Resurrection - Part 1 of 2

I told you, I dont know where she came from, he said to the two police officers. The sky was just getting light, but I still had my headlights on. And suddenly theres a woman in the middle of the road.

A naked woman, said the older cop, a big, red-faced man.

Yeah, she was naked, and she had some kind of collar around her neck and, like, big metal bracelets on her wrists and ankles. Except for that, she was stark naked.

So you hit the brakes, but you cant stop in time, said the other cop, reading his notes in the early morning light.

Yeah, I hit the brakes hard, which I hated to do because Im carrying a load of hogs to Lackanooka. I didnt want them to get all busted up. You know, hogs got feelings, too. But its an emergency, so I hit the brakes hard, but I cant stop in time, and . . . and . At this point, he burst into tears.

Okay, okay, said the first cop, patting the drivers shoulder reassuringly. We understand. You couldnt prevent it. But Im still confused. You hit her the truck hit her and then she just disappears.

Yeah, said the truck driver. I heard the noise from the impact it was horrible, a big thud then she flies into the air and shes gone. I figure shes landed beyond where my headlights reach, or off to the side of the road. But when I get out and look around, nothing. Not even any blood.

Okay, said the older cop. Lets go back to the spot where you hit her.

They walked from the back of the truck about 150 feet, to a jagged hole in the blacktop. On the far side of the hole was a car from the sheriffs department. The deputy had set up a flare, to warn approaching motorists. But it was still very early, and there wasnt a car or truck in sight.

Jesus Christ, said the truck driver, what the hell is that?

Thats what wed all like to know, said the sheriffs deputy. He had long sideburns and a mustache.

What it looks like, said the red-faced cop, is something, or someone, came out from under the road. You can see all the asphalt pushed up.

Sort of like an exit wound, said the deputy, with an ironic grin.

You said she had on shackles, said the younger cop. Well, look down there. He pointed to a thick steel rod protruding from the exposed rock under the road bed. Attached to it was a chain about a foot and a half long.

Here, help me, said the older cop, as he began clearing broken asphalt and caked gravel from the hole in the road.

In a few seconds, the officers had discovered three more rods in the rock. They formed a rectangle about eight feet by three-and-a-half feet. Chains were attached to three of the four rods.

This is really strange shit, said the deputy.

Aint it, though, said the older cop. I know this sounds crazy, but it seems our naked lady emerged right here, right from under the road just in time to get creamed by this gentlemans truck.

Sure, said the deputy. Shes chained under God knows how much asphalt and gravel, for God knows how long, then she gets hit by a truck and walks away. Give me a break.

Well, said the older cop, Im going to write it up that way. And you can write it up any way you want. Im not even sure who has jurisdiction here. Were probably outside city limits, but Im not sure.

Me neither, said the deputy.

I know where we are, said the younger cop. The others looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

Were in the Twilight Zone, he said mysteriously. Then they all burst out laughing even the truck driver, whose tears of anguish and guilt had barely dried. # # #

SG was flying high enough to avoid being noticed by anyone on the ground but not so high that she couldnt make out the features below. It was great to be airborne again just to be exposed to the air at all, for that matter. But she was disoriented and confused. She vaguely remembered being put into that hole in the road. They had shackled her arms and legs. And someone had stuck something something big into her . . .

She shuddered and pushed the memory out of her mind. What happened that day didnt matter, at least not for the moment. There would be time to reconstruct and to get even. For now, she needed to find a safe place to land, somewhere she could finding clothing and get rid of these steel shackles, and the chain attached to the one around her left wrist.

A flash of light caught her eye. It was the Lackanooka River, reflecting the morning sun. At the sight of it, she realized she was terribly thirsty. She spiraled down slowly, scanning the ground below to make sure no one was looking. A car passed under her, on a road that ran next to the river, but it was quickly gone. The scene seemed quiet. This was a sparsely populated area. She landed softly at the top of an embankment that sloped down to the river. An abandoned railroad bridge was just a few yards away. She could go under it to drink, safe from any observers on the road.

The bank was slippery, and she skidded down it, ending up knee-deep in the river.

