Lost in Texas Ch. 01

The following story is (not) inspired by true events. In Oubliette County, TX (which doesn't actually exist, so put your maps away) in the early years of the twenty-first century, three young college coeds (to whom any perceived similarity to real people, living or dead, is unintended and purely coincidental) were on their way to their summer jobs as counselors at a religious-based band camp. But the after taking a wrong turn, their (fictional) lives were changed forever. Here is their story (which I made up).

(P.s. If you hadn't figured out by now, this didn't happen. This is a work of fiction. There's going to be a lot of sex in this story. If you don't like that sort of thing, then stop reading . . . NOW!)

This is a really long story, by the way. If you want immediate gratification, you might want to skip it.

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"Lost in Texas" Part 1

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"We are so TOTALLY lost," whined Laurie for the one-hundredth time in one hour. Alice and Heather both groaned. Actually being lost was bad enough. Getting color commentary about being lost was almost intolerable. After hearing nothing new hour after hour, the other two girls felt like they might as well have been watching CNN.

"Would you PLEASE shut up?" groaned Heather. She was so tempted to light up a cigarette and scorch the other girl's tongue with it. At least then she could make fun of the comical sounds coming out of the girl's mouth.

"Now there's no need to be uncivil," chimed in Alice. "After all, we're all . . ."

" . . . God's children," the other two girls finished. "Yes," continued Heather, "we know, because you mention that at the top of every hour!"

This bickering is what had landed them into their current predicament. The three young women had disliked each other from the moment they first laid eyes on each other. All three of them were college freshman majoring in music. The dean of the department had informed them that a religious organization was putting on a month long music camp for children of local church-goers over the summer, and that any of his students that wanted to could apply to be camp counselors. In return, they would not only get paid but receive course credit as well. Most people had turned down the idea, as they had other plans for their summer vacations besides babysitting a bunch of religious kids. But about a dozen had agreed to do it, and it had been left up to them to arrange transportation, which the camp would reimburse them for. The camp was near a place called Clear Lake, and was about a twenty-hour drive. The other volunteers had all found traveling companions, as none of them wanted anything to do with the ‘unholy trinity,' leaving the three of them forced to share a ride to the camp.

Heather, Alice and Laurie had all been taking the same lab for one of their basic music classes, and had been forced by random assignment to be in the same group. And their personalities mixed like gasoline and matches.

Laurie could best be described as a princess. She was tall, blonde and large in the breasts while slim in the hips. And the other girls were convinced that she was completely devoid of the gift of thought. She was so used to her mommy and daddy handing her anything she wanted on a silver platter that she was almost incapable of doing things for herself. Everything she wore had a designer label on it and cost more than most people spent on their entire wardrobes. And when things didn't go her way, she whined. A lot. Her car had actually broken down just before the trip, forcing her to ride with the other two girls.

Heather looked like she was plucked from a b-grade biker flick. She always wore grungy looking clothes, heavy metal t-shirts and goth make-up. She was a little shorter than Laurie and not quite so bodacious, but she caught her fair share of stairs, whistles and catcalls. A lot of those boys wound up suffering for their disrespect with bloody noses. While Laurie had probably never lifted a finger except to use her cell phone, Heather was used to a lifetime of labor. Her parents were poor and her father was an alcoholic, so she had to earn everything she had in life. She had been playing lacrosse since high school, mostly because she liked hitting other girls with large sticks, and there weren't any hockey teams where she grew up. She considered herself to be a rebel. She had gotten her tongue, ears and nose all pierced, leaving her with enough metal on her face to set off metal detectors at airports. She had a tattoo of a snake that went from just above one hand, up her arm, across her shoulders and down the other side. She called it her "Midgard Serpent." She had long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Her body was lean and muscular, and she had a teardrop ass that many men (quietly) drooled over. Heather and Laurie were sitting up in the front of the jeep, as they tolerated each other only slightly more than they tolerated Alice. That and while she may have been dumb as a post, Laurie was easy on the eyes and Heather was openly bisexual.

And then their was Alice, who could was often described as nondescript. She had shoulder-length, plain brown hair. She always wore non-revealing and plain clothes, and she never wore makeup. She was actually somewhat pretty, though her overall presence was so drab that most people never gave her a second glance. She had gentle but generous curves which no one except her had probably ever seen. She seemed devoutly religious, quoting the scriptures with frightening regularity. It drove the other two girls completely insane.

