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Diversion

With the smallest twigs still not catching on fire, the few branches and limbs I’ve gathered won’t stand a chance. I’ve blown on them, re-ignited them with my lighter twice and poked them with a stick a time or two, but the few twigs that chose to respond initially with glowing ends are fading. Now they just look slightly scorched.

The tent flaps open a few feet behind me with a rustling sound. Then I hear Sheree say, “So you weren’t a boy scout after all. Just admit it.”

“Guilty. I’m a city guy with no apologies. This is probably only the second or third time I’ve gone camping in my life. I was a kid the other times and wasn’t given the fire-starter job. You know, not being trusted with matches and all that. But I am skilled in opening another bottle avanos escort of wine, unless you want to revisit your thermos of gin and tonic.”

Sheree sits down next to me on one of the large stones arranged around the firepit. We found what appeared to be a secluded camping spot, miles and miles away from civilization as we know it, but it obviously had been discovered by others as evidenced by the firepit. We stumbled on it after walking through the woods for what seemed like a mile or so from where we left my car. With some luck, we might be able to find it again. But right now, that doesn’t matter.

“Wine, Wade. Wine is fine. I don’t need another G he walks toward the wall beside her and steps up to a canister about two feet tall containing thin avcılar escort sticks of various lengths.

She turns her head to her right and sees me for the first time. Her screaming stops and eyes get wider as expressions of surprise, then disappointment, and then despair move over her face. Then she calls out, “Aey! Aey!” That is apparently how my name sounds with a gag in your mouth. I know she’s pleading with me to do something – her eyes are begging me. Tears are running down her cheek.

“Il ga augh oah hiss,” I say through my gag. That’s the one thing I am sure of. We will get out of this.

But Sheree is no longer looking in my direction. The leather-clad guy has walked back to her, now with a thin stick in his hand, perhaps avrupa yakası escort around four feet long. He picks up the anvil, places the stick under his arm, then picks up the hammer and walks around her toward the leg that is not manacled. She begins a low mournful moan that escalates into gagged screaming. She is squirming against the wall and shaking her head from side to side wildly. She bangs the board behind her head on the wall. I feel another tug on my collar and try to scoot closer to her to get more slack on the chain. Moving your body while restrained in this manner is difficult. I have to move my butt, and then bring my legs around while dragging the chain. My upper body is useless, locked in these wooden boards.

When he tries to grab her ankle to put the manacle on it, she kicks at him. He stops and stares at her. Then he raises the stick and threatenly holds it in air between them. He has not said a word. After another moment holding up the stick, he puts it down and reaches for her free ankle. If I could communicate with her, I would say, ‘don’t kick him again.’ But she does.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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