Author: [Chameleon] "Put Your Hands Up"

Chameleon · September 19, 2018, 02:47:29 PM

Put your hands up
By Chameleon
___________________________________________

"Put your hands up!" He punctuated the order by cocking the hammer on his revolver. In the dry desert air the click sounded like a knuckle cracking. "I got you dead centre, Missy. If you so much as twitch funny I will blow you away."

She froze, not even turning around to see her assailant. He was alone at least – she guessed the various parties brought in for the search had all split up to cover as much ground as possible. She didn't answer him and didn't move to comply either. He seemed pretty chatty. If she could be sure he was close enough and if he was distracted enough, she figured she could take him.

"I told you to put your hands up!"

She'd ripped off the top half of the prison jumpsuit, too stifling in this heat. The white vest she wore was tight and clung to her broad body. Her back was quite a sight, she knew. She'd been working out since she was a teen and given prison life, she'd been hitting the weights seriously for the last six months. Her shoulders, always broad, had grown bigger and more prominent. Her back was the traditional inverted triangle of the heavy-duty athlete – a muscular wedge tapering down to a slender waist. She had the perfect V-shape that bodybuilders craved – that hard-men sought. Men like the one who'd caught her, got the drop on her, was drawing down on her.

"You also told me not to move," she said. "So which is it?"

"Funny girl," he sneered. "Don't move a muscle. Except to put your hands up. Slowly!"

She put them out to the side first, the length of chain still dangling from her left wrist, the cuff at its end conspicuously empty.

"What happened to the feller you was chained to?" the man asked her.

"Funny story."

"Well good, you can keep me entertained while I'm dragging your sorry ass to jail." She had stopped the motion the moment he spoke. "I didn't say stop!" he barked. "Now put your god damn hands in the air where I can see them or I'm putting a hole right through your head."

He had the air of the cop, plus the local accent. They'd called in support from the surrounding area. She wondered how many escapees they'd been. Two probably. Four, she supposed was still feasible but she'd not read it like that. Six, highly unlikely. Though that wouldn't have stopped her from making a run for it.

* * *

Alice had been sat next to another transportee, a man about her height but only about half her size. This was evidently not a prisoner who'd spent any of his free time in the weights room. He didn't look the cliché of the hardened criminal at all, white collar crime perhaps. She suspected she could kill him with a single well-placed punch if she so desired.

They were in what looked more like a patrol wagon than the large scale coach affair she was used to, barely room inside for the half dozen prisoners her inclusion brought the total up to. The man she was sat next to had been chained to a hook in the floor. When they sat Alice down they unlocked him and secured the cuff around her wrist instead.

She took up more space than him, squeezing him into the corner. Not out of meanness or aggression but simple necessity. They were in cramped conditions – she was a broad woman and her powerful body took up space.

There were no seatbelts or other restraints, so when the van suddenly lurched violently and slammed down on its side, the passengers were thrown around like pebbles in a box.

Shaken, they got to their feet and assessed the damage. The lights had gone and the frosted windows were barely more than slats – despite the bright sunlight, it was dark inside.

Alice's chained companion was Lawrence, surprisingly unscathed considering that his feeble body had provided an unwitting cushion for Alice's muscular weight as she was thrown onto him by the crash.

The two other pairs had fared differently. One prisoner clearly had broken limbs and possibly much more serious damage too. He was thankfully unconscious, sparing himself from what would undoubtedly be considerable pain. He had that to look forward to. The others seemed relatively undamaged – just shaken.

Alice regarded the rear doors. Now reconfigured to the horizontal by the fallen truck. A hefty kick opened them and she exited into the bright desert day. Lawrence was dragged along behind her, not given any say in the matter. She yanked carelessly on the chain to hurry him along.

A quick assessment of the driver and guard showed they'd taken the brunt of the impact – both were unconscious and possibly seriously injured. She looked up and down the empty highway – a narrow strip leading to the horizon in both directions. Not another vehicle in sight.

The discussion between the prisoners was brief. The man with the incapacitated companion wasn't going anywhere. The other pair was divided. One wanted to flee, the other wanted to stay. Alice decided to leave them arguing between themselves, she didn't need the extra baggage anyway. She was going to make a run for it and as far as she was concerned, the fewer companions the better.

Again Lawrence wasn't given any say in the matter. While they were chained together he was going wherever Alice wanted to go.

* * *

"I said put your hands up!" he insisted.

It was enough. She was ready. Now all she needed was a distraction. And she was more than capable of distracting people.

She drew her arms further up, a compliant surrender, but she did so while keeping her elbows out. When her forearms came up they bent her arm at ninety degrees – a calculated flex. She squeezed as she did it, making her rock hard body swell with muscle. Her biceps stood up from her arms like mountains, their peaks high and astonishing.