They had been driving for hours through the vast emptiness of central Texas, with only low hills and the occasional shrub to break up the monotony. Unfortunately, they had entrusted their road map to Laurie. In a fit of typical Laurie brilliance, she had lost it trying to swat a fly. She had pursued the hapless insect outside the car while attempting to shuffle it loose this mortal coil. Heather, with great volume and no small amount of foul language, attempted to explain that once the offending bug was outside the car, it was no longer necessary to plot its death. At that point, Laurie had lost her grip on the map, which fluttered off the bridge they were crossing and into the creek below. Heather had then adopted the policy of taking whichever road led in the general direction of south, before finally and grudgingly admitting she had no idea where ‘south' was, as the sun was almost directly overhead. As afternoon and evening progressed, they found that they had actually been heading almost directly west, and were probably no closer to their final destination than when they started.

It was getting late and they were getting desperate. Heather saw a one-lane dirt road she assumed was a county highway that appeared to be heading south, so she took the turn. After following it for half an hour with no signs of civilization, Heather admitted to having made another wrong turn. Then, the hood of Heather's old jeep erupted in smoke and steam and the car started jerking as it began decelerating. The vehicle came to a complete stop and they all scrambled to get out. Heather grabbed a rag out of the front seat and managed to get the hood open. It was hard to make out the problem at first, as there was more smoke drifting around than at the back room of a college frat party. Eventually, she discerned the culprit. She had just shot a rod through the entire engine.

"What the . . ."she started. That shouldn't have happened! The engine had been fine! Unless . . . "Laurie," she said from between clenched teeth, "did you put oil in this morning like I asked?"

"Yep!" the girl said, her lips smacking as she chewed her gum like a cow with its cud.

Heather glanced back into the car, staring around until she noticed something rather disturbing. The normally blue liquid in the windshield washer reservoir was incredibly dark and murky. "YOU IDIOT!" she screamed, looking for a stick or something with which to bludgeon the blonde girl with. "YOU PUT OIL IN WITH THE WINDSHIELD-WIPER FLUID!"

Even a dumb animal like Laurie instinctively realized the presence of a predator, and she tore off down the road with the black-haired girl in hot pursuit. Alice chased after them, screaming something about forgiveness and understanding. Both the predator and prey screamed at her to shut the hell up.

Alice finally stopped. "C'mon," she yelled. "It's not THAT bad, is it?"

At that exact moment, the jeep seemed to catch fire. Heather screamed and ran to grab the extinguisher out of the back of the jeep. Since the flames were coming from the front, she was able to retrieve the device and hose down the flames before the jeep exploded. Once the vehicle was stabilized, she threw the extinguisher to the ground, mourning the demise of her car.

Alice turned to look Heather. Heather turned to look at Laurie. Laurie turned and ran like hell down the road. Heather and Alice both gave chase, but this time Alice wasn't thinking about forgiveness. She wanted to ring that bimbo's neck. Then a pair of headlights penetrating the encroaching darkness and a truck pulled up. The vehicle appeared to be a vintage Ford truck, though only Heather appreciated that fact.

"Oh dear Lord," Alice muttered. "It's probably some inbred farmer whose come to rape and kill us and dump our bodies in with his pigs so they can devour the evidence."

Heather and Laurie, who had stopped running, both turned and looked at her. "Where the hell do you come up with this shit?" said Heather with a look of incredulity on her face.

"There's no need to cuss," Alice replied primly.

"Shut up!" the other two girls said simultaneously.

The truck came to a complete stop, and then a stunningly beautiful young woman climbed out of the cab. She was a slim girl with long legs extending from her Daisy Duke cut-offs. She wore a plaid shirt that was tied off above the navel, exposing a trim waist and narrow hips. She had small, pert breasts that were partially exposed as the shirt didn't seem to be actually buttoned. She had curly, pale-blonde hair that fell all the way to her waistline, which was kept out of her eyes by a red bandana. She also seemed to be carrying a shotgun, which everyone was able to appreciate.

