Sample
The old man drove his car west, out of Galway. It was the early hours of the morning and still very dark all around. The roads were quiet, just the way the old man liked them too, but that didn't stop him from driving with great care and just below the speed limit.
The life he'd led up until that point, caution and calm in the face of adversity, had always been his best friend. And on these old Galway country back roads there was no telling what late-night patrol cars were kicking about, just looking for any excuse to take out their frustrations with another week of night shifts on the next speeding motorist.
Sersha lay in the backseat of the old man's car, still unconscious. She had masking tape wrapped around her mouth leaving her nostrils free, while her arms and ankles were bound tightly with rope.
The old man continued driving through the dark hills and countryside. Suddenly Sersha's phone began vibrating, flashing, then ringing loudly from inside her jeans pocket. The old man glanced back at her, then down at her buzzing pocket. He cursed himself for not checking her more thoroughly back in Galway, but it had made him feel uncomfortable. He wasn't used to kidnapping young teenage girls, then rubbing his hands up and down their young, firm bodies, checking for unwanted items.
Sersha stirred. The intoxicating effects of the chloroform were beginning to wear off. She opened her eyes, just a little bit. Disturbed by the vibrating movements against her thigh. She was still in the haziness of dreamland and unaware of her predicament, even though her unconscious mind kept desperately screaming at her that something was wrong and she wasn't safe and sound at home, inside her comfy bed, as she'd imagined she was.
The old man swiftly pulled over to the side of the road. He had to get rid of that blasted phone. He stepped out of the car and opened the back door. He leaned in over Sersha. She stirred again, becoming more and more restless in her unconscious state.
The old man reached into her tight jeans pocket and grabbed the noisy, vibrating culprit. He was just about to throw the damn thing into a nearby field when he studied it for a second. ‘Mary' was calling. So someone does care for the girl after all. And it only took you half the bleedin' night. The old man powered down the phone and threw it hard and far into the nearby dark field.
The old man kept driving. He drove deep and slow, into the heart of a thick, dark forest. He drove at a crawling pace down a single dirt road for a good ten minutes before his headlights revealed an old, hidden tunnel just up ahead.
The entrance had weeds overgrowing it from every angle. He pulled up beside the old tunnel, which looked big enough to fit a small lorry inside. He turned off his headlights and took a small flashlight from underneath the passenger seat. He took a quick glance into the backseat and at Sersha again. At first glance, with her eyes firmly shut and her body completely still, she looked out for the count.
Satisfied with his observations, the old man opened his driver-side door and left the car.
When the door slammed shut, Sersha opened her eyes wide with fear. She was very much awake and had been for some time. She watched the old man hovering around outside for a few hesitant moments. Eventually he walked out of her line of sight.
Sersha tried hard to remember just what the hell had happened to her that night. One minute she'd been in a good mood, walking cheerfully home after her dance auditions at the community centre. She had almost made it back too, she felt sure of it. She remembered hazily getting off the bus, and then... the next moment she'd felt someone grabbing her hard from behind and a dirty filthy towel covering her mouth with that god awful-smelling substance.
She could remember nothing after that. She had blacked out. And now here she lay, tied and bound, in the backseat of some old pervert's car.
Sersha's anxious mind raced with all kinds of horrendous thoughts and images of what would become of her if she didn't at least try to get the hell away from the raging pervert.
She frantically struggled to free herself. She moaned wildly as she pulled and tugged at the tight rope around her hands and ankles. It was useless. She had been tied too damned tight and hard. She could roll from side to side no bother, but what good would that do her in such a tight space and nowhere to roll away to?
Outside, the old man approached the dark tunnel. He shone his flashlight a few yards inside until it fell upon a huge camouflaged canvas. It covered something big underneath, bigger than two cars piled on top each other, anyhow. The old man approached the canvas and pulled it roughly from the object. Underneath, a large white transit van sat in wait.
The old man pulled a set of keys from his pocket and opened the back doors of the van. He shone his torch inside to reveal a double mattress, some water bottles and a couple of empty buckets.
Back inside the car, a determined Sersha continued to struggle with her ropes. She rolled back and forth, over and over again, desperately trying to loosen them and free herself. She knew deep in her heart that it was all for nothing, but for the young fiery life inside her, she had to try something, anything at all.
