The bar remained silent. I looked around to see the reactions on the faces of others. Everyone was alert, and strangely afraid. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who got antsy around the soldiers.
The soldier held up another photo. “Timothy Pederson,” he said. “Dodging the draft—still believed to be in the city. Look familiar to anyone?”
A hand slowly went up in the crowd.
“Yes, you.”
“I think I saw him on the train this morning. He looks familiar.”
“Okay, come with us and tell us everything. Sergeant Michaels will take you. Go on now.” Then he held up another picture: my picture. “Joseph Alary,” he said with a loud, booming voice. I swear I could feel his voice reverberating down my spine. “Dodging the draft. We believe he’s still in the city, as his bank card was used at an ATM earlier today, not too far from here.” My stomach turned. I wanted to sink low, but I knew that any movement might draw attention towards me. They had my picture now. I knew that I passed as a woman now, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t look at all like my picture. I still had the same nose, the same eyes, the same bone structure, and so on. I was still the same person, just with a wig and a bit of makeup.
One of the drinkers looked back at me slowly, as if he was putting together the pieces in his mind. I wanted to look away, but I was too afraid to make even a slight movement. I was even too afraid to draw air into my lungs. I could feel my skin turning white.
The soldier pulled out another image. “Danny Lewis—Dodging the draft. CCTV footage showed him in this area just a few hours ago.”
“That guy!” the bartender said. “He’s in the bathroom.” The crowd started rabbling. And the man did look familiar. I think I saw him as I scanned the faces of the bar when I sat down. But I didn’t say anything. I still wasn’t even sure if I was breathing. Two of the soldiers marched over to the bathroom and tried the door. It was locked. So one of them stepped back, raised his foot, and then pounded the door open with a loud crack. They stormed the bathroom. I could hear yelling. It was only a moment later when Danny was pulled out from the bathroom, kicking his legs, begging with the soldiers. “Please! I don’t want to go to prison! I can’t go to prison! They’ll kill me!”
“You aren’t going to prison, buddy. You’re going to China. If you survive over there, then maybe we’ll talk about prison. Now let’s go. You’ve got a bus to catch.”
A moment later, the bar was silent. Danny and the soldiers were gone. The mood in the bar was dead. Everyone settled into their seats in a morose stillness. I finished the last of my beer, keeping my head tilted down so that no one would recognize me. One of the soldiers had left the three pictures with the bartender, and now he was tacking them up on the wall, not too far from my face. I looked up and saw my own eyes looking back at me. I wondered how they got the photo—it wasn’t one that was on my Facebook page or anywhere online. It was a vacation photo from a couple of years before—a photo that was on my laptop hard drive and nowhere else. But that laptop was in my bag.
I couldn’t help but wonder if they could trace it, even while it was off. If they could access my hard drive, was it really so hard to believe that they could trace me? After I left that bar, I went down to the river and I tossed my computer over the bridge. Then I tossed my wallet, keeping only the money. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry, even if it meant losing a few thousand dollars. At least I had something—enough to get me to a new city.
CHAPTER VII
Once again, I didn’t get much sleep. It didn’t help that it started raining in the middle of the night, and that rain got into my sleeping bag and into my backpack, making everything I owned wet. It was a cold rain. Apparently the weather in China was nicer. I wondered if I would have been better off there.
The sun was just teasing the horizon when I decided to start my hike north. My plan wasn’t to get to Canada—just to get far, far away from the city where I’d last been traced. I was going to need a new identity, which meant I needed a new name. I spent that whole morning trying to think of a good one. I said them aloud while I walked along those country back roads. “Tracy. Anne. Katie. Kylie. Courtney. Belle. Masie…” None of the names sounded right. I liked the name Jessica, but I’d given it to those soldiers, and I didn’t want anything linking me back to them. “Kristy,” I said, and the name made me stop. I said it again. “Kristy.” It had a nice ring to it. I think it suited my blonde braids and cute little outfits.
