asked Maurice to pump the water for me. He agreed, of course, making it seem completely stupid I hadn’t just asked on day one.
The water was freezing cold. I got down on all fours and stuck my head under the spigot to wash my hair and as much of my body as I could. I wasn’t about to stick my hand down my shorts and give things a good scrub with all the people around (although God knows I needed to) but getting everything wet helped with the smell at least.
I operated the pump for Maurice, although he didn’t have anything on under his onesie, so he had to go nude. The girls had tactfully disappeared into the shed, making it less embarrassing, but we still took great care not to make eye contact, or any other kind of contact.
Yes, we were those guys. The ones who can’t handle communal showers and can’t piss at a urinal if someone’s standing next to us. I realise it’s retarded, but we’d each had a couple of decades of feeling shit about ourselves, we weren’t going to undo all of it overnight.
Dudley was the tallest and had the most difficulty getting low enough to wash properly, but he did the best he could by splashing water over himself. We used the blankets as makeshift towels and patted ourselves dry.
Once dressed, and only slightly damp, we went into the shed where the girls were eating the fruit provided us for breakfast. While we ate, the girls went off to wash themselves, a tacit understanding between us that we wouldn’t enter the courtyard until they were done.
Grayson was at his desk doing more paperwork, so I couldn’t have a look behind the curtain unless I rushed past him and yanked it open. Which I totally could have done—it wasn’t like he’d kill me for it—but I couldn’t make myself do it. I just stood there, sweaty with indecision.
After we’d washed and eaten, we put all our gear in the sacks which now had straps on them so you could carry them like backpacks. One had the blankets in it, the other had metal dishes and the homemade torches. It had taken us ages to get everything ready, the sewing being particularly difficult and painful. Flossie had done most of it, but I had stitched together a very poorly constructed sap and my fingers still stung from the effort. You really had to force the needle through the leather.
I wasn’t too impressed with the results, the YouTube video I had seen made the simple weapon seem much more impressive. But then, all I’d done was stuff various bits of metal into a triangle of leather, sewn around the edges and sewn on a thin piece of leather as a strap. By looping the strap over your wrist and holding one end of the triangle, you could strike someone quite sharply while giving the impression you were just slapping them, which might work well as a surprise attack. But the metal needed to be heavier to have any real effect. Still, it would be more effective than a punch and less likely to break my knuckles.
All geared up and ready to face the day, we set off for our regular hunting ground. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something and that Grayson was giving us one last chance to figure it out. We had the rest of the day to think about it, but after that he’d be gone for good and we’d be on our own.
We headed for the wheatfields, practicing with our slings and talking about rabbit hunting strategies. No matter how uncertain I felt on the inside, I couldn’t show it. If the others lost confidence, in themselves or me, we wouldn’t stand a chance. So far things had gone alright, but it would only take one bad experience to wreck us.
I mentioned my thoughts on Grayson waiting for us to ask him something and the others agreed it seemed like that. But when I asked them if they could think of any questions there was the usual deafening silence.
“We’ve got the rest of the day to come up with something,” I said. “Try to think about it. We should try to get as much
The water was freezing cold. I got down on all fours and stuck my head under the spigot to wash my hair and as much of my body as I could. I wasn’t about to stick my hand down my shorts and give things a good scrub with all the people around (although God knows I needed to) but getting everything wet helped with the smell at least.
I operated the pump for Maurice, although he didn’t have anything on under his onesie, so he had to go nude. The girls had tactfully disappeared into the shed, making it less embarrassing, but we still took great care not to make eye contact, or any other kind of contact.
Yes, we were those guys. The ones who can’t handle communal showers and can’t piss at a urinal if someone’s standing next to us. I realise it’s retarded, but we’d each had a couple of decades of feeling shit about ourselves, we weren’t going to undo all of it overnight.
Dudley was the tallest and had the most difficulty getting low enough to wash properly, but he did the best he could by splashing water over himself. We used the blankets as makeshift towels and patted ourselves dry.
Once dressed, and only slightly damp, we went into the shed where the girls were eating the fruit provided us for breakfast. While we ate, the girls went off to wash themselves, a tacit understanding between us that we wouldn’t enter the courtyard until they were done.
Grayson was at his desk doing more paperwork, so I couldn’t have a look behind the curtain unless I rushed past him and yanked it open. Which I totally could have done—it wasn’t like he’d kill me for it—but I couldn’t make myself do it. I just stood there, sweaty with indecision.
After we’d washed and eaten, we put all our gear in the sacks which now had straps on them so you could carry them like backpacks. One had the blankets in it, the other had metal dishes and the homemade torches. It had taken us ages to get everything ready, the sewing being particularly difficult and painful. Flossie had done most of it, but I had stitched together a very poorly constructed sap and my fingers still stung from the effort. You really had to force the needle through the leather.
I wasn’t too impressed with the results, the YouTube video I had seen made the simple weapon seem much more impressive. But then, all I’d done was stuff various bits of metal into a triangle of leather, sewn around the edges and sewn on a thin piece of leather as a strap. By looping the strap over your wrist and holding one end of the triangle, you could strike someone quite sharply while giving the impression you were just slapping them, which might work well as a surprise attack. But the metal needed to be heavier to have any real effect. Still, it would be more effective than a punch and less likely to break my knuckles.
All geared up and ready to face the day, we set off for our regular hunting ground. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something and that Grayson was giving us one last chance to figure it out. We had the rest of the day to think about it, but after that he’d be gone for good and we’d be on our own.
We headed for the wheatfields, practicing with our slings and talking about rabbit hunting strategies. No matter how uncertain I felt on the inside, I couldn’t show it. If the others lost confidence, in themselves or me, we wouldn’t stand a chance. So far things had gone alright, but it would only take one bad experience to wreck us.
I mentioned my thoughts on Grayson waiting for us to ask him something and the others agreed it seemed like that. But when I asked them if they could think of any questions there was the usual deafening silence.
“We’ve got the rest of the day to come up with something,” I said. “Try to think about it. We should try to get as much
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