Strange Queens Ch. 03

'I put on a show of drunkenness,' Bogdan said, theatrically wobbling in his seat, gesturing to his dirty shirt, 'like this. But they did not believe it. The front man, he got suspicious. When he was not sure about my identity, I shot at him.' Alyona froze, her cup an inch from her lips. 'Oh, no no no, not shot him. Just at him. He not knew that my shotgun has paint bullet in it, from my experiment with shooting paint onto canvas,' Bogdan said, 'But I thought it best to leave him believing that the red on him was something worse than paint.' Alyona had continued her sip of hot chocolate, relieved that their saviour hadn't been a murderous one.

'And here we are, with warm drink and clothes for us.' Bogdan said simply, satisfied in his tale. He took a long, gulping drink from his own mug, wiping his wet lips on the back of his huge hand. 'But tell me, now. Why are two young girls running through Bogdan's property, chased by big men? What happened?'

Rachel looked to her little sister, who looked back somewhat questioningly. Rachel grabbed her hand and held it tightly, looking intently to her sister. 'Hey, could you do me a favour? I left my shoes up on the roof before. Ask our friend if he has an umbrella or a coat you can borrow and run and grab them for me, would you, big girl?' Rachel asked gently. Her sister, far from reluctant to have to leave and go back outside, put her cup down and gave her sister a hug. Bogdan stood and, striding beside the comparatively tiny girl, took a raincoat from a hook for her. It was a jacket for Bogdan, but on Rachel's little sibling it covered most of her easily, and had a huge hood that would protect her well from the wet. He helped her up the stairs and opened the door for her before returning to Rachel in the makeshift living space.

'You send little one outside to do menial work for you.' Bogdan said as he stepped off the stairs. Rachel could hear a tone of disapproval in his voice. But as he came over to her, she saw not disappointment in his features, but a grave, serious expression instead. 'This means there is something she must not hear. What were the men chasing you for?' he breathed. It took Rachel a minute moment to realise that he had had a much greater insight into her and her sister than she gave him credit for; the man had already worked out that she wouldn't simply send her little sister out in the pouring, blistering cold to get her shoes when she could have done so herself. And he was right, too. Rachel didn't want her sister knowing why they had been in so much danger. Not yet. Not at all, if she could avoid it.

Rachel took a deep breath. 'Three weeks ago my parents were served a notice saying that our house had been dropping behind in payments and was overdue. Though we don't pay much, we earn little between the three of us, and my sister, Alyona, has needs. We can't afford to send her to school, but my mother was determined to give her some kind of lessons herself. We needed some books, workbooks, stationary, things like that, and that had meant just a little less money to the bills. My father did well, balancing who he underpaid, who he could count on to give him time to repay small amounts. But the bank knew, they always did. They sent out a letter, and shortly after a repossession van arrived out the front.

They had come in like they owned us, strolling around our house, taking things, pocketing our only possessions. One of them came into our room, our mother was there with us, holding tightly onto us. He went through everything, opening drawers, tipping out boxes. He took my wallet, and my sister had a little money tin she was saving silver in every week. She couldn't have had much in there, but she had been saving like a little trooper every day, looking forward to dropping one or two more coins in it. She often said to me, "Rachel! Listen to how full it sounds!" The guy just poured the money into his pocket and stood on her tin.' Rachel was staring at her feet, remembering. 'My sister was crying then. Mum couldn't do anything, just watch and hold us as he found our underwear. I can still remember her covering my sister's eyes as he lifted one of my pairs to his face and sniffed. Mother practically hurt my shoulder, her hand was so tight. He pocketed those, too. When they were done one of them told us they hadn't found enough to recoup the payments we owed. That was when they started grabbing us.'

'Mother did her best, she fought them. But there were more of them than she could handle. She kicked one of them in the balls, but another guy hit her from behind. The last thing I saw was her on her knees, as me and my sister were forced into the back of the van. I still remember Aly screaming for her. Then there was lots of moving. We were taken somewhere, left in the car for a long time, locked in. Then a while later, the car moved again, going for a while this time. After that we ended up here, I don't know where exactly, on the corner of this dark block. We were dragged out by our arms, these guys holding our necks so we couldn't push away, and then taken behind this shop. My sister just cried the whole time. I couldn't quite see properly, it was raining on us, but this big dude with some black armour stuff on crouched down, looked at me, held my chin. He touched me, felt me in places, checked my body, like he was checking to make sure he was buying the best on the shelf.

