Chapter 13
Mike felt sharp, stabbing pains in his side by the time he was halfway up the trail. At Fall Creek he ran across the wooden bridge and heard his footsteps echoing. Then the trail grew steeper as it went up Spindler Creek, which came down the mountainside in a series of waterfalls and finally leveled out briefly at the swimming hole. He ran hard, ignoring the pain in his side, steeling himself against it. In his mind was an image of Burt Conroy - Burt with that insufferable smile, that lofty way he had. Burt holding Ellie Brighton - his Ellie.
Once or twice he slowed down to a walk, no longer able to keep up the pace, and he clenched his hands in desperation at the slow pace. When he got hold of Burt - "Good evening."
Mike jumped back, startled.
"It's just me, Claude Branch."
Claude was sitting there on a log, all alone, a hulking, massive man, his huge hands resting on his knees. Mike greeted him and walked on quickly, wondering what Claude Branch was doing out here in the dark.
"They'll still be there!" Branch called out after him.
The misunderstanding irked Mike, but he didn't stop to explain that he wasn't going up Spindler Creek to join the others. There would be time enough for explanations later. For the moment he had enough to do just to keep himself from falling down from exhaustion.
He began to run again.
It had been Burt Conroy's intention to save Ellie for late in the evening, when everyone would be drunk and eager for some kind of new diversion. At that time he meant to allow a gang rape on Ellie, and then, to cap the evening's entertainment for himself, to engage in anal intercourse with her.
His experience with Yvonne, far from sating him, stimulated him intolerably and caused him to hasten his plans considerably. Bobo Tolbert had kept track of Ellie, and when Burt found the two of them, Bobo was jacking off lazily and grinning at Ellie, who stared dumbly at Bobo's huge cock. It was apparent that Bobo had already ejaculated once, for come had spewed all over his legs. But Ellie didn't seem to be afraid of him at all.
"Save that," said Burt shortly. "You can use it on her in a minute."
Bobo grinned happily.
For a moment Burt didn't do anything at all. He stood there looking at Ellie. She had tatters of clothing on, but her blouse - or what there was of it - couldn't conceal the lovely mounds of white flesh that humped up under it, and one lovely nipple, a delicate rose in color, was visible where the cloth had been ripped away entirely. There was only a brief piece of cloth trying vainly to stretch across her womanly buttocks.
Even the panties had been torn, revealing firm, white flesh, unblemished - the kind of taut flesh that stirs seductively under tight clothes when a woman walks. From the front the panties showed a mound where Ellie's modest clump of pubic hair was hidden by beige panties.
Burt leered at her drunkenly for a few moments. Then, as if coming out of a trance, he grabbed her roughly and yelled at the people nearby. "We got a show, folks. We got a real show for you. You see in front of you, folks, something you haven't seen for a long time.
Look at her closely, folks, you don't see this kind anymore. Hey, Bob!" he called to one of the men. "Bob Sanders. I want you to come over here and look this piece of ass over real good, then admit in front of all these people that you haven't seen anything this goddamn good since you were big enough to lift up your peter without using your hands."
The man named Bob Sanders, a hulking fellow with a crewcut and a big belly, lurched over. He too was already more than slightly drunk. He reached out to touch Ellie, but Burt moved her away from him.
"Now tell me what you see, Bob. Tell the people what you see."
"She's a looker," said Sanders, turning to the crowd. "She's real good."
"But what else?" asked Burt, with an astonished expression on his face. "What else do you see? Come on, Bob. Don't kid around with the people." Then he turned to look at the crowd, a dismayed look on his face. "He doesn't see it," he told them. "It's really been so long for old Bob here that he doesn't recognize one. He doesn't recognize a real one, a live one, a - "
"What?" said Bob Sanders, growing irritated. "Why, a virgin. A real honest-to-God virgin.
And in this day and age."
The men guffawed and pressed closer.
