Arcturus Syndrome Ch. 13

Author's Note: All characters are over the age of eighteen. This is a work of fiction: any resemblance to person's living or dead is coincidence. Any resemblance to Charlston WV that is not coincidence is the result of Google maps.

Recap: Carl and Ruth are on the run, escapees from the Quarantine Zone around Philipsburg. They have so far eluded the authorities. Their crime spree has involved small scams, cons, and one sex-spree at a funeral home, where Carl rudely refused to let Ruth keep the Funeral Home office manager, Amber. They are now in West Virginia, on the road to Charleston. They don't listen to the broadcast, but the President has just declared a state of emergency - not mentioning the true state of affairs (an extra-terrestrial disease that induces unstoppable sexual craving, and initially resulted in a lot of deaths, although for reasons that scientists are still pursuing, this result has been diminishing); instead the President has declared that terrorists are holding the town hostage with some kind of nuclear device.

>>> Day 2 - Afternoon/Evening: Carl & Ruth

Ruth rode the girl's face like it was a rodeo, while Carl held her ankles and rammed himself into her. Her cries were muffled, but it was pure pleasure.

Ruth had been pouting about Amber all along the drive to Charlston, only pausing while they swapped cars with some hick.

("Again?" Ruth had complained. Carl: "Too much risk Amber or Salvator are going to phone it in, or get caught in the net. We need to stay ahead of the game.")

But her main complaint was she wanted a woman.

"That Amber, I just... I could smell her, you know."

They took the curves through the West Virginia hills at a cautious eight mph over the speed limit. Pickup trucks blew past them with enough speed the draft shook their car, now a somewhat worse-for-wear Chevy Malibou.

Everything was green. Lush, green, and a whole lot of empty.

"Let's just get ourselves a girl for tonight, ok? We don't have to keep her."

Carl kept current with his electrolytes, and strung her along. "We need to keep under the radar. We can't afford more Ambers or Salvators, not until we put more distance behind us. Each contact we make is a risk."

"Oh, come on, you want a girl as much as I do, I'll share her."

Carl kept a straight face. "We'll see. I don't think it's a good idea, but maybe if the opportunity shows itself. What do you want a girl for anyway?"

Ruth explained in detail what she wanted a girl for, and then refused to help Carl out with his erection unless he promised to make it happen.

* * *

During one silent stretch, Carl found himself in a deep appreciation for these incredibly smooth, practically manicured West Virginia roads. Pristine condition, beautiful banked curves. A true pleasure to drive. Then he noticed Ruth.

"What are you doing on the phone?"

Ruth was scrolling, scrolling.

"I told you, I'm looking for a girl."

"On Tinder?"

"Yeah, I'm pretending to be you."

"You know that's how the Ukrainians tracked the Russian invasion right? The Ukrainian girls pretended to want to hook up with Russian guys, tracked their advance."

Ruth shrugged. "You know, we're probably going to be caught anyway. Everyone always is."

"I wasn't," Carl pointed out.

"As I understand it, no one was looking. They're hunting us right now, and these hunters? They find their quarry. Plus, there's my husband. We are practically Thelma and Louise."

"I was thinking more Bonnie and Clyde."

"Sounds like you also think we're gonna die at the end of this."

"There's a pretty good chance. And as far as I'm concerned, I should have died back there. From this ... whatever it is. This time with you..." Carl waved at the lush green hills passing around them. "This drive? This is pure gravy."

Ruth was silent for a while.

"I was always such a good girl, and it always went wrong. Did you ever hear of Vexalon Energy?"

"Only some minor scandal. Cheating at dynamic pricing or something?"

"Yeah, that was me. Or rather, I was the whistleblower. I imagined I would reveal the sorry truth of those half-wits and incompetents, which I did, more or less, but it all turned to shit for me. They weren't very smart at either the crime or the cover up, but they were spot on with the revenge. My life was wrecked. And witness protection? Let me tell you, that's a shitshow. So I dropped out. Tried my own kind of disappear, but I didn't know what I was doing. Things got dicy and soon I found myself on the wrong side, which is where I met Yuri."

"Christ. I knew it was the Russians. You know you're in deep shit when both the American government AND Russian criminals are after you."

"Yuri's actually Israeli, but it's the same difference. You're not wrong."

"And you were cheating on this guy?"

