Chapter 7

Written by: Ray Stone

Francis turned to run as one of the youths pointed to her.

“Grab her,” he shouted. “Let’s take her to the caravan.”

The youths erupted into a frenzy of whooping and ran toward Francis.

Screaming, Francis tripped over a fallen branch in the dark and fell headlong into ferns, losing her phone. She scrambled through the undergrowth but before she could get up, rough hands pulled at her arms. As they carried her back to the clearing she could smell the distinct aroma of marijuana.

A small yellow caravan stood parked to one side of the campsite, half hidden beneath the trees, its bodywork covered in mud. Standing next to it was a shining Harley SuperLow. One of the youths, an older one wearing a red sweatband around his forehead and a bikers leather jacket, ran forward and unlocked the rear door. As he did so, Francis noticed a cell phone hanging from his belt. It was Peter’s.

Kicking and screaming, Francis fought against being pushed into the caravan as the crowd of youths laughed and taunted her. The door banged shut behind her. She found herself in total darkness. Frightened, she lay trembling, listening to the youths making unsavory remarks about her. She feared the worst and, pulling her torn and disheveled skirt about her, sobbed and shook uncontrollably.     

Without warning, a hand touched her thigh. Francis screamed and jerked sideways, lashing out at her assailant.

“Please,” she pleaded, “please leave me alone. I’m only fifteen…..please.”

A hand went over her mouth while another went around her shoulders.

“Don’t scream or they’ll be back. It’s me….Peter,” he hissed in her ear.

Francis let out a muffled cry and collapsed into Peter’s arms, clutching him tightly to her. Between sobs she explained she was trying to find him.

As they lay in the darkness listening to the youths, Peter told her he left the group and took one of her bears. He wanted to hang the bear from another tree as a way of getting back at her. As it turned out it was a pretty stupid thing to do. He dropped the bear while up the tree and a dog came out of nowhere, picked it up, and ran away. He ran after it and came face to face with the youths.

“Why are they doing this?” Francis whispered.

They were growing marijuana. There Peter had stumbled on a large patch not far from the tree. It was well hidden with rows of thriving plants.  From remarks he overheard, the gang, headed by the biker, were talking about a deal with a buyer who was coming out to the camp with plenty of money the following day. 

Francis began to shiver. The caravan was cold. Outside the shouting had stopped.

Peter pulled her close.  They would try to escape.  “In the meantime, let’s hope our friends have the sense to go and talk to Owl before they search hereabouts.”

Francis frowned. “Who?”

“The Police.”

Raymond Stone (MT)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

The event is starting to turn ugly now! There is lots of potential about where this can go. Who will survive and who will get some grief? Good turn in the story Raymond.
The link with the dog picking up the bear was very well placed. I also like where this story is heading. We now have some direction for the rest of the story.
I know with only 500 words it's hard to fit in a decent story and not skip over things, so even though I thought the losing of the phone by Frances was too 'staged', it may have taken too long for her to realise another way that she had lost it.