Taking Out The Trailer Trash

Thanks to a fan named Bill, who provided the discovery method for this story.

If there are errors in the science, history, editing, or yadi yada they are mine alone. Unlike some, the buck stops here. I put this together yesterday so it is likely to be fraught with errors. Feel free to skip the history of the world section as there won't be a test at the end.

Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too.

Bobby Dall; et al.: "Was it something I said or something I did? Did my words not come out right?"

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Richard Tudor works in a relatively new field: DNA profiling as a forensics technique. Now that the genome has been mapped, it can be used to analyze past pandemics. He spends his time locating and analyzing the DNA of those who died decades or even centuries ago. From mass graves to private cemeteries, they get permission to extract DNA.

There have been three horrific pandemics in documented history. 'Documented' only dates back to the Black Death which ravaged the world for over two hundred years. Prior to that, there just aren't well chronicled surviving dissertations. The Black Death arrived in Europe in October 1347 and was a devastating global epidemic of bubonic plague. It menaced Europe and Asia until the mid-1500s. It started when twelve ships from the Black Sea docked at the Sicilian port of Messina. Estimates are that the world population was reduced by thirty percent. From four hundred seventy five million to under three hundred fifty million. Most of the deaths occurred in the first five years, but the plague continued for two hundred years. The world's population wouldn't return to the previous level until the 17th century. Several smaller bubonic plagues have occurred, but without such devastating consequences.

Another sad tale is Columbus and the Native Americans. The crews of those three ships were immune to, and carriers of, thousands of years of diseases which the Native Americans had yet to encounter. The mortality rate was phenomenal. The New World before Columbus: no typhoid, no flu, no smallpox, no measles. The New World after Columbus: epidemics of death. We will never know the exact magnitudes of the depopulation, but current estimates are that ninety percent of the Native American population was decimated in the one hundred years following 1492. Within 50 years following contact with Columbus and his crew, the native Taino population of the islands of Hispaniola, which had estimated populations between 60,000 and 8 million, was virtually extinct. Central Mexico's population fell from around 15 million in 1519 to approximately 1.5 million a century later. Historian and demographer Nobel David Cook estimates that, in the end, the regions least affected lost 80 percent of their populations; those most affected lost their full populations; and a typical society lost 90 percent of its population.

In comparison, the 1918 flu pandemic lasted under three years. Quite deadly as roughly 17 million died, but statistically that was only about one percent of the global population at the time. Some like to refer to it in a racist fashion, but it was a global pandemic, so H1N1 is the proper way to refer to it. H1N1 has reared its head a few more times, but modern medicine and best practices limited its impact.

A little about DNA and viruses. Have you ever used a Velcro fastener? It works with hooks and loops. Your DNA creates surfaces which vary slightly from person to person, think of them as the loops. Think of virus surfaces as having hooks. The immune system attempts to close the loops and flatten the hooks before the virus can multiply. Some DNA combinations are more susceptible to a particular virus. In those people, the virus hooks a loop early on and multiples at a pace faster than the immune system can respond. Thankfully our immune system remembers the hooks that it doesn't like.

The most contagious viruses are those with hooks of many shapes and sizes. They enter the body and immediately find a surface to hook. Since there are many shapes and sizes, flattening one type of hook does little to stop the spread.

The worst viruses are those which hook onto the lungs. The lung becomes covered with the virus, inhibiting proper movement, which produces pneumonia. No lungs = No life. A vaccine helps the body produce new antibodies which coat the lung loops and flatten the virus hooks, thus preventing the virus from attaching. Some people have lung surfaces which already prevent certain viruses from attaching. The purpose of a ventilator is to exercise the lung, preventing pneumonia, until the body's immune system can overpower the virus.

The most heinous, like the Black Death, find a DNA map where the introduction of the virus causes problems that the body can't combat in a timely fashion. The results are painful, deadly, and quite contagious. With the research Richard is doing, he has learned that the Black Death not only wiped out the sickliest, but also completely eliminated a DNA pattern.

