Melanie's Awakening

by Michael Cross

  Upon my return to the campground I was freezing. Even the trees were violently swaying in the gusts of wind and provided only partial blockage of the chill. I walked to the tent and entered. Nicole was awake, wrapped up in her bag except for her head. She asked, “Well, Melanie, I heard the rain and hoped you did not go and drown on me.” I was shaking too hard to respond, and then Nicole ordered, “Hurry, get out of those clothes now before you die of hypothermia!” I undressed and, just as I had removed everything I had on she asked me to crawl in with her and warm up.

  I did not flinch at getting in with Nicole, even when I discovered she had nothing on either. She screamed a bit as I clutched onto her for warmth. Perhaps the months with Sara had reduced my modesty in regards to physical contact a bit, or the fact that Nicole and I had been together before, but I felt no reluctance being there with her.

  After a while my shaking stopped and Nicole shifted her body around so that she rested her head on my chest. She laughed and said, “I think we will probably be eating potato chips and drinking cola for breakfast. The rain shows no sign of stopping.” I whispered back, “I had no idea it was going to rain and spoil our day.” She sighed, and looked up at me, “Ah yes, the same Melanie…no imagination. You have heard that ‘when life gives you lemons’ thing, haven’t you?” I smiled and noticed the way she was just looking at me. She giggled, “Oh really Melanie!” She then pulled herself closer to me and kissed my neck. I tilted my head back and she continued her way up until I turned to her and our lips met. I relaxed as she gently cuddled me and sighed as we re-connected with each other physically. It was an awesome feeling, different than when you kiss someone for the first time in a relationship and do not know what to expect! Almost everyone gets that feeling at least once in their lives but fewer people get to experience a re-awakened relationship. I knew her from the past, but I still did not totally know what to expect then. The only words I uttered to her were, “Okay, let’s make sure we keep the noise level down, I don’t want the people next to us to wake up and have to explain what is going on in our tent.” Nicole nibbled on my earlobe and whispered, “See? That is another good reason not to have kids.”

  The rest of the morning was fantastic, yet the tent was far from comfortable. Rain did not penetrate the walls but water condensed and dripped down on us. It was somewhat strange to hear cars arriving or leaving, and people calling to one another – in a way it made our time together more taboo, and more stimulating! After a while we relaxed in each other’s arms. I decided to take the initiative, “So Nicole, you know, we already are living together and I am open to giving it another try if you are.” Nicole tried to prop herself up in the bag but with little success. She replied, “You want me back? Melanie, I am speechless! Anything you say I will do this time – I am totally yours.”

  The rain stopped that afternoon. The next couple of days we did not talk about Sinclair, Daniel, or school – and I totally avoided the topic of children. It was a time to be carefree and enjoy our time together. I had thought I had lost a friend forever, but then I had her back…back in every respect. I wondered though, had Sara come into the picture to get me ready for this juncture in my life? I think at that moment I saw Sara in the context of helping me transform both my outlook on life and seriously consider new possibilities. Yet I still was not entirely sure a life with Nicole was my true destiny – maybe it would be Sara after all. I wondered if my mom was seeing this drama unfold at that moment and saying, “Told you so Melanie!”

  Chapter 8

  After arriving back from our trip, I ran upstairs and checked on my mother’s old room. Nicole joined me and I asked if she had any ideas of how we could alter it into our image and use it as our own from then on. We decided to do some major shopping the next day to find things to create our “dream room.”

  Whilst we were writing our list of things to buy I suggested we not forget a few other items for our little project with Mr. Sinclair. These would include rope, six locks and super glue. I asked if Nicole still had the medical stuff that Daniel had used years earlier and she did – she had secretly stashed them away even though Daniel had asked her to throw them out. We were not sure how effective they would be after all these years but we were quite confident they would work. Nicole also said she had a surprise for me – she went out to the garage and brought in a box which contained not only her old 9mm hand gun but also one almost identical to it – it seems she had bought it for Daniel as a present for his 22nd birthday. Not only that, but underneath some paper in the box were two silencers – Nicole bragged she had made both herself.

  Nicole and I went out to buy the all the items we needed, for decoration of the house and for our little experiment. It would be cash only for everything, especially for the things we needed for Sinclair, so nothing could be tracked back to us. Nicole surprised me with her old-fashioned tastes – she liked a more traditional way of decorating a room while I was more modern, but I let her have her way – I could live with her Victorian-style preferences.

  When we got home it was time to make the changes. It seemed the last month for me was one consumed with packing and moving, but it was fun working with her. We concentrated on our bedroom – we packed my mother’s things and stored them in the basement, we put up new drapes, installed decorative lamps and arranged the furniture to our liking. She looked at the wallpaper and asked, “So, how shall we change this later?” I did not really care so I merely shrugged my shoulders and said we could look into that later. She then suggested we begin work on the living room. It seemed Nicole was coming up with two ideas for every one task we finished! We were getting hungry, so I called to order some Chinese food. At that point we both collapsed on the bed and held each other while we waited for our meal to be delivered. I came up with an idea for catching Sinclair, but Nicole interrupted me and asked if our bedroom could be free of any discussion of school, work or killings. I suppose she had a point that this could be a special place, a shelter from the world.

