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Because of problems with Blogger, all new Majorca Flats episodes are being posted here:

https://nickthiwerspoon.wordpress.com/

Blogger Conniptions

When you try and access this blog, you'll get this warning, below.  I set "Adult Content" to "yes" because I didn't want prudes to be offended by the fact that I describe sex scenes and sexual love in Majorca Flats.  

But recently, Blogger must have changed their coding. After ten or so clicks (over a few days) on "I UNDERSTAND AND I WISH TO CONTINUE" it goes into a perpetual loop, with this warning page coming up again and again, making it impossible to access the blog.  The only way to get past this loop is to clear the cache on the computer.  For me, that's no problem.  But for my readers, who might not know about this new wrinkle from Blogger, it must mean that they can't get to read my story.  They must think there is something wrong with the blog itself, rather than with Blogger's software.

So from now on, I'm going to post the new episodes of Majorca Flats to my Wordpress blog/website.  You don't need a Wordpress account to read the blog there, but I think it gets more complicated if you wish to follow the Wordpress blog and get notifications whenever I make a new post.   But you can also get notifications if you follow my Tumblr or Twitter accounts or if you join my email listing/group.  You don't need a special account to join my group if all you want is to get emails notifying you whenever I do a new post.

602

Source

Colin left his car and walked towards the turnoff to the Cross.  He stood behind a bush watching the road from the south.  He was getting antsy waiting for the car to come up the mountain.  Every second lasted an hour.  He felt his responsibility for Luigi and Cody.  The interview he’d had with Cody was etched into his memory.  And he remembered Luigi’s grace and compassion and strength.  He’d been amused to catch the looks form Luigi which hinted at desire.  Colin knew he was 100% straight.  He admired Luigi’s beauty the same was he admired a van Gogh painting or a Bach quartet.  Luigi, beautiful as he was, did nothing for him.  But, perhaps because he was so sure of his own heterosexuality, he wasn’t afraid of gays, he didn’t despise them, and he didn’t think he needed to fuss about them, even if from time to time they cast eyes of approbation and desire at him.  He liked Luigi and he was sorry for Cody, and he took the police motto with real sincerity and passion.  Uphold the right.  Up until a few years ago it had been “Tenez le droit”, and secretly he preferred the former French motto.  As he’d said to Luigi, he’d always wanted to be a policeman.  He’d never forgotten his pride at the passing out ceremony at the Victorian Police Academy, at the taking of the oath which made him a police officer:

I, Colin Pierre Andrew de Graves swear by Almighty God that I will well and truly serve our Sovereign Lady the Queen as a police officer in Victoria in any capacity in which I may be appointed, promoted, or reduced to, without favour or affection, malice or ill-will for the period of five years from this date, and until I am legally discharged, that I will see and cause Her Majesty's peace to be kept and preserved, and that I will prevent to the best of my power all offences, and that while I continue to be a police officer I will to the best of my skill and knowledge discharge all the duties legally imposed on me faithfully and according to law.

He’d chosen the religious affirmation over the secular one because he did still believe in God, despite the behaviour of the Church.  He prayed now, his heart full,

“Lord, save Cody and Luigi, and if it be your will, lead the Killer to repentance.  And give me the courage and strength and insight to do what is right.”

This was the first time he might have to use his weapon.  It was the first time he might have to kill someone to save someone else.  He had no doubt that he could and would do it.  He did not know how he would feel afterwards, but in his own mind, his duty was clear.  He had to save Luigi and Cody.  If he couldn’t also save the Killer, well, so be it.  Like Esmé, he wondered what had driven the Killer to kill.  Like Esmé, he knew that he would do his duty, whatever it was.  I hope, he thought, I won’t make a fool of myself. He didn’t even think that he might himself be killed.

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601

In the car with the Killer, Luigi was considering all the options.  They were nearly there.  The road ascended past beautiful houses, through avenues of deciduous trees in their autumn dress.  At each bend in the road, Luigi expected to see the turnoff to the Cross and the picnic site. 

So what I’ll do is this, he thought.  When we’re both out of the car, I’ll attack him, yelling to Cody to run.  I’ll just leap at him, and even if he shoots me, he might not kill me.  I’ll push him over, and then run away from him.  Also, maybe the police will be there.  But what if they are already there and he just shoots us?  What can I do in the car?  He’s on the back seat, if I turn around to do anything, he’ll kill Cody and then me.

