Heller

by JD Nixon

  I suggested to them that kidnapping polygamous wives and trying to deprogram them probably wasn’t the way to garner support and that instead perhaps they should hit the media, polygamy being such a hot topic at the moment with the Pastor’s visit. They promised to think about it. Then to be fair, I said, “Look, have you even asked the wives if they want to leave? They are adults, you know. It’s a weird situation and makes me uncomfortable, but they don’t seem unhappy to me. They seem to really enjoy each other’s company.” And that made them think even harder.

  I had taken the last few sips of my tea and placed the cup gently back on the saucer when Heller’s Mercedes screeched up the driveway at a dangerous speed for the night-time road conditions, skidding to a sudden stop. Heller and Clive jumped out, guns in their hand. I don’t know anything about guns, so couldn’t say what kind they were. But wow! Real guns! That really put my screwdriver to shame. I waved at them while the other three tensed in alarm. It’s not every day two huge, furious, gun-toting men descend on your house. Heller quickly assessed the situation and ordered Clive to holster his weapon, as he did the same.

  “I rescued myself,” I told Heller with a smile when he approached.

  He smiled back. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Matilda.” The two men sauntered up to the veranda where I made introductions and gave them a quick rundown on what had happened since we’d spoken.

  “Hmm, that dress you’re wearing is very fetching on you,” Heller teased.

  “Isn’t it just? However, sadly, I do believe I have ruined it in the scuffle and the back of the van was very dirty. It was Mary’s special dress and I will have to replace it. As I expected.”

  Heller reached into his pocket and pulled out four fifty-dollar US notes, handing them to me. “Daniel forced me to bring these for you. Will that help replace the dress?”

  “I expect so.” I put the cash in my deep pocket. I was just loving that pocket to death tonight.

  “Up you get, Matilda. I’m busy and have to get you back to work as well. Say goodbye to your new friends.” He was making fun of me again.

  “See you guys. Nice to meet you. Kind of,” I said to them casually, pulling out the screwdriver and placing it on the table.

  “Bye Tilly,” they responded, with Jonno adding, “And sorry again about roughing you up.”

  I shrugged philosophically.

  “You put up a good fight,” admitted Alan admiringly. “You’re a tough little thing.”

  I smiled at him and jumped into the back seat of the Mercedes, waving at them as we drove away.

  “You’ve had an interesting evening,” Heller noted, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “I can’t believe you guys thought you needed guns to rescue me. That’s so . . . so . . . hardcore!” They both laughed openly at me.

  “You look so sweet in that dress, Matilda. Very submissive. I like it.” I pulled a rude face at him in the mirror. “I’m thinking of making you wear something similar as a uniform.”

  “Well, you can stop thinking about that straight away. I can’t wait to take this dress off.”

  “That’s something I’d never get tired of hearing you say.”

  “Heller!” I protested, laughing. He smiled at me in the mirror and even Clive chuckled quietly.

  Before long he was dropping me off back at the hotel and I was waving goodbye to them. It had been an eventful couple of days and I trudged wearily up to the wives’ room, knocking on the door. It was an understatement to say that they fussed over me again; in fact, they virtually crushed me with fussing. I was in real danger of being suffocated by their attention. Eventually when they had all petered out, I turned to Mary, who kindly hadn’t commented yet on the state of her precious dress. I apologised for a full five minutes for ruining her dress and when I insisted that she take the cash to make herself a replacement, pressing it into her hands, her eyes were huge orbs in her face. I emphasised it was for her use, not the Pastor’s.

  “Mercy me, Tilly! This is enough money to make a special dress for all the wives,” she exclaimed breathlessly, her hands to her mouth.

  “Really? I’m glad if it is. I was worried it wouldn’t be enough to replace your special dress.”

  “Mercy.” She was genuinely knocked for six.

  “Mary, I really am so sorry not to have taken better care of your dress. I hope you can find the same material again.”

  “Tilly, I never gave my dress one moment of thought after you were kidnapped. And look at it. It’s only a little dirtied. That will wash out with a bit of soaking. There are no tears in it. I feel like a charlatan taking your money when my dress isn’t even spoiled.”

