Jessamy Beech Ch. 03: WHW

"So, shit for brains," asked Jessamy Beech, sitting back in her chair, "how come you think you're innocent?"

The inn that she'd chosen for her and Hamnavoe to spend the night had once been an outdoor training centre run by the Royal Air Force. Tucked away down a side street in the small Scottish town of Grantown On Spey, it had survived the strike that had decimated the town's main street, virtually unscathed. Apart from a few scorch marks and the shadowy silhouettes in the shapes of people charred indelibly onto the external walls.

The clientele and staff of 'Ghosts' barely acknowledged their presence, despite the fact that Jessamy had dumped her SA80 noisily down on the bare wooden table in plain view as a statement that she wasn't there to be messed with. Despite the fact that her companion had his wrists secured together with a cable tie and a blood soaked field dressing around one leg. Even a bounty hunter and her quarry were welcome as long as they paid up and caused no trouble.

Hamnavoe cupped his hands around his hot mead and awkwardly lifted it to his lips to drink. He'd had one mouthful of the 'meat pie' and pronounced it inedible. Jessamy couldn't blame him. Squirrel, badger, rat ... who knew what kind of meat the inn was serving up?

"Waiting," Jessamy regarded him with eyes the colour of pale sapphires. Dark rings under them the only evidence that she'd barely slept for several nights. Once they'd reached Nairn on the coast and were sailing north towards Orkney she'd allow herself to relax a little.

Hamnavoe sipped noisily, not being rushed, "That hits the spot, JB. Pity Thanatos took out most of the distilleries. I could do wi' a wee dram o' Laphroaig right aboot now."

"Cut the fucking shit and just answer the question."

Hamnavoe sat back and stared back at her, smiling grimly, "If I convince you I'm an innocent man, you still gonna take me in, JB?

"That depends."

"On what?"

"How well you convince me."

Hamnavoe took a deep breath and pondered for a second, deciding how best to begin his story, "You remember the battle of Slimbridge? Near Gloucester?"

"More of a skirmish than a battle but yeah, I remember."

"General Chinnor's men were losing. They retreated and destroyed everything in their path. Villages, crops, everything."

"Sound enough tactics," Jessamy responded, twiddling one of her blonde dreadlocks, "make it harder for any pursuit to get supplies."

"My family were living in one of the villages."

Jessamy listened but said nothing.

"We were allowed to live but we were kicked out of our own homes. We watched Chinnor's 'soldiers' destroy the entire fuckin' village. They shot our livestock. Even our pets. They left nothing that Trevithick's men could use fer food. Not a single blade of grass ... So, we walked. And walked some more. It was winter. Fuckin' freezing. The old and a few wee 'uns died by the roadside as either starvation or exhaustion took them. My Dad was among them but we didnae have the strength to even bury him. After a few weeks my wife Laura and the bairns were in a bad way ..."

Hamnavoe stared at the tabletop for a few moments in silence.

Jessamy was about to interrupt his reverie when he started speaking once more, "What few that were left of us bumped into Trevithick's advancing army."

"Oh."

"That's what I thought. I'd heard all the stories back then about Trevithick's men being no more than thugs. Rapists. Murderers. But ye know what?"

"What?"

"It was bollocks JB. All of it. Trevithick fed us. They barely had enough food to feed themselves but Trevithick halted the advance and set up camp to look after us refugees. My mother, my wife and sons lived. And right then I promised that man that I would do anything to repay that ... anything."

"So how come you ended up on Orkney torturing families and crucifying little girls?"

Hamnavoe smiled, "If I get you pissed enough on this mead, will you let me take you upstairs and fuck yer brains oot JB?"

. . .

An hour later, Jessamy Beech lay in bed staring up at the mildewed ceiling. The muffled sounds of the inn drifted up through the bare floorboards. The clink of glasses, laughter. She hadn't taken Hamnavoe up on his offer of course, though for an instant she'd been sorely tempted.

It had been a while since she'd last had a lover. On cold nights she sometimes longed to feel the weight of a man thrusting urgently up inside her or another woman's breath on her bare skin. There were working girls in the bar downstairs who surely wouldn't say no if she paid enough ...

But no. The rest of Hamnavoe's story had given her a lot to think about. On the other side of the privacy curtain he snored noisily, tied securely to the room's other bed.

Underneath the faded duvet, Jessamy's hand drifted down over the taut muscles of her flat belly, fingertips feeling the ridges and glossy skin of old scars. Every single mark on her body had a story to tell.

