Date: Sat, 06 Dec 2003 01:44:38 -0800 From: RC in Sacramento Subject: Becka Chapter 24 This is a work of fiction from a first time author. It depicts acts of sex and sexuality between two teenage females. If such content disturbs you, or you are under 18, get out and stay out. As always, this story can only be reproduced by consent of the author. Becka the Beast by SacWriter Chapter 24*** Mojo lowered the powerful Bushnell binoculars from his eyes, blinking at the change of focus, and then murmured, "Yeah, that's her alright. That's Ralph's little bitch." "Bout time, dude," Ponyboy said, his voice fairly crackling with energy. Junky energy, Mojo thought. The asshole had shot up that morning, and he was still jittery. "So when we gonna take her, Moje?" "I told you before, don't call me that. My name is Mojo. And we'll take the bitch as soon as she's alone. There's a hundred witnesses out there, you stupid freak." Mojo's words chastised Ponyboy enough that he was quite for a whole ten minutes, but pretty soon he was fidgeting in his seat again, like a kid who had to pee but was afraid to ask. Mojo put down the Bushnells and sighed, thinking bad thoughts about hopheads before turning to the one sitting with him in the back of the van. "Alright, Pony, what is it?" "Moje, when we get Ralphie's kid, can I have her first?" Mojo swore so sharply that it made Ponyboy wince. "Listen, you diseased piece of crap, there's no way in hell I'm taking sloppy seconds from a strung out junkie like you! You keep it in your pants until I'm done, or so help me I'll put a bullet in your ass!" Ponyboy was hanging his head like a whipped dog, but he still managed to get in one more stupid complaint. "It's not fair, Moje. Ralphie hasn't let me near his kid in over two years. Now that he wants us to get rid of her, it should be my turn first. It's just not fair." "Ralph hasn't let you touch her 'cause you've been on the horse, you idiot. You've been sharing needles in every shooting gallery from here to Santa Monica, you could've given that kid four kinds of clap just by breathing on her. And that's why I'm getting her first. You got that, asshole?" Ponyboy settled back into a sullen funk, but at least he was quiet. Mojo grunted, and then returned to peering through the big side window of the old van, across the parking lot to the school opposite. The van was a Ford Econoline, the kind that originally came out in the eighties and had big bay windows along the side. Mojo and the rest of the crew had been using it for the last week to keep an eye on the school, trying to get a glimpse of Ralph's kid, the one who had gone blabbing to the cops and was going to put them all away. The van was only one of several vehicles that the crew owned, and used in their drug smuggling business, but it was by far the best for this particular operation. The tinted, oversized windows made it possible for them to watch the school without being seen themselves, which would have inevitably led to some nosey neighbor calling the cops on them. The carpeted floors and the upholstered seats were also a bonus. The stakeout had been Ralph's idea, told to Mojo on the one visit he had been allowed in the prison ward of the hospital. Mojo still couldn't think of that meeting without feeling a cold chill run up and down his spine. The grizzled old bastard had lain there on the big, white hospital bed, looking more like a shrunken corpse than the mean sumbitch he'd been taking orders from for the past ten years. Christ, he was even missing his two front teeth! But the one uncovered eye had glittered at him in a way that made his skin crawl, and when he'd pried up the bandage to show him the ravaged mess that had once been his face, Mojo had had to swallow the gorge that threatened to rise up in his throat. There was no doubt about it, Ralph Danning still knew how to throw a spook into him. But that didn't mean the canny old bastard wasn't right. If that little slut kid of his ever got on the stand and started naming names, she could cause everybody in Ralph's crew a world of hurt. And not just for popping her cork like they had, either. Once the cops started poking around and asking questions, it wouldn't be long before they found out about the drug dealing and the other elicit sidelines that the crew were involved in. Shit, she'd already connected them to the Gallegos, Pete and Benny had come to town last night with their small army of lawyers to face the arraignment on Wednesday. Not that they seemed any too worried about it, they were treating it as just another minor annoyance, and were planning on spending the week partying in L.A. But while the cops could never seem to lay a finger on players like the Gallegos, they had always been pretty good at messing things up for small fry like Mojo and the rest of the crew. So like