Jessamy Beech Ch. 02: Oban

. . .

Jessamy was awoken hours later by the sound of voices, trying to talk quietly in raised whispers.

"Meri, you don't have a fuckin' clue who she is. She might even be working for the Preens!"

A man's voice.

"Don't talk shit. She's half starved. She's got callouses on her hands that you only get from working in the fields. I trust her Ew ... and, and I think we should take her with us."

The hard sound of a wall being punched made Jessamy jump.

"What's she going to eat? It's hard enough finding food for two!"

"We'll manage Ewan. We've managed so far ..."

"If she so much as says the word Preen, I'll slit her fuckin' throat."

There was silence for a few moments, then, "Look what I found in Boots ... they're different flavours. And I even got some of the ribbed ones you like ..."

"Yeah, nice one Meri. But thanks to your new friend we're not going to have much fuckin' privacy to use them are we?"

Jessamy didn't have a clue what they were talking about. Different flavours? Ribbed ones? Maybe different flavoured, ribbed boots? The other voice could only be Ewan, Merida's boyfriend returned from his nocturnal shopping expedition. Jessamy stretched and sat up, peering out into the kitchen.

"So you're awake," said a tall bearded man dressed much like Merida. He studied Jessamy with piercing blue eyes as he leaned against the kitchen counter sipping a hot drink, "what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Ew, Ssh," whispered Merida. As he turned, Jessamy noticed a jagged scar running across the side of the man's head, half hidden by his blond hair.

She stepped forward and held out a hand, "I'm Jessamy. Pleased to meet you."

Ewan glanced at Jessamy's hand then pointedly turned away, "If she's coming with us you better go through the stuff I brought back. See if any of it'll fit her. I'm going to get a few hours sleep. I'm knackered."

Merida looked as if she was about to say something about Ewan's rudeness but Jessamy shook her head, "Right. Well then. Let's see what Ewan's brought back from the shops eh?"

Jessamy watched uneasily as Ewan stamped wearily upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Why did he look so familiar?

. . .

Ewan had stuffed a 65 litre rucksack with all the clothing he could find in Merida's size, one size larger and one size smaller. After closing the living room door for privacy, Merida persuaded Jessamy to try a few things on, as the two girls were roughly the same size and height.

"What the fuck happened to you Jess?" Merida gasped as Jessamy stepped out of the baggy boiler suit, "you're absolutely covered in bruises and scratches!"

Jessamy decided not to mention that she preferred to be called by her whole name. The only people who'd ever called her Jess had been her family, "Just bruises. Work. Sleeping on the floor. You get a few knocks ..."

"So do I, but all the same, once we're done here I think I should clean some of them and use some antiseptic."

"Anti what?" asked Jessamy. She crossed her arms over her bare breasts, suddenly conscious of being naked in front of a virtual stranger. It was true. Her legs were covered in cuts and scratches from her desperate flight to Craignure's jetty.

Merida shook her head, "How long were you on the island?"

"Ten years. Why?"

"It's like you haven't learnt anything for ten years. Like you're still eight in the body of an eighteen year old. Oh Jess, what are we going to do with you?"

"You can start by th-throwing me a t-shirt, I'm fr-freezing here."

. . .

In the last ten years, Jessamy hadn't owned a single item of clothing that had fitted her. But soon she was kitted out with boots, Bridgedale socks, thermal underwear, her first ever sports bra, Montane walking trousers, a selection of t-shirts, a fleece lined softshell and a black North Face mountain jacket. A Buff, gloves and a beanie completed her new outfit.

Jessamy looked at herself in the cracked and spotted mirror above the mantlepiece and despite her earlier resolve, promptly starting crying. Merida rushed over and slipped an arm around her shoulders, "Hey, hey. What's all this?"

"N-no one's ever g-given me this much before. N-not without wanting s-something in return," Jessamy wiped her eyes with the cuff of her new jacket and was immediately mortified that she'd marked the clean fabric.

"Ssh. Don't be daft lass," Merida stroked her long blonde hair, "we're friends. Friends do things for each other and don't expect anything back, okay?"

Jessamy sniffed, "Okay."

"Good. Right. I'm going to clean those cuts of yours then we're going to pack this spare rucksack. Because you, Jessamy Beech, are coming with us ..."

Jessamy forced a smile. Apart from Ewan's surliness, why did she get the feeling that Merida and her boyfriend were too good to be true?

. . .