She laughed at her own clumsiness, then waded under the bridge and leaned over to drink.

Youre awfully brave, drinking out of the Lackanooka, said a voice from behind her. She turned to see a dark form approaching in the shadow of the bridge. Its polluted, you know, said the voice. Then the speaker was close enough for her to make out a man of 40 or so, in ragged clothes and badly in need of a shave. And a bath and mouthwash. He was still several feet away, but she could smell his stench.

The Lord has been good to us, sending us a beautiful naked lady, he said, smiling broadly.

He shore has, said another voice. A second man, younger but just as disheveled, came out of the gloom to join the first.

Here, let me help you up, said the first man, reaching out to her. She cautiously took his hand. He pulled her onto the bank, then stepped back to examine her.

Yes, a very beautiful naked lady, he said softly, and she comes with a collar and handcuffs, like some kind of sex slave.

And just in time, said his partner, since we aint had no pussy in a month of Sundays.

SG sighed. So, it was going to be another of those encounters.

Well, its going to be a millennium of Sundays before you get close to this pussy, she said coldly.

Goodness, Ive offended her, Jake, said the older man. What can we do to make amends?

Jake, who was behind SG, said, This! and slammed a rock into the back of her head.

SGs knees buckled, and she would have fallen had the older man not grabbed her and pressed her against his body.

Oh, yes, the Lord hath looked with favor upon us, he cried. He doth shower us with blessings.

Im going to shower this cunt with my blessings, said his partner, untying the rope he used as a belt.

Age before beauty, said the older one. He dragged SG up the embankment until they were on a level spot just a few feet below the underside of the bridge. He had already pulled out his prick and was stroking it to get it hard.

Too bad youre asleep, he whispered to SG. I think you would enjoy this.

Not as much as this, she hissed, swinging her arms together. The steel shackles smashed into either side of the hobos head.

He gasped, wide-eyed, then fell on top of her, blood gushing from both ears. SG rolled him off of her, then sprang at his partner.

They tumbled together down the embankment and into the river. She sat on his chest in the shallow water, her hands around his throat. He tried desperately to break her grip or unseat her, but she was much too strong. After a few seconds, bubbles began pouring from his mouth and nose, and he lost consciousness. SG held him down until she was sure he was dead.

Then she stood and began trembling. She had killed. Many times she had beaten up the bad guys, broken their bones, sent them to the hospital for long stays. Now she was sending two men to the morgue assuming anyone discovered their bodies in this godforsaken spot. She buried her face in her hands and wept. # # #

SG wandered along the road to Lackanooka, oblivious to everything but her own overwhelming feelings of desolation and guilt. Every now and then a car approached, slowed down so the occupants could get a closer look, then sped away.

One car, with two old ladies headed into town, stopped briefly, and the driver cried out, Shame. Shame. Whats this country coming to? A few minutes later, a pickup truck stopped, and the driver, a large young man wearing a baseball cap, said, You need a ride, honey? When SG didnt answer, he yelled, Well, go fuck yourself, cuz if you dont someone else will. Then he roared away.

She passed the electrical transformer factory and the slaughterhouse, and workers whistled and jeered. Then she was on the highway bridge into town. A car that was headed her way slowed, and the driver said, Get in. You cant just walk around like that. People will think youre crazy. The cops will arrest you. SG came out of her daze and looked at him. He was a plump middle-aged man in a suit and tie. He had a kind face.

Come on, get in, he said. His voice sounded reassuring. She opened the passenger side door and climbed in.

Where are you headed, he asked.

I dont know, said SG. Maybe Marston College. Yes, Marston College.

Are you a student there, the man asked, watching the road but stealing occasional glances at her.

Yes. Well, no. I mean, I was.

What happened to you? Who took your clothes?

SG didnt answer. Who did take her clothes? She couldnt remember. It all seemed so long ago. She watched the cars coming and going. They looked so different from what she remembered. They were bigger. And the one she was in had so many knobs and dials on the dashboard.

