Pocet Full of Innocence

** Author Note.....Not much sex in this part, so don't be discouraged...simply background for what's coming in part 2.

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A weather- beaten, frayed and spent shell of a young man, Gavin McGowen sat on the edge of a hill overlooking a spot along the river that was about to become national news. Lost, over an hour's drive away from his home, the hustle and bustle now surrounding him almost seemed to be taking place in slow motion as he breathed one deep breath after another into his soggy lungs.

Sitting there on a layer of moist and decaying leaves, huddled beneath a fireman's blanket, Gavin scanned the landscape below, doing his best to catalogue every detail of the past two days into his overwhelmed teenage mind before the inevitable questions began. He knew there were going to be people who would re-assuredly tell him that the ordeal he'd just endured would gradually fade from memory. Gavin knew there might even be some people close to him that would urge him to seek out the help of a professional in dealing with the trauma. He was mature enough however to realize if he started striking the bad stuff from his memory banks, it would dull the other memories as well, and those were going to be things he never planned on letting go.

Looking a few feet down the hill to the cluster of medical people tending to the woman he'd shared his ordeal with, Gavin couldn't help but sigh imagining the row of television satellite trucks that would soon dot the road below the clearing. With the newfound celebrity he'd stumbled in to, even Gavin knew at some point the gossipy general public would start whispering about what had happened during those two nights they were stranded alone in the woods.

"Hero or victim...what's the tougher role to play..?" Gavin found himself asking as he looked out along the ridgeline, waiting for the rescue vehicle to show up carrying his parents.

Gavin knew he was going to be able to handle everything he'd been through over the past day and a half. Sitting there as the chilly morning fog slowly melted away, it was way too cliche and cornball to say he became a man during the ordeal, but in the truest sense he'd done what he'd needed to survive, then as any man would, calmly and confidently reaped the fruits that had come with the choices he'd made. The only thing Gavin have to live with now was the guilt.

Looking down at the sobbing woman talking into a rescue person's cellphone below, Gavin knew she'd have to deal with a special kind of guilt all her own, one at such a young age he wasn't quite ready to fathom. His guilt wasn't based on what had happened, or who he'd had it happen with. His rested squarely in the plain piece of flat, gray metal that lay hidden in the left rear pocket of his tattered and muddy jeans.

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The woman in question's name was Rochelle Stewart.

It wasn't a stretch to say Gavin had known Rochelle his entire life. Gavin's family had lived three doors down from the Stewarts from the time he was born up through the seventh grade. Her Son, Andy, was one of Gavin's best friends growing up and even after the Stewarts moved to a new house on the other side of town, luckily they remained in the same school district and were both on course to graduate later that Spring.

Even after the move the two boys were fixtures at each other's house for quite a few years until the inevitable distraction of girls, jobs and deeper concentration on school work put a crimp into Gavin and Andy's friendship on occasion.

The one thing that seemingly became the social albatross around Gavin's teenaged neck was the fact that his parents weren't quite ready to trust him with a driver's license. Having had a series of seizures during his tween years, Gavin's Mom and Dad were extremely cautious trusting him with a car even though he hadn't had the slightest issue health wise since he was 13. While technically an adult in the law's eyes, he still had to finish high school and didn't exactly have the money saved up to blaze a trail on his own.

Needless to say the lack of wheels did wonders to cripple his self esteem but from a functional standpoint with as small and close knit as his hometown was, Gavin was able to walk or ride his bike pretty much everywhere he needed to go. The real blow came however when he had to depend on one of his schoolmates, or even worse, one of their parents to ferry him back and forth between their place and home.

It was that exact type of situation that landed Gavin in the maelstrom he was currently in.

Having spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon across town at Andy's house, the two boys had shot some hoops, killed some time goofing on the internet and played video games until Andy's Mom popped her head into the living room to remind her Son he had to be at work at 4.

Even though teenage boys would never discuss such things, Andy and Gavin each felt somewhat melancholy knowing the opportunities to spend lazy afternoons together were steadily dwindling. Despite the discussions to head off to the same college in the Fall, Gavin knew with his Father being laid off that the community college in town was going to be his only legitimate option for the time being. Andy, on the other hand, had already accepted an offer out of state.

