3 comments/ 10145 views/ 14 favorites The Big Brother Hole Ch. 01 By: Androgynousother This is my first normal 'boy meets girl' story, and it's a bit dark. It takes some time to get to the sex but please bear with me. ***** I still can't remember when it began... My last normal memory was a slow drive north to visit my old friend Steve who had invited me for a weekend shooting in the country. Both old army buddies (we went through basic training together), he was now an assistant head gamekeeper on our former Commanding Officer's country estate on the Scottish borders. I'd left as a Corporal after 9 years and joined the London Ambulance Service as a paramedic, while he'd stayed for 12 and left with the officer he'd became orderly and driver for, moving with his wife and young family to a large cottage on the edge of the vast country estate and baronetcy our Colonel had inherited from his father. I'd started chatting with Steve through our regiment's old comrades Facebook page and he saw pictures of me shooting - he invited me up at the end of the season. I later found out he was thinking of trying to reduce insurance payments and having a selection of trained medics he could have on site for free or at least 'payment in kind' via these hunting trips could only be a good thing for all concerned and I was to be the first. I had driven from my South London home, and heading north and 3.00pm saw me on the north circular and onto the M1 and north. In the boot of my car I had an overnight bag, a collection of various hunting clothes ranging from some original army camouflage left over from my previous life, an expensive 'Real Tree' camo jacket and trousers I'd borrowed from another shooting mate and of course my trusty sage green, waxed cotton Barbour coat. The reason, I only had a rough idea of what kind of shooting I would be getting up to. I was hoping to get in some grouse or pheasant shooting, perhaps some pigeon; I was desperately hoping I might get in some deer stalking but seeing as my mate's boss sold that kind of pleasure to guests at something like £3,000 for a weekend I figured that might be a bit of an outside chance. So I had come prepared for all sorts of shooting. This included two of my favourite shotguns, a reasonably new Winchester 1400 and my all-time favourite Beretta 'Silver Pigeon' - an 'over and under' shotgun and probably the industry standard of its kind. With them was 500 shotgun cartridges, 32gm 6's that the friend I'd borrowed the jacket from said would do for anything the size of a duck or smaller. At seven that evening and just shy of Pontefract I stopped for a meal, and half an hour later, full of fish and chips and with a relieved bladder I plugged my mobile phone into the charger and headed north courtesy of the in-built sat-nav and my good friend Steve and the warm welcome he'd promised. I got caught in a traffic jam where the M1 and the A1 joined around Wetherby and found myself at close to midnight sat in a small roadside café with a few others. The owner said that we could stay for while the road was cleared and refilled the coffee pot. The shop had no Wi-fi and I had no mobile number for Steve, so I wrote an email and set it so that as soon as it got a signal it would send. The owner refilled my coffee cup as the Police officer said the road would be clear in another twenty minutes. That is my last memory of that journey. I woke up strapped in my car seat, my head resting at a weird angle - on the door pillar in fact. I could hear the sound of running water and felt some chill in the air. As I came round my head with thumping and spinning somewhat, and the medic in me took over. My fuddled brain told me that I was in the car and must have had an accident. I forced myself to relax, the best thing the army taught soldiers was problem solving and part of that was first aid. The thing they taught us in combat first aid was that calm people live longer, even with a big hole in you or parts hanging off, stay calm and keep a cool head. I went into squaddie mode. I took a deep breath, and my chest expanded, and feeling no pain with that simple act I relaxed and started by flexing my fingers on both hands. Next I twisted my wrists, raised my elbows, shrugged my shoulders, no pain, so far so good. I wriggled my toes, lifted my feet as much as the pedals would let me, rolled my ankles and moved my knees and thighs all without pain. I started to pat myself down feeling for lumps, bumps, rips, blood stains and anything else that might indicate damage. Finally I felt across my scalp, nothing, no swellings or bumps or even so much as a graze. Another thought struck me and looked to my front, the airbag hadn't even deployed. What kind of accident had I been in! Now it was the big one, I lifted my head from its resting place and held it by muscle alone touching where my head should have bashed against the metal strut it had so recently been resting against. I touched it, expecting a smarting pain at the very least but nothing, I seemed to have survived unscathed so far so slowly I tipped my head forward and touched my chest with my chin, then let it back slowly until it touched the head rest. I leaned forward but was held in place by the inertia function of the seat belt, which must have held me since... since what ever happened to find me here. I decided that I was going to release the seat belt and see if I could get out of the car and find out where I was. That passed without drama, and I took the decision to get upright. This too was successful and I found that I couldn't stand up as the passenger door, now above my head, didn't want to open. I pulled the catch and put my shoulder to the door but nothing happened. Thinking like a driver I checked the ignition key and it was still in the on position. I flicked the central locking button and nothing happened. Perhaps the battery was flat or shorting out, my car was laid on its side after all. Nothing for it but to break some glass. I'd left the army as CMT, a combat medical technician and upgraded to a paramedic in London. I'd seen several cars that had rolled over and had seen the occasional fireman brace himself against the front seats and push the front window out, especially if the roof of the car had squashed a bit. This I tried and the front windscreen popped out and away from me. I slid out of the gap, and looked around me. I was in the country, that was for sure, and there was just enough of a woodland canopy for me to see in the half light. I looked at my watch, but it was obvious that the glass was broken as I couldn't make out anything. My mobile phone was back in the car and I hoped it had survived whatever had happened to find me in this situation. There was a definite chill in the air and I slid back into my car through the open front. I reached onto the back seat where I knew my Barbour to be and pulled it out and put it on. My cloth peaked cap and gloves were in the pocket and I put those on. I reached into the glove compartment for the torch I kept there, but as I opened the compartment I saw that the torch must somehow have switched on and the last fading of the batteries. What? It could only have been as the car had impacted or rolled or whatever had happened to it. It was a good quality LED torch that had been a birthday gift from a former girlfriend. The battery should have been good for five or six hours. I looked out into the slowly appearing woodland around me and guessed that it must be around five or six o'clock; I knew that I'd still been drinking coffee at midnight so... The general dopiness in my head had eased somewhat, but this still didn't make sense. I thought back to the jobs I'd worked with the Fire and Rescue services, and in what was left of the torch light and thought on why the car airbag hadn't deployed. I felt my face, no soreness that would indicate that my face had bashed into one of those lifesaving devices. What the fuck? I hadn't been drinking, OK I was tired and had planned on winding the seat back and having a power nap in the car but had gone and had a few coffees, but this? I switched off the torch to save what was left of the power and stuck it in the commodious pockets of my Barbour. I sat in the car and figured that undamaged the best thing would be to wait for the sun to come up and re-evaluate the situation. In the back I had a bag of stuff I'd bought that lunchtime - there was bread, cheese, wine and a bottle of the Taylor's late bottled Port that Steve and I used to throw back all those years ago. I found the bread and thought that I'd best not eat it, after all I didn't know how long I might be stuck here. So I got as comfortable as I could in a car with no windscreen, laying on its side, in the countryside somewhere between the Borders of Scotland and York. Being in squaddie mode had its advantages and as I sunk my face into my jacket I felt myself gently nod off. I came round to a gentle buzzing sound and daylight had arrived. I slid out of my hideaway and stood and surveyed where I was. My car was at the foot of a steep bank and it had evidently rolled or slid down. I looked up, the point I'd slid down from wasn't even visible, and the top of the bank had to be some forty or fifty feet above me. I moved slightly to my left and to my right and saw that the bank extended at that same height some hundreds of yards along in both directions. I sat on an adjacent fallen tree and pondered on my next step. There was absolute silence, and I mean absolute; nothing, there was the occasional chirp of wild birds but nothing else. That impressed me as well, as far as I could remember I had been on the A64, a significant North/South Road and hadn't driven more than three hundred yards from it to the café I was in. Whatever had happened I couldn't have been so far away from it that I wouldn't hear the hundreds of cars an minute that should have been thundering up and down it, even at... I looked at my watch. As I'd suspected that morning the glass was smashed. It was quite an expensive Seiko and as I remembered when I bought it, was actually quite rough and tough and if I scraped the glass off, the actual mechanics should still be fine. I took it off and picked at the glass and saw that central point and the hands were pushed back into the body of the watch. Shit! I looked at my wrist where it had come from, and there wasn't so much as a red mark to show the massive blow to it that it would have required to do that kind of damage. I headed back to my car and figured I'd better start getting myself located. I just knew that the mobile phone wouldn't be getting a signal but climbed in and looked for it anyway. My search revealed that the lead from the 12 volt charger thingy was out of the small gap in the driver window and under the car, and as I gently pulled it, it came free and I guessed that my phone was now under the car. It was also extremely well wedged between the bank and the trees it had fallen into. Excellent, just fucking excellent, this day was just going to get better and better. I clambered on to the side of my car holding on to the tree it was now leaning against. For something like twenty minutes I tried to climb the bank, climb the trees and succeeded in doing nothing but hurting my hands, knees and pride and getting covered in very loose soil that the banks of this gully seemed to be made of all the way along. "Hello!" I shouted at the top of my voice, "Hello!" nothing, not even an echo came back to find me. I thought about the stuff in the boot of my car, and the two guns and hundreds of cartridges came to mind. The boot was wedged shut of course but the passenger side 60/40 split seats came down so I could reach in and retrieve the stuff in there. It was a really tight squeeze but I managed to grab the top of a gun slip. I felt huge disappointment, the shape that came to hand led me to realise that what had previously been £1400 worth of the finest over and under shotguns that Europe could produce had either come unconnected in the middle or had broken. I managed to pull the thing free and I felt that the bloody thing must have broken. I unzipped the slip case and found that my lovely 'Silver Pigeon' had snapped clean across the middle. How the fuck? My car had slid down a bank and hardly had a dent on it, my watch was smashed with a blow that must surely have broken my wrist and I appeared to have rolled or dropped down a fifty foot bank without so much as a scratch or at least a bump on the head - the one part of my body not held in place and that would surely have flopped around causing me head injuries or at the very least some kind of whiplash. Yet a precision instrument, made of the highest quality machined steel was snapped across the middle as if they lugs had been cheap moulded plastic. I reached further in and found my overnight bag and pulled it into the car and its relative dryness. Then it was the turn of the various coats and I hung them in the car from whatever hanging points I could find. Finally I released the strap that held the rear floor covering in place and hid the spare tyre, tool kit and all that sort of thing. There wasn't enough room to get to my second gun safety locked in with my tool kit and spare tyre. I knew it was secure as there was a knack to opening the thing. I wasn't sure that I'd be able to get in there with the boot wedged shut against the tree anyway. Ah well, at least it was safe and well oiled. I retrieved the broken bits of gun and half a box of cartridges. The one thing I knew was that while an occasional rough camper might be ignored for weeks, someone loosing off a shotgun and poaching would have every land owner and game keeper within a mile here within minutes. I wedged the cartridges into a split log and using a key and a stone started to fire them off. They went with rather a muffled bang and I had to step back in fear that this shit might take some of my toes off. "Boom!" the report just seemed to bounce around the woodlands. I was so impressed I tried a second and a third, my ears ringing with the din. "No!" came a screaming female voice. I dropped to my knees and spun. There was a woman, dressed in muddy black clothes and looking like some kind of mad witch, "Please," she howled, "please!" She dropped to her knees, her shoulders heaving in silent sobs. I'd only had a cursory search that morning and was surprised I'd not seen her. "Hey," I said, moving across to her my arms raised, "it's OK Miss," I stepped closer, "my name is Harry Scholes, I think I'm stuck down here," I looked at her, "just like you are." "Stay..." she said picking up a large tree branch and swinging it towards me, "stay where you are." She looked terrible, and was obviously extremely traumatised by something; probably the amount of time she'd been down here. "Tell me your name," I said, "I won't hurt you, I promise." "Emma... Emma Rogers," she gasped out, taking a firm grip on her stick. I looked at her face and her hands, they were cut and bloodied. "Emma, back up there," I turned and pointed up the bank, "back up there I'm a paramedic; would you like me to look at those cuts and scratches you have there?" "No!" she snapped, "stay away from me." "OK," I took a deep breath, "how about I get my first aid box and you can sort them yourself? I'll stay over here out of the way." I'd worked with traumatised patients, suicide attempters and the like and I'd been very well trained in this kind of thing. I stepped back to my car and ducked into it and pulled out the large green bag that I'd kept in the boot ever since I graduated as a paramedic. I dragged it through the gap in the windscreen and heard her voice again. "Where have you gone?" she shouted waving the stick in front of her, "stand where I can see you!" The warble in her voice suggested tears. I could see from her panicked looking around and swinging of the stick that she was either blind or very short sighted. Christ, stuck in this hole and not being able to see, no wonder her hands and face were torn about. I stepped out of the car and stood with my arms outstretched with the big fluorescent green bag at my feet. "It's OK Emma," I said taking on my best ambulance voice, I stepped towards her and I could see that she was back looking at me if not actually in focus, "I'll kneel down here, please let me take a look at your hands, hang on to your stick if you want to, please?" I made sure that the fallen tree she was behind was still between us. I reached out and gently took her hand, she flinched. It was ripped to hell and covered in cuts, grazes and quite a few scars. I took out a pack of cleaning wipes that I would normally use on my hands or around wound sites. "Sit on that log there," I said and she felt down to the log and perched on one cheek, I did likewise but on the other side of the log. "This may sting a bit Emma, would you rather do it yourself?" She lifted her hands to within about six inches of her face and looked hard at them. "Here," I said, "here's the first one." She put her stick under her arm and started to scrub hard at her filthy hand with her other filthy hand. It was painful to watch! "Let me, please," I said and as gently as I could started to scrub at the grime that must have been there for weeks, or months? "So Emma," I said, as I took a small pair of tweezers and removed a large thorn, wiping over where it had come out of, "how long have you been here, I'm a bit of a new arrival myself." "I..." she stuttered, "I don't know," she gasped. "Well yesterday was Friday 17th September," I said, "does that make it easier." "Sept... September?" "Yep!" I said trying to add some fun to my voice. "But..." she pulled her hand away from me, "But I was on my way to my sister's house, it was my nephew's birthday, it was June... Nicko's birthday was... is June 24th..." "Christ," I said, "you've been here for almost three months?" "I..." she gasped out, "I must have been," she slid off of our fallen tree and cried out when she hit the floor. I reached for her and she flinched and pulled back, "Your hands Emma, just your hands. Sit back on the log, give me your hand again." I got back to my cleaning. She wouldn't let go of the stick and I guess I was as much about finding her way as it was about self-defence. I asked her if there was running water here, and she said that the stream ran through the gully and the water was very clean. She'd been drinking it for a few months at least. Within twenty minutes her hands were wiped clean and swathed in clean dressings and covered with surgical gloves. "That's the first time I've had warm hands in weeks, thank you Harry." "You're most welcome," I said, "Right, let's have a look at that pretty face of yours." Taking my bag of dressings, I sat astride the log to sit right in front of her, hands on hips and stared into her face. She smiled, and squinted moving her head forward slightly. "That's better," she said with a grin, "Now I can see your face; Hello Harry!" She beamed. The magnitude of what she must have suffered down here in almost eleven weeks came home. I was probably the first friendly face she'd seen in all that time. How she'd managed to survive was still a mystery. "Hi Emma!" I wiped the mud and dust from her face applying plasters to some of the fresh cuts that hadn't scabbed over. I didn't have a comb and apologised. "I'll have to change the dressings tomorrow, unless we can get out before then of course." "There's no way out," she said her head dropped, "I've been trying to get out every day since I've been here. It's the same soft mud bank all the way around, I've tried to dig my way out but the earth is too high and too soft, I've almost been buried a few times." "I notice that you're short sighted," I said, "did you have contacts when you... err arrived?" The Big Brother Hole Ch. 01 "No," she said trying to focus on me, "I mean I have - at home - but it was a glasses day when I..." She took a deep breath, "I had glasses but the other man that was here took them from me, and I haven't been able to find him or my glasses since." "There's another man here?" I said. "There was," she said looking nervous, "He arrived a few weeks after I did. At first he was OK, then he started to get angrier as he realised he was stuck in here. One night he attacked me and I fought him off, that's why I carry this stick with me." "I'm so sorry," I said, "did he..." "No, he tried to and I kicked and fought and screamed. He punched me and knocked my glasses off; he picked them up and ran away with them. The next few days he would shout at me from the woods, and taunt me that he had my glasses and how bad my eyesight must have been. It was like something out of 'The Lord of the Flies' - he even called me 'piggy'. I'll confess that I wasn't exactly a fashion model when I fell in here, but on my diet I've lost a fair bit of weight." "What have you eaten since you've been here?" I asked in surprise. "Fish from the stream," she said, "the hill down that way," she pointed over her shoulder, "is alive with rabbits. Sean, the other bloke, set up a load of snares and built some fish traps. I check them every couple of days and more often than not I find something in them. I keep the fire going and manage to find some wild greens and mushrooms. Sean showed me what to eat and what not to eat. It's just a shame that a week later he punched