The Summer of Last Resort

by J. A. Browning

  Keith took us home and Sarah and I were silently making daggers at each other’s eyes as to who he would drop off first, but then she relented and let him drop me off first. After she’d left, he started driving towards my house, but then he missed the turn-off from the highway. “You missed it,” I told him.

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “You know.”

  My self-doubt got he best of me and I looked down at my body, not strong and sexy like Sarah or cute like Kim, but just blah. “You don’t have to do this for me, Keith..”

  “But I want to.”

  “What about.... what about Kim?”

  “You didn’t seem to be to worried about that a little while ago.”

  We sat in silence as he drove into the night.

  “It’s late. You should take me home.”

  So he did. DAMMIT!! why don’t I have the courage to take what I want? He was right there for me. I couldn’t look at him as he drove me home, but then I noticed he had put his arm around me and was pulling me close. I tried to turn from him, to not look at him, but his arms were so gentle and warm, I couldn’t help it.

  As we approached my house, I realized that it was about 3am, and how I would be getting a big lecture from my mom the next morning if she knew. I made Keith stop down the street and told him that’s close enough and he pulled over and shut the car off.

  “Wow, that was some night,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well... I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” I said and climbed out of the car and into the cool night air. It was like a cleansing blast of freshness after all that had happened. The stars were twinkling brightly overhead and I wrapped my jacket close to me and started towards my back yard.

  “Wait!” Keith called from behind, after I had taken a few paces. “I have something for you.” I stopped in my tracks and he came up and pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “Read it.... just - read it.”

  I unfolded the note and I could see that it was a letter he’d written to me. It was too dark right there.

  “Read it at home,” he repeated, and turned to walk back to his car..

  “Please, let me read it now,” I begged. “Tonight was... too much. Please , Keith, I have to know. It has to be now.” And with that I took his hand in mine and walked him back towards my back yard, where there was a light in the back alley that stayed on all night. He wanted to leave, but I was at least firm there. It read:

  Dearest Maria,

  You might have been wondering what is happening with me lately. I know I may not have seemed like the best of friends and maybe I have done some things that you think are bad. Trust me, I think they are bad. I am ashamed sometimes at the things I do. When you called me to come and fix your tire, I was hoping to see you alone, and when you touched me I felt fire running through my body. I’ve never felt anything like that with anyone else. I get all shakey and nervous when you are around, Maria, my sweetest tender flower.

  But you have to know that I have been seeing Kim for a while now, and I know that telling you might hurt you badly. That is the last thing I wanted ever to happen to you of all people, you who are the best and most loving and gentle of us.

  I have gotten involved in something that has become now way over my head, and some people who I don’t know for sure are really the best for me. I have to warn you that I am a danger to you Maria. I still have to do bad things, and be with bad people. Things you CANT know about. For your sake, Know that I love you now and I’ve always loved you but you should forget me and remember me only as a good memory of childhood.

  Run far away Maria, my sweetest love, because I am a fire that will consume everything that comes near me!

  - Love always,

  Keith.

  I was crying by the time I finished his letter. I still didn’t understand it, but somehow everything in it rang true.

  He took me in his warm, strong arms and hushed me and I looked into his eyes. I asked him if he was still going to see Kim, and he said yes. I asked him if he was going to sleep with her, and he said yes. I asked why. He said, it’s what I do.

  “I’m bad and so is she, “ he said, “but you’re good, Maria. We’re no good for you. And we’re, well, I’d better not say.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No. She’s a friend.”

  “Like me?”

  “Not like you.”

  “Why? Why are you torturing me like this,” I cried, and wadded up the letter. I turned to go and then he grabbed my arms and pulled me close , and then our eyes met and I saw the desire burning in his eyes - a flame of passion I’d never seen before, never in any man, and we kissed deeply, passionately, and lovingly. Our mouths consumed each other, eager with pent-up longing and emotion. I felt tears streaming down my face as he kissed my neck and I pulled his big strong body close to mine.

  I gave myself to him there in the early morning dawn of a new summer day, on a blanket that I knew was stashed in the old car in the back alley. I took every piece of clothing I had off so that he could be the first man to have me all, every inch of me, and when he entered me it felt so right, so good, and he was so hard and hot. He came quickly deep within me and then I orgasmed on him, but he didn’t get very soft. He did have a special gift, that man! Quickly he hardened again and then I climbed on him and soon I was there again, on the peak of the mountain where he had carried me, with rays of sunlight shining from every inch of my body as I exploded onto him, triggering yet another gusher from his mighty fountain, and then we collapsed together, spent, as the first rays of sunlight began to peek down onto our bare flesh. Finally I kissed him and told him that I loved him. “I love you too, “ he said, “but don’t forget the letter.”

  Act IV - Finale

  Once the car started Sandy was able to see a little in the dim light from the tail lights. Her wrists and ankles ached where the plastic dug into her flesh, and her head throbbed from being hit by the butt of the gun.

