Just Fake It

Fuck. This was not good. This was very not good. No GPS. Neither Jim nor I had a clue where we were. We had to go west. When the road forked I went right, where the sun went down.

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure. You have a better idea?”

At first the road was paved. Then it became a narrowing dirt road.


The road made a wide swoop to the right. We saw lights. Some type of colony.

“A cult?”

“I hope not. Maybe we can get directions. Just fake it.”

As we approached the encampment, we slowed, four women with very pissed-off expressions heading our way. The smallest of the group, dangled ropes.

“Private property.”

“We didn’t see a sign. We’re lost.”

One of the others smiled, “Well, brothers, you’ve now been found.”

The first looked to shut her up. “Please get out of the car.”

We did and followed her.

Near the fire we saw three trees with planks parallel to the ground, about five feet high. Each had holes for ropes at its end.

“We don’t like trespassers. Strip.”

We did and followed to the trees. We were each bound to the planks.

“You can’t do this! They’ll find you!”

“Out here? Everyone knows not to come out here.”

Suddenly there was an argument. “It’s my turn.” They seemed to work it out and one woman approached each of us. Mine was the short one. Without a word, she put me in her mouth.