Aurelia Rowl - Popping The Cherry

‘It’s fine …’ Pete took one hand off the wheel and stopped looking at the road altogether. I bit back a whimper and tightened my grip on the handle. Pete fumbled around for something, I didn’t know what, unable to tear my gaze off the road whizzing by. Half of a rollup cigarette appeared in front of my nose, the smell telling me there was more than tobacco in there. ‘Here, get a light on this and have a few drags. It’ll help you relax.’

‘Like hell it will.’ I slapped his hand away. Manners weren’t working, time to try a different approach. ‘I said stop the van, Pete. I want to get out. Now.’

‘Fine.’ He slammed on the brakes and brought us to a screeching halt.

I didn’t even have time to react, let alone get into a brace position, but the seatbelt did its job. For a nanosecond, I hadn’t been sure and visions of flying through the windscreen were all too vivid. Curses fired at Pete from the rear as equipment crashed and rolled around the floor. I almost felt sorry for the stoned idiots in the back. Not enough to make me stick around, though. All fingers and thumbs, I fought with the seatbelt, struggling to get free.

Pete banged his knuckles against the metal divide and shouted, ‘Hayden, your lady is leaving. Are you staying or going?’

‘He’s staying,’ I muttered, before Hayden had a chance to answer. The seatbelt finally released me and I wrenched on the handle to open the door. Ignoring the step, I leaped straight down on the road.

Freedom .

Pete revved the engine and made the wheels spin, presumably trying to goad me, but I refused to make eye contact. I turned back just long enough to slam the door shut on the heap of junk, then ran to the side of the road. He peeled away, earning more disgruntled shouts. From the sanctuary of the grass verge, I watched the red tail lights race around the next bend before disappearing, leaving only silence and blackness in its wake.

Pitched into total darkness, I had to wait for my eyes to adjust. I turned in a circle, my chest tightening with each breath. Nothing was familiar. There were no landmarks, no signposts, not one thing to give me a clue to my location. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a dead phone.

Omigod, what have I done?

Giving up and sinking to the kerb would have been easy—understandable, given the circumstances—but I forced myself to move, to put one foot in front of the other, and followed the road in the direction the van had taken. The silence wasn’t so silent after all. Leaves rustled in the trees overhead, nocturnal creatures scurried in the undergrowth, and I kept hearing a weird squeaking sound, which turned out to be bats flying above me in the starless sky.

Time didn’t mean anything to me—without my phone, I was useless—so I counted paces instead. I didn’t know how true it was, but I’d once read a thing about the Roman Empire and how the army used to count each time the left foot hit the ground. Why it stuck in my mind was anyone’s guess. Since I’d started counting, I’d walked over four thousand steps, so, going by Roman army theory, I’d already walked over two miles. An orange haze glowed some way ahead, spurring me on, and, after a further fifteen hundred steps, the sounds of nature slowly faded away, replaced by faint traffic sounds.

Another two thousand steps—another mile—and I came to a junction but with no road signs to guide me. The new road had street lamps at least, which had to mean civilisation—eventually—but which way to turn? Left or right? I stood on the corner of the junction and I stared in each direction, finally convincing myself that the glow seemed stronger coming from the left. Setting off again, I’d walked only another five hundred and twenty-seven steps when I spotted a bus stop glinting in the distance.

Yes!

Unfortunately, it wasn’t like the modern ones I was used to, with the digital board telling you the time and when the next bus was due. There was a timetable on the wall, though. And that meant I could study the route and finally work out where I was and try to figure out a way home. A car sped past, the first one I’d heard for ages, but I didn’t think anything of it until car doors banged and I realised the car had stopped a little further up the road.

Footsteps drew nearer—two sets of footsteps, in fact—so I shot a look over my shoulder. The street lights cast a dim orange glow, offering just enough light for me to see two men approaching the bus shelter. My body recognised the threat before my eyes had even focused properly. They were slowing down, looking right at me rather than ignoring me, so I turned my attention back to the timetable, hoping they’d get the message and keep walking.

‘Hey, gorgeous,’ one of them said, his voice slurred. ‘What are you doing here all by yourself? You know it’s not safe for a good looking girl like you, you never know what might happen.’

His partner in crime laughed, and not in a friendly way. The sound made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and stand on end.

Shit!

Every instinct screamed at me to get the hell out of there.

A sudden surge of adrenaline raced through my veins, making my heart beat frantically inside my chest. I couldn’t stay in my Perspex prison. That would be way too dumb. I was like a sitting duck—except that I was standing, not sitting—and, according to the timetable, the next bus might not be along until morning. Keeping my head held high, I thrust my shoulders back and started walking, continuing down the road. I’d have to find a phone box, or a taxi, or flag someone down maybe.

Typical .

The only time I needed a road to be busy, there wasn’t a car in sight. I decided to cross over, just in case I was being silly and letting my overactive imagination run away with me. No such luck: the two men crossed the road behind me as well. Well, I hoped Hayden and the rest of Screwed felt bad when they read the news reports in the morning about the girl they’d abandoned at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere who got attacked and …

Screwed.

I swallowed.

No, I couldn’t think like that. I needed to stay calm, think clearly. Focus.

Breathe …

I can do this .

As a kid, I’d had big dreams of representing Great Britain in the Olympics, but not as a long-distance runner. My cross-country coach had a right go at me once for not trying hard enough, but I hated it—and him, to be honest—as it just wasn’t for me, not by a long shot. I didn’t have the stamina for it and my lungs always felt as if they were about to explode, which all pointed to my having to conserve my energy now, to try to outsmart these two goons rather than leg it and run out of steam.

I picked up my pace instead but, judging by the footsteps, the men had sped up, too. Damn it, I hadn’t even got a good look at their faces, but it was no good turning around now. My breath formed clouds in front of my face as my feet pounded the pavement.

Think, Lena. Think .

The bus timetable had imprinted itself in my brain, so I worked back from the stop I recognised. Finally, I had a good idea where I was, and if I was right, and if I remembered rightly, there was a small shopping precinct somewhere along this road. It couldn’t be too much further away, either, maybe another quarter of a mile or so, and I was pretty sure one of the shops was an Indian takeaway. On a Friday night, surely they would be open late. All I had to do was get there, and then, hopefully, they’d let me use their phone, and everything would be fine.

Ha! Yeah right … nothing to it .

I crossed the road again, putting me on the right side of the road for the shops, and again the goons followed. There was no way it could be a coincidence, no chance at all. They were after me. While I’ll never be a long-distance runner, I’d always been pretty good over short distances, especially sprints. I used to be able to outsprint half of the boys at school, and I got picked to represent the county one year. The two goons didn’t seem to be gaining on me—yet—so, with the element of surprise, I could maybe get enough of a head start to reach the Indian before they caught up with me.