Then he watched my face while he felt my sister, too. Watched my face as I was held there, looking at his hand sliding over her. I could have torn his testicles off. And then he was talking to the van guys, handing over money. The van left, and he just looked at me. He ordered us to get up, to come with him, and we did. But my sister didn't go, so he pushed her, hard. She dropped her bear, and that's when she snapped. I don't think he expected her to go nuts, but she did, she hit him right in the stomach. It actually stunned him for a moment, and I just grabbed her hand and she grabbed her teddy and we were running. The other guys joined him and they chased us, and here we are. You saved our lives, Mister Bogdan.' Rachel said, as she looked up, her eyes glassy and moist. The sadness was plastered all over her face. 'Thank you.' She added, simply.

The door cracked open and cold, razor slicing air tore into the room. With a dull clang, it shut, and little Alyona came down the steps two at a time, a pair of dripping, mud covered shoes in one hand, her head nearly completely covered by the hood on Bogdan's hugely oversized coat. She threw it off and laid the shoes on their toes against the edge of the bottom step, the hood falling back over her head in the process. She threw it back again and was over to her sister in moments. Rachel sniffed her tears back and pushed a strand of damp hair back over her ear, away from her face, as she sat back up in her chair. The sight of her little sister coming over brought a smile to her face, and Bogdan found himself quietly appreciating how pretty Rachel was behind her muddy, saddened exterior.

She had even, slightly olive toned skin framed by her wavy dark red hair, hair that was presently strewn about her shoulders, still wet from its time outside, with two glowing blue eyes set in her attractive face. They were without doubt eyes that spoke volumes, Bogdan thought. He saw an intelligent depth running deep inside them, despite the fact that she wasn't looking in his direction at all. A twinge of rueful sadness crossed his face as he saw the same thing that made her beauty stand out to him, standing out to people that would want her just to sell it for exorbitant prices. People, Bogdan already knew, who operated such shady transactions much more freely and frequently than people were generally led to believe.

'Rachel looked up from over the shoulder of the younger sister who was now perched on Rachel's knees. Now that she was facing him, Bogdan could see the semblance in their features, see the touches of waves in the smaller girl's hair too. 'Mister, uh, Bogdan, my sister and I would both like to say thank you for helping us tonight. If you hadn't been here, we might not have gotten away, and that wouldn't have been a good thing.' Rachel said, looking at her sister and brushing some hair from her face. 'So thank you.'

Bogdan put an arm across his waist and, from his sitting position, gave a low bow. 'Net, spasibo. Spasibo vam oboim. Thank you both for coming into my life tonight, and teaching Bogdan that there is still a reason he is here.' Bogdan said, genuinely.

Rachel smiled and lightly squeezed her sister's shoulder warmly. 'We should be going, little one. Our companion has done much for us already.' But before Rachel could even move, Bogdan was already shaking his head.

'No no no, you can't go back out there. Not tonight. Those men will look for you until the sun comes up and work of the day begins. Please, let me provide you with rest here for the night.' Bogdan said, his eyes meeting Rachel's. She took a long moment to reply, searching his face, but she could find no hint of treachery or deceit. And after all, she thought, he had hidden them, protected them, given them clothes and warm drinks, and had shared stories with them. If he was going to sell them off, they would likely already be on their way back to the place with the evil looking man. And this time, most likely, in cuffs.

'Thank you, Bogdan. We... We would both like that very much.' Rachel said to him. 'But where?' she looked about herself, but there was only the one bed about them, and the rest of Bogdan's warehouse was an array of work areas. No beds to be found, or rolls of sheets and hay, for that matter.

