Majorca Flats - 241

Mt Macedon Forest

He turned as he heard a scrabbling sound from behind him. Fuck! The little cunt! The twink was escaping. He could see the nude body gleaming in the starlight running—staggering—away into the eucalyptus forest. Gripping the knife, he set off in pursuit. The twink couldn't run very fast. He was obviously still drugged. The killer speeded up. He was fit. He ran every day. He went to the gym at St Joseph's. He was a match for any drugged-up twink. They were only a few strides apart now. He could hear the panting, sobbing breath of his victim. Good! Let him feel the righteous terror of The Lord!

He was catching up! Impatient, he reached out, and at that moment his foot caught on a thin branch across his path, and he fell. His face came down hard on a stump of a tree, and though most of the stump was rotten, there was a point at one end, and his forehead impacted it with force enough to dizzy and stun him.

By the time he could see again, the forest was silent. He listened carefully for the sound of someone crashing through the undergrowth. There was no sound. Just the distant hum of the freeway in the pass, kilometres away. The clunk-kachunk of a goods train on the railway line towards Woodend.

His victim had escaped.

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Episodes 1 to 220 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

Majorca Flats -- 240

Now.

It was time.

He took off his shoes, then his other clothes, then put his shoes back on. There was always a risk that he'd get blood on his shoes, though he hadn't yet, but there was no way he was going to walk around barefoot in the dark. He opened the door on the van and unlocked the lift-up lid of the bench. The twink lay quite still, obviously still drugged.

Good.

He lifted him out. His burden stirred but then subsided again. Even better. Not too drugged to be unaware of what was happening to him. There were three hours till dawn. Time. His cock swelled in anticipation. He leaned the twink against the side of the van, his tied wrists behind him.

Fuck! He'd forgotten the knife. How could he have been so careless! Leaving the drugged man where he was, he climbed into the van, and opened the kitchen drawer. The knife gleamed at him, its shine pure and perfect. God's instrument! Didn't Abraham ready the knife for the sacrifice of his son? The Lord's work was never done. Two thousand years ago He needed to do His work, and there was need still today. Modernity hadn't changed the hearts of men. Evil was ever present.

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Episodes 1 to 220 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

Majorca Flats 229

He drove through the warm summer night. He wasn't afraid of being stopped. He was going camping, wasn't he? That was perfectly legal, even approved of. The healthy outdoors. And yes, it was late at night, but he worked long hours, didn't he? He had to go camping when he could. He had a sleeping bag, food in the cupboards of the little van, and it was perfect camping weather. Why would anyone suspect any different? Even if he was stopped by a booze-bus, he hadn't drunk any alcohol. Alcohol was the snare of the Devil, like all drugs, and led to Evil. And now that he was Chosen of the Lord, he had set aside all Evil. He had been in the grip of Satan and his demons when he had used drugs and he gave thanks every day to the Lord that he had been saved from sin through Jesus' grace.

The journey took a little over forty-five minutes. At that time of the night there was little traffic. No booze-buses, no police cars. He was very careful to keep within the speed limit, but even then, the trip to Mt Macedon didn't take long.

As the little van laboured up the steep ascent to the summit, he felt the excitement within him begin to build.

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Episodes 1 to 220 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)