  “Please take it. It will make me feel better.” She then noticed the time and rushed off to spend the night with their husband. I’d missed evening prayers, thank God, and was glad to jump into the shower, even if it was cold again. I slept like a log, not waking until it was time for morning prayers.

  Pastor Peachey bustled in self-importantly to give the morning prayer session. Not even listening to his endless droning, I sat on the bed, half-asleep and still in my pyjamas, brushing my hair dreamily, in a complete reverie about a certain tall, beautiful blond man that I knew. The Pastor’s grating voice brought me back to earth again and I turned around in surprise. He had rarely addressed me directly since our first meeting.

  “Miss Chalmers, as you know, we are flying out after lunch. Would you mind meeting with me to discuss the final arrangements before we head off to the airport?” I nodded my agreement and returned to brushing my hair.

  When I went to get dressed, I realised I’d left my jeans lying carelessly crushed in a corner in the bathroom when I changed after our walk the previous morning, a very bad habit I didn’t seem to be able to shake. They were now soaked from six consecutive showers in the tiny room. I tutted with annoyance at myself. I’d have to put my suit back on, because I certainly wasn’t going to don the dress again. Oh well, it was a nice suit, so I didn’t mind.

  When I’d finished dressing I left the wives busily embroidering and knocked on the Pastor’s door. He opened it and invited me in. I followed him into his room and sat down on the worn out lounge, frantically pulling down my skirt, which had ridden up a smidge too high for my liking. I gave him a brief but detailed account of what had happened outside the hotel last night. He nodded his head gravely and commented that the fee he was paying to Heller had been worth it, if one of his wives had been saved from being kidnapped.

  I stood up to leave and he stood up as well.

  “Miss Chalmers, you and my wives seem to have forged an affectionate bond in the time you’ve known them?”

  I nodded. It was true. I liked them and they liked me.

  “I understand you’re a single woman with no man to take charge of you?”

  Well, I wouldn’t put it like that personally. But I guess that’s what he thought a man’s purpose was in a relationship, so I shrugged evasively, not wanting to offend a client unnecessarily and not sure if he’d paid Heller already or not.

  “Miss Chalmers, I would like you to return to the States with me and become my next wife.”

  I stared at him in shock. Holy shit! I didn’t see that coming!

  He continued. “In return for bearing my children,” Ick! “I will provide you with a home and protection against the sins of the world.”

  I didn’t know what to say and stood in his hotel room as still and mute as the Easter Island heads. Say something, stupid, my brain screamed at me. “Um. Gosh. I’m sure that’s a great honour to me, Pastor Peachey,” and he nodded his head in arrogant agreement. “But I’m going to have to say no. But thanks so much for asking.”

  “No?” he asked in disbelief.

  “I don’t want to get married or have children right now. Sure, one day maybe, but not now.” And not with you, I thought. “I’m only twenty-five.”

  “Two of my wives are younger than you and they are both mothers as well.�
�� Oh God, another man wanting to give me The Lecture.

  “Yes, and I’m very pleased for them, but I’m not ready to marry. Thanks anyway.” I turned to leave, but he grabbed me by my arm. I looked down at his hand firmly gripping my upper arm with hostility. “Can you please let go of me?” I suddenly didn’t feel like being polite any longer.

  “I should have known a woman like you wouldn’t be interested in the honest sanctity of marriage. You know, Miss Chalmers, I’ve been puzzling and praying these past few days over why the Lord has sent me a temptation such as you?” He was breathing rapidly, moving closer to me. I shook off his hand and stepped backwards instinctively. “That hair and those lips. Those lovely big eyes. Those long legs. And those breasts. Oh dear Lord, those breasts! Why would the Lord put such a sinful temptation in my path?”

  I stepped backwards further, warily. He was creeping me out with the burning intensity in his eyes.

  “Then I realised you are a test from the Lord. I must conquer your sin and show you the evilness of your body. I must defeat your temptation to show you that I am the master who can light your way to the Lord.”