Statistically, you can't deny it. If you had a particular DNA 'hole', there isn't a single person alive today with that same hole. It took the virus over two hundred years to track down all of those people, but a virus never really goes away. It may lay dormant, but it's always there. There are people who have the virus, but it doesn't affect them. They can still spread it when they sneeze. Outbreaks occur when multiple susceptible people are infected in a short period of time.

Think of it this way. Every person in your family is likely to have roughly the same inherited risks in their DNA pattern. So, it makes sense that when anyone in your family becomes infected, the likelihood that you will also become infected is quite high.

With the work Richard is doing, they hope to be able to find a DNA pattern in those most adversely affected by new viruses. Knowing that, vaccines can be distributed for those most at risk.

Enough about what Richard does for a living. He's been pondering if infidelity is something that could be detected by analyzing DNA. Imagine the possibilities.

'Lady, before you say I do, are you aware that Mister has a seventy percent chance of cheating? Mister, before you say I do, are you aware that Lady has a twenty percent chance of cheating?'

Why has he been pondering that? Because his former bride must have had one of those high chance of cheating numbers.

Richard was married to Colette. Same old boring background, complete with sex before marriage, dwindling sex during marriage, and then sex outside of marriage. No, not swinging, but Colette spreading her charms hoping that Richard wouldn't find out. Until recently, about six months after his divorce was granted, Richard hadn't had sex with another woman since he and Colette swore to be exclusive with each other.

Richard had fun bringing them down, and there just isn't enough evidence to bring charges against him, yet.

Richard felt like he was clueless, as he suspected most husbands were. You assume your spouse is committed to your relationship as much as you are. So what went wrong?

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Nine months ago:

Richard and Colette were thinking about buying their first home. This would also be the first time applying for a home loan. The lending paperwork spelled out how the interest rate would be set based upon their individual credit scores. It was advised that they 'clean up' the inaccurate negative reports prior to applying for the loan.

The lending company's website had a sample rate calculator. The first thing was to establish an account on Experian, so each could see their credit report. His credit rating was six eighty and simply getting it above seven hundred would save big bucks on the mortgage payment. He knew enough about Colette to set up her account on Experian. Her credit score was six twenty.

The task became 'find the problems' and 'eliminate them'. Not much he could do about those late payments. There was a ding item from a company he'd never heard of. He filled out the objection form and submitted it.

It was getting late, so Richard shut down the computer for the evening.

Colette's credit report was perplexing. There was only one negative entry, which wasn't enough to justify her lower score. So Richard practiced his broken English and waded through various customer support people. Even though he told them that he understood that they couldn't discuss Colette's account, they still wouldn't help giving an overview of how that score was computed. Finally a very nice lady explained that quite possibly, 'hint hint hint' she said, someone could have too many credit cards for her stated income.

That made no sense. He thought they had the same charge cards and he only made two grand a year more than she did. So he looked closer. Sure as hell. He had two credit cards and Colette had three. The rogue credit card gets paid off monthly. The amount paid ranged from one fifty to two hundred. Richard hadn't caught it because he was solely focused on finding the negative reports.

Now that Richard knew of the card, he needed to find out what those charges were. He worked until three in the morning before exhaustion overcame him.

Friday night Richard successfully hacked into Colette's credit card account. All of the charges were for Luxury Suites Motel on the south side of town, about twenty miles away. Every Tuesday as it turns out.

To say Richard was in a foul mood over the weekend is more than accurate. He had a plan, and was lining up the necessary players. That required using a throw-away phone, which he picked up early on Saturday. Did he need further proof? Not really, but decided he could suspend his devious plan if something seemed amiss.

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Tuesday, noon, Luxury Suites Motel, a very small business:

"As you can see Mr. Travis, we are still undergoing some renovation. Instead of your normal room, you'll be in one of the temporary trailers. Don't worry, it has more features than our standard rooms."

"That's fine, we had one last week. We're not going to be here that long."

"Great. You'll be in the trailer without a number, about twenty yards past the one numbered fifteen. The numbers are clearly marked in the upper left. Have a great stay" winking as he handed the key to Bart, who was sporting a big smirk.

The clerk smiled. They both knew what was about to happen.

