Chapter 60: Chapter Sixty

"Did you get it?" Brad hissed. Irene was standing in front of him with the bag in her hands but he was unable to focus. She set the bag on his chest.

Brad fumbled with the zipper but didn't have the strength. "C'mon Irene. Christ, help me here. Give me one."

Irene got to her knees, unzipped the bag and stuffed a hand inside. Her fingers closed on something the size of a brick. When she pulled it out and passed it to Brad she saw that it was tightly wrapped in plastic. Irene had seen enough crime television to know it was cocaine.

With quaking fingers Brad produced an instrument from a side-pocket. To Irene it looked like a small penknife but the blade was a narrow trough. Brad punctured the plastic and when he withdrew the device, it contained a sample of power. He put it to a nostril and inhaled sharply. He repeated the procedure, charging the opposite nostril.

The effect was instantaneous. His face smoothed and his shoulders slumped. The audible sigh was one of satisfaction. He gathered some spilled powder on a fingertip and rubbed it into his gums.

Irene got to her feet. "You've been smuggling cocaine?" she asked pointedly.

Brad's eyes flashed surprise, like he was recognizing her for the first time, then narrowed and he pulled the brick closer as if afraid she would take it. "I need this," he said by way of explanation.

Irene turned to go, her mind flirting with the image of Jack Namath's Treasury Department shield and ID. "Don't let anyone catch you with that stuff. You'll lose it," she warned.

He looked up, eyes glistening. "Our secret..." and the words got hung up in his mouth. For the first time, he realized she was dressed only in white underwear; bra and pants. Brad knew the sight of her should excite him but he was too sick, or maybe too stoned to care.

Irene joined the others for the walk to the river. The volleyball players had shared locker room showers for years and felt no compulsion about stripping naked for the morning swim. It had taken Irene and her girls a few days to get over their modesty, but now they too enjoyed the cool water sans swimwear. Each girl was doled out a squirt of precious dish soap for shampooing and after, squeezed the suds from her hair to launder her scant clothing.

Once clean and rinsed, the girls retreated to the rocks where they helped each other straighten out tangles while the sun warmed their naked backs.

The rest of the morning was spent foraging in the woods. Wild onions were dug from the soft earth, tubers were collected from the bull-rushes. And someone found fungus growing on the side of a tree.

Back at the compound, Irene was helping unpack the bags that held their sparse collection of vegetables. She turned fearful eyes toward the Pigpen. It appeared very, very empty. But Irene said nothing.

Throughout the afternoon, each girl in turn, came to the realization that the big dike from Pittsburgh was gone. But there had been no discussion; each girl nursed a fearful silence; each looked to the evening meal with trepidation. With nothing to eat but leftover scraps, the women were slowly starving and had little choice but to eat what the men allowed them.

Later that night, when Ashwin pulled the sheet of metal from his roasting pot, Irene bit her lips and held a quaking stomach. In the swirl of fragrant steam she saw two roasts side by side. They had the shape and look of a pair of buttocks; woman's buttocks. The men gathered around the fire, plates in hand and, murmuring their approval, they watched Ashwin carve thick pieces of meat. Once their plates were filled the girls came forward. Some reluctantly sampled the meat, others ate only onion and tubers; each girl juggling her feelings, wrestling with her decisions, and reaching her own conclusions.

Irene retreated to the log she shared with Linda and Pamela and sat on the pine-needles to tally her losses: her plane, her lover, and most galling, she had lost to Ashwin Franks. Her insides curdled as Helen's words harkened in her brain: "Kill Ashwin Franks. Catch him sleeping or with his back turned. Kill him, Irene, and the other men will fall into line."

There was a movement and Irene glanced up.

Linda was holding a plate. "I brought you some." And she dropped to her knees.

Irene's face betrayed her distaste for the food. "I can't even look at it let alone eat it."

Linda's lips twitched. "You have to eat, Irene. We, me and the others, we want you to be strong for us. We need you."

Irene turned her head away. Linda's remark was heartfelt but rang hollow in Irene's ears. "But it's..."

"It's not anything," Linda snapped. "Don't think about what it was but what it is: Protein. You'll die without it. Your system needs it, Irene. It's like any other bitter medicine our mothers made us swallow. If you can't bear to look, close your eyes." Linda speared a cube of meat on the end of a fork.

Falling back on stoic unemotional academia, Linda had reduced the horror of eating flesh to practical and acceptable terms for herself. And now she was bestowing those same moral sensibilities on Irene.

Irene didn't think she could buy it, but saw the logic in it.

"Please try..." Linda pleaded.

The sentiment struck Irene forcibly this time and she turned back to ponder the softness in Linda's eyes.

Linda leaned closer. "For me," she whispered.

Irene closed her eyes. She felt the fork at her lips, the warm moisture and the fragrance of onion rose in her nostrils. And finally, Irene opened her mouth.

Linda placed the morsel of meat on Irene's tongue. The back of Irene's throat reacted violently, contracting to obstruct the passage to her stomach. Irene didn't chew. With a physical effort she forced the meat back to where she would either swallow or choke. And it went down whole.

