Author's note: - This is a follow on to the previous chapter of Becca XXX Hard Time. Please read it before reading this or you will not understand the plot or characters
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Becca XXX. Hard Time. Ch 11.
We drove slowly away from Bronzefield, leaving the burning prison behind us. The thick black smoke and orange flames leapt a hundred feet into the air as The Crow's handy work wreaked havoc on the building. The clock on the dashboard told us it was just after one in the morning and we knew that we had to get as far away from the carnage as possible.
Distancing ourselves from the problem would make us feel safer and we figured that we had plenty of time. It would take a while before the fire was extinguished and a roll call of prisoners was carried out. The prison would be in a state of chaos due to the fire, which meant no one would know we were missing for at least an hour. Even when they figured out three prisoners were unaccounted for, they still might assume that we were burned to death in the basement with everyone else. That meant that nobody would be looking for us right away.
The chink in our armour was the fact that we were driving away in one of the prison officer's cars. I hoped that the wreckage of the burning buses in the car park would buy us a few hours until they realised Reid's car was missing. By that time, we'd be long gone, but we still had a few other problems to overcome. The first was the fact that the car's number plates could still be tracked on automatic number plate recognition cameras which were abundant on all major roads across the country. It wouldn't matter how far we travelled if the authorities could track the car. The car itself was as plain as vanilla and certainly wouldn't stand out to anybody. I kept the Micra below the speed limit to prevent any unwanted attention being drawn to ourselves.
Our second issue was that, although the car blended in on the almost deserted roads, two women dressed in prison officers clothing stood out like a sore thumb. We needed to change into something more civilian so that if we did get stopped by the police, we could pass as two girls coming back from a club or late-night party.
Luckily, Melody and Naomi had come up with the perfect solution to both of our immediate problems and we were heading to a memorised spot to resolve them before we made too much distance.
"Are you ok?" I asked, breaking the silence that had descended upon us since we'd rammed the barrier during our dramatic escape.
"Yes, I think so," she replied. "It's still sinking in. I can't believe we're out."
"I know what you mean, but we've still got a lot of work to do before we can relax, Melody."
"I guess you should start calling me Sasha now," she laughed. "It looks like I'm back from the dead."
"You certainly are, but it's going to feel weird calling you Sasha," I giggled. "I'm so used to calling you Melody."
"I know, but it will only confuse my father when we meet him," she sighed. "I need him to clear my name so we'd both better get used to it."
"Ok, Sasha," I smiled. "Sasha is a sexy name, by the way. It definitely suits you."
"Thanks," she shifted in her seat and I knew her trousers were sticking to her legs.
I was having the same problem. Sticky cum was leaking from my pussy after the gang bang and it was soaking into my trousers. Now that we were sitting down in the car, the spunk from the rapists was drying and the trousers felt clammy and uncomfortable.
"The sooner we get changed, the better," Sasha moaned, pulling at the wet fabric and adjusting herself. "Hopefully, I'll find something that fits me better than Jarvis' uniform."
"Are you sure this will work?" I quizzed. "Have you done this sort of thing before?"
"It's a little trick that Melody taught me," she said confidently. "It's amazing what people throw out. She told me that if I ever needed an emergency change of clothes, I should try the local charity bins at supermarkets. Turn right here."
We turned off of Staines Road and into Tesco's car park. The store was well and truly closed and looked eerily dark at this time of the morning.
"There," said Sasha pointing to the far corner of the car park away from the store. "Salvation Army charity donation bins."
We drove slowly towards the large steel bins which were illuminated by our headlights. I glanced around the car park to make sure we were alone and then pulled up next to them. I wasn't expecting anyone to be out shopping in the early hours, but there might have been a car with a couple of lovers inside, hoping to get lucky in the quiet car park.
The place was deserted apart from a few taxis and late-night cars driving along the main road. There were a few delivery vans parked up next to the store, but they hadn't moved for some time - the windows were wet with condensation. We were safe enough.
"Let's do it," said Sasha, taking her seat belt off and getting out of the car.
We were only five miles away from Bronzefield and I could still see the smoke billowing into the air. We needed to be quick before the whole town was rammed with police and emergency vehicles. I followed Sasha to the large steel bins which had the Salvation Army banner emblazoned on the front of the black steel. On the front of it there was a small hatch which was used to deposit second-hand, unwanted clothing to the needy and homeless.
"You'll have to crawl in and throw a few bags out to me," said Sasha, pulling the hatch open and holding it in position to prevent the heavy spring from closing it.
"Why me?" I protested.
"Because you're the smallest," she replied. "Come on, chop chop."
I quickly wriggled out of Reid's stab vest so that I could squeeze through the small hole. The steel felt slippery and cold as I half-climbed and half-slid into the bin like a worm going into its hole. At least I had a very soft landing. The bin was filled with plastic bags which in turn were filled with clothing and shoes. I steadied myself on all fours in the claustrophobic space and stared out at Sasha.
"We don't need anything glamorous," she smiled back at me. "Just throw out a dozen bags and come back out. I'm sure we'll find something suitable."
I couldn't see a thing in the bin so I just grabbed random bags and hurled them out of the small hatch. They landed on the tarmac with a thud, one after the other until I had practically emptied half the contents of the clothing bank.
Hurl - thud. Hurl - thud. Hurl - thud.
I then crawled back out and landed in a heap next to the bags. The car park was still quiet so we set about opening the bags and looking for anything that would fit and that would look natural on us. The first few bags were full of clothes that my grandma would have worn so they were stuffed back into the bin.