Ralph said, they had to find a way to keep big mouthed Becka from testifying against them. Which was why he and Ponyboy had two shovels and a tarp in the back of the van. "Hey, Moje!" Ponyboy said, poking the bigger man in the shoulder with one finger, as he pointed out the side window with another. "See that lil' Meskin' girl hangin' with Becka? D'ya think she's one of the greasers that carved up Ralphie?" "Don't be an idiot, Pony. Ralph said it was five big dudes that messed him up. She look like a dude to you?" "Well, no, but ... hey, she's comin' right this way!" Mojo quickly looked around, thinking Pony had meant Ralph's kid, but saw instead that he had been talking about the Mexican girl. The long haired little piece had turned away from Becka and the other three kids, and was walking in their general direction. But halfway through the parking lot she turned off, veering towards a spot that had been sectioned off with orange traffic cones. There was obviously some sort of construction going on there, the concrete had been dug up to form a large open pit, and the slab-like blocks of ragged cement had been stacked to the side in an uneven pile. The girl approached the concrete heap and then sat down on it, facing back towards the small group of girls that she had just left. "Hey, hey Moje! Why don't we get the greaser chick, instead? I mean, she's right there, and we probably won't get no chance at Ralph's kid, anyway." The idea of imminent rape was obviously exciting Ponyboy, who was squirming in his seat and tugging on the other man's arm. Mojo angrily swatted at the hand, and was about to snap at the strung out druggie next to him when he stopped, considering his words. Damn, the stupid hophead might have a point. He and the others had been keeping an eye on the school for over a week now, watching the comings and goings of some five hundred freakin' kids, and this was the first time that they had even seen their intended victim. And even now she was surrounded by too many people, too many potential witnesses, for them to risk grabbing her here. But they didn't really have to kill the little bitch, now did they? They didn't even have to snatch her. All they really had to do was make sure the kid didn't testify on Wednesday, so maybe they could just throw a scare into her. Show her what happens to little girls who go telling stories to the pigs. Yeah, that would work. Becka was obviously friends with the little Spic girl, although it was hard thinking of Ralphie's kid as having anybody she cared about. She had always been one poker faced piece of tail, never showing anything, never giving anything away, not matter what you did to her. It was kind of spooky at times. But it seemed like she had gotten along with some of these kids, like the three she was talking to right now. Maybe she even cared what happened to them. And Greaser Girl was right over there, all by herself. Mojo crawled to the front seat and got behind the wheel. "Grab that blanket in back," he said to Ponyboy, as he turned the keys and started the big engine. * * * Gia sat on the pile of concrete debris, shifting uncomfortably on the sharp edged rubble. She was staring back across the parking lot at the four girls she had just left, and trying to figure out what she was feeling. It was hard to put her finger on it, whenever she tried to pin the emotions down they seemed to slip away, like trying to pick up a greasy marble. Was she angry? Hurt? Did she want to hit someone, or just go away and hide? Gia didn't know, but whatever this feeling was, it sure sucked. And why did she care so much? Why was she so torn up about the opinions of two straight girls who she hadn't even known two months ago? Girls who, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find a single thing that she had in common with. Dammit, there was no reason for her to be this stressed out about losing the respect of such a couple of twits, who thought that the most important event of the day was finding a lipstick that matched their nail polish! She shouldn't be so upset. So why was she? Do they hate me? she wondered, and felt her throat swell at the thought. Gia looked again at the tiny group across the parking lot, and felt her lips twitch wryly. From the looks of things, Becka and Sammie were giving the other two pure hell. It wouldn't help, she knew, you can't change someone's mind just by yelling at them. But she couldn't help resenting Justine and Kelly for turning on her, and it was satisfying to know that Becka was making them squirm. Petty, true, but still- The thought ended suddenly in smothering darkness, as something heavy was thrown over her head. A blanket or maybe a tarp, thick and heavy, with the reek of filth and motor oil. