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Subject: {ASSM} ...of all Possible Worlds Ch.31 by Rachael Ross (see ch.01 for story codes)
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Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 09:10:03 -0500
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...of all Possible Worlds
by T.S. Severe

Chapter 31


"Oh man, that was dad checking up on me before he goes to bed." Deputy
Miller's voice was full of humor as he returned to the sheriff's
office where I was waiting. "He probably thinks we're fu-uhhh...Hey."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go." I said and I was pointing the young
man's pistol at him, one of those big black semi-automatic kind. It
seemed incredibly heavy and my heart was going a hundred miles an
hour.

"Just, um, put that down, okay?" He licked his lips, narrowing his
eyes at the weapon.

"Go that way...Go on. Back up." I nodded my head. "I don't want to hurt
you; I'm just going to lock you up."

"What? Why?" He wondered and his semi-hard cock was still hanging out
the front of his uniform.

"Go." I jerked the gun a little and he started backing up through the
large central office. "I can't let your dad sell me to somebody else.
I have to go home, see?"

"Go home?" The boy looked confused. "What did you run away for if you
want to go back home?"

"I didn't run away. I got stolen." I said. "Keep moving, back to that
room I was in before."

"Stolen?" Miller frowned. "Look, um, just give me the gun and I'll
help you, alright? We'll get it all sorted out."

"No, keep going." I told him and it was about all I could do to keep
my hand steady. I was scared to death inside. "I just want to get home
again, that's all."

"Well...Hold on then..." The deputy stopped moving. "Here, don't shoot me.
I got...Look..." He was reaching into his pocket and keeping his eyes on
me. "Here's the keys to my truck. I'll just put them here, okay?"

"You're giving me your truck?" I watched him put the keys on one of
the desks that were near us.

"Well, how are you gonna get home?" He gave me a lop-sided grin.
"Walk?"

"Ummm...I was gonna take a police car or something." I shrugged, but the
fact was I didn't have any plan at all, except to get outside.

"That wouldn't get you too far, people would notice that." The boy
shook his head. "You need your clothes too, right? We got your
suitcase, all your stuff."

"You do?" I narrowed my eyes. "You're trying to trick me. Just keep
going."

"No, I'm not." He shook his head. "Look, I just...I'll help you okay?
Let me help you, and you put the gun down and..."

"I'm not putting down the gun." I snorted.

"Okay, um, keep the gun, fine, just...Don't point it right at me, okay?"
He smiled. "How about money? You need some of that too right? For gas
and food and whatever?"

"Yeah." I frowned because he was thinking of a lot of stuff I hadn't.
But I'd never escaped from jail before neither.

"I can get you some." The deputy said. "My dad's got money here, just
petty cash to run the office, but it's some money anyway."

"Okay, um, where?"

"I'll tell you, but you have to take me with you." The boy said
seriously.

"What?" I almost rolled my eyes at him. "I'm not taking you hostage.
I'm gonna leave you here, I told you that."

"No, I don't want to be a hostage." He laughed. "I mean, I want to go
with you."

"Come with me?" I bit my lip. "Why?"

"Cause, uh..." He sighed softly and looked down for a moment, and then
back up, into my eyes. "...I think I love you, Danielle."

"What?" I did roll my eyes that time. "You're crazy."

"I'm serious, I don't know. Didn't you feel something?" He asked,
sounding almost desperate. "When we kissed?"

I swear, if that boy wasn't speaking the truth from his heart, he
should have gone to Nashville and made movies for a living. He wasn't
lying, I didn't think, but still...How was I ever gonna be able to trust
him? He was a sheriff's deputy, the sheriff's own son to boot, and I
was breaking out of his jail. Probably he just wanted to get his hands
on that gun, or just on me and take the gun away. He'd get to be the
hero and the good son of a proud father, and...

Maybe he wasn't lying.

"Maybe." I swallowed hard, because I had liked being with him, more
than just the sex. But I didn't think it was love, not like love at
first sight or anything. Not like I loved my Master.

"Me too." He said.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" I asked him.

"Because..." The deputy took a step towards me.

