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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Runaway Dream Ch.1 by Rachael Ross (F/f, Vampire, Rom, Drugs, Prostitution, Violence, Horror)
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Date: Thu, 03 May 2007 04:10:03 -0400
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The Runaway Dream

Copyright 2000-2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for
adults.
Story Codes (F/f, Vampire, Rom, Drugs, Prostitution, Violence, Horror)

Note: You should read the first part titled "Runaway Dream Intro"
before starting this chapter.


The Runaway Dream
by rache

Chapter One - Remembering Fear

"I will show you fear in a handful of dust." - T.S.Eliot


It was dark when I woke up and it took me a second to remember where I
was. Curled up in the passenger seat of a Honda Civic. The engine was
off and it was quiet. There was some light, more grey than any real
color, coming from the windows and I blinked, looking around. I was in
a parking garage; it looked like, not very full. A few cars scattered
around, but most of them crowded against a distant wall. The light was
coming from a couple ramps mostly, daylight.

I stretched and tried to straighten my legs, feeling stiff. I caught
sight of the woman, Angela, in the back seat. Sleeping much as I had
been. I watched her for a few minutes and her body didn't move, not
even her breasts, as if she weren't breathing at all. I thought about
touching her, just to see if she was alive. But I didn't. If she was
asleep, she probably needed it. If she was dead, it wasn't like I was
gonna be able to do anything for her.

My body was sore and I needed to take a piss. I sat up a little
straighter, moving my feet so I could put my boots on. I didn't have a
clue where we were, and it didn't matter anyway. I moved between the
front bumper and the cement wall, painted yellow and dulled lifeless
with years and dust. I undid my jeans and pulled my panties down,
squatting so I could pee between my widespread feet, spreading my
labes a bit with my fingers. It was a relief and I wiped my pussy with
my fingers and then my palm, drying my hand on the cuff of my pants.

I checked my pockets and found my last cigarette, rumpled and bent,
but not bad. I straightened it gently and sat down on the hood of the
car, lighting it with my Zippo. It was good, harsh and stale and deep
in my lungs. I just smoked and stared at the dark pool of urine
spoiling the floor of that garage. Somewhere above us tires squealed,
but that was the only sound I heard. It was cold down there, and a
little damp, and my cigarette burned down all too quick.

I looked through the car, quietly, just in case the woman woke up. The
only thing in the glove compartment was some papers, registration and
insurance, crap like that. Nancy Parker was the name on everything,
the address someplace in Utah, Salt Lake City. The car had Utah plates
too, I hadn't noticed before, but I got out to look. A map of
Washington state, with maps of Seattle and Spokane and a couple other
places on the back. There wasn't any writing or anything on it.

I found the woman's purse, Nancy, or Angela, whoever she was. She
looked dead in the back seat and I finally did touch her. She was
cool, but not cold. Not breathing either. She had a Utah driver's
license, Angela Stokes, and it was just a couple weeks since she got
it. It said she was 29 years old and not much else. Her hair was loose
in the picture, falling straight around her face. She had some money
in a wallet, about eighty dollars and I took that, no credit cards
though. Some makeup, some Wrigley's gum, the yellow stuff that's too
sweet. Whoever this chick was, she was pretty boring, I thought.

I didn't know what killed her, but part of me thought maybe it might
be catching, so I didn't stay long. She wasn't the first dead person
I'd seen, or even the second, that had been my parents, although I
hadn't known it at the time. I'd just thought they were sleeping. Like
I'd thought maybe Angela was sleeping at first. In between them and
her I'd seen a bum once, a homeless guy frozen to death. God had been
in him too, maybe, and I wondered at what point did God bail? Maybe He
was in it for the whole fucking ride. I hoped so. I hope a little bit
of Him died too, just so He'd know what it was like.

I locked Angela in the back, leaving her watch and jewelry, and the
keys in the ignition. I went towards the light, towards wherever I
was, and I didn't look back.

Three days and I'd made good time. It was hot too, moving south in the
Nevada desert, falling out of the mountains. I didn't know what I was
doing, or where I was going, but I'd had to pick a direction from
Spokane, and I'd picked south.

"Water." I licked my lips. "I need some water."

"Hey." Ronny was driving. Ronny with a 'y'. "You been asleep about a
zillion miles."

I looked around and it was dark, the sun had gone down. Not quite all
the way, there was some red and yellow in the air, but it was black
mostly. I took the water bottle he gave me, the one he kept wedged
between his seat and the car door. It was warm, and flat tasting, but
I didn't care. I poured some in my hand and wet my face. I felt dried
up and brittle.

"Gas station coming." Ronny was saying. "You wanna stop or something?"

"Just let me out here." I had a couple smokes left in my jacket pocket
and I pulled one out, careful of my wet fingers and put it between my
lips, pushing the little round lighter into the dash until it clicked.