'You use my bed tonight,' Bogdan said firmly. 'I have clean sheets for it, and Bogdan has his own backup for sleeping. Go prepare yourselves for rest, I will prepare the bed.' Bogdan said as he stood. Rachel, of course, made to argue, but he looked at her and she could see the sincerity written in his eyes. In moments, Alyona was up and over by the man's huge sleeping spot. 'I'll help! I'm ready for bed, I promise! Please?' she asked, looking up at him. He gave her a big grin and strode over to a cupboard with her behind him, swinging it open to reveal a neat row of shelving arrayed with various bedding sheets and covers. 'These I made myself!' he announced to her. 'Best fits in all of homeland. Come, you take this,' he handed her a neatly rolled sheet, 'and I show you how it goes on quickly and easily!'

Rachel just watched them, standing there by the small outdoor table, her mug of warm milk sitting on it, forgotten for the moment. Though she didn't show it, her mind was swimming in emotions -- her parents, her mother, beaten and helpless, her sister, her face dripping with tears, bent on her knees beside her, and of her, her desperate run, her fear for herself and Aly, the desperation not to be caught, the absolute terror of what would happen to them if they were, and then, in complete contrast, the humble kindness shown by the big, burly Bogdan now. It was all almost too much for her.

Taking a deep breath and shaking herself mentally from her revelry, Rachel picked up her mug and drained the rest of the warm milk inside. It wasn't the nicest but it was warm and it was good, and she needed something in her. Finishing it, she absently wiped her lips on her sleeve, only realising as she did so that it was the sleave of one of Bogdan's shirts she had on.

Rachel put her hands to the small of her back and bent, cracking some joints before doing the same for each side. She stretched her arms up and yawned, her body finally beginning to relax, her muscles starting to ache from the run, her chest tender, her heart still ready just in case she needed it pumping hard once again. Stepping from her place before the chair, she padded bare-foot around the makeshift separating wall Bogdan had built half splitting his work area from his living space and found the sink there. A sink for washing paints in, it was dirty but big, and didn't have to be too clean. That was fine by Rachel. She turned the tap and watched the uneven gush of clean, clear water tumble from the tap, cupping her hands and bending over to splash it over her face.

She rinsed and repeated, washing herself of the day's troubles, running her went hands over her hair, even taking a moment to lift her shirt and do what she could with her body. The cold water wouldn't degrease, nor would it deodorise, but it would be some semblance of clean nonetheless, and Rachel would take it over nothing any day. The sounds of Bogdan's gruff, baritone voice talking animatedly with her sister's lighter, higher pitched voice in the background was somewhat soothing, and Rachel found herself oddly peaceful as she idly cleaned herself over.

When she came back around the wall, lifting her pants by the waist and finishing tucking her shirt in, she found Bogdan's bed freshly made with a new layer of clean sheets. Bogdan was in the process of shaking up the duvet and laying it flat on the freshly sheeted mattress. Far from a small, one man bed, Bogdan's was a huge double bed with plain but ornate wooden sides and a solid wood headboard. The bed, Rachel guessed, had perhaps been from when his wife had used it too. It made sense, then, that he might keep it, partially because of the cost and sourcing of a new one, and partially because of the memories it held for him. Besides, Rachel mused wryly, a man as big and strong as Bogdan would need a large bed, so the double was probably a pleasant size for him.

As her sister jumped up and settled herself in, Rachel turned to their gracious host.

'Where will you sleep, then, if we take your bed?' she asked him. He smiled and gestured with a flourish towards a low, layout mattress he'd placed in a dark corner across the room.

'This used to be my bed when I worked here many years ago,' he said. 'I slept here when I worked late, and my boss was happy enough to let me stay here, given that having someone on the property would make it safer than it would be if left alone. This isn't the most secure of warehouses, and I had a, let's say, choppy household myself. We did each other favour by letting me sleep here, and when he had accident a year ago, I moved in proper and made it my home. Now, it always safe place.' Bogdan told them, looking about before back to the girls. 'Now! To bed. Rest well, both of you. Tomorrow we shall see what we can do to get you back home safe.' And with that, Bogdan strode off to his makeshift sleeping quarters, leaving the two sisters alone to their night.

Rachel could only watch him go, a strange feeling -- a humbleness, she guessed -- at the kindness the complete stranger had shown. She couldn't help but feel her heart pulse at the kind things he had done for them, completely without reason or reward. With little else left to do, and with her sister beckoning her over, Rachel put her thoughts aside for the night, and resigned herself only to sleep, as she climbed under the sheets beside her little sister. The rest of the world could come tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow would be another day.

