The Van_(0)

THE VAN

Warning: this is a graphic story about rape and murder. Please don’t read if you aren’t into these fantasies.

More importantly, don’t mistake fiction for reality. If you are contemplating something like this in real life, you need to take into account that you will be caught and sent to jail, where you will be brutally killed in a manner befitting your victims. Seriously, I don’t ever want to hear about this story inspiring a true killing, it would ruin my life, yours, and your victim’s.





The three of us had been waiting in the van for over three hours. Mark and Jean seemed calm enough, but they had done this before. I, on the other hand, had not, and I was getting fidgety. I kept wiping the lens of the camcorder with my shirt, although it was perfectly clean. God, what I would have given for a drink right then.
“Relax,” Mark said, noticing my discomfort. “If everything isn’t perfect, we’ll abort. You can’t keep doing this for as long as we have if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“You’re not having second thoughts are you, Juan?” asked Jean from the front seat. Mark and I sat in the back, out of sight, on a dirty old mattress.
“No, no,” I replied. The last thing I wanted was for them to lose trust in me. “I’m good to go.” After another fifteen minutes, I turned on the camcorder and began narrating. “It’s about 3:00 in the morning. We’re parked across the street from a rural bar about two miles from the college.” I pointed the camera through the small circular porthole window on the side of the van to the bar. There were only a couple of cars still in the parking lot. “We’ve been here for maybe four hours, waiting for the girl to leave. As you can see (or maybe you can’t see, the lighting is pretty bad) the bicycle she rode in on is still parked outside.”
I turned the camera to Mark, getting a close up of his face. “What are you thinking about, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He never did. Mark and Jean both enjoyed the attention. Otherwise they would never let me document their story. It was far too dangerous.
“Actually,” he said, “I was just wondering what kind of nipples our little friend has. I hope she doesn’t have the big puffy areolas. I’ve never cared for those.”
I shuddered. It wasn’t my place to judge him; I was just here to record him. “Do you think… Do you think you’ll be successful tonight?”
“Tonight or tomorrow night, or next week. We’ll get her eventually.”
“Well, it looks like it won’t be tonight,” said Jean from the driver’s seat. She had a better view of the bar from her position and was the first to notice the girl leaving. “She’s picked up an admirer, from the looks of it.”
Mark rushed to the porthole window. “Fuck!” he said.
I moved into the passenger seat to get a better view. I recognized the girl immediately. She was outside the bar, talking to a man. Suddenly the man tried to kiss her, simultaneously grabbing her ass. She pulled away and slapped him. He started yelling at her. We couldn’t hear any of it because, as I later learned, Mark had had the van all but soundproofed. Jean rolled her window down an inch and we all heard the man shout, “Bitch!”
“This is promising, honey,” said Jean.
The man got into his car and sped away. The girl got onto her bike and started for home.
“We’re on!” said Mark. “Remember,” he said, looking me in the eye, “stay in the back, out of site. And don’t interfere. You can help us if you want, but you’d better not get in our way.”
“I’m just here to observe,” I said, trembling.
“Good. Cause that young cunt is going to die tonight no matter what, and I’d hate to have to bury both of you.”
“Don’t be rude,” Jean said. “You know we can trust him.”
Mark smiled. “I know. Just covering our bases, big guy. Nothing personal.”
We gave the girl a ten-minute head start, then started up the van and began the pursuit. As we drove I found myself hoping that we would somehow lose her, that she would get off the road for some reason and disappear into the forest. But there were no exits, not even residential driveways, along this stretch. After about two minutes, the girl appeared in our headlights, peddling away. She moved to the shoulder to let us pass.
“Remember, stay in the back,” said Mark.
Jean pulled up parallel to her and slowed, rolling down her window. “Excuse me, Miss,” she said, “can you help me with directions?”
The girl came to a stop and so did Jean. “I’m trying to get to the freeway,” said Jean.
She got off her bike and walked it up to the van. “Sure thing,” she said. She had a sweet voice. I felt bad for her.
At that moment Mark slid the van door open and ran out. He grabbed her, cupping a hand over her mouth before she could scream. The bicycle fell over.
“Shit, I didn’t think about the bike!” Mark said, dragging the girl to the van. “Juan you’ve got to get it. Get it and put it in the van.”
“But I’m not supposed to get involved, this-“
“Get it or we could all go to jail!