me in the face and tried to rape me." "How long has he been gone?" "I don't know, I thought that banging noise you made earlier on was him, trying to torture me." "No, definitely me. It was shotgun cartridges, I was going shooting up in the borders with an old mate. I'm kind of hoping he's going to raise the alarm when I don't turn up. I was expected at midnight last night." "I was expected at my sister's house three months ago, I'd like to think she might have raised the alarm." "Where is your sister's house?" I asked. "Oh just up the road a bit from here," she said, "Sweet little village just outside Richmond." "Richmond?" I said, "Richmond was a good forty miles north of where I was." "I was driving in from the Leyburn end," she said with a panic in her voice, "North of Richmond even." She put her bandaged hand onto mine, "Harry, I'm scared now, just where are we?" "I don't know Emma," I said, "This is just too bloody weird. Either I'm forty miles adrift or you are." I stood, "I'll tell you what," I said standing up, "I have some excellent bread and some great cheese in my car that will either go stale, rot away or get attacked by rabbits, let's have a feast while we can." "Harry," she said, "keep talking to me so I know where you are." "OK Emma, no problem." By now I was quite good at getting in and out of the car and returned quite quickly. The bread was still the right side of fresh, and the various cheeses I knew would be paradise to Emma's pallet that, according to her, had tasted nothing but under-cooked rabbit, trout and wild greens in three months. I came back to where she was sat and put the carrier bag onto her lap. "Ooh!" she said and lifted it to her face before she reached into the bag, lifting out the bread and holding it to her nose. "Oh Harry," she said, "You've no idea how wonderful it is to smell fresh bread again." Next she lifted up the various packets of cheese and held them up to the light and close to her face so she could not only smell them but actually see them. "Help yourself," I said, and smiled as she ripped a big lump out of the bread, I could see she was struggling with the cheese, so set to tearing that open for her. It was just a large piece of Red Leicester but I guessed it would be Manna from heaven for my new friend. It was, and not before or since have I seen someone eat with such delight. "So how did you end up in here Emma, I came round in my car first thing, not a mark on me or the car, you?" "Can't remember," she said munching on the bread and cheese. "I remember leaving the vicarage stopping at the petrol station and then waking up down here with just my handbag." "What about Sean?" I said, intrigued at what might have happened to the other incumbent of this hole in the ground. "Same thing, he woke up in the stream with his motorbike underneath him. It would have been over there." I picked up the cheeses and broke a piece off of the Red Leicester and walked across to the stream, nibbling it. There was indeed a small Honda motorbike that showed signs of being the worse for being dropped and left to lie in mud for a few months. "I found it!" I shouted, conscious that she might not realise where I was. I began to ponder on what might have happened to its rider. Looking where it had been thrown against the tree, no way could he have survived dropping down so far. Whatever had happened to me at least I had the benefit of being cushioned in my seat with my seat belt. He would have cracked his spine or broken his legs at the least. And how the fuck had he got out? The pretty girl had been down here for three months and my brief inspection had confirmed what she'd found in her short-sighted stumbling. Had he made good his escape and left the young woman he'd tried to rape to starve to death and so hide his crime? Surely not. Once Emma had eaten her fill, I repacked the bag and gave her one of the six cans of Coke I'd bought for the journey. The sun was climbing high into the sky and towards noon, and I figured I wouldn't have more light to see what was going on than right now. She sipped the Coke luxuriously and after a few moments handed it to me, "Let's ration it Harry, just in case." I took the can and took a long draw on it, and handing it back. "Can you show me around?" "Of course," she said, "there should be a camp site around here with my handbag, and my jacket. I've got a hairbrush and a tooth brush in it. Once I lost my glasses I couldn't find it again. I think I'm sleeping in one that Sean created, it's like a little tent made of trees and branches. It lets the rain in quite often." "Let's have a look then," I took her hand and I started to follow the line of the dirt wall that imprisoned us. I noticed that along with her stick Emma had to use her other hand to hold up her black trousers which must have loosened up as she lost the weight she spoke of. After a few minutes I found the stream that Emma said ran through 'the hole'. It about two feet deep and was about the same across, flowing fast enough to be fresh. It formed a kidney shaped pool at one end and I guessed this was where it terminated. Again, it looked fresh enough. There was a log thrown across it at the narrowest part and talking her across, we made our way over with dry feet. I guessed this was probably the only time she'd ever been over. We found the same wall of crumbly soil that went straight up twenty, thirty at some points even forty feet. Still in squaddie mode I found that I was starting to read the ground and count my paces, so we could get back again. We found what must have been Sean's initial camp. There was his crash helmet and a motorcycle jacket. Strung across a couple of trees was what must have been his bike cover formed into a small tent. There was also a leather jacket and some clothing, all slightly damp from the floor. I picked up the jacket and stuck a branch through the arms to help the thing dry out. I found that all of my senses were perking up, and I smelled the first sign of trouble before I saw it. Dead flesh has a smell that is like no other. "Wait here Emma," I said, "I think I know what happened to Sean." I sat Emma on the dry ground under the bike cover tent and kept on calling to her as I followed my nose. It was like something out of a comedy scene, about twenty yards away I could see a pair of legs sticking out of the bank. Black baseball boots, thin white shins and the bottoms of the jeans he must have been wearing. Nothing else, he must have tried to dig his way out only for the earthy to fall onto him and bury him, suffocating him under tonnes of soft dark loam. I tried to pull him out but it was hopeless. Emma hadn't seen him in a few weeks possibly even months, there wasn't much chance of him being alive that was for sure. I dug around and I found his right hand and his watch strap. I dragged at it in the vain hope it might still work and give me a clue about the date and time. With soil pouring around me, I finally got his watch free, rather a skinny girly looking one actually, only to find that the damage to his was almost the same as mine. The damage on his looked as if someone had smashed a hammer into it, and it was even more pronounced than the damage on mine. I decided that I would leave Sean where he was. I tried to think if he would affect the water supply, but figured there was nothing I could do about it short of digging him out and wrapping him in his motorbike cover that would make probably the best shelter we'd find here. I took off Sean's shoes. There was no way they'd fit me, but I guessed that they be only slightly too big for Emma. They were reasonably new and only smelled the tiniest amount and I hoped that airing them would remove that smell of dead man's feet from them. I walked back to the site and found that Emma was asleep shaded by the tent but was still enough in the sun to warm her. I figured she hadn't slept that well recently, but woke her none the less. "Sorry Em," I said, "Was Sean wearing blue jeans and these 'Converse' trainers?" She moved them close to her face. "Could have been," she said, "I don't remember that much about him after my glasses went". "Sorry mate, he was obviously digging his way out and his workings collapsed on him. I don't think he'll be bothering you again." "Oh," she said, staring at where the trainers had been, "I don't suppose you found my glasses did you?" "Still looking," I said, "You go back to sleep, I'm only a few yards away." She lay back down using the same pile of soil as a pillow that Sean obviously had. Shitty Damn, this did not look good. Time I got even deeper into squaddie mode... As a medic I was always in the Headquarters Company of my battalion. Our company commander was a long term regular officer who had been around. He'd been to airborne school and the commando course and was destined for higher things. Unfortunately, he had a bit of a nasty habit of getting outrageously pissed and would then either insult or sleep with other officers wives. It was the end of any 'higher things' he may have been destined for. But he loved his job, he loved his boys and he looked after us well. He still had his reputation for working hard and playing harder, hence he was dubbed 'The mad major', but was relegated to seeing out his remaining service with 'his lot'. The odds and sods in Headquarters Company. HQ Company was made up of us medics, the storemen, the tailors, the cooks, the clerks, the motor transport section and all the other non-rifle company types that are needed to make a fighting infantry battalion operate on a day to day basis. Whenever we went on exercise, us medics would find ourselves setting up a field dressing station or out with platoons or patrols, while the rest would guard company HQ and bitch about the change in our usually sedate lifestyle. But our Major was made of sterner stuff and pretty soon HQ Company where doing lots of training and finding out about proper war fighting. We did section attacks, battle drills, fire and manoeuvre and finally escape and evasion. This was where we learned to read the terrain, how to find cover and shelter and how to live off of the land. All of this training led to us being taken to the wilds of Salisbury Plain and being told we had to be at a certain point, a disused village, for pick up in four days' time. We had made our own survival tins. The Americans all talk of 'Altoid tins', but we were British grunts and the best we could do was of course 'Golden Virginia' or 'Old Holborn' hand rolling tobacco and we duly created our tiny survival tins. Mine held all kinds of wonderful things, a tiny knife, a brass button compass, string, a Firestarter, tinfoil, a condom (to collect water!) and other myriad useful items I just wished I'd stuck it in my car rather than leave it with all the other crap I had left over from army days. We all survived our four days of course, and I hoped I could bring all that thought process back to life. Right now, I had to find everything I could to make the process of surviving and escape a reality. Now I was thinking along those lines; shelter, fire, water, food and some way of letting the world know we were stuck here. I thought on where my survival tin was now. It was in a small rucksack back in my flat, still with the black tape wrapped around it. I carried on walking, grabbing piles of dried sticks and creating several stock piles, eventually after about five minutes of walking I found a couple more camp sites. In the first was another crappy A-frame that was falling to bits. As I looked inside I found the detachable pannier box from the motorbike and hoped in vain in might be metal and I could bake in it - GRP - shit. This must have been Sean's most recent camp and the one he'd tortured Emma from. I searched everywhere for Emma's glasses but to no avail. Shit. In the next camp I found another good quality A-frame this time, the kind of thing that our mad major had taught us to make all those years ago. I stood there and thought about the situation and figured that the camp that Emma was currently in was still the most promising. It was higher than all the others should the stream flood, the tree coverage from rain plus giving us a space we could warm up via sunlight. If I could find some matches or a lighter, I could start a fire without all of that tedious buggering around with sticks. Nothing. I went back to the camp where Emma was lying, sleeping in the rays of the tiny bit of sunshine. I started to carry the dry sticks back and make them into a couple of piles. The previous night I'd sat in my car but it was cold and damp, I guessed that a fire wouldn't make it any worse. By the time I'd finished I had two large firewood piles that, rationed, would make for a few warm nights. I carried on my rationalisation. A while later and quite refreshed, Emma woke up and I had her guide me back to her camp site and show me where the snares were and the fish traps. It was amazing. Using just her stick she guided me back to where she had lived for some weeks previously. There was a smoking fire and again, using just her stick and what must have been her heightened senses she walked towards it and grabbed a handful of firewood from the ground that she threw on the smoking heap and blew on it with gusto. Eventually it came back to life. "Bloody hell Em," I said impressed, "That was brilliant." "Done it lots of times," she said, "brought it back from worse than that." "How long has it been going?" "I've kept it alive for... well ever since Sean disappeared with my glasses." She sat up, "It's life or death Harry," she said. "Raw fish tastes bloody awful, I don't want to think about raw rabbit." She turned to look at me. "Tea," she sighed. "A hot drink, something warm and not with anything else in it." Like with my survival tin at home, I thought on the 'brew kit' I'd always carried as a young soldier boy. It contained everything, tea bags, little packs of coffee and sugar and milk powder, and I thought about the contempt with which I chucked it in and out of by belt order webbing. I thought of everything else it carried. It held a water bottle, a mug, mess tins and a stove. Here I had nothing I could heat water in, let alone make Emma the hot drink she'd been pining for. "I think we should move around to the camp site with the tent Emma," I said, "I'll see if I can carry enough of these burning branches to start another fire, you stay here and keep warm." I was starting to work out distances now, and I figured the two camp sites were probably 60 metres apart. The first flaming brand went out before I reached the other fire, but on my return trip found a large branch that should catch and stay alight. I stopped by my car and found the wipes I'd used to clean Emma's hands and face and they had dried a bit, and wrapped them around the branch also. Along with the plastic wraps and bits of cloth they caught brilliantly and I was able to get the second fire burning within a matter of minutes and walked Emma to it. Passing the car again, I thought about re-using waste and my empty Coke can almost leapt into view. TWAT! Nothing to heat water in? fucking idiot. I rinsed it, filled it with water, and placed it gingerly into the embers of the first fire and let it burn - I thought that it might contain a lining of some description. Couple of test runs just to see. I poured across that camp and found a black cardigan, and discovered what must have been Emma or Sean's waste pit. There was a faint smell of faeces and I guessed that on the rare occasions she passed anything it would be so small and natural for the smell to be quite minimal. It was well made, with a log to sit on and I guessed that Sean must have created it. It was far enough away from the stream and our new camp site so I figured I'd leave it there. I also found a small pile of rabbit and fish bones and the skins of both. Now I have eaten wild rabbit a few times, nice lean grey brown wild ones, and I had never found a wild rabbit with black and white fur. Unless this was a descendent of a tame rabbit that had escaped, then this was definitely odd. Emma had told me that she had two 'Y' shaped sticks and a long thicker one she used for cooking, so I brought those as well. My time had been well used, using my leather-gloved hand I lifted the now hot water in the can and carried it across to our new camp. "Put this glove on Em," I said, and she pulled it over her bandaged hand looking quizzical. "Now, take this - carefully!" I said, "It's not tea, but it is hot water at least." She beamed at me, "Coke can?" "Yep," I said, "it's not quite boiling but it should be hot enough to warm you up." She messed around with the tin, blowing at it and staring at the hole to drink it from, before she took a gentle sip. She purred, and smiled across at me. "Bread and cheese, hot water and warm hands, this is rapidly turning into the best day ever!" "I'm not sure it's that," I said, "but I'm glad I could help." "OK," she looked sidelong at me, "best day in a long time," she sighed, "Thank you Harry." After a long afternoon of work and replenishing the wood pile, I built the fire and messed around with our tarp sheet and made a bit of a raised platform using the branches from the other two A-frames I guessed Sean had made and lay the spare jackets on them, keeping the others and the two blankets from my car made a bed. I gave her the black cardigan I'd found and she put it on. Next I gave her the thick hunting jacket for when it got really cold. In my medic bag I had scissors, large tough ones designed to cut through clothing, underwired bras and at a push bone. I cut around the top of the can and wearing my gloves I rolled the sharp top over and bashed it flat with a small stone I'd found so we wouldn't cut our mouths on it. As the light fell, I brought the last of my bread, cheese, port, wine, Cokes, even the tin of travel sweets I kept in the car and placed them in the motorbike box for safe keeping. I put the scissors back in my kit. I refilled the can and warmed it in the embers a second time and it worked perfectly, with no cut lips. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 01 I tried desperately to remember what teas I could make with what greenery there was lying around, and I figured tomorrow I'd have a good look around. As we both started to nod I said that we should build the fire and lay down as the sun was starting to go down. I put my Barbour back on, and she put on the large thick hunting jacket and pulled up the hood. I followed Emma back to our woodland bathroom and we both did what we needed to - I was of course a gentleman and stood with my back to Emma, and once done I threw a handful of the loose soil from the bank down on top. On our return journey to the faint glow of our fire, I took Emma's hand. We lay on our softish mattress and pulled the coats and the blankets over us. "Emma, I say this in all innocence but shared body heat is a real bonus in these situations," I lay back, "if you don't want to get close, I'll quite understand though." "Don't worry Harry," she said, "after today I think I can trust you." "Come here then," I said, and pulled her to me in a spoons position, wrapping the blankets around us. "Good night Harry," she whispered, "and thank you." I still can't believe how quickly and easily we fell asleep. I woke during the night reaching over to throw a few more sticks onto the fire and seeing it perk up. In rolling back, my hand rolled over her full breast. It was nice, and just how I'd often slept with previous girlfriends. When I awoke the next morning, it was to find I had both hands on both of her breasts. I carefully slid one down around her waist, and lifted the other to her shoulder. She sighed and pushed back against me. The next day was of course Sunday, and Emma smiled. "I would normally be up and about and getting ready for a day's work." She said. "Really?" I said intrigued and sliding the can back into the embers for our drink. "Yes," she said fingering her collar and exposing for the first time a small cross and chain at her neck, "believe it or not, back up there?" she pointed over her shoulder, "I'm a vicar." "A vicar?" I said, "how amazingly cool of you!" "Nothing to do with the Dawn French or Dibley," she said. "Didn't think it was for a second," I said, "plus it also explains the black clothing," I said. "Yeah, people normally think I'm either a Vicar or a waitress, one of the two." She sipped more hot water, "Although I'm rather afraid I've lost some of my faith being down here." She pulled the blanket around her shoulder, "I can't think why God would have reason to dump me down here for three months; I know that Jesus went off into the wilderness, but he had a better line to the boss than me I expect. I thought I'd finally gone mad when I heard you shouting and then your gun shots." "They lord works in mysterious ways Em," I said. "Well if he could work his way clear to getting us out of here within the next half hour, I'll confess myself born again, and will swear off of late nights and bad living for the foreseeable future, really I will." "As a vicar you can't have had that many late nights and bad living, not in your part of the Dales at least." I'd spent some weeks in Catterick training camp and other than Catterick camp there wasn't that much opportunity for bad living. "We