"Hi," the girl said in a bubbly fashion that seemed quite out of place from someone holding a weapon. "I'm sorry, but you all are on private property, so we're gonna have to ask your business." The three girls just stared at her. "Hello? Anyone in there? Did . . .Oh, the gun. Sorry, we got a little nervous when we saw the flames." The girl put the shotgun in the rack on the rear window of the truck.

"She keeps saying ‘we'," whispered Alice. "She must be one of those psychos who live on their own and make soup bowls out the skulls of dead animals."

"Shut up!" the other girls said again.

"Actually," interrupted the new woman, "I was referring to my girlfriends and I. We live on a farm a mile down the road. This is our driveway. And my hearing is quite good."

"Well, the short story is my jeep blew a rod, exploded, and now we're stuck out here. We were on our way to Clear Lake so we could . . ."

"Clear Lake?" the girl interrupted. "You are heading in the way-wrong direction girls. You're on the wrong side of the state for that."

Heather gave a dirty look to Laurie, Alice gave a dirty look to Heather, and Laurie looked at the dirt underneath her shoes.

"Look," said Heather at last. "Could we borrow your phone or something? We need to get a hold of the people at the camp and let them know what happened and then I need to call my insurance. Too bad my policy doesn't cover acts of BLATANT STUPIDITY!" she screamed at Laurie.

"Man, I sense some totally negative energy here. You should just chill. Sure, you can borrow the phone. Oh, where are my manners. My name is Fredericka, but you can call me Freddie. So anyone who doesn't want to stand around like a silly-nilly in the middle of a dirt road all night, hop in the truck. I can take one other person up front with me and the other two can hop in the back. The three girls grabbed their singed and smoldering suitcases, and then Laurie instantly lunged into the passenger seat so she could be next to the one person who didn't want to kill her. The other two climbed into the back, and Fredericka headed back down the road.

As the truck moved along, Alice started complaining again. "I think she's one of those lesbians," she said.

Heather rolled her eyes. "So am I you twit!"

"I thought you were a bicycle?"

"That's ‘bisexual.' Friggin' moron."

"There is no need to be crass. But it means you like guys sometimes too, right? So you could still be saved?" There was almost an air of desperation to the question.

"It's not something you can be ‘saved' from, you sanctimonious windbag. Now say one more word and I'll throw you out of the back of the truck." That threat would have been much more convincing if the truck weren't in the process of stopping.

They had arrived in what appeared to be a ghost town. There were boarded up old buildings and a smattering of derelict houses. "You live here?" asked Laurie with some contempt. They were parked in front of what appeared to be an Old West saloon. It appeared to be an all-wooden structure that was in miscellaneous states of repair.

"No, we live down there. Last house on the left." The house Fredericka was pointing at was a well maintained, two-story, gothic-style house. A white picket fence and a number of flower gardens surrounded it. "I parked down here because the sound of this thing's engine gives Jane a headache. We don't know why." She escorted the trio of frightened young women to the very comfy looking house. Heather noticed the young woman always seemed to have a spring in her step and was prone to random acts of twirling.

When they got to the front of the house, there was a woman waiting on the porch. From the moment the three girl's eyes locked on that that woman, they realized that her presence almost screamed elegance. She was older than their rescuer, appearing to be in her early to mid thirties. She had straight, silky and smooth brown hair, and deep amber eyes. She had high cheekbones and a neck that might well be described as delicate. She was easily six feet tall, and she appeared to have a lithe figure with delicate curves under her silk gown.

"Thank you for remembering to park down the street, young one."

"No problem. I know how your headaches can get." Fredericka bounded up the steps and gave the graceful woman an almost childlike hug. But the kiss they promptly exchanged was far more mature.

"Unfortunately, Michelle's chores have made more than enough noise. But enough of that. Who are these lovely young ladies and how did they come our way?"

The three girls were almost in awe of the woman's presence. Her voice was perfectly clear and her manner of speaking was noble and articulate.

"Their car exploded. I'll let them explain the rest."

"Very well. Please go get Michelle and let her know that dinner is almost ready." The woman turned to the three newcomers. "Again, where are my manners? My name is Jane Voorhees, and this is my humble home," she said with a graceful wave of an arm. "Might I inquire as to the nature of your plight?"

"No, we weren't flying, we were driving," said Laurie while smacking her gum.