I pointed the gun at him, but he took another step and just reached
for it, taking it gently out of my fingers. I wasn't ever going to
shoot him, but I didn't think he knew that, and he surprised me.
Surprised both of us maybe.

"...You have to cock it before you can shoot it." He pulled back the
hammer with his thumb so it clicked into place. "See? And this here?
That's the safety, red is dead, right?"

I watched as he flipped a little lever up.

"Now it's ready to shoot." He held it out for me to take if I wanted
it, the gun flat on his palm and pointed at nobody. "Just don't point
it at me, okay? Really, cause it's loaded."

"Um...You'll really come with me?" I asked him, looking up from the gun
into his face.

"I'll make sure you get home, Danielle." He promised. "If that's what
you want."

"Even though I have a Master?" I bit my bottom lip. "I'm his bedroom
negra and he..."

"He probably wants you back, yeah." The deputy nodded. "I would too if
I was him."

"But..." I sighed, frowning and looking down. "You don't even know me.
Your dad, the sheriff, he's gonna be pretty mad and..."

"Look, I'm stuck in this town. I'm going to be a deputy my whole life
probably, working for my dad. I've never even been out of Arizona, you
know? I'm twenty-one years old. I got no girlfriend...Or boyfriend," he
gave me a sheepish smile, "my dad thinks I'm a fag and he's pissed
about that. I want to leave, believe me. So, I mean...This is as good a
reason as any, right?"

I blinked rapidly as I took all that in.

"Aren't you a good enough reason, Danielle?" The man asked me softly.

He'd long since put that gun down, and we were just standing there
empty handed. I didn't know what to say, or even what to do, but I'd
liked his words a lot. He had his own reasons for helping me, other
than any foolish romantic notions. He was a boy trying to be a man, I
supposed, and so long as he stayed in that town, his father wasn't
going to let him grow up. Least-wise that's what he seemed to be
saying to me, that's how the young Miller thought of it, and that's
really all that counted.

And maybe, I allowed myself a warm little thought, just maybe he
really did love me the way he thought he did.

"Okay." I nodded. "Yeah, you can come with me, I guess."

"Yeah? Okay. Good, yeah then, uh, alright let's get your clothes,
right? And some money and uh, we'll go." He was smiling and animated
suddenly, and looking around, trying to think of everything.

"Hey."

"Huh? What?" He looked at me.

"What's your first name anyways?" I asked him with a smile.

"Oh, it's Andrew...Uh, Drew." He shrugged.

"Okay, Drew." I giggled. "You might want to, um, put that...Away."

I was pointing at his penis, which was soft and forgotten, hanging out
of his trousers and still wet with his precum. It had made a little
stain on the front of the deputy's uniform and he looked down at it
with some surprise. Drew's face grew red as he blushed and I just
teased him with a sad shake of my head.

"Well, that's....Embarrassing." He smacked his lips, turning away from
me so he could fix himself. "Sorry."

"Oh, it didn't bother me." I looked all innocent for him. "I thought
it was kind of cute actually."

"At least we got it out of the way." He took a deep breath. "I mean,
you know, even farting won't be a big deal after that."

"You fart?" I looked at him in shock and then laughed as he took a
second to catch up with me.

"Do you like Mexican food?" He asked and he was leading us to my
clothes, or so I assumed.

"Oh don't mention food, I'm starving." I groaned.

"We'll go south first." Drew decided and he was unlocking a closet, or
a little storeroom, I guess. "Here...This one's yours, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's my suitcase." I nodded. "Why south? For Mexican food?"

"Yeah." He grinned at me. "That and they'll be looking in the other
directions. You know, Memphis is east, that's where you're from,
right?"

"Yeah." I replied, following him to the sheriff's office while he
carried the little suitcase and all the clothes that Mr. Davis had
bought me.

"The Union is North, in case you want to get free." Drew said. "And
west is Nevada, where you might as well be free, and California, where
they'd probably put you in a beer commercial."

"What?" I laughed. "They would not."

