Author's Note: 6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHsM80DixLi
Day Three! We're halfway there. If you wondered why were are so focused on Julian all the sudden and you wanna get back to Zeph, I promise it will all make sense soon. If you are happy to be away from Zeph and you just need a break from him... COME ON. HE'S COOOL6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEU927Xd8fj
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘₊ ⊹ Soul 𓉸 Rejected ⊹ ₊⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlLUcMI8yIl
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVGTadhvc0K
Julian's ears were hot. His skin crawled up and down his spine and pinched the back of his neck. He wanted to jump over the bush and shove that blade somewhere that would make her really sing. He wanted to scream and tear these men apart, biting and kicking, anything to teach these people a lesson.
The audacity to chase these men through the woods, tie them up and then threaten to castrate them. What kind of vile creatures, grotesque demons, could commit such heinous inhumanity?
But he was unarmed. He was alone. He was against four shot guns and a knife. What did he have?
Nothing.
Nothing except the element of surprise.
Now, this scrawny old man was getting up to relieve himself in the woods. The thick belt and hunting knife on the man's waist was cumbersome, so he removed it with practiced ease as he stood, leaving the weapon neatly unattended on the base of the tree.
It was all too easy. Julian half-crouched, half-crawled behind the tree the old man just rose from. The man had enough decency to be far enough away to not be seen pissing, but was certainly heard. Julian crept around, eying the old man as if he would stop mid-stream and turn around to catch Julian in the act.
It didn't happen. The old man jingled his suspenders, undoing the clasps to his suspenders and letting them fall unceremoniously to his ankles.
As Julian emerged far enough from behind the shadows of the tree, he reached down to the knife sheathed to the belt and basked in firelight. He tore his eyes from the old man to ensure he wouldn't fumble. He grasped the hilt and began to tug at it ever so slightly.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpeyjjsEDB9
It wasn't a loud rustle of belt, but in a moment like this, the clink of the belt shifting against the leaves might as well have been a thunder clap to Julian. His eyes darted from the knife, first to the old man, stood in the darkness facing away from the camp, unfazed but the apparent noise. Then Julian turned to the campfire where the woman was. He was sure she would be sprinting towards him with the blade in hand. Instead, she was absorbed in something by the fire.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi7fncQJW7O
Only a short span from him were the other two captors. They were practically asleep, which was a relief being that they would have the plainest view of Julian if they weren't.
Then he saw the eyes. The white of a pair of eyes staring right at him. Wide. Unblinking.
Sad.
It was the one they called Reggie. He was bound by his hands and feet, mouth gagged but still staring directly at Julian. Reggie wore the face of a man unsure how to react, what to think, and what options he had.
He searched for any hint of 'fight' left in Reggie's eyes. In the end, those eyes fell to his lap.
Hopeless surrender was all that remained. That's all they left him with. Defeat.
Not Julian. Not while he could do something.
The sound of liquid splashing against leaves in the distance broke the tension. The old man finally managed to start peeing. He never thought he would be so relieved to hear another man urinate. For only a moment he peered to his left where the old man's bare bottom rocked back and forth, dancing in relief through the small cloud of steam rising past his knees.
Julian was within arm's reach of both unguarded shotgun and hunting knife. He tugged again on the hilt of the hunting knife and it came free with eases. He looked up to Reggie who was again peeking up his brow to Julian. Apparently, there was still something in there. They didn't take all his fight from this man.
Julian put a finger to his lips and stole a glance around the camp. He gestured silently with his face toward the knife in his hand presenting it as a gift from across the camp. Reggie's eyebrows furrowed but he opened his palms. It was still without hope. Even Julian could see that much. It was only a mechanical response to an opportunity, however narrow that opportunity may be.
It's as if his eyes were saying:
Alright. We're doing this.
Though his wrists were bound together, he seemed confident enough to catch the knife.
They only had one chance it would be one hell of a toss. Sure Reggie wasn't that far, but one mistake and the whole camp would be alerted to them. He listened and looked once more and went for it. He gave a one-and-a-two kind of toss, hilt first, to Reggie.
It arched in the air, glinting for half of a second in the evening glow. Reggie strained forward against his binds, leaning just enough to catch the blade by the hilt. But the rustle was audible on that side of camp. Reggie quickly let the blade fall from his grip, deftly catching it longways again between his thighs, obscuring it from view.
