Sunday, January 2, 2022

Broken GPS


 






They laid face down on the ground... placing their arms behind their backs. They crossed their wrists and tied them with ropes.  Removing their boots and socks, their ankles were tied.  One sock was used as a gag, the other as a blindfold.

They were dumped in the truck, face up, one driving the other sitting shotgun over them, tickling their sweaty bellies with the butt of his gun.







They were dumped on the floor of the pole barn.  The socks that blindfolded and gagged them were circled with tape.  They roped their arms tightly together.  They were strung up by their ankles, their heads a few inches off of the floor.



Putting on boxing gloves, they used their guts as punching bags, until they were knocked out, swaying back and forth, their sweat dripped in streams onto the floor.


When Ryan came to, the tape was removed from his eyes....



...which slowly focused on his truck, in the mud!  

Regaining his consciousness he saw his buddies, like him, dumped in the mud, their arms still roped behind their backs, and gagged.  But their feet were free.

Stumbling to their feet, they worked to rip off their gags and spit out their socks.  Back to back their numb fingers worked the muddy ropes' knots until they were free.

They got into the truck, and drove off, covered with mud, their arms scared with rope burns, their guts feeling like jelly.

1 comment:

nakealamonaca said...
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