Sequel: Going Bush 2: Suburbia ›
Status: Finished, but beware - the sequel is three times in length :)
Going Bush
13
Time went by quickly for Taylor, and it didn’t seem all that long before he began to hear Nate’s footsteps on the back veranda.
Taylor didn’t believe his heart could sink any further, until what he saw in Nate’s arms proved him wrong.
Chains.
“These do?” Nate asked, showing them to his accomplice.
“Got a lock?”
“Yeah.”
“Good then. Go for it,” he nodded toward Taylor.
Taylor began to back off as Nate approached him, soon becoming cornered in the doorway to the living room area. When he had to stop he kept his arms behind him, his eyes locked to the chains Nate held.
“Give me your hands,” Nate ordered.
Taylor subconsciously began to shake his head.
“Give me your hands,” Nate repeated louder, before Taylor heard the clicks of the rifle arming.
His eyes darted across to Bernard.
“Don’t make it harder, son,” he said, the rifle slung easily over one shoulder and the barrel pointed down in his direction.
With a gulp and quite obviously shaking, Taylor slowly brought his hands out. When Nate thought he could, he grabbed hold of Taylor’s right and quickly began looping the chain around his wrist before taking his other hand and doing the same thing. When he was happy with it, he slipped the padlock on. Taylor bit his lip and closed his eyes the second he heard the click.
Nate stood and made his way back to Bernard.
“I need to make a phone call, then we’ll disconnect the lines and get going. We can’t stay here,” the older man ordered in his gruff voice.
“Ok. Who are you calling?”
“Trent.”
Nate’s face brightened considerably.
Taylor leant his head back against the wall, keeping his eyes closed as he heard them bustle around a little. He heard Bernard grumbling about phone placement before he found it and called who he needed to.
He was off the phone soon enough, though Taylor had paid no mind as to what he was saying. More concerned with what was on his wrists, and more importantly… on his hands.
*
Isaac paced nervously outside the emergency ward. The last he’d heard being that Zac had gone in for emergency surgery.
The only reason he wasn’t verbally assaulting anyone in the demand for news of his brother being that he’d been locked out.
The next time the door opened, he rushed to the nurse.
“What’s happening?” he demanded sternly.
The nurse stopped abruptly and considered the question for a moment.
“The bullet is still in there,” he said softly, “it’s in a delicate place and we need to be careful. But if it helps I think your brother will be fine.”
Taylor didn’t believe his heart could sink any further, until what he saw in Nate’s arms proved him wrong.
Chains.
“These do?” Nate asked, showing them to his accomplice.
“Got a lock?”
“Yeah.”
“Good then. Go for it,” he nodded toward Taylor.
Taylor began to back off as Nate approached him, soon becoming cornered in the doorway to the living room area. When he had to stop he kept his arms behind him, his eyes locked to the chains Nate held.
“Give me your hands,” Nate ordered.
Taylor subconsciously began to shake his head.
“Give me your hands,” Nate repeated louder, before Taylor heard the clicks of the rifle arming.
His eyes darted across to Bernard.
“Don’t make it harder, son,” he said, the rifle slung easily over one shoulder and the barrel pointed down in his direction.
With a gulp and quite obviously shaking, Taylor slowly brought his hands out. When Nate thought he could, he grabbed hold of Taylor’s right and quickly began looping the chain around his wrist before taking his other hand and doing the same thing. When he was happy with it, he slipped the padlock on. Taylor bit his lip and closed his eyes the second he heard the click.
Nate stood and made his way back to Bernard.
“I need to make a phone call, then we’ll disconnect the lines and get going. We can’t stay here,” the older man ordered in his gruff voice.
“Ok. Who are you calling?”
“Trent.”
Nate’s face brightened considerably.
Taylor leant his head back against the wall, keeping his eyes closed as he heard them bustle around a little. He heard Bernard grumbling about phone placement before he found it and called who he needed to.
He was off the phone soon enough, though Taylor had paid no mind as to what he was saying. More concerned with what was on his wrists, and more importantly… on his hands.
*
Isaac paced nervously outside the emergency ward. The last he’d heard being that Zac had gone in for emergency surgery.
The only reason he wasn’t verbally assaulting anyone in the demand for news of his brother being that he’d been locked out.
The next time the door opened, he rushed to the nurse.
“What’s happening?” he demanded sternly.
The nurse stopped abruptly and considered the question for a moment.
“The bullet is still in there,” he said softly, “it’s in a delicate place and we need to be careful. But if it helps I think your brother will be fine.”