Merida gently wiped the scratches on Jessamy's naked shoulder with a damp sponge, "Sorry it's only cold water. It uses up too much gas to heat it."

"It's fine, really," Jessamy was perched sideways on the edge of the sofa, naked from the waist up while Merida bathed her more serious cuts. She shivered as water trickled down her back and down over her chest, raising gooseflesh and making her nipples stand to attention.

Merida had already shown Jessamy how to use a nail clipper on her toe nails so that her socks would last longer and her new boots wouldn't hurt her toes.

"How far south are you planning to go?" Merida asked.

The tiny seed of doubt had bloomed into paranoia in Jessamy's mind. That was exactly the sort of question that a Preen spy would ask.

"Um, Liverpool," she said, giving the name of the only other place to the south that she could remember other than that of her true destination.

"Liverpool eh? That's quite a way," Merida laid the water dish aside and unscrewed the cap on a tube of antiseptic cream, "this expired about eight years ago but hopefully it'll still do some good. I'll do your legs in a mo."

She began to massage a dollop of cream into Jessamy's shoulder, working it in with strong fingertips.

"You've got very strong hands," Jessamy noted.

"Do a lot of climbing when we're out scavenging. You're ... very tense."

Merida's hands roamed lower, kneeding the muscles at the top of Jessamy s spine, "So where are you from originally? You're not a Scot."

"No," Jessamy answered. Merida's miraculous hands were gradually easing her various aches and pains, "I'm Cornish. You're not a Scot either are you?"

Merida didn't ask why someone from Cornwall would be trying to get back to Liverpool.

"Nope. Bristol born and bred. I was up north in Kyle of Lochalsh when the shit started, staying with cousins for the summer. All dead now ..."

Jessamy tensed a little, wondering what Merida was doing as her hands circled around to lightly stroke her ribcage, "You could do with putting a bit of weight on," she pointed out.

"Mm, that feels nice. You're making me all tingly and relaxed all at the same time," Jessamy purred, leaning back. She jerked in shock as Merida planted a tiny kiss on her shoulder blade, "Wh-what was that for?"

"Didn't you like it?" asked Merida, "D-do you want me to stop?"

Merida's touch was the complete opposite of Colonel Beaconsfield's. His had been rough. Impatient and insistent. Merida's was soft. Confident but somehow tentative at the same time.

"It's nice," Jessamy whispered, "it's just ... I've never been touched by another girl before."

Merida encircled Jessamy's torso, letting the backs of her thumbs brush the firm undersides of her breasts. Jessamy parted her lips and gasped.

"Two woman can show each other affection as well you know. Only with us ..." she kissed Jessamy's shoulder again, letting her soft lips linger for a few seconds, "it's not about control and taking what we want. It's more about ..." her hands suddenly moved up to cup Jessamy's breasts, "giving ..."

Jessamy arched her back, pressing her chest against Merida's fingers as the redhead teased the rosy pinkness of her aureolas. No-one had ever touched her like this and strange new sensations were coursing through her body. Not tainted by fear as they'd been with Beaconsfield and infinitely more exquisite than the few occasions when she'd touched herself.

Lying awake in the distillery warehouse on Mull, she'd played with herself, marvelling at the way the crinkly flesh between her thighs grew wet and slippery and how her nipples grew hard and firm making her entire body shiver. But fear of discovery, of being watched had always held her back, preventing her from exploring these new sensations to their conclusion.

"Do you want me to stop?" whispered Merida. Her voice sounded tremulous to Jessamy's ears.

Was this wrong what they were doing? Merida had a boyfriend and it just wasn't natural for a woman to touch another like this. But Merida's hands kneeding the firm flesh of her breasts said otherwise. It just felt so good, "No ..."

But instead of continuing, Merida knelt on the stained laminate floor beside Jessamy, "You have beautiful breasts."

Jessamy didn't know how to respond. They were breasts. They weren't beautiful or ugly. They just were. She watched as Merida lowered her head and took a nipple between her lips, the tip of her tongue flicking over the engorged bud.

"Aah," Jessamy's hands clutched Merida's shoulders, holding her there. Afraid to let the other woman go any further but more afraid to let her stop.

"I want to make love to you Jess," said Merida, "I want to show you that not all people are like Beaconsfield. If you say no I won't be offended. Will you let me?"

As if to remind Jessamy of the potential rewards if she said yes, Merida suckled on her nipple, nibbling and teasing, swirling her tongue around it until Jessamy shuddered, "Y ..."