She looked outside and saw OMalleys Malt Shop, only it wasnt a malt shop anymore. It was called Revolutionary Records, and the window was full of record albums with colorful covers and faces she didnt recognize. Most of the people on the street seemed to be women, in funny looking blue jeans with wide bottoms.

Then she realized that many of them werent women at all, they were men with long hair.

You can let me off here, she said. I can walk over to the campus.

With no clothes? said the man. No way. Ill take you to my place. Some of my exs outfits are still in the closet. Okay, said SG wearily. She was too tired to think of an alternative plan.

They pulled into an apartment complex, and the man said, Well go in in a minute. I just wanted to do this first. He leaned toward her and slipped his left hand between her legs. With his right, he grabbed her collar and pulled her head toward him.

Her first impulse was to punch him in the face. Then she thought of the hobo whose skull she had crushed.

Please. Let me go, she said hoarsely.

But he didnt let her go. He kissed her on the lips, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Meanwhile, three fingers were deep into her vagina. She felt herself getting wet. The old lust was still there, the hunger for rough stuff and humiliation. She had to overcome it.

She pushed him away. No. Im getting out, she said.

He held onto her collar but he removed his left hand from her pussy and opened the glove compartment. She saw the gun just as his hand closed on it.

Youre not going anywhere, bitch, he hissed, except up to my apartment. Im going to fuck you over and over, and youre going to like it. Then youre going to lick me clean.

She grabbed the gun, and it went off with a noise that was deafening in the closed car. The bullet hit her in the belly, and she bent over from the pain.

The man recoiled in horror. Jesus Christ, he said. I didnt mean to do it. Oh, my God.

SG straightened up and looked down. She had the gun in one hand and the spent and flattened bullet in the other. And she had a smear of black on her belly, from the burnt powder. But there was no hole. She had lost many of her powers, but it still would take a lot more than a slug from a .38 to kill her.

She stuffed the gun back in the glove compartment.

You should be more careful with this thing, she said. Someone could get hurt.

Then she got out of the car and began walking toward where she thought the campus should be. # # #

She left the street and ducked into an alley. She hoped that by sticking to alleys shed find someones wash hanging on a backyard clothesline, something she could steal to cover her nakedness. But there was nothing hanging out to dry, even though it was a lovely late summer day. Maybe people didnt hang their clothes out anymore, she thought.

Her sense of direction proved accurate. Soon she recognized the campus neighborhood. From the alley, she could see a sorority house across the street. An American flag hung from a pole that projected diagonally from a column on the front porch.

Could she steal a flag? Heck, she had killed two men today. Stealing a flag didnt seem like much a crime compared to that.

She dashed across the street and pulled down the stars and stripes. A young woman opened the front door and cried, Hey, whatre you doing? But SG was gone in a flash.

She hid in some bushes next to the performing arts building and wrapped the flag around her like a towel. It was barely big enough to cover both her nipples and her crotch. Oh, well, it would have to do.

Now what, she thought. She had wanted to come to Marston because it was where she was living before she was buried under that road. But she didnt know how much time had passed since then. Would she recognize anyone? She wanted revenge, but were Dean Tooperman and her lesbo sister still around? And that bastard Louie? And those mobsters who raped and humiliated her the last night before her premature burial?

Some students passed a few feet from where she was hiding. They wore the same kind of clothes she had seen on Druid Avenue. Funny looking blue jeans, and what looked like buckskin vests. Necklaces with strange symbols. And headbands. Everyone seemed to wear a headband.

They didnt look anything like the Marston girls of 56.

She wanted to stop them and ask them a thousand questions, but she realized she probably looked as strange wearing the flag as she had when she was completely naked.

Then a side door of the arts building opened a few yards away, and two girls rushed out laughing. SG decided to make her move. The theater was in that building, and there would surely be costumes somewhere behind stage. Shed surely find something more suitable, and less noticeable, than the American flag. She ran to the door and pulled it open, just as someone inside was coming out. It was a sweet-faced blonde in a flowery dress.

Oh, groovy, she said when she saw SG. Id have never thought of that. She turned to a group of young women busy making placards in a big room. Tina, get a load of this.

