Fresh Meat

The pub had cold beer and counter lunches. The bony, leather skinned old woman behind the bar cooked up a thick tomato and cheese omelette that tasted good. Brad added a stack of freshly baked bread and filled up his empty belly to the point he needed a nap before he could drive on. The woman had updated his mud map with the local knowledge needed to find the way back to the main highway headed east.

There was a huge shade tree over behind the pub. He and Isabel wound their seats back and slept soundly for a few hours. Isabel had said she did not sleep at all in the cabin, which explained why she had been dosing all morning and had no trouble sleeping on into the afternoon.

Brad woke first at about two o'clock, sweaty and cramped. He strolled over to the general store and brought back chips, jelly snakes and drinks. Isabel stirred, stretching and yawning. She fixed her hair back then buckled up her seat belt.

"You smell like a man," she said. "I think we need to find somewhere."

"Somewhere?" Brad started the 4WD.

"Uh huh. Somewhere with no one watching," Isabel clarified.

"So we can?" Brad made a ring with his thumb and finger and poked his other finger through.

Isabel nodded, grinning. "Don't you want to?"

The food and sleep had worked for Brad. There had been ample recovery time since the sex early that morning.

"I smell like a man?" he enquired.

She nodded again. "Yes. It's very nice."

"You smell like lollies," he told her, and she giggled. He then reached into her dress and felt her breast, making her moan softly and close her eyes.

Off the road a ways, there was a grove of gum trees and a pond with lush grass and nice cool shade. Brad spread out a huge towel he had packed in his bag. Isabel sat down and he bent to her, kissing her lips and searching her warm sweet mouth. "Damn straight, I want to keep you," he breathed into her as he tasted her again, that time claiming her wrists and pinning them above her head, making her writhe and moan some more.

He held her in a kiss while releasing the buttons of her dress, gently twisting each one and slowly revealing her breasts and belly. Then he opened her clothing completely, and cupped her little pink panties with his fingers gripping firmly as he kissed her neck and then sucked on one of her breasts.

A car was passing. They were far enough from the road to be inconspicuous. Brad waited, watching it until it had gone by. Isabel was just peering up at him, her dark eyes wide and huge, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling; shuddering slightly as he bent to kiss her again.

"I like these ones," he commented, tracing a finger down her belly to the tiny satin bow on the waist band of her panties. "They're very pretty."

She bit her lip. "Can we shop for some underwear too?"

"We can," he answered, slipping a finger beneath the bow and tugging downward.

She lifted and allowed him to pull her underwear down. He removed them from her legs then stripped his shirt and opened his jeans. She watched him, her eyes roving his body as he undressed for her, and widening as his erection sprung free and levered slightly upward. It was swollen and roped in veins. Brad could feel the tightness in it, the dull ache of being so powerfully erect, and the numbing sensation from such recent love making that meant he could last an hour here if necessary.

He lowered between her thighs and entered her, sliding in slowly and firmly, lifting her off the towel and impaling her on his shaft. She gripped his neck and moaned into his shoulder. He rolled his hips and skewered her again, her wet heat swirling around his penis, sucking on it and drawing him in deeper. He kissed her hair and her face and her eyes before she bit into his other shoulder, and he ground into her again. He held the top of her head, keeping her slender young body in place as he surged into her tight little opening again. She cried out that time and dug her fingernails into his back, clinging to him as he settled into a steady rhythm of deep penetrating insertions, each culminating in an intense grinding action that met the pressure of her pelvis bearing down and wetly rubbing back against him.

Brad mated with the girl he would be taking home to keep. He humped her mercilessly through her first, full body clenching orgasm. Then he turned her over and mounted her on her knees and elbows, riding her through several more highly vocal orgasms before his own climax had him squashing her flat and gripping his toes into the grass to force himself more fully into the swirling, pulsing heat of their coupling.

He collapsed upon her back with her hand behind his head, her fingers in his hair. He was heaving for breath and she was panting. Their bodies were soaked and squishing together.