Footsteps clumping down the stairs above their heads brought Jessamy back to her senses. Ewan was awake. Jessamy didn't want to be seen half naked, and certainly not in a compromising position with Merida. She quickly snatched up one of her new t-shirts and pulled it on.

Merida gave her a wistful look, "Maybe another time?"

Jessamy nodded. Her nipples still tingled where Merida's lips and fingers had been and she felt a yearning emptiness somewhere in her belly. She knew that all Merida would have to do was say the word and she would gladly surrender herself to feel that way again for even a second. She nodded again, just to make sure Merida had gotten the message, "Yes."

The door swung open and Ewan strode in, yawning and scratching. He glanced contemptuously at Jessamy, "You're still here then?"

. . .

The three of them spent the remainder of the afternoon redistributing their rucksack loads and planning a route south. Or at least Ewan planned the route as Merida couldn't make head or tail of the old Ordnance Survey maps that he spread out on the kitchen table. And he deliberately ignored any suggestions Jessamy made.

The two young women awkwardly avoided making eye contact with each other. Merida seemed embarrassed more than anything, leaving Jessamy thinking that she'd somehow offended her. She wanted nothing more than to take the redhead to one side for a few minutes and talk through what had happened between them. But with Ewan present that just wasn't possible. As the sky began to darken over the ruins of Oban, they ate a hot meal of dehydrated noodles - light and easy to prepare Merida informed her, when Jessamy realised just how many dozens of packets they would be carrying.

Ewan had decided they would travel by night until they were away from Oban to avoid any unwanted attention from the local Preens. One or two scruffy fishing boats put to sea from the harbour across the bay to try their luck out in the Firth of Lorn, and the occasional three man armed patrol of Fodders wandered down the rubble strewn street outside, but other than that Jessamy saw no-one as they waited in the chilly flat.

As night fell, Ewan dropped his fork and bowl in the kitchen sink and pulled on a woollen beanie, "I'll leave the washing up for the next tenants."

"Are we going now?" asked Jessamy, hurrying to finish her noodles.

Ewan didn't look at her but lifted his bulging MTP rucksack onto his back, shrugging into the shoulder straps and tightening them, "Stay close, both of you. Do as I say and don't speak," he turned to face Jessamy, "if you do anything that makes me uneasy, anything that looks like you're deliberately giving away our position I'll ..."

"Ew, don't," Merida butted in, "she's no spy. She just wants to get home to Liverpool."

Ewan smirked, "Bullshit. I don't know what she is, but it sure as hell isn't what she says ... and another thing, I'd feel a lot safer if you gave me the fucking gun."

He held out a hand, waiting.

Merida stepped between them, "It's her gun Ewan. You've no right to take it from her."

"And I don't want the little bitch tooled up behind me where I can't see her."

"She needs it Ew, you know what it's like out there. She has the right to protect herself ..."

"GIVE ME THE FUCKING GUN NOW!" Ewan shouted, his eyes blazing.

Merida put a hand on his chest, "You will not deprive this girl of her only means of protection. She was almost raped yesterday in case you didn't know. She is absolutely shit scared it'll happen again. Now back the fuck off!"

Ewan looked as if he was about to argue, but one look at the expression on Merida's face was enough to dissuade him. He turned towards the door, pulling on his gloves, "Just keep her the fuck away from me Meri or so help me I'll snap her fucking neck ..."

Merida looked at Jessamy in the gloom, but said nothing, her expression unreadable.

. . .

Once again they followed a circuitous route through alleyways and derelict buildings, heading in a roughly northerly direction. It was Ewan's plan to follow the coast as far as the bridge at Connel before turning east towards the village of Taynuilt and the Pass of Brander. Once they'd reached the eastern end of Loch Awe they would join the long distance footpath known as the West Highland Way that would take them south to the outskirts of Glasgow, avoiding roads and many of the communities along the way.

The Fodders and Preens could be a law unto themselves away from their chain of command and two teenaged girls with just one man to protect them might be too tempting a prize to pass up. Merida had already told Jessamy that Seoras the guard's tale of cannibalism hadn't been an exaggeration. It really was best if they avoided human contact as much as possible.

Jessamy was amazed at how comfortable her new boots were. After years building up stamina and muscle working on the crofts, she had no trouble keeping pace with the others. But if her boot scraped or she so much as scuffed her rucksack against some brickwork when she forgot to duck low enough, Ewan would shoot her a daggerous look.

