cole wiped the sweat away from his eyes with his left hand. In his right hand he was trying to keep a steady aim. The gun wasn’t heavy, but he didn’t want to miss. The attacker was only about ten yards away from him now.
He lifted the Sig Sauer a fraction higher, so that the sight was now directly pointing at the man’s chest. The pistol was lightweight and compact. It was the 320c variant of the popular handgun, and it fired 9mm bullets. The ‘c’ stood for ‘carry’, as this particular weapon weighed only twenty six ounces.
Cole focused on his breathing, and tried to stay calm. His forehead was sweating again. It was hot, and muggy, even though it was still early morning. The sun was barely up over the horizon, and it cast long shadows behind everything it touched.
The man was moving closer. Cole was running out of time. It was now or never. He fired three times from the Sig, all in rapid succession. All three bullets hit the target, mid chest, just right of centre. At that range, the shots would have completely obliterated the heart. Blood loss would be massive, and death almost instantaneous.
Cole stood up straight and surveyed the damage.
‘It’s a nice piece. How much are you asking?’
‘The gun is six hundred dollars, and I’ll throw in a box of ammo.’ The owner of the gun store was a short man, with a large, round belly. His long hair flowed out from under a wide brimmed hat, and his bushy beard was as white as snow.
Cole shrugged. It seemed like a reasonable price to him, but his instinct was to try and negotiate anyway.
‘Call it five hundred, and we have a deal.’
‘Five fifty. That’s as good as it gets.’ This was said with an air of finality.
‘Fine,’ said Cole. ‘Maddie, come and pay for my new toy.’
The owner looked puzzled. His eyes looked in the direction of where Cole was looking.
‘She has an American passport,’ Cole explained. ‘And she lives in Houston,’ he lied.
‘Well I used to live ...’
‘Still live in Houston, don’t you?’ Cole cut her off.
She looked surprised, but slowly nodded.
‘We just need to make sure we satisfy all your local laws for purchasing a weapon,’ Cole said to the owner.
‘No problem,’ he said. He placed the gun in a small box, and handed it over to Cole. ‘Cash would be good, if you don’t mind.’
Cole nodded. He counted out the notes, while Maddie signed the paperwork.
‘Do you want to keep the target you were practising on? I can fold it up for you. That was some fine shooting there,’ the owner said.
Cole looked back down the shooting range. ‘No thanks. You can keep it.’
Out in the car park, Hedge continued the argument that they had started over breakfast that morning.
‘Are you sure we needed to buy a gun? It might be safer if we were unarmed.’
‘We’ve been over this,’ Cole said. ‘If we are being followed, as you suggest. And Maddie witnessed a murder, as she believes. Then we could all be in serious danger. I don’t want to take any chances.’
Hedge always felt uncomfortable around guns, but maybe Cole was right.
‘Ok, but can we get going now. We are still only in El Paso and we have a long way to go.’
He opened the door of the orange Mustang and settled himself into the driver’s seat. Maddie got in beside him. He fired up the engine and pulled out onto the highway. Cole followed a short distance behind in the dark grey car.
As they settled onto Interstate 10 once more, they started to relax. Hedge kept checking in the rear view mirror, but apart from his friend’s Mustang, the road was completely clear.
A few more miles along the highway, they passed an old looking garage on the right, and next to it was a small motel. The place looked deserted. The car park was empty, apart from a very clean, silver coloured Chevrolet Impala.
It pulled out onto the road, shortly after they had passed by.
Chapter Seventeen
Hedge leaned back in the seat as he surveyed the road ahead. He felt nervous, and slightly unsettled. It looked like nobody had followed them out of El Paso, so maybe there was nothing to worry about.
If only Maddie hadn’t witnessed what the police officer had done, he thought.
But hopefully that could all be forgotten about now.
He looked down at the controls in front of him. All was in order, the car was running smoothly. The engine temperature was recording normal, so the needle was in the middle of the dial. Fuel was alright as again the needle was around the centre. Hedge adjusted his speed so that this needle also pointed centrally.
It was an anxiety thing, but all this conformity felt quite comforting to him.
He looked across at his sister. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, with her feet resting on the front of her seat. She seemed relaxed, and was staring out of the window at the endless, desert landscape.
He envied her being able to relax so easily. He sometimes felt that he was in a constant struggle with anxiety. It was difficult to explain, just a feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He often blamed his school days for these feelings. But maybe he was just born with them.
He tried to focus on the driving. The Mustang was comfortable to drive, and responsive. He pushed his foot down on the accelerator, and the speedometer immediately jumped up. Hedge didn’t like the change. He was now driving over the speed limit, and that wasn’t good. Also the needle had moved slightly off centre. That felt uncomfortable.