"Some men don't want you anymore after they have you," she said.

Minutes had passed with Brad having slipped from her back and keeping her cuddled up in front of him. He sought her face and her lips, kissing that silly notion away. "Well I want to take you home to keep, so we had better get back on the road."

She giggled. He helped her up and they dressed and pulled out the new mud map. An hour later Isabel was sleeping soundly in the passenger seat and Brad was stopped at an unmarked intersection with yet another blind choice to make. The intersection was not on his map, or perhaps it was but he had lost track of where on the map he was at. The sun was dipping into the west and his fuel gauge was halfway between the E and the ¼ dot. He spun left and hoped for the best.

After another hour and two more unmarked crossroads, the fuel gauge was on empty and there was a right turn with a signpost saying Athol Grove 25. It was a broader road, offering the promise of an end to what was becoming a very worrisome situation. It had been a long while since the last building of any description or passing car.

Isabel was still sleeping peacefully. Brad swung right and drove on steadily, hoping to get as far as he could before running out of fuel. The trip computer offered another nine kilometres as he pressed the button to check again.

The road was straight and smooth for a while. The sun dipped behind the mallee trees. The road curved one way and back the other, then it entered a grove of pines and crossed a small stream. The 4WD spluttered and coughed, the engine failing as the pine trees parted to reveal a candy striped awning.

Brad rolled off to the side of the road and pulled the hand brake on. He recognised the awning and the old service station. His mind ticked over. Athol Grove would be the first turn-off that he had missed that morning. Just before the stream was where he had shot through the scrub and landed on the road in the first place. It was an hour back to Kangaroo Flat from there and he knew the way the heck out of the mallee scrub from that point.

There was a fuel can in back that held twenty litres. He had seen a diesel tank next to the big workshop; fuel for the tractor that he had brought the part for no doubt. He had done a runner that morning but he had left forty dollars on the table in the cabin when the tariff for the night was posted at just twenty-five. Surely the old man would have found that to his satisfaction, realising that they had not taken off without paying.

Brad quietly got out and claimed the fuel can from in back. He wondered whether he should leave Isabel sleeping but thought better of it, in case she woke and was frightened to be there alone. He leant across and squeezed her knee. She stirred. "Hey, pretty girl, I have to get some fuel. We ran out. I'll be back in a minute."

She yawned, peering around. Her light smile ended as horror washed over her face. "No—you can't!" she whispered anxiously. "You can't! You can't go there!"

"No, it's fine. They'll be okay," Brad assured her. "I paid for last night. I'll just go buy a few litres and we're fine now. I know where we are."

"But you mustn't. They'll be so hungry!"

"Hungry?"

"I mean angry. They'll be so angry," Isabel implored.

Brad was on his way though. "It's fine. Just wait there—I'll be five minutes," he called back, chuckling, and he hurried along and through the trees towards the service station.

***

Isabel reefed at the seatbelt and was about to run after him when Papa opened her door and leant with a foot on the side-step. "What you doing, Girl?" he asked mildly. "Where you been all day?"

Isabel swallowed at the dry lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "Um."

Papa chuckled. "You got my smokes in here?" He lifted her shoulder bag and found his Peter Jackson cigarettes.

Isabel was trying to see Brad through the trees but had lost sight of him. "Where's Boy?" she uttered, sniffling as tears welled.

"Boy's waiting," Papa said easily. "You know that was a mean trick you played on him, don't you, Girl? And you know Boy gets cruel when he's hungry."

"Is Boy hungry?" Isabel snivelled. "Is he?"

"Ran clean out of meat yesterday," Papa said, blowing a thick cloud of smoke and making rings with a click of his whiskery jaw. "Had to kill one of your chickens, so that means less eggs for you, and you know it's not the same anyway. Not the same as red meat."

Papa limped around the 4WD and got up into the driver's seat. "But you did good, Girl. You brought him back and everything's going to be fine now. Except you need to tend to Mama. You know she gets the punishment when you do bad things. You're going have to tend to Mama and mend her up again."