Suddenly the door in front of her head opened up. A startled Sersha ceased struggling instantly and turned onto her back to face her kidnapper. She gazed up at the old man with her gagged face. Her eyes were wide and pleading for any kind of mercy. The old man showed little and immediately pulled her out from the backseat like an old, rolled-up carpet. She moaned and groaned through her gag.
After the old man had dragged Sersha out of the car, he made a great effort to stand her upright. Sersha took a second to compose herself, then quickly glanced around at her surroundings. All she could see were dozens upon dozens of thick, dark trees, branches and bushes and nothing else.
Suddenly she caught a glimpse of the dark tunnel behind the old man and then she saw the back of the white van, its doors open invitingly wide. So this was where it would all end, she anxiously thought. This would be where her short life and sweet innocence would be taken from her.
For a fleeting moment she felt that losing her virginity to Stephen Fletcher in the youth club utility cupboard last month had been the right call. She knew she would be kicking herself now if she'd stood by her morals, just like Betty Mcdougal had begged her to do so, and remained a virgin until the day she married.
Before she could reflect any further, the old man swiftly picked her up and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Sersha squealed. She wriggled and moaned as the old man carried her awkwardly towards the tunnel and the waiting van.
When he reached the open back doors, he lowered her abruptly from his shoulder. Sersha caught a quick glimpse of the mattress inside the van and panicked even more. She shook her head back and forth, over and over. Her assumptions were right. She was going to be the victim of a brutal sex crime at the hands of this old pervert, and there was absolutely nothing her strong, youthful body could do about it.
She knew that without the restraints she'd have a great chance of doing some damage to the old man, but tied up and at his mercy she was as good as his. He could do whatever the hell he pleased.
Then the old man did something totally unexpected. He turned her around to face him, urging her to sit upon the edge of the van's rear bumper. She'd been one-hundred-percent certain that he was going to bundle her into the back of the van as quickly as possible, and onto that mattress to begin his dirty deeds.
The old man crouched gently in front of her so that he was exactly eye level with Sersha. After a slight hesitation, he spoke to her in a very calm and composed manner.
'Sersha? Listen to me now, all right lass?'
But Sersha did not want to listen to anything the dirty old man had to say. Especially if it was anything about all the filthy things he was going to do to her innocent little body in the back of this here, grotty little van and right on top of that big, dirty mattress too. A mattress that had probably been lying in there for god knows how many years, and used upon how many other countless innocent victims.
Sersha started breathing hard, almost hyperventilating. She tried to focus on anywhere and anything except the old man.
'Sersha? Are you listening to me now?' continued the old man, shaking her a little harder. Sersha froze and glared at him. It was the first time she had truly looked at his hard, wrinkled, rough-shaven face.
She stared with great disgust right into his raw blue, yet deep and concerned, eyes. A little confused, she quickly wondered just how on earth the dirty old creep bag had known her name? How did he know her? Had he been following her and watching her for some time? Exactly how long had he been following her before grabbing her off the streets like a stray dog? A day, a week? Months even, perhaps?
'I'm gonna take this tape off your mouth now, but only for a few seconds, all right, lass?' the old man stated, still very calm and composed.
Sersha nodded. Her eyes glazed wide with terror.
'But don't you scream or make any bleedin' sudden movements now, ya hear?' the old man said with a hearty warning.
Sersha nodded again.
The old man pulled the tape from her mouth. He had to pull it hard, right across her lips. Sersha screamed with the sting of the tape ripping over her mouth and upper lip. She'd never felt anything quite like it. All thoughts of the kidnapping, rape and murder of her of lovely, innocent young body, evaporated from her mind. She felt truly pissed off.
'Jesus fekin' Christ. Can I have me bleedin' lips back now, please?' Sersha cried, feeling more annoyed than she'd ever felt in her entire life.
'I told ya not to scream or I'll put it straight back on again,' the old man threatened. 'Didn't I just say that now?'
'Well it was fekin' sore. Why don't you let me try ripping some masking tape from your hairy-arsed face and see if you scream any less now?'
The old man chuckled. She was a feisty wee lass, all right. Just as he imagined she would be.
'I'm sorry. It's really strong stuff this, no?' said the old man, still smiling.
'You don't fekin' say, mister,' Sersha snapped back as she stretched her lips and mouth wide, like she was participating in a facial aerobics session. Then she exploded into a fit of uncontrollable, verbal rage, as she tried to condense everything running around her mind - all those anxious, horrible thoughts and feelings - into words and sentences.
