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The rear cargo doors squeaked as they swung open. He felt the van bounce slightly as Marisa stepped up into the cargo bay. He listened carefully but heard nothing for several seconds. His heart was in his throat as he waited for the next sound. Would he even hear another sound or was he going to be shot right through the box and tossed into some ravine for the coyotes to eat.
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud "Crack" of the lid's locking bolt being thrown. Suddenly, the lid was open and he felt the rush of fresh air hit him. He felt a shiver go through him as suddenly he was cold, the blast of fresh air hitting his sweat soaked torso.
Although his eyes were still closed, he sensed light. He tried to open his eyes but his blink reflex would not allow it with pools of sweat still sitting in his eye sockets. He moaned through the ball gag, the sharp stabs in his left arm killing him as feeling in it continued to return. He shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes and started to turn to get himself face up.
"Just lay still John, listen carefully and obey immediately. You will be out of the box shortly. You know what to expect next. Follow the routine to the letter or there will be terrible punishment. Now, pull your knees back so I can get to your leg irons."
Marisa was all business as she unlocked and removed his leg irons, replacing them with thick, leather ankle cuffs separated by an eighteen inch chain. She grabbed him under the armpits and told him to sit up, helping his weak effort by leaning back, pulling him up with surprising strength. She quickly fitted a black rubber blindfold over his eyes, tightening it in back with straps through a buckle like swimming goggles.
"Okay John, now the fun part - getting you out of the box. You are going to lean your head and upper chest out of the box, get your feet under you as best you can, fall forward out of the box and roll over. I have a pad down on the floor of the cab and will help guide you out. Now, Move It!"
Judge Reynolds obeyed immediately, wanting like hell to get out of that coffin-like box just as quickly as he could before she changed her mind. He leaned over, scrambled to get his legs under him, thrust himself up and over the edge of the box and then ducked his head to absorb the force of the fall with his shoulder. As she had said, there was a thick pad on the floor to absorb most of the force. He was out and sprawled on the pad in a moment.
"Okay John, we are half way home. Now, to get yourself out of the van, lift yourself up off the pad while on your back, use your hands to lift yourself and crab walk yourself towards the exit with your feet. I'll guide you."
The Judge pushed down hard with his bound hands and managed to get his ass up off the pad. His left arm was still weak and tingling but he wanted out of the van so badly that he compensated sufficiently with his right hand to accomplish the task. Slowly, with short, crab-like steps, he moved towards the open rear doors. He collapsed a few times, but after each failure, got himself back up and went a little further. He managed to get his legs, up to mid calf, dangling out of the rear opening.
"C'mon you fat slug, inch yourself the rest of the way out or I'll have to take matters into my own hands," Marisa said.
The Judge took a few labored breaths and inched his legs out, balanced himself momentarily on the edge with his butt and then slid his feet to the ground, lifting his torso out and standing up on very shaky legs. He leaned heavily against the back of the van for balance and support as he tried to orient himself in the total darkness of his blindfolded eyes.
"Okay John, now use your feet to slip off your tennis shoes. You won't need them anymore."
He slipped one shoe off, nearly falling over even though he was leaning heavily on the van. He caught and righted himself before using his bare foot to slip the other one off. The ground was cool and damp under his feet. It felt like rough concrete or cinder blocks.
"John, I'm going to take your elbow and guide you. Follow along and remember you have a short chain between your ankles so take small steps."
Despite the warning, John almost fell over with the first step, his leg being unexpectedly stopped short by the chain. He stumbled but with Marisa's help, righted himself. He took short, shuffling little steps, almost hopping a bit to stay with Marisa. He felt the texture of the floor change from rough cinder block to something cool and smooth like polished stone or tile.
"Stop right here and turn around."
John obeyed instantly, making his half turn carefully with the small chain connecting his ankles. He felt Marisa grasp his wrists, pull them out a little and then undo the the clip holding the manacles to his mid section leather belt. She smoothly clipped them to something else behind him. He leaned back and felt a metal ring and then felt the smooth sides of the wall in which the ring was embedded. She must have also slipped off her shoes because he did not hear her recede, only realizing she had taken several steps away when he heard a metallic scrapping sound. Again, he did not hear her steps, jumping a little when he felt her touch on his arm.
"We're going to get rid of these trousers now and see what you've got."
Before he had a chance to respond to that news, he felt something cool and metallic slide along his left leg under the pant leg. He felt Marisa tug on the trouser leg, pulling it taut. He then heard the sound of shears cutting through the material all the way up to his waist band. In a moment, he felt the shears cutting through the material on his right pant leg. With the last snip, the trousers were snatched off him in one quick movement, leaving his pale, shaky body fully exposed.
He felt a chill as a breeze from an overhead cooling vent blew across his sweaty back and chest. He shivered slightly and suddenly his legs felt so weak and rubbery he thought he was going to faint. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
Marisa stepped around in front of him and raised the shears to his chest. She cut the air once with a slow, menacing audible stroke and then brought the tip of the closed shears to his sternum, making a small dent in the skin.