As he entered the area where the party was taking place, Mike's first impression was one of an unhealthy atmosphere of lust and drunkenness. There were naked men and women everywhere, but oddly enough there were more women than men, and it seemed as if the women were more insatiable than the men. Couples rutted out in the open. Right near him a young girl, perhaps fifteen years old, was on her hands and knees, buttocks held high to receive the hard cock of a boy who couldn't have been more than thirteen. The boy was thrusting furiously, like a rabbit, with a quick, intense rhythm that had the girl writhing with ecstasy. Her face was strained, her eyes glazed. Her lovely breasts dangled under her like plump, ripe fruits.
Beyond them, two women were laying on top of a young man. The young man was evidently drunk, half asleep, and worn out. He looked disgruntled as the two women, frantically eager, sought to restore his jaded cock. The one woman was sucking his cock greedily, but couldn't get it hard; the other was trying to ram her cunt against his face while he struggled to evade her. Neither of them would let him get up. The young man was swearing in a complaining voice.
"I'm looking for a girl," said Mike to a young woman who came over to him, hips undulating, her face lit up in a seductive smile.
"I'm a girl," she said. She too was slightly drunk, and her fingers were sticky as she took his hand. He resisted when she brought his hand down to her crotch and rubbed it in the wet slot that her own hands had evidently been playing in, without satisfying her.
"Another time,", he said shortly. "Her name's Ellie Brighton. She's here with Burt Conroy."
"Why not now?" Her voice was low and breathless. "If she's with Burt she's probably busy anyway."
"Look, I've got to find her. Have you seen her?"
"Yeah," she said, annoyed now. "Burt's down that way, along with your girl. And I hope she breaks it for you."
Mike turned and ran. When he saw the crowd he ran to it and began pushing through people. A few men, drunk and truculent, tried to stop him, but he ignored their threats.
"Ellie!"
Ellie turned to him. Her face was streaked with tears. When she looked at him no trace of recognition showed in her face. Her young body sagged.
He took her by the hand. During the moment between his arrival and Burt Conroy's startled recognition of his intentions, he was able to get her away from him. Then Burt let out an angry roar. Mike knew Burt well enough to suspect that he was a bully, but somewhat cowardly, and yet he was determined not to get into a fight with him. There were enough men around - most of them drunk - that he couldn't risk a fight; the crowd just might choose to take up Burt's cause. But Mike's determination to avoid trouble vanished instantly when Burt grabbed him by the arm.
He turned and slapped his hand away. The crowd fell silent. For a moment the two of them faced each other. Burt too was breathing heavily, but he couldn't get up the determination to lash out at Mike, even though he obviously wanted to.
"You going to let him get away with this?" he demanded of the spectators.
It was the wrong thing to say. The spectators, a moment ago ready to take up Burt's cause, hooted and jeered at him. "I don't see you doing nothing," yelled one of the men.
"Come on, Burt, you're bigger than he is. Let's see a fight!"
Mike hesitated a moment. Then he said in an even voice. "We'll settle this another time, not now." But Burt, too drunk to be careful, took this for cowardice. For a moment he stood there, gathering his courage, then, as Mike turned away, he lashed out at him with his fist.
The blow caught Mike on the shoulder and sent him sprawling. In the next moment he was up. Burt closed on him, trying to get a good blow in and end the fight quickly. But when he swung, Mike ducked the blow easily and came in close, inside the bigger man's reach.
Neither man was an experienced fighter, but both were energetic and angry, and in their anger they neglected caution. Burt's heavy fist smashed against Mike's jaw, jolting him severely, and Burt stepped back quickly, realizing that his advantage lay in his greater reach. Mike, furious now, indifferent to the spectators and to everything but his need to take his revenge on Burt, closed in on his opponent. Quicker and more determined than Burt, he got inside on him quickly and - without regard for the beating he was taking - smashed his fists into Burt's ribs.
