JT IN EXILE (1)
JT was changing his mind; perhaps this place wasn’t so bad after all. Hanging there from the tree, wearing just his baggy little white boxers, with his feet barely in contact with the ground made him think that things were looking up.
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Jason wasn’t looking forward to having to go to England for three years while his father, also Jason, - that’s why he was always known as JT – worked out a publishing contract. His dad had been there some 25 years ago and said that he enjoyed it. But his dad had been in London and JT was going to what he was told would have been a one horse town if the horse hadn’t been put down last week. He had also heard that England was always cold and that it rained constantly.
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However, things progressed and JT and his father ended up in a traditional English cottage in the heart of the Forest. No more TUG buddies; he had inherited a love of TUG’s from his father. No more sunny summer days, or so he thought.
At least he had a great school to attend where a lad called Tom was asked to buddy-up with him until he found his feet. A stroke of luck, Tom and his three mates were about to undertake their Bronze Award practice hike but Karl had withdrawn leaving them without enough members to make a viable expedition team. JT, having been told that it involved an overnight hike using a wild site, quickly volunteered to make up the numbers in spite of the English weather and the infamous deer/sheep tics.
It came as a bit of a surprise to JT that, being July, the sun shone and the day time temperatures regularly exceeded 21º (or 70º to JT). The Saturday hike went without incident, all the Brits were very skilled Queen’s Scouts and they pitched camp in the middle of a high stand of ancient beech trees with a view all round where red deer were known to graze.
Their supervisor visited them, checked all was OK and departed for her own bed for the night by eight o’clock saying that she would meet them at check-point 1 the next morning. The sun didn’t set until well after nine o’clock and the time was spent exploring, tree climbing, stick fighting and throwing beech mast at one another.
Not too late, the boys decided to turn in.
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The Sun rose early and it was fully light before 4 o’clock. When JT needed to leave his tent, he was taken by surprise to have his arms grabbed and twisted behind his back and to find a hand clamped tightly over his mouth.
JT didn’t take after his father in build; he got that from his late mother. However, he did have his father’s brown hair and short-sightedness, although not quite as extreme as his father’s. He couldn’t bring himself to wear glasses and favoured contacts. He was pale skinned and slight with a narrow waist, square shoulders and well defined pecs. He was the kind of kid that could have got a job portraying an Elf in Lord of the Rings.
“Keep quiet, Yank, if you know hat’s good for you”, came a voice. “Promise?” JT nodded as best he could with a hand clamped over his face. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this, mate, but we’ve got business with the other three and we can’t afford to have you making a noise yet. The hand round his mouth was not removed.
Not having put his lenses in, JT’s immediate surroundings were not all that clear to him but he could see the distinctive outlines of Aiden and Jonny who seemed already to be sitting against a yew tree not far from the tents.
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OK, I suppose I’d better get this narrative in order.
Aiden, Tom & Jonny were members of the Broadhurst warband. As is traditional, they were in dispute with the corresponding warband from Limewood. Let’s face it, they were fair game but JT hadn’t been advised of the situation.
As all the boys went to the same school, the Limewood warband easily got to overhear Aiden’s team planning their expedition. They planned to capture the team early on the Sunday morning before the supervisor arrived. If they couldn’t free themselves in time, that was tough! It would pay them back for when they delivered Will and James bound and gagged to their own front doors last week with large pink bows round their necks. At the time they didn’t even know that the supervisor was not due to meet them on camp. Bonus!
The Limewood “warriors” arrived very early (about 3 o’clock) in the morning. The plan was to pick off each of the team as they left their tents to answer the call of nature. They knew that the snag was that Tom slept like a stone giant and didn’t ever get up early. Not knowing JT very well, they hoped that he was merely human and would need to relieve himself before any civilised teenager would want to get up and stay up!
The first one out was Aiden; he’d looked like a sixteen year old since he was twelve. Not very tall now that he was sixteen but very solidly made. Usual routine: three men waited beside, and well behind the entrance/exit of the Vaude Hogan in which Aiden & Jonny were sleeping. As soon as Aiden emerged, wearing his light grey tracksuit bottoms, he was hand-gagged and taken to the ground, not an easy task with such a strong victim. Surprise ensured the success of the capture. First success: Aiden didn’t manage to utter a sound. His hands were quickly bound behind him and he received an offer, “Naked or dressed?”
