Dustin

The sounds of love play over, warily Dustin cracked open an eye, peeking through the delicate bars of the cage. Arms and legs entangled, the two women reclined on the bed, of John there was no sign. Letting out a breath, he examined the cage confining him. The latch was fairly rudimentary, a bend in the metal at the edge of the door just snapping in on itself. Bracing himself, he pushed against the bars with his legs, a grin of satisfaction on his face when he felt it pop open. Looking down, the drop was a little intimidating and he knew if he fell he would die. He wondered if anyone else had ever escaped from the cage, or had they just remained perched awaiting whatever fate the women might dispense. Where were the previous occupants of the cage? Were they free? Or were they dead? Stepping through the door, outside the cage, he pulled the door back to appear closed. Looking at it, he nodded. He lacked the leverage to pop it back into the locked position, but by being close it might fool a casual observer from a distance, and by casual observer, he meant one of the women. Drawing in a breath, he scaled the bars to the top of the cage, like monkey bars in elementary school. The hook at the top was easy to climb up and over as were the metal hangers coming off the stand. The stand itself was more problematic, the girth of the metal was very near that of a telephone pole from his perspective, and very smooth. Sitting at the top of it, he wrapped his legs around the metal to see if he link his legs, if he could, he might be able to lower himself down to the ground. Locking his feet, he nodded and began to shinny down the pole. He found it fairly easy at first but by the halfway mark it was torturous, his legs burned, not just from the effort of continuous exertion, but also feeling utterly depleted from his encounter with the women and a lack of any food in his belly. Clenching his teeth through the pain, he pressed on, sliding faster than he would have liked given the weakening state of his exhausted limbs. Reaching the bottom of the stand, he found he needed a moment to steady himself, his fatigued legs wobbly and threatening to buckle. He chuckled softly to himself. Pausing, he listened to the sounds of the women breathing, hoping and praying one of them didn't get up suddenly. Creeping around the edge of the wall, he returned to the closet door. Moving into the darkness, he located and collected the shoelace Simone had lobed back into the closet and coiled it up before looping it over his shoulder. Peering around the corner of the door jamb, he skirted the wall and made his way to the door leaving the bedroom. He paused at the door, looking back to the bed where the two females slumbered. A wistful smile touched his lips, it had been both the single most amazing encounter in his short life but also the most harrowing. He wondered if he should go back, but then John crossed his mind. Where was he? Why hadn’t he been put in a cage? Adjusting the rolled up shoelace, an expression of determination on his face, he exited the room and into the hall. He didn’t know if John and Charles had used the piece of straw or had climbed down the lace ladder, but suspected the former. Gambling on his hunch, he made his way toward the lace ladder. It was still attached and dangling down. With the sun having gone down, the room was cloaked in darkness, that creepy vibe returned, that sense of foreboding as he got down and climbed onto the lace and began to descend. When he reached the second knot in the rope, he realized the lace beneath moved enough to tell him that it no longer reached the ground. He suspected they had cut the lace, making the final drop over three conventional stories to him. Straddling the knot in the rope, like a tree swing gave him an opportunity to rest his completely spent limbs. Moment passed, he unslung the shoe lace from his shoulder and tied it to the shoelace above the knot and allowed the rest of his new lace to fall to the ground below. He grumbled a bit as he had a different use in mind for the lace, but near the deacon’s he espied a lace up set of shoes and nodded. Transferring to the new lace, he allowed himself to slide down, like a fireman down a pole. He wished coming down the stand could’ve been this easy. Reaching the floor, he darted across the carpet and under the deacon’s bench, lying on his back, sucking wind, little body soaked in the sweat of effort. The smell of something wonderful, something delicious touched his nostrils. Rolling his head, he saw some pieces of chocolate chip cookie stashed under a corner of the bench. He smiled to himself. This is where Charles and John must’ve hidden he guessed. Puling himself over, he grabbed a hunk of cookie and greedily began to devour it, ravenous, feeling the nourishing food replenishing his near empty tank.

He wondered if this is where they caught John and if so, where was Charles. How had Charles managed to elude capture and not John, no way on earth Charles outran John, or either of the women for that matter.

He understood the short term amusement the women were enjoying, but he wondered about long term. He surmised they couldn’t let them go, especially after Blake’s death, so did that mean a life spent the size of a mouse? What if they wearied of the game, or found fresh people to hunt?

