Strange Queens Ch. 03

'You have saved my life. Of course I will help you.' Gold said evenly.

Rachel took a breath, 'Right-'

'But,' she cut her off, 'I will also help you because these people took my life from me and then watched me make a brand new friend, only to tear her away from me in the most horrific way I could imagine. I will make them pay, and I will help you.'

Rachel didn't have time to check, but she had the feeling that the girl had teared up. She would never know if she had, however.

'Right. Then here's the plan.' Rachel said as their van bumped and tilted sideways as the tires lifted off the dirt side road and rolled onto the bitumen highway at breakneck speed.

*

Roberts/Chelsea woke again for the fourth time since it had been light. She raised her head and looked about herself, groggy and dizzy. Her eyes slowly came to focus and she found herself in a library living room, a lavishly decorated show-off room edged on three sides by wide, floor-to-ceiling windows. The world continued to sway about her as she turned her head and took in the blurry mass beside her, a single armchair sitting adjacent to her three seater couch, an armchair with some sort of shape perched across it. Blinking and shaking her head she began to make out the black shapes of legs dangling down over the close side of the armchair, one hanging pointing straight out on the arm rest, the other bent over the front of the rest, the foot toes down on the floor. She found that the legs connected to an ass, a skirt-wearing ass, said skirt hanging down under the limp body above the actual cushions of the chair itself, the upper part bunched up around the waist above the ass.

The ass, like the legs, was encased in what looked to Robert's blurry headache like full length stockings, the ass itself blacker than the rest in what she supposed was black panties. Above this the form dipped, this part being the waist, a thin waist held pouted forwards by the person's position. Continuing onwards up the frame details became harder to make out to Roberts but she could see arms draped out over the chair, one flopped up by the girl's head -- for she was a girl, Roberts could finally tell this much -- the other lazily discarded on the floor, wrist bent and hand palm-up on the carpet much like the foot on the same side of the body. The girl had obviously fallen like this, or otherwise simply draped herself over it, and was now asleep, or -- why, Roberts' didn't know, but it was an option, she supposed -- knocked out.

She seemed pretty still. Her all black form, the only non-black feature the skin of her face and arms showing, seemed like a discarded rag. A hint of something crept into Roberts's mind, a suggestion triggered by the sight of the female. Words seemed to flap lazily about her brain. Vulnerable. Unconscious. Arousing. Sexy. Female. Unresisting. Alone. Private. Quiet.

But the words did little more than swirl her already painfully aching brain about and she quickly sunk back into a deep sleep and left the aching reality of consciousness behind again for a while. Her head flopped back to her own couch's armrest, her own naked body drooped as lazily as the black dressed girl's.

*

The two vans hit the highway with speed and Rachel straightened her up, feeling the tyres sink into the smooth road and pick up some speed. Behind them she saw the attacking black van jolt and rotate slightly as it crested the embankment and levelled itself behind them on the bitumen. It too picked up speed with a puff from its exhaust.

'You got it?' Rachel shouted as she hit her driver's controls and lowered the electric windows on either side of the cabin. Gold Eyes nodded gently.

'I got it.'

'Alright, because you've got about ten seconds before I do it!' Rachel said, the wind biting her words out of her mouth and whisking them back out the window and away. Gold twisted herself about in her seat so she was facing backwards, her legs up on the flat bench, her shoulder on the door.

'Make sure you stay out of the way!' she shouted at Rachel. 'I don't want to hit you!'

Rachel nodded and Gold Eyes saw her lips and teeth as she said something along the lines of, "Of course!"

Gold's eyes flicked for a moment to the dash in front of the big girl's tightly-gripped steering wheel, her senses calmed before the impending action. Sitting there, back up against the door, legs out on the bench, knees variously bent, her gold hair flying and whipping about in the wind, she almost looked cover-girl material, if one ignored the dirt and the chastity harnesses.

'Rachel.' She said. Rachel flashed a look, not sure what she was trying to say. She flew past a small car obeying the speed limit, the van swaying, the distant sound of a horn blaring behind them. 'That is a good name. You know what the name Rachel means in Hebrew?'

Rachel looked at her for a moment. 'What?' She asked.