Miss Laudendale didn't seem to pay him much mind. She barely glanced at him before returning to her fire poking to the tune of her soft humming. The rest of camp didn't even seem to notice at all.
Hubris. They think so little of us...
Us?
Julian shook off the thought and retreated behind the tree once more, not yet risking the reach for the shot gun. It would be safer to give Reggie more time to prepare anyway. Hopefully he would just cut and run.
The sound of the old man relieving himself.
"Banjo," The woman called from the fire toward the old man relieving himself in the woods. Julian figured that must have been his name. Her tone was stern, as if talking to a child, not someone her senior. "You'd better hurry up!"
She paused for what could only be considered dramatic effect.
You gon' miss the show," She cooed.
Julian heard the old man shouting back over the sound of sporadic splashing.
"Alrigh', alrigh', I'm nearly done," Banjo shook and shimmied but still found no luck in stopping.
Julian risked a peeked back at the camp and it finally sank in. Sure the men were asleep but if he wanted to save the other two, he would have to keep Clint or the other guy from setting the dogs free. The old man was close enough to him but was literally with his pants down. He would have to be quick and show no sign of fear. Which was strange, he felt no fear.
It was simple to him, actually. Input, output. Cause and effect. They want bad things, they should get bad things. They were talking about castrating men. And relishing the idea! If what these people were talking about was even remotely true, they deserved death. Maybe worse. He never killed before, there was a first time for everything.
If he could grab the shotgun, he could hold them and maybe Reggie can set the others free. He'd never fired a gun before but how hard could it be? It was a double barrel just like in the movies. He wasn't sure what to do with the woman, but she could get a barrel pointed at her just like everyone else.
Could I shoot a woman? She has to be my sister's age. But that bitch is nuts. If she starts to crash out, would I be able to pull the trigger?
Julian didn't take long to consider it. The woman's sickening song answered the question for him.
Yes, hell I can. Ain't nobody out here but us.
It was well past how long any man should have been urinating but old Banjo was strumming his strings a few more times to end the session. If Julian was going to act it needed to be now. He could barely see it, but it was surely there. Banjo's shotgun. Rested upright against a wide oak tree trunk, waiting for someone to put it to good use.
Julian leaned forward from behind the bush, stretching his arm around the enormous base of the tree and put him a little off balance. He gripped the bar with his free hand, clutching the trunk for dear life as his fingers brushed the tip of the barrel.
His finger tip pulled at the rim of the metal, tugging it free from its conspicuous resting place. He nudged it in the wrong direction. Thankfully, it didn't topple. Instead, he found just enough reach to pull the barrel with the very end of his middle finger.
It was then that it toppled.
A heavy composite steel shotgun.
Falling.
Falling and basking in the soft glow of a dwindling fire and the plain view of anyone who bothered to look at it.
It would fall.
But it never hit the ground. Julian caught it mid descent, without making so much as a rustling sound. Still, he froze, straining to hold his position. Between the leaves and sticks that he was currently taking a face-full of, he could see that no inside the camp stirred. Regardless, he didn't dare breathe until he successfully retracted the gun, pulling it close to him and recovering behind the bush.
He let out a quiet, fragile breath that threatened to burst from each heartbeat slamming at the top of his throat. Inspecting the weapon, he could tell it was old. Even in the darkness, he could tell the patina on the wooden stock had eaten a hand-shaped hole where the grip would rest. Scratches marred the entire body but he thought it felt... softer... than he expected.
He recalled his training. He didn't ever have training. He has never even held a firearm, but it looked just like an old horror movie he watched.
Right trigger, right barrel. Left trigger, left barrel. Okay, I got this. Hopefully, they just give up. If not...
The plan was to point the gun at captors, threaten them and abscond with the three men. He looked toward Banjo who seemed to be fixing up his clothes now. Maybe he could take him as a hostage, and Reggie could cut himself free. He would just need to-
"Hey!"
Julian snapped his head to the voice. It came from away from the camp; a man carrying a large bundle of sticks is stopped only a few yards from Julian. The fourth man. How could he forget number four? The one sent to gather wood, now returned.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEARF2goECZ
and then Add to home screen.