Fiends

    George moaned, but did as he was told. He crept past the support, shined his lantern behind it, raised the light to check the backsides of the other three supports, and swung it every which way. ‘Okay over there,’ he said, his voice shaking. He hurried back to our side of the tunnel. ‘Want me to open the wine?’

    ‘Might as well,’ Jim said.

    George squatted, set down his sack, and lifted out the bottle. He stood up with it. Jim held his light on its neck while George picked at the foil with a dirty fingernail.

    I took the opportunity to look around. I stayed put, but swept my light here and there. It gleamed off the glass of an empty bottle a few feet away. Over near the wall was a rag, maybe a shirt. It was surrounded by broken glass, cans, mashed cigarette packs. Halfway up the wall was an enormous black Swastika. I’d seen it before, but the drawing beside it was new to me - a rump with a hard-on shoved into its hole.

    I decided to quit looking around.

    George had the wine bottle clamped between his legs, a Swiss Army knife in his hands. He pried out the knife’s corkscrew, then bent over and started twisting it into the top of the bottle.

    Once it was in deep, he started pulling and grunting.

    ‘Awful tight,’ he muttered.

    ‘Why don’t you give it a try,’ Jim said to me.

    George handed over the bottle. I set my flashlight on the ground, pinned the bottle between my legs the same way he’d done, and tugged on the knife.

    At first, the cork wouldn’t give.

    ‘Hurry it up,’ Jim said. ‘We don’t wanta be late to Cyndi’s.’

    It moved just a little.

    Then it slid out fast. As it popped free, Jim shot an arm across George’s chest, whipped a leg behind him, and flung him backwards. George yelped with surprise. Grunted when he slammed the ground.

    I knew this was what we’d planned, but Jim’s sudden attack probably surprised me as much as George.

    I put the knife and bottle down fast.

    George, wheezing for air, didn’t struggle as Jim rolled him over and dropped onto his rump.

    I pulled up my shirt. I unwrapped the rope. By the time I was on my knees beside them, Jim had both George’s arms bent up behind him.

    ‘Guys!’ George gasped. ‘What’re you…?’

    ‘Shut up,’ Jim snapped. ‘We aren’t gonna hurt you.’

    I started tying George’s hands together.

    ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Don’t! Don’t!’

    ‘Calm down,’ Jim told him.

    ‘Is… is this… some kinda ’nitiation?’

    ‘Sure,’ Jim said.

    ‘Is not!’ I said. ‘Why’d you wanta say that? He’ll think he’s… It’s no initiation George. You’re not joining something. We just wanted to be left alone, damn it, but you wouldn’t get the message. You’re not our friend. You’re a fat, grubby little pain in the ass!’

    George started blubbering.

    ‘And a Peeping Tom!’

    ‘Yeah!’ Jim joined in. ‘You been spying on my sister, you dirty pervert!’

    ‘Who else you been spying on?’

    ‘Nuh… nobody!’

    ‘I bet,’ Jim said.

    ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘And you think you’re gonna go with us to Cyndi’s, you got another thing coming!’

    Jim climbed off him, grabbed him by the feet and shoved his legs up till his calves were mashed against the backs of his thighs. Done with the hands, I looped the rope around his ankles, pulled it taut, and tied his feet together.

    By the time I finished, George was bawling.

    ‘You’d better cut that out,’ Jim warned him. ‘Somebody might hear you.’

    ‘They might come for you,’ I added.

    ‘Puh… Please!’

    ‘I’d be very quiet, if I were you,’ Jim said.

    ‘From now on,’ I said, ‘you just stay away from us.’

    We stepped back. Jim turned off George’s lantern and picked up the wine bottle. He took two packs of Twinkies out of the sack. I twisted the cork off George’s knife and put the knife on the ground a couple of yards away from him. Then I picked up my flashlight and stuffed it into my pocket.

    ‘If you’re still here when we get back,’ I told him, ‘we’ll untie you.’

    ‘If we come back,’ Jim added.

    As we hurried out into the moonlight, George blurted things like ‘Please!’ and ‘Don’t leave me here!’ and ‘Come back!’ But he cut it out when we were about halfway up the slope.

    ‘Here,’ Jim said, and offered me a pack of Twinkies as we walked across the bridge.

    I shook my head. ‘I don’t want to eat his stuff. I mean, we double-crossed him.’

    Jim grinned. ‘Got him good, huh?’

    ‘Maybe we oughta go back down and let him go.’

    ‘Are you nuts? We’ve already wasted enough time. Besides, the little dork would probably still wanta come with us. He’ll think we were joking or something, and we’ll be right back where we started.’

    ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

    ‘Anyhow, he’ll probably get loose and be outa there in five minutes.’

    ‘I don’t know. I tied him pretty good.’

    ‘So maybe it’ll take him ten. Don’t go feeling sorry for him. He asked for it, he got it.’

    ‘Yeah. Maybe he’ll stay out of our face after this.’

    ‘And stay away from our windows. I ever catch him spying on Joan or Mom, he’ll think he got off easy tonight. I’ll cut off his dick and make him eat it.’

    ‘Oh, gross.’

    ‘Give him a Hostess weenie.’

    I elbowed Jim, and laughed.

    He made me hold the wine bottle while he unwrapped his Twinkies. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ he said through a mooshy mouthful.

    Watching him, I could almost taste the things. Pretty soon, I said, ‘He owes us, you know.’

    ‘Huh?’

    ‘For all the crap he put us through.’

    ‘Damn right.’

    ‘Besides, he ate our potato chips.’

    ‘Sure did.’

    I took the other package from Jim, gave him the bottle back, tore off the cellophane and started eating. I was about halfway through my first Twinkie when Jim took a drink of the wine.

    He sighed. ‘Good stuff.’

    He passed the bottle to me. I had a couple of swallows. It made my mouth pucker. When it hit my stomach, it seemed to turn into fire. ‘Thlightly impertinent,’ I said.

    That got a big laugh out of Jim.

    We walked along, taking slugs of wine and bites of Twinkie, swinging the bottle out of sight every time a car approached from either the front or the rear. Once we got away from Jefferson, there were a lot fewer cars. By then, the Twinkies were gone and the bottle was almost half empty. I was feeling pretty great.

    ‘Let’s save the rest,’ Jim said.

    ‘What for?’

    ‘For us, stupid.’