My walk slowly turned into a skip. The country air was warm and fresh and inviting. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder constantly, and my body wasn’t in a constant state of tension. Maybe moving to a new city would be good for me, and not just because I was escaping the town where I was on a most-wanted list. Maybe it was time for a good change of pace. I could find a new job, start up some new hobbies. Maybe instead of living in a downtown apartment, I could look into getting a nice, little farmhouse.
Speaking of farmhouses, it was around 2:00 PM when I came across one, far away from the city. It was a cute two-story house surrounded by a large, overgrown field. There were no cars in the driveway—and even the driveway was overgrown with weeds that appeared untouched by tires. I stopped at the end of the lot and stared at the house. My water bottle was empty, and I was quickly running out of food. I hadn’t been doing a great job of rationing, assuming I would come across plenty of little stores in little towns, but there weren’t any little towns along those far-away back roads. So I ventured up that long driveway and I knocked on the door, hoping for a bit of charity.
There was no answer, so I knocked again, then again. Then I tried the handle. It was locked. I pressed my face against the window and looked in. The house was dark and dusty. If someone was living inside, they were doing a great job of leaving everything untouched. I went around to the back and found that a back window was left unlocked. I pried it open and climbed inside carefully. Then I tiptoed around, peeking into every room, making sure there was no one home. I found a draft letter on the kitchen counter. Next to the draft letter was a letter addressed to a woman. “Darlene, you can come stay with us until your husband is back from the war. There’s always a bedroom here for you. You know the address. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” Upstairs, I found an open closet door. The closet had been recently pillaged, and there was a spot on the ground that would have perfectly fit a large suitcase. So I determined that the house was abandoned.
I filled up my water bottle and then I started pillaging for food. I ate an entire box of crackers and then I heated up the leftover pasta that I found in the fridge. It was still good—a bit stale—but probably only a couple of weeks old. I was finishing up the pasta when I noticed a photo on the wall. It was a picture of the couple that owned the farmhouse. They were a young couple—but it was the woman’s dress that caught my attention. It was a tight dress, with a halter-top and a lacy strip down the centre of the chest. It looked adorable on her, especially with her lacy black shoes.
I went up to the bedroom and started looking for that dress. It was only a minute before I found it, and many other dresses that felt and looked incredibly sexy. I quickly got undressed and then I squeezed myself into the cute dress with the halter-top. It wasn’t easy to zip up by myself, but I managed. Then I found the shoes, which surprisingly fit my feet quite nicely. I wobbled slightly, having never worn heels before. I stepped over to the mirror and stared at myself. The dress looked remarkably pretty on me. I did a few poses. I loved how light the dress was—like I could barely feel it touching my skin, even when I spun and the dress danced around me.
I stole a lacy thong to replace the panties I was wearing. The thong was much less noticeable under that tight dress, and it actually felt kind of nice, hugging my cock and ball sack in place. I took my hair out from my braids and I let it fall naturally over my shoulders. It was curly from being held in braids for so long—but it was cute. I went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup before try
ing on another dress—and then another, and then another.
It was surprisingly fun, seeing myself in all of those different outfits, feeling all of those different fabrics against my skin. I still couldn’t get over how beautiful I was. I felt like I wanted to take a picture, but I no longer had a phone or even a laptop with a webcam. Though I don’t know what I would have done with a picture anyway, other than worry that the wrong people would eventually see it.
After a couple of hours playing dress-up in the woman’s bedroom, I realized it was getting late. My original plan was to find some spot in nature to sleep, but how could I pass up the opportunity to sleep in a warm bed? I ran a hot bath and decided to settle into the farmhouse that night. I even used a bit of bubble bath mixture, which made the tub smell like flowers. But as I was putting the bubble bath mixture away, I noticed a pink glimmer in the drawer. I opened the drawer all the way and saw a long, pink vibrator. I grinned at the sight of it. My heart was suddenly throbbing, though I couldn’t figure out why.
