The Transamerica Cell: A fast paced, gripping, action adventure, conspiracy thriller, with a superb, breath-taking ending (Hedge & Cole Book 3)

by Kevin Bradley

He pulled with all his might against the rope binding his hands, and miraculously, his left hand became free. He quickly untied himself, and then started to peel off his trousers. He then tore off his shirt, ripping away most of the buttons. His clothes were covered with the angry wasps, so he screwed them up into a ball, and threw them into a nearby hedge.

  He tore the dirty handkerchief from his mouth, threw it away, and started to run.

  He sprinted off in the direction of his boarding house. He looked ridiculous, clad in just his underpants and socks, and tears still flowing down his face. Groups of boys, and girls, laughed hysterically as he shot by.

  He didn’t care though. He was in pain. The stinging around his groin was awful. He ran all the way back to his dormitory. Stripped off his underwear, grabbed a towel, and headed for the bathroom. He poured out a boiling hot bath, and then gently lowered himself into it. The hot water scorched his skin, but it helped to soothe the stinging sensation.

  As he sat in the bath, he did three things.

  First of all, he cried. The pain was unbearable. Crying didn’t seem to help, but he did it anyway.

  Next, he counted the stings. He had bright red marks all over his body, and including three that he found on his scrotum, he had received seventy four wasp stings.

  Finally, he plotted his revenge.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hedge was running out of time.

  There were only ten more days left until the end of term. Then, the long summer break would begin. He was desperate to have his revenge on Baxter before they finished at college.

  Parts of his plan had already been completed.

  The first thing he had done was to get hold of a copy of the senior boys’ college timetable. That had been relatively easy. He had been ordered by one of Baxter’s classmates to take a bag back to the senior boys’ common room after school one afternoon. On the way, Hedge had diverted via the college library. Once there, he had opened the bag, photocopied the timetable he found inside, and then completed his journey.

  He was looking for a point on the timetable when the seniors had a whole afternoon in D block. This part of the school had the oldest buildings, and critically had the worst facilities. There were no changing rooms or rest areas. There was also only one toilet, which had to be used by all the students in the block. It was also quite a long way from the boarding houses.

  Hedge studied the copy he had made of the timetable. There were only two opportunities. The first was Monday afternoons, when the seniors had drama lessons from one o’clock until four thirty, or the second possibility was on a Thursday. The latter day was a long, Practical Science class, which didn’t end until five o’clock.

  Two weeks earlier, Hedge had asked a third year student to buy him some medication from the chemist. The lad had been going on a Geography field trip that day, and they always stopped in town for fish and chips on the way back from the outing.

  Hedge had paid dearly for the product. Partly in cash, as he had been charged double what the chemist’s price was, but also in embarrassment. The third year students had mocked him badly when they had found out what he was buying. So much for the secrecy he was promised.

  He was now ready for the final stage of his revenge plot.

  The time for action on his part would have to be Sunday evening, or Wednesday evening. He needed between twenty and twenty four hours for this to work properly. So timing would be critical.

  Dinner was served in the students’ canteen at six o’clock each evening. Boys in years one to five were required to take a seat in the dining room. This was optional for seniors. Boys in years six and seven could take food out. They often ate in the senior common room.

  So it was that just before six on Sunday that Hedge was hanging around outside the senior’s meeting place. Hedge had noticed that Baxter and some of his mates were present.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ one of the older boys had asked him. ‘Get lost you little shit.’

  ‘I’m now going over to the dining room,’ said Hedge. ‘Do any of you guys want me to bring you any food back?’

  ‘I told you to get lost.’ The senior swung a foot towards Hedge, but the kick missed its target.

  Hedge decided to leave. He would try again another day.

  On Wednesday he tried again, but no luck. He didn’t even spot Baxter amongst the senior boys.

  The following Sunday was the last one before the end of term. Hedge was getting worried. His plan wasn’t working. Again, he waited by the senior common room, but there was no sign of Baxter. Just after six o’clock he gave up, and started walking off. As he did so, Russ suddenly appeared. Hedge recognised him from his previous encounter.