Charles

Charles frowned. Looking at the jump he had made from the night table to the bed, the table was higher and he had barely made it. There was no way on god’s green earth he was going to be able to make the leap back, zero percentage chance of success. His triumph faded, how was he going to get back down?

He looked at John’s pants, lying draped over the edge of the bed. He knew John had been hiding in the pocket. Scratching his head, he wondered if he might be able to slide down inside the pant leg, like he had seen down with chutes from tall apartment buildings. Looking around, he didn’t see any other options. Climbing into John’s trousers, he moved toward the leg, the denim weighing down fairly heavy on him. Moving into the leg of the jeans he felt the slope of the bed curl away. Moving to the side of the leg, next to the crease, he took a couple of big breaths. Rolling over onto his stomach, his eased his legs around the curve. “God I hope this works,” he said, pushing off. The fabric actually slowed his descent, decelerating his fall enough so that when he landed, he rolled and was able to come up unharmed, “Die Hard,” he said, impressed with himself.

Moving across the room and out the door he made his way back down the hall and to the sanctuary beneath the deacon’s bench.

Something in the darkness at the other end moved. “Shit!” said Charles, unsure of what potential horror might have invaded his safe zone.

“Charles?” came the familiar voice of Dustin.

“Dustin? Oh my god!” Charles exclaimed, rushing over toward his friend.

Dustin laughed, holding his hand up, “No hugging!” he said.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice excited.

“I escaped,” Dustin replied.

“From the girls?”

“From a cage on the stand after they were finished with John,” he explained.

“Oh my god! What did they do to John?”

Dustin frowned. “They used him as a sexual toy, in every conceivable way. I don’t know what they did with him when they were done, I didn’t see him.”

“Used him like a sex toy?”

“You know, like a dildo, in their pussies, their asses, everything,” Dustin said.

Charles scrunched up his face, “Like in their buttholes? Gross.” Then his eyes grew round. “Did they do that to you?”

Dustin slowly shook his head. “Not all of it,” he said.

“What do you mean, not all of it?”

“Um, I have been inside both of their mouths and their vaginas. I also spent a while as a hostage in Simone’s underpants, tucked right up against her pussy,” he explained.”

“Ah man, that’s horrible!” Charles replied, revolted by the notion.

Dustin chuckled wryly, “Not all of it,” he said.

Charles shook his head, not comprehending. “Do you know where John is now?” he asked.

Dustin shook his head. “How did they catch him and not you, no offense?” he inquired.

“John went to a bedroom down here and tried to call 911, except Simone answered, she changed her voice,” Charles explained.

Dustin nodded, cerebral gears turning. “I suspect they might be able to imitate us and use it as a means of luring out into the open. We need a call and answer system, like, saying the school’s sports team name,” he said, lips pursed, brow furled.

Charles frowned, “So I like say Mountaineers and you know it’s me?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Exactly, so if I’m out and you hear my voice but I don’t say Mountaineers, you know it’s them trying to trick you,” he instructed.

Charles smiled and nodded, comprehending the strategy.

“I see you have the hair tie and a paper clip, that’s excellent,” Dustin said, pointing to the items Charles carried.

Charles nodded, “I didn’t know what you needed the hair tie for, but I figured if you wanted it, it was probably important,” he said.

Dustin grinned, “I have a plan.”

Charles rubbed his hands together, “What is it?”

“First, were are going to have to try and straighten out that paperclip, it’s probably going to take both of us,” he said.

Charles removed it from the hair tie and handed it to Dustin.

The taller boy tested the strength of the metal, grunting with exertion. Looking at Charles, he nodded, “Here you take this part, and I’ll pull here,” he said. Together they pulled, able to pull one prong partially away.

“Whew,” said Charles, “That’s hard, like trying to bend rebar.”

Dustin nodded and chuckled. After two hours, and with considerable effort, they straightened out the paperclip, leaving the smaller interior loop intact.

Charles looked at the hair tie then the paperclip, a light coming on inside his head. “Like shooting paperclips with an elastic,” he said, smiling and nodding.

“Except we need to get a shoe lace from the shoes beside the bench and we need to put a bend at the long end of the paperclip,” Dustin provided.

“To tie the shoe lace to, like a grappling hook!” Charles exclaimed.

“Sort of, but not really,” he replied, “You’ll see. You look positively beat, maybe you should get some rest. I’ll get the lace.”

Charles nodded, so glad Dustin was back, he fell asleep in moments.