I lifted the long dildo up and then I walked over to the mirror. I gave it a little shake, making it giggle. I caught myself smirking. Then I brought the sex toy to my lips and gently teased the tip of it with my tongue. I felt so naughty, but I looked so sexy in such a strange way. I parted my lips and allowed the vibrator into my mouth. It was exhilarating watching myself fellate a sex toy, as if I actually had the capacity to suck a cock. I plunged the toy in and out of my mouth and then I took it and ran it down the centre of my chest, towards my non-existent pussy. I pressed the button on the base of the toy and it started to vibrate. I pretended like the tip of my dick was my clit. I rubbed that vibrator hard, pushing it down while moaning. I had a pretty good fake girly moan, which I learned how to do back in high-school, when me and some friends planned on making a fake recording of a teacher we all hated fucking one of her students. The plan failed because we were caught with the tape recorder in the boys’ change room.
I wanted to close my eyes, but I didn’t want to look away from my adorable reflection. I really was sexy. Those men at that bar weren’t wrong to ogle me and buy me drinks. I would have done the same thing, assuming I could have built up the courage. I kept rubbing that vibrator against my cock. I was hard, but my thong was holding me down. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to pull out my cock and ruin the illusion, so I just kept rubbing, succumbing to the elation of the vibration. I moaned louder—and this time, it was a real moan. My legs trembled in those tiny heels. I grabbed the edge of the vanity so that I wouldn’t fall over. I let out a long groan, and then I felt my cock bulging and twitching. My crotch suddenly felt warm and wet. I couldn’t stop groaning and I couldn’t stop swaying. My hands were trembling hard. Finally, I couldn’t even hold onto the vibrator. I dropped it and used my other hand to hold the vanity so that I wouldn’t fall over. Then I looked down. A glob of cum fell to the floor from between my legs. It was pouring out the side of my thong. “Shit,” I muttered. I carefully pulled that thong down. My white load was cradled perfectly in that tiny patch of fabric.
I took a deep breath. My heart was still pounding and I still wasn’t sure why, though the hot tub helped me relax. I closed my eyes and let that floral scent take me away for the next twenty minutes. I was glad I wasn’t in China. I made the right choice by temporarily becoming a woman. As long as I could stay off of the military’s radar, I was going to be just fine.
CHAPTER VIII
I was just sitting up when I heard a loud pounding at the door downstairs. A relaxing ten-hour sleep was suddenly ruined, even though I was already up when the knock came to the farmhouse. I sprung to my feet and looked around quickly. I grabbed my bag off the floor and quickly began stuffing in the essentials. I was trying to think of who could be at the door. The homeowner? No—no homeowner would knock on his or her own door. Was it a neighbour? There wasn’t a neighbour for miles. Was it a soldier, out looking for me? How would they know where to find me?
The knock came again, just as I finished zipping up my bag. I wanted to spend more time in that farmhouse pillaging the clothing options, but my safety was more important. So I carefully snuck down the stairs and crept towards the back door. My plan was to sneak out the back and then start running towards the treeline. I figured I could get into that small patch of woods before anyone noticed me, and then I could stay off the roads on my way to the next town.
I cautiously opened the door and stepped out. I started running across the grass, stepping my feet down quietly so that I couldn’t draw any attention. But all my carefulness was for nothing. “Hey! You there!” a strong, masculine voice called out. I knew I should have continued my dash for the woods, but instead I became frozen as my heart plunged into my stomach. I spun around slowly. I could feel that my face was completely white. I was now staring at an armed soldier. I somehow managed to force a smile.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
A chill tickled my exposed skin as a breeze tried to lift up the skirt of my dress. “I was just doing yard work,” I managed to say.
He stared at me with an unimpressed look, and I knew I was caught. I looked down at his rifle and wondered how good of a shot he was. Would he be able to peg me before I could reach those trees? Or would he be able to catch me if he started running after me? I wasn’t an amazing runner, and I probably wasn’t in the best shape of my life. “It’s a bit cold to be doing yard work in a dress like that,” he said.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” I forced another smile.