  ‘Hey you,’ he shouted at Hedge. ‘Go and get me some dinner. Bring it back here. Hurry up, or you’ll get a beating.’

  ‘What should I get you?’ said Hedge.

  ‘I don’t care, it’s all crap anyway. Pasta or meat pie, if they have anything like that.’

  ‘Anyone else need anything?’

  ‘No. Just get going. Hurry up.’ Russ had grabbed hold of the younger boy by the back of the neck and was pushing him away.

  Hedge was disappointed. He wanted Baxter, but he’d settle for Russ, he thought. Encouraged by the push from the older boy, he started to run off, when a head appeared from inside the common room. Baxter was leaning around the door.

  ‘Get me something too. If I don’t like what you get, it’s going over your head. If you take more than five minutes, you get my knee in your balls. Go.’

  Hedge tried to look worried, but he felt elated. He turned and ran off towards the canteen. It would take him longer than five minutes, but it would be worth it.

  Almost ten minutes later, he returned to the seniors’ room carrying two plates of food. He handed them both to Russ, who was waiting at the door.

  ‘We owe you a kick in the bollocks. Not now though, but we won’t forget. Now piss off.’

  Hedge left quickly.

  He headed down to D block, hoping it was still open at this time in the evening. He had one more thing to do.

  Monday morning went without incident. After lunch, the senior students all headed off to block D for drama. Hedge watched them go. Baxter and his mates were among them. He allowed himself a smile.

  Drama was boring, so most of the senior boys thought. For Baxter it was a chance to mess about, and annoy his teacher, Mr Brown. Today though, he hadn’t been feeling well. He had a stomach ache most of the morning, and hadn’t eaten much at lunchtime.

  The drama class wasn’t even half way through, when Baxter suddenly felt the urge to go to the toilet. He needed to go badly. Or was it just wind? He wasn’t sure. If it was, then maybe he could relieve the pressure of it from where he sat.

  He eased himself onto one side, and tried to force some air out. Nothing happened. He looked towards the front of the room. Mr Brown was babbling on about the importance of hand gestures.

  ‘What a tosser,’ Baxter mumbled to himself. Russ heard him, and laughed quietly.

  Baxter lifted himself up again, and pushed once more. Yes, it felt like wind, he thought. It needed just one more hard push.

  ‘Oh no, no. Not now. No.’

  With a sudden dreadful realisation, Baxter knew what he had just done. Some called it the ‘follow through,’ others referred to the phenomenon as a ‘shart.’ Either way, his underpants were now full of warm, smelly excrement.’

  Russ smelt it almost immediately.

  ‘Jesus. Baxter is that you. Have you farted or what. Get yourself to the toilet.’

  Baxter jumped up. ‘Excuse me please sir,’ he said to Mr Brown. He darted towards the door without waiting for a reply.

  He ran to the end of the corridor, holding the back of his trousers with his right hand.

  ‘Oh my god,’ he screamed as he reached the only toilet in the block. The door had been padlocked shut. There was an ‘out of order’ notice pinned to it.

  Baxter was panic str
icken. More of his excrement had poured out from his backside. What was going on? He didn’t understand. He hadn’t eaten anything bad recently. The Spaghetti Bolognese he had eaten last night seemed fine. Russ had exactly the same meal and he seemed to be okay.

  The pressure had built up in his stomach again, and he desperately felt the need to push. He tried to resist, but he couldn’t. It was impossible. The muscles in his backside gave way again, and more of his brown waste poured out.

  His underwear was now so full of shit, that it had started to run down his trouser leg. The smell was horrendous.

  He had to get to a toilet, but he couldn’t think where the nearest one was. His mind was racing, but he couldn’t think clearly.

  With both hands now holding the back of his trousers, he rushed out of D block, and sprinted towards his boarding house. It was a long way, and on several occasions he had to stop and relieve the pressure. Most of the smelly, brown faeces went down his trouser leg, but at one particularly horrible point, he had to bend down behind a small bush. A group of junior boys spotted him doing this, and they laughed hysterically.