Some men found her body unspeakable revolting, others found it intensely erotic. A fair few were unbothered by her choices though perhaps considered the ambition unusual. But no one failed to find it surprising and startling, especially at first sight. No one failed to be distracted to see her extraordinary biceps flexed. This man would be no different.

She whipped around. He was a cop – his voice had suggested that, she wasn't the slightest bit surprised. He was alone – she'd gathered that too. His jaw was hanging slack – his astonishment all too clear.

Alice took this in even while bringing her arm around, aiming and swinging the length of chain like a weapon. She struck home and his gun went flying, his hand broken.

* * *

The desert was hard-pan, a tangle of washed-out wildlife, cacti, bushes, the occasional anaemic looking tree. It looked to Lawrence like the set of a 70s B-movie, alien planet. A rocky wasteland.

"Lawrence," she said gently. "I'm really sorry about this."

They'd stopped. He'd insisted that he needed to stop. Somewhat surprisingly, she'd agreed.

"Sorry about what?" he panted. Alice was extremely athletic and could apparently maintain a fast jogging pace with ease. Lawrence was struggling to keep up.

"It's not working," she told him, holding up the chain. "It's too awkward being so close." The chain was only two feet long.

She had already tried to break it. There were rocks strewn about but none up to the task of breaking the tungsten steel. She'd tried to use her strength. Lawrence had just stared in shock and awe at her bulging muscles. Even through the orange jumpsuit he could see the enormous swell of her biceps while she ripped at the chain with all her might.

But it was no use, the chain was too strong. She had roared in fury and frustration.

It had occurred to him then that she was strong enough to rip his arm right out of his socket. He gulped and hoped it hasn't occurred to her too.

Now she'd stopped again and was regarding him with a curiously callous expression. Lawrence suddenly felt extremely worried.

"Are you right handed?" she asked.

"Yes," he admitted, hating the feeble noise that was his own voice.

"Oh. Well, sorry. That's just bad luck."

She grabbed him and he began squirming and protesting. But what could he do against someone so much stronger than himself? He tried to pull it free but couldn't. And it's not like he could run away or anything. Alice wrapped her hand around his.

The next thing he knew his hand was dipped into fire. A hideous crunching sounded, drowned out by his own screams of pain. Liquid agony ripped up his arm and into his chest, threatening to drown his lungs. The agonised howl spewed out of him.

She stroked his face. "Sorry. All done now." She actually seemed to be genuinely trying to comfort him. His horror and panic subsided but the pain was a weighty ache.

He looked down at his mangled hand. The handcuff was gone.

"Free!" she insisted.

"Great," he murmured. He sighed, at least he was still capable of sarcasm.

She ripped the top half of her jumpsuit off. She dabbed it against her body but in truth there wasn't all that much sweat. The dry desert heat had sucked it from her body. She also ripped a strip to bind his brutally broken hand. Despite the tenderness she showed while doing this, it was a renewed agony.

"You can head back to the van," she said. "Or you can come with me."

He contemplated a moment, weighing the odds. He was clearly nothing more than fodder to her. But then, she was about as capable as anyone he'd ever met. If anyone was capable of escaping...

"Fine," he said. "Let's go."

* * *

She swiped the chain at the cop, smashing the gun from his hand and took the opportunity to cover the short distance between them.

Before he even realised what was happening she had her hands about his throat and was squeezing. To aid the incapacitation she lifted as she throttled him, heaving his body right off the ground to arms' length above her.

The cop squirmed in her grip like a fly on a pin, legs kicking, hand grasping at her grip around his neck, trying desperately to free himself.

Her arms were thick and hard at the exertion of lifting him, cords of muscle standing out in rippling relief.

Despite his efforts, there was nothing he could do to free himself, she was far stronger than him and with his blood and oxygen cut off, he would certainly pass out within mere moments.

* * *

Rising up ahead of them was a cliff-like ridge. They'd seen it from the road, seen that it spanned the horizon. Alice knew they would have to scale it to continue their escape.

"I may have broken your hand too soon," she sighed. But they'd never have been able to engage in rock-climbing while still so closely bound. They'd had to split, that wasn't even a question.

"We can't climb that," Lawrence protested. The ridge wasn't merely steep, it was practically a sheer face. He doubted he'd have been able to scale the rock-face even without a broken hand. "I can't climb that," he amended. Alice knew she could and he was obviously aware of that too. "Go on," he told her.

"Weirdly I feel kinda responsible," she said.

At her instruction he clambered onto her back. She was broad as a linebacker, the muscles in her shoulders exceptionally powerful. He felt kind of embarrassed to be pressed up against her body, to wrap his legs about her waist, his arms around her chest. But there was something beyond the sexual about it, it wasn't even like a hug. Her body was so strong, so uniquely functional, that there was a massively reassuring aspect about pressing against those muscles. It was like the most firm and comforting embrace – a parental grip around a child, guaranteeing safety and success.