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her chest, crushing the breath from her lungs and dragging her backwards across the jagged debris. She was so shocked she never noticed when a knife sharp piece of concrete tore through her jeans and gouged a six inch wound in her leg. Fear exploded inside her like fireworks, as she was half dragged, half carried across the parking lot. It had happened so fast that she couldn't think, could barely breath, but she could still act. The reflexes her father had instilled in her for more than half her life came to her, as she instinctively fought to save herself. There were two of them, the big one who held her wrapped in the blanket, and a smaller one who held her legs and was giggling insanely. Gia reached up and grasped the arms around her chest for leverage, and then jerked her legs up to her body as hard as she could. She felt them slip from the grip of the giggler, and then as she jackknifed them up and out with all of her might, felt them slam back into his face. The larger man's hold on her loosened, and as her feet finally contacted the ground she managed to get one arm loose, just for a few seconds. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to rip the smothering cloth from her head and scream. Something struck her in the belly, a fist or maybe a foot, cutting off her cry for help into an agonized choking. The giggler grabbed her again and helped the big man pull the blanket back over her head, only this time he wasn't giggling anymore, he was cursing foully and threatening to do things that Gia tried desperately not to picture. In seconds they were once more dragging her across the parking lot, only this time she could no longer resist. Through the distance and the blanket and the pain, she thought she heard someone call her name. Becka felt her heart slam to a dead halt, as she recognized the two figures dragging her lover away. She recognized the brown van they were heading for, too, knew in a horrified instant of clarity what they planned to do to Gia. What they would do, if she didn't stop the. She broke into a desperate run. A lifetime of surviving by her wits made her twist her head over her shoulder and shout, "Call 9-1-1!" as her long legs started to pick up speed. She didn't notice the three figures hastily following her, didn't see anything but her target, the van she was totally focused on. The van that Mojo and Ponyboy were now forcing Gia into. The girl had gone deadweight in their arms by the time they got her to the van, and Mojo was able to hold her all by himself while Pony stopped long enough to open the side door. Mojo heaved her through like a sack of wet laundry. Ponyboy immediately darted by him, throwing himself on top of the girl and shouting "You drive!", even as he fumbled with his belt. Mojo cursed, knew that the stupid prick was going to screw the girl even as they were making their getaway. The urge to beat his partner to a pulp was almost overwhelming, but a quick glance over his shoulder showed Ralph's kid racing towards him, followed by the other three little bitches she had been with. Too many to handle, they had to get out of there now. Spitting one last curse, Mojo slammed the sliding side door shut and opened the front one, hauling his body behind the steering wheel and fumbling for the keys in the ignition. As she dashed full tilt across the parking lot Becka had to make a hard choice, and do it quickly. She saw Ponyboy climb into the back of the van with Gia, and had no doubt what the sick bastard would to do to her. She knew what he was capable of. Her every instinct said to hurl herself through that door, but she knew that if Mojo managed to start the van and get it moving, then her sister was as good as dead. Becka had to stop that from happening first, so for now Gia would have to fend for herself. Even as she made this decision Becka was racing past the pile of concrete debris that Gia had been sitting on, and slowed down just long enough to grab a jagged piece about the size of her head. The slab of man-made rock must have weighed over twenty pounds, but the adrenalin pumping through her blood made it feel as light as a basketball. She screamed as she covered the last few yards, a primal war cry of rage and defiance, as she raised the rock over her head and smashed it through the driver's window with all of her might. The force of Becka's pitch combined with the speed of her mad run sent the block of concrete through the window like a cannonball through crepe paper. With a crash the safety glass shattered into a million tiny shards, which sprayed harmlessly across the inside of the van. The missile itself slammed into the side of Mojo's face, breaking his jaw and shattering his cheekbone, it's jagged surface scraping across his flesh like a cheese grater. A fountain of blood sprayed over the windshield and surviving window, leaving a pattern