The room fell quiet, except for music from a radio on the far side. A tall, auburn-haired woman with an attractive but hard face came forward.

Aint she a trip, Tina, said the blonde girl.

Tina said nothing. She looked long and hard at SG, then reached for her hand and pulled her into the room.

Now the others approached. SG had never felt more the center of attention, or more embarrassed by it.

Genius, Tina said at last. Sheer fucking genius. The flag. The shackles. The chain and the collar. Absolutely perfect.

SG smiled hesitantly. Tina seemed to be the leader here, and Tina approved. It was a good start.

Who sent you? Tina asked.

Sent me? said SG. No one sent me. I just . . . well, I just came in.

Naw, said Tina, you didnt dream this up by yourself. Come on, who sent you? She began naming what SG took to be people or organizations. The words and acronyms meant nothing snick, mobe, SDS, Yippies.

I just came here, SG said quietly, looking down.

Tina slipped her hand under SGs chin and lifted her face. And youre beautiful. That makes it even better.

She turned to the others. Okay, a change of plans. Our new friend will be at the head of the protest tomorrow. We climb the steps of the administration building, and our little heroine whats your name, honey?

Sallie. Sallie Gale.

Fine. Sallie raises her arms, so everyone can see her shackles, the shackles of oppression and ignorance. The TV cameras will love that. Then shell whip off this flag, symbol of the unenlightened patriotism she has now outgrown, and shell throw it to the ground and stomp on it. Then we soak it with lighter fluid and toss a match. What a great piece of political theater! Light a match, said SG. You mean, burn the flag?

Of course, said Tina. Unless youve got a better idea. We could smear it with shit, or shred it, or we could all squat and piss on it. But I dont think anything makes as powerful a statement as burning it.

SG was about to object, but Tina embraced her tightly and said, Youre going to be wonderful. The she whispered into SGs ear, And were going to be wonderful together. Youre staying in my room from now on.

Come on, Miss Liberty, said another woman, taking SGs hand. You can lead the parade, but everyone here works. Start stapling these placards.

SG spent the afternoon working with the group. She didnt understand what they were talking about. She didnt understand the politics and the music. She didnt understand why Tina snapped, Turn off that crap, when someone on the radio began singing about love and peace. Were running a revolution, not a fucking ashram.

One of the girls whispered to SG, Tinas such an asshole sometimes. She hates George Harrison because she says his music leads to apathy. All she really likes is Cuban stuff.

And theme songs from those blaxploitation movies, added another girl who had been listening in.

Yeah, said a third, its all Superfly and Super Fidel.

This triggered a bout of giggling, and SG pretended to join in, but she was completely mystified.

What about Superman? she asked shyly.

That fascist bastard, snorted one of the girls. Defender of the oppressors. What about him?

Nothing, SG said softly. Superman a fascist? She had never thought of her cousin that way. Sure, he was stuffy and sanctimonious, but did that make someone a fascist?

She became even more confused when someone began talking about Watergate and Vietnam, and how one grew out of the other, and both were manifestations of Nixons paranoia. She screwed up her courage and asked, You mean Vice President Nixon?

The other girls looked at her blankly.

Vice President? said one. He isnt Vice President. Hes President.

But he used to be Vice President, said another.

Tina, who had been directing others on the wording of slogans, overheard the conversation and came to SGs defense.

Okay, Sallie hasnt been paying much attention to politics, she said. But the Trickster used to be Vice President.

Yeah, but that was back when we were all still in diapers, said a girl, and everyone started laughing.

Tina knelt next to SG and said softly, Where have you been, girl? I really dont understand you at all. But I hope I will soon. II

After all the slogan painting and placard assembly was done, the group had beer and pizza at a nearby pub. SG, wearing a borrowed trench coat over her flag, had barely tasted her first bite of pizza when Tina told the others she had a manifesto to write.

Well see you in the morning, she said. She reached for SGs hand but grabbed her chain by accident. One of the other girls blurted out, Ooooh, a new sex slave, then instantly regretted it.

Keep your dirty mouth shut, Tina hissed. Youve been the slut of just about everyone in the movement, so dont get smart with me.