try!" she giggled, "And yes it normally is the army!" "Is there a Mr Emma waiting at home for you Em?" I said trying to add a hint of wistfulness. "Not really," she said, "There's an old friend from University that I meet for dinner every now and again, and I often hoped it might develop into something but I think his one true love is the church so..." she stopped talking and looked at me, "You?" "Nope." I said, "There's been a few close runs but never the one, if you know what I mean. My time will come I'm sure." "And you're a paramedic?" "I prefer Hi-speed, life-saving hero please," I said, "I was featured in the Sun one day, and I kind of like the title," I grinned, "But yes, my contract of employment does say paramedic." "Exciting?" "Has its moments, there is lots of dashing around, and some hairy drives. Too many pissed people that want to fight anything that moves, even the ambulance driver that is trying to stop them bleeding, or put their dislocated joints back together. I've brought more back from the dead than I've lost, which is still good. The lost are starting to creep up though, and statistically it isn't going to be that high a score within a few years." "Do you enjoy it still?" "Yes," I said, "I suppose it's a bit like your job, saving lost souls, helping really." she smiled at me, "from the first one, the first one with no vitals, no breathing, no heartbeat; then the beeping starts off again and you bring them back from the dead - no feeling like it. And it's addictive, you just want to save all of them but can't always do it." "That's the difference," she said, "with my lost souls, it generally isn't quite so serious." "Yeah," I picked up the can with my glove and tried sipping hot water, "but you're talking eternal soul here, I'm just about this sad mortal coil and not letting people slip out of it." "Yeah, well in the greater scheme of things I'm sure people need you to do your job so they can let me do mine." I handed the can across to her, happy that it was now cool enough and she sipped, smiling gratefully. "Harry, I don't suppose you have any soap or shampoo in your car do you?" "Yes," I said with a grin, "I actually do, only shower gel and a bar of soap; it's going to take a month or two to boil up enough water for a bath for you mind you." "I've bathed in cool water for two months," she said, "My head and body has gone through itchy and now settles at something along the permanent tickle that I got used to." She looked serious, "I normally strip off and clamber down in to that pool because it's at the end of the stream." She looked up at me with a slight wobble to her bottom lip. "My spider senses tell me that the sun will come up this afternoon and it might just be warm enough for me to bathe in that cold spring water, could I please have some of your gel and wash this filthy body of mine?" "Of course," I said, "I have a towel you can use." I stood and walked across to my car, reaching in and getting my bag, and pulling out the shower gel and the big dark green towel that was still new enough to be soft. I handed it across. "Go easy with the shower gel," I said, "the bottle was only three quarters full, it may have to last us yet." "Thanks Harry," she beamed at me, and for I had my first glimpse of a real smile peeking out from all the grime. She stood up, shedding the blanket for a moment. "I'll go for a walk Emma," I said, "At least you know I won't be going too far." The smiled that girly smile again, and hugged the towel to herself in excitement. I stepped off away from my car and back in the direction of the lately departed Sean. I passed his now stockinged feet sticking out and thought about pulling him further out and checking his pockets for Emma's glasses. Not quite yet, I thought to myself. I walked for a few minutes and found the other end of the stream and guessed I had reached the other end of our tiny world - I figured 70 metres by 70 metres, and roughly square - So much so I paced it out. Across the stream I could see another camp site, the one I'd nicked much of the A-frame shelter from yesterday, and I could just make out hanging from a tree a large bag, with just the wrong shine to it and just a little too square and the wrong side of that tree for me to have seen yesterday. The flowing water was quite narrow at this point, but too wide for someone with only about ten inches of vision to clear. I found a large log and dropped it into the water and it settled nicely without blocking the flow of the water. I put one foot on it and it settled into the mud protruding enough for me to put my weight on it. Swinging my other foot across I cleared the stream and there hanging on a tree branch was a brown leather handbag and I took it with a grin. Even though my mother raised me to be a gentleman I still checked through the bag, hoping her glasses might be there. There was a case for them, there was a few bottles of makeup and perfumes, a couple of pads and tampons, a pen but nothing to write on. All things that Emma would undoubtedly be pleased to see bearing in mind what she was doing. And there was a toothbrush in a plastic holder, a small tube of toothpaste, and the thing she want most of all, a large hairbrush. There was a folded pair of lace panties, peach coloured and not the kind of thing I'd expect a priest to wear at all! Again, I guessed that she'd be really pleased to have them. I found a black Gortex jacket which must have been hers on the next branch. My search failed to find her glasses, so I continued my circular route back to the pond she was bathing in. As I walked I checked out the bank intermittently and still searched for spectacles. The leaf fall was at yet minimal I desperately hoped I'd find them before the autumn hit and whatever chance I had of finding them was lost forever. After twenty minutes I saw the glint of sunlight hitting my headlamps and knew that Emma would only be ten or twenty metres away, washing in the stream. I stepped closer watching where I put my feet. I didn't want to scare her, and I can now confess I actually wanted to see her naked. OK, she was a priest, a virtually blind priest but other the rather earthy smell about her, she was quite eye catching. My last non-medical naked female had been Kim, my last girlfriend. She was an army nurse on an attachment to our accident and emergency department and once she found out I was an ex-soldier we became mates. We got extremely pissed one evening after one of her shift parties and I offered her my sofa seeing as we had been giving it squaddie talk all evening. We had coffee, finished our chicken kebabs and being a gentleman and slightly pissed I offered her the bed while I slept on the couch. She combatted that by suggesting that if the bed was a double, why not share? Why not? It was an extremely pleasant night's sleep. Sometimes there is just no substitute for another warm human lying next to you and those night time sounds; a soft sigh, mumbled words, regular calm breathing just to let you know that you aren't alone. When we woke up the next morning wreaking of kebab and slightly hung over, I was in my boxers and she was in high cut panties and a stretchy vest top over her large and shapely bra-less boobs. She rolled over to face me, "Are we going to fuck or what?" she said grabbing hold of my genitalia. She hung out at my place for the last three months of her attachment, and then headed off for a posting with the Army in Cyprus, we ended as mates, no hissy-fits, no tempers, no pack drill. Kim was the last naked woman I'd seen without having to apply defibrillator paddles to her - until now. Emma in her black trousers and black top just looked shapeless because they now hung from her, but I just fancied the chance to catch a peak. So long as I kept in the shadows and kept quiet I'd be safe. I moved forward slowly and thought how good it was many of the branches that had strewn the woods were now piled up in two piles. I sat on yet another fallen tree and watched; it was like another movie moment, from just the line of her naked back bent forward, she stood straight up flinging her wet hair and a stream of water back and behind her like something out of a shampoo commercial. Her breasts looked good despite her poor diet, and that any fat she may have had on her was gradually being used up by her body. That had no effect on her nipples mind you and they stuck out from her proudly. She had said that when she came down here she was overweight. That was far from the case now, she was thin but had definite curves and a great arse and I guessed that with a healthy diet she must have been one hell of a looker. She blew water drops from the end of her nose and laughed shaking her head to remove more drips and wiped the remaining water off with her hands. She looked happy, and she turned her back to me to appreciate the sun on her naked body, and I felt the worst kind of intruder and while her back was turned I slowly and quietly stepped back and faded into the woods. As I did I thought I heard a faint whirr, I was no country boy or bird spotter so thought nothing of it. I walked back the way I'd come happy that I'd would have given her a good forty five minutes in her cool bath. By the time I reached the log I'd thrown in I was quietly contemplative and if I hadn't been walking with my head down wouldn't have noticed the thing that stirred my concerns that all wasn't well in our strange hole. The end of the log I'd thrown in to bridge the stream was protruding from the water and was starting to dry and I noticed that it had a few ridges, the bottom half of the edge was broken like the rest, but this bit was sawn. I carried on walking, and thinking. OK, I thought to myself, my car had slipped down this bank somehow. I knew enough about the medical aspects of car accidents and the injuries they resulted in to know that I hadn't been in one, yet still my car was on its side. Emma had no idea how she had even arrived in this hole. I looked up at the banks and thought how little wildlife was around and how silent the place was. Perhaps that was just mine and Emma's presence here, but no birds? Surely not; and wild black and white rabbits? THAT was fucking ridiculous. I saw our camp and the haze from the fire I'd banked up before I left. "Emma!" I called out, "Are you descent?" "Descent enough," she called. I walked forward and saw that she was standing by the pool with the towel wrapped around her. She turned to where the sound of my crunching step was coming from. The towel just wasn't long enough, and there was just the faintest hint of dark fur at the apex of her thighs, and following her washing of her hair, I could see that she was a red head, and the blotches across her face were actually freckles. "Is that better?" I said smiling at this beautiful woman that was before my eyes. "Like you'd never believe Harry," she said with the faintest shiver, "I hope you don't mind but I took the tiniest blob of soap and washed my clothes." They were rung out and hanging across branches around the tree. She squinted staring at the dark outline of her handbag I held at my side, "is that..." "Oh yeah," I said and handed her bag across, and she squealed with delight, her towel falling and giving me a closer view of her boobs and a quick flash of the red fur that had just been hinted at. She giggled and pulled it closed again, "Sorry Harry," she wrinkled her nose in devilment. "Hang on Em," I said and slipped my Barbour off and stepped behind her, checking out her bottom as I did but quickly putting my still warm jacket around her. She pulled it closed across herself and purred. "Hmm," she snuggled the thing closed around her and rubbed her cheek to the corduroy collar. "Check the handbag," I handed it to her over her shoulder and she stared at it close to her face as she had me the previous afternoon. Such was her delight she let the coat fall open and I looked over her shoulder at a sweet view. "Aww clean knickers!" she cried and picked them out, handing me the bag. She leant forward, and stepped into them, taking advantage of my long jacket to hide her bottom. She straightened up and turned to smile at me, my coat covering everything that needed covering. To my surprise she put a hand to both sides of my face and kissed me on the lips. She picked her bag back from my hands and resumed her close inspection. Toothbrush!" she growled and I handed her the tube of paste. She ran back to the stream and almost fell in trying to rinse her brush. She cleaned her teeth, wiping a little excess foam from her mouth. I rinsed her toothbrush for her to save her and my Barbour ending up in the stream. On my return I saw that she'd recommenced her search of her handbag, "Perfume and deodorant, where were you when I was a month shy of a shower." She closed her eyes, turned her back to me and sprayed herself, and my jacket with both. Then her hand hit something, "Hairbrush!" she cried out, and plucked it from the bag and began to pull it through her tangled dark, still wet hair. She sat on our green bower and brushed her flame red hair in delight. "Here," I said, turning to sit astride the log and indicating she should, "give me the brush." I've never found a female of any age that doesn't like having her hair brushed. She purred again and a several points lay back against me. On my walk I had disturbed some mint and some lemon balm, we had mint tea that morning with the last of our two day old bread toasted with some cheese. Her clothes dried out that afternoon and she put them back on, giving me back my Barbour. With benefit of more daylight I took to re-arranging the plastic sheet that had provided our bedroom last night. While it would have kept the rain off, it did little to stop the draught blowing around our heads. I built the bed base up some more with the last of Sean's other A-frame and ran the plastic sheet across both sides. It would be much dryer and warmer. I moved our supplies in, including my large medical bag which held the end of the sheet down quite nicely. This afternoon I checked the fish traps and found two small trout. I took them out, and using the sharp flint that had been in the late Sean's camp, I did the best I could remember in skinning and gutting a fish something I'd learned with my Grandpa first then with the army. Emma looked on staring desperately at where I was, "Is this what you did?" I said. "I think so," she said staring intently at my hands, "Sean told me what to do, but once he pinched my glasses I couldn't tell," She looked down, "I did end up with a lot of blood and stuff on my hands. Some of it was mine, sometimes." "Well I think I've kind of got it," I had pulled out the spine and cut of the heads then plucked out the bones with the cleanest pointy stick I could find. I lay them across some green sticks and grilled them over our fire. I made more mint tea, and wished for some more bread. I had only been out of civilisation for a few days and had already realised the things that made life interesting. Tea; just bog standard ordinary tea bags. I quite liked Earl Grey but right now would have given my car for a box of ordinary Tetley tea bags. The fish, once cooked was actually quite delicious but just needed something else to bulk it up with, like a fucking great bag of chips. The night had started to close in and we made more mint tea, sharing the tin mug between us. On my walk I'd found mint, camomile, and pine needles, and I was gutted it was too late for elderflower. There were some nettles and I figured we'd try some of that later. Our mad major had taught us about all of these various teas and how they would help cure colds, flu and upset stomach. We sat close to the fire and I moved closer to her, eventually putting my arm around her. As we both started to nod I suggested we turn in for our second night. We pulled together laying our heavy coats over us as impromptu duvets then laid the blankets over top of that. With the removal of the open sides of the tarp we were much warmer and we slept longer and better. The following morning I woke and she was in my arms, her face pushed into my neck. She stretched and purred, rubbing her face against me. I pulled her tighter into me, and she made more contented noises. I raised the side of our tent and threw more wood onto our fire. Slowly I felt her wake up, and she pulled back slightly and beamed a smile at me. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 02 A cup of mint tea did nothing to lift my mood. I was trying really hard to get things into context, and having found one girl that killed herself down here and another that had come close I had to stay in control of me, if not the shitty situation I was in; no, the shitty situation that WE were in. 'Problem solve you fuckhead,' I snarled at myself as I walked around our earth prison. I went to my car and pulled branches from around it and some of those that had broken when it had been lowered or dropped. Inside the car I looked for anything else that I could use. I thought about whether the car would be a warmer shelter than the tent, and looked to see if I could push the windscreen back in, and I figured I could, at least enough to block a draft. As I looked around for anything else that might make our life more practical, there was the rear view mirror and I just popped it off and stashed it in with the wood. I took it back and dumped it close enough to the tent for me to grab it. That tiny act of rebellion to whoever was running this helped to focus my mind; "What I have here," I thought, 'use what you have here,' and my mind went to that large green bag at the back of the tent. How do you knock out someone for long enough to drop them down a hold in their car? Even more so, how do you knock out someone there already so they don't hear it? With me dropping the wood, Emma woke and popped her head out from under the tent flap smiling. "Hey Harry," she grinned, her breasts cleavaged and looking hot by her folded arms she rested on, "Aww you've covered up, that's not fair." "You don't want fucking again surely?" "I could be convinced," she said biting her bottom lip, "you are bloody good at it." "I think you should go easy for today," I said, "you had some pretty intense treatment down there, I think we'll give you a few hours off." "OK," she said, "I must confess I do feel a bit road worn down there. Tea?" "Yes please," I said. The sun dropped and the hole was thrown into the shade so I put on my T-shirt and trousers. So did Emma. We drank our tea and I guessed it was about two in the afternoon. I slid into the tent next to her and took her in my arms, "Let's have a bit of a nap Em," I said. "When we wake up I'll check the snares and the fish traps." We'd performed for them and by my guessing they owed us. "Oh damn, do I have to sleep with you again?" I nodded. "OK, you've convinced me." Pulling the flap down on the tent. I reached a hand into my paramedic bag and felt for what I knew to be there. Time passed; I fought off the feeling of sleep that threatened to creep over me. Then I smelled something funny. Feeling even sleepier I erred with caution and pulled the oxygen mask out of my bag, flicked the knob and put it over my face. I raised the flap the tiniest bit and saw a thin pale mist hanging in the air. It was entirely the wrong weather for this kind of mist and I was happy that I'd guessed right but scared as to what might happen next. I shook Emma gently; nothing, totally out cold, but still breathing gently. I stretched across and under cover of the mist pulled the car mirror free of the wood pile and pointed it back into the clearing. Then there was the most noise I'd heard in days. It was the starting of an engine! I steadied my breathing and wondered how long I could hold my breath if they came into the tent. I looked into the mirror and saw a bright yellow cage lower into the centre of the clearing across from us. It contained three men, two of whom were carrying tool boxes, the third looked like he was armed. All three were wearing oxygen masks with small tanks like mine. "Check our actors," said the first in an south English accent and in my mirror I could see the security man coming towards us. I took a deep breath and hid the mask under my blanket. The flap opened. "Both out cold," said the voice, and it sounded Eastern European. He shook Emma by her leg, then kicked my foot. "Yes, sound asleep." He stood up, then lifted the side of the tent and came forward, I crept an eye open and I saw him lift the blanket and feel around for Emma's tits. He giggled. I was beginning to fear that I'd have to take a breath, "Leave the merchandise alone Viktor," growled a voice that sounded like it came from a radio and the tent flap fell. I put the mask to face just in time and exhaled. I drew a lungful of clean clear oxygen and got back to watching what was going on outside via the mirror. The two with tool boxes were messing around with the tree directly opposite the mouth of our tent, I was right, they couldn't see what was going on and were putting in a camera so they could. Bastards. There was a crackle from the radio, the same voice, which sounded refined English, "We're turning off the anaesthetic, so you have ten minutes before you have to come out. Find the power outage, sort the new camera and get the hell back up here