After Dunollie Castle with its disused refugee camp, they turned onto an old cycleway at Ganavan and paused for a rest. While the two girls perched on the wreck of an ancient BMW slowly disintegrating in a cracked and pitted car park, Ewan strolled down on to the beach alone.

"How you holding up?" asked Merida. She swigged water from a Nalgene then offered it to Jessamy.

"I'm okay."

"You're not are you? Is it ... about earlier?"

"No, it's Ewan. He scares me. Is he always like that?"

Merida huffed, "No. No, he's not. One minute he's the kindest, most considerate man I've ever met. He looks after me. The next he can just fly off the handle at the slightest thing."

"Where's he from?" Jessamy asked, watching Ewan warily. The sliver of moon shone down on a beach that was littered with bones, splintered remains of tree trunks and even the dented remains of a Volkswagen camper van, lying on its roof in the shallows.

"He ... doesn't know."

"What?" Jessamy sneered, "How can he not know where he's from?"

"Did you see the scar on his head?"

Jessamy nodded.

"When he saved me from those three ra ... attackers, he was already covered in blood. His own. He had a nasty head wound. I stitched him up and nursed him in return for saving me and we've been together since. But he doesn't have a clue who he is. He doesn't even remember his own name."

"But he's got a name," Jessamy pointed out.

"I though he looked like Ewan McGregor the actor, so that's my fault."

Jessamy didn't know who Ewan McGregor was.

"Give him time Jess. He'll warm to you eventually. H-he's a good man."

Jessamy said nothing but unconsciously gripped the Glock in her jacket pocket as Ewan started walking back up the beach towards them.

. . .

They followed the cycle track to Connel through desolate, frost covered hills. Jessamy stared as they passed a row of bloated corpses, each with a bullet hole in the back of its head.

"Executions," said Ewan when he saw her looking, "Preens used to march 'em out of town to shoot em' so the locals wouldn't realise how bad things were. Now things are so bad they just execute them right there in front of the old distillery."

"What did they do?" she asked.

"Dunno. Stealing food maybe," he tilted his head to one side, watching her, as if he was about to say something else, but then shrugged and carried on walking.

They detoured away from the road on reaching Connel when Merida spotted the faint lights of a Preen checkpoint on the bridge, which was surprisingly intact. It wouldn't be seeing much traffic anytime soon, thought Jessamy, if what she'd overheard about the destruction of Fort William had been true, there'd be no reason for anyone to travel that way.

Outside of Oban, the darkness was absolute. Ten years earlier there would have been the headlights of late night traffic, the welcoming glow from isolated farmhouse windows and perhaps even boats down on Loch Etive to their left. But now ... there was nothing. With Ewan still leading, Jessamy and Merida followed the faded white lines painted down the centre of what had once been the A85. Stepping over ruts in the cracked tarmac, weaving in and out of car wreckage, always listening and watchful for any sight or sound of pursuit.

. . .

The sky cleared as they neared Taynuilt, the few dozen visible stars becoming hundreds then thousands, outlining the collosal bulk of mighty Ben Cruachan looming over three thousand feet behind the village.

"Wow," whispered Jessamy, looking up.

"Yeah," said Merida, "before the strikes, every single star apparently had a name. I don't know how they managed to keep track of which was which."

"What's the point of naming something that's so far away?" Jessamy scoffed.

Ewan turned back towards them, "Will you two shut the fuck up?" he hissed, though he glared only at Jessamy as he said it. He pointed down the road ahead of them, "I think we may have a problem ..."

A few yards further on, the road dipped, and disappeared under water as it sloped down towards Loch Awe, still several miles up ahead. From one or two inches, the oily black water gradually got deeper and deeper, with the skeletal remains of treetops emerging a couple of hundred yards further on.

Ewan shrugged off his rucksack and pulled out a map, holding it close to his face to be able the read the detail, "Fuck. There was a hydro-electric plant along here at the foot of Ben Cruachan. It was fed by a reservoir high up on the mountain. Looks like a meteorite must've taken out the dam and flooded the whole fucking valley, or enough to raise the water level at least."

"And the road follows the edge of Loch Awe?" asked Merida.

Ewan folded the map, "It used to. Unless you want to climb over Ben Cruachan in the dark, our only option is to follow the railway line. It's built along the mountainside above the road."

"If that's the only way, mightn't it be guarded?" Jessamy asked.