'It means Sheep's Friend. It stems from the Bible, where Rachel, the wife of Jacob, would spend her time nurturing her husband's cattle, helping them feed and birth their young. Though he made fun of her affiliation to his herds, giving hint towards a sexual connotation she had for such creatures, when Jacob traded his sheep he always told proudly of his wife's tending. He made good money from them, and so he let her tend them night after night. Though it is never stated on page, it is said that Rachel died the day robbers tried to steal her husband's cattle for their own sale and stabbed her when she fought them. He had found her next to death in the morning in his field. Her last words had been, "Your cattle are safe, Jacob. See them be well, for me."'

Rachel said nothing for a moment. 'Your actions here are much like those of the Rachel of old, I think. You selflessly act to save others, you risk your life for ours, you care about those below you, you care about their lives more than your own. In many ways you are a Sheep's friend and we are your sheep.'

Rachel cast a sideways look at the gold haired girl and shot back to the road when she saw her staring calmly right at her. She didn't see the golden girl smile slightly, the first positive emotion she'd shown since Rachel had met her. A few moments passed by.

'There's nothing coming now. I'm bringing us by them. Get ready!' Rachel said. Quickly, Gold gripped her pistol and was out the window, her upper body leaning out, her harness resting on the door, pistol held level and outstretched. Instantly, she saw the black van pursuing them swing out behind them as Rachel brought their car sharply to the right. A split second after it cleared level with their own car, she hit the brakes and the enemy car shot towards them. Immediately the glass of the side mirror by Gold's head shattered and she felt glass spray across her back, catching a glint of light a second later as the hardened glass vial of the dart fell to the road and disappeared under their van. She closed one eye as the van flew forwards and tracked the driver inside, his window down too to let the pistol-ready guard shoot out. She could see his eyes behind his goggles locked right on her as he passed, and for the briefest of moments her whole body went calm and she released the breath she'd been holding as she depressed the trigger. A split second later the gun clicked and shucked and her round was away, and then the van was gone, rushing ahead of her. She watched it over her shoulder, her gun up, waiting.

And then, fifty metres ahead, the brakes on the van now in front of them slammed on and the nose of the van appeared as it started to fishtail. Their own car rushed back past it and its wheels smoked as it burned rubber, jumping off the mark again, the deadly rifle-ready passenger side now opened wide to their car. He opened fire as the back wheels slid and the van pushed forwards, now once again in pursuit, seventy metres behind their target.

'Shit.' Gold muttered bluntly. 'Not good.'

'Oh not fucking good!' Gold heard from behind her. She spun to check why Rachel had said this, and saw her arm instantly. Lodged in the soft skin of her forearm, a dart clicked softly away from its embedded casing and left it's cursing mark on her arm. Rachel watched it too, unable to take her hands off the wheel, as though she'd have been able to tear it away before it had emptied itself into her anyway. She watched the dart drop spinning between her legs and roll over the lip of the seat and disappear underneath the dash somewhere.

'Fuck!' Rachel gritted her teeth. 'We do not need this, not now!'

Gold quickly assessed her situation. 'How long can you hold on?'

'I'll be fine, just do me a favour and get them on the next pass. I don't know if we'll have another clear shot.' Rachel returned to her quickly. She swerved around a trailer and then back again around a small sports car with its top down, the van lurching viciously, feeling almost like it was ready to tip itself over. But with all the weight of the components down low in the chassis and the weight of the girls anchoring the lower half of the rear, the wheels held and held tightly.

'I'm ready, bring them back past.' Gold said.

'I'm going to have to take them the other side, they're too far over to pass on your side again. They might just be ready for this one. It's down to you now.' Rachel told her. Straightening the speeding van up, she prepared herself. Already Gold could see her beginning to sweat, though whether from the adrenalin, the nerves, or the subduing substance coursing through her body, Gold couldn't know. Quickly she shuffled herself across the seat and anchored herself with her legs, resting her shoulder against Rachel's. The two girl's heads were close together now, her gun ready in front of Rachel's chest.

