The boys put their arms behind their backs. He tied them tight, tighter then they expected, at their elbows and wrists. He took some tape, covered their eyes, and, after stuffing a bandanna into their mouths, covered it with more tape. He marched the bound boys to his truck, put them on their bellies, and bound their ankles with more rope.
With the boys secured in the back of his truck, he began to drive, counting in his head how much money he would make as the innocent boys tested their ropes.
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He would tied the boys wrists behind their backs to their waists, so their arms would not rip off their bodies. Then he would rope around their biceps and hoist them, leaving the hanging by their arms
until the ransoms were paid.
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I already knew it would take a lot of work to escape, but I wondered why he was still tying me up. He looped rope around my tied crossed wrists and circled my waist with it. "Smart," I thought. "Less movement possible in my hands." He grabbed my upper arms and dragged me into some building. He began to circle ropes around each of my upper arms, around my biceps and triceps. I began to get scared as he pulled my shirt over my head, baring my chest. He took a thick Sharpie and wrote the number "1" across my chest and belly. Something was wrong. I began to protest in my gag when suddenly I was off the floor, hanging from my arms, my feet dangling in the air!
Now the sweat poured down my chest, blurring the large number "2" painted across it.
I thought my arms would be torn from my body.
He took photos.
Told us we were kidnapped.
That one of us would die at midnight by hanging from a noose.
He told us he began to throw dice.
He said "Number 3!"
That was the number painted on my chest!
He pulled my hair back and screamed into my face. "YOU WON! YOU'LL HANG AT MIDNIGHT! PRAY THEY PAY THE RANSOM."
All I could do was gag scream in terror as my buddies whimpered in fear.
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