again, make sure you put the rabbits in the snares..." "OK boss," replied the security man. I looked closer at him, he was wearing a Taser gun like the police carried, to incapacitate not kill, and more importantly, one shot. But he did look like he could do similar with his fists. Shit. I watched where the new camera was fitted. It was in a tree not ten yards from the mouth of our tent. It was in a hole in the wood and looked like it was covered with a camouflaged mesh. "Power on," said one of the technicians, "Raise the tent flap, let's check the view." I held my breath and hid the mask again. The flap came up, "how's that?" There was the crackle of a radio, "...Yeah that's fine I can see in there quite nicely..." it was the same voice from before. I crept an eye open the tinest fraction and saw the camera, shit it was filming me! I couldn't get back to my mask without giving it away. I wanted desperately to know where the power cable was as well; if I could knock that out that they'd have to come down again. My breath was getting too close, and I was breathing out slowly to try and make it last longer. Eventually I gasped and figured that at least I knew where the fucking camera that would be watching us was. I breathed in; Nothing happened. OK I felt a little dizzy but perhaps the gas had dissipated to an extent that if I wasn't out cold I probably wouldn't be. I saw the technician push something against the tree, it must have been power to that camera, it was camouflaged as a vine and invisible! Very cleverly done, the camera was hidden in the bough of the tree as well. The radio crackled again, "...will you have time to get a microphone into the tent? We can't hear them in there..." "Not really boss, not that they won't find in any case. We have about seven minutes to check the main cable," the voice took a deep breath, "look, we'll come back one night next week and fit one, Viktor is changing the gas tanks so we can get another couple of shots in." He shouted across the clearing, "You sorted that gas tank you dumb fuck?" "Kiss my ass," came the reply, "I change the gas tank while you still fuck around with the camera." The radio crackled again, "...just get on with it, you have four minutes, don't forget to put the tent flap back down." "The mad professor seems really pissed off about something this afternoon?" said the first, "Don't see why, the actors have finally started performing and the new management seem happy at last." "Insane bastard," said the second, "I think that twat actually thinks these poor bastards enjoy being down here." They ran to the centre of the woods and started to scrape with a shovel then a hatch was lifted and one of them dropped down. "Done!" screamed the voice, they dropped the hatch, flattened and stomped the earth down and head off to a "get back on the lift!" from the Eastern European. As the sun started to set, the motor on the lift started and the crane lifted the yellow cage out of the clearing and the motor shut down as fast as it had started. I could hear voices. It was clear someone was being paid in cash and it wasn't enough. The words, 'damned microphone in the tent' and 'we'll see you on Tuesday' came across the air as if getting further away. Well that was that. It was a well organised scheme at the least. I put my mask back into the bag and turned off the oxygen. I was going to be needing it. I decided that I would come round as expected and within three minutes of hearing the voices stop I was raising the tent flap and looking quite tired. I'd seen enough people come around from anaesthetic after all. I threw open the tent flap exposing both Emma and I to the outside world I tried hard not to look at where I knew the new camera was. I climbed out of the tent, stoked the fire and walked to the stream to fill the cups. Emma stretched, and looked bleary eyed at me. "Your lovemaking really tired me out," she said "I slept like a log." "No sleep like after sex sleep," I said leaning back to kiss her lips. She beamed her big wonderful smile at me again. I made a play of kissing her face, cheeks, and neck, "they gassed us," I hissed in her ear, "a heavy anaesthetic by the look." She looked quizzically at me, "I was on oxygen, only just got away with it. Smile at me..." She did, despite my revelations, and I carried on whispering sweet nothings to her, our faces millimetres apart, both grinning like love struck idiots as I told her about the yellow cage, the two technicians, the security man, the voice on the radio and the fact that there would be two rabbits in the snares, I even knew what colour they would be. She sat up and kissed me again putting her arms around my neck, our tongues swirling and swishing together, and I no longer felt like this was part of the necessary act to keep our audience off of their toes. It was a wonderful feeling and was probably stopping both of us stressing and going to pieces over this latest revelation. Again, I led her to the toilet pit, this time I had no hesitation to watch her drop her trousers. She had nothing I hadn't seen very close up. She didn't seem to mind so I reciprocated and peed a long stream into the square hole. We walked back to camp area by way of the rabbit hill and there were two rabbits - Dutch black and whites from my memory as a kid, caught in Sean's original snares. I'd learned about rabbit snaring and it was obvious that this was set up. Rabbits are snared on 'runs' - faint tracks that show were they are going. These had their necks broken and were put into the snares for us to find. I took them out and reset the snares. Whatever had happened, I could remember enough from my survival training about what to do with them. I headed back to our camp and got Sean's sharpened flint and proceeded to cut, no hack them about. I gutted them, and had I had a mess tin I'd have kept the entrails, but they both ended up in the soil pit. Then the heads and the skin leaving the dark pink flesh just begging to be spit roasted over our fire. That was what we did. With our bottle of port, we dined well that night, and I'll confess we got a little tipsy. I broke pieces of cooked meat from the bones and fed them to her. Emma purred in that way she had about her and we had sips of port from our Coke tin mugs. Once finished I threw the bones into the spoil heap and threw more soil over the top. Back at the camp she took my hand and then pulled me to her, "Dance with me Harry," she said, "this has been one of the most romantic days of my life." I pulled her into my arms and we danced. She sang. "And sometimes when we touch, the honesty's too much and I have to close my eyes and hide. I want to hold you till I die, till we both break down and cry, I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides..." She was pitch perfect and I felt the emotion in the song. "I love you Harry," she whispered in my ear, "Please, never leave me, ev..." I put a finger to her lips, "Hey, hold on," I said quietly, but in a voice as loud as hers, "Let's find a way out first." The hurt in her face was heart-breaking, and I pulled her to me. "Tent," I hissed. "I don't..." "Tent Emma, please." She walked quietly to the tent and slipped off her shoes, something we had both started doing that day. She slid in and pulled the blankets and coats over her. I stacked the fire, pulled down the flap and slid in behind her. I pulled her to me, a finger to my lips. "I'm sorry Harry," she said, "I'm just a bit... you know, I shouldn't have said..." I cut her short with a kiss, and she turned to face me; we adopted our mouth to ear position that was so comfy. "Emma, I'll never leave you, I promise; why? Because I love you too." She hugged me, and we kissed again, "I said those things, because... because I don't want whichever psycho is running this to decide to send another bloke down here and split us up, or carry out some sick experiment, find another Sean to send down here to fight for you." "I get it," she said, "what do we do now?" "We carry on like we did today. From what I heard today, whoever is running this is either selling the images on the internet, or doing some crazy fucking research into human behaviour, my money is on the selling the pictures." "Really?" "This is the twenty first century Baby," I said, "there is always someone that will pay money for live feed. This is just a porn version of Big Brother meets Naked and Afraid," I pulled her close, "I don't want them to send some more talent in just to liven up the scripts. The technical people said that the 'new management would be happy'. Viktor sounded East European so..." "OK Harry," she sniffed wiping her eyes, "I get it; being a porn star might take some getting used to." She giggled. "No, you looked like you were enjoying yourself," I said. "If you think about it, we had some great sex and next thing we are eating spit roasted rabbit. We'll need to keep the mad professor and the new management happy til we work out some way of getting on to that cage that they lower in here." "Thanks Harry." "Sorry I ruined your most romantic night ever." I hissed, "I love you Emma." "Love you Harry." We wrapped ourselves in covers and rolled over to sleep. I woke the next morning and Emma was laying half across me again. Even though I know it had only been washed in some of my shower gel but her hair smelled wonderful. So did she... What the fuck? What effect was this place having on me; I'd been involved with half a dozen women in my life, one of which was hot, 23 year old, 36 26 36 Army nurse Kim who I had spent the best part of three months and more hot nights than I care to mention, but I didn't have a tenth of the feelings I had for this girl, who I'd known for four days and made love to once. Weird. I guessed it was just this shitty situation we found ourselves in and the certain knowledge that we were prisoners, with no more control over our lives than someone in Wormwood Scrubs doing life for murder. I thought about what we did the previous day and once we'd performed we were thrown some scraps of food that we had to scrape and clean and cook ourselves. At least real pornstars were well fed. As I lay there I contemplated what our real options were. We could play along and survive and see what happened. I lifted the side of the tent feeling down, I threw wood on the fire and thought about our lack of firewood. I pushed the two cans of water towards the fire as usual, they would take some time to warm up. I listened for the whirring sound to let me know I was being watched. I guessed we were pretty much on view all of the time. The whirring of the many cameras I'd heard around our small hole led me to believe that every inch could be covered and if it wasn't I guessed that they just wait for an evening and gas us again and make sure it was. I thought about if we just stopped having sex or stopped performing in any kind of way. We wouldn't get fed I pretty much guessed. The previous evening I'd asked Emma how she'd filled her time. She said that she had wandered blindly around looking for food and escape. Sean had shown her where the fish traps were, Sean had set the snares, Sean had dug the latrine pit and built the shelter. Sean must have been dropped in to set up this camp, otherwise the pretty parish priest they had kidnapped would starve to death or commit suicide as their previous guest had done. I guessed that they took her glasses to make the viewing a bit more interesting. I tried to play the scene in my head. Sean is Bear Grylls and shows the poor girl the ropes. The scene doesn't play out as he imagines and eventually he starts to take advantage. She fights him off and he is lifted out of the scenario. I was intrigued to know what had happened to him. After this, there wasn't much of an option to release the two hole dwellers back where they'd been found as if nothing had happened after all. Someone was responsible for the death of a young woman, probably called Tina, and because of my insistence on checking out the corpse we now both knew about it and our captors knew that we knew. I'd either signed our death warrants or imprisoned us both for life. Shit. No scenario I could imagine ended well here. The soldier in me was furious, I couldn't fight my way out of this one, and the best I could hope for would be a gradual weakening of one of both of us living in a cold wet hole, waiting for starvation, infection, dysentery, pneumonia or the flu to carry us off. All the time did interesting things, including having sex we'd be kept alive in our fish tank for the pleasure of our viewers, and if we stopped doing that, just stopped being interesting that would be that. Our hosts could just switch off the cameras, bugger off and come back two years later to what was left of our skeletons, and then fill the hole up. I did remember the most important message our mad major had taught us though in survival situations; to win the war with our own morale, be that in a survival situation or as Prisoners of War - Gulf War one had brought that home to everyone. I shook my head, prisoner of war... hmm... I couldn't fight my way out, so I'd have to use everything else I had and take my chance when it arrived. "Hey handsome," said the voice from my chest, "penny for your thoughts?" "Hey baby," I kissed her, "They aren't worth that much sadly." "Oh I bet they are," she said tapping the end of my nose. "Nah," I said, "I've been going over our options, and we don't seem to have any." "Harry," she said, "don't go down that road please," she said. She rested her forehead against mine, "I've been there - it's very long and there's no way out at the end of it. I know it seems that all's lost but in less than a week you proved to me that I still have something to live for," her eyes lit up, "you!" She beamed a huge smile, "You brought me back, and I'm not going to let you go where I went." She put her hands to either side of my face. "We both have something to live for now - each other. Whether that 'each other' will ever see us out of this hole, I don't know, but you've given me hope Harry, you've given me warmth, affection, care, compassion and love. I made a promise to Mum and Dad that I would see them again, and so I will." She flipped up the side of the tent, and threw the covers off of us both, she had removed her trousers and knickers. "And if me ever seeing them again or ever taking you back to my lovely vicarage and making you a cup of tea and a bacon and egg sandwich means we have to be tame rats that make wonderful love to each other in the Big Brother hole, then I'm prepared to bloody do it." She took hold of the belt from my jeans and started to undo it, "I want something nice for supper darling," she whispered, "so get 'em off!" The Big Brother Hole Ch. 02 I laughed, and did what I was told. "I liked sucking you yesterday," she said, "was it OK?" "Oh yes," I said, "it was obvious you've not had much experience, but you definitely had potential!" "Thank you," she beamed at me, "It's always nice to get positive feedback, even on my oral sex technique and, as you have pointed out not something I was taught at college or Uni." "Stick with me baby," I said, "I'll see you right." "Oh, and you certainly did yesterday," she said, "Hell, when you licked me... down there..." "Your pussy..." "Yes..." she answered, "when you licked me..." "When I licked your pussy." She pursed her lips in a smile, her perfect puss on display and her lovely naked bottom pointing at the new camera they'd installed yesterday. She leant forward over me, "When you licked my pussy yesterday," she purred, "it was the most wonderful feeling ever, better than anything I ever did to myself." "I noticed you were getting quite into it in the pool yesterday morning." "Oh I've always been a prolific masturbator, right back from when I first leant against a spin cycle washing machine at home. Wanna know a secret?" she giggled. "Yeah," I said. "I was too scared to order a vibrator, you know with my job and everything." "Yeah." "Well, I bought an electric toothbrush, aaaaaand..." I grinned, knowing the answer, "And?" She grimaced, "I bought the little clitoral stimulator attachment from Amazon." I giggled, "Oh Harry it's wonderful!" she cried, I looked over her shoulder at the camera that was behind her and probably zoomed in on her bare bottom. "Tell me about it," I said. "Well," she sat to rest her weight on one side, while I pushed the two mugs into the embers of our fire and threw and handful of sticks onto them. "Well, I normally save it for first thing on a Saturday morning, you know, when I have nothing to get up for as such. I make myself breakfast, listen to the news then head back to bed, and get the spare electric toothbrush from the cupboard and put the new head on it." She ran fingers through her long hair, "Of course by this time I'm quite in the mood." She closed her eyes, "I start with it buzzing across my vaginal lips, slooooowly and it's really nice, then it goes just around the inside, of my..." she paused looking at me and my cheeky smile, "inside of my pussy; I hold off for as long as I can - not that long really - then it goes up and around my clit until I come. It's lovely, and I'm ashamed to say it's one of the things I really miss!" She giggled. "What do you think about?" I said, gently. "It depends," she said relaxing in to our discussion, "sometimes it's something sexy I've seen on TV, sometimes it's some bloke that I've seen and fancied," she stopped for a second, "sometimes a woman..." "Why Emma Rogers, you naughty bitch..." "Works for me though. What about you?" "What?" "When you masturbate, what does it for you?" "Same kind of thing, not blokes I fancy I must confess." "Internet Porn?" "Some, I prefer the stories to the movies, sometimes the pictures in your mind are better than the ones on video." She looked across at me, unbuttoning her blouse, "So you'd rather read a story than watch the real thing Harry?" She folded the edges of her black blouse to one side exposing her breasts, first one then the other. She got up onto her knees and took the blouse off, staring down at my erect cock. "I can't say I've had massive experience of either sort, but right now I really interested in hands on experience, tell me what to do Harry..." Now it was Emma's turn to kneel between my legs. Yesterday she had sucked my cock and it has been extremely nice. but seeing as she was keen to learn, I was keen to teach. I hoped our voices were loud enough to be picked up and explained to her about the sensitive strip underneath my prick and how that bit was like a male clitoris. Once she knew this she virtually scrubbed at the thing, making me curl up and gasp, telling her that unless she wanted a mouthful of my semen she should stop right there. She didn't stop, and she got a mouthful of my come, only coughing a little at first when it shot into her mouth. She sucked it down though. "Christ Emma," I panted, "that was... shit, that was fantastic." "I must confess I was rather pleased with myself," she said, licking at the end of me to make sure she'd got all of it. She rested on one cheek again smiling at me and slowly wanking me. "You look surprised!" "Well yes," you're a vicar," I said, "and you're only the second girl that's ever gone all the way with a... err..." "A blowjob Harry," she said, playing me at my own game. She laughed again rubbing my thighs, "I might have gone to theological college but I still went to school, I still watch TV and although I didn't 'learn on the job' as it were, part of my training as a Priest is couples counselling." "Well," I said, sitting up and pulling her towards me. "Because you did such a splendid job sucking me off, I won't be able to fuck you until I recover. So we need to find something to do in the meantime. I suppose you want me to go down on you now?" "I thought you'd never ask Harry," she said smiling, "But get this, no longer than an hour OK?" I jumped on her and she screamed and giggled, and pinning her to the floor I proceeded to kiss her face, neck, cheeks and chin, working south past her breasts and I sucked on her nipples making sure I paid them a great deal of attention. I finally gave them up and worked down to her pussy. As with the day before I pushed her pubic hair aside and made for her labia. Thinking of our audience I stopped, and pulled her out of the tent and into our little clearing in the brightest sunlight and, as it happened, the view of the camera. "Stay there!" I said, "just like that!" She looked intrigued. I reached into the tent and retrieved my wash bag and took one of the tins of water heating up in the fire. I took out a small black case that had lived in my car since I won it in a work raffle years before - one of those 'gentlemen's grooming kits. I took the small nail scissors I'd had and never used and using my fingers as an impromptu comb, I began to trim her pubic hair. "What are you doing?" she said, grinning at me. "Just to make life interesting," I said, "Never done it before?" "Only around a swimming costume, the clergy really aren't supposed to look like porn stars in the changing room." "You'll love it," I said, "Trust me." I trimmed back, carefully snipping until there was just short hairs that would respond well to the razor. Taking the tin of warm water I soaped my hands and her entire pussy area, she lay back