of splattered crimson. Amazingly the would-be kidnapper wasn't killed by the assault, but he was definitely in no mood to drive. Becka rammed into the side of the van right behind the missile and bounced off, the breath leaving her lungs from the force of the impact, dropping her to her knees on the ground. She blinked, wasting precious seconds as she tried to focus. But when she realized that Mojo was still moving, she forced herself back to her feet. Becka scrambled toward the van, climbing up the running board and forcing the top half of her body through the shattered window. She wedged herself between Mojo's bloody form and the steering wheel, desperately clawing for the keys. When her fingers finally wrapped around them she twisted and pulled, wrenching the keys out of the steering column and taking them with her as she tried to slide backwards out of the glassless window. Mojo was only half conscious, but he still grabbed at her as she slid past. Becka twisted at the waist, mercilessly snapping her elbow into his face once, twice, three times, just as Gia and her father had taught her. Mojo made a gurgling sound through broken teeth and slumped into an unmoving heap, his grip on Becka loosening. But still his deadweight accomplished what he hadn't been able to do while conscious, it pinned the blonde girl against the steering wheel. A frantic Becka suddenly found herself trapped, unable to move, unable to rescue Gia. She felt her heart trying to climb up her throat, when from the back of the van she heard the sliding side door opening. Sammie, Justine and Kelly had frozen at the sound of Gia's scream, stunned, their privileged little worlds having left them poorly prepared to handle sudden violence. But Becka's sudden response galvanized them, and as she took off the three California princesses where right behind her. Justine and Kelly were wearing heels, while Sammie was fumbling in her purse for her cell phone to call for help, so the trio quickly fell far behind the other girl. Which meant that they had a perfect view of Becka's bloody attack on the van and it's driver. Kelly reached the van first, where she caught the handle of the side door and pulled, throwing all of her weight into the effort. She stumbled as the door slid to the side, so it was Justine who first saw Ponyboy crouched atop the body of their friend. The junky had the girl pinned beneath him, and was clawing at her clothing, trying to gain access to the shapely young body beneath. His own pants were already pulled down to his ankles, and his hairy naked buttocks were waving in the air obscenely. Justine wasn't much for thinking, and it was fortunate that she didn't take the time to do so now. She just did the only thing she could think of to help her friend. Gia was still helpless, her face covered by the filthy blanket and her body by the smothering weight of her assailant. Terror like she had never known before shot through her with an electric charge, her own vulnerability amplifying the emotion until she couldn't think, couldn't act. The hands that were clawing at her had reduced her to a quivering animal, desperate to escape. She tried to cry out, to scream again for help, but she couldn't even do that. All she could do was listen to the trip-hammer sound of her own heart, feel the invasive hands on her body, and wait for the worst to happen. Suddenly there was a scream, a high pitched sound of pure agony that might or might not have come from a human throat. The weight on top of her suddenly disappeared, as if her assailant had been plucked off of her by a giant hand. Gia scrambled backwards across the floor of the van to the opposite wall, her windmilling arms finally succeeding in freeing her from the blanket. She huddled there, gasping for breath, too disoriented to move. She could still hear the sounds of pain coming through the open doorway, and when she finally got up the courage to crawl towards it her eyes widened at the most bizarre sight she had ever seen. The three girls of the Gap Mafia were standing in a tight circle, screaming and shouting as they hopped up and down in some sort of strange dance. Their eyes were cast downward, and a quick look in that direction showed that the trio were in fact standing over a huddled form, and the strange dance was them stomping and kicking at the whimpering man curled in the fetal position. Gia decided the man on the ground must have been her potential rapist, when she noticed that he wasn't wearing any pants. For several long moments Gia could only sit there and stare, half hypnotized, as reaction to her ordeal set in. She finally climbed out of the van on trembling legs, only to have the world suddenly spin about her dizzily, and blackness began to crowd the edges of her sight. Just as she was about to collapse on the ground, she