  She tried to picture those men in her mind as clearly as possible, but it was no use. She tried to remember their shoes, their clothes, anything like that. Then she thought about how they might be able to track her down – her rental car, after all, would be at the gym, and that would be suspicious, and Jake, God, she wished she’d waited for him to come back before she flew off. What am I doing here? she thought to herself. I’m way in over my head. I should have left it to the FBI. Sandy, this was so stupid!

  Just then she felt the car pull off the road and bounce down a gravel road for a few minutes. She heard the doors open and then the footfalls of the men as they got out. Only two this time, and then she heard another vehicle drive up and someone else got out.

  The trunk opened and before she could say anything the big man pulled her out and held her in his arms. They were out in the desert, but she could see the lights of the city spread out below her. Jesus Christ, they’ve taken me out here to kill me, Sandy thought, and a cold terror gripped her soul. This was the same man who’d violated her with his meaty finger just an hour ago, but now he carried her carefully over to a waiting van.

  “Take that one back to the car rental place and make sure you do it before they get there in the morning – check that there’s no more inbound flights – and then drop the keys in the night drop.” It was the voice of the first man, clearly the leader of this group.

  Shit, Sandy thought, she’d been kidnapped in her own rental car. Now it would show up, back on schedule, and no one would be the wiser.

  The other vehicle was a van, and the doors in the back were now swung open. “Vans are so convenient for transporting things securely, don’t you agree?” the first man said slyly, and then he commanded, “Turn her over!” and Sandy felt the big man unceremoniously turning Sandy over in his arms. Suddenly she felt her dress being lifted up and her panties being pulled down as the big man sa
t on the back of the van and bent Sandy over this thick thigh.

  “I’ve been waiting all night to give this to you,” the first man said, and then Sandy felt the hot sting of a needle as it plunged deep into her buttock. “This will make your journey so much easier, Sandy. Good night and have a good trip.” And then Sandy felt the world swimming and she was being slid carefully on some blankets that were placed on the floor of the van.

  When she came to, Sandy smelled the stench of vomit and realized that it was hers. She was still dizzy, and then she felt a warm cloth washing her face, and then she had the sudden urge and rolled on her side and retched, but barely produced anything. Her head was throbbing and there was a loud buzzing which grew louder and louder as consciousness returned, and then she felt the big man’s hand in her mouth and she gagged and pulled her head back quickly.

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

  Sandy realized that he’d been keeping her from choking on her own vomit, and that this was actually pretty dangerous. She could have died. He had a deep voice, but she couldn’t quite place the accent. Southern? Maybe a little Caribbean?

  She looked down and saw that she was on some blankets which were in turn on a hard metal floor that was shaking and vibrating and moving, and that the big man was kneeling next to her. She was partly covered by blankets, but otherwise naked except for her panties and bra. It suddenly came to her that she was on an airplane, some sort of twin prop transport from the sound of it.

  The plane started its descent and the big man went and returned with an orange prison jumpsuit and indicated for her to put it on. As she stood, Sandy realized that she was in some sort of cargo plane, but there were some seats on the sides, and in the seats were a mixture of men with dark military-style fatigues, a couple people in camo, and, on the other side, a group of five or six other people in orange jumpsuits, mostly Hispanics. Sandy looked down and saw that they were in restraints, and then realized that she was, too.

  “What is this? Where are we going?” She asked the big man, but he just smiled and shook his head. “Just calm down little lady, and you’ll be okay.”

  “Hey, you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t belong here!” Sandy protested, but the soldiers just scowled at her. “Look, I’m a detective in Santa Fe. Whatever this is, it’s supposed to be someone else you’re after!”

  One of the soldiers stood up and walked over to Sandy. “You’re a cop, huh?” he said in a perfect Midwestern accent. “You think we like cops? I’ll show you what we think of cops!” and he pulled out a giant knife and held the blade against her cheek, but then the big man’s hand grabbed his wrist and slowly moved the blade away. “Sure you’re not a cop killer? Huh?” the soldier joked.

  The plane finally landed and Sandy heard the propellers spin to a stop when the plane was finally parked. The ramp at the tail of the airplane lowered and the prisoners were carefully marched out one at a time into the early morning light of a tropical dawn, somewhere in the jungle.

  Sandy observed carefully that each prisoner was being escorted by some armed men from the plane, and was met by soldiers in uniform. There seemed to be quite a bit of paperwork involved, but slowly each prisoner was removed. Sandy looked around and considered running, but which way, and where to? Before she could think, she was being hurried down the ramp, and the big man was behind her. She looked back and saw a couple men with a different type of prison jumpsuit get herded onto the plane. Prisoner exchange, Sandy thought. Was this a deal with the drug cartels?

