Date: Sun, 21 Nov 2021 20:36:59 +0200 From: Daemon D. Hart Subject: Prison Island - 38 Copyright 2021 -- Daemon D. Hart Please consider make a donation to Nifty! This site is unique on the net and deserves your support. Prison Island 38. Everyone had a weapon of sorts. Francesco had accepted a spear made by Mouse, as his sling could barely be considered a weapon. Karl's plan was ruthless, simple, and effective. As much as the thought of what they were about to do made him sick to the stomach, he had to admit that Karl was much smarter than he had ever thought. It was all about survival, and Karl was good at it. After he had learned of the horrible things those people wanted to do to them, he didn't doubt that their de facto leader was right in everything he chose as fate for that bunch of bastards. They waited in the dark to launch their attack. The men looked scary, abnormal in Francesco's eyes after seeing no one else for so long but his comrades. In a way, they seemed alien to him, the way they moved, so casual, so carefree. They were well fed, indeed, strong and big, so he just ended praying that Karl's plan would work. "Broken bones take months to heal, knife wounds can fester and kill slowly. We only need to incapacitate them until we leave, and then they're no longer our problem," Karl had told them, and everyone had agreed. How could they not? At least, they weren't murdering anyone, not directly. But it was a test of their manhood, Karl had also told then while asking them not to hesitate, not for one moment. Not when it was all about the survival of the fittest, and they had worked all throughout the year that had past to become exactly that. Francesco knew more about whose test that was but kept his mouth shut, as he had promised Karl. That was between them, a secret, and even if he felt bad for not telling Mouse anything, he knew it to be the right choice. The men fell asleep around their fire. They had yet to build anything resembling a place to sleep, a roof, so it wasn't farfetched to believe that they didn't want to lift a finger to do so when they would get themselves some slaves they could put to hard work and use. Francesco shivered as he remembered those horrible things Mouse had recounted of their enemies' conversations. And what Karl had told him, in a few, nightmare-inducing, words. Either way, they were doing it. Only one of the newcomers had been left on guard, so their first target was supposedly easy. Leon moved swiftly, deadly silent for a guy his height, and grabbed the man, covering his mouth and dragging him into the bushes. Karl had showed them a hefty move to put a fully grown man to sleep, and it looked like Leon was a fast learner. Ty and Anya got handy with ropes made from vines right away, tying up the man. Karl checked the sturdiness of their work and offered them a grunt in agreement. Ollie proceeded to stuff the man's mouth with a mix of dry leaves and all the rags they had managed from their worn-out clothes. The prisoner would be unable to start screaming if he woke up. That was one, four to go. Now it was a matter of excellent timing. At one point, one or two might wake up to take a leak. They couldn't risk grabbing them from next to one another with ease as they hadn't been asleep for too long, and their senses could kick in at any moment. They didn't have the means to overpower four men, even if they all were on it. Still, it was a game of chance, so plan B was to risk it once their enemies were deep in sleep. After a couple of hours of tense waiting, Karl told him. "Cesco, can you shoot your sling at that guy at the far left? We need to start picking them berries." He nodded. The rag he called a shirt was glued to his back as he raised his arms and aimed. The man shifted in his sleep, snored loudly, and turned on one side. "Again," Karl whispered, and Francesco followed through. This time, the man grunted and pushed himself up on his ass. For a few moments, he stared around confused, but then he got to his feet and walked toward a bush. The sound of a zipper being pulled down could be heard. And Leon was on the move again. *** "Fucking hold him," Karl whispered angrily. The first guy must have been surprised by their attack, or Leon had been more effective in putting him to sleep, but the second one wasn't as much a walk in the park. Anya and Ty sat on his arms, holding him down, while Ollie was struggling to stuff his mouth to prevent him from screaming and alerting the others. Francesco half-guessed what was going on. Their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the full moon above helped, but still, what they were doing was so dangerous that it made bile rise in his throat. He grabbed one of the man's feet, trying to keep him from kicking, but the guy was fast, and soon, he was sprawled on his back, a sudden sharp pain short-circuiting him from his tail bone, up the spine, to the back of his neck. He bit back a cry of pain. "Fucking bastard," Karl said through his teeth and jumped on the man's chest. Francesco couldn't see what was going on, but heard a short thud, the sound of a fist connecting with a human face, and then a muffled sound. They were on borrowed time, as any time, the noises they were making could alert the remaining enemies. A sense of foreboding made him turn his face in the direction of the strangers' camp fire. Something in the wind was sending small shivers down his spine as he turned on his belly, the pain in his back now dull and pulsing. "Quiet," Mouse ordered in a hush. They all stood still, waiting for what felt like forever. But their senses sharpened, during those quiet moments. The three men jumped from behind the bushes, knives in their hands. Francesco tried to push himself up, but a heavy hand pushed against his shoulder blades in passing, and he saw Karl rushing by him, and head-butting the man in the middle with so much force that he sent him a few feet backwards. The swish through the air let him know that Mouse was moving, too, and in the moonlight, he saw the long improvised spear jutting one of another man's shoulder while he fell to the crowd with a loud yell. The third tried to lunge at Karl since he was the closest, and Francesco reached with one arm as if he could stop him. Leon moved from the right just in time, hitting the man in the head with a deadly lateral punch to the head. The man made a weird pirouette and crumpled to the ground. Anya grabbed Francesco and pulled him up, and together with Ty, they rushed to immobilize the three men. He could hear Karl's harsh breathing, but that meant they were alive. They were fucking alive. *** Francesco could feel the sweat