* * * * *

Stepping up to the grey corrugated iron door, Rachel pressed one ear roughly against the rusty metal. She listened intently for anyone inside, holding her breath.

Ten seconds passed. No sound. Still Rachel waited, another five seconds, then five more.

Finally, hearing nothing, she readied her stub-nosed, dart loaded pistol in her good hand and reached for the handle with her other. She tensed, ready to spring, ready to move. Then, with one lightning-quick motion, the door was flying wide and Rachel was in, her pistol firmly held out before her, her fingers tight on its grip. She saw benches arrayed around, cafeteria style, with a kitchen like table on the far end. Various bowls, plates and containers were arrayed over it, a few packets left upturned on the floor. There were five benches in total, the wooden kind of benches you tend to find in parks or schools, with their seats attached as one long strip of wood. Three stood on the far side from Rachel, two on her side, laid out horizontally, an isle down the middle. The sixth bench, if there had been one, would have been right in front of Rachel, in the doorway.

On four of the benches, more bowls were strewn, spoons and forks left in them or by them. One such bench, however -- the furthest from Rachel -- was clear of utensils. This one, instead, had all its eating tools under it, forks and knives left on the chairs and on the floor, plates and dishes lying abandoned or shattered by them. This table's eating space, evidentially, had been invaded by a large amount of action, Rachel saw. Somehow, she didn't need to guess at what action that had been.

Although she desperately didn't want it to, her imagination was already conjuring up images of the defenceless girl and her plunderers up for her. She could see them now, unlatching her cuffs, spreading her legs wide, some of them holding her open for others to enter, while more still roamed her upper body freely, perhaps taking advantage of the hapless female's upturned position to tip her head off the edge of the bench and enter her orally, too. She could almost hear the muffled sounds that would be her desperate screams, forced back down her throat along with the dick plunging into her. Or perhaps they would be moans, given the amount of barbiturate coursing through her. Perhaps she wouldn't feel it that much at all, Rachel mused, somewhat in an attempt to lessen the revolting pain she felt for the girl. Perhaps she couldn't feel much at all.

Tipping her pistol back, holding it pointing upwards, Rachel strode quickly over to the bench and touched the wood lightly. It was still warm. She didn't bother analysing the small, dark spots dotted on it, nor the droplets underneath it on the floor. Those could go without her attention. She already knew what they would be.

Approaching the kitchen, Rachel made quick work of checking out the food there. There was little of interest, most of it half eaten and picked at meals. These were obviously not underfed guards, by any means, but the food was hardly prepared courses for them. She saw purchase salads, cakes and baked pastries, sandwiches and more. Other than that, there was very little that peeked her interest there, bar a meat knife sitting beside a dollar fifty-cake, which she scraped off before sliding it into her belt.

Picking up some unopened sandwiches, she made to leave the shed, when something glinting on the ground under the offending table stood out to her. She paused and looked closer. There was a sliver of metal there that wasn't a fork or knife, something smaller, sitting half-wedged under a broken plate. Crouching on her haunches and lifting the plate, she extracted the piece of metal from a squashed slice of pie which had plummeted down here with its companion plate, and frowned. It was a key. A small, glinting key.

Standing up, Rachel looked at the key for a moment. Then, as though a gear was ticking in her head, her eyes flicked to the table, the same table that had been subject to rather a lot of attention just a few minutes ago. The same table that...

... That one of the captive girls had been on.

And then it clicked for her. The image of the girl, frozen in time, her body held back by black gloved hands as she was ruthlessly penetrated, flashed back to her in an instant. But as horrifying as she found the picture, something very important stood out to her now. The girl was out of her chains, Rachel realised. In order to get to her body, the same thing that stopped the girls from frigging themselves would stop the guards from attempting to enter them -- their chastity belts. So they would have had to remove them to have their fun, and in order to remove a locked belt, one needed a key. And here, sitting abandoned under a table on which one such chastity-enslaved girl had been freed from her chastity belt, Rachel had found a key.