'So what the hell do you want with me, anyhow? Why did you kidnap me from the street, you dirty old creepbag? Are you going to rape me now in the back of this here van? Is that what this is all about, huh? Is that why you brought me all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? You dirty, filthy, rotten, bleedin', perverted bastard, ya.' Sersha raged before spitting right into the old man's face.
She hesitated for a second, instantly regretting the action. Her emotions had gotten the better of her. She motioned her head back a little, waiting for the old man's retaliation. Like he might slap her in the face and grab her by the throat before spitting back into her own face again. Just like her third foster father had done when she was eleven years old, and for the pure, simple reason of not being able to finish her vegetables at the dinner table.
Surely some retaliation would come from the old man. She took a deep breath, expecting the worst.
The old man remained quiet and unemotional. He took a short moment to wipe the saliva away from his face.
'Now, that wasn't a very nice thing to do, was it now, Princess?' the old man finally replied, still cool, calm and collected.
Sersha felt even more shocked at the man's calmness and utter lack of retaliation. To tell the truth, it made her feel even more angry. 'Not a nice thing to do? You just drugged me and abducted me right off the fekin' streets of Galway, ya bleedin' head case.'
'Look! I don't have time for these wee dramatics right now, Princess. I have to go soon and leave you here on your own for a wee while. Is that all right?'
'You're leaving me here? On me own?' Sersha cried. Now that was unexpected. What happened to the raping or mutilation of her body? If the old man was going to do something horrible and repulsive, she'd rather he'd just get bloody well on with it and do it right there and then. Just get it over and done with.
'Would you rather I stay here with ya like? the old man replied with a cheeky grin. 'I thought you'd be glad to see the back of me, for a few hours at least.'
This irritated Sersha to the core. That the old man could be so cheerful and coy and make jokes at the expense of her misfortune. What kind of a sadistic creep bag was the man?
'I'd rather you take a big fekin' run and jump right off a big fekin' cliff and land right on a big bastard, spiky, jagged rock that impales ya right through your fekin' ersehole, ya erse-hole... but doesn't kill ya though, no. Just completely paralyses the fek out of ya for the rest of your miserable, pathetic, bleedin' life, ya old perverted scumbag, ya.'
The old man chuckled loudly again. 'Jeysus Christ, you've some mouth and imagination on ya there, lass.' He stood and straightened his crumpled suit jacket.
'Where are you going anyhow, Mr Kidnapper? When will you be back?' Sersha asked, fearing that the old man might never come back and she'd be left inside that van until she starved to death and faded away into a pile of dust and bones. What if he had a heart attack out on the road after he left? Then the joke would well and truly be on her.
'I told you lass, about an hour or so. And you're actually not far off from the truth there when you mention cliffs and jagged rocks and whatnot. But I need to leave now, before sunrise, ya know. I'll be back soon, though. I won't forget about ya, lass. I promise.'
'Great.' Sersha sighed in defeat. 'I'll have the bleedin' dinner ready for you getting back then, shall I?
The old man chuckled again. The girl was funny. She had a real good Irish sense of humour, even in the worst of times. Sersha looked mad as hell, though.
'What's so funny? You think this is bleedin' funny?' Sersha roared.
The old man just shook his head, still laughing profusely.
'No Sersha. I don't think this is bleedin' funny. But I think you're extremely funny. You really stitch me up with some of your crack there.'
'Well I'm glad to be of a service to ya, old fella. Maybe I'll even put in for a wee spot at the next comedy fringe in town.'
'Aren't ya even just a tiny wee bit scared of me now?' asked the old man, surprised at the girl's carefree, cynical and sarcastic attitude.
'Look at me. I'm fekin' petrified,' Sersha said, and she was, but her hard, stern, Irish-backbone personality was just as strong as the fear raging deep inside her. 'I don't want to lose me virginity,' she lied, '...to some smelly, stinking-arse, old homeless pikey bastard, out here in the middle of nowhere and in the back of his dirty, fekin', shagging-wagon old van. And just because no girl out and about in her right soba state of mind would ever look twice at ya, so he needs to take out his sexual anger and pent-up frustrations on innocent wee girls, just like me... And I am just an innocent wee girl by the way, I'll have you know, regardless of what me overgrown bosoms say about me down below there now.'
The old man smiled and gave Sersha a reassuring pat on her shoulder. 'Well, you don't have to be scared of me, Princess, that's for sure. I'm not going to rape you or touch you or anything that might cause you harm or offence now. That I can guarantee.'