Alice began to scale the rock-face as easily as kids' climbing frame. She seemed oblivious to the additional weight of a fully grown man clinging desperately to her back. Her arms bulged as she heaved herself up but beyond that, she made no indication whatsoever that this task even taxed her. A real-world Wonder Woman, she clambered up the cliff faster than he could have completely unencumbered.

* * *

"Let him go!" the other lawman ordered. Like his fellow before him, he punctuated his order with the meaningful click of a cocked hammer, prepping his weapon for the finality of action.

A glance around told her he had her in his sights. Another cop, identical to the first, equally stealthy – he too had gotten the drop on her. And this man too she knew she could best, should it come to that. She was, after all, holding the perfect shield. To simply swing the man who dangled in her grip would put a suitable barrier between her and the potential bullets should he have it within him to fire. But that would mean the certain death of the man she currently held. She was willing to choke a man unconscious to secure her escape, but to actually kill someone – a cop at that – was another matter entirely. As any law-court in the land will tell you, especially when it came to sentencing.

But there was no way she could to escape that didn't put the life of the man she held at risk. His life for her freedom? It wasn't an easy choice.

* * *

From the top of the ridge they had an short overview, could see the sweeping expanse of the landscape led presently to a ravine. A canyon wall on the far side, way in the distance. Alice appeared to decide. She pointed out to far mountain rise.

Lawrence just stared at her like she was crazy. "You want to climb that?"

She rolled her eyes. "No we head alongside it." She pointed off into the distance. "Go as far as we can. Whatever vegetation and cover there is to be had, that's where it is. There's gonna be water at or near the surface. I don't plan to spend too long out here, but if we have to, best be prepared to."

It got steeper the further down they went, the brush and plant-life got thicker. But once they were at the canyon bed it got easier. There were damp spots, evidence of the occasional stream during wetter times of the year, but nothing you could properly call an actual stream – at least not here.

Alice led the way, still setting a pace just a little beyond his comfort level but so far he was managing, with only the occasional desperate break for breath. And so far she was tolerating the delays.

The brush was thicker too, so much so that Lawrence was completely caught off-guard by the bear.

Alice stopped ahead and crouched in the desert scrub amongst a clump of bull-grass. She gestured for him to do the same. He came up besides her and pointed it out.

Large, black, drinking from a pond size patch of water. It was thankfully unaware of them and a good distance away, but that was surely only luck. There wasn't much wind but what there was was working in their favour. Should it shift, the bear would easily catch scent of them. And that would be it.

"Can we get past if we give it enough clearance?" he asked.

Alice shrugged. "Probably not. It'll almost certainly notice us."

"So what do we do?"

"We could try and pass, giving it enough clearance," she suggested.

"You just said that wouldn't work."

"Well, I can run in these shoes," she told him.

"Not even you can outrun a bear."

"It's not the bear I'll have to outrun."

Lawrence just looked at her. "Is that a joke?"

She shrugged again offering a wry smile. It was a horribly ambiguous expression.

* * *

The cop steadied himself, keeping his gun level at the muscle-bound prisoner. She had frozen on the spot with his partner still dangling from her raised chokehold.

"Put him down!"

If he'd noticed the horribly ambiguous nature of this command he didn't appear to show it. And it's not like the argument could ever be made in a court of law, there was no doubt as to what he meant by it.

Slowly, and surprisingly gently, the woman lowered the cop to the ground. He was unconscious so she lay him down, careful not to hurt him as she did so. She then stood again, just as slowly, keeping her arms in plain view. She held them up in front of her, in surrender.

Her elbows were bent and her huge biceps bulged from her arms like boulders under the skin. It was a sight that was near impossible not to goggle at.

That was when Lawrence swung the branch – the heaviest he could find and still manipulate successfully with one hand. He couldn't muster enough force to cold-cock the cop but it did at least send him sprawling. As he turned on Lawrence, Alice had already covered the distance. She wrapped both arms around his neck, locking them.

Her forearm a bar across his throat, she increased the pressure until he passed out and slumped in her grip. She lowered him down gently and immediately began undressing him.

Without looking, she addressed Lawrence. "Thanks, I owe you one."

"I think we're even."

Lawrence thought of the way she'd dealt with the bear. She'd strode up to it, wrapping the chain about her fist. She'd dodged the lethal swipe of its paw and swung in with her own attack. That was all it took. The bear went down.

He tried to get his head around the fact that he'd just witnessed a woman punch a bear out with one swift strike. He couldn't. But none of this seemed real to him.

"We're coming to a path," she told him carelessly, unwrapping the chain again. "Won't be long before we're back in civilization. We're going to need change out of these clown costumes."

And now, with two cops down, they had their opportunity to do just that. Alice pointed to the other cop. Lawrence went over and began undressing him.