In the rear of the car, Brianna had given up on the other door; the girls close to it all recently inflicted dart victims. She had managed to drag them away from the open edge and, with the help of the now very small number of still able girls, get them safely grouped up on the far side. Now she was mostly alone, bar Amanda, who sat with her legs wide to support herself -- or perhaps for other reasons, it was unclear -- on the flat bench that made up the wheel cavity. She looked pale and tense, somewhat like how a person does when they're feeling car sick and trying not to let themselves vomit.

Clutching her pistol in her left hand, knelt on one knee by the back door, Brianna was thinking fast. She had very little options here, the guard's van had all the cards in this deck. A sniper was ready to hit them if they peeked out the wildly swinging door, and he was only cut off from fire when their van was to the left of the girl's', thus putting his necessary aiming line through the windshield. His other side was covered by another guard with a pistol, ready to shoot past the driver, though he had little range of motion there. As for the door, she would need a decent stroke of luck to catch it close enough to swing it shut. As it was it flailed loosely in the wind, variously flipping back and forth as the van attached to it swerved around various obstacles.

A soft, low moan reached across from the other side of the van's cargo compartment, carried in the strange way that human hearing works to her through the buffeting wind and roar of the road speeding by underneath her feet. It was gentle, relaxed, seduced, the exact opposite to the type of sound most people would be making in their situation. But the sound gave Brianna an idea, a crazy, stupid, sacrificial idea that she would likely regret once she'd started to enact it. But if it helped, she'd try.

Quickly, Brianna stood up straight and put her hand on the door. If she exposed herself fully, the guards would be distracted, and if she still had enough brainpower to shoot once that sniper had opened fire on her exposed skin, she might be able to hook a shot or two inside the open window or even through the windshield. She only hoped she fell backwards after she'd been shot and not forwards and out the open door. Life would most certainly not look good for her then, although, she mused, perhaps she wouldn't feel it anymore by that point. Not if the trigger happy sniper hit her as much as she anticipated. She could already feel the various stings where she knew darts would be sinking deep into her.

With one last look over her shoulder at Amanda, some thoughts, some very not appropriate thoughts for her situation, thoughts most girls never really truly thought at her age, passed through her mind, and a wistful smile crossed her lips as she looked back at the zoned out girl gripping her bench tightly. Alas, she had business to attend to.

Just as Brianna stepped out of her cover, her pistol arm raised, her body exposed, she saw the van behind her swing leftwards, the sniper suddenly fully exposed, his upper half bent out the window, his rifle to his shoulder. At the same moment as she saw his long barrel swing fluidly around and point directly at her, the van shot forwards, rapidly approaching her. As the black figure leaning out the window grew in size as it came closer her pistol came up in her left hand and steadied itself, her arm dead straight.

As surprised as her brain was feeling at the sudden movement, her arm already knew what it was doing, and it lined itself up with her eye and locked the iron sights on the centre of the sniper's chest. Her arm twitched and accounted for the movement variances, and ever so gently she clicked the trigger home and the gun pulsed as her round shot off the mark, a simultaneous puff of displaced air shimmering as it erupted from the sniper's own weapon. The two darts, twin purple vials of pressurised hypnotic-barbiturate sedative, their black super light and super touch fibre resin shells clicking their feet out and beginning to spin as they passed each other in mid-air, ready to drive themselves home inside their targets, shot past each other, only a few inches separating them from one another.

And then, at the same time, across the road and across the deafening wind, the two human beings both jolted and fell, the sniper immediately dropping his rifle, forgotten, one hand idly moving to his chest as his eyes began to flutter, the super powerful serum already taking him down, his gun tumbling and clattering along the road behind them, lost forever. Brianna's arm jerked back as her weight tipped and she felt her legs collapse under her, her right hand on the door the only thing holding her up as she swung back behind the closed portion of the rear cabin and fell.

Up front, Rachel was focussing, her eyes locked forwards, her mind screaming at her, her teeth bared and her face determined. Gold was close to her, her gun hand ready in front of her, prepared to make use of the moment she had to shoot. Rachel slammed on the brakes and the vans shot past one another, leap frogging each other once again on the road, and Gold Eye's gun clicked and then the black vehicle was past them again.