Just like in "Stand By Me", Gavin could feel the first twinges that growing up also meant growing apart.

There was a low rolling rumble of mid afternoon thunder off in the distance as Andy began gathering his stuff for work.

"I guess I better get going to beat the storm," Gavin sighed, knowing he had a three mile bike ride back home.

"Nonsense," Rochelle Stewart scolded. "If Andy would have got his butt in gear a little sooner, he'd have time to run you home..No problem though. I've got a errand or two before dinner..I can take the station wagon and we can stick your bike in the back..I'll be glad to run you home Gavin."

His self-reliance already crippled by not having a license, Gavin politely prepared to decline Mrs. Stewart's offer when another thunderclap ripped through the air, this one much closer than the first. Picturing himself drenched as he pedaled for home, trying to stay one step ahead of never ending series of well aimed lightning strikes, Gavin reluctantly accepted Rochelle's offer.

Biking home in a deluge would be a piece of cake however compared to the next several hours for Gavin and Mrs. Stewart.

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The two hours of so after leaving with Mrs. Stewart would be the most life altering stretch of time Gavin would ever face.

The first thing he remembered was the sound of footsteps shuffling quickly across the rain soaked asphalt of the strip mall's parking lot. With the last remnants of the afternoon thunderstorm petering out, Rochelle had pulled her Volvo station wagon up to a drive-thru ATM to get some cash before dropping Gavin off at home.

Perched in the passenger seat with his bike laying in the back, deep down Gavin hadn't minded letting Mrs. Stewart drive him home. He'd known her ever since he could remember, and of all his friends, she was probably the most attractive. Being as friendly, personable and down to Earth as she was however, Gavin always felt an awkwardness each time he tried conjuring her into one of his typical teenage fantasies. Still, it didn't keep him from stealing an occasional peek over to see how Mrs. Stewart's tanned legs looked in her crisp white shorts, or how her breasts bounced ever so slightly in her shirt each time she drove over a bump.

In retrospect, Gavin knew he was lost in somewhat of a daydream staring over at Rochelle as she leaned up from her seat to grab the money from the ATM. If he hadn't been so distracted, perhaps with the extra second or two he might have been able to prevent things from getting so out of hand.

To his everlasting horror and shame however, Rochelle's initial scream paralyzed Gavin. Before he could so much as raise his hands from his side, Rochelle Stewart's entire weight came crashing down on top of him at the same time a shadowy presence plopped down in the driver's seat.

The blue Volvo then sped off.

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Whatever it had started out as, be it a simple armed robbery or vehicle theft, what it had instantly turned into was a full blown car-jacking with two counts of kidnapping thrown in.

Trying to steady himself beneath Rochelle as a drowning wave of tension and shock filled the cab of the car, Gavin could feel the boxy Volvo fishtailing on the soggy road as the man behind the wheel desperately tried escaping the parking lot. Rochelle's elbow forced down against his throat as she screamed at their abductor, everything was a visual and verbal blur for Gavin as he felt the car pick up speed.

His natural instinct finally starting to kick in, Gavin prepared to push Rochelle off to the side so he could make one good swipe at the man's hands on the steering wheel, but that notion was quickly shelved when Gavin saw the man's pistol aimed straight at Mrs. Stewart's head as he drove.

The scenery of the main drag of town now whizzing by at over 50 miles per hour, Gavin could feel his heart lodged squarely in his throat as he waited, praying the sound of sirens would descend from some direction. Sadly, he'd have to wait nearly 40 hours before he saw the first emergency vehicle.

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22 year old Ernesto Ayala had come to the US with his older brother and two cousins from Hondurus three years earlier. A bad apple from the word go, he'd fled his home country with several petty charges hanging over him and it hadn't taken long before he'd accumulated the same baggage here. Having settled initially in North Carolina, it didn't take long before a series of breaking and enterings along with an assault charge necessitated a move south. It wasn't long after Ernesto and his brother found their way to Alabama that Jesus Ayala was arrested on weapons and distribution charges. His only other real option other than returning home was an Uncle living in Nevada. Ernesto bought a bus ticket and went west, but the recession and the deflated housing market prevented him from finding any gainful employment there.