Linda wasn't about to waste time celebrating her victory. She was already slipping a second piece of meat between Irene's lips. It went down easier this time, followed by a third.

"Have some onion," Linda encouraged and Irene, eyes open now, took the stalk from Linda's fingers and munched on it. More meat followed and when the plate was clean, Linda leaned back, a look of satisfaction on her face. "I'll just go get some for myself."

A flash of surprise. "You haven't eaten?" Irene asked.

Linda got to her feet. "Don't worry. For once there's lots of food; enough to go around. We'll all sleep well tonight on full tummies."

When Linda returned with the plate, they sat side by side with Irene's blanket pulled across their bare legs. The sun had descended in the east and cool air was drifting down the mountainside from the snowy peaks. They sat silently, nestled together, with only the sound of Linda's fork between them. Irene looked forward to Pamela joining them under the blanket. The additional heat from the young girl's body would make things warm and toasty.

Irene was jarred from her cozy thoughts.

"Now what the hell are they up to?" Linda's spine stiffened.

Two men were lifting the cargo trunk closer to the fire and behind, Ashwin sat in his pilfered passenger seat and sipped scotch. Either side of his knees, Darlene and Betts huddled on the ground like two acolytes, each with an arm draped across Ashwin's legs. But his focus was clearly on Alex who, sitting on a log opposite, shifted nervously under his intense gaze.

"Time for a little girl-on-girl action," he announced flatly to everyone seated around the fire. Darlene's head came up, panic shimmering behind her eyes. "Darlene. Up on the box."

A tremor rippled through the girl's limbs. "Me?" she uttered, her voice small, the fear leaking out. He was picking on her and she was lost to know the reason why. "Let someone else have a turn," she stammered.

Ashwin's eyes were still on Alex. "Stand up Darlene and take your clothes off."

Darlene lower lip quivered. "Please. Not me again." But she had started to get to her feet. In the fire-glow, with everyone watching, she pulled her jacket off and slipped her under-panties down rakish legs.

Even though a slim girl Darlene's breasts were plump, but with the firmness of youth the mounds swooped up from her chest in a sexy curve and each was coronated by an erect brown nipple. She carried the breast-fullness low down and that set her breasts swaying seductively when she leaned forward to mount the box. There was no doubt in anyone's mind why Ashwin had singled Darlene out.

But Ashwin's eyes were still on Alex, and the look of vivid surprise on her face when he didn't call out her name. Alex had expected to be summoned to join Darlene who was now naked, face-up on the cargo trunk with her knees cocked and waiting for a sex-partner. Instead, Ashwin stood and pulled Betts to her feet. "Strip. Go sixty-nine her."

Betts, accepting the futility of protesting, hunched and started unsnapping her jacket.

While Betts removed her underpants, Ashwin arranged her six team mates. He got the volleyball players seated on the ground around the trunk where they could get a close-up view of the action and provide an attractive backdrop for his camera. A team photograph, he chuckled to himself, eyeing the lineup of sporty girls in their matching jackets.

Betts climbed atop the cargo trunk, a knee either side of Darlene's shoulders, and carefully lowered her vagina onto the girl's mouth. Satisfied with her position, Betts leaned forward on her forearms and dropped her head between Darlene's open thighs and started to lick.

Ashwin aimed his camera and the men crowded close to watch.

Irene seethed as a man fingered Darlene's anus. "How can men be so god-awful disgusting?"

For once, Linda didn't have an answer.

After Ashwin had his photographs, he untangled the naked girls and claimed them for his own, an arm around each, but the look he shot Alex could not be misconstrued: She was next. Alex looked down and tried to swallow the lump that blocked her throat. When she lifted her eyes again, Ashwin was pushing Betts and Darlene into the enclosure and crawling in after them. The men would have to sleep around the fire but the sounds of rutting and the cries of pain and dismay kept everyone awake late into the night.

When Irene woke the next morning, the first thing she saw was the plume of her breath. She flipped the blanket back and sat up. There was a light frosting sparkling on the pine-needles. As pretty as it was, the ominous signs of approaching winter were quite clear and that thought grounded her. She tried to recall how many days they had survived on the mountainside and with no sign of a rescue effort, Irene wondered how long they could last in the coming snow and freezing temperatures. One thing was certain; the women needed shelter.

Irene got the girls up and stoking the remains of the campfire, they put water on for spruce tea. It was a mild brew but hot, tasted slightly of gin and warmed the girls until the sun began to gather. There was movement from inside the men's shelter and a moment later Darlene stumbled out followed by Betts shielding her eyes from the light. The girls were still naked but each held a blanket draped about her shoulders.

They looked bruised and battered. Their disheveled hair was fraught with pine-needles and a trickle of blood had clotted on Darlene's upper lip. Her eyes were blackened and she was sobbing.

With all eyes turned in their direction, the girls cowered under a dark cloud of humiliation. Silently they crossed the compound, dropped to the ground and into each other's arms, weeping bitterly.

No one dared approach them. All eyes were turned away to give the girls the privacy in which to deal with the demons they held in their hearts. All except for Alex.