Her hand reached the waistband of her underwear. Tempted.

She desperately wanted release. She wanted to taste herself, feel herself clenching around her questing fingers as she orgasmed. But with Hamnavoe snoring only feet away she was finding it difficult to get in the mood.

Jessamy recalled another such night. When fear of discovery had almost held her back. Her first night with Merida. Sweet, beautiful Merida ...

CHAPTER THREE: WEST HIGHLAND WAY

Twenty years earlier.

Jessamy stayed close to Ewan and Merida as they crept cautiously around the rusted wreckage of cars and other vehicles abandoned along the cracked and potholed road south. Weeds as high as her waist partially hid the remains of corpses. Men, women and children still sitting where they'd died when the first strikes had turned the very air around them to searing fire.

They were heading along what had once been the A85 towards the small village of Tyndrum. For years an important crossroads for both the main road and railway line heading northwards to Fort William and west towards Oban. The 96 mile long West Highland Way had also once passed through it - a long distance footpath heading from Milngavie on the outskirts of Glasgow, through the mountains and across the beautiful desolation of Rannoch Moor to the foot of the UK's tallest mountain, Ben Nevis.

Why anyone would want to walk that distance for recreation was beyond Jessamy. The three of them had walked through the night, nervously keeping their eyes and ears peeled for more Reivers all the way, and her new boots were starting to rub.

Ewan spun around and scowled at her as Jessamy's foot crunched through a scattering of windscreen glass.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Remarkable as it seemed, Jessamy had saved his life the previous day. Ewan evidently remembered that and quickly bit back the torrent of abuse he'd been about to launch in her direction, "S'okay. Just be more careful."

"Ew," said Merida, touching his elbow gently, "we've been going for hours. Let's get off the road and rest a while."

The weak sunlight shining down from the frosty morning sky turned Merida's hair to molten copper. Jessamy's breath caught at the sight of her. The Bristol born redhead was an extremely beautiful woman in her opinion and Jessamy wanted more than anything to continue what had happened between them back at the flat in Oban. But the problem was, Merida was spoken for. She was Ewan's.

Ewan nodded.

"What about the bushes past that pile of white rocks?" suggested Jessamy. She hoisted her rucksack where its shoulder straps were beginning to dig in.

"White rocks?" Ewan peered up the road to where Jessamy was indicating. He picked his way around the charred remains of a van that may have once been painted brown with the letters UPS large down the side. The girls followed.

"Fuck," muttered Ewan under his breath.

"What is it?" asked Merida. Jessamy craned her neck to see why Ewan was so agitated.

"They're not rocks."

A shoulder high cairn had been built beside the road, leaning against the fallen rubble of a drystone wall. Close up, each moss covered white boulder was revealed for what it truly was. Hundreds of empty eye sockets glared blankly at the three fugitives. Hundreds of lipless mouths grinned up at them from the neatly stacked mound of human skulls.

Jessamy gasped. Ewan pointed across the road to an identical cairn on the far side, "This most definitely marks the edge of the Reivers' territory."

"Can we go around?" asked Merida.

"Ssh!"

"What is it?"

"Thought I heard something ... apart from the wind ..."

Something whistled past Jessamy's ear, but before she could react or shout a warning, whatever it was had smacked into the side of Ewan's head. He dropped to the melted tarmac like a fallen tree, blood already forming a sticky red pool around his face.

"EWAN!" screamed Merida and rushed to his side.

"KEEP THE WOMEN ALIVE!" bellowed a harsh sounding voice from the bushes, and suddenly at least a dozen dark figures burst from cover and surrounded them. Each one dressed in a mixture of animal skins, makeshift pieces of armour and carrying a motley assortment of weapons - cleavers, crossbows, halberds - and the one who'd obviously downed Ewan - a slingshot.

Reivers.

Merida screamed as two of them pulled her to her feet while a third Reiver checked Ewan, "This cunt's still alive Flaps. Shall I finish him?"

"No," said the voice they'd heard before, evidently Flaps, "bring him along ... fresh."

Jessamy shuddered at the way the Reiver glanced at her as he uttered the word 'fresh'. He was even more imposing than the one she'd shot. Bald and tattooed, with shoulder armour that could only have been fashioned from some bladed piece of farming machinery.

Two more Reivers seized her and in seconds her Glock handgun and rucksack had been snatched from her.

"Wh-what are you g-going to do w-with us?" Jessamy stammered.

"Nice little ass like yours, I think the whole fuckin' village'll want a go with you girl," the Reiver who had hold of her put his scarred face close to hers so that Jessamy could smell his breath. She almost gagged. The Reiver's breath stank of decay and rotting meat.