In lieu of that, it didn't take Ernesto long to fall in with the wrong crowd again and he found himself running drugs back and forth between Vegas and Northern California. Ernesto's main issue with that profession was his inability to sell more than he used for himself. Taking that into account, it wasn't long before Ernesto was considerably short on what he owed his supplier.

Strung out on meth and over a thousand dollars in the hole, Ernesto Ayala was about to meet Rochelle Stewart and Gavin McGowan under less than ideal circumstances in a rain soaked Central California shopping mall parking lot. Loaded gun in hand, Ernesto's basic plan was to wait in the shadows until the next vulnerable person came along, allow them to withdraw their money then step out with a gun and take the loot before escaping on foot. A couple times of doing that around town, he reasoned, and he'd have his money.

To say he was a step slow in implementing his plan would be an understatement. Between the slickness of the drenched asphalt, and the two and a half days without sleep from his tweaking binge, by the time Ernesto had clumsily stumbled up to Rochelle's car, she had already withdrawn her money and pulled it back inside the car.

Knowing his face was already on the overhead camera, Ernesto was confronted with millisecond decision between fight or flight. In that moment his fear for what his 'Boss' may do to him outweighed anything the legal system might and Ernesto stuck his gun inside the rolled down window of the Volvo before opening the door and shoving the female driver into the passenger seat.

"What the fuck have I got myself into?" he kept muttering to himself in Spanish as he steered the Volvo out of the parking lot, making sure to keep the gun in his trembling right hand trained on the woman's head beside him.

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A weird sort of calm gradually settled inside the vehicle. Rochelle had slowly shifted her weight down until she was sitting half on the seat and half on Gavin who'd pressed himself all the way against the passenger side door. Composed as she could be with a gun aimed at her head, Rochelle took one long deep breath after another as she tried re-assuring Gavin, who's eyes were still as round and glassy as the instant the man had stormed the car.

It took a few minutes but Rochelle could tell the stranger didn't want to kill them, that he was just after some money and in his own way, was just as scared as she was with the situation he'd boxed himself in to.

"Ernesto," she said to herself noticing the cursive script tattoo on the carjacker's frail and drug riddled right arm.

The traffic in town had thinned considerably during the thunderstorm and the Vovlo had made five or six miles within the first 10 minutes of the abduction. The insides of the windows steamed from the combination of humidity in the air and the heated fear of the car's three occupants, no one on the outside would have really had a chance to get a good look inside as Ernesto drove aimlessly on.

Assuming the man's only goal was monetary, with the hundred dollars he'd taken during the initial altercation, Rochelle figured she could end the situation peacefully by agreeing to stop at another out of the way ATM and withdraw the rest of the money she had in her account in return for letting her and Gavin go.

Taking her up on her offer, Ernesto wheeled off the main road and found a secluded ATM kiosk near a park. Taking both Rochelle and Gavin's cell phones and tossing them into the bushes lining the road, the 22 year old habitual offender took the older woman's debit card, slid it in the slot, used the pin number she gave him and took the $1,2000 remaining in the account.

With most of the money he needed in hand to pay off his drug debt, Ernesto could have easily let his two captives go then disappeared. As with many decisions in his mistake prone life however, Ernesto Ayala made the glaringly wrong choice.

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The same way a drunk might take one last shot of scotch before making a tough decision, Ernesto snorted another hit of his meth stash right after draining Rochelle Stewart's bank account.

Gavin could instantly see a change come over the man behind the wheel. Seemingly timid and scared during the entire drive to the outskirts of town, once the drugs hit Ernesto's system he suddenly transformed into a fidgety and foaming at the mouth animal right beside him.

Huddled close to Rochelle, their bodies pressed together like sardines in the passenger seat, the two watched as Ernesto's entire body flinched and trembled as he sat there with the engine idling, deciding what to do next.