"Yuri lost interest in me within months. I was an ornament. And I... I didn't know who I was anymore. But he doesn't let people take his things. So, yeah, he'll be looking for me. And I'm sorry to say, it won't be that hard to trace me to Philipsburg."

"Well, he'll have to be pretty sharp to track us past Philipsburg, unless he also has a tap on every phone, an eye in every sky, cameras on every corner, and AI's scrubbing every financial record."

"True, he's not the NSA, but he can be clever. I loved his tenacity and even, in a way, his brutality. He was exciting. I guess I wasn't."

Carl took a long look at her, watching her stare off into the wooded hills.

"I know a guy in Athens," Carl said. "He can build us new identities. It takes money, and a little time, but he's really good. If we don't go out in a blaze of glory, we can find another backwater to settle in. This trip is either short and exciting or long and boring. I don't see any middle. This country is big enough to get lost in, if they stop looking. Maybe things die down, and we become another footnote in another folder."

Ruth didn't acknowledge his train of thought. Still staring out the window: "The weird thing is, I feel most alive right now. More than any time I can remember. My body has... changed. I feel this vibrancy. I don't want to just fade into the wallpaper. I want to really live. For once in my life, I just want to live. And if that lasts a couple of days, it will be the best days of my life, and I'm good with that."

Carl let that sink in.

"I feel it, too. I know what you mean. I'm a porn-star superhero compared to who I was a week ago. And I love it. I feel like there's more we should be doing with this. But the only thing I know how to do is run away. And I'm good at that. So let's compromise a little and see how long we can keep our run going."

"I still want a girl."

"Charleston here we come." Carl felt his balls heavy between his thighs.

* * *

Jasmine watched over Chrissie's shoulder.

"No. No. No. No. Definitely not. Wait, you swiped right on that?"

"I like an older man."

Jasmine wrinkled her nose. "If he has money, maybe. That guy looked like a construction worker. And a photo while driving a car? That's just weird. Who does that?"

Chrissie shrugged and kept swiping.

Jasmine continued her commentary: "Anyway, why is anyone dating right now? No. No. Not that guy. We have Iranian terrorists or something up the road in Pennsylvania, and you want to go on dates? No. No. No... Ok, that guy... What was wrong with that guy?"

"I don't want another football player. Those clean-cut twenty year old's are guaranteed to be assholes. And they don't know how to kiss. Perfect time to be dating. Sex and death. Affirmation of life."

Jasmine sighed. "You're weird. And that guy? He was pretty good looking!"

"You swipe whatever way you want... on your app."

Jasmine pouted. "It's so much more fun to criticize you, though."

"It's all about the window shopping anyway," Chrissie said. "We're going to settle down with a couple of guys from a hardware store or something. The kind of we meet at the roadhouse. Or I am anyway. You could do better."

Jasmine scrunched up her face. "Don't say that. You're pretty."

"I am plain, Jasmine. And that's a fact. Too much belly, boobs are too small, this hair does nothing, I've got no ass at all."

"You've had more boyfriends than I have!"

"Um, you have had no boyfriends."

"There was Tom," Jasmine objected. "I dated him for quite a while."

"Tom was gay. Did you do anything more than kiss?"

"As a matter of fact, we did. And he liked it. He was... bi."

"He was gay as a goose."

"And there was Chuck."

"Nobody dates guys named Chuck. That was high school, and Chuck is Charles now and married to Betty and how long did you date Chuck? For an hour before and after Senior Prom?"

Jasmine pouted again.

Chrissie put her phone down and turned to face her friend.

"Jasmine, you are smoking hot and you know it. You can have any guy in town? Why are you single?"

Jasmine averted her gaze. "I'm just not ready, I guess. I'm no virgin, if that's what you're asking. I've had some experience. Enough to know that I want to hold out for a good man, someone who is nice, someone who is tender, someone who is loving. I'm not criticizing you, really I'm not. You should have as much fun as you want. I just don't want some hookup. I want something meaningful."

Chrissie shook her head. "Wish we could trade bodies then, because that bod was made for fun. And you're not even a crazy psycho-christian."

"Yeah, it's not that, it's just..."

And then Chrissie's phone chimed.

"Ewww. It's the old guy in the car," Jasmine said.

"He's not old." Chrissie opened the profile. "He's thirty five. Not even old enough to be my father."

"Just a creepy uncle," Jasmine said.