Aiden stopped struggling as an indication that he didn’t want to be stripped.
The Limewood warband had come well equipped: hard plastic balls, football socks, lots of gaffer tape and cable ties and even more rope. Oh, and just a modicum of whip-cord for any recalcitrants.
Aiden had obviously surrendered so the first action was to insert a wadded football sock into another, fit it into his mouth and tie it very firmly round his head. To ensure that the other boys were not alerted, Aiden’s mouth was wound round with several layers of gaffer tape. This was probably more ritual than necessity because Aiden knew that the “naked or dressed” offer was still in place. He was then taken across to the nearby yew.
His long, dark blonde crew-cut no longer stood up as he would have liked and his arms were drawn up into the small of his back by a rope halter. The rope was doubled and both ends passed through the bite in the middle and pulled tight around Aiden’s wrists. A double figure of eight was tied at the base of the victim’s neck and both free ends passed in opposite directions around his neck and knotted off behind him. This left the prisoner with the choice: relax and breathe easily or . . . Aiden wasn’t stupid so he chose the easy option.
The boys having used Hogans, there wasn’t a lot of room for storage so the rucksacks were put into black plastic bags and left outside. This made it easy for the Limewood band to help themselves. Aiden’s first aid kit was located, obviously near the top of a pocket, and a large piece of Elastoplast was applied across his eyes and pushed firmly into place.
Aiden was placed with his back against the yew and made to sit down. His ankles were bound with gaffer tape as were his knees. Just as a refinement, his big toes were tied using a handcuff knot made with whip-cord. This was pulled tight and several more loops added before being tied off and tightened between his toes.
That was Aiden.
Jonny had obviously been disturbed by Aiden’s exit and he was wondering why his tent-mate had not returned. Now he was awake, he soon got fed up with “crossing his legs” and could resist no longer. He left the tent wearing only his boxers that had the brown waist-band and the cartoon characters printed on them.
Just like Aiden, he was taken to the ground, gagged, and trussed up. His wrists were drawn up high between his shoulder blades and his legs gaffer taped together. He was made to bunny-hop across to where Aiden was sitting, turned and made to sit. He was then blindfolded with the first discarded, dew-sodden tee-shirt that his ambushers could find.
Jonny was as tall as Aiden but very slightly built and he had a fondness for over-tight clothes. He sported a short, darkish Tin-Tin type haircut. He began to curse his bladder.
That was Jonny
The muscular lad and the slim one were easily recognised by their outlines even though JT didn’t have his contacts in.
One of the Limewood warriors might well have apologised to JT but the band couldn’t afford to show any mercy. It was important to keep him out of their hair while they “reasoned” with his newly made friends.
As the warriors saw it, the first necessity was to silence the unfortunate newcomer, not because he would have woken Tom, but because the attackers didn’t want to hear what they assumed would be his protests and pleas for mercy. Just shows how wrong you can be.
A short, hard rope was located and an extended blood bite tied in one end. JT’s head was jerked backwards and the thickened rope was shoved into his unsuspecting mouth. The free end was passed through the bite, pulled tight and fastened. This wouldn’t silence JT but it did force his mouth open and made him totally incomprehensible.
Jason found someone sitting on the small of his back and felt ropes being tied tightly above each elbow. His forearms were then forced parallel and his wrists fastened to the opposite elbows. Just a few turns more around his wrists and below his elbows and then the tape came into play. JT was glad he was face down so that his captors could not see his “reaction” to his situation.
Someone started at JT’s left elbow (and right wrist) and wrapped gaffer tape closely round his forearms until the other elbow (and wrist) was reached. A few turns round the right arm just above the elbow and then the tape was wound back towards the left arm where a few more turns were applied.
JT’s captors seemed to be looking for something, then they found it: a straight stick nearly 2 metres long. JT was lifted to his feet. A long rope was looped round the back of his neck and the ends passed under his armpits and both ends were then wound round the stick several times pulling it close to his shoulder blades and forcing his arms backwards. The ends of the rope were lifted outside JT’s arms and tied together forming a triangle of rope, stave, rope.
Someone placed a rucksack on the ground in front of JT and ordered him to stand on it. He did. The free end of the rope was then thrown over a tree branch just above a fork. As it came back down, the free end was pulled forcing JT’s arms upwards and him to stoop. The rope was tied off at the top of the triangle allowing JT a bit more slack. Then the rucksack was removed from under him.