Walking outside, key in hand, Bart motioned to Colette.

"It'll be easier to walk than drive. Here's your credit card back" he told her as she approached.

Hooking wings, they strolled down the line of trailers. As advised, the unmarked trailer was the last one, oddly placed considering that one through fifteen were in a tidy row. Entering the trailer they quickly pulled the curtains closed.

"Let me silence my cell phone" was followed a few seconds later with "that's strange, I have no service" Colette calmly told Bart.

"That is weird, I have no bars either. I did back in the office. Whatever, we didn't want to be bothered anyway."

Colette started doing a strip tease for Bart. He slowly worked his belt open, then the snap, and finally his zipper. Pushing the lump in his boxers aside, the pants slid down his legs.

Once Colette was naked, he pulled her close. Her hands slid into his boxers, fondling his hard cock. Squeezing her boobs, and flicking her nipples, Bart's cock started leaking pre-cum. Sinking to her knees, she slid his boxers down, and licked the released cock. His hands found the back of her head and he thrust his cock deeper into her mouth. He didn't want to cum in her mouth though. Rather, he found great pleasure in leaving his cum inside his conquests. Making cuckolds of husbands stoked his ego.

Colette laid flat on her back, pushing her legs high and wide. Bart wasn't gentle, impaling her deep and quick.

The couple was too busy humping to notice that the outside light had now been completely dampened, and that the inside lights were emitting darkness.

"Yes, yes! Oh gawd, I'm close. Oh! OH! MORE! MORE!"

And then they felt a lurch as the trailer started rolling.

"What the fuck!" as Bart stopped drilling.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO! Don't stop! I'm so close!"

They felt the rumbling as the trailer tilted into a turn. When Bart pulled the curtain open, it was still completely dark.

His raised voice briefly scared Colette "The lights don't work!"

"Try the door!"

"SHIT! It's stuck too."

There was a bump and wiggle as the trailer tilted into another turn. The motion almost caused Bart to lose his balance.

"IT'S A SETUP!" screamed Bart.

"What are you talking about?" from a very worried Colette.

"Somebody knew we were going to the motel today and planted this trailer. This was no accident. That clerk was in on it."

"Oh gawd. Richard knows! He's behind this. I know he is."

Every once in a while the trailer would rock hard left or right. As the couple tried desperately to find a way out of their rolling prison cell, a speaker startled them.

"Good afternoon Colette, and you too asshole. You shitheads were really into it when your trip began."

"Oh gawd Richard? What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm sitting at my desk, using a new app. What are you doing Colette?"

"Regretting some stupid decisions. What are your plans for us?"

"Well, let's see. Nobody can hear you but me. The text message I just received tells me that you are now on the highway. I'm torn about what to do. My initial plan was for you to have a traffic accident and sink this trailer into the lake. That's still on the table, but I want a little more suffering. What do you think about leaving the trailer in the arid southwest desert? No windows and over one hundred ten outside. I bet it would get upwards of one hundred thirty in that can of cunts. Up until a few minutes ago, you both probably thought you were the smartest cheaters the world had ever seen. I only wish I would have thought of a way for you to suffer. Bart, I just got off the phone with your wife, and she is headed down to the comic book store to sell your beloved collection. She hopes she can get at least a hundred bucks for the lot."

Bart groaned "Awwwwww fuck! That's a fifty grand collection."

"Yeah, exempted by your pre-nuptial agreement. If you don't want to sell it you should call her, because its value is about to plummet. Colette, I got fifty bucks for your grandmother's ring and pendant. I'll put it in an envelope for you. Those people at the Cash-4-Gold place were really friendly. I'll probably head back with the rest of your jewelry box."

"Oh Gawd! Tell me you're joking Richard."

"You're mother isn't happy with you. I told her you pawned it so you could buy spermicide. She's really led a sheltered life. I had to explain what spermicide is, and why you needed it."

Now through her sobs, Colette repeated her question "What are your plans for us?"

"Well about now, I can well imagine you're in the mood to offer me anything to let you live. But, for now, just sit back and relax. You'll be on the road for several hours. I'll be back in touch."