"He's typing," Chrissie said, watching the dots dance.

\\ Hey, thanks for swiping right. Gonna be in town this evening, you down for some fun?

"Eww," Jasmine groaned. "What a sleeze."

"Get's straight to the point tho, saves time," Chrissie noted.

Chrissie typed back: \\ What do you have in mind?

"You are not saying yes," Jasmine said. "This guy could be a sex trafficker. It sounds like he's from out of town."

"Hun, nobody's going to sex traffick me."

\\ Get some drinks? Show me the town?

\\ Charleston?? Chrissie typed. \\ There's not much to show here.

\\ Well, a drink then. See if there's chemistry. No expectations, no obligations.

"See?" Chrissie said. "That's why slightly older guys are better. More chill. Your Chad Football Dude would be coming in with all kinds of expectations. He'd want to buy dinner, and then he'd expect a blowjob in the back of his car, and then I'd never see him again."

"In Charleston? Everyone sees everyone again."

"Yeah true, and it's awkward."

"How many guys have you blown in the back of their cars, then?" Jasmine asked, suddenly curious.

Chrissie ignored her.

\\ Sounds good. How about the Cantina on MacCorkle?

\\ I'll find it. Meet at seven?

"No!" Jasmine wailed.

\\ See you then.

Chrissie put the phone down.

"There, I have a date. A decent looking guy is going to buy me some drinks and try to get in my pants. He's not from around here, so if I say yes, I don't need to worry about meeting him again. And if I say no, I had a couple free drinks. It's not so hard."

"But, would you really say yes?"

"I might actually," Chrissie said. "If a guy seems like he knows what he's doing? Some girls have... needs."

Jasmine clamped her lips together, something spinning inside.

"I'm coming too," she said. "I'll sit across the bar and if things look sketchy, I'll rescue you."

Chrissie shrugged. "It's a free country. Just don't make it weird, ok? Remember that time I was seeing, ah, what's his name, the guy with the black curly hair?"

Jasmine winced. "Not my finest moment."

* * *

Jasmine took her place at the bar, ordered a mocktail, and immersed herself in her phone. She would just peek now and then to make sure everything was ok. It was early enough that Chrissie had been able to score one of the little booths, and there were enough people at the bar that Jasmine didn't look totally conspicuous.

When the guy came in, Jasmine gulped. He was big! Over six feet, broad shoulders, and he moved with a motion that was both swagger and sleek predator. He wasn't exactly good looking: his nose was crooked, his face made her think of the slab of clay they had used in pottery class. He walked without hesitation and sat down across from Chrissie. They had agreed that Chrissie would be facing away so that Jasmine couldn't disturb her, but if she needed rescuing there were texts, trips to the bathroom, or Chrissie would let down her hair.

A guy down the bar, a guy she had seen before, a young guy with a peach-fuzz mustache and acne, how was he even allowed in here? Bought her a drink, which she emphatically declined.

"Not taking drink offers from boys?"

Jasmine turned.

A blond woman had taken the seat next to her. She was stunning. Straight, sharply cut blond hair like some kind of Swedish model, but voluptuous. Jasmine knew that guys found her attractive, and for all the usual reasons, but this woman had those reasons in jaw-dropping proportions. The woman looked directly into Jasmine's eyes. Jasmine felt those bright, sharp pools of pure blue seem to expand around her. She shook it off.

"Uh, um, no."

"How about from strange women?"

"Ha, um, what?"

"I'm just visiting; I need someone to help me understand Charleston. Let me buy you another lemonade or whatever, and you can tell me about your town. Unless you want something harder."

Something about the woman was making Jasmine feel very strange. Uncomfortable in a way. She swiveled in her bar-stool a little trying to figure it out. The motion of her own hips caught her attention in an unexpected way as well.

"Um, maybe I'll have a margarita. I think I need something to calm my nerves, and they do specialize in margaritas here, you know."

"They had better. You can't call yourself a cantina and not serve a good margarita."

The woman signaled the bartender, who had been not-so covertly ogling her in any case, and soon he was pouring their drinks.

"So, tell me why you are nervous?"

"Oh, it's my friend. She's meeting a super sketchy guy and I'm a little nervous about her."

"It's hard when friends make poor choices. Where is she tonight?"

"Right over there." Jasmine nodded.

"Oh! And that's the sketchy guy?"

Jasmine nodded.

