The day was just a youngster, but the heat already made the air vibrate above the land. After his previous ride, Joshua was clearly dropped at the wrong place. At Coopers Crossing there was hardly traffic and no shadow at all. The road sign Melbourne 107 miles did not raise Joshua's spirits either. Since early this morning he had only advanced 40 miles. Three rides, three times local traffic. Joshua decided to take off his blouse to turn it into a bandanna. Once again he put his water bottle against his lips, but he changed his mind. Better save some. He did not know how long he would have to be out in the open.
A dust cloud on the way to the North announced traffic. Joshua raised this thumb as soon as the car appeared. His enthusiasm lowered when he noticed how old the vehicle was, how loud the humming of the engine, how dense the plume of smoke out of the exhaust pipe. The car stopped. At the passenger side the window opened, creaking and groaning. The wrinkled face of a red-haired lady appeared.
"Where you have to go, young man?" she asked.
"Melbourne," Joshua said, his eyes half-closed because of the dust.
"Sorry, but we're not going there. We can take you to Barstow. That's another 15 miles closer."
Joshua started making evasive gestures, but the lady said there was a bus stop close to their home, surrounded by two big eucalyptus trees.
"That means shadow. And if you are still not picked up at one thirty, you may take the bus to Kensington. At the expressway hitching is easy."
Her arguments convinced Joshua. This place was a disaster anyway, the next one no doubt should be better. So, Joshua opened the backdoor of the car and slided behind the lady onto the leather, crackled and torn. It burnt his skin where his legs were bare. The chauffeur, no doubt the spouse of the lady, gave him a benevolent look via the rear view mirror. His convex face was already red, his forehead wet with sweat. He was almost bald, only at the side of his head there were remainders of hair.
"Hi mate," he said. "My name is Ben. I'll be your driver."
The lady looked back. She could be somewhat younger than Joshua thought at first glance. Old instead of very old.
"My name is Carole," she spoke, offering Joshua a weak, bony hand.
"Joshua," he replied. "Very nice to meet you."
Carole smiled at him before turning back.
"Ben, you take this boy to Barstow," she said, emphatically articulating the name of the village. The car, that had kept snoring gently while Joshua entered, started to roar. Shaking, the car gained speed. As soon as it drove 35 miles, both the sound and the shaking lowered. Joshua doubted if the car was able to go much faster. He looked out of the window.
The couple lived just outside Barstow. The bus stop turned out to be about next to the driveway to the house, and the eucalyptus trees were there as well. A much better place to hitch.
"You may want to come in for a cool drink? Actually, you look like you could use some moisture. I may as well make you a sandwich, if you like..."
Joshua hesitated, but was persuaded by the perspective of the cool drink. And he was starving. So, he remained in the car while it crawled coughingly up a sandy path. It shaked its way through the holes. The motor started to make all kinds of distress sounds.
"Does the car never break down?" Joshua shouted in the lady's ears.
"The car breaks down all the time," she replied, "But then Ben fixes it again, don't you Ben?"
Ben giggled in a way that gave Joshua the impression that he may be mentally impaired. He parked the car. Carole got off immediately, being faster at the door than Joshua managed to open it. She opened the door for him. After he had gotten off, Ben appeared in front of him, smiling. As soon as Joshua got the impression Ben was standing there to block his way, he heard a noise, looked around, to see Carole standing behind him, wielding a cattle prod.
"Joshua, I want you to put your wrists forward so that Ben can cuff them," she spoke. Heedless, as if her request was mundane and perfectly innocent.
"W... What does this mean?" Joshua stuttered. "What're you guys up to?"
He yelled when Carole touched his leg with the cattle prod, just below the pipe of his shorts, just above his knee. He reached for his leg, felt that it refused to carry him. He tripped and almost fell. Ben helped him back onto his legs. Carole embraced his waist. With force, she held his body against hers and pushed him towards Ben.
"Be a good boy," she whispered in his ear, while her long, slim fingers started to wander his bare upper body. Ben grabbed his wrists, to cuff them one by one. The notion he was captured made Joshua lower his eyes. With a twisted face he felt Caroles nails tripping over the edge of his pants. Polished purple they were. The paint was crackled and old, not applied today. He felt the nails pinching his skin, in such a mean way that he moaned.
"The only choice you have, is to do as you're told, Joshua," she whispered in his ear. "If you resist, it only makes things worse."
Ben started pulling his wrists. Carole kept embracing his waist while Joshua walked the way in which Ben wanted him to walk. At the side of the house was a small door. Inside, Joshua became virtually blind, so dark it was compared to the outside. The couple used the time Joshua needed to adjust his eyes, by pulling and pushing him up the stairs as fast as they could. Through the first door at the landing Joshua saw a large crib bed with a richly coloured linen. The marital spound, Joshua thought, just before he was pushed into a chamber with a guest bed under a heavily curtained window. In the darkest corner a few chairs were erratically arranged. At the front, close to the wall, there was a kneeling bench, all wood, somewhat crooked, maybe because Ben had put it together all by himself.
Joshua ended up opposite the kneeling bench. The cattle prod threatened him while Ben undid his wrists. The cattle prod pointed to the low bar of the kneeling bench.