"Here?" The guy was looking at me.

"Wherever, yeah." I shrugged, clicking my fingers, waiting for the
lighter to pop back out.

"I figured you were goin all the way..." He sounded kinda sad.

"With you?" I giggled, trying to sound cruel just so he'd get pissed
and stop the fuckin car. The lighter popped and I held it to my
cigarette, sucking and then blowing out the words, "Uh-huh, not with
you."

We could see the lights ahead. They put those gas station signs like
two hundred feet high or something and the next one was a Texaco. He
pulled over anyway, not saying much, just looking at me and when I got
out he pulled away hard, like he was spitting dirt at me.

I coulda stayed with him, but it woulda been bad. I didn't like
hurting people that were nice to me and he hadn't been bad. Picking me
up around noon that day and letting me sleep until after seven at
night. He was one of those guys who would ask, he'd watch me all the
while, wanting and wishing, but always asking and then I'd have to
tell him no. It was better just to piss him off.

I walked along the shoulder towards the gas station in the distance,
not looking for anything, but a car stopped anyway. It was big grey
Lincoln and it rumbled as I walked up to it, the passenger door pushed
open as I got close.

"Hop in, Missy." The guy was big, like Texas, all sprawled out and
smiling like he knew a free dinner when he saw one.

"Thanks." I smiled, pulling my purse off my shoulder and sliding in,
pulling the heavy door closed behind me. The guy locked it
automatically. "Cold in here." I rubbed myself through my jacket, an
old denim thing with a lot of flair.

"I got the 'ditioner on." The man reached for the dash, pushing a
button. "Where ya headed?"

"That gas station." I pointed.

He chuckled at that. "Okay, then what? You got family round here?"

"Nope." I shrugged. "I don't. You got any water?"

"Eh? Water, no. I got some brandy. Want some of that?"

"No." I shook my head.

"I keep it for snake bite and such." He shrugged a little and looked
me over in the dim light. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen." I leaned back, kicking off my boots and scooting my butt
down a little. I put my feet on the dash, my little toes wriggling in
my white socks against the cold windshield glass.

"Say what?" The guy blinked and I just smiled, feeling my knife in my
pocket.

"You ain't stoppin' at the gas station, are you mister?" I turned my
head, watching the exit go by.

"There's another one up the road a piece. Exxon. I got a credit card
for them." He was sweating already, sitting in that car with the
windows up, driving through the hot Nevada night with no AC. Staring
at a girl who was probably on a milk carton someplace. Yeah, he wasn't
stopping til he got to hell.

This wasn't Ronny and that was okay. I knew what he was. He thought he
knew me too, but he didn't. It was going to hurt, probably, but that
happens sometimes. It was the price of being me and I couldn't do
anything about it. If the guy was smart he'd just let me out now,
because we both knew there wasn't any Exxon coming. Just a turn off
maybe, a dirt road into the night where he could do whatever he
wanted.

Part of me thought I shoulda stayed with Ronny and gone ahead and
disappointed him later. But thinking about that was where the fear
lived and I didn't want that. I had to be stronger than this guy and
he wasn't scared of me at all.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Uh, Howard. What's yours?"

"Lisa." I hugged myself, still feeling cold even though the guy had
turned the air conditioning down to almost nothing.

He didn't wait very long.

"Where are we going?" I asked him ten minutes later, he'd slowed down
and took a right onto a gravel road that bisected the highway. I could
hear the little rocks kicked up and hitting the underside of the car.

"Just up yonder a piece. I gotta check something." He shrugged.

"Maybe I can just get out here..." I licked my lips, feeling my heart
thump a little even though I'd known this was coming. I took my feet
off the dash, sitting up and reaching for my boots but the man put a
heavy hand on my left knee.

"Naw, just take a few minutes." He gave me a little squeeze and I was
reaching for my pocket, slowly for my knife.

When he finally stopped the car we were maybe 2 miles off the highway,
maybe not even that far, and there was dust in the headlights like dry
yellow fog. I had my knife out and I sat there, reaching for the door
handle, but Howard stopped me.

"Whoa, don't get out." He was turning his big body. "Snakes out there
at night."

"What are we doing?" I asked him. He shut off the engine and it was
quiet, so quiet just the rustle of his clothing sounded loud. I could
hear his heavy breathing and my heart beating.

"Just want to get to know you better, sweetheart, that's all." He
smiled, leaning closer, moving across the big bench seat of that old
Caddy. His hand was on my thigh, and another moving up to my shoulder.

"I just want to leave, okay?" I asked him softly.

"In a little bit, Lisa." He was almost on me, just a big shape with
hands and teeth. A monster and God was inside him and I wasn't afraid
when I thought about that. God was in there, all hot and hungry for
me, and I could hurt him maybe.