"Shoot, have you seen yourself?" Drew grinned at me as he pried open
his father's desk with the sheriff's coffee spoon it looked like.
"You're hot. I'd buy all kinds of beer from you."

"Oh God." I rolled my eyes and I was shrugging myself out of that
orange jumpsuit I was wearing.

"But south...Ah, there..." He had the drawer open and he pulled out a
little metal box. "...Shoot, all they got down there is Old Mexico and
the border patrols."

"You said that was the way to go, though." I watched as he opened the
box, pulling out a thin sheaf of dog eared Confederate dollars.
"South?"

"Yeah, and then east and across the desert that way." Drew said,
counting the money. "Takes a little longer, but it's safer maybe. We
got two hundred and forty six dollars."

"Ohhh..." I nodded my head slowly.

"What?" Drew looked at me and I was pretty naked, which made him
swallow hard and then look away, turning his head like a real
gentleman, which made me smile.

"I get it now, a longer trip, huh?" I grinned at him. "That's okay, I
guess."

"Oh, no...I didn't mean like I wanted to go south cause I'd be with you
longer." He said, taking a peek as I pulled an emerald green sun dress
into place. "But, I'm not gonna complain."

"Uh-huh, okay." I agreed dubiously, buttoning my buttons, about
thirteen of them all down the front. I hadn't bothered with a bra,
just some white bikini panties.

"Hmmm..." Drew rubbed his handsome jaw, glancing around like he was
trying to think of what else we might need, but mostly he was looking
at me and I smiled prettily for him.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"What are we gonna say if we get stopped?" I asked, sitting in the
front of Drew's pickup truck.

It was a Japanese one, black with big tires and roll bars and fog
lights. I liked the way it sat up kind of high and the big bench seat
let me get comfortable, leaning up against the man while he drove. I
was eating his dinner, a sandwich and some chips and an apple he'd
brought with him to work. I was pretty hungry, but not tired, even
though it was after midnight. I'd taken a pretty good nap earlier.

Old Aaron Sumner was singing on the radio, a song from back when he
was young and skinny and beautiful. The King of Rock n Roll and he was
from Memphis, like all the early rockers were. The South invented rock
n roll, you know. And Aaron was The King and even though his songs
were old and you heard them a million times already, they were still
good and I wondered what the world would be like without him in it. I
guessed there'd be a different King then, but he wouldn't be as good
probably. There was only one Aaron Sumner and he always made me feel
better.

"Well, I guess we'll just say you're my negra." Drew shrugged in
answer to my question. "And hope they don't scan you."

"Heh." I snorted at that.

"What?" He looked at me and Drew had his right arm around my shoulders
while he drove.

"Wouldn't do them any good now." I said, swallowing the last of the
sandwich. "I don't have a slave tattoo any more."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Cause the sheriff took it off." I said. "He had some guy do it, um,
Stanley or something?"

"Stanley Gibbons? He's the County Recorder." Drew sounded puzzled.
"What did he do that for?"

"So he could auction me off." I nodded. "So nobody would know who
owned me."

"That's illegal as hell." Drew was frowning. "That's an automatic ten
years in jail for messing with a slave tattoo."

"That's why I couldn't stay." I said. "They were gonna auction me off,
split the money up probably."

"Shit." Drew didn't sound too happy. "My dad was doing that?"

"Yeah." I nodded, feeling kind of bad because it was plain the young
man had no idea what his father was up to.

"See? That's the kind of stuff I hate." Drew said.

"What's that?"

"My dad, doing that kind of thing." He was nodding to himself. "He's
always telling me to do the right thing, you know, be a good Christian
and join the Klan and be a good deputy."

"Hmmm." I sighed, biting my apple.

"And he's breaking the law, a big law too. He's so full of it." Drew
sighed too.

"You're in the Ku Klux Klan?" I asked him, just to change the subject.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He nodded. "Course I am. It's mandatory, you know, in
high school, and if you're a cop, well, it's still mandatory." He
laughed. "They say it ain't, but...You know."

"Yeah." I shrugged, even though I didn't really know.