"She said ‘plight,' not ‘flight,'" interjected Heather tiredly. "The short story is, we were on our way to Clear Lake to work as counselors for a religious-based band camp. We got lost . . . apparently, really lost . . . on our way. I took this road hoping that it might lead us in the general direction of where we wanted to be. Then my jeep blew a rod, and then it exploded."

"My," said Jane, her eyes wide as saucers. "You might consider yourselves fortunate to have escaped unharmed."

"I guess so," Heather muttered. "Anyway, could we borrow your phone? We need to call the camp, call my insurance people . . ."

"Yes, yes. Of course you can make use of our facilities. We will do whatever we can to assist you. And I insist on you joining us for dinner. I always make extra anyway. We're having the most delightful chicken parmesan, fresh garlic bread and assorted greens. I hope that will be to your liking."

The three girls were practically drooling, as none of them had eaten since early that morning.

"There you go," boomed a voice from behind them. "You're feedin' strays again. Ya know that once they've tasted yer cookin', they just don't seem to leave!" The woman from whom the voice emanated emerged from the shadows behind them. The woman, who they assumed was Michelle, was huge. Not as in fat, but as in strong enough to throw a beer keg over a ten-foot wall as if she were playing volleyball. Heather was convinced the woman had been a bodybuilder at some point in her past. She was thicker in the midsection than most women she knew. Her arms were obviously powerful, her neck and shoulders were well-muscled and her face was a bit broader than the other two. But she was still a handsome woman, and she had the look of someone who, while powerful, had retired from active competition. She was wearing a leather smock that was stained in many places with a dark substance. The smock was straining against the woman's more-than-ample chest. Heather had known some heavy lifters who got breast augmentation, so the woman's bust-size didn't surprise her. Michelle had spiky and short red hair, and she was just a few inches shorter than Jane. Fredericka came bounding up beside the intimidating woman, and Michelle blatantly grabbed her ass as she went by. The younger woman just smiled and continued up the steps and into the house.

Jane spoke to her as she went in, "Please set an additional three places for dinner. We have company."

The ‘company' was taken aback by it all. This was like some crazy dream. They just hoped it didn't turn into a nightmare.

Jane spoke to them directly. "It might be a few minutes before dinner is ready. If you'd like, you could start making your telephone inquiries while we wait." She escorted the three girls into the house. Even Laurie, a fashion snob, was impressed.

The interior of the house was immaculately clean and tastefully decorated. There were vases full of flowers and paintings decorated the walls. The whole thing just seemed . . . well, homey.

Alice was terrified. She kept looking at the muscular woman's smock. "Does that look like blood to you?" she asked of Heather as her eyes traveled up and down Michelle's front. Heather rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me . . . Michelle? This person next to me was wondering if that's blood on your apron from some murder victim or another?"

Jane and Freddie stopped in their tracks with looks of utter bemusement. Alice looked absolutely embarrassed. Michelle seemed to be pondering the question seriously.

"Murder victim? Is it Friday already?" Then she smiled a big, Texas-sized grin. "Nah. A lot of it is from when I was using the chainsaw earlier, but what I was cuttin' up was already dead."

Alice gasped and looked ready to panic.

"Calm down! Damn this one is fun to play with! I was cuttin' down standin' deadwood sweetie. Leave it up and it turns into a fire hazard, and we've had a dry summer already. Wound up with a leak in the chain lubricant reservoir, and I got the shit all over me."

Alice blushed, but whether from making a fool of herself or being called ‘sweetie' by the powerful woman was a bit of a mystery to her.

Heather got on the phone and utilized a calling card to get a hold of someone at the camp. She told them of the situation and asked if someone might be able to come pick them up. Unfortunately, the camp wasn't able to use the few vans it actually owned for non-camp activities, and none of the other counselors seemed willing to make the drive. Heather hung up the phone, bitterly cursing the whole lot of those hypocritical bastards under her breath. She then talked to her insurance company. The representative couldn't help laughing when he heard about what had happened to the vehicle, which his client found less than amusing. He then informed her that, just as she had suspected, her policy didn't cover that particular situation, but he did advise her to pursue the matter in civil court. At least that was a helpful suggestion, and she hung up the phone.