  While we were eating dinner I asked Nicole if maybe we could stake out Sinclair’s home. She asked if I had all the information and I said it was relatively easy to find out everything on the internet. She said she was too tired at the moment but that maybe we could start the next evening to see what his habits were. I suggested that maybe we should be clear on what our goals were, and have everything ready just in case an opportunity presented itself.

  We had no real expectation the next day of finding out all we wanted, but we still were ready with everything – we lined the trunk of my car with plastic, loaded the materials necessary to carry out the plan and rehearsed several scenarios for abducting Bernie. That evening we drove into his neighborhood, a working class area on the fringes of Portland, and altered the license plate with some black tape as a precaution. We parked the car and waited in front of his place, a large house which had a sign stating “rooms for rent.” We waited and waited for someone that looked like the man in the picture, but nothing – until around 9pm. Then a guy opened the front door and lit a cigarette. He strolled out to the street and began to walk to the corner.

  We looked at one another and I asked, “Nicole, you up to this, just in case?” She said, “Without a doubt!” and we slowly drove up to Mr. Sinclair. Nicole opened a wine cooler and dropped a couple of tablets in just before we caught up to him. As I drove up to the curb I anxiously demanded, “Jump into the back seat, quick!” She complied without question as we parked next to him. She rolled her window down and asked, “Hey, dude, you know where there is any fun nightclub around here? We are new to Portland.” He approached the car – yes, it was him, medium height, thin, slightly balding with long, curly brown hair. We had our guy coming straight for us. My heart stopped in anticipation – this was so fast, but this could be it! He leaned on our car and Nicole went into her flirtation mode, “So can you help us?” her voice was almost childlike, yet laced with seductiveness. He responded, “You know girls, it depends on what you are looking for
, I know of a few places.” Nicole answered, “I’ll bet you do.”

  Sinclair then showed his low level of sophistication as he suggested, “I’ll bet you chicks would love the gentleman’s club I go to. It has great food, cheap drinks and women have both free entrance and discounts on all the drinks!” Nicole laughed, “Yeah, but what, we would have to take our clothes off to get the discount?” He shook his head and said, “You can keep your clothes on unless you want to compete on amateur night.” Nicole asked, “You really think we could qualify?” He enthusiastically replied, “Absolutely!”

  Nicole then asked “I would like to go there with you, but can you get in and show us a few other fun spots first?” He hopped into the back seat with Nicole without hesitation. He introduced himself as Bernie while Nicole introduced herself as “Candy” and me as “Svetlana.” Nicole joked that I was Russian so I did not talk much. I tried to fake a Russian accent and apparently he bought it. We started driving towards the freeway and Nicole asked me to pass the wine coolers back. Nicole giggled and commented, “Be careful Bernie, Svetlana does not have a valid driver’s license so we don’t want some cop pulling us over for having alcohol in the car.”

  I started thinking we were totally blessed. Everything was working incredibly well – we had picked him up after only investing a couple of hours of time scoping him out. Then the unexpected happened, he stated, “You know, I am not so much into drinking right now, maybe later.” Nicole then said, “Oh come on Bernie!” She moved closer to him and started playing with his hair and said, “In Svetlana’s country it is considered totally impolite for a man to refuse a drink from a girl at the beginning of the evening. It sort of jinxes the uh…infinite possibilities.” At that he said, “Yeah, what the hell!” and held up the bottle Nicole had given him, “Here’s to infinite possibilities!”

  Sinclair drank the beverage almost as fast as Daniel had downed the whisky just two weeks earlier. Nicole and I were unsure if the knockout pills that had worked so well back in high school would do the trick. She had upped the dose for Sinclair but when he did not pass out immediately I contemplated the simplicity of my plan b, which was to take him to some remote area with the promise of sex and then just shoot him. Nicole began to unbutton her shirt and said if he could promise not to grab anything he would have a most unforgettable experience. He sat back, hoping for a kinky show, but instead he made a most strange facial expression and then his eyes closed and his head drooped over his lap. We let him sway from side to side for a few minutes before Nicole leaned him back in his seat and checked him for life. Yes, he was alive.

  As we drove outside the Portland city limits I asked Nicole to check his legs for any child predator anklets, as well as look in his wallet just to make sure we got the right guy. No trackers and yes, we had the right guy; we even had his parole officer’s card. We decided we would leave him passed out and administer another pill into his throat in about an hour to make sure he was essentially comatose – little did he know that our drugging would be an act of mercy, for a while at least.

  I drove for about an hour and a half before Nicole motioned for me to turn off the main road. I asked if she was sure and she replied, “Look Melanie, I have a photographic memory for such things. Besides, I remember the sign for a youth camp that we passed just a mile back. Trust me.” We drove for maybe an additional twenty minutes before she said to turn off on what appeared to be an old logging road. After another twenty minutes going uphill on this old, dusty road she said we were there. I pulled over and parked the car. When I got out I was amazed! This really was the right place. It was as if nothing had changed. I could even make out my special tree.