heard a familiar voice call her name, and two strong arms were suddenly there to keep her from falling. Becka had finally managed to wriggle free from Mojo's limp body, just in time to see her sister emerge from the back of the van. "GIA!" she shouted, as she saw the other girl start to collapse. She crossed the two steps between them in an instant, snatching her up in a desperate embrace. For a second she felt Gia stiffen, but when she realized who was holding her she was suddenly clinging back, holding on as tight as she could. Just before the trembling started Becka heard her whisper, 'Don't ever let me go!" * * * "Gia! Oh God Gia we saw those guys grab you and take you away and we thought they were gonna kill you and we said such bad things about you but we didn't mean them we really didn't mean them we don't care if you're a lezbo or if you got the hots for us we're so sorry I'm so sorry please don't be mad oh Gia I was so scared--" The nonstop babbling tide was coming from Kelly, who had given up putting the boots to Ponyboy when she spotted the other girl in Becka's embrace. Sammie and Justine quickly followed, crowding around them like a flock of chattering magpies, all three girls trying to touch her, seeking to reassure themselves that she really was alright. It was too much too fast, Gia felt herself begin to go into overload. She started to slump back into Becka's arms, as the dizziness once more threatened to claim her. A detached part of herself noted the irony, of her surviving her attackers only to succumb to her friends. "Jeez, will you guys back off! Give her some room to breath. You two help me get her over to the curb, I think she needs to sit down. Sammie, if you've still got 9-1-1 on that thing, make sure they send an ambulance, Gia may need a doctor." Becka's barked commands seemed to do the trick, as the other three girls hastily jumped to obey. With one last glance at the van and it's two damaged occupants, the group quickly led their friend over to the curb, where Becka gently lowered Gia to the grassy median. When Sammie finished making her call, Becka borrowed the cell phone to call the dojo, where she hastily explained to her father what had happened. Before he had hung up she knew he was already out the door and on his way. While she was talking Becka had also been examining her sister, checking for signs of physical damage. She found the gash on her leg, but since the bleeding had almost stopped already she decided it wasn't too serious. It looked like another bruise was forming on Gia's jaw, and there was a trickle of blood from the corner of her lip, but they likewise were minor. But Becka knew that the real hurt went deeper than the skin and bone, and would undoubtedly take a long, long time to heal. She was all too familiar with that kind of damage. Becka looked up at the other three girls from where she sat with Gia, thinking about what they had just done for her and her sister. Sammie was winding down, now that the need for action was over, and was looking for her own seat on the soft grassy sward. In contrast, Kelly seemed to be full of energy and ready to explode, bouncing from foot to foot excitedly. Becka could tell that the other blonde was barely containing herself, and would probably start babbling again at any minute. And then Justine... Becka looked at the redhead and frowned. "Justine, what are you doing? It looks like you're trying to dry your nails!" It was true, Justine had the fingers of both hands splayed, and was waving them frantically, well away from her body. It did seem like she was trying to dry her nails. But the look of distress on her face gave the lie to that impression, as did the whimpering sounds coming from her mouth. "Eeeyeeuuuw! I, I saw him, on top of G-Gia. And, and his butt was sticking up in the air, and, and, I-oooh, it was so gross!" "Justine, take it easy. What do you mean, it was-" "She grabbed his balls!" Kelly piped up, almost shouting. The hyper-active girl was so excited to finally be talking again, that she was jumping up and down like a small dog on caffeine. "She reached between his legs and grabbed that guys balls, and she just hauled him out of there! Like she was pulling on a rope or something. With both hands!" The three seated girls looked from Kelly to Justine, their jaws dropping open in amazement. Apparently Sammie had been too busy calling for help to have seen the incident, and her eyes were just as wide as the Cameron's were. She gazed at her distressed friend for a moment longer, and then without a word she reached inside the voluminous purse she always carried and produced a wad of Kleenex, which she handed to a grateful Justine. The redhead quickly reduced the tissues to torn shreds, in her efforts to wipe her hands raw. Five minutes later, the police arrived. (continued)