Outside, Tina slipped her arm around SGs waist. SG tentatively slipped hers around Tina. She felt in awe of this intense woman and grateful that Tina seemed to like her.

In Tinas dorm room, the walls were covered with revolutionary posters, and the bed was covered with papers loose leaf paper with handwritten notes, typing paper with slogans in capital letters, pages torn from books and magazines. Tina grabbed a corner of the bed spread and swept everything to the floor. Then she turned to SG and yanked away the flag.

God, what a body, she said softly. Youre so fucking beautiful.

SG blushed.

Beautiful but dirty, Tina added. You look like youve been playing in a mud hole. You need a shower.

She stripped quickly, and SG discovered that Tinas body was outstanding, too. She was tall and muscular, and though her breasts werent as large as SGs, her figure was just about flawless.

Tina moved close to SG and stroked her hair. Then she kissed her softly on the lips. Follow me, she said seductively.

The bathroom was shared by two dorm rooms, but it was empty. Tina opened the tiny shower stall and started the hot water. After a few seconds, she tested it and declared it just right.

She stepped in. SG held back.

Come on in, said Tina. Were going to get clean together.

SG had never showered with another woman. She stepped in hesitantly, and Tina shut the door.

The warm water felt wonderful. And so did Tinas lips, as she kissed the back of SGs neck, then ran her tongue down her back and up again. Tina pulled SG close to her and reached around and fondled her breasts. SG was breathing heavily. Tina slid one hand down SGs belly until it reached her crotch. Then, softly, with more tenderness than SG had ever encountered, Tina massaged her labia and began stroking her clitoris.

Oh God, I love it, SG moaned.

Yes, you love it, said Tina . And I love it. And youre going to be my whore. Youre going to be my slut, and were going to do things to each other that will drive us wild.

SG turned to face Tina, and they kissed as the water flowed over their faces. Tina bent her knees until her mouth was level with SGs breasts, and she began sucking her nipples. Then she knelt all the way down in the narrow stall, and her tongue was in SGs slit, and SG was keening and swaying, and everything went black.

She awoke to see Tina leaning over her.

What happened, SG asked.

You fainted. You had a big day, and I guess the stimulation was just more than you could take. I was worried about you.

SG was lying in bed. Tina had pulled the covers over her.

Are we finished making love? SG asked.

Thats up to you. Are you finished?

No, SG whispered. No, I want more.

Then more you shall have.

Tina opened a drawer and pulled out a big, black strap-on dildo.

Can you handle this? she asked.

You mean, can I wear it?

No, said Tina. Ill wear it. Can you handle it inside you? Is it too much for you?

SG tossed the covers aside, got out of bed and lay on her back on the floor. Lets find out, she said, spreading her legs.

Tina fucked her hard, almost as hard as any man had fucked her. Twice she had to stop because the strap came loose. Finally, she tossed the dildo aside and rummaged in the drawer. She pulled out an even bigger one, made of stainless steel and with a plastic handle, and went to work on SG.

Then it was SGs turn to be the penetrating partner. Tina wanted it in the ass, and SG gave it to her, hesitantly at first, but then with growing verve.

They spent the night dreaming up new ways to fuck one another and squealing and moaning with delight. The girls in the next room were furious at the commotion, but no one was willing to stand up to Tina the Terrible. # # #

Leslie Gettlayd, reporter for WURM-TV, Lackanookas only local station, was fluffing her hair and adjusting the collar of her aquamarine silk blouse while a mousy assistant held up a mirror.

Tilt it up, tilt it up, she said in exasperation.

Nick, the cameraman, a bored young man with a large Adams apple and a bad complexion, said, If youre going have something to bring to the boss, you better speed it up. Theyre getting started.

Leslie and her crew were a few feet from a group of about 40 young women who had gathered at the foot of the steps to the Marston College administration building. The women were carrying placards that said things like Drop Nixon, not Bombs, Impeach the Bastard, Peace Now, Fuck the Oppressors and No Term Papers Without Representation.

Leslie, satisfied with her appearance, stood in front of the camera, holding a microphone. The protestors were behind her.