He slowed down.
Why did he often feel so uncomfortable? Where did that come from?
Anxiety was a common ailment in society, he knew that. After reading several books on the subject, he was something of a minor expert on the subject. In the past, he’d seen various therapists, and tried a few techniques to help him manage the problem, but still he resented the unwanted emotions.
Could it really have developed from his time at boarding school? It had all seemed such good fun back then. He had made many friends, and been involved with various sports. And being picked for the college chess team had been quite an honour at the time.
But then, what about all the bullying? Yes, it had been quite bad. In fact, it seemed quite horrific by today’s standards. But could that really have been responsible for some of his nervous mannerisms whe
n it was such a long time ago?
As he drove along, his mind started to drift back in time. Back to when he was a young teenager at school.
It was a bright, sunny day. The air was still, and the temperature was just pleasant. It was early summer, and for the students at Upperdale College there were only a few weeks to go until the end of term.
Most of the boys were seated around the large cricket pitch, which dominated the sports field at this time of the year. It was the final of the inter-house competition, and the rivalry was fierce.
Hedge was in his second year at the college, and so was still regarded as a junior boy. He was sitting on the grass watching the match. Next to him sat his close friend Peter Knot. Peter was a friendly boy, who was always smiling. The two of them were deep in conversation, discussing who they thought would win the match.
‘At two hundred and twenty seven for eight, I think they’ll be difficult to catch. Don’t you think,’ said Peter.
‘Difficult, but not impossible,’ replied Hedge. ‘Don’t forget, they have that new guy Dave De Silva opening the batting. He’s supposed to be a big hitter.’
They broke off the conversation suddenly, as a small group of senior boys had approached. The four older lads stood behind them.
‘What are you two queers up to?’ said Baxter. He was the dominant boy in the group, and Hedge was aware of his reputation. He was a bully, pure and simple. He loved picking on younger students, boy or girl, he didn’t care which.
Knot turned and smiled at the older boy. ‘We’re flying a kite, of course.’ He said this jokingly, and laughed out loud.
Hedge cringed inwardly. He realised Peter was only trying to be humorous, but using sarcasm in such a way with these guys was not a good idea.
‘That’s very funny Spot.’ Baxter knelt down behind him. He used the nickname Peter had acquired recently. It was partly due to it rhyming with his actual name, but also because he had developed a bad outbreak of facial acne over the last few months.
The older boy suddenly grabbed a handful of Peter’s hair and tugged hard. ‘Have you had a haircut recently Spot. You need one badly.’
‘Hey, that hurts. Let go. Please.’
‘Let go please.’ Baxter said this in a high pitched voice, mimicking the tone of the second year boy.
‘Spot, you are a fucking girl. You think you’re funny, but you’re just a little shit. I’m going to sort your hair out for you.’
Baxter turned to his friends who stood close behind him. ‘Shout out if you see any staff.’
He turned his attention back to Knot. His hand delved into his trouser pocket and he pulled out a small object. It was a plastic, disposable lighter. Baxter turned the adjuster button to the maximum flame setting, and then flicked the ignite switch. A long jet of red and blue flame shot out. He quickly positioned the lighter so that the flame was aimed at the back of Knot’s head. The youngster’s hair, just above his neckline, immediately caught fire. A circle of hair, about four inches in diameter, was burnt away, leaving nothing but short, black stubble.
Knot screamed in pain, and jumped up from his seated position. He started to rub the back of his head with his hands. The skin above his neck had already turned bright red where it had burnt. Knot had then started to cry.
The senior boys laughed, and ran off. Hedge stood up and tried to calm his friend. Knot had tears running down his face by now.
‘Bloody hell that’s really sore,’ he was shouting.
Some other boys nearby had noticed Knot crying, and they were all looking across at him. A member of staff was also walking towards them. Hedge recognised him as Mr. Rutherford, the chemistry teacher. He was known for not tolerating any nonsense or messing about, so Hedge pulled Knot away, back towards the main school.
‘Let’s get you over to see the school nurse,’ said Hedge.
Knot allowed himself to be led away. He was in too much pain to do anything else.
Thirty minutes later, Hedge was making his way back to the sports field. He was keen to see the remainder of the cricket match. He had left his friend at the college medical centre. He had said goodbye to him just as the nurse was busy smearing a thick, white cream over the back of Knot’s head.
As he neared the sports field, a few older boys jumped out from behind the groundsman’s shed, and stopped him. It was the same group from earlier. Baxter walked up to him.
‘I hope Spot hasn’t said anything about what happened to him. If I find out he’s grassed us up, there will be serious trouble,’ Baxter said.
‘He hasn’t said anything,’ Hedge replied.