He groped roughly between her thighs with thick fingers while another Reiver secured her hands with a thick cable tie, "Shame. She's quite nice lookin'."

"Eyeball! Wait yer fuckin' turn," shouted Flaps who was obviously the leader, "his Highness'll want to see what we've caught before you cunts have yer way with her."

. . .

Leaving half their number to guard the road, Jessamy and Merida were led south by Flaps, Eyeball and four other Reivers. She wondered how they came by their names then instantly regretted it as horrific images came into her head. Unarmed and with their hands secured there was no way they could possibly make their escape now. Besides, Ewan was unconscious and still bleeding heavily from his head wound, dragged along by his arms by two of the bigger Reivers. Even if she and Merida could get away they didn't know the surrounding territory and they couldn't just leave their companion to his fate.

Jessamy's head swam with a wave of nausea. It was inevitable. She and Merida were going to be raped by these savages. Repeatedly and brutally. And if the rumours of cannibalism were true, that wouldn't be the end of it.

And they had walked straight into it. She turned to her captor, Eyeball, "Where are y-you taking us?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

The impact of Eyeball's hand striking the back of her head jarred Jessamy's teeth together. He sneered, "We'll see what Rab wants done with you."

"Couldn't we m-make a deal?" ventured Jessamy.

"Yer boyfriend's out cold. He wouldn't put up much of a fight would he?"

"A fight?" asked Jessamy, expecting to feel the side of Eyeball's hand again, "we didn't want to fight. We j-just wanted to p-pass through peacefully."

Eyeball sighed and squeezed her shoulder painfully, digging his nails in, "Our esteemed fuckin' leader has got this weird idea ... about chivalry, honour an' shit like that. Yeah, I know ... and the next minute he'll be eating your fuckin' liver. Anyone we catch has got the chance to fight for their freedom. They win, we let them go. That's the rule. Keeps us entertained innit? Your bloke won't be much of a fuckin' challenge though, will he?"

"H-how many have ever won?" Jessamy asked nervously, dreading what the answer would be.

Eyeball laughed out loud and shoved her so hard that Jessamy stumbled, scraping her knee on the rough ground. A few feet away Merida sobbed, her eyes wide and staring, no doubt contemplating the horrors they were all about to face. Behind them, Ewan was still out cold.

Jessamy had seen men die from simple head wounds. Seemingly trivial little knocks that they never woke up from. In their current situation perhaps that might be a blessing ...

Isolated buildings, whitewashed cottages and farmhouses appeared as the group neared the outskirts of Tyndrum around a curve in the road, their walls daubed in red with crude images of skulls. Jessamy guessed that it wasn't paint. More Reivers gathered along the roadside to watch as they passed, then fell in behind them, curious as to who the new captives were. The majority were men, but Jessamy did notice several women amongst their ranks.

Pale, filthy shadows of what had once been human beings scuttled pathetically around behind the Reivers, craning their necks to see. Jessamy realised with revulsion that each and every one of them had at least one limb missing, bare stumps sewn roughly together and left uncovered. Was this what was to become of them?

. . .

Eventually the Reivers stopped in what had once been the centre of Tyndrum outside a weathered building with what appeared to be a giant green boot painted across one wall. Someone's idea of a joke from pre-strike days no doubt, thought Jessamy. She guessed that there had to be over a hundred Reivers gathered by now, watching expectantly, murmuring amongst themselves. As bad as their situation had been, it was now a whole lot worse ...

"RAB!" Flaps shouted up at the top windows of the building. Behind the village, the massive bulks of Beinn Odhar, Beinn Chaorach and Beinn Challuim loomed three thousand feet above the scene, a patchwork of sunlight and cloud moving across their dun coloured upper slopes.

Scanning around, Jessamy noticed several vehicles parked nearby in the rubble of what had once been a petrol station. A campervan, a huge green tractor with the words 'John Deere' printed down the side ... and, although Jessamy had no idea what it was, a green military style Humvee with an enormous machine gun mounted on its roof. Were any of them in working order?

After a few moments silence, a woman's scream pierced the air and was chillingly cut short. A second later a big calloused hand pushed up one of the old sash windows from inside and a head peered out, "What now?"

"Caught these three. Bloke's out cold but the two girls are raring to go, ain't ya?" Flaps grabbed a handful of Merida's ass and squeezed. Merida sobbed but made no attempt to resist.

"I'll be down."