A group of Marston students are here protesting the war and what they claim is a lack of democracy at the college. This protest is fairly small compared with the anti-war rallies of 68 and 69, but . . . .

Tina, yelled a fat student who had overheard Leslies introductory remarks. Tina, shes calling our crowd small.

Leslie lowered the mike. Her body stiffened and she turned on the interloper.

Listen, lard-ass, youre lucky to be getting any coverage at all today. Im only here because your little fuehrer promised a good show.

At that point, the fuehrer, Tina herself, arrived out of breath and furious.

What the fucks the matter? she barked.

The fat girl started to speak, but Leslie cut in. Nothings the matter, Tina. I was just exercising my First Amendment rights and commenting on the size of the crowd here today which, I must say, is pretty goddam puny. I mean, there are almost as many cops and counter-protestors as there are protestors.

Okay, okay, said Tina. Youre right. Im disappointed in the size of the crowd, too. But just keep your camera on the cluster of girls as the go up the steps. When they spread out, I promise youll be glad you came.

She hurried back to the closely packed group at the foot of the steps.

Okay, she said. We almost lost the media, but theyre going to stick around. Sallie, its up to you to make this work.

SG, surrounded by Marston students, was wearing her flag, and Tina had done her makeup to emphasize her big blue eyes and lovely mouth.

Lets go, gang, said Tina, and the group surged up the steps.

Nick the cameraman stayed put, using his zoom lens to follow the action. So far, he hadnt seen anything to justify this excursion to the college, but it was better than chasing fires or doing pollution stories. The last time they did an environmental report, he had ruined a good pair of cowboy boots.

Theyre breaking up, Leslie said. Whos that in the middle? Holy shit, its a bimbo in a flag suit. Jesus, you can see almost all of her ass.

Its getting better, the cameraman said excitedly. See the shackles?

Is that what those are? And whats hanging from her left wrist?

A chain, a fucking chain. God, is she a babe! Id give 50 bucks to see her take off that flag.

The striptease he hoped for didnt cost him a cent. SG unwrapped the flag and waved it above her head. She was naked, and her fellow protestors were yelling and clapping.

We cant use this, Leslie cried. Theyd never let us. Shes completely nude.

At the top of the steps, SG continued to twirl and dance, using the flag as a prop, like a professional stripper.

Tina said, Great, now hurl it down and stomp on it."

But SG kept dancing. It wasnt because she wanted the attention. It was because she was afraid of what came next. She had repressed her objections when Tina first outlined the plan, but now she couldnt go through with it.

Drop the fucking flag, Tina hissed. Several other girls joined in: Sallie, come on, its time.

Finally, Tina ripped the flag from SGs hands and threw it onto the stone porch. Another student squirted it with lighter fluid, and Tina lit a match and held it up dramatically. But before she could drop it, SG slapped it from her hand. Tina looked at her, dumbfounded. Then rage took over.

You miserable cunt, she screamed. Youre fucking up our protest.

She punched SG in the face. SG stumbled backward, into several other girls, who grabbed her.

Hold the bitch, Tina yelled. Then she lit another match and dropped it on the flag. Flames quickly engulfed the banner. They grew higher after several additional squirts of lighter fluid.

The WURM crew had pushed their way up the steps and were now only a few feet from the fire. Nick was doing a closeup when he heard several screams and suddenly saw naked feet stamping on the flag.

It was SG. She had broken free and was trying to put out the fire. She even knelt and tried to beat back the flames with her bare hands.

This is great, Leslie said breathlessly. Who is this woman?

But the protestors closed in and pulled SG away. Several began beating her with their peace placards. She tumbled down the stone steps, and while she was lying facedown on the paving, Tina grabbed a placard and shoved the wooden holder deep into her ass.

Holy shit! cried the cameraman. What a fucking show!

Now the cops and a handful of counter-protestors fought their way to SG and helped shield her from the angry anti-war sisterhood.

A dark-haired young man took off his athletic jacket and put it around SGs shoulders.