  Finally, he made it back to his room. Unfortunately there were trails of brown matter behind him for most of the journey. There was also riotous laughter following him all the way back.

  His trousers were ruined. They stank terribly. He threw them on his bed, accidentally covering his bed sheets with his shit. Realising his mistake, he pushed them onto the floor. Now his carpet had large brown stains on.

  He didn’t know what to do. He was still crapping himself, and a small pile had gathered on the floor behind where he was standing.

  Eventually, he got into his shower. He washed himself thoroughly, and stood under the hot water for a few minutes. Finally, he turned the shower off. He was about to step out of the cubicle, when he felt the urge once more. He stood where he was, and realised with horror that more of the stuff was coming out from his backside.

  It was more than an hour later that Baxter eventually left the shower. He dressed tentatively, and walked down to the senior common room. He wanted to see if anyone else had developed a bad case of diarrhoea.

  As he approached the common room, a loud cheer erupted, and laughter boomed out.

  One senior boy shouted out to him. ‘Mr Brown wants to know if you are alright. Although, it seems we now have another Mr Brown.’

  More laughter erupted from those gathered around.

  Baxter turned and fled.

  He called his parents later that evening, and asked them to pick him up early from school. He wanted to get home before the end of term. He left the same night, and was never seen at Upperdale again.

  Hedge’s uncle picked him up as normal at the end of term. He couldn’t understand why he had so many bags to bring home.

  ‘I thought you only brought two suit cases with you at the start of term?’ he said. ‘What are these other three bags?’

  Hedge just shrugged, and hoped he would ignore it. He climbed into the front of his uncle’s car. His uncle couldn’t help but wonder, so he took a quick look in one of the bags as he was loading them into the car. He was quite bemused. The bag he opened was completely full of sweets, biscuits and cakes.

  ‘Very strange,’ he said to himself. He never mentioned it again though.

  Chapter Twenty

  Back in the present time, Hedge noticed that the fuel gauge on his car was getting close to empty. He had seen a sign a short while ago for a small town approaching in just a few miles. He would pull over there and refill. Maybe the three of them would stop for a coffee and a burger.

  The small town of Van Horn came upon them sooner than expected, and Hedge pulled his Mustang off the highway, and drove into a fuel station. Cole followed in his own vehicle.

  After refuelling, they all sauntered into a small roadside cafe. They ordered coffee and pancakes. Hedge had given up asking for tea, as he complained that the American’s didn’t make it properly. The coffee had a slight caramel flavour, so he hadn’t bothered to add any sugar. It was sweet enough already. He still stirred it though, for a full minute. He timed it exactly. Sixty seconds on the dot. Somehow it made him feel better. Old habits die hard.

  Maddie had started tucking into the pancakes. She was on her second one already.

  Cole was shaking his head. ‘How do you manage to stay so slim, with all that food you keep putting away?’

  Maddie laughed. ‘It’s all good, wholesome American food, you know.’

  ‘Well. I’m just glad it’s not me paying the bill. You two both eat too much.’ Cole was frowning across at Hedge, who was also on his second pancake by now. He’d covered the surface of it with sticky, chocolate spread.

  ‘Here, take this. See if you can get a discount on the bill.’ Cole passed a small strip of coloured paper across to his friend.

  Hedge cut off a large slice of pancake, and stuffed it into his mouth. As he did so, he glanced down at what was in front of him. It was a meal voucher, and entitled the bearer to fifty percent off their food bill, any day except Saturday.

  ‘That will come in handy,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so, look again.’ Cole was laughing.

  Hedge studied the voucher in more detail. At the bottom it stated that it was only valid in participating restaurants in Tijuana, Mexico.

  ‘What a waste of time.’ Hedge pushed it away. ‘Where did you get it from?’

  ‘I found it in a storage compartment in my car. There was also a couple of Tijuana car parking tickets, and a road map of northern Mexico. The tickets were dated just a few weeks ago. Whoever had this car out before us must have driven across to Mexico.’