He was totally silent, staring at me with those dark, faraway eyes. “Come inside,” he said, and then he turned and walked into the farmhouse. With his back turned, it was the perfect opportunity to get away. But instead of running, I followed him inside. Getaways weren’t my thing. I wasn’t a physical person—which was why I avoided the military like the plague. If I was going to get out of this mess, it would be with a careful lie and not a full-blown sprint across the countryside.
The soldier was already in the kitchen, pacing around while looking at the photos on the walls. He had his hands clasped behind his back and his head up high. “You aren’t in any of these photos,” he said as I stopped in the doorway.
“It’s my friend’s place. She asked me to look after it,” I said as my heart trembled.
“Your friend’s place, huh?” he asked. “And what’s your name?”
“Kristy,” I said. “Can I get you a tea or a coffee or anything?”
He stared at me with his lips curled into a slight smirk. “Tea would be great,” he said.
So I walked over to the cupboard where I imagined the teakettle would be. It wasn’t there, so I tried the next one. It wasn’t there either. I tried three more cupboards, then the man said, “How long have you been looking after the place?”
“Just a few days,” I said. “I’m still figuring out where everything is.”
“A few days, huh?” he nodded his head slowly as he looked down at his lap with that same slight smirk.
“Yeah. Why?” I asked, forcing yet another tedious smile.
“Well I’ve got a picture of you here, from yesterday. It’s a picture of you leaving town.” He pulled a large photo out from his pocket and held it out towards my face. And there I was, caught on someone’s CCTV camera, darting across a field of grass. I felt my legs become weak. My knees wanted to buckle but I somehow stayed upright.
“I went into town yesterday to grab a couple of things that I forgot.”
“It’s a long walk to make—almost thirty miles. And just to grab a couple of things? Were they important things?”
He was toying with me, letting me dig myself deeper and deeper into the hole I’d made for myself. He was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to apprehend me, so that I could feel defeated and foolish at the same time. But I had to cling onto that small morsel of hope that I still had a chance. “I’m sorry, but did I do something wrong?”
He laughed and then he looked out t
owards the window. I thought about grabbing the cast-iron pan off the counter and smacking him on the head with it. I wasn’t fond of the idea of killing someone, but I was starting to feel desperate. I took a deep breath and inched closer to that pan, just so that I would have the option.
“Wrong?” he said with another small snicker. “I suppose not. But my superiors tell me that your boyfriend is on the wanted list. You are Joe Alary’s girlfriend, are you not? Were you not at his apartment just a few days ago? The place was abandoned quickly, you know. And I’m told that you gave some soldiers a fake address, sending them on a wild goose chase. Now why would you do something like that?” He looked towards the counter. “How’s that tea coming along?”
I looked over and saw that he was looking at the teakettle, which was already out on the stove. But I was no longer interested in making the man some tea. I just wanted him to leave. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, to be honest. I think you should probably get going.”
“Getting a bit defensive, are we?” he said. He took a step towards me and looked down into my eyes. He suddenly seemed large—massive even. “Is Joe here?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told everyone else: I haven’t seen Joe in weeks. In fact, Joe and me were hardly ever dating. I would never call him my boyfriend. He was just… just a fling. If I’m going to be honest, he was actually a bit of a slob.”
The soldier walked over to the teakettle. He popped open the lid and looked inside, and then he turned on the stove. “I’d really like some tea,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m sure the boil will be finished once I’m finished looking around the place.” He started his search without waiting for my green light. He flung open closet doors and pulled back rugs. He pulled open each cupboard door before heading towards the staircase and storming up. I followed him closely, my heart pounding. I tried to think if I had any of my old personal belongings—anything that would give me up. I couldn’t think of anything, but I also couldn’t think of what I actually had.
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