dripping off his forehead, and his hands were clammy on the small spear he had made for himself just the day before. They had the strangers round up, tied together and gagged properly, so their mission had to be called a success. Only that it wasn't over, and he didn't know if he had it in him to watch what came next, as much as he wished to. He knew that he had to if he ever wanted to make it back to the real world with his mind in one piece and not plagued by nightmares and the faces of these men that were looking at them with murder written in their eyes. He understood now what they looked so frightening to him. Something remembering him of wild animals was there, in their eyes. Dawn was breaking. Their prisoners had come to their senses for a while now and they were fighting against their restraints to no avail. Some were bleeding. Everyone was waiting for Karl to put the next step of the plan in motion. "You," he pointed at the group of prisoners, "trespassed our territory and conspired against us." He talked as if they were in a movie of something, but Francesco couldn't hold it against him, not now, when it was his plan that led to their survival. "We don't allow that. So now we're going to punish you," Karl added abruptly. The prisoners grunted and fought to spit the gags in their mouths, but to no avail. How did they look to them, a bunch of kids, underfed and scared, armed with spears made from wood, barefoot and almost as good as naked? Probably it was a weird ass nightmare, and they all hoped to wake up from it soon. Better their nightmares than theirs, Francesco thought, while taking in their enemies and feeling his hatred growing strong. Karl gestured for Leon who grabbed one of the men and brought him forward. "Get his right arm free," he ordered. The prisoner struggled against Leon's hold, digging his heels into the ground, but he couldn't escape. Leon unwrapped his right arm from the vines keeping it tied and spread it on the ground with a hard look on his face all the time. Francesco would remember all his life how he didn't look away and didn't flinch as Karl raised his foot and dropped it so fast that the bone cracking noise, as well as the man's muffled scream almost seemed to come instantly. "All right, next," Karl said in an unwavering voice that betrayed no emotion whatsoever. *** The rule had been simple. They wouldn't break a man's both arms and both legs, but none of them would be left with all of them whole. The group of prisoners was now writhing on the ground in pain, begging for mercy. "You're lucky we're not murderers, unlike you," Karl said calmly and kicked one of them in the ribs, making him curl in a fetal position. "We're done here." "I don't think so." They all froze as Karl was suddenly grabbed by thick arms and there was a knife held to his neck, close enough to draw blood. Francesco felt his throat constricting and his knees going soft. Who the hell was that? And how come none of them had heard him? Hadn't they learned anything from Karl to stay fucking alert? He wanted to scream, while his eyes remained stubbornly on the blade. The man pulled Karl back, trying, as it seemed, to put as much distance between them as he could and fast. Francesco felt all his muscles getting stiff, wanting nothing but to rush toward the attacker and push him away from Karl who was gripping the arm holding him with both hands while breathing hard. "How the hell?" Karl hissed. "Weren't you only five?" "Gotta learn how to count, kid. Too bad you won't live to do that." The man pressed the blade harder against Karl's throat. The air swished, and like it was freaking magic, the attacker's shoulder jerked back and the knife dropped. Karl wasted no time and elbowed the man in the gut. Francesco turned and saw Mouse whose arm was still extended after throwing his spear. "My fault," the redhead said. "Should've stayed in school, I guess." They all hurried in a flurry to help Karl overpower the last attacker, dragging him from all sides and pressing down his limbs. "Break both his arms and legs," Karl ordered, as soon as they had him down. "Kid, wait," the man begged. This time, it wasn't only Karl exacting the punishment. *** It felt surreal as they walked toward their camp. They were victorious but none dared to speak too loudly or celebrate in any way. "Good work, gang," Karl told them as soon as they were back. "Finally, it looks like I made men out of you," he added with a grin, and only then, everyone dared to cheer. "Mouse, I know you've been keeping that for the worst of days," Karl said as soon as everyone calmed down a little. "But I'd say it's good for the best of days, too." "What is he talking about?" Francesco asked and turned toward Mouse who was grinning, too. "Just a little thing I learned from my old man," Mouse said. "It's kind of like wine, but it's better." "Booze? Are you saying that you got booze?" Francesco shouted in disbelief. "I made it, I didn't just get it from the store or something," Mouse teased. "Come on, Ahab," Karl said cheerfully, "out with the good stuff. We got our enemies good, so it's time for a bit of celebration." *** Francesco helped Mouse bring everyone cups made from wood and not exactly sound for holding water. He had a hunch that they would all be drinking fast, so that wasn't an issue. "Thank you for saving Karl out there," he said. Mouse shrugged. "Had to do it. Didn't want the fucker to die over my bad math." Francesco laughed and ruffled his hair. "He's not that bad. And you're not, either." "Really?" Mouse offered him a crooked grin. "Yeah, really, let's just get smashed. I don't remember the feeling of getting tipsy, let alone drunk." Mouse laughed. "Careful with this stuff. It's sweet, but it can knock you off your feet." "I'm actually counting on that." *** It was getting late, and everyone was sleepy, so Francesco moved quietly and took Mouse by the hand. "Let's go," he said. "Where?" Mouse asked groggily. Francesco snickered. Apparently, it was the redhead who couldn't hold his liquor that well. "Let's join Karl in our hut." "Okay," Mouse agreed. Good. At least he wasn't protesting. And Francesco counted on the two stubborn men in his life to be pliant and obedient for once. tbc For early access to chapters and other short stories, visit my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/daemon-d-hart The last short story available for my subscribers is called Wrong Hole, and it's about how a twink crushing on a hot thug gets the cock he wants in his hole seemingly by accident. You can read a fragment from it here: https://daemondhart.blogspot.com/2021/11/wrong-hole-short-story-fragment-tyler.html