  “No thanks!” I snapped, stepping back further. This had suddenly turned into a tricky situation for me. Should I ram past him or should I knee him in the balls? Decisions, decisions.

  “I have tried to be honourable with you and offer you my hand and a place in my bed.” Double ick! “But I can see I must use the other path, the more sinful path, with you. God will forgive me. God wants me to subdue you.”

  He sounded pretty sure about that as he reached towards me, grasping my boobs and rubbing them frantically, urgent lust etched into his face. I took one further step backwards in alarm, but ran up against the bed, the impact buckling my legs, forcing me to fall.

  Then everything happened with such terrifying quickness. He pushed me down forcefully onto the bed, one hand still on my breast, trying to rip my blouse off. He crushed me with his body before I had a chance to react. I found myself trapped beneath him, his mouth bruising mine with its pressure, forcing my lips apart and shoving his tongue so far down my throat I almost gagged. He let go of my breast momentarily to brutally force my legs apart with his hands, his fingers biting into the tender skin of my thighs. One hand impatiently rucked my skirt upwards and pushed my panties to one side, touching me, the other fumbling with his pants, trying to free his erect penis.

  If I don’t do something now he was going to rape me, I thought desperately. It frightened me how rapidly I had lost control of the situation. I struggled angrily against him, and he grabbed my arms with one hand.

  “Yes, oh God, yes! Struggle away, my little fawn! It makes your submission to me even more righteous,” he moaned in ecstasy. Having trouble undoing his belt with just one hand, he unwisely let my arms go.

  I immediately used both hands to push vigorously against his chin, my muscles straining, fuelled by sheer terror. I forced his head uncomfortably backwards, then used the fingernails of my right hand to dig into his Adam’s apple as hard as I could, drawing blood. If I had been a stronger person I would have ripped it from his throat without a second thought. He choked, briefly releasing his weight on me, as he struggled to inhale. I took the chance to bring my knees up and kick him hard with both feet in his chest forcing him off me onto the floor. I sprang up immediately and ran for the door, but he also sprang to his feet quickly and threw his arm around my neck, pulling my body back up against his.

  “You’re a spirited one, are you not? It’s going to make your ultimate submission to me that much sweeter and holier,” he gloated in my ear, and started rubbing my boobs again. I flailed around helplessly; he had unbelievably strong arms. I kicked back at him, like I had done to Heller a few days ago, and my high heel crunched into his shin. He released the pressure of his arm briefly and I twisted around so we were facing each other, a strangely intimate position considering our circumstances and my murderous intentions towards him.

  He lunged forward to latch his lips onto mine again, tongue instantly buried in my mouth. I let him despite my disgust, to distract him by the kiss while I pulled back my arm, balled my fist and drove it as hard as I could into his stomach. He bent over in agony and I put my hand on the back of his neck and quickly pushed his head down, bringing my knee up at the same time to smash into his nose with an horrible crunching sound. He made a choking noise and I did it again. And again, until he collapsed onto the floor, blood streaming out of his busted nose. Then I stood over him and kicked him hard in his nuts over and over, so incredibly angry that I couldn’t stop.

  “No means NO, arsehole!” I screamed at him, remembering how his fingers had touched me up.

  He curled into the foetal position, tears streaming down his face, begging me to stop in viscous gasps.

  “I’m ringing the police,” I threatened, breathing raggedly with emotion and fear, stepping far away from the pathetic creature rolling on the floor.

  “No! Please don’t. My reputation,” he pleaded, crying.

  “Your reputation is nothing but a pack of lies. You are an evil little maggot who deserves to die. I’m going to ring Heller. He’ll come over and kill you.”

  “No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please think of my wives. They need me to look after them. It will never happen again.”

  “Too bloody right it won’t.”

  I finally decided whom I was going to call, adrenaline pumping strongly through my veins, my breathing laboured. I rang next door and mastered my emotions enough to politely ask the wives to come to their husband’s room immediately. They came obediently as I knew they would and I let them in. They were aghast to see my dishevelled, upset state and their husband rolling on the floor, clutching his genitals, his nose bleeding, weeping copiously. I viciously grabbed him by an ear and forced him to stand up. He was in so much pain he could hardly even stand straight.