resting on her elbows, her legs spread wide while I took the unused twin blade razor that had sat next to the nail scissors. I scraped gently through the white foamy stubble, watching as the clean white flesh appeared. I was very careful, and gently lifted the folds of skin to one side, and even shaved around her perineum and so carefully around her anus. Her head popped up from its resting place for that one! Finally, I poured the last of that tin of hot water, across her groin and looked on with pleasure at the clean and shaved vagina in front of me. With a huge smile on her face she leaned forward to look at my handy work and to appreciate her now bald pussy, probably for the first time since she hit puberty. "Wow Harry," she said, her face flushing the same colour as her aroused genitalia, "it looks so sexy." She took a deep breath, biting her lower lip as she did when she was getting turned on. "When I say it looks sexy, what I mean is..." she nodded and rubbed her hand across the fresh shaved area peering down at my handiwork. "Hmm, Not seen that view since I was thirteen." She put her hands either side and moved her flesh around to appreciate the feeling. I stood and headed for the stream to fill the cup again and used it to rinse away the soap suds still on the ground and brushed away the hair I'd cut off. As I collected handfuls of it, I thought about how I was actually spreading Emma's DNA around the clearing as well! I put the newly refilled cup into the embers again, "Just need to think of something to do until the water boils..." I said. Emma leaned forward, "Harry Scholes, if you don't either eat me or fuck me, so help me I'll..." I stopped her threats by kissing her. Within minutes I was between her thighs, licking and lapping where I'd been before, with just the faintest hint of soap. That was soon replaced by Emma's abundant juices leaking from her as I played with her clit, G-spot, labia, even tonguing her anus which she did enjoy. Finally, I slipped wet fingers into her cunt and finger fucked her curling my fingers to G-spot massage; then, feeling the devilment I slipped my wet ring finger, appositely, through the ring of her anus; again her head was up and she almost howled through her orgasm, probably the strongest one yet and was intrigued by the gush of her pussy juice squirting across my face. "You... you made me wet myself!" She gasped, "that must have been one hell of an orgasm you gave me Mr Scholes!" "G-spot come Miss Rogers," I said, "a perfectly normal squirt for a perfectly perfect come." She put her hand on the flat of her belly. "Fucking WOW Harry!" she said, "that was amazing!" She pulled herself up a bit so we were almost face to face, "If I promise to be good, will you do that to me again?" "Of course," I said leaning forward to kiss her lips, "lay down and I will." I pushed her back flat on the ground and went back to her puss. "But Harry I didn't mean... Awwwwwwwww SHIT!" I made sure she had a few more, and once satisfied that she'd had at least three comes and my prick was hard I slid onto her to push into her soft, wet, welcoming pussy for the second time. This time in full view of the camera. "Fuck me Harry," she gasped, "Oh shit, it's better than yesterday, so much better, fuck me darling Harry, fuck me!" I did, and thinking about her next orgasm as much as our audience, I lifted off of her and using her legs as leverage, turned her until she was on her front and raised onto her hands and knees, her lovely bottom on display to me. The camera would see her face and her great tits as I did what I wanted to do. Fuck, but it was like I'd hit a switch, and she cried, warbled and called out my name as I pumped in and out of her doggie fashion. "I'm coming Harry, I'm co... ooooooooooowh shit!" I came; there was no way I could stop myself. We rolled on to the ground both gasping and laughing, our relationship cemented one step further by the wonderful, loving, passionate, slightly dirty fuck we'd shared. "That I have to try again!" she gasped, giggling like a tipsy teenager. "Give me an hour," I said laughing in response. She ran a hand across her face, "You must learn to keep up Harry," she panted. "If you say so." I rolled closer to the fire, and made some tea with the lemon balm this time and it was lovely and refreshing. We backed into the tent pulling coats and blankets across our nakedness, staring out to where the camera was watching us. I had a thought, something to throw out there to our audience. "Emma," I said kissing her hand that was idly resting on her face, "thinking about bald pussies and puberty and stuff, I'm guessing with your crappy diet you stopped coming on?" She smiled, we were starting to read each-others thoughts. "Yes," she said with a raised lip, "they idea scares me that I could be doing serious damage to my body, but actually it's quite nice not to do all that monthly shit with pads and tampons." She rolled closer to me, taking my almost empty cup from my hand and putting it next to hers, "But most importantly," she said, "It means at least we can fuck like rabbits and there's no chance that I'll be giving birth to a tiny little Harry or Harriet in nine months' time!" She squealed and pulled me over her. She punched the top of the tent making the flap fall and to hide us from view. There was much laughing, kissing and cuddling in our warm bower, and despite my having come twice already, I was soon erect and we were making love again, for us this time, and it simple missionary sex and quite lovely. As we lay holding each other in the post lovemaking glow, we whispered to each other about how our captors might sneak food into the Big Brother Hole so that she would be well enough to fall pregnant. After all, whoever was keeping us down here they must have been fucking sick, and the thought they could control our lives to that extent must have given them an idea that would either sell or turn them on. I kissed her again, "Emma," I hissed into her ear, "believe or not, right now, I would love to make a baby with you." "Aww Harry," she laughed loudly but with a real joy, then she whispered "I love you!" I guessed they'd feed us after all our efforts and I thought whether I should stay awake and watch again. Emma pulled me close, and we were naked skin against naked skin and it was quite lovely. I thought 'fuck it' and went with the moment. I slept well. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 03 Our days took on a familiar pattern. We woke up, messed around, made a hot drink of some kind, messed around some more, collected firewood, explored the Big Brother Hole and of course we made love. As we explored I made a point of spreading loose earth from under our bed earth via a hole in my trouser pocket just like in 'The Great Escape' letting it fall on and around the hard compacted soil of the hole and both Emma and I made a point of not stepping on it. There was a really hot 'Indian Summer' week that we enjoyed, and we spent it naked and getting a bit of a tan into the bargain. At my request she just wore her panties sometimes, and I'd wear my stretchy black boxers. It was hot and for the addition of underwear, neither of us could keep our hands of each other. Half way through that week, Emma decided she wanted to suck me again; in our tent the night before we'd talked about men and porn, and women and porn, and that blow jobs were favourite viewing and referred to as a 'money shot'. "So that means I have to suck you off every time does it Harry?" she giggled. "No," I insisted, "all the time you come and you squirt the way you do, I reckon that will sell as well!" The sun poured across our camp and for some reason we started to wrestle and as I spun her around to get me face to her puss, and thinking about our audience I introduced her to the concept of the sixty nine. She was extremely taken with it and we both gave of our best for as long as we could. It was really exciting and the joint passion and mutual contact meant that we couldn't last long and as she gushed her lady come across my face and tensing up, she raised off of me so that by accident, with her still wanking me, I came not in her mouth but across her face. This was another first for her and she rolled off of me, laughing and hugging her sides, my sperm running down her cheeks. I lay next to her and whispered, "money shot" in her ear, and she fell about laughing again. Once recovered she sat up and taking one of her long fingers swiped my come from her face and sucked it into her mouth, lowering the stringy drops into her mouth. She wiped each corner of her mouth and hissed 'ker'ching!' to me. This of course meant we had to relax and cool down, and we just played with each other; eventually a short while later she was on her hands and knees getting wildly fucked by me, even going so far as to slap her bottom every now and again. That turned her on no end after a shattering joint climax we fell asleep in the middle of the wood. We woke up some time later, and the sun had dropped, and I felt the chill. We'd been gassed again, fuck. I woke up properly and kissed my lover awake also. She grinned at me, "That after sex sleep Harry," she grinned at me - it was Big Brother Hole dweller shorthand for 'they fucking gassed us again'. "You got it," I said. I walked across to the pit and had a pee, noticing that our captors had indeed visited us and there were three partial footprints around the loose soil I'd spread. I reckoned that this could be the spot that the gas tank was hidden as it was the only point I couldn't see last time. I'd need to check one more time. After I'd peed I dressed, and helped Emma to do the same. I took her hand and said we should check the fish traps and see what was there, knowing something would be somewhere. There were more signs of activity at the places the cameras were. Nothing in the stream, over to the snares. There were two more rabbits, big white ones this time, what my Grandpa called Flemish Giants. "That's what you get for coming on my face and smacking my arse Harry." Emma whispered in my ear. On our way back I scuffed over the couple of marks and footprints our captors had left. As well as this, I also guessed that today must have been Tuesday. I was getting good at skinning and gutting now and we ate a nice meal, cuddling up to sleep together, in each-other's arms and loving it. We both fancied a bath but we knew that we would really need to save our shampoo. So with what little heat there was in the left in the days, we both decided to just clean our teeth and just swim in the pool and see if we could stay clean that way. It was tremendous fun, and we splashed like a couple of kids. I lay back against the log and Emma came and straddled me. My penis erected of course and she made use of it sliding it into her and pushing down on me. She put her arms around my neck and we just sat there together enjoying the water and the closeness, which after all, was all the entertainment we had. She slowly rode me up and down enjoying having the control. I put hands on her bottom, rubbed her tits and just generally enjoyed feeling her smooth skin, wet from clear spring water. Clear spring water that was probably being pumped, cleaned and purified in some hidden plant somewhere. It was a great fuck, and she came, and I followed on just with her pleasure. She continued sitting on my lap as I went soft inside her and we just chatted. I'd already found out that she had no middle name, her birthday fell on New Year's Day and she was 30 next January. "So tell me about Emma," I said. She came from Salisbury and Mum and Dad still lived there. She had a faint wobble in her voice as she spoke of them; I smiled at her and she continued. She had a sister Ann (with no 'E' she was keen to point out) who was her best friend and by the sound of it they lived lives straight out an Enid Blyton book. Mum and Dad were both GP's and the lived out in the country. They went to church and its adjacent school; they were both Brownies, Guides and Rangers and won all the badges. The baked cakes, rode ponies and I asked if she had friends called Julian, Dick and George and went on long cycle rides. She threw water at me and swore under her breath, and giggled. Both her and her sister had won places at Salisbury Grammar and worked through the sixth form there. Her sister went to on to study medicine at Christ's College Cambridge, while Emma didn't want to be involved with sick people after watching her parent's lives. Instead she headed for her mother's alma mater and studied at Wycliffe College, Oxford. Leaving with a First in divinity, she spent a few years as a curate working in parishes across the south east, until she was offered a parish with a tiny Anglican church just in the Dales and spitting distance from her sister who was married to an army doctor based at Catterick with her two children. She'd stayed in contact with 'good friend' Nathaniel from Oxford but he never repeated the fumble they'd had at Uni' or appeared interested in that kind of thing. Life in the dales was very slow and she'd pretty much given up finding the right man and having a family, but was a regular visitor to her 2 nephews just across the A1. Was she broody? "Hell yes!" she said, "Only for the last eight years!" "And good friend Nathaniel from Oxford was a bit of a let-down?" "Oh, well we snogged a few times at college parties, but he's a real theologian now as well, I get the feeling his tendencies were verging toward the Roman and women were too much of a distraction from his path to righteousness." I started to feel just a faint chill and pulled her closer to me. "How's your path to righteousness?" "It's just fine," she said and I felt her goose pimples, not to say her erect nipples brush against my chest hair. "Vicar called Nathaniel, bound to be a bit of wrong'un, stands to reason." I said. "What's wrong with Nathaniel?" "War of the Worlds," I said thinking back not to the classic piece of Victorian Sci-fi but to the brilliant Jeff Wayne album that was a part of Mum's record collection. "Uhh?" she said looking at me like I was the one from another planet. I sang a bit of the song, 'spirit of man' which featured the lines 'No Nathaniel no," and she completely failed to get it. "In the book he's the Parson that the narrator has to keep calm and eventually kills so Martians don't find them." "I've only seen the film," she said. I sighed, and shook my head, "The character that Tim Robbins played." "Oh yeah! That was a good bit!" "Yes," I added, "and it was my most tenuous link to vicars called Nathaniel; although he wasn't called Nathaniel in the book mind you, but you get my drift." "Not really," she shook her head and tried not to laugh, but did anyway and beamed that wonderful smile at me. "Anyway, whether Nathaniel ever goes mad and gets dragged off by the tripods I don't care." She kissed me, "I have a wonderful, smart, caring guy that's really close and is looking after me and once I get out of here, I want to consider all sorts of options with him!" I put my head to one side, "Is he bigger than me?" "You!!" she growled at me, her face a picture of laughter. We giggled and kissed some more. "So tell me about Harry Scholes," she said, "What made him such a fantastic guy and, in his words, a 'hi-speed life-saving hero?" For my part, I was a thirty year old only child of an extremely hard working Dad who had died way to early and as a result of the asbestos he'd inhaled working in the Dockyard in Chatham leaving me with his medals, and a few family photos. Not many photos, because any with my Mum in had gone on the fire. My Mum had left us for to live with another man, who had swept her off of her feet in a whirlwind romance based on her blonde hair and voluptuous figure. Fifteen years younger than Dad, Mum had married him way to early, everyone said it, and all was well until she'd had her head turned by her new boss at the hairdresser she worked at. He'd wined and dined her in the town's only restaurant, Mum telling Dad she was out with her sister, while whatever he couldn't do in the restaurant he did in his car. She came back from work one day and told Dad that she was leaving him to be with 'Adam'. Dad was the softest spoken, gentlest bloke you could ever meet and the kind of person that life delights in fucking over the most. He'd worshipped Mum and would have done anything for her. I still carry to this day the vision of his life collapsing around him as Mum told him how sorry she was but she really wanted to start again with Adam, and while the tears streamed down his face, she tried the 'I'm just know that you'll find someone wonderful and in a few years' time we'll all be good friends and laughing about all this' speech. He begged her to stay, but she just kept repeating she was in love with 'Adam' and couldn't live without him. Dad stood up, walked to the front door telling her he'd be back in an hour; he asked that she reconsider and think about me; he promised that he'd forget all about the conversation she'd just had and they could work things out. If she left then that was it, there was no coming back. When he got back from the Civil Service Club exactly an hour afterwards I was in bed and crying myself to sleep and Mum was long gone, leaving me on my own in fact the second Dad had left, a terrified eight year old - alone in our big house. She never even said goodbye. I saw her a couple of times over the next few years at my maternal Grandparents house who I still visited when Dad worked overtime on a Saturday. When she saw me, she simply said "Oh". No hugs or kisses, or telling me how much she'd missed me. Nothing. My Grandpa said something like, "haven't you got anything to say to Harry?" She just smiled an embarrassed and totally false smile and said, "Hi Harry," only to walk out to the garden to smoke. The next time, about a year later this increased to 'Hi Harry, how are you?" before going out the garden. I came home from army cadets five or six years later to find her at the door of the maisonette we'd moved into with a screaming toddler asking if she could stay for a few nights. Adam was shagging someone younger and had beaten up Mum when she'd got cross with him about it. I stood twenty feet away in the dark cover of the overhead walkways our estate was covered with, and listened. Dad had dragged himself back together over days, nights, weeks, months and years. Without Mum's wages he'd had to sell the three bedroom house he'd spent all of my life preparing and repairing and we'd ended up in this shitty maisonette on this shitty housing estate. "Please Roy," she said with tears in her voice, "just a couple of nights while I get the council housing sorted out." Dad went quiet for a moment, and I could see the tears on Mum's face, 'he's going to give in,' I thought angrily. I'd grown to hate her over those lonely years. "No Geraldine," he said with a faint hint in his voice, "I just know that you'll find someone wonderful and in a few years' time, we'll all be good friends and laughing about all this." I heard the door slam. Revenge, a dish best served cold and well matured. I could see Mum banging on the door calling his name; still holding the howling kid she slid down the closed door to sit on the step, weeping pathetically. So I walked away and stood outside the chip shop just for the light and the warmth. Just before closing the owner who had been watching me sat outside still in my uniform, called me in and gave me a huge bag of chips and the remaining sausages and I sat at the bus stop eating them until just gone midnight and I walked home. Dad was in front of the gas fire looking pale, and I unwrapped the remaining chips and he ate his fill while I made him a cup of tea and buttered some bread. We both knew where I'd been and what had happened. Ordinarily on a cadet night I was allowed to stay out until ten o'clock, and he'd go off on one if I was late. Not tonight it seemed, and we sat there watching the late film drinking tea and eating chip butties until about two in the morning, neither of us saying a word, companionable silence. He got up for work, I got up for school that was that. End of incident. He was diagnosed with Asbestosis the following year and it killed him three years later, six months after his compensation arrived. He'd left it to me and I saved it - it was the deposit for my first flat. Dad died and the council tried to kick me out of our flat because I wasn't on the lease, but I had been accepted into the army and was holding off joining because Dad was ill. After his death, I stayed in the maisonette until the funeral and then joined up. I went through basic training at Caterham, and was a bit of a freak because I never went home for leave. My Dad's parents had passed away years before and since the arrival of my half-brother I was not terribly welcome with at Mum's parents, leastways not with my Grandma; To this day I still meet Grandpa in the pub and he's never told on us. Having no home to go to I stayed in camp and saved my money. I would volunteer to do guard duties at weekends so mates could go home, and for this was dubbed 'keen' by my instructors. One of them, Colour Sergeant Cray, dubbed 'Ronnie' of course, took a shine to me and I spent a couple of nice evenings and Christmas night with him and his family