  Nicole checked to made sure he was still unconscious. He was totally limp and unresponsive so we concluded there was no need for further medication. We acted fast to remove him from the car, undress him, and fasten the restraints on his legs and arms. Once we were completed I took out the super glue and smeared it across his mouth. He was still so passed out he did not even seem to notice. Then I poured it on his hands and Nicole held the skin tight to make sure they were totally useless to him once he awoke. The next steps were the tough part. We turned off all lights just to make sure we were alone. Nicole grabbed me around the waist and started to shake. I asked what was wrong and she said she was embarrassed to admit she was afraid of the dark. She begged me to stay close to her. We stood close to each other for a moment, just listening to make absolutely sure we were alone. There was no sound except for a calm breeze blowing through the trees and a screech in the distance. When Nicole heard what was probably an owl she tightened her hold on my waist. I responded by clutching her head and moving in for a kiss. We stood there in a passionate embrace for a few moments before I let her go and asked, “Remember the first time we kissed?” She laughed, “After killing the pimp! How could I forget?” I asked, “Did you know I wanted to do more in the hotel room? If Mark had not called maybe I would have surprised you when you were done showering.” She laughed, “I wish he had overslept that morning!”

  Confident that we were the only three humans up there, we dragged Sinclair to the tree I had killed the bully so long ago. Sure enough there was still a sturdy branch about seven feet above the ground. We ran back to the car, grabbed the instruments and returned to start the process. I suppose I was curious as to if this was going to work or not. We removed all our clothing and placed our things far enough away to avoid any blood stains. At least this evening was warm, unlike the first time I had been up there, so it felt comfortable; especially when having to work up a sweat with the preparations. I pinched the skin on his upper back with my fingers and pierced the knife through the flap. His breathing increased and he started an unconscious struggle, but I was still able to slide the first lock through the skin and fasten it. I repeated this procedure five more times, with success even though he seemed to be reacting more deliberately to the last two incisions on the back of his legs. I stood up and asked Nicole to shine the flashlight on his body – he was lying face down and had locks above both his shoulders, two on his lower back and one on the back of each of his thighs.

  We were almost done now. We ran the thin ropes through the locks, threw the rope ends over the branch, and then strung them to the back of the car. I started the engine and drove forward for just a few feet and stopped. I ran back to Nicole and we gazed upon Sinclair as he swung back and forth suspended in mid air. We only had to wait a few moments before his eyes finally flew open.

  I shone the flashlight on his face. I recognized the look. I had seen it before, that look of terror, pain and bewilderment. Even with the drugs pulsating through his body he must have been able to start contemplating the seriousness of his situation. The dimmed light from my flashlight even added to the intensity of the moment as he seemed to be regaining consciousness rapidly.

  Nicole handed me the bag and I retrieved some salt I had placed there. I poured it onto the wounds I had inflicted, and of course it had the desired effect – strong contractions and a very much aware subject. His attempts at screaming were muffled since he could not open his lips. He seemed to in a state of pain and utter confusion. I grasped his hair and pulled his head up to face me – he was then only several inches from me when I asked, “Are you wondering why you are here? Yes, you are, aren’t you?” He just stared and frantically tried to breathe through his nose. I asked, “I know this must seem really strange – are you scared?” He just looked at me with his eyes wide open and continued making some muffled attempt at screaming. I shook my head and sighed, “Come on now... tell me, do you feel helpless? Maybe like a little child would feel each night, alone and shaking her bed and wondering what sort of beating she was going to get – wondering why she deserved to be abused by someone who she must be thinking cared for her?”

  It still did not seem to be getting through to him. So I took out a little toy: Daniel’s old taser. I asked, “Need a bit more incentive to cooperate with me?” I then zapped him on his arm �
�� which at least caused him to start nodding his head and making noises that sounded like “Okay, yes, yes!” When he made these motions I took notice of his hands – bound and glued in front of him. It looked both pitiful and amusing since it gave the appearance that he was praying to Nicole and me – apparently to stop what was happening to him. Alas, his prayers to us, his temporary “goddesses,” would be in vain.

  Now that I had his attention I decided to toy with him a bit more. I taunted him, “Wow, nobody here to save you, is there? I guess there will be no knight in shining armour to come to your rescue, no cavalry rushing to your salvation, just the three of us here deep in nature. Maybe this is the first time you wished there were a cop around, huh?” He then gave me an angry look. I laughed, “How rude!” I decided he needed to learn some respect. I zapped him above one of the locks secured on his lower back and noticed a little spark between the metal of the lock. I asked Nicole to watch as I turned off the flashlight and re-administered the treatment. Sure enough a spark appeared like one of those static machines they used to use as a prop in old science fiction movies. I tried it out a few more times before asking the subject how he felt. By now he was shaking and putting all his efforts at getting out of his predicament. I pulled his head up again by the hair and looked him straight in the eyes and said, “Your struggles are futile in case you aren’t aware of that by now!” I then administered the taser for a longer duration, which actually seemed to cause his body to levitate in a stiffened fashion. Nicole leaned over me and asked, “Is this what they call electroshock therapy?” We laughed, as his screams of agony turned into whimpering. I replied, “You might say that, but they never taught me this technique in college!”