Buying the Virgin

Chapter 104: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Twenty

CHARLOTTE

The dead of night:

Under heaps of bedcovers, our bedroom lit by the single candle we keep burning through the night, and

the remains of the embers, glowing in the hearth, I lie, loosely entwined with Michael. I can’t sleep at

all, fretful with worry, and I simply rest there, watching his beautiful face.

In the dim, golden light, his features are a pattern of light and shade, finely formed; the defined line of

his mouth set against a pale stubble where he’s not had a chance to shave. My pussy is a little sore

from that, but I’ll not say such a thing to him. And his beautiful blond hair contrasts with oddly dark

lashes, which, eyes open, frame their fantastic blue, but now, on his sleeping face, give him an oddly

childlike look.

Never would I watch him like this waking. But now, free to gaze, I take simple pleasure in the beauty of

my Golden Lover.

Outside there is a small noise, a splintering sound, as of breaking glass. Michael’s eyes snap open,

locking with mine.

He raises a finger to his mouth, pressing it against his lips, as he reaches under the bed, and pulls out

his long-handled wood axe. He stands, naked, his breath a steam cloud, as he positions himself behind

the door.

Holding the axe in one hand, he points to me, and thumbs me out of the bed, then points to the bolster

and waves a finger pointing down the length of the bed. Moving as quickly and quietly as I can, I rise,

push the bolster lengthwise under the blankets to resemble a human body and riffle the sheets over the

top, so that it’s not too obvious there is no head on the pillow. Then, as quickly as I can, I slip on the

warmest clothes I have to hand, plus my steel-capped work boots, and gather Michael’s clothes

together, ready to pass to him.

There is a creak outside the door.

Michael stands, poised, the axe held with both hands supporting it, ready to swing at whatever comes

through the door. I’ve seen Michael wield that axe, splitting wood. And our Christmas tree of earlier

today barely resisted his blows. He knows how to use it.

I stand well behind him, keeping out of range of the blade.

The door opens slowly, grating on ancient hinges. From our vantage point, out of sight of the intruder,

all we see is the silhouette of a handgun.

As the gun, and the hand holding it, come into clear view, Michael brings the axe down, at the last- Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

minute twisting it so that, not the edge, but the butt of the head contacts the hand.

I’m not sure this is an improvement for the owner of the hand. There is a scream. The gun fires and the

bolster and blankets jump under the impact of the bullet. The hand itself is not severed, but surely

every bone is smashed. The gun drops to the ground and I snatch it up. For good measure, Michael

brings the flat of the axe head against the gun owner’s screaming head, and he falls silent.

“Come on,” he says urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“You can’t go out like that; stark naked into two feet of snow.”

“You’re right.” He grabs his boots, shoving his feet in, stuffing the laces inside for speed. “Bring those

clothes.”

He’ll fuckin’ freeze….

“Where do we go?”

“There’s a walkers’ shelter, only a few hundred yards down the trail. It’s not far, but they won’t find it in

the dark without knowing it’s there. Let’s aim for there, and then we can take a breather.”

How many are there of them?

Michael has only the boots he is wearing and his axe. I carry his clothes and grab my phone, stuffing it

into a pocket, thanking all the powers that I’d thought to charge it up before I came home, At the last

moment, I remember a couple of chocolate bars that are in a bedside drawer, stuffing them into my

other pocket. And as we leave, I pull a blanket from the top of the bed.

We make our way, silently into the night. But as we leave through the back door, there are voices

approaching us.

“Into the woodshed.” hisses Michael.

Backed into the shadows, we stand silently, but the voices pass by. As we leave, for good measure I

pick up a stout stick. It’s not much of a weapon against a gun, but I feel better having it.

He had the axe under the bed….

“You were ready for them. You thought they might come here?”

“If I’d really been paying attention, I would have slept with some clothes on.”

The night is bitter. Late December; Christmas only just around the corner and there is snow on the

ground. There is only a cheese rind of a moon, but with the snow, reflecting shades of blue and purple

into a velvet, spangled sky, we can see quite well.

“Which way?”

“Under the trees, into the shadows.”

As quickly as we can, we slip through the darkness, from one blue shadow to the next.

How many are there?

Shivering violently, Michael says, “Don’t hang around. If they find our footprints, we’re in trouble.”

“Here.” I wrap the blanket around his naked torso, and he clutches it one-handedly at his neck, his

other hand still holding the axe.

Behind us I hear can men talking; two voices I think, but I can’t make out their words, then, there, right

behind me, the sound of footsteps crunching in snow….

Michael hears it too, and whirling, he drops the blanket…. “Duck!” he says…. I drop to the ground,

hearing the whoosh of the axe swinging above me, a soft and silken sound that cuts through the air

and ends in a shriek, as the axe connects, flat-headed, with something above me.

There is a muffled scream as a body drops behind me, and I jump on it, pressing my hand over the

crushed and splintered remains of a face, which tries to scream at me all the while I struggle to keep it

gagged.

The neck below the face has a tie, so I unknot it and stuff it into the mouth, then pick up the gun which

dropped into the snow beside the body.

Leaving the squirming body behind us, Michael and I run into the night.

In the walkers’ shelter, Michael can finally pull on his clothes. He is badly chilled, and takes a minute or

so to stamp the heat back into his legs, beating his arms about himself. I produce the chocolate, and

we eat a bar apiece. We’re going to need the calories.

It is very dark in here, and I can only just make out the white of his eyes as he says, “Well done,

keeping a cool head like that. Most women would have gone into a panic when a bloody corpse

dropped behind them.”

“He wasn’t a corpse, was he? I could see you took him with the flat of the axe. And he had a gun. They

both did....”

“Still, you kept your head well, gagging him like that. If he’s lucky, he might freeze first, instead of

bleeding to death.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t panic. I’ll save the hysterical breakdown for later, when we’re safe.”

“Good girl.” He kisses me on the head. “We’ll head up the trail and take some of the side tracks. Under

the trees, we should be able to avoid leaving too many footprints, and I’m not sure they’ll follow us into

the dark.”

“Where are we heading?”

“There’s another highway, six or seven miles along. If we can make it there, we’ll be able to thumb a lift

back to the City.”

I wave my phone at him, flicking on the screen. Concealed in the shelter, the light cannot betray us

now.

In the dim light, and with my night vision well-adjusted, I can see Michael’s face clearly now. “Your

phone!” His smile lights up. “I didn’t realise.”

“Well, I didn’t dare try to use it out there. They could have seen it. I’ll raise the alarm. We can have a

welcoming party waiting for us when we get to the highway.”

I tap in my Master’s number.

“Charlotte? It’s late to be calling. Is everything alright?”

Michael snatches the phone from me. “James. We were attacked. Not sure how many there are, but

they’re armed with guns. We’ve taken out two of them, but there’s more, so we’re taking the trail to

Highway 427. It’s several miles and we’re travelling through the dark and the snow. Can you meet us

there….?”

He listens, then grins. “Great. See you in a few hours…. “He glances over at me. “Yes, she’s fine… No,

neither of us is hurt. Yes, we’re both fine, really. Yes, of course I will.”

“He’s bringing the cavalry.…” He wraps his arms around me. “You okay?”

“Yup.”

He stands back, staring into my face. “That’s it? ‘Yup’?”

“What else did you want? Some flapping female who slows you down, and goes all useless on you?”

He visibly swallows his words. “No, and I’ve never taken you for the useless type. C’mon. We’d better

get moving.”

“What should I do with the guns?”

“Do you know how to use one?”

“No.”

“Safer without them then. Toss them on top of the shelter outside. They won’t find them up there.”