Come with me, he said. Its time to close down this farce. # # #

WURM-TVs 6 oclock newscast included carefully edited film of the protest. There were no shots of SGs bare breasts or pubic region, but viewers saw close-ups of her waving the flag above her and of the shackles on her wrists. And thats what Police Chief Paul Patterson was most interested in, as he sat in his living room, eating a TV dinner. He had read yesterdays report on a strange accident on Doberman Road east of town, and he had talked to the officers who had been on the scene. The truck driver had told them about a naked woman with shackles, and his men had seen steel rods and chains where the paving had been pushed out. But the woman had vanished.

The whole thing was getting weirder and weirder.

He called headquarters and asked for the captain in charge. What had happened to the naked woman at the Marston protest? The captain told him to hold the line and came back a few seconds later with news that she had been whisked away by one of the counter-protestors. No, they didnt know his name, but the leader of the protest said the womans name was Sallie. She wasnt sure of the last name maybe Gaines or Gale.

Patterson put down the phone. He wondered if he could persuade the news director at WURM to let him see all the footage that had been shot at the protest. In some towns, reporters and editors got all hot and bothered by such requests and started screaming about the First Amendment. But Ted over at WURM was an occasional drinking buddy. Besides, Patterson had fixed at least half a dozen tickets collected by Teds asshole kid. Ted owed him.

He was lost in thought when his wife came in and reminded him that it was bowling night.

Okay, he said, in a minute.

He called headquarters again. For some reason, the name Sallie Gale had rung a bell. Had they checked the files?

Yeah, said the captain. Im looking at something right now. And it looks very, very sensitive. You better come down. It seems to involve the old man, Silvio Mozzarella.

Ill be right over, Patterson said. He put down the phone and rubbed his chin. No bowling tonight, honey, he called to his wife.

This was going to be a lot more interesting that just another evening at Ralphs Super Lanes. # # #

The dark-haired young man who had rushed SG away from the protest had been accompanied by a group of Lackanooka Junior College boys who had little interest in politics but who decided to protest the protest just for a chance to raise hell. They were tagging along now because what the fuck here was a naked woman in trouble. Maybe they could compound her troubles under the guise of helping her, and get a little free pussy.

But SGs rescuer was older than the others, and no one in the Lackanooka group recognized him.

When they reached a visitors parking lot on the edge of the campus, he opened the door of a red Jaguar convertible and helped SG in. Then he went around to the drivers side. Before he could open the door, however, one of the Lackanooka students, the biggest in the bunch, grabbed his shoulder.

Hey, where the fuck are you taking her? he demanded. We got plans, too.

Yeah, share and share alike, said another.

The young man leaned against the car and folded his arms. He didnt seem at all intimidated.

Im taking her to my home, he said quietly. Shes been through a lot.

Well, we want to put her through lot more, said the student who had grabbed him.

You boys need to cool it, the young man said. Im a businessman here in town. I run S&M Paving.

The big student shrugged. What the fuck do I care about what business you run?

But another student pulled him back and whispered in his ear.

The group had gotten very quiet.

The big student shook his head in disgust and turned away. The one who had whispered in his ear said, Hey, we were just having some fun. No offense.

Sure, said the young man.

Then he got in the car and said to SG, Im taking you someplace safe. And I promise I wont lay a hand on you without your permission. # # #

The young man, who told SG his name was Michael Collins, was true to his word. He brought SG to a sprawling, modern-looking house on a big tract of rolling land north of town. There was a two-car garage and a huge white 59 Cadillac in one of the driveways. He parked in the other driveway and took SG in through the front door. He wanted to make an impression.

It worked. The entrance hall was all white marble and bronze. Off to the left was the living room, which seemed to go on forever. Michael led her back to a bedroom suite.

There are lots of clothes in the closet, womens clothes my sisters. Find something you like. Ill fix you a drink. What do like?

Just a Coke, SG said. Wow, this is really something.

Go ahead. Explore. Ill be back in a minute.

There were two big closets with sliding doors in the bedroom and a walk-in closet off a short hallway, across from the bathroom.