The woman laughed a little too hard, a little too long.

"What?" Jasmine asked, accepting her margarita from the bartender. The woman had asked for extra salt on the rim, which Jasmine didn't care for, but a free drink was a free drink.

"My name is Ruth," the woman said. "What's yours?"

"Um..." Jasmine suddenly wasn't sure she trusted this woman.

The woman held her gaze in a strange way, Jasmine couldn't look away from it. She thought all she needed to do was share her name to get out of it.

She whispered, "Jasmine."

"Oh, that's such a beautiful name," Ruth said, sipping her drink, licking the salt with a long, pointed tongue. She seemed to really enjoy that salt. Her tongue was surprisingly long. Jasmine felt a heat inside her that she didn't understand. What was going on with her tonight?

But at least she was able to look away. She glanced back at Chrissie.

The guy was leaning forward a little, listening. Chrissie was speaking in an animated fashion, but Jasmine wouldn't be able to hear anything.

"What do you think is sketchy about that guy?"

"Well, he's at least ten years older than her for one thing. And they just met on tinder or something, so you know he's just looking to... you know."

"Sometimes older men really know what they are doing," Ruth said.

"Maybe but... older men are... pervy."

"Did an older man hurt you, Jasmine?"

Jasmine nearly spilled her drink. She didn't answer. She looked at the way Chrissie's date was looking at her, licking his lips, a predatory smile on his face. It was awful.

"Just look at him, licking his lips like that. It's like he's planning to eat her."

Jasmine realized what she had said, and blushed furiously. "Not like that."

"Or maybe like that," Ruth said, unphased. "Some men enjoy it. Some women too."

Jasmine shuddered.

Ruth picked up. "What you see is a sex crazed man who wants to take advantage of a young woman. A woman who is innocent. Who doesn't realize what is going on. Who might easily slip into his power, and do things she doesn't want to do, that she doesn't think is right. Is that what you see, Jasmine?"

"Yes," Jasmine whispered, remembering.

"But what I see is a young woman enjoying her power over a man's desire. And I see a powerful man, enjoying... savoring... the sensations of that desire. I don't think your friend is ignorant, innocent, or helpless. Look at the way she moves. See how she kind of dances in her seat? The only problem I see is that I simply don't think your friend is hot enough for a man like that. I think he deserves even more."

"Ugh! Why would you say that? Chrissie's perfectly good looking, and she's sweet actually. You are practically calling her a slut, but she's a really sweet person!"

Ruth nodded, that deep blue gaze locked with Jasmine's again. "I see!" Ruth said. "Let me tell you something, your friend is a bit of a slut, and there's nothing wrong with that... but unfortunately, she's not into you in that way. And you know it."

"Oh!" Jasmine gasped. "Who are you? Why would you say such a thing?"

The woman held her gaze, and reached out, gently rested her fingertips on the bare skin of Jasmine's arm. An electric shiver ran through her.

"But you can have what you want."

"What do I want?" Jasmine whispered, the touch on her arm drawing all her attention.

"You want to be free of your memories. You want to be free of your fear. You want to be able to enjoy yourself... with a woman, but also with a man. Without fear. Without those memories."

Ruth withdrew the touch, and looked away, looking over at Chrissie and the date. She also reached behind her, scrunching her blouse in a way that tightened it across her chest. Jasmine found herself staring at the perfect, full shape of the woman's breasts, the sharp points of her nipples. She wasn't even wearing a bra?

"Isn't that what you want?" Ruth said, looking into the distance.

Jasmine composed herself. She took a sip from her margarita. She even found herself liking the salt. She was strangely thirsty!

"You are a very strange woman," Jasmine said. "And I think you'll find that here in Charleston people mind their own business."

Ruth laughed again. "I highly doubt that. I haven't been in Charleston, but I grew up in a place a lot like this. I grew up a lot like you, to be honest. I like you, Jasmine. I feel like I know you. You are trying so hard to keep everything under control, aren't you. You have all these feelings. Especially when you lie in bed at night, and the memories come, confusing memories. Desire, shame, anger, guilt. He made you feel good, didn't he? And you felt awful about it, because you knew it was wrong. Were you very young?"

"I was eighteen," Jasmine whispered. "But I was a virgin. I was saving myself. I was still at home."

"And he was, let me guess, in his thirties?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"And he slipped into your room, while your parents were sleeping?"