 He went through the options again and again.  None of them appeared propitious.  The memory of his own cowardice still seared his heart.   But people had survived, somehow—poverty, war, pestilence.  And they’d done it with courage and wit, even.  He could too.  He would find a way.  And if he died, it would not be in vain.

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600

Jason was remembering how Luigi had picked him up.  It was the second or third day after he’d arrived in Australia.  He remembered making love with Luigi, and how vulnerable and fragile Luigi had seemed afterwards, as they lay in bed.  It had been the first time since Brent had died that he’d made love, and he’d forgotten how good it felt to bring pleasure and comfort to another and also to receive pleasure and comfort from another.  He remembered how Luigi had wept after sex and how he’d persuaded the other man to tell him about how he feared that straight macho-acting men like Jason would win his heart and then desert him.  Luigi hadn’t told Jason then, but he’d been thinking of Cody when he talked about how straight or bisexual men weren’t to be trusted.  The whole disaster of Luigi’s relationship with Cody had only emerged later.  Jason remembered how their fragile friendship had strengthened and deepened, until Luigi had become one of the people in his life who were truly important to him.  Two of the most important people in my life are in this car, he thought.  And another is on the mountain up ahead terrified for his life.  He was so afraid that Luigi would be killed.  He’d been angry with the ineptitude and homophobia of the police, but now that was gone.  Instead, his anger and rage had hardened into ice, a determination that he would do whatever he could to save Luigi, without letting his anger make him do stupid, ineffective, impulsive actions.  He would save Luigi and Cody and he would deal with the Killer.  Even if right now he had no idea how he was going to do this.

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599

Esmé was thinking of the night before.  How can I do that, she asked herself, when Cody and Lou are in such danger?  But somehow her thoughts kept on drifting back to the three of them in bed, to two male bodies arched in orgasm over her, to the pleasure she had felt as they brought her to climax.  More than that—she thought of how she was loved and protected by them, of how the pain and humiliation of her rape by her oh-so-macho father had faded, and how for the first time she felt safe.  She looked at the scars on her wrists, where for years she had cut herself again and again, the sharp pain of the incisions better than the pain in her heart.  I won’t need to do that again, she thought, a wash of contentment filling her.  And then she was reminded that somewhere on the road ahead of them, Luigi and Cody were in terror and would perhaps die, and she felt a vast sorrow fill her, replacing her contentment.  So much suffering!  And just because hers might be over, it didn’t mean that it would stop in the world.  It would go on.

And for the first time, she wondered what hell had turned the Killer into the psychopath he was.  Had he been born with his kink?  Or had he, like her, been tortured by some older man until the only way to alleviate his pain was to kill others?  Well, she only cut herself.  But he had killed others, again and again.  And she wondered, as the countryside flashed past, whether if she had a gun she would be able to pull the trigger to kill him, and whether if she thought of him as her father it would make it easier or harder.

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598

Keith’s Holden was old, but its engine was big-hearted.  It didn’t falter as the road ascended from the lowlands to the highlands.  With hardly any change in the growl of the motor it maintained its speed up the slopes.  A casual observer might have thought, looking at the three people in the car, that they were on a road trip somewhere, until he saw the strain on their faces and the worry in their eyes. 

“Where is it that they’re going to?” asked Jason.

“Sey that long mountain there,” said Keith, pointing through the windscreen at a range of mountains on the horizon.  “Mt Macedon is the one at the far end.  That’s where Cody was taken last toime.”

“We won’t get there quick enough, will we?” was Jason’s quiet reply.

“Nao,” answered Keith grimly.  “But we can be there to help Cody and Lou afterwards. If we can.  If they’re still aloive.”

There was another strained silence in the car while they digested this.

“They’ll need some loving care,” observed Esmé. 

“That’s for fuckin’ sure.”

“And we can do that for them.”

Jason smiled a little grimly, not taking his eyes off the road.  She knew he was smiling by the way the side of his face moved.  “Yep,” he said.  “Yep.  Wey can.”

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597

Colin parked his police car just off the road on the gravel track leading to Sanitarium Lake.  This was 50 metres beyond the turnoff from Mt Macedon road towards the camping site where Cody had escaped from the Killer.  He didn’t know where the Killer was headed but that seemed as good a place as any.  He had parked behind a thick native bush so that he would not be seen from the road.  The car had a radio which connected him to the search and rescue operation now going on.  There were 4 police cars as well as the police helicopter converging on Mt Macedon.  He thumbed the radio on and spoke to the driver of the police car from the Woodend police station.  He was on its way up the northern slopes of the mountain to its peak.  He would be with him in 5 minutes.  Colin could hear the car’s siren going.  