Michaels sister had quite an extensive wardrobe. And she must have gone through a pretty dramatic growth spurt. SG found two pairs of bellbottom jeans, one of which was a full three inches longer than the other. Some dresses were clearly selected by someone with a very full figure, others by someone slender.

Her shackles and that damned chain limited what she could try on. Finally, she settled for a baggy blue and gold sweater and a pleated white skirt. She was admiring herself in the mirror when there was a knock at the bedroom door.

Are you decent? Michael asked.

Sure, come on in. Anyway, youve already seen me naked.

You look quite lovely in clothes, too, he said, handing her a crystal cocktail glass filled with Coke.

Vita lunga, Michael said, raising his glass. He was drinking red wine. He gave her a tour of the house. Paintings and photographs of Italy were everywhere, along with bronzes modeled after the work of famous Italian sculptors. SG stopped in front of a copy of Michelangelos David. Hes beautiful, she said softly. Very sexy.

Michael smiled. You think so? Ive always thought he seemed deep in thought.

Ah, but to some women, nothing is so sexy as a man deep in thought.

Ill have to try to look more contemplative, then, next time Im at a singles bar.

SG laughed. Dont kid me. You dont look like a man who has trouble picking up women.

No, he admitted, with a sheepish grin. No, I dont. Ive always been very lucky when it comes to picking up women. Its keeping them that Im lousy at. They went to the kitchen and he offered her leftovers from last evenings dinner: veal scallopini, green beans, a little linguini. She ate greedily, standing at the kitchen counter.

You live alone? she asked. Then she added, hurriedly, Thats none of my business. I was just wondering who cooked this. Its delicious.

I have a wonderful woman a 65-year-old woman who comes in three times a week to cook. Another woman comes in twice a week to clean. And, yes, I live alone.

Except when your sister visits.

My sister? Michael looked puzzled. Oh, yes, my sister. Yes, of course, she comes in occasionally.

So why all the Italian art? SG asked.

Because I love Italy. Its like a second home to me. My first home, spiritually.

Howd you get so Italian with a name like Collins?

Well, my father is Irish and Dutch, Irish on his fathers side. But my mothers father, hes Italian. He was actually born there. Came to America when he was just a kid, with his parents. Learned English, worked hard, made a lot of money. Now I run one of his businesses.

Does he live here in Lackanooka? SG asked, strolling into the dining room and studying a small gallery of old family photos on the wall.

No, he lives in a suburb of Metropolis. In a nursing home. He had a stroke about six months ago.

Oh. Im sorry, said SG. Is this him? she asked, pointing to a black-and-white photo of a young man standing very straight and unsmiling next to what SG guessed was a 1920s Flivver.

Yeah, said Michael. He was a wonderful guy. Is a wonderful guy. He and my mother never got along, and he didnt like my father, either. But hes always been good to me.

They went through the gallery, with Michael identifying and telling stories about each member of the family.

Then he said, Okay, youve been asking all the questions. Now its my turn. How did you end up naked in front of the administration building at Marston College wearing a flag and all that metal?

SG smiled and lowered her head.

Its a long story.

Thats okay. Ive got lots of time.

Well, its also an incredible story.

Thats okay, too, said Michael. Im very gullible.

SG looked up at him, and suddenly the banter was over and she buried her face in her hands and began sobbing.

Hey, thats okay, he said. Im sorry. I didnt mean to pressure you.

He put his arm around her tentatively, then more firmly when she nestled against him and her lips brushed his neck.

They made love in the living room, on an impossibly thick sheepskin rug. As SG expected, Michael was an expert confident and considerate. Afterward, he carried her into the bedroom with the big closets and tucked her under the covers. She fell asleep before he had even shut the door. # # #

She was still sound asleep several hours later, when the doorbell rang. Michael, who had been reading in a study just off the living room, answered it. It was Patterson, the police chief. He was carrying a briefcase.

What can I do for you, Paul? said Michael.

We need to talk.

They went into the study, and Michael closed the door.

Are you alone? Patterson asked.

No, but I dont think well be disturbed.

Good, because weve got a problem, and the fewer who know about it the better.

(To be continued.)