'So, is kidnapping me against me will not offensive to the likes of you where you're from, then, old man?' Sersha retorted.
'Actually, in some parts of me land, no, no it's not. It's a perfectly legal act.'
The old man took a deep breath, sighed and placed his hands upon his hips. He had business to take care of and he had to take care of it before first light. He was wasting time here. They had all the time in the world to natter and argue and get to know each other, just as soon as his business had been finalised.
'Look, Sersha! I really need to go. Do you need a bathroom break before I leave? Or a wee drink of water even? I've got plenty of water there in the back of this here van, as you can see.'
Sersha turned away from the old man in a sulky teenage mood. If her sulks worked on gullible foster parents from time to time, surely to god they could work on strange old perverts too, who, apparently, hadn't kidnapped her for anything normal kidnappers would normally kidnap a young girl for.
'No thank you,' Sersha continued in her strop. 'I don't need anything from the likes of you.'
'Are you sure now? I might be gone for a good few hours at the most,' insisted the old man.
Sersha remained silent and continued to look anywhere but at the old man.
'Speak now or forever hold your piss, wee lass,' said the old man, chuckling at his wordplay joke.
'You're disgusting. Just put the tape back on me mouth and fek off, ya dirty old swine.'
'Sorry, lass. It was just a wee joke, was all. I meant no harm.'
Sersha remained deathly quiet. If looks could kill, the old man would be hung, drawn and quartered in the young girl's stare.
'Fair enough,' replied the old man, shrugging his shoulders, suggesting that he'd tried his best to be as reasonable as he could. He put the tape back around Sersha's gob. She didn't resist. He helped her roll into the back of the van as Sersha stared helplessly back up at him. The old man then gave her a faint, reassuring smile. Sersha just gently shook her head.
'I'll be back as soon as I can, all right lass. Then I'll make us a nice wee hearty breakfast and a cuppa tea before we hit the road. How does that sound?' the old man asked.
From underneath her taped mouth Sersha mumbled what sounded like a string of foul mouth obscenities as the old man just grinned and shut the van door, locking it tightly shut.
***
The old man drove onto the top of a secluded clifftop, just as the sun began poking its firm round head up from its horizon, Atlantic ocean bed. Next stop, America, the old man thought as he gazed at the never-ending stretch of ocean.
He parked close to the edge of the cliff and stared out at the beautiful, gloomy, grey sea for a short time. Finally, he climbed out of the car. He opened the boot and glanced inside. The tied and gagged young man with the crater face stared angrily up at him. His eyes were red, swollen and wide, full of rage and anger. His face was black and blue.
The old man didn't have to, but he ripped the tape away from the young man's rough-shaven mouth. He would give the cold heartless bastard one last chance to speak and say his final words, which was more than the younger man had been willing to give the old man and his dog.
The young man roared like a caged lion as the thick masking tape took away most of the facial hair around his mouth and cheeks.
'You thought of anything decent to say to me now, young fella?' the old man stated rather coldly.
The young man glared up at the older man with a sinister grin. He knew it was over for him, but he had no weak or pleading thoughts of forgiveness.
'Aye!' the young man spat. 'How's your fekin dog?'
The old man frowned for a moment. He then began fiercely punching the young man in the nose and mouth, over and over again. When blood covered the young man's face like erupting lava, the old man stopped just as quickly as he'd started.
'He was a good wee dog, that. Had him for a fair wee while too in all. Fifteen odd years and counting. Ever since he was just a tiny wee pup. Fair enough his wee back legs were almost going and his bark wasn't as enthusiastic as it used to be, but he didn't deserve to go out like that, ya know, ya cold-hearted, callous bastard, ya. Not one bit, ya hear?'
The young man winced in pain. He coughed so hard that he gurgled and spat up more blood, more than what looked to be flowing inside his veins. He turned back to the old man and looked him dead straight in the eye.
'You can't hide from us any longer, old man. We found you. I found you. And we'll find the lassie soon enough, too.'
The old man slammed the car boot, sealing the young man inside his tomb and final resting place. He'd heard enough of his pish now. The old man leaned back into the front of the car and took off the handbrake. Slowly, he pushed and rolled the car over the rest of the cliff edge, tipping it gently into the sea.
The old man wiped his hands. It was as simple as that.
Once the car had disappeared underneath the rough, early-morning waves, he started walking back the way he'd come...