There was a loud bang and then a guttural scream. Papa jerked upright, busting his cigarette on the steering wheel. There was another long, pain-stricken howl that was most definitely Boy.

***

Brad ducked as the axe flew through the air, just missing his head. The giant staggered towards him, arms out, hands clutching. The spike from the broken rake handle was sticking out of his stomach. It must have pierced his lower back and gone straight through. Before he lunged again, Brad leapt forward, planting his left foot and levering his weight back to drive his right foot into the giant's gut, propelling his massive frame backwards and causing him to stumble and land heavily on his back with the spike driving through further and drawing another bellowing scream.

Surely he couldn't get up again. He had come at Brad with the axe and tried to murder him. Brad had put the monster on his back three times, the first fall impaling him on the rake handle.

There was a deafening bang from behind Brad. He jumped and spun to see the old man with eyes bulging out of his head and the axe in his raised hands. He fell forward onto the concrete floor of the workshop. His eyes had been bulging because the back of his head was blown off. There was a short, haggard looking old woman left standing there with a smoking twelve-gauge double barrel shotgun in her hands.

Brad met her eyes. Her face was all banged up. She jerked her head, motioning for him to move or something. He got to his feet and backed against the wall of the building.

The giant bellowed again, clutching at the bloody rake handle. The old woman levelled the twelve-gauge and it boomed again, smashing the giant's face and driving him back to the floor, twitching and convulsing.

Brad met the old woman's eyes once more. He raised his hands. She gave him a crooked half smile, dropped the gun and walked away. He cautiously followed to the workshop doorway and watched from there. She entered the house and returned a moment later with a suit case. She tossed that into the back of an F100 pickup and jumped into the driver's seat. The vehicle roared to life and sprayed gravel out through the open gates and onto the road headed for Athol Grove, or wherever.

Brad took a breath. He had forgotten to breathe the past few minutes. He wondered whether there were any more weirdo people in the house or around anywhere; whether he was safe or would need to practice some more Karate, or maybe dodge a bullet or two. There was no movement in the house that he could see. After a moment, flames started licking out one of the windows and it looked like fire had taken hold in a few of the rooms.

He filled his fuel can and hurried back to meet Isabel in the trees. She jumped on him, wrapping herself around him and kissing him wildly.

"Come on. We have to get out of here," he said, pulling her along towards the 4WD.

"What? What happened?"

"They're frigging crazy. That huge dude tried to kill me. Then the old man was having a swing with the axe, and the old woman shot both of them and took off. The house is on fire. We have to get out of here!"

"She shot them? Are they dead?" Isabel was jogging to keep up.

"Dead as you get. Both with their heads blown off."

Brad flipped the fuel cap and tipped the can up. Isabel jumped up into her seat and closed the door. The motor wound a bit before firing up. "I think I might get some more fuel. It should take a while before the cops and fireys show up."

"Uh huh," Isabel grabbed his hand and clutched it in her lap. He glanced at her. She was smiling at him, her big brown eyes wide and shining in the light from the burning house as he pulled up at the fuel tank.

He got out and hooked the hose up to fill the 4WD. It was a thin, gravity fed hose and would take a while. Isabel ran from the vehicle to the cabin they had stayed in. Brad wondered, but figured she must need the toilet or something. She emerged with a big suitcase in one hand and a couple of sacks in her other hand. They were pillow cases stuffed full of something or other, Brad noticed as she loaded them into the back of the vehicle. Well, this lot are all dead, so why the heck not?

As soon as the 4WD was in gear she claimed his hand, holding it in her lap and smiling with those big brown eyes. "Do you really want to keep me?" she asked sweetly.

He smiled back at her, spraying gravel as he spun out onto the road. "Do I want to keep you?" he said, wiggling his fingers in her lap, feeling into her moist heat and making her squirm. "Oh yeah!"

End