-

“Turn your siren off, Jeff!” he said sharply.

“Done,” came the laconic response and Colin who just been able to catch the sound of the siren over the soft noises of the forest stopped hearing it.  The radio was silent too.

“Approach with care.  This guy’s killed five already and he probably has a gun.  That’s five that we know about.”

“Will do.”

Colin decided that it would take too long to get Luigi’s car model, colour and number.  But what he could do was use the police car’s computer linkup to check the number of any likely car that came up the road from the south, and if it was Luigi’s to act.  Yet he wasn’t sure whether the Killer was bringing them here to the peak of Mt Macedon.  Perhaps he might stray from his previous pattern?  He must know that the police knew about him, that they would be on his track, and that he probably had very little time.  Yet he had driven out here.  Was his need to cut his victims so strong?  Colin remembered with a shudder the cube of flesh cut out from Cody’s buttocks.  Did he need this special place?  Was there something in his past which made it specific for him?

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596

 

Source

Luigi and Cody and the Killer were halfway up Mt Macedon road.  As they passed the phone box where he had called Luigi from, Cody felt something inside him shrivel.  He’d thought, then, that he’d escaped, that he’d been given back his life.  He thought he’d had a new chance and new beginning.  But it wasn’t going to be.  He was going to die.  Into his heart came a determination that he would save Luigi.  He didn’t know how, but somehow he would.  Perhaps he could distract the killer so that Luigi could escape.  Now that he had given up hope, his mind began to work furiously.  What if he turned and grabbed the killer’s arm and shouted to Luigi to stop the car and run away?  Would that work?  With his eyelids lowered he considered the killer on the seat beside him.  The man held his gun in his hand with the assurance of someone who knew what he was about.  The gun was pointing towards Cody’s stomach, out of sight of passers-by.  So Cody considered, careful not to show his thoughts on his face.  If he grabbed the gun and the killer fired, could he turn it far enough away from himself to not die immediately so that Luigi would have enough time to get away?  No.  The time to act would come when they got out of the car.  The killer would make Luigi get out first.  Cody would be next.  But the killer would have to get out of his side of the car.  But that wouldn’t work either.  How could he grasp the killer’s hand when he was on the other side of the car?   He had to do it while the killer was still in the car.  Shout at Luigi to run and grab the killer’s gun arm as Luigi ran away. 

They were getting close.  It would be soon.  Cody closed his eyes and sent up a prayer to a deity he only half believed in.  It was time for God, who had made him bisexual, and had given him so much pain, to help him, to redress the balance.  Please, he thought, I don’t care about me, but let Luigi escape.

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595

A few minutes later, the freeways started to climb up into the highlands.  A police car with its siren going and lights flashing passed them doing at least 130 kilometres per hour.

“Stupid fucks!” Keith was angry.  “They’ll frighten the killer and then he’ll kill Lou and Cody.”

“Calm down, Key.  Maybe it’s just for now,” said Esmé.  “We’re half an hour behind them. Maybe they’ll use the siren until they get closer and then turn it off.”

Keith didn’t answer.  A minute or two after that, they heard the sound of a chopper going by fast.  It flew overhead, a few hundred metres up, and its noise for a moment was so loud that even if they’d spoken they wouldn’t have heard each other.

As the sound diminished, Keith said, “Well, at least they’ve taken it seriously.”

“They’ll be too late!” Jason answered, agonised.  “Lou and them must be there by now!”

“If they’re still alive!” replied Keith grimly.

“He always killed his victims on Mt Macedon, didn’t he?  The newspaper article I read said that.  But obviously he lived in the city.  So maybe the Mt Macedon thing is necessary to him in some way.  He has to do his killing there.”  Esmé’s voice was reasonable, calm.  But when Jason looked at her he could see the strain in her face and posture.

“Perhaps he’ll change his routine,” growled Keith.

“No.  They don’t.  I know.  I know it very well.  Maybe they change incrementally.  A slightly different modus operandi each time.  But I think he’ll want to be where he was before.  Even though the situation is different this time.  Where he does it means something to him.  Mt Macedon is important, for some reason.”

Keith flicked her a quick glance, then turned his eyes back to the road.  “Okay.” 

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