The head ducked back into the building.

The Reivers' leader, Rab, emerged soon after from the front door of the old Green Welly hotel. As he approached, he wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, "Ere Flaps, that last one you brought back was a bit frisky."

Flaps laughed. Was that the scream she'd heard, thought Jessamy. She dreaded to think what degradations had been inflicted on the poor woman.

Rab was massive, dwarfing both the Reiver who'd tried to behead Ewan in Dalmally and Flaps, the leader of the group who'd ambushed them. He was dressed from head to foot in studded black leather, one arm and shoulder armoured with rusting pieces of vehicle bodywork, half his bald head tattooed with a vivid blue scorpion. A Heckler & Koch MP5 hung from a shoulder strap and a thick ginger beard, decorated with plaits and small bones, reached halfway down his broad chest ...

"Nice," said Rab appraisingly. He tilted Merida's face upward with one huge hand, "you know how I like redheads."

There was a smattering of laughter from the assembled Reivers. Flaps smirked.

Rab glanced at Jessamy, "Don't like blondes much, Flaps. Give her to yer men."

Rab grabbed Merida by the cable tie securing her hands and began steering her towards the hotel entrance. With a nod from Flaps, Eyeball seized Jessamy's collar and dragged her backwards.

"W-wait!" choked Jessamy. It was now or never.

Rab stopped and turned.

"I want th-the chance to f-fight."

Rab raised an eyebrow and smiled. Then giggled. Then finally doubled over as he was seized by shuddering paroxysms of laughter. Many of the other Reivers joined in.

Eyeball leaned close to Jessamy's ear and whispered, "I've already got a fuckin' hardon and you're not getting out of my sight until I've had your tight little ass. We clear?"

When he'd finally calmed down, Rab raised a hand for silence, "Let the girl speak."

All eyes were on her. If she stumbled over her words or gave the Reivers any hint that she was joking, it would be over for all three of them. Three more skulls to add to the roadside cairns ...

"Your friend Eyeball ..." Jessamy began.

Rab roared, "Haha! Hear that Eyeball? You're me fuckin mate now! Perhaps I should invite you 'round, share the pretty redhead eh? If you're lucky I'll let you blow me."

Eyeball grinned.

Jessamy ignored them both, "He told me that c-captives would have a ch-chance to fight for their freedom."

Rab nodded, suddenly serious.

"I want to fight for my fr-freedom and th-that of my friends."

"SILENCE!" Rab screamed as the crowd began shouting their disapproval. Jessamy noticed that Merida appeared to have finally come to her senses and was watching her intently, her expression a mixture of hope, fear and utter disbelief.

Rab pushed Merida away and strolled towards Jessamy, looming over her, using his size to intimidate, "Your boyfriend is unconscious little girl and I seriously doubt either of you two are going to last long against my man. But ... rules are rules. Especially the ones I made myself."

Jessamy swallowed hard.

"If you really want your death to be quick then by all means fight. But I warn you that when you lose, I'll make sure your pretty redhead friend prays for death every remaining second of her miserable fucking life. You still want to fight?"

Jessamy glanced at Merida and saw her barely perceptible nod. Her chances of success were minute but she couldn't give up while there was still the tiniest grain of hope. She looked into Rab's cold, black eyes, "I want to fight."

"So be it," Rab turned to address the crowd, "the little blonde girl will fight for their freedom. If she wins, they will all leave Tyndrum unmolested ... with all their limbs and extremities intact. If she loses ..."

Merida shivered as Rab grinned at her with bloodstained teeth.

. . .

Without preamble, a rough circle was cleared in the street in front of the hotel, at the centre of which was placed a selection of weapons. Mostly bladed weapons, noticed Jessamy. No guns or other projectile weapons. Though from a distance she couldn't clearly make out exactly what they all were.

Jessamy's bonds were cut and Merida was shoved and pushed to crouch next to Ewan, who lay face down in the dirt, still unmoving. Though her hands remained tied.

Rab sauntered into the middle of the circle, "REIVERS! WELCOME!"

A cheer ran through the crowd. Jessamy didn't know if the others actually liked and respected their leader or just put up a facade in return for the security of belonging to his group. Safety in numbers. It didn't matter. What was she doing? She was a malnourished teenage girl who'd spent most of her life toiling on Mull's crofts, digging and harvesting stunted crops every day in return for a meal and a roof over her head. She knew nothing of fighting. She'd hit the Preen officer who'd tried to rape her in the head with a shoe and accidentally shot a Reiver with someone else's gun.