Anaideia 29

Dale was planked against a tree with knees bent and pants around his ankles as he desperately tried to shit a dry turd. There was no telling how deep into the mountains we were. The temperature was declining rapidly and thick, cotton-like clouds were forming above. If this day was unsuccessful then we decided to double back to the trail in the morning. Meanwhile, Dale was in immense pain.

“Goddamn,” he kept shouting. “Thank god I won’t have to wipe! My asshole is rubbed raw!”

“Let’s pinch it off Dale,” I said. “We need to keep moving.”

“Alright alright,” he said as he leaned forward and buckled his pants.

Vic returned from his reconnaissance with Jim. They were gone for maybe 30 minutes before climbing out of the brush with urgent news. “I found more blood in the clearing below,” Vic stated. “It’s fresh. We can’t be far off.”

We picked up our things and proceeded down the cliff and into a small opening in the forest where beside a fallen and decaying tree was another spot of yellowish blood. Then we looked for more clues. A few feet deeper into the woods was another fresh batch. “She’s near. I know it,” Vic uttered.

“It can only mean one thing,” said Dale as he pulled out his AK.

It was time to press forward quietly with arms ready. We spread out in a diamond shape formation that we had rehearsed earlier and moved inch by inch. Only the sounds of twigs and brush snapping beneath our feet could be heard. Where are you, you son of a bitch?” Vic whispered.

Then from the left flank, Dale stepped into a shallow pit. A lasso tightened around his feet and he was lifted into the air upside down. “Shit!Goddamnit! Mother fucker!” he yelled. Then we broke formation and rushed towards him. Old Jim was next to fall into a trap. “Ah hell,” he said as he dangled from a tree branch.

In a panic, Vic and I attempted to backtrack away from the two. But like bad fortune, we simultaneously stepped into separate pits then a weighted contraption was triggered and the rope tightened around our ankles. The rope pulled and swept our feet from beneath us and knocking us on our asses and before we knew it all four of us were dangling under trees.

“We can’t be this fucking stupid!” Vic said with beet red face.

“Speak for yourself!” I said. “It’s been nice knowing you fellas! We’re now easy prey for Penelope!”

Vic reached his arms out and ab crunched his hands towards his feet using all his strength in an attempt to loosen the rope. “If I could just get to my knife!” he said.

But a faint laughter interrupted his escape plan. The three roughians from the night before appeared from the brush cackling their heads off.

“I should have known,” I said.

Their antagonistic leader knelt down in front of Vic’s face and laughed some more. “It looks like we caught ourselves some city boys!” he laughed to the others.

“Cut us down!” demanded Vic.

“Now I told you boys that this was private property!” the man retorted.

“You’re full of shit!” said Vic.

The man pulled out a Bowie knife, one not all that dissimilar to Vic’s, and held it in front of his face. “You don’t seem to be in a position to make demands,” he said.

“Fine! Cut us down and we’ll leave!”

The man stood up and resheathed the knife. “Nah I don’t think so,” he said. “Besides, I think I could put y’all into good use.”

He signaled to the other two to cut us down. First, they grabbed our hands and tied them behind our backs. Then they reached above our feet to cut the rope. One by one, we plopped to the ground while our ankles remained lassoed. The man then picked up the Uzi that I dropped in the malaise and held it up. “An Uzi?!” he exclaimed. “Goddamn, you boys were aimin to kill something out here.”

The other two confiscated our weapons and aimed them at us. “Alright,” the man announced, “it might take a little bit but I’m gonna need y’all to start hopping in this direction. Don’t worry, we don’t have far to go.”

TO BE CONTINUED…