"It's fun anyway, mostly, but sometimes we have to take care of
business. Last month we busted up some Revival outside of town." Drew
chuckled. "This nigger preacher was talking bout how Jesus was black
or some crap like that."

"Jesus was black?" I giggled at that idea.

"Yeah, he was saying that since Jesus lived there in Africa that he
had to be a nigger too." Drew shook his head.

"Everybody knows Jesus was white." I said. "He's the son of God."

"Yeah." Drew smiled. "That preacher was crazy. He was whoring out his
girls too, that was mostly what they were doing."

"Oh yeah? What was he, freeborn or something?"

"He was from Utah, one of those Mormons. He had like three wives, two
white women and a negra, he bought her someplace though. She's from
the South."

"Three wives?" I laughed. "I ain't never heard of that."

"Yeah, Utah's a weird country." Drew nodded. "That preacher said God
told him to come down south and spread the word that Jesus was a
nigger and didn't like slaves, cause all the Jews were slaves before,
you know, and Jesus was a Jew."

"Jesus was a black Jew?" I rolled my eyes.

"And I guess God told his wives to spread their legs too." Drew
laughed. "They were doing a lot of that."

"Well, I hope you locked him up for about a hundred years." I decided.
"That kind of talk's just wrong."

"Nah, we didn't arrest him or nothing." Drew shook his head.

"You didn't?"

"No." He grinned at me. "We lynched that nigger. His wives got sent
back to Utah, they got their own punishments up there for being
whores. I guess the Mormons don't like that stuff."

"You hung him? A preacher?" I blinked at Drew in the dim light of the
dash and he nodded.

"He wasn't no real preacher anyway, not saying that kind of stuff."
The man said.

"Yeah, that's true." I agreed, but I was pretty shocked to learn
they'd killed the man. "Hanging him, though...How come you didn't just
rehabilitate him?"

"He wasn't a slave." Drew shrugged. "Soon as he got arrested the
church guys in Utah woulda extradited him back."

"So?" I shrugged. "He'd be gone anyway, right? Killing a man like
that..." I frowned, "...that's not right, is it?"

"It's not right to do it for no good reason." Drew said. "But
sometimes you gotta make an example, that's all. We let a nigger like
that get away, it's bad for everybody."

"I guess so." I nodded, wanting to understand, but all I could think
of was how I'd never met anyone before who even saw a real lynching,
least not that they'd tell me about it.

"Bad enough we had to let the white women go." Drew chuckled. "They
weren't too happy about going back anyway though. I think they stone
whores up there in Salt Lake or something."

"What about the other wife, the black one?" I wondered.

"Alma? She's the county negra now, does some secretary stuff at the
station, or over at the courthouse sometimes."

"That black girl I saw? Kind of small, kind of...Mousy looking maybe?"

"Yeah, we only got the one." Drew grinned. "Mostly she just fucks
though."

"How's that?" I narrowed my eyes.

"She's the county negra, you know." Drew shrugged. "Somebody wants a
cup of coffee, she fetches it. Somebody wants his dick sucked, she
gets on her knees."

"Really?" I giggled.

"Yeah. What, you think I'm lying?" Drew chuckled and stroked my bare
arm. "That girl was hard headed too; she took a lot of whippings at
first. She said her husband had freed her after they got married."

"They whipped her?" I swallowed hard at that.

That office negra I remembered was so small and quiet looking. She
didn't look like she'd put up much of a fight anyhow. I remembered
what the pony boy had looked like after Miss Corinne had finished
whipping him and I couldn't imagine it happening to a girl like that.

"Bunch of times." Drew nodded. "Raped her too. My dad kept Alma down
in the basement for a week til she was done."

"Oh." I sucked my bottom lip.

"I didn't do none of that." Drew told me, but not because he was
ashamed of it, only because it was a fact. "Pissed my dad off. Jesus.
He wanted me to fuck that girl, just so he'd know I could do it."

"What?"

"So he'd know I wasn't a fag." Drew coughed. "I mean, I know I am,
sorta. I like boys, like, well, cute boys, you know? Sexy ones, but
girls...I don't know what it is about that. I like you though."

"You didn't have sex with her?"

