FoA S2 Chapter 12

The new van is red, and it’s not new. It’s a sad, bucket of rust. You help Vicky get it loaded up, then you help roll her bike up a ramp and into the back as well. Since you’re giving up the van, you’ll need a way to ride back. You’re just sorry it’s her bike and not yours; wouldn’t mind riding back with her behind you.

Once it’s ready, you get in and wait. It’s a hot day, and you run the AC on high. Vicky pops a soda open and looks out the window suspiciously.

“Maybe we should wait somewhere else,” you suggest. “If Stark rolls up on us, this is bad.”

“We can’t lose this again, Adella. If Stark rolls up, we’ll work something out,” Vicky says, watching the mirrors. “We’re lucky that Minnie’s even taking it.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t have restrictions in her county yet. She has to sit on them. She’ll probably end up selling them back to us at a markup in a few weeks.”

“I’ll let you guys worry about the business,” you say. You have enough personal stuff to worry about. “Hey, you ever hook up with anyone in the club?”

Vicky gives you a funny look, but her smile doesn’t go away. “Is that an offer?”

“It’s a serious question.”

“Oh,” she says, grinning. “OK, Miss Serious. It’s been known to happen. Probably not as much as you think, though,” she adds. “You watched that sex tape and now you want some of that brown sugar. That’s what’s going on here.”

You laugh. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“I want some too,” she says, unwrapping a piece of candy. “She put in some work. Pretty girl, too.”

“Nina?” You nod agreement. “I hope she doesn’t find out what we did.”

“Me too,” Vicky says soberly. Then she perks up again. “Just tell Caroline you like what you saw. She’ll like that.”

You poke her with your elbow. “We could both tell her.”

“Oh, spicy.” She turns and looks you up and down. “OK, Prospect. It’s a date.”

“Not a prospect anymore,” you remind her.

“Right. You’re a big girl now.” She takes a swig of soda, then glances at your crotch. “At least down there.”

“At least I don’t have to haul those milk jugs around,” you say, reaching out with a finger to prod her boobs. She blocks your hand, and her phone beeps.

“Here we go,” she says, grabbing it. “Stark’s at the university. We can hit the road.”

“Perfect.”

Vicky starts the engine, and you give her the directions that Fang sent to your phone. You don’t come out this way much, but the swamps and forests are full of narrow, winding roads. It would be a nice drive in a nicer vehicle.

“Do you know the Sun Girls well?” you ask Vicky, who keeps her eyes on the road.

“I only met them once. It wasn’t Minnie, it was another girl. She was all over me,” Vicky says with a smile. “Wanted a boob job.”

“Did she get one?”

“Not before I got what I wanted.”

It’s hard not to admire Vicky’s confidence, but it’s probably easy to be confident when you’re a blonde with big breasts and zero inhibitions.

“So we’re cool with them,” you say.

“I know there were problems in the past,” Vicky tells you. “But if they agreed to do this, I guess we’re over it.”

“I hope so,” you say as something comes into view ahead.

There’s a car in the middle of the road, blocking it. The hood is up, and someone’s there, poking around inside.

Vicky frowns and slows to a stop. “Think I can get around there?”

The road’s pretty narrow, and this is a swamp. The ground is soft. Going off the pavement is dangerous.

“Better not,” you say.

“Yeah,” Vicky replies.

It’s like the woman with the car didn’t even hear you coming. Maybe she has earbuds in. She’s bent at the waist, her peachy rear end in shorts pointed straight at you.

“Guess we better help her,” you say.

“Yeah, right,” Vicky says darkly.

“Whoa!” you say when you see what she’s doing. Vicky takes a gun out of her vest and checks the chamber.

“Stay here,” she mutters, glancing at the mirrors, then opening the door.

What the hell? You sit and watch as she steps out of the van and calls out to the woman. She doesn’t point her gun, but she’s holding it at the ready. What is she thinking? The woman looks back, then turns around and raises her hands.