Over the next three hours Colette and Bart took turns yelling "RICHARD!"

The silence pierced their souls. Bart's attempts to find anything capable of busting out a wall, ceiling, or floorboard were unsuccessful. His attempt to have sex with Colette left him with scratch marks across his face, which start bleeding again every time he touched them.

When the trailer slowed, they guessed, correctly if that matters, that they were stopping for gas. Perfect! They could scream, getting the attention of anyone nearby. That plan failed when the speaker, with volume up, emitted a high pitched sound which caused severe pain in the pair's ears. They tried to scream, but there was no savior. The reality was that the truck had simply parked on an off-ramp, where the driver filled the tank from five gallon cans.

As the truck lurched to a start, the speaker resumed its silent treatment.

Colette tried a different approach and used her sexiest version of "Richard?"

Did it work? Hard to tell. It was three more hours before the pair was interrupted from their misery.

"Hi again slut and asswipe. I've changed my mind. After you reach your destination, I'm going to give you two minutes to exit the trailer before shooting the propane tank. The resulting fire will destroy everything. You best be thinking about how you're going to get out when it stops. I'll be back in touch."

Bart responded angrily "Richard, you know we can't escape! That's murder!"

Too bad the pair couldn't see the grin on Richard's face as he responded "Premeditated. But then again, they'd have to find your bodies."

"Richard, please! I can change. I'll be the best wife ever."

When the speaker ignored her, she now had doubts that her brief attempt to elicit mercy may have backfired.

It wasn't long after that exchange that the trailer slowed and tilted into a sweeping left turn. Their eyes had become accustomed to the miniscule amount of light seeping into the trailer. Instead of loving caresses, Colette had distanced herself from Bart.

Without warning the speaker came to life "Well bitch. Show time! Its pitch black outside. I just turned the stop watch on. Two minutes is ticking away rather quickly. Get out now, while you still can. The only light you're going to see is the trailer burning to the ground. After that, you'll have to rely on your ability to see by the stars. Looks like Venus is visible tonight. Kind of symbolic, don't you think? Rather than leaving it to chance, the driver is going to put a bunch of steaks on the roof of the trailer. Then, when it burns, the smell of roasting flesh, yours or the steaks, should draw the attention of animals with big teeth. Good luck fending them off in the dark. Roast in hell bitch!"

Bart and Colette were now at each other's throats. The trailer had stopped moving. Bart took his shoe and started banging on the vent in the roof. That's when they heard the howling. Coyotes? Wolves? They hadn't a clue. As city slickers it might as well have been dinosaurs. The scratching on the outside of the trailer sent waves of panic through the pair. The yipping and howling had been replaced with growling. They couldn't get out, but what if the animals could get in?

Just as suddenly as the noises started, they ended. The truck driver turned the boom box off and put the rakes back into the bed of the truck. Grabbing two short pieces of two by four lumber, he clapped them together several times. It made a pretty loud sound. Next he squirted starter fluid onto the pile of cardboard and newspapers. Turning a fan on, pointed towards a funnel, which pushed the grey smoke into the trailer.

Lordy, Lordy, the screams. Perhaps somebody thought they were going to be cremated alive. On a second funnel, the sleeping gas was released. A few minutes later, the screaming and banging ceased. Just to make sure, the sleeping gas continued for another minute.

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Colette was drowsy. The sunlight felt good on her skin. Her eyes didn't seem to want to open. When she went to scratch her chest, she realized she was topless. Further examination revealed she was naked. She forced her eyes open and found the sun high in the sky. This was her car. After visually confirming she was naked, she scanned her environment. The fifteen numbered temporary trailers were still there. An envelope, with an I O U for fifty dollars in it, was in the cup holder. An immediate lump in her throat started choking her when she saw her rings missing. She was in the motel parking lot, but without clothes, keys, or her cell phone. A few bystanders were busy snapping and sharing photos of the naked woman.

Looking a few parking slots over, she noticed bystanders taking pictures of another vehicle. Only when one stepped aside did she realize that Bart shared the same uncomfortable predicament she found herself in. The difference was that Bart was screaming and his hand was bloody when it appeared.