Chapter 3

Cynthia climbed into the back of the SUV with Gladys being right behind her. Both wore sweat clothes and down jackets that were too big for them. Jim bought a dozen blue in the same size. His! It was very cold with a smattering of snow on the ground. Sticking to his planned series of back roads, he drove the vehicle just under the speed limit, going northeast through British Columbia toward the eastern section of Alberta. Tonight they'd sleep in the van and hopefully, if all went well, they would be at their destination point where they could make delivery of the girl late tomorrow evening. They then had to return to the States to collect their fee plus all the expenses from the man who set this whole thing up. Usually he was paid on the spot but this time was a little different. And being between Christmas and New Year, Walcott was anxious to get enough money to send his kids something nice, even though he had married a real frigid bitch.

It started occurring to Cynthia that she might have been sold into white slavery. The thought of her having sex with so many different men gave her sickening chills of terror. Why her? Her goals were to benefit all of mankind, not to be a common prostitute. She had sacrificed all of her youth to achieve this objective, ever since she watched her father bring a black man back to life after he was stuck down with a heart attack at Pike's Market. She was only five at the time and on a little outing with her parents when the man collapsed. She wanted to do what her father had; do good. To be a person who could help, not hinder. To save, not kill. Cynthia now was missing school for the second day of her life and she felt empty inside. Guilty, though she knew it wasn't any fault of her own. Now she was going to be a sexual object for men who had nothing but carnal lusts flowing through them, and she'd just be a tool by which to sate the wicked desires of these men. All of this she kept within her. She knew that protesting would do her no good. She sat in the back of this SUV with this lesbian holding her hand trying to be a comfort. The girl often sought to kiss her on the cheek or neck or ear. Strangely she liked the attention of Gladys It seemed to Cynthia that she was an object of the girl's lusts. Not that it was a bad thing at the moment. Where did Gladys go last night after feeding her?

As Cynthia was pondering her possible future as a prostitute, Jim Walcott was getting frustrated with the time it was taking, having to go out of the way of any detection. He was also getting pissed off with the growing impatience of the complaints each man vocalized. He wanted to drop them off at a hotel or motel but in this area of wilderness between Western Alberta and Eastern Saskatchewan there wasn't anything. Besides, they might think he was going to abandon them, grabbing all the money for himself and that whore in the back. Even though they all knew Walcott back in high school, hanging around him for all these years, they didn't trust him.

"Look at that herd of elk!" Sam Tomlinson, riding shotgun shouted out. Being hunters, all the males gazed at the hundred or so of the big antlered animals which were slowly making their way across the road in front of them.

"Where the fuck were they when I was bow hunting them two weeks ago?" one moaned, watching some with prized racks on their heads.

"Keeping the fuck out of your way," another piped in laughing.

"Assholes," Gladys said in a low voice only Cynthia could hear.

"Hey Jim," she called out. "Can you send some more heat back here? Us girls are freezing."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," one of the men barked. "We're cold too."

Jim stopped the vehicle, put it in park and turned around to face the man. "Don't you ever call her a bitch again, asshole," he growled menacingly. "You know if we go after each others throats, we're going to end up fighting and that isn't in my plan."

"How much longer?" Another man asked.

"Are we there yet?" someone else joked.

"I'll know it when I see it," Jim turned and put the SUV in drive. He was angry but didn't want to show it. As soon as they returned to Seattle, he planned passing out the loot, taking Gladys and never seeing them again. He liked the girl and very few were like her. She had an over active sex drive one seldom saw in a young girl like her. Pretty and always horny. He knew that Cynthia was a cold fish and although she was very beautiful, she had the sexual appetite of a corpse.

"We're coming up to a small town," he announced. "Same routine as before. Gladys, if you gotta piss, you take Cynthia and do your thing. You too, Thomas. You guys shit and piss if you have to. We will meet in the restaurant but the girls will stay in the van. We'll bring your food out to you."

He pulled in and some of the men were upset that they had to move for the females to get out first. The women made their way to the bathroom as Jim got out to fill up the tank.

"When we were spying on you, you always dressed nice. Not sexy but very nice," Gladys stood in front of a mirror touching up on her lipstick. Cynthia wasn't wearing any and just ran a brush through her mane to prevent it from being completely messy.

"My father can afford them and my mother would buy them for me," she explained, not putting on airs.

"Rich, huh?"