Ernesto's drug induced metamorphosis wasn't a good omen for Rochelle and Gavin. Over the next few months, Gavin would spend a lot of time online trying to make some sense of the ordeal he'd been put through. Reading up on what people were capable of under the influence of meth, and whatever else Ernesto might have had flowing through his system that day in the car, Gavin's blood would run cold as he sat in front of the computer, dealing with post traumatic stress that had insidiously crept upon him.

The invincibility and unchecked primal pull that had instantly came over Ernesto haunted Gavin, and he could only imagine what Rochelle was dealing with in private. Even as he sat at his computer desk months later safe and sound, Gavin could still feel the same vertigo in the pit of his stomach as he did when Ernesto put that Volvo into drive late that afternoon, instead of letting them go after he got his money.

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Junkies can be pretty resourceful people. By the time Ernesto figured out no one was in hot pursuit of the stolen vehicle, or its occupants, he began to look at his two captives the same way a cat would twin balls of yarn.

Two hours into their ordeal, Gavin and Rochelle found themselves miles from home on a non-state maintained road, with an ever growing sense of uneasiness as the sun drifted towards the tree line to the West.

Ernesto honestly thought he knew where he was going having came along to the area he was now driving on a business deal several months back. Considering the stress he was under, not to mention the drugs slicing through his system, his internal compass had been all but fried since leaving the city limits. The more lost he got however, the more of a need for control Ernesto felt like he had to exert over the two people trapped with him in the car.

Rochelle's Son, Andy, had gone through a phase several months back where he was trying to learn some magic tricks to impress girls. Like most teenage phases, he'd eventually given up trying to become the next David Copperfield when he realized it took more work than he thought. Also like most teenagers, Andy left the remnants of his ill-fated hobby laying around in several places, including the back seat of his Mom's car.

Ernesto had noticed the set of trick handcuffs laying in the floorboard when he stepped out to take a leak. It didn't take long for him to do the math and realize it would be better to have his two hostages bound together. Needless to say that didn't sit well with Rochelle or Gavin, but given Ernesto's unstable nature, and his waving gun, they reluctantly complied.

In hindsight, they probably should have rushed Ernesto before he cuffed them together. As on edge and hyper as he was, Gavin or Rochelle never seemed to get a clear, simultaneous shot. So they capitulated and allowed Ernesto to tether them together with the cheaply made cuffs. Gavin's right hand attached to Rochelle's left, the 18 year old boy was forced into the backseat while Ernesto kept his eye on Rochelle up front. Even though Gavin didn't give Ernesto a moment's pause worrying about what the kid might do, the carjacker still used a pair of zip-ties laying in the glove compartment to bind Gavin's ankles together. With Gavin secured in the backseat, Ernesto's attention instantly shifted to the older woman up front.

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The worst block of time happened just before sunset. Without going into the gory details of it all, suffice to say, Ernesto insisted on Rochelle servicing him orally, at gunpoint.

Unable to stomach what was going on less than three feet in front of him, Gavin did the best he could to shield his eyes even though he was locked wrist to wrist with Rochelle. Through his peripheral vision he could tell Rochelle's head was bobbing up and down in the kidnapper's lap and Gavin winced under the heat of the man's sick, virile glare in the rear view.

"Why don't you bite down on his dick?" Gavin screamed to himself, trying to silently implore Rochelle to incapacitate Ernesto and provide him with the opening he needed. Instead she subserviently followed Ernesto's orders, slurping her mouth up and down on his cock until, for her own sanity, Gavin became an afterthought.

Even though it was only a glimmer of hope, suddenly Gavin saw the window of opportunity he needed as both people in the front seat lost themselves in the moment. The one thing Ernesto had failed to do as his drug fueled lust drove him up front to Rochelle was check Gavin's pockets. A bad oversight when you were dealing with a former boy scout. Sliding the pocket knife he always carried with him from his jeans with his free hand when he sensed Ernesto's orgasm starting to build, Gavin sawed it steadily back and forth behind the seat until he felt the first zip-tie give way. Timing it just right, Gavin gave the second restraint a decisive slice the instant Ernesto's primal growls of release filled the cab of the car.