  ‘That sounds odd?’ Hedge had finished eating his second pancake.

  ‘Not really, lots of people take hire cars across the border.’

  ‘Okay, fair enough.’ Hedge looked round for the waitress. ‘I’m getting some more drinks, anyone else?’

  Maddie shook her head. Cole didn’t answer. His attention had been distracted. He was staring intently out of the window.

  Hedge looked across at him. ‘What’s the problem? I think that silver saloon has given up following us. No sign of it for the last hundred miles or so.’

  ‘Red,’ said Cole. He was still looking out across the car park.

  ‘It was definitely silver,’ said Maddie. She was busy pouring syrup onto her third pancake.

  ‘It’s red now,’ said Cole. He nodded his head in the direction that his eyes were facing. ‘It looks like a Chevrolet Cruze to me, although I’m no car expert. It’s been on our tail ever since we left El Paso.’

  As he spoke, the driver side door of the Cruze opened, and out stepped a man. He was dressed casually in navy blue jeans, and a white, short sleeved shirt. He was dark-skinned, with short black hair. Cole guessed him to be no older than late twenties. The man turned his head and looked around slowly, his movement stopping as he spotted the two Mustangs parked side by side.

  ‘Our friend seems a little nervous to me, and he seems to have an interest in our vehicles. I may go over and have a little chat with him.’

  Cole took a large swig of his coffee, stood up, and started walking towards the cafe entrance. He was wearing a lightweight jacket, and he pulled it tight, before buttoned up the front as he left the building.

  Hedge noticed the bulge that appeared near the small of Cole’s back. He had something tucked into the top of his jeans. Suddenly, he felt anxious. He took a deep breath, and stirred his coffee for a while longer. He still hadn’t added any sugar though, so the action was again unnecessary.

  Cole approached the red saloon, and shouted across to the driver of the Cruze.

  The young man looked back at Cole as he closed in on him. He appeared scared, and moved slowly away from the red Chevrolet.

  Cole shouted again, and continued to walk towards him.

  The man turned and fled. He ran across the car park, and onto some rough ground. Cole gave chase. Hedge and Maddie had by no
w also left the cafe, and were chasing after Cole. The young man had a good head start, and he reached the boundary fence for the service area after two hundred yards. The fence was crude, constructed of simple wooden posts, spanned with bright steel wire. Its height was only about four feet, and the young man vaulted it without too much effort. He continued to run off across the boulder strewn desert.

  Cole, Hedge, and Maddie were still giving chase. Their attention was distracted momentarily by a noise coming from a point just to the west of them. As they looked for the source of the noise, it sounded again. It was like a ships fog horn, but a slightly higher pitch. It wasn’t a ship though. What they saw moving towards them was a train. A long one, and at the front was a huge, yellow engine. Behind this, strewn for what looked like miles, was a snake of containers, all being pulled slowly along.

  ‘It looks like a Union Pacific freight train,’ shouted Cole. ‘I think he’s heading for it.’

  The driver of the Cruze had almost reached the front of the train. The big locomotive had a guard walkway running along its length, with protective rails for safety. Cole was only twenty yards behind the young man, when he saw him leap for the guard rail as the train passed close by him.

  He managed to grab the rail with one hand, and held on for a few seconds. He was trying to swing his feet onto the walkway, but he couldn’t quite make it. Still he clung onto the rail, and had managed to get both hands on to it. But he still couldn’t quite lift his feet up high enough. The distance was too great. The effort needed was too much.

  His arms were tiring quickly. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer. He let go of the rail with his left hand, and tried to push himself away from the moving locomotive. As he did so, his body swung round, and he landed in the dirt, close to the moving train.

  The young man shouted out, the impact from hitting the ground had hurt. He felt a rib bone in his chest break. His body had luckily avoided the wheels of the train, as had his legs. His arms though, had been thrown forward, above his head as he landed.

  For a split second they were both lying across the track.