"Me? No, I kind of wanted to try, but no." He shook his head. "Just be
glad they didn't put you down there, believe me."

"I do." I swallowed hard.

"Course maybe my dad was going to." Drew sort of nodded to himself.
"After the judge saw you, then he could do whatever he wanted."

"What? You think he was going to rape me and...Whip me?" I felt my
stomach knotting up as I tried to understand, but probably I was
better off not knowing.

"Oh, I don't know." Drew squeezed me, stroking my arm. "It don't
matter now, right? We're never going back there again."

"Yeah." I agreed, bringing my bare feet up and curling up close
against him, pressing my hand to Drew's chest and he turned on the
heater cause it was kind of cold and my dress was thin.

I didn't know how I was feeling exactly. I'd been shocked about the
preacher, but probably he'd deserved it anyway, spreading lies like he
had. I still would have rather seen him rehabilitated though, since
that was the whole point of it anyway. Rehabilitation turned a bad
slave into a good one again, everyone knew that, and it was a good
thing. Maybe Drew was right though, sometimes people did need
examples, you know. Those Northern niggers were the worst anyway, they
gave all of us a bad name, in my opinion. So maybe I didn't feel all
that sorry for him.

And Utah, well, I'd heard about that place and I never wanted to go
there. It was weird. When the war started some of the other states
decided to secede too. Utah did it because they said it wasn't right
fighting a war and they weren't going to join either side since it was
against their religion. They didn't have any slaves anyway and mostly
they just wanted a country where the church was the government, so
that was what they did.

California did the same thing, sort of, except they didn't want to pay
for a war. At least that's what my history teachers had told me.
California was rich anyway, but they had their own problems. It was
its own country now, but they had a lot of little countries inside it
too. Like San Francisco, which had declared itself a Free City in the
sixties, and so far as I could tell, just about anything was legal
there. Drugs, sex, and rock n roll, that was San Francisco, and you
could be queer all you want, and even marry another boy and nobody
would care.

I kinda had wanted to go there with Mr. Davis, just to see it.

Hollywood was a Free City too and that was where they made movies and
stuff, you know. I mean, the South made its own movies too, right
there in Nashville, and in the North, they made movies in New York,
but Hollywood made the best ones. Some of them were sort of Anti-South
though, according to the government, and there was some censorship,
but that was okay. I didn't particularly want to see a movie that only
showed the bad side of life, especially when they exaggerated stuff.
Like who would? Maybe our own movies weren't as fancy, but at least we
told the truth.

My favorite movie was "Brendan Falls" about a slave named Brendan
Falls who was a real person, or so the movie said. He'd been a soldier
in the war, serving with a black regiment, and he got wounded and
trapped behind enemy lines in Iowa. He would hide out in wheat fields,
like in the middle of a big sea of gold, and there was a negra that
found him, a girl named Sue Anne who lived on a farm nearby. She
brought him food and nursed him to health, and all the while there
were patrols looking for him, and her own father and brother were off
fighting the war for the North. They fell in love and her daddy came
back without any legs, and Brendan helped fix the house and worked the
farm. He brought the man's harvest in even though the father said he
hated slaves and the South, and especially hated Brendan. The boy
didn't care though, he just worked hard and tried to explain to the
older man that he had to follow his conscience.

At the end of the movie, Sue Ann helps Brendan escape back to the
South, telling her father that she'd rather be a slave with the man
she loved, than be free and lonely the rest of her life. I felt
exactly that way myself a lot of times and thinking about that movie
always made me feel like crying, but it wasn't a sad movie at all.
They were happy together after the war was over and the South
victorious. Brendan brought her back to his home in Alabama and the
nigger's master let him marry Sue Ann. He even gave the boy some land
and a little house of their own, because he'd fought so hard and
bravely for his country. They were the kind of black people we should
all be, I thought, and most people I knew agreed with me. It was
popular movie and Brendan was a genuine black hero for the South.

It was why I had to get back home, cause I was my Master's slave and I
had to do the right thing.


End of chapter 31
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T.S.Severe@gmail.com

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