I flicked my wrist in a move I practiced a thousand times a day,
snapping the three and half inch blade free with a snick as it locked
into place and I stabbed low, right for his groin. I'd find God down
there, all bloated and eager. I'd cut the fucker good this time and I
never took my eyes from his. I wanted to see the surprise.

The tip of my knife hit his belt buckle, a big round one, as it just
had to be for a guy like Howard. It deflected my knife so the only
thing I cut was his shirt and we saw the surprise on each other's
faces. I was quick, but so was he, and I didn't get another chance.
The man was big and strong and suddenly aware that he'd almost died,
or been seriously bled anyway. It made him a little mad.

"You fuckin whore!" He slapped my face again, for maybe the third or
fourth time, but I was still fighting. He was sitting on my legs, on
my shins and knees, holding my left wrist with his left hand, his
forearm across my neck, leaning into me so I was pinned to the door
behind me. My right had was free, but weakening and he'd been knocking
my punches away in between hitting my face.

I was probably going to pass out petty soon. My throat hurt, even more
than my face, and I was breathing against a heaviness that was
crushing my lungs. He was going to kill me, I knew. Maybe not right
away, probably not until after he'd fucked me and beat me up some
more. But he wasn't ever going to let me leave this spot. It was
weird, like the last thing I ever would have expected. Dying in the
black desert of a cold Nevada night.

Somewhere in all that darkness a light started shining and I coughed,
breathing painfully. I felt dizzy and sick and I could taste blood. I
felt lighter all of a sudden and it took a few seconds to realize the
guy wasn't on me anymore. The inside of the car was lit weakly from
the dome light above me and the driver's door was open. There was a
little beeping sound that confused me at first, until I realized the
keys were in the ignition.

I sat up slowly, looking around but I didn't see anything. The
headlights were on, and outside the open door it was empty darkness.
All the other windows just reflected me. I swallowed hard and it hurt
and I looked around in the shadows of the floorboard for my knife.
He'd knocked it out of my hand and I found it after a minute of
feeling around the dirt and sand covered rubber floor mat. I found my
boots too and pulled them on awkwardly, refusing to let go of my
knife.

I didn't know where the guy was and my heart was pumping hard. I could
breathe and it hurt, and I tried to slow down, but I was shaking too.
I was going to cry in a second and that made me feel ashamed of
myself. I was tougher than this. I wasn't hurt, and I wasn't dead. I
didn't have anything to cry about. But I was still gonna cry.

"Hey!"

My body jerked in surprise as a shape suddenly filled the open door. I
brought my knife up, holding it in front of me a pressing myself back
against the passenger door. I blinked, staring at the woman and the
blade of my knife wavered uncertainly.

"Are you okay?" She was breathing hard and flushed red, smiling with
blood covering her mouth and chin, down her neck and soaked into her
blouse. She was all red and wet.

"Angela?" I said, but I could barely get the word out.

"Stay here." She told me and then left, closing the door behind her so
that the light went out.

I sat there for a minute, maybe two, unmoving, not even lowering my
knife. I was frightened and confused. She'd been dead. I'd touched her
and she was dead before, she had to be. I wondered if I was dead,
maybe the guy had killed me and this was just all some last dream. Or
just hell maybe. Angela was dead and she was in hell waiting for me.
Maybe that old black guy was here too and I was shaking. I didn't want
to see him again.

I was going crazy and I moved to look out the windows, going from one
to the next, scrambling across and over the seats, pressing my face to
the glass and trying to see outside. But it was blackness everywhere
except where the headlights were shining, and there wasn't anybody out
there. I was in the backseat now, panting and nervous and I wiped my
nose with the back of my hand. It came away bloody, black blood in the
dim light. There weren't any colors anymore.

I thought about getting out but I was afraid. When the door opened
again I almost screamed and it was Angela. She looked at me without a
word and found the button to release the trunk and I felt more than
heard it open. A few minutes later a thump and then Angela was pushing
a bag into the front seat, glancing at me and maybe smiling, or maybe
not. It was a funny look and I shrank away from her. She stood outside
the car, where I could see her, undressing and cleaning herself with
bottled water. She was naked from the waist up when she got inside the
front, opening her bag and finding a big white t-shirt.

"Are you okay?" She asked me. I just nodded. "Your bleeding." She
handed me a torn bit of cloth, ripped from her blouse maybe, or
Howard's shirt. But I was afraid to ask.

She closed the door and started the car, making a big wide turn and
for just a second the headlights caught the man's form, sprawled on
the rocky ground. I couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, or even
hurt at all. He was just laying there on his back, dark and dirty and
unmoving. I just huddled in the back seat, as far from the woman as I
could get, hugging my knees and holding my knife in one hand, the
cloth to my injured face with the other.

end of Part Two

========--- )-( ---========


Continued in Part Three

rache696@yahoo.com
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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