The big man grunted from the pain, while Mike, totally indifferent to the blows he was himself receiving, hit harder and harder, until it felt as if his arms must fall off.
Then Burt did something unexpected. One moment he was fighting with grim determination, the next moment he was actually running away and holding his ribs, his head down. When Mike yanked at his arm he fell to his knees, dropping his arms so that he was unprotected.
"Go ahead, hit me. I'm drunk, I can't fight you. You can hit me all you want now. I can't hit back."
Mike stepped back, outraged at finding himself stymied. The miserable creature in front of him, kneeling in front of the crowd, had made it impossible for him to fight any longer. He stood there just for a moment, his chest heaving, trying to think how he could goad Burt into fighting.
In that moment Don Pearce lunged across the clearing toward him, from behind. As Pearce moved - surprisingly fast for a man his size - Timmy Holstead watched him.
Pearce came within a yard of Timmy, running hard. He could already see himself slamming into Mike from behind, knocking him breathless so that he and Burt could stomp him. But as he passed Timmy, the boy, who had been watching him all along, stuck out his foot and caught him between the legs.
Pearce's momentum kept him going. He stumbled, skinned his knees on the ground, and went down hard on his face, ripping up the skin so that the blood burst out in a sudden, startling display.
Mike whirled and saw him lying there. The crowd, sobered by the sight of blood, stood there quietly. Two men went over and picked Pearce up. He looked faint, and blood was pouring down his face.
"Let's go," Mike muttered to Ellie.
They walked through the throng of naked men and women. On the way back to the trail, they saw others fucking out in the open, apparently oblivious to the fight that had just taken place. The two women were still working on the young man, but he was now sitting up, a dazed expression on his face, staring at the woman who had his cock in her mouth.
The other woman was behind him, rubbing his back with one hand and her cunt with the other. She looked anguished and impatient. The fifteen-year-old girl and her thirteen-year-old partner were still rutting openly. The girl was still on her hands and knees, buttocks held high, straining to reach her orgasm while the boy frantically pumped one load of hot jism after another into her.
The girl who had spoken to Mike came over, looking hopeful. "Take me along," she said.
"Take me along." Her nipples brushed Mike's arm.
"Another time," he said shortly, and half wished that he would see her again.
Nothing further happened until they had come halfway down the trail.
"Back so soon?" asked Claude Branch. He was sitting there in the dark, hidden from view as one came down the trail.
Mike stopped. "I wasn't just visiting," he said evenly. "Conroy made Ellie - oh, forget it. I don't give a damn what you or anyone else thinks." He turned to leave.
"Whoa, there. You don't have to get mad at me. I've got a bone to pick with somebody up there, that's all. I just don't like that whole crowd. When I saw you going up there, I just naturally assumed, well, that you were one of them. It bothered me because my cousin told me you were a pretty good guy."
"Your cousin -?"
"Yeah. She was up here for a few weeks. Then one day she came home and called me up. She was all bruised. I said I'd have a little talk with the guy who did it to her."
Mike stood there, frowning and trying to think who it could be. Then something caught in his mind. He nodded. "Shirley," he said. "Shirley left without any notice, and you came up and took her cabin."
Claude Branch nodded.
"But who did it to her? I didn't hear anything."
Branch said softly, "Your friend Burt Conroy. Shirley's kind of wild, but she's also pretty innocent about a lot of things. She went on a ride with Conroy on his bike and he raped her."
"Jesus," said Mike. "And that's why you're waiting up here."
"That's why. I gather Burt worked over Ellie here."
Mike nodded. "Yeah. And I kind of worked over Burt."
"Just so you left something for me," said the big man. "I came a long way for this."
"I don't blame you," said Mike quietly. He took Ellie by the hand and began to lead her down the mountainside.
"Hey, partner!" Claude Branch called after him.
Mike turned around.
"Keep it under your hat, will you?"
Mike nodded before turning and walking away, his arm around Ellie. She was shivering and held him tight as they walked down the steep trail.