Midnight Hunting

Josh tore apart the mattress, dragging out the envelope with his money, checked it briefly. He went to his closet and ripped it open.

"Danny!" he yelled. "Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Gone," said Danny, looking timorously through the door. "See, we didn't know where you were and so Russ moved in and -"

Josh punched him in the face again. "Agghfffthup," Danny yelled. "I'm taking your clothes," said Josh. "Hey, you, yeah, you, you stoned bitch. Where are your goddamn clothes?"

The girl on the couch looked at him blankly, then pointed to a crumpled T-shirt on the floor. Josh threw it to Claire and pulled apart Danny's closet, finally tracking down pants and a shirt that fit.

He went back to Danny, who was leaning against the wall, holding his bleeding nose in disbelief. Josh crouched in front of him. "Listen up, dickshit," he said. "Thanks to your brilliant money-making scheme, Claire and I are now on the run from a gang of sex slavers. I feel like you owe me an apology."

"I'm thorry," Danny whimpered.

"Also," said Josh, "I want your money. All of it?"

"Whaa?" Danny whined. "Not fair!"

Josh raised his fist. "I think it's real fair," he said, "but if it's constructive debate you want, I'm okay with that too."

Danny crawled into his room and pulled a box from under the bed. He shoved it at Josh. "There you go, ath-hole," he said.

Josh opened the box and stuffed handfuls of bills into his pockets. "Thanks," he said. "I'll tell you what, I'll leave you twenty bucks. Get yourself something nice."

"I'm calling the fucking polithe," Danny moaned.

"Yeah, tell them your friend you sold into slavery robbed you of your illegal sex slave money," said Josh. "Great fucking idea, Danny. I'm out of here."

He paused at the door and took Danny's keys off the hook. "I'm stealing your car, too," he said.

"Aw *fuck*," said Danny.

"Danny, who is this guy?" said the girl on the couch, stretching lazily. Josh slammed the door before he heard her answer.

A few minutes later they were on the highway, speeding out of town as fast as they could go.

Claire was the first one to speak. "Where are we gonna go?" she said.

"Dunno," said Josh. "Far away, I guess."

She glanced at the pile of money on the back seat. "How much we got?"

"Dunno. About twenty K, I think."

"Hm."

There was another long silence.

"I still can't believe you got me out of there," she said. "I was just starting to give up."

"Yeah," said Josh. "Me too."

They drove until early morning, by which time they were too tired to sleep. They stopped at a hotel somewhere in the middle of nowhere, had long, hot showers, slept.

Next day they were back on the road, and Claire started talking about what she'd been through at Morningford, the shit that was going to give her nightmares for years to come. She'd spent most nights naked, crammed into a cage with at least one other girl; spent her days crawling, sucking dicks, getting fucked. She'd spent whole days tied to posts while a machine fucked her in the ass; whole days crawling on her hands and knees behind Mr Pelt, licking dirt off his shoes; whole days making out with other girls, hoping it was hot enough that she wouldn't end up on the torture wall.

By the time she was brought to the boat, her whole consciousness had been sublimated, leaving her a cock-hungry, submissive wreck. What was left of her was emerging, very slowly.

They drove for two weeks before stopping.

He never saw Danny Trips again.