“Oh, shit,” you mutter. You couldn’t recognize her from just her backside, but you know that face. Ingrid isn’t wearing her dark makeup or clothes, just shorts and a crop top that shows off perfect, pale skin, and plenty of cleavage.

But Ingrid doesn’t drive a car, she rides a bike.

“Vicky!” you shout, grabbing your door handle, only for the door to be jerked open. You are dragged out of the van and thrown to the pavement. “Ow, fuck!”

Vicky has her own problems: the two women who just came out of hiding and have guns on her. There’s Ingrid and three others.

The others wear the black clothes and heavy makeup of Dark Dames, and they all have guns. The one standing over you has hers pointed at your face. You show your hands as you lie on your back on the hot asphalt.

Vicky is outnumbered. She isn’t going to start a shootout one against four. You didn’t even bring a gun.

You look past the bikers in black at Ingrid, who leans on the car, watching with a neutral expression.

“Put it down,” one of the Dark Dames orders Vicky, who rolls her eyes and puts her pistol on the ground and steps back from it.

One of the girls walks up to Vicky and pats her pockets.

“Keys are in it?” she asks.

“Yup,” Vicky replies tightly, shaking with anger.

One of the others opens the back of the van.

“Got a bike in here,” she reports.

“What about the stuff?” another asks. That’s the leader: she has a black star tattoo on her cheek. She’s tall, thin, and lighting a cigarette while the others keep you and Vicky covered. Ingrid just keeps watching.

“It’s here.”

“OK.” The leader takes a drag on her cigarette, then bends to pick up Vicky’s pistol. It’s a nickel-plated Beretta.

“You should think twice about this,” Vicky says.

The girl standing over you motions for you to stand up. You do so, keeping your hands in view.

“You think you should be giving advice?” the leader asks Vicky with a smirk.

“I’m not the one wearing all black in summer,” Vicky retorts.

“It is hot, isn’t it?”

“No shit,” Vicky replies. You two have been out of the van for less than a minute and you’re already sweating, although that might have to do with having guns pointed at you.

“You’ll be cooler without your clothes on. Take them off,” the leader orders.

“If you want to get laid, you don’t have to fake a hijacking. You could just come to the bar,” Vicky says, and the leader punches her hard in the gut. Vicky doubles over with a groan.

There’s nothing you can do.

“You better be smarter than her,” the leader says, gesturing at you with her cigarette.

Teeth grinding, you take off your vest and drop it on the ground.

“Don’t stop there,” the leader tells you, grabbing Vicky’s hair and jerking her back to her feet. “Hurry up, bimbo.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vicky grumbles, pulling free and taking off her own vest. “Keep your shirt on.”

“I will,” the leader says with a smile.

The sun beats down on you and Vicky as you strip. You stop when you get to your underwear, but the girl next to you prods you with her gun.

Shaking with anger, you take those off too.

Vicki stands beside you, all her tan lines and tattoos on display. You can’t be distracted by nudity, though.

Ingrid is looking at her phone, not at the two of you.

“OK,” the leader says, watching her girls pick up your clothes. Her eyes linger on Vicky’s penis. “Aren’t you going to make excuses? That it’s cold out?” she asks.

Vicky blows her a kiss.

“Can I at least have my phone?” you ask.

“How rude of us,” the leader says, taking it from your pile of clothes. She tosses it at you, and it clatters to the asphalt. You reach for it, only to jump at the sudden bang of a gunshot, which echoes through the swamp.

You pick up your phone, which now has a hole through it.

The Dark Dames leader puts her pistol away and walks toward the car, where Ingrid opens the door for her. The leader climbs in, and Ingrid gets behind the wheel.

The others climb into the van. You and Vicky get out of the way as they start it up and go. Together, you watch the van follow the car around the bend, and listen to the sounds of the engines fading.

You clutch your ruined phone so hard that it’s a good thing that it’s already broken.

Then they’re gone and it’s just you and Vicky, standing by the side of the road, stark naked. No working phone, no clothes, no money. You drove for an hour to get here, and you took so many turns that you have no idea how to get back.

[ End of Season 2 ]