For the longest time, nothing happened. The attacking van held its line, held its speed, about twenty feet up in front of the girls' car. Then, as Rachel held her foot down, the opposing black van began to slow down, moving back towards them as it lost speed. As they passed it, Gold and Rachel saw inside the cabin, seeing the middle-seated guard -- the pistol guard -- with one hand on his colleague in the driver's seat as his head lolled forwards. He was bent awkwardly, holding his fallen partner up with his arm bent while he tried to extract his left leg from over the transmission column. And, framing the picture, they could see the bent form of the sniper, hanging limply out the window, his arms breezing back and forth in the wind. Apparently he had gone down while the van had been behind theirs, and Gold Eyes had hit her mark on the driver. Rachel watched the pursuit car shrink away in the rear view mirror until it was a black speck far behind them.

And that was it. The fight was finally over. Having fought a weight-lifting, lesbian-stereotype woman fully chained, Rachel had gone on to escape the cells that had been her life up until this point in time for the past two months, discovered the guards' shed -- and what the guards liked to do on their lunch breaks -- gone back in, taken them down with their own sexual subduing drug, freed the other cellmates, made some allies, and gotten them all away -- alive. It all seemed a bit much for only a few hour's work. Beyond elated or happy, she just felt tired of it all. Gold, for her part, sat back in her seat, slumping down a little, letting her muscles finally relax. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. The silence said all it had to. Rachel drove on, shooting down the highway, bound for whatever town or city they might happen to chance upon on the road.

Eventually, about half an hour later, despite still gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, Rachel's body finally gave in to her tiredness and arousal and her brain let go of the world, letting the serum finally take over and do its work on her. Thankfully, she had slowly relaxed her pressure on the pedals as her mind was slowly distracted bit by bit by the drug, and she had only been crawling when she at last dropped her grip and fell sideways against Gold Eyes. For her part, Gold had been watching quietly, aware and awake, resting calmly until she was needed. When Rachel finally dropped to her side, she calmly lifted her up and out of the driver's seat, pulling her up onto the wide bench of the cabin seat and tucking her arms and legs in. She even carefully looped the seatbelt designed for the middle occupant around her harness and tucked the clip under her metal frame so as not to hurt her in her drug induced sexual slumber, before she carefully slid into the driver's seat herself, ignoring the warmth where the girl had been sitting, and taking off once more. She drove on in silence, the van now, at last, looking like a normal van, content to carry them onwards to their destination, wherever that might be.

* * * * *

Many hours later, the sun having disappeared over the horizon far ahead of them, the van gently rolled off the bitumen and bumped down a gravel and dirt road leading off the freeway. It slowly slid into a faded car park marked with dirty white lines, pulling to a gentle halt in front of a small semi-circle of low buildings. Under the cover of the darkness, Gold flicked her headlights off and turned off the engine, the van finally settling into still silence at last. Beside her, her feet pressed against Gold Eyes' thigh, Rachel slept peacefully, the worst of the drug's effects having passed over her, her body now needing to rest and recover strength from the intense action of the day. Cracking open her door, Gold undid her seatbelt and stepped down from the cabin, stretching her legs and arms and yawning widely, scratching herself all over.

She was in no rush now and she took her time on her skin, scratching this, rubbing that, poking here and squeezing there. Her butt was sore from the sitting, and her skin ached to be free of the chastity restraints that had been a constant part of her life for the past two months, especially now that she knew she could remove them. But before she could allow herself the pleasure, she stepped across the hard bitumen car park roadway under her bare feet and rounded to the rear of the van where she gently grasped the dart still lodged in the plastic of the rocker that opened the doors and pulled it free. It took her some time, having to pull it right through the plastic it had borrowed itself into, but eventually it clicked as it came away. Having had its momentum force it to rotate the rocker, it had never fully found itself a target, but now, as she yanked it free, it's four small, curved feet clicked outwards, their tiny barbs glinting dully in the twilight. Gold Eyes stepped back as she watched the bent needle spray its contents against the door like a tiny man pissing on the back of the van before she threw the offending item into the bushes. She turned the rocker and pulled the van doors open, revealing the crew of battered, tired and various kinds of dirty women inside.