Hanging there from the tree, wearing just his baggy little white boxers, with his feet barely in contact with the ground made him think that things were looking up.
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The Limewood lads had just one more victim to extract from his pit. Even though they wanted Tom to emerge as soon as possible, there was no point in torturing one of the others; Tom wouldn’t hear it even if they weren’t gagged. The only option was a direct assault. They finished unzipping the front bell of the tent and, with the inner tent already having been opened when JT exited, knelt down and pulled Tom’s sleeping bag (and Tom) out of the tent.
By the time that had happened, even Tom was vaguely awake.
“Surprise!” said his captors, giving him an invigorating slapping.
“Oh, crap”, or at least that was what Tom tried to say. He should have known better; the “a” sound provides the perfect opportunity for the un-prepared victim to be gagged. Very quickly one of the rubber balls, that had already been encased in a football sock in readiness was stuffed into his mouth and tied off behind his head. There was no need to add tape because all the other targets had been captured and the camp site is very remote and surrounded by boggy ground. Unless one knows the only narrow, dry approach, it is better avoided.
Don’t you find that sleeping bags with two people astride them make it very easy to restrain their occupants?
Being face-up Tom was the only captive who stood any chance of recognising his captors. Not that there was much doubt. He took mental notes.
He noticed JT hanging from a nearby tree. It was a shame that their American visitor, without his lenses, would not be able to see his belated, “Sorry, Mate” look. As far as Tom was concerned, JT was innocent and should not be tortured, whereas the rest of them were fair game. All’s fair in TUGs and war!
With his mouth filled by a hard rubber ball, Tom couldn’t plead on JT’s behalf. But he did try. He just didn’t understand how disappointed his slightly built new friend would be if he had succeeded.
Normally by this stage Tom would have surrendered in the hope of receiving less harsh treatment but he was determined to plead JT’s case and kept up the vain attempt to be understood. I’ve said that there was no need to add tape but the Limewood lads didn’t agree. The unmistakable sound of gaffer tape being unravelled preceded Tom’s mouth being sealed and then secured by two further rounds of tape. He was not looking forward to removing it from the short hair at the back of his neck. With a, “nngh!” sound Tom abandoned the unequal struggle.
“Morning, Tom, nice day.” It was Will’s voice and he was about to take his revenge. “Have you met my mate, James?” James’s dimpled face with its lop-sided grin hove into view over Will’s left shoulder holing a roll of gaffer tape. That was the last thing Tom saw.
James un-zipped Tom’s sleeping bag negotiating the knees of his mates who where pinning him to the ground. There was still no way Tom could move his arms or his legs. After last week’s outrage, the Limewood guys were out for revenge and the gloves were off. “How do you want to be dressed?” asked Will.
Not being thick, Tom caught the implication. He relaxed his body as best he could in the hopes that he would not be left naked. “Good boy”, said Will slapping his face gently.
Tom was pulled from his sleeping bag frantically trying to stop his rather loose boxers being dragged off him as he was hauled over the ground. By now Tom was not the only one who was covered in a sweat-adhered layer of leaf-mould, small twigs and dust.
None of the Broadhurst lads could really be sure how many of the Limewood warband were present; all that they knew was that there were enough!
Considering what they had done to JT, who was innocent, Tom dreaded what was about to happen to him.
“We’ll start with this one.” James’s voice this time. “Let’s leave Muscle Man till last.”
Aiden tried to intervene; he would willingly have sacrificed himself for punishment in place of any of the others. “We’d rather you didn’t make that noise,” said Will, “unless you want to see your little Yankee mate trying to stand with his right ankle tied to his left knee.” Aiden knew that it wasn’t an idle threat and fell into silence.
JT just wished that he hadn’t.
Following James’s suggestion, Tom was prepared for punishment. His hands were tied in front of him in parallel, palm to palm and his elbows drawn close up against one another. Tom was hauled to his feet and taken to where a rope had already been thrown over a branch. The rope was forced between his wrists and tightened so that Tom’s hands were raised just above his head,
I suggest that, if you try this, it is actually very painful if it’s pulled any tighter!
Tom could still stand with his feet firmly on the ground. He was suspicious.
That was Tom.
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OK, that's it so far.
The prequel is planned but where do you think this should go?
If, that is, it is worth pursuning.
Let me know.