  “Tell your wives what you did, you fucking deviant.”

  The wives flinched at my bad language and anger. He clearly didn’t wish to cooperate, so I balled my fist and punched him again in the stomach. He moaned loudly in agony, a spurt of vomit staining his blood-splattered white shirt. The wives shrieked in fear.

  “Tell them!” I screamed into his ear.

  The wives shrunk back in terror, clutching at each other for comfort.

  “I tried to have relations with –”

  I punched him again, even harder this time, merciless, not caring for his choice of words. He sobbed piteously, tears, blood and snot streaming down his face, more vomit dribbling from his mouth onto his shirt.

  “I tried to force myself on Miss Chalmers,” he admitted weakly, slumping heavily. It was all I could do to keep him upright.

  The wives gasped in horror, buzzing with shocked commentary.

  “But Husband, you’ve always told us that it is a deadly sin to seek relations outside a marriage,” voiced Mary hesitantly, confused.

  “And that it is a grave sin for a man to force himself on a woman. That is why you always instructed us to come willingly to your bed,” said Rebecca in a near-whisper, tears forming in her eyes.

  “I am a terrible sinner and a hypocrite. I have sought relations outside my marriage and I have tried to force myself on a woman,” he confessed sobbing, without even any more fist-in-the-stomach prompting from me. His words had an immediate effect on his wives. They visibly lost respect for him and stared at him in hurt bewilderment.

  There was utter silence in the room, except for his snivelling.

  “Does one of you wish to tend to your husband?” I asked.

  There were no takers. I didn’t blame them.

  “You’re on your own, sport. Get ready for the airport,” I spat at him, letting him go. He collapsed onto the floor and lay there quietly sobbing. We filed out and left him lying in pain, each of his wives throwing their disgraced husband a look of open disgust. I took the ladies back to the other bedroom, putting the chain on the door, where I told them the whole sordid
story. They cried piteously, all of their illusions about the holiness and righteousness of their husband destroyed in a few minutes. I made them hand me the conjugal nightgown, which I ripped into as many pieces as I could, almost frightening myself with my rage.

  “You never wear that again, okay? You have to stick together about things you hate or that make you feel sinful. You’re six strong righteous women against one puny sinful man. You know better than him and you’ll win every time as long as you stick together. And no more wives in this family. He’s got enough wives and children for any man. Any more would be greedy. And that’s a real sin.”

  They all nodded in fear, but I could see I’d given them much food for thought.

  I mended my appearance as much as possible, called a maxi-taxi and accompanied the family to the airport. There was a distinctly frosty silence between the wives and their husband. He was very subdued, walking carefully, his nose bruising up nicely. He was going to have a horror trip home on the plane, confined to a seat for hours. I hugged each woman warmly and hoped that they would make some permanent changes to their living arrangements on their return home.

  I stayed to watch their plane take off before gratefully caught a taxi back to the Warehouse.

  Chapter 29

  First thing I did back home was have a long, hot shower and change into some fresh clothes. Then I cooked myself a real meal with lots of fresh vegetables and headed down to the office. I turned on my computer to check my emails and laughed out loud as soon as I saw its new desktop wallpaper. It was the newspaper photo from the lecture, with angry me in the middle of the soft, pliant wives. But Niq and Daniel’s faces had been photoshopped onto two of the wives’ faces, so it appeared as though they were with me, also wearing the hideous dresses.

  “Nice one, boys,” I said appreciatively, and they both grinned in response.

  Heller was out all day, so I didn’t see him until later in the evening, after I had cleared away my dinner plates. I’d showered and changed into my pyjamas and was lying on the lounge watching some mindless TV show, ready for my own soft, quiet bed. I can’t even remember what the show was, but it involved beautiful and serious FBI agents solving weirdo murders in less than an hour. Brian would have laughed in derision at the prospect. I wondered if he even watched those shows. Then I realised that I didn’t know much about my brother at all. He was a closed book to me.