‘Good. That’s okay then. Where are you going?’
‘I’m heading back to watch the match.’
‘Wrong. You’re coming with us.’
Baxter nodded towards two of his mates. They immediately leapt forward and grabbed hold of Hedge’s arms. It was pointless resisting, there were too many of them. So he didn’t.
They marched him off behind the shed.
Hedge looked around to see if anyone was watching, anyone who may be able to come to his assistance.
There was no one.
He was in trouble.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Tie him up,’ ordered Baxter.
Two of the senior boys produced a short length of rope. They then pulled Hedge’s hands behind his back, and tied him to a metal loop which was firmly attached to the shed.
As they were securing the rope, Hedge tried to resist, but he soon stopped when Baxter stepped towards him and punched him hard in the stomach.
Hedge shouted in pain. Baxter told him to be quiet, and then he picked up a dirty, old handkerchief that was lying near the shed. He examined it briefly before nodding his head in satisfaction.
‘This will shut you up,’ he said, and started to tie the old piece of cloth around Hedge’s mouth.
Hedge was becoming frightened. His arms were now secured behind his back, and firmly attached to the shed. He could no longer shout out. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but it didn’t look good.
He knew bullying was rife at the school. He had experienced it many times in his first year. It did no good complaining to the teachers or to other school staff. They all just ignored what they heard. Worse than that, they would see you as a ‘grass’, which was regarded as the worst thing you could do.
Baxter turned to one of his companions. ‘Bring it over here.’
‘I’m not picking it up,’ the boy replied. ‘You do it.’
Baxter shook his head. ‘Russ. You get it. Or are you a pussy too.’
Russ was a tall lad, with short, ginger hair. He wasn’t normally part of Baxter’s gang, but he was enjoying himself today. He quite liked tormenting the junior boys. He wanted to impress the group leader, as he was hoping to be part of the gang in future.
‘No problem Baxter, I’ll get it.’
Russ ran off. He stopped about ten yards away from the group, leaned down, and picked up a clear plastic bag. He walked carefully back, gingerly holding the bag. He stopped just in front of Baxter, who had put on a large pair of rubber, gardening gloves.
The other boys took a few paces backwards, and they all stared at what Russ was holding.
Inside the plastic bag was a small, brown object. It was around six inches long and maybe four inches wide. The surface was rough and grainy. Near the bottom was a small hole. This was how the wasps entered and exited the nest. Several of the small insects could be seen coming out of the hole. They looked agitated, and the buzzing noise coming from the bag had started to grow louder.
Baxter took the bag in his gloved right hand, and moved close to Hedge.
‘Russ, would you oblige please,’ he said, and laughed excitedly.
The ginger haired lad moved eagerly forward. He grabbed hold of the top of Hedge’s trousers, and untied his black, leather belt. He then pulled the junior boy’s trousers open, leaving a gap of a few inches.
Hedge tried to wriggle away from
Russ, but the older boy hissed at him to keep still. He followed this up with a hard slap around the face. Hedge winced and grunted, but the noise was muffled by the handkerchief covering his mouth.
‘Get ready,’ Baxter shouted.
Russ pulled the trousers open a little further, and at the same time, Baxter turned the plastic bag upside down, and emptied the contents of it inside the front of Hedge’s trousers. Russ let go of the top of the trousers and the material closed in around Hedge’s waist once more.
Almost immediately, the wasps began to buzz loudly. Many of them flew from the nest, which had become seriously damaged as it entangled itself inside Hedge’s clothing.
Hedge had started to struggle against the rope holding him. He was panicking, as he could already feel several sharp pains in his groin area where the wasps were stinging him.
The group of senior boys watched the scene for a short while, laughing hysterically. One of them moved forward and kicked Hedge in the groin area, trying to agitate the wasps further. They quickly realised though, that the wasps were becoming seriously angry, and many of the insects had started to swarm around them, attracted by the noise of their laughter.
The older boys then all ran off as fast as they could. A few of the wasps chased them as they went.
Hedge was now all alone. He was wriggling his body frantically, and trying to pull his hands free of the rope.
He could feel the nest as it broke up inside his trousers. Bits of it were falling down the insides of his trouser legs. He was being stung all over the top of his thighs, all across his lower stomach, and even around his ankles. There was a sudden sharp pain that ran right through him, and he realised with horror that he had just been stung on his scrotum.
He tried to shout out, but the dirty handkerchief still covered his mouth.
A few tears had started to run down his face. Partly because he felt hopelessly trapped in this situation, but also because the pain of being stung so many times had become excruciating.
The Transamerica Cell: A fast paced, gripping, action adventure, conspiracy thriller, with a superb, breath-taking ending (Hedge & Cole Book 3) Page 7