  They boarded an old school bus that had been converted to carrying prisoners. The glass had been removed and bars welded across the windows. A steel grate separated the driver and guards in the front of the bus from their charges in the rear. Steel eyelets had been welded down onto the floor by each seat, and a steel cable was ran through a loop in the shackles around each prisoner’s ankles. The heat was stifling and Sandy wasn’t used to it. She was still sick from whatever tranquilizer they had used on her, and the ride was interminably long. When the eventually stopped so that the prisoners could relieve themselves, she was the only woman. It was disgusting, men chained together, squatting in the jungle to defecate, and then wiping their hands on their pants. The stench of fear, shit, mud, and diesel exhaust when they got back on the bus was overpowering.

  After three or four hours the bus again pulled to a stop. She heard the prisoners muttering to each other, and the bus driver and guards looked at each other nervously. They were still in the jungle, but there was apparently a checkpoint. Some sort of counter-revolutionaries, no doubt, Sandy thought. They’d be happy to rape me and then shoot up the bus and everyone on it.

  After a few minutes a small, armed woman in fatigues came onto the bus, was let through the grate, and strode briskly toward Sandy. She noticed that the other prisoners were now silent and focused on this stranger. “Come with me,” she said in a thickly accented English. Sandy couldn’t help but notice the silver cross she wore, but that’s probably not unusual here, she thought to herself, then realized that thoughts like that came to her instinctively, which is why being a detective was her natural role in the order of things.

  Once they were off the bus, the short woman waved the bus down the road with her gun, and then Sandy was then placed in the back of a jeep that was on the side of the road, and then the prison bus drove off, leaving the two of them alone in the jungle. Captor and captive sat in the jeep in silence for a few minutes until the sound of the prison bus faded into the gentle cacophony of a tropical jungle in the daytime.

  “You don’t know where you are, do you.”

  Sandy shook her head.

  “Well, you’re in the shit, that’s for sure,” the woman said, and drove off down the road in the other direction.

  “Preacher says you’re a sinner, that’s for sure. But God brought you here, to us,” the woman said, sounding a lot more like a missionary than a mercenary.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m a soldier. A soldier of God. That’s why we wear these when we go out in the world,” she shouted over the din of the jeep. We’re his stratoi, the soldiers of heaven.

  Sandy looked at her like she was crazy.

  “You know, the heavenly host, in the Bible. The heavenly host gathers, sings, appears to the shepherds, bla bla bla. But the word host is really the word for army. The army of heaven.”

  “I thought those were the angels,” Sandy said.

  “We’ll all be angels soon enough,” the woman said, smiling, and pointing at the H&K assault rifle at her feet. “That’s my name. You can call me angel... Angelica, she said, emphasizing the Spanish pronunciation.

  Suddenly she swung the Jeep off the main road and they bounded down what looked like a goat path, branches and foliage whipping at the windshield. Then, at a fork in the road, there was another Jeep blocking the road, but it moved and waved them past. Still downward they bounced, until finally the bush cleared and in front of them was a magnificent villa perched on the edge of a cliff. The ocean stretched out ahead of them, sparking in its tropical aquamarine splendor. The villa itself was built in many complex layers, like some sort of exotic ruins, but she could make out windows, doors, and roofs all carefully fitted amongst the fine stonework.

  A small entourage of robe-clad young men and women came out to greet them as the jeep pulled up. Amongst them were a few heavily armed women who held back watchfully.

  “Blessings on your safe return, sister,” the most elderly

  man of the group said to the woman driving the jeep. He was clad like some sort of cult hippie in an orange and yellow tie-dye robe. She smiled at him and motioned Sandy out of the jeep. The leader looked up at someone in the distance, and then turned to Sandy and said, “There’s someone who’ll want to see you.” Sandy could sense tension between the man and Angelica, but just then an older lady in hippie robes appeared out of the group and took Sandy by the arm. “She’ll be there in time, brother,” she said to the leader. “Loo
k how long it’s taken her to come to us.” She turned and looked at Sandy and brushed a leaf from Sandy’s hair. “Why, it’s taken her a whole lifetime.”

  Sandy and the old woman walked away from the crowd, and the leader yelled “Make sure you don’t forget!” to her back.

  “I’m very confused,” Sandy said. “Look, I’ve got to make a call. Is there a phone or something that I can use?”

  “Oh, no, dear. Why would you want that?”

  “Well, to let… to let my family know I’m safe.”

  “Hmm… so how do you know you are safe?” the woman said sagaciously, and then continued. “Look, look at yourself. When you came here, you were a condemned woman. You would have died in the jungle, or in prison, or been shot down in the life you came from. But the preacher chose you to save. He saved you.”

  “I think he had me confused with someone else.”

  “They all think that. Otherwise, they wouldn’t need saving.”

  “So, who is this preacher?”

  “Oh, he’s just a man. But a brilliant man – he built all

  this,” she said, gesturing. “And,” she whispered, “He has some very rich friends.” She gestured at a group of buildings set slightly higher than the others, and more opulent. “But between us, I don’t think they get it. He’s just using them for their money!”

  As they wound their way down through the complex, she noticed a large motor yacht resting at anchor in the bay, its white superstructure gleaming in the tropical sun.