because I didn't have one. Ronnie was the first aid instructor and I just soaked up his training, and considered being a medic as well as an infantry man. Once I'd completed my training and passed out I was posted to the Rhineland for eighteen months with my regiment. I made loads of good mates, and became part of the regimental family. Dubbed 'the orphan' I spent lots of Christmas's, Easter's and bank holidays with mates' families. Colour Sergeant Cray was sent back to regiment from the training depot and thanks to his support I was moved into the medical centre as a combat medical technician after some months at the Army Medical Corps training centre in the UK. While on my training, I was invited to spend the weekend at a friend's place in Hampshire, and his Mum and his sister looked after me wonderfully. Really wonderfully in fact. His sister climbed into my bed on that first Friday night and relieved me of my virginity, I told her I'd never done it, and she said 'guessed as much'. She later confessed that she'd never done a virgin before so was happy to add me to her scrap book. We all went out to their local social club the next evening and sister buggered off with some spotty youth and that was that. I figured I wasn't going to get a return bout that evening. However, not to be outdone his Mum climbed into bed with me that night as well and a good time was had by all. She brought me up breakfast on a tray the next morning and happy that her daughter was still out with the spotty youth we did it again. I was sworn to secrecy of course and Emma was the first person I'd ever told. I never heard from the sister again but did meet his Mum couple of times afterwards and she always had a knowing smile for me. I had a great time in the army and regretted nothing, but after nine years I got bored with the constant moving around; six month tour of Iraq, three months in barracks training for a tour of Afghanistan, another tour of Iraq, tour of Northern Ireland and then Afghan again. I left with a chest full of medals, professional qualifications in emergency medicine, and a desire to be in one place again, to call somewhere 'home' for the first time since Mum had walked out of my life just around my ninth birthday. I'd searched around for the right woman; Kim had been great fun and I'd enjoyed our no strings relationship and the five long months since she'd left for Cyprus had dragged by. In fact this weekend had been the first hint of a break or holiday since she'd left. "Bloody hell Harry," Emma said, "I'm so sorry." "What?" "I just sat there and read you a 'Famous Five' story while yours would have done Charles Dickens proud." "Yeah well," I said, "I survived and lived to fight another day." "I'm so pleased you did," she said, "shall we get out now?" It was starting to get cold. I helped her out of the pool and we ran back to the tent and the towel. We dried off with the one towel, and I showed her how to wipe the water off with a hand before using the towel, something you learned as a squaddie because our towels were always so bloody small. We managed to dry off with the one towel and I hung it outside of our tent to avoid any dampness - there was a nice red sky, what I could see of it. We'd avoided rain so far. We both got dressed and I settled Emma into the tent while I went to check the larder. I checked the fish traps, both empty; damn, next I walked further down to the hill that was supposedly teeming with rabbits; again nothing. Shit! I felt quite cross about this - we had put on quite a show for the last week; we'd sixty-nined each other, I'd spanked her, fucked all over the place even the pond. I shaved her pussy for fuck's sake, I'd even moved her around so she was in shot! Bastards. Mind you, I did think that it might have been a bit obvious for both sides and there was no way they could have got down into the hole to put the bunnies in the snares. I decided to have a wander around and get some of the greens we had only fallen back on a few times and see if there was any mushrooms. Low and behold there was a crop of mushrooms, and I walked across to the greens and collected an armful. I guessed I could boil them in the tins to improve the flavour and texture. I noticed a gap in the greens and walked across to see if something had been grazing in there. No tracks or marks but there was a small deer, I approached it carefully and just by the way it was laying I could see it was dead. I raised its head and saw from the tiny tusks that it was a muntjac. It still soft and pliable so I guessed it hadn't been dead long. I picked it up and saw that its neck was broken, perhaps from its fall into the hole. Whatever its cause of death I was thinking about how I might butcher it and how it might taste. I carried it back to our camp. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 03 "Dinner is served Mam," I said raising the carcass. "What?" she giggled, "you killed Bambi?" "No, Bambi did this all himself, reckon he bounced a little high and landed in the hole. I'll get out the scissors and the flint and see if we can bleed him and chop him up." We did; we bled him and chopped him up, with very little technique or finesse, I basically hacked and battered the thing until it came apart. The Mad Major had taught us the art of grallicking, the huntsman's method of making sure that whatever was in a kill's digestive system stayed in it. I even took everything bar the heart, liver and kidneys and dug a hole in the soft earth bank to bury it. We hung various lumps of him across the clearing and decided to cook a couple of legs. Two hours and lots of wood later we were again feasting on a wonderful meal, this time venison. We had pine needle tea and some roasted greens we'd laid over the meat which made an interesting variation. We even went so far as to have a couple of boiled sweets! We lay in our tent nibbling the last pieces of meat and I wondered how we might prepare and preserve more of this evenings feast. I just knew that uncooked it would just fester and go bad. I knew that people hung meat to air dry and so preserve it so thought I'd leave one piece to do that. After all I doubted we'd eat all of it without it going bad. Emma even suggested we get some mud from the river bed, wrap it around another piece and 'clay bake' it in the embers of the fire. We tried that and low behold we had splendid moist roasted venison for breakfast the next morning. I took a rather cool bath that night, having stripped naked to butcher the deer. I just knew that blood and all the other crap was going to end up all over me so did it naked. Emma didn't mind in the slightest but was constantly telling me to be careful! This also meant that I was still slightly chilly when we eventually got to bed. "You're frozen," she said. I was wearing only my shorts and T-shirt, "come here," she said and stripped off her black shirt and black trousers leaving her in just her peach panties. The skin on skin contact was twice as good as the actual warmth I received from her nearly naked body touching mine, and we pulled the blankets and coats over us. The fire was burning hot, there was still meat in it so we left the side of the tent open. We kissed passionately, caressing each other dressed only in our underwear, brave for a late September night, but we lay there virtually naked just being in each other's company knowing that would we would make love very soon. We removed our underwear, "Make love to me," she mouthed, "please..." Like I would have said no. She punched the roof of our tent and the wall fell cutting us off from our audience for the rest of that night. "I know that we have to let them see us," she whispered into my ear, "but I do prefer the times when it's just us." "So do I," I said, "I want you all to myself Emma Rogers." "Thank you Harry," she whispered, "I love you so much." I flexed my back muscles and my penis pushed against her vagina. She raised her thighs just the right amount and I was pushing into her. We both gasped and smiled. We made love clinging to each other with all our power. Again I could only be amazed at the passion we'd inspired in each other. She raised her thighs and gripped me with them, "Fuck me Harry," she gasped, and I knew it wasn't for the microphones, "Oh Harry," she gasped, "Oh fuck I'm coming, come with me Harry, pleeeease come in me." I did. We lay together with the tent flap up - neither of us was cold anymore that was for sure. We managed to go face to face to chat. "We'll have to find a way to cover the camera in here and the microphone." I stopped and thought. We had no paper and pen, and I thought of a way of silently communicating. It came to me. The army had taught us various codes to use if we were taken prisoner of war, there was the old tap code but that would be picked up by the microphones. Hand signals! They were piss easy! I would teach her them the next day and we could practice in the tent while they couldn't watch us. That day the weather came to our aid again. There was one of those crappy drizzly days and my choice of fire space came into its own and the coverage from the tree kept our fire pit dry but we pulled the tent sides down to keep our few possessions dry. By doing this I was able to teach Emma the very simple hand alphabet and she got it straight away. Laying in our tiny dry home, we shared an 'us against them' excitement that must have been akin to those 'prisoners of war' whose sternness of purpose I'd adopted a few days previously and it was quite a positive mood change for us. In our tent, illuminated by the light coming through a transparent patch above us we used our new language to pass short messages so we could get used to it. Every few minutes though we'd speak just so we wouldn't upset our captors or give them an indication that we knew what was going on. The rest of the time we silently talked about everything. She started with favourite holiday destinations and where we wanted to go. She loved America and wanted to New England in the fall while I wanted to go to Southern Italy. She missed her parents' big stupid Labrador and said that she wanted to get one of her own one day. I said that I'd always wanted one but because of job I never could. She said that I could share hers, I said only if she came to Italy with me. We giggled quietly, and Em announced that she needed to pee. I raised the tent flap for her and realised through our rather excitable sign language we had chatted over and above our normal conversation. I think we had both ignored the 'what we'll do when we get out' discussion. On reflection, I think escape was such a long shot and we had almost no options open to us, we didn't know what or who or how many we were up against it was too painful to think on any future positives, because it was just something else to break our hearts about later. We took some more of our now cold venison and I ran to our stream and filled our tins and did some maintenance of our fire while the water heated. We delighted in our companionship but I still considered or need to please our viewers. We'd earned an entire deer the previous day and really nice it had been. In the late afternoon the clouds blew over and we decided to get out of the tent and stretch our legs. We'd already discussed that we'd go to the centre of the woods and the point where I'd seen the two technicians digging for the 'power outage' the day that we'd made love for the first time. We climbed out of our tent and stood and stretched, groaning loudly. We walked to the toilet pit and both did what we needed to. I walked her across the patch where I'd found the edible greens and I guessed that they must have been planted. Walking around the edge of the patch I found another patch of mushrooms that must have sprouted overnight. I grinned at them, not because I was pleased they were there but the fact the earth they were growing in was clearly a compost and virtually a different shade and texture to the soil around it. I picked the larger ones and held them in my sweatshirt. I tried not to laugh, whoever had supplied them must not have noticed the soil/compost thing going on in the dark. I said what a shame it was we didn't have some kind of pot that we could cook with. With the greenery, the mushrooms, the meat, and some water, we could create a stock pot and live extremely well. We walked around the Big Brother Hole, hand in hand, and we secretly checked out the ground around us an in front of us. After all I had almost missed the muntjac yesterday. "There has to be something," I said squeezing Em's hand, "just a metal plate, an old style hub cap, anything." "We'll keep looking Harry," she said, "There might be something buried or sticking out of the ground." We came upon Tina's grave, and Emma stopped recognising the spot we were at. She slowly paced towards it and knelt on the damp earth, laying a hand on the centre of the mound. I saw her mouthing some words her head bowed, I reached down and took her other hand. She stood brushing her knees, "Thanks Harry," she said, "I'm so lucky to have you." "We're lucky to have each other," I said, and put my arms around her. We walked back to our tent and slid in. Each night I checked it, and rolled the front cover. We make up the fire with care, after all our supply of fire wood was a finite resource. A finite resource that did occasionally get topped up mind you! I collected the wood as my lovely Em couldn't really see enough to be able to do the same. I was very systematic with my collection but as I noticed that new branches and twigs appeared in places I'd already cleared, I stopped being quite so systematic, I wanted to give the Mad Professor his chance after all. A couple of evenings later we lay in the middle of the woods looking up at the stars, yes I was a bit of an astronomy nerd, and laying immediately on top of the flap that hid the mains power cable I'd watched them repair. We started as soon as the stars came out and every now and again we'd laugh and one of us would drum our feet hoping to catch a dull thud that would announce the wooden lid. I found it and dug a bit of a trench with my heels so that I could find it next time. Just in case of course. We lay there and hugged each other, staring up at the stars, it was one of many nights that we did the same thing. We would discuss our favourite films, and as we got to know each other we'd take guesses at the other's view on a particular movie or style of movie. "You loved 'Lord of the Rings'," I said, "and 'Harry Potter' - although you tell your friends you prefer the books." "Well said," she grinned back at me, "nearly right, I have the Harry Potter series on Audiobook, I often have an evening with Stephen Fry," she said. "Noooooow," she pondered, a finger on her lips, "You love Star Wars! "Of course!" I said, "I'm a child of my age. The new ones are OK but still love the old ones." "Oh yes," she beamed a grin at me, "The other holy trinity, Star Wars is still the best." We lay together reliving our favourite bits of our favourite movies, Indiana Jones, Die Hard, Austin Powers, Mel Brooks, they all featured in our own 100 best films. I threw in my love of Shakespeare and I regaled her with the sections I remembered. This surprised her; "I don't meet that many squaddies that are big Shakespeare fans," she said. "My degree in is English Literature," I said. "Degree?" "Open University," I said. "Wow!" she grinned at me, "I have so much respect for people that get their degrees that way; us sheltered student types forget how lucky we are to take three years out of our lives." "Can't argue with that," I said, "I did two entire modules in the field, one in Iraq, and one in Afghanistan." "How?" She rolled on to her front and lay on my shoulder. "Believe it or not there is a fair amount of spare time in forward patrol bases, I had one extra bag that my mates didn't. And I got massive support from the army - I was a poster boy on several occasions, 'army medic studies for future under threat of mortars and grenade attack,' that kind of thing, they loved me." She beamed a smile at me biting her bottom lip. "I was flown back to the education centre at Bastion to take my final exam. Every time I got some post, the Battalion second in command demanded to know if I'd got my results! When they finally arrived I was marched in front of the old man so I could tell him." And so we passed many nights finding out about each other. We'd check the fish traps and I guessed they were released into the stream. We woke to find rabbits in the snares, a lamb that must have been killed and thrown down, and more greens, more mushrooms. I only wore my oxygen a couple of times and saw the same security man, Viktor, and one of the engineers. We continued to check our tent each morning and for some reason they never did install a microphone and I guessed there was one close enough. But most mornings and most evenings we'd cuddle up and have a 'mouth to ear' whispered chat. After all it was really nice just to sit there holding each other. Using the original sharp flint I carved notches in the tree that held our tent up. Each morning, I'd get up head for a pee and then cut a notch, one of those 'four cuts and a line through' jobs that I increased to six so we could count weeks. I caught up to where I believed the 'Tuesday' when the techies had come down and we'd been together for a month. I shared my clothes with her, and my baggy trackies replaced her black trousers that had started to wear just a bit thin and were all torn about. She had pretty much taken over with my Barbour - it hung off of her but wearing one of my T-shirts under her black vicar shirt with the collar just up and her ginger hair brushed just right she looked gorgeous. But the weather was turning, it had to be mid-October and I came down with a chesty cold, no surprise really what with the dampness we lived in and the poor diet. I took herbal teas and was starting to get over it. I had what I reckoned to be one or two more visits worth of oxygen, and if I was ever to get out of this place it needed to be soon. My trousers were loose now, and between us we were wearing every piece of clothing we had and were still cold. I felt weaker than usual and figured it was time to hatch a plan. Emma suffered a bout of diarrhoea that weakened her as well, and one night we lay there in abject misery, no jolly chat or talk of past or future, we were too down for that. A brief glance showed that the stream had stopped 'flowing' - I guessed that whatever plant operated it must have broken down. After it, it had been flowing for at least six months non-stop. I hoped desperately that the Mad Professor or the new management had enough money to repair it. It meant that we had to boil all of our water not just heat it up, which meant more wood and more time. Emma caught my cold and we just held each other, hanging on to the only thing that stopped us falling into the misery that had killed our predecessor and had dragged Emma to that point. We were too tired and achy to fuck, although we both did partake of some mutual masturbation. Emma had received my come in her mouth, pussy and on her face, she had never just seen it shoot out. So with this in mind, we lay in our tent with the side up and Emma decided she was going to pull me off. We both now knew how to sit if we wanted to be seen or not. I lay on my side and Emma pulled my cock free of my clothing and bared her tits. She started a very gentle masturbation and I admit I wasn't in the mood for anything like this. But Em worked her magic on my cock and I was soon very hard and straining against her hand. She bared her lovely large breasts and rubbed the underpart of my helmet against them. "Come on my tits Harry," she said looking outrageously sexy doing it. "Come on Harry," she panted, "Come on my big tits you dirty boy!" I did! That gained us a fish, I guessed that if I'd done the same to her, we'd have got two. With my cold I had started to sleep during the day, and this was how I finally figured a possible way out. I lay awake late into the night in chesty misery and saw the white cloud roll towards me. I put my mask on and pulled the blankets across my face. I guessed they'd know I was recovering from a cold. Then there was the noise of the crane, so I set my hidden mirror and prepared. "I don't know how long they're going to survive down here," said a voice. "There's a band of rain due in and these poor bastards will pick up pneumonia pretty fast, especially if you keep pumping their lungs full of this shit with so much abandon Sean..." Sean? Sean was down here, I finally saw the short fat little fucker that Emma had described to me so well. "Fuck'em," said Sean with a big smile on his face; he was a nasty little cunt and no mistake, "If wonder-boy Harry here dies then perhaps I'll come down and keep her warm at night. If not it's back up the country and borrow some other brain damaged twat that doesn't keep an eye on his coffee." "The Mad Professor likes these two Sean, remember that." "Yeah well, the Boss is away most evenings now it's getting cold," he affected a posh voice, "I need to review the data in peace Sean," he whined, "yeah my fat cock. He don't like the cold that's all that's wrong wiv' him. Still, whatever happens I am gonna get me a bit of that pussy that this cunt Harry here's enjoying so much. Figured when Viktor is off in town tomorrow night, I might just slip down here and enjoy myself while the fat blind bitch is unconscious. Might screw her arse seeing as this cunt hasn't yet." I felt a pain in my foot and I guessed that he'd kicked me. I lay still and listened. "You are fucking dangerous Sean," said the other voice, "the Mad Professor is one thing but you can't fuck around with these Russians, you saw what they did to that poor kid from Lowestoft." "I ain't fucking scared of them cunts," he laughed, "After ten at night this place is fucking mine for the taking, so is her arse. Now the Professor is just going to be here during the day, and Viktor is off to the whorehouse every fucking night or gets shitfaced on his anti-freeze Vodka, my life is gonna be 'have gas will fuck' mate, easy as that. Annnnnny night I want!" He reached down and lifted the tent flap and I could see him messing around with Emma's bottom. "Both the prof and the Russians are gonna notice the cameras going off and the money not coming in mate, and the amount of gas that gets used." "Yeah right wanker, I got that sussed as well, it ain't just you clever bastards that can fuck around with computers and tellies - you just leave it to me." They walked off and I moved as much as I could to watch, and it paid off. Sean got a torch out of his pocket and I finally saw where the gas tank was, it was behind a tree and in the earth bank, clever! They wandered off back to the yellow cage and via their torch I got my first good look at it. There was a remote control! The cage could be operated by one person, and not from above as I saw the first time. And that one person was going to be coming down here when he felt like it to fuck Emma, or so he thought. The cage went up and I heard the chatter. I had to be quick, the cameras were off and I had little time. Still wearing my oxygen I ran as fast as my lungs would allow to where the gas cylinders were and quickly removed the false tree and loose earth. There was a plywood lid with a rope handle and I pulled it. I could hear them chatting about things up top and hoped that Viktor wasn't sober and watching me do all this, but I hoped he was at his 'whorehouse' or pissed. As I lay looking in the bank with the dying light, I saw a familiar black cylinder marked 'medical gases' and I scrambled in shoulders first. Fortunately the spanner was still there on a string and I turned it full lock several times. After an 'ecstasy of fumbling' (it was gas after all) I had the hose off and I saw several discarded plastic caps designed to stop the fittings collecting moisture or dust so pretty soon one of those was pushed into the business end of the fitting. I Hoped it would fool the equipment into thinking the bottle was still attached. I pushed everything back into place my heart pounding and my sore chest heaving. I ran back to bed, my oxygen barely lasting. I slipped it off, and got back under cover as the last voices could be heard and the now familiar 'see you next Tuesday'. So the Professor was going to be away was he? Viktor would be pissed would he? Tomorrow night would have to be the night. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 04 No sex in this bit - they're too busy... I asked Emma to strip-wash or masturbate herself by the pool again, as there was a job that needed doing with no one watching. Now it was all we had to drink, we could no longer swim or bathe in it. After our lunchtime cuddle she headed for the pool and stripped. The weather was freezing so I had to keep my work to a minimum, but it worked. As she had all those weeks ago, every single camera turned towards her, and dressed completely in the 'real tree' camouflage I crawled to where I wanted to. I made sure I avoided the obvious cameras and was able to do what I needed. I crawled back again, and changed out of the camo and climbed out of our tent stretching. I walked across to the pond and there she was, with her trousers around her ankles she was fingering herself and I sat knelt between her thighs and helped finish her off. We went back to the tent, both feeling the cold and the damp now. I didn't tell Emma of my plans, I wanted her to be as natural as possible, and as the air cooled I piled wood on the fire and on her return we sat snuggly around it, warming Em after her cold masturbation and our faces were illuminated by the fire light, I figured that I didn't need to ration the wood any more after all - tonight it was all or nothing. "Darling Em," I whispered in her ear, "do you trust me?" "Yes," she said looking slightly perturbed. "I've got an idea. Just go with me, and be prepared to run!" She smiled as hopefully as she could manage. "OK Harry, I promise I'll keep up when I have to - I was always taught that, sometimes, a good priest needs faith and fast feet!" "Right!" I kissed her, "when I mention Sean start slagging him off, I'll join in." "OK!" she grinned. "And then into the tent so we can make love," I said, "or at least pretend to." "That I can live with," she grinned back at me. I left it as late as I could, I needed the moonlight yes, but I needed Viktor pissed or out even more. As Emma started to nod against me I opened our box and we finished the last of the cooked rabbit I'd saved; we'd been too ill to shag and not been fed of course. I broke out the dwindling boiled sweets in my tin and we had a couple each, at least there was a bit of a sugar rush we might get. I made some camomile tea, and I started to talk about the dead woman and whether her corpse was affecting the water now we'd had all the rain, and the river must have been blocked downstream. "Talking of dead people, tell me about the late Sean," I said carrying on with presumed dead people. "Sean?" She looked at my face and cottoned on, "Oh, he was a bit odd. I hope he is dead, he was creepy." She shivered, "he used to go on and on about being in the Army reserve and training with the SAS. I wasn't convinced." "Perhaps his SAS training got him out of the hole?" "SAS?" she sniffed contemptuously, "he wasn't that fucking clever." "Yeah, well SAS training in the reserve means something totally different," I laughed, "It means 'Saturdays and Sundays'!" She laughed uproariously, "The bastard tried to rape you didn't he?" "Yeah!" she added a snide laugh. "Arrogant little fuckwit thought he was all that, swift kick in the bollocks taught him all he needed to know." She sat up straight, "he had a feeble little penknife and thought he was some kind of Knight in shining armour." She laughed. I grinned to her, "I expect he had a tiny cock as well." We both laughed. "Yeah, like to see the little cunt come back and try and beat you up now. I was a real soldier, I'd eat the spineless weekend warrior for breakfast and throw him in the pit with all the other shit, fucking weekend warriors." "Oh Harry, you're such a big brave boy!" She waggled across to me on her knees and put her arms around my neck and kissed me. "Tell me you want anal sex..." I whispered, "The final nail in the coffin." She stopped her kissing of me, took just enough time to get it in her head and then hissed 'OK' into my mouth and then, as if resolved to something, "Harry," she said, "Would you... I mean... you see... I've never had a cock... like... in my other hole. You know?" "What," I gulped, "you mean... anal?" "Yeah!" she said wrinkling her nose for added effect, "I'm a virgin back there Harry and I want you to have that one seeing as you never got my pussy virginity." "Oh yeah!" I said, "I'll tell you what, I'll do it tomorrow, that nice moisturiser in your handbag, that will do nicely as a lubricant, but I think it's in your handbag, which is in my car, to dark to go get it now." "OK Harry, you can just fuck me normally then..." she said and we kissed some more She turned on to her hands and knees and I just pulled her sweatpants down to rest midway down her thighs. I slipped my long fingers into her cunt and pumped them at the same time scrubbing at her G-spot and she came in rents. Worst case scenario, at least we'd get fed. "I'm ready Harry," she looked over her shoulder, "take me in the tent Darling," she cooed. Perfect. We got into the tent and pulled down the flap. She lay down and I lay next to her, with my shoes just protruding under the tent. "Oh Harry!" she cried out, "Oh Harry, you're so big, Oh darling, you're a real man!" I moved the tarp sheet a bit to make it look like we were hard at it. I grunted away like the worse kind of porn star until I suggested an almighty orgasm. We lay still for five or six minutes with the oxygen mask between us. I moved the tent slightly so I could see the mirror hidden in the wood pile. I smelled that brief hit of the gas I'd smelled before, obviously what was left in the pipes, and we both took a breath from our dwindling oxygen supply. We lay quietly for a few moments in the darkness, illuminated only by the fading moonlight and our fire. We looked at each other, both holding our breath. On a previous go at this I'd got too cocky and put the mask down to quick and woke up thirty minutes later with the oxygen mask pressing into my face. Fortunately it was a demand feed and I didn't lose all my remaining oxygen. "I'll check," she whispered and took a deep breath. "Em No!" I hissed back, but it was too late. "Makes more sense that I do it Harry," she hissed. I watched. She was fine; my fast and almost blind work had been successful and the gas pipes were empty - part one of Operation 'Get the Fuck out' was successful. I looked down the tent to where Emma's old black shoes were poking out of the tent, just how my feet had appeared. The trap was set. Five minutes passed and the noise of the cage shattered the night. "Stay fast asleep Darling," I said, don't get up until I tell you." I pulled her trousers down exposing her bottom as if I'd just screwed it and the noise stopped. I threw my camouflage jacket to one side of her. She lay there waiting flat on her face and heard the stamping and growling as the now fuming Sean stormed across the Big Brother Hole intent on his revenge - probably on my face and Emma's arse. It was dark and the oxygen tank he carried was clanking. He threw back the tent flap and there was Emma's lovely bottom still on display in the moonlight and I could see his grin. The fact that I wasn't laying on top of her seemed to pass him by. Fired but also blinded by lust he undid his trousers and I could see he had a tube of some kind with him. His trousers hit the floor, next he was on his knees and as he sat back on his heels and uncovered his erection I pushed the barrel of my safely hidden second shotgun at the back of his ear - Emma's afternoon wank had done the job and I'd got it out, put it together, and put 100 cartridges in the camo jacket I'd worn. The shotgun had slid safely into our tent under the leaves and branches that raised us from the floor. "You should have searched the car better Sean," I said, "you missed this one..." he looked to his left at the single barrel of my black Winchester semi-automatic loaded and ready. I noticed that his erection had disappeared. He made to raise his hands. "Don't give me a reason to blow your head off Sean," I said stepping into the firelight, "after a month down here eating only fish, rabbit, dandelions leaves and mushrooms, I'm minded to do all sorts of nasty bloody things to you. Slide out carefully Baby." I said to Emma. Our entrapment of him made him angry and he snarled and made to turn his head, I jabbed the back of his head with the barrel of the gun and he hissed. "Look down Sean, hands between your arse and your thighs there's a good lad." Emma had rolled onto her front and had pulled her legs from under his bunched up trousers. Soon she was rolling out of the other side of the tent. "You cunts," snarled Sean, "Viktor is just up there and you ain't fuckin' going nowhere." I jabbed him with the gun barrel again making his ear lobe bleed. "Yes, and if you so much as sneeze a little loudly I blow your fucking head off, how's that?" Sean snorted and laughed. "Fuck... You..." he snarled again. "Listen cuntface," I snarled back, "what you forget is that the lovely Emma and I have disappeared off of the face of the earth, no one knows we're here. I'm currently working on whether I cut your throat and leave you to bleed out and then do the same to Viktor in his anti-freeze Vodka induced coma up there, or string you both up from your own crane for the Mad Professor to find, what you reckon? You've done such a splendid job in hiding out, who'll know? I can't see your friends from the Russian mafia calling the police to report two dead fuck-ups, can you? Me and Emma go home and tell our families about our lovely holiday in Italy and how we met and fell in love." Emma was out of the tent and stood by me, "Well done Harry," she tiptoed up and kissed my cheek. She was pulling up her trousers, and gave Sean a smile, "Hi Sean, long time no see?" "Bitch!" In a flash he'd pushed the barrel of my gun away and pulled his knife, I guessed from his sock. He struck out at Emma catching her left side and she cried out, falling back. I managed to snatch the trigger somehow and the blast echoed around the hole, the shot hitting the wall of the hole. I swung the butt of the gun around and hit him on the side of the face knocking him flat. I laid into him with the gun stock and my feet such was my rage. "Harry," Em said weakly, "I think..." I spun, and saw that my previously grey hoodie had a growing red patch on the left side, the bastard had stabbed her! I'd gotten too cocky and took my eye of the ball such was my smugness. He was well fed and in better condition than me, and I let my anger out into his face. He fell unconscious and I took the bandage I'd selected from my pocket and tied his hands. I grabbed my medical kit and was straight into paramedic mode and bandaged her side. It appeared to be quite superficial but I knew it would need hospital attention; that was the plan considerably fucked up already. Shit; mind you as Field Marshal Montgomery had so wisely said, 'no plan survives the first encounter with the enemy.' That was bloody true. BUT there was still no sign of Viktor. "Come on baby, let's get you out of here." I walked her across to the yellow cage and there was the remote control plugged in. I sat her down in it and decided I would go and get my bag, my shotgun slung around my neck. "SEAN! SEAN! Wad de fuck," I could hear slurred words, Viktor must have been awake! I had to keep him away from the controls for the cage. "Down here," I said quietly, "Help me..." I hissed. Viktor's head appeared at the edge of the hole. "Sean?" No way was I going to come this far and lose. I hid behind the cage and he leaned over the edge further. "Viktor," I hissed and he leaned out too far and wobbled, so I pulled the trigger twice more and comically the heavily pissed Viktor tried to dodge the blast and escape the shots and overbalanced head first sliding helplessly down the steep slope on the earth bank landing heavily and badly in the loose and soft dark soil he'd brought down with him. He was unconscious - pissed and unconscious to be exact. I went over to check him and found he had cable tie hand cuffs on his belt. So in another straight act of revenge I pulled his hands behind his back and cuffed him. For badness, I did his feet as well, connecting all four of them in the small of his back. I looked on his belt, the Taser wasn't there. Probably up top. I took the last cable tie cuffs and cuffed Sean hands and feet, pulling his lifeless body towards the lift, where Emma was now sat, looking pale but still smiling. I didn't know where we were or what was what and I might need this nasty little bastard - even if I had to torture information out of him. He'd already shown that he had no care or concern for Emma and I; best I reciprocated. "Let's go baby." I said and with a few initial fumblings with the basic controls on the remote we were soon rising out of the Big Brother Hole, hopefully for the last time. I needed both hands to drive the crane and Emma held my gun by the stock. As we came out of the hole, the last rays of the moonlight beamed down and I looked and saw several buildings, piles of junk and a tarmacked roadway leading away. I landed the basket where it must have normally rested and helped Emma from the cage to sit her on of all things a park bench outside of what looked like old military buildings. There was a chink of light coming from the nearest and I made my way to it, entering it at speed, shotgun first through several layers of blackout curtains in case someone was in there waiting for me. No one was. The room lighting was subdued and it glowed with a green tinge from the masses of computer screens. On the counter was my smartphone, plugged into a charger and I picked it up. Such is the way that us twenty-first century people are programmed, I checked the messages. There were several from friends trying to contact me, no signal of course, although the Wi-fi was strong. I came to my senses and decided we needed to get out of here before I contacted the world again. In this room was all of the video equipment they had used to watch us, and mightily clever it looked. I could see how we must have appeared to them and our other viewers. I there was a 'pan, tilt and zoom' controller like on many of the CCTV systems we'd used in guardrooms across the country and on one camera I saw that Viktor was still lying in the mud, a seraphic, pissed look to his ugly face. I switched on the camera on my phone and started to film. On another of the bank of monitors I also saw that Sean was up, and half crawling half hopping but gradually making his way across the compound towards Emma, his hands cuffed behind his back and his feet together. I ran outside and punched him square in his unprotected face before he could even get close. "Going somewhere Sean?" He rolled on his back his face a bloody mess and silently cursing his situation. I gave Em my phone and asked she started to photograph and film stuff, people would never believe us after all, and the flash illuminated the early morning. I looked across the compound and saw the other building. It had to be a guardroom; I'd been to so many army camps in my career and it looked just the same as all of the others I'd been to. "OK Sean, think you should do a little jail time," I kicked him hard in his right thigh, and dragged him by the same foot, hopefully that would have taken the scrap out of that particularly leg. I bumped him up two steps and pushed the door open. I hit the lights and was temporarily blinded but as my eyes adjusted I could see that the place had been used for staff accommodation. There was a kitchen, an office, a large room that would have accommodated the guard each night and there they were. The cells, each had its door and securing handle and there were four of them. Two of the cells were obviously bedrooms now. I dragged him past these and into the first empty one, stepped over him and slammed the door shut. "Cunt!" he screamed after me. I turned the handle and locked the door. I pulled the flap down. "Bye Sean, take care now." "WANKER!!" he screamed, desperately scrabbling to his feet in helpless fury. He shouldered the door in his impotent rage. I ran outside to where Emma was still sat on her bench, the pain showing in her face. "OK baby, let's find a way to get out of here." There were no cars in the compound and I guessed that we'd have heard if there had been. I followed the track somewhat and came across two cars, an old Ford Fiesta and Blue Toyota - with no visible keys in either. I ran back to control room and checked. I guessed that Viktor would have had a car and that his keys were in his pocket at the bottom of the hole. I went back into the cell block, and checked the three bedrooms - nothing. "Car keys Sean," I said through the gap. "FUCK... YOU!" he screamed, FUCK YOU AND YOUR FAT FUCKIN' WHOR..." I slammed his door flap closed against his ranting. "Don't make me come in there you sad little psycho." "COME ON THEN!" he raged from the floor, kicking out at the bed that had been nailed to the floor, probably since World War two. I figured I'd leave him to wear himself out before I fought through his pockets. Shit, we were out of the hole and just as stuck as before. I had a further search but still nothing. The sun was just appearing and I figured that the Professor would soon be along for his daily work, we could have his car. Unless he brought half a dozen Russians with of course. Still not trying not to think about that aspect until I had to, I stepped outside the guardroom and there he was, the same man that was sat next to me so innocently in that Yorkshire café all those weeks ago. Emma's face was paralysed with terror, and he was gently speaking to her and encouraging her to stand, ignoring her pain, weakness, bloodstained hand and clothing. "No dear," I could hear his patronising tone, "you must go back into the laboratory, no... no... I hear what you are saying dear but you absolutely must... no... I'm sorry that you got hurt but if you'd damn well stayed put..." I slipped two more shells into my shotgun and he turned around at the sound. He looked at me; I took a deep breath and stretched to my full six foot four - tall, armed and fucking angry. "Put my girlfriend down," I growled. "Aah Harry," he said taking a step towards me his hands on hips trying the schoolmaster 'do as you're told' approach, "as I was just explaining to Emma here, you must go back down into the laboratory, we still have much to do. What have you done to her, have you hurt her?" "That was Sean when I wouldn't let him rape her." He shook his head in disappointment, "Sean," he hissed, "always Sean... Well," he said perking up, "you are a medical chap, when go back down into the laboratory, you can 'patch her' up as you medics have it." He gave a half smile that showed both his annoyance and his indifference. "Laboratory?" I snarled, "Don't you mean the perverts palace? Or should I change that to torture chamber?" He sighed and looked at me like I was a fucking idiot. "OK," he said, "as a medic I hoped you might at least understand the bare basics of what we are trying to achieve here," he stepped closer to me, but I swung my shiny black shotgun up pointing straight at his chest. "Stay back!" I shouted, my training returning. He moved closer to Em so I moved around to try and put myself between him and her. He noticed and tried to keep pace with me. The bastard wanted to play mind games did he? I could do that. "You have another gun, hmm;" he said to himself almost absent-mindedly, "Sean lets me down again." I guessed he was making mental notes, probably for next time he kidnapped someone. This was soon confirmed. "Can I ask how you got out?" The Big Brother Hole Ch. 04 "Emma's prayers were finally answered, and the Lord God appeared in his fiery chariot and raised us high among the righteous; Viktor was cast down, and Sean was smote - smote like a fucking good'un." "Really," he said folding his arms, and taking a quick step to the left. "Really; please don't try and be clever Professor," I said, "you do anything to threaten me or Emma and I will have no hesitation to start blowing pieces off of you." "Oh, really," he said and took a bold step between me and Emma, and I was ready. I blasted a cartridge just to the right of his head and he must have felt the heat and the blast. I pushed another cartridge into the magazine tube to keep my three shell limit up. "Next time it'll be some other part of you. Now step back." He looked like he wanted to push his luck, but was lacking the last bit of confidence to do so. "Please go back into the laboratory;" he sighed and folded his arms, staring up into space, he looked like he was about to lose his temper. I put another pace closer to Emma. "GO BACK IN THE HO... in the laboratory!" I couldn't guess whether he was going to lose his temper or cry now. "How about 'NO'," I said. "VIKTOR!" he shouted with a hint of smile, looking towards the control room I'd just come from; I didn't turn of course. I knew exactly where Viktor was. He heard nothing back, so tried again, "VIKTOR! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU DAMNED BUFFOON!" "Nope," I said, "but do try for the other member of the Brains Trust." "SEAN!?!" There was a mumbled shout from the guardroom, a kind of "amfookinineeeeer!" sort of noise. "He's fuckin' in there Professor, and I suggest you go join him," I said. He folded his arms petulantly, "No!" he snapped like a spoilt ten year old, "seeing as we are all using that word today." "I'll take one of your kneecaps Professor," I said, "I've already had the discussion with the boy genius in there, I'm minded to chuck you all in the Big Brother Hole and leave you there to rot, same as you did for us." "We did not leave you to rot," he took a pace towards me in temper, "you had running water and access to different types of food that you could..." "Yeah and you only fed us when we had sex, I did notice that." "You didn't seem to mind at the time," he gave a mirthless laugh. "What about the water?" "We lost our mains power," he said, "the generators are only strong enough for the IT equipment and building lights..." "That's how you got dysentery Em," I said, "Seem's you can die of dehydration so long as the Mad Professor here can film it." "We were trying to pay the bill, it was a computer error." He shook his head as if this was none of our business. "In the fucking guard room Professor, NOW!" I snapped at him, bored of his games. "But the experiment!" he pleaded, "There's months of data in there, another few weeks of observations, please." "In the winter? Tell you what Professor, you go down and we'll observe you, show us how easy it is, how well we are looked after. Go on," I indicated to the yellow cage, "in you go, I'll drop you down. It's OK Viktor is already down there, he'll look after you I'm sure." "No..." he stuttered, "no... no... I'm the only one that really understands the concept, pleeeeease!" he turned to Emma in desperation, "You're a Christian, make him see Emma, please make him see!" He clasped his hands in front of him edging closer to her again, "we're soooooo close Emma, this close!" he whispered and pinched his fingers together. I stepped between him and Emma pushing him back several paces with the barrel in his ribs. He raised both hands in supplication, "I'll..." he'd obviously had a great idea, "I'll let you both out in time for Christmas!" he said as if it was a great treat, "Yes! Back to your families in time for Christmas!" He burst out, as if was going to join in the party himself. "Your parents and sister..." He put his hand to his mouth. Emma's face creased at their mention. "You knew about my family?" "Sean," he stuttered, "Sean saw that people were looking for you and we..." "No thanks Professor," she said, "I'll just go home if you don't mind." "I thought..." he snapped, his hopes dashed by her personal betrayal of him, "I thought an intelligent woman like you, a graduate from Oxford no less, would see the societal value of this work! The huge social..." Emma stood up, a look of hatred on her face that I'd never seen before. "Societal value you cunt?!" she snarled at him, specks of angry spit flying from her lips, "prostituting us before the world for the gratification of sick perverts like you and that bastard Sean in there? I'd rather die like Tina did, with honour! You bastard! You think you're an intellectual but you're just another pervert fuck-up like your boy in there." She took a pained breath and sat back down again. "You either know or have forgotten that the Russians run things now, and as soon as Harry and I can no longer perform, they'll kill us both, or you don't care?" he was trying not to make eye contact with her. "You don't do you. DO YOU!" she screamed at him, and he still looked down, knowing his indifference could get him killed now, "No, you'll just grab another couple of poor unfortunate bastards to screw on camera until they starve to death..." he folded his arms, trying to give just enough indifference without me killing him. He stared at the ground like a school boy caught breaking the rules. She shook her head in disgust again, "Ooh just shoot him Harry, then we can go home." She spat at him. This he seemed to fear her more than all of my threats with a gun. He backed away from her - scared now. My turn to play mind games I thought. "Turn around Professor, back of the skull, two shots, you won't feel a thing." All I actually wanted was for him to turn around so I could club him and then tie him up. "No!" he said, "no, my work, it'll all be wasted, I'm the only one that can draw it all together. You say you suffered in my laboratory, well do you want your suffering to be wasted? Let me finish my work please..." "HELLO?" came a rather slurred call; It was Viktor. "Viktor!" shouted the Professor moving towards the edge of the hole, "get up here!" "How de fuck do I do that!" he shouted back. "Stay..." I shouted at the Professor but he had moved closer to the edge and lay down, "Viktor, my boy what has he done to you?" His compassion for his Russian strong arm employee was short lived and in a flash the Professor was back up on his feet and pointing Viktor's Taser at me. "Now," he said triumphantly, "YOU go back in the cage and go down into the laboratory with Viktor." He grinned, his face losing all its previous concern as if he now had the answer to his problems. "No chance," I said watching his face and the muscles in his hand for the first hint of flexation. I sighted the gun to his head. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way Harry," said the Professor with a cool smile I was just dying to wipe off of his face. "I never graduated from Oxford Professor," I said, "I was in the infantry; hard way all the way. Now put the Taser down before I make you." I put finger into the trigger guard - shots were now a real likelihood. "Drop the gun before I make you," he said, but turned as Emma stood, waving Sean's knife around, I didn't even know she'd picked it up! I smiled at her, she grinned back. "We appear to have reached a bit of an impasse Professor..." I saw his arm muscles flex and moved deftly to one side as he tried to keep a bead on me. I reacted on instinct and blasted at the gun in his hand and it flew from him, the two yellow cables part of the red mist, hopelessly damaged, as was his hand now. He dropped to his knees staring at his wrecked hand, "My..." I stepped closer to him and pushed him down to the floor face down. I knelt on his back and I patted him down and found some car keys in his trouser pocket. Result. "Where are Emma's glasses," I snapped at the Professor as I stood up. "I'm not sure," he said rolling over and still staring at his wrecked hand and the tendrils of flesh that hung from it. "Tell me fuck head or so help me I'll blow the other hand off." "For pity's sa..." I'd had enough of his stalling now and lashed out with my foot and caught his wounded hand and he screamed. "Glasses you fucking psycho." "On the table!" he howled nodding his head towards the jail room, "in the guardroom, with Sean's things." I kicked him sharply in the stomach and he curled on the floor, I ran into the room and there was a large in-tray style basket on a wheeled table. There was an SAS survival guide, some of the snare wire, a couple of candles, a match box, and there was a pair of glasses; and still Sean was growling from his cage. "Set me free you cunt!" He yelled, "I'm as much a prisoner as you are! Set me free!" "As soon as the police get here, they'll let you out," I ran out of the room to where the Professor was laying on the floor clutching his hand as the feeling returned after the shock and adrenalin wore off. "Get in there," I said pointing my shotgun at him. "You savage," he snarled at me, "You've ruined years of research, put social psychology back into the dark ages," he tried to roll onto his hips, using his one good hand to prop himself. I took a step back from him. He got to his knees and started to drag himself into the guardroom. "I'm a savage, you're the one that killed a young woman and locked up another for a fucking sick experiment that turned into on-line porn." "IT IS NOT ONLINE PORN!" he shouted, "The Russians are merely making the research available to..." "To any fucker out there with broadband and a credit card... you murdering bastard." I snarled. "And Tina killed herself," he snapped, "it was totally unforeseeable but we've learned so much from it, her death was not..." He looked behind and saw his on-coming incarceration, "No!" said, "The Russians! They'll..." "The Russians will do what Professor? Surely they are just your friends that are making your research more widely available?" "They enabled us to improve our research methods, it was necessary to humour them." He hissed, realising now that he was in the shit and no mistake. "Shame they didn't arrive sooner, Tina might still have been alive." "Her death..." he said looking around at the falling walls of his own personal Jericho. "Her death was in vain you fucking idiot, what have you learned huh? That if you stick a young girl in a hole in the ground with water and inedible food she might kill herself eventually? Rah-fucking-rah you idiot, I could have told you that!" He stood in the doorway of the last cell, Sean started calling him again. "But it was for science!" he screamed as if it was the answer to everything. In fury I punched him square in the face and he flew back into the jail cell, and I slammed the door shut on him. "NOOO!" he roared. I stepped out into the control room and walked to Emma, still sat on the chair holding her side shaking now. I slipped the glasses on her nose, and she looked up and blinked while her eyes refocussed. "Harry!" she beamed at me. "Hi!" "Let's go baby," I said, "Before the Russian Mafioso in the hole finds a way out." I locked the door on the main room and threw my medic bag over my shoulder. I did think of doing something to the Professors wounded hand but then figured, 'fuck 'im, he'll learn a valuable social lesson from it. He was wounded for science after all. The car key I'd taken from him suggested a Citroen. I took Emma's hand and walked her through large earth bunds that must have been there to keep the noise out, and they had done a good job. There was a red soft top Berlingo and it opened to the blipper on the key. I helped Emma into the passenger seat, I asked her to keep taking photographs and film as we left. The track was very long and I began to worry that I'd gone the wrong way. But there was no other way so I just kept on driving. Eventually we got to large metal gate, I desperately hoped it wasn't locked or that the key was on the ring we had. I stopped some distance away from it and taking my shotgun, walked towards it. I walked backwards just in case someone had followed us out. The gate was padlocked shut but the Professor had the key on his bunch and I unlocked and open the gate. I drove the car out, for the first time noticing a gate house almost completely hidden by foliage, I knew that no one could be in there at least. For some reason I went back and locked the place shut again. All the time Emma was filming. The entrance gates had a sign, 'strictly private - no entry under any circumstances' with an added 'no parking - no stopping - no turning' There was even a couple of those hardware store 'I'm on guard here' and 'German Shepherd Dog on patrol' signs with cartoon snarly canines on them. I got back in the car to see Emma with tears pouring down her face, "Get me away Harry, please," she mumbled, "just drive." "Give me my phone," I said, "I'll..." "Just fucking drive!" she screamed. I did. Within minutes I was on an A road with the familiar green signs, and I saw one for Stowmarket. Stowmarket? Fucking STOWMARKET? That was in Suffolk, how the fuck had we ended up in fucking Suffolk from the Yorkshire Dales? "We're in Suffolk honey," I said, "We've been moved some bloody distance and no mistake." There was another sign for Stowmarket, so I headed there. As we entered the town I pulled over to where there was the first fluorescent yellow clad road sweeper of the day. "Nearest hospital mate," I shouted to him. "That way," he said, seeing Emma's bloodstained hand, "drive to the roundabout, it's signposted. There's no A and E but they have ambulances there." "Thanks Mate," I shouted and pulled out, there was almost no traffic that time of day. I drove like I was in my paramedic car and eventually pulled into the grounds and drove up to the two bright yellow ambulances parked there. I flashed my headlights as I approached, and they crews got out. I explained what had happened and this was backed up by our grubby clothes and the pale thin look to our faces. I'd not noticed until I first saw my reflection in the rear view mirror. I called the police from my phone and explained to the 999 operator where I was and what had happened. She sounded startled and gave me a simple, "Stay there, I'll get a team out to you." They did, and the five seconds after she'd said it I heard the whoop of a siren. I had already told the ambulance men I was one of their own and my use of their language about Emma's stab wound and what I had done to it helped to reinforce it and they seemed quite impressed. The Police arrived and approached me slowly but my shotgun was now unloaded and on the back seat. I held my hands up so they could see that I wasn't armed, "OK mate, if we're to believe everything we've heard, you've got a bit of a story to tell us." "Everything you've heard? Check the video," I handed over my phone and pressed the necessary buttons for them. "I don't know where we were or how I got here but you might recognise something on the route we took. The two officers stared at it in shock as Emma had filmed our home for the last month and our escape. I could hear familiar shouts and a few shots. "Christ..." said the first. "What the fuck?" said the second. "That's the old RAF Littlehurst site," said the first, "used to play in there when I was a kid. Was sold off back in the spring, they're gonna build a TV studio there." "Yeah," I added, "that bloke there," I pointed at the screen, "He kind of did and Reverend Emma Rogers in the ambulance there has been imprisoned in it since late June. Me since mid-September." They both looked shocked. The ambulance man said that we really needed to go to the hospital now. He looked me up and down. "And if you'll take my advice mate, you should get checked over too." I jumped in the back of the ambulance and said that I'd be at the hospital. They followed and called up for more support including some armed response and I sat in the speeding ambulance holding Emma's hand until we reached the accident and emergency department some distance away. Once there, I walked alongside Emma's trolley, still holding her hand. Her gorgeous face looked happy under her oxygen mask but she was also fighting to stay conscious. We were taken straight through and a nurse looked at me, my pale shocked face and sat me down. I ceased to be the rescuer and became another patient. Some Doctors appeared and demanded to know what we'd been up to. I told them; the kidnappings, the imprisonment, the poor diet, the cold, the damp, her upset stomach and finally being stabbed as we escaped. I even mentioned the Russian mafia. We showed them the pictures on my phone and were taken to a private room. The one policeman had been joined by two more, one of them a sergeant and they all made frantic notes and recorded our details, stepping outside of the cubicle to talk into radios. The walk to the private room really seemed to take it out of me, and I was helped from my seat and on to another trolley and my adrenaline and strength finally gave out. When my head touched the pillow, the rest of me gave up and I slipped into unconsciousness. While I was out they took my blood pressure, took a blood test, swabbed, swiped and one of those tiny wrist band put on - I was well taken care of. While I slept and Emma was prepared for surgery, several armed response teams prepared to enter the Big Brother Hole, guided by a remotely operated drone. They entered the site in their cars where they found the Mad Professor, Sean and Viktor just where we'd left them. An ambulance was called for the Mad Professor, and more police officers, including an assistant chief constable. All before nine thirty. It turned out that the Mad Professor was one Doctor Jeremy Peskett-Jones, who was a Doctor by virtue of his PhD in social psychology but little else. He had been left lots of money by his late mother, a consultant psychiatrist from a very well to do family. She had written several books on the subject and was one of the most highly respected specialists in her field. She had been the Home Office specialist psychiatrist working on some very high profile cases before trials and then within prisons and young Jeremy felt he should take up his mother's fallen mantle and continue her work with the incarcerated. It was later speculated that 'Mother' might have done some experiments on him as he was definitely odd. His masters at Eton, his college lecturers and his tutor had all commented on his 'distraction' and how this strange loner was totally focussed on himself and his own needs rather than the rest of the world. His first couple of PhD thesis suggestions had been a bit worrying, they said, if not actually illegal. He stayed in education for as long as he could and right up to his eventual, and to his advanced thinking 'grossly watered down to the point of meaninglessness', PhD. He could not get a teaching position or Professorship at any college in Cambridge; he even tried the poorer cousins down in Oxford but the age of the slightly potty career academic was almost over, even for Oxbridge. An old friend had suggested checking in the Times Educational supplement for teaching jobs, but he said he'd rather wash up in a back street kitchen than teach in a 'Red Brick'. Denied the opportunity to spread his wisdom through education he decided he would make his mark and carry on his mother's work; but not having her education, qualifications, contacts or charm he'd been turned down by the prison service - even the private ones - and then the NHS and felt belittled. He'd show them. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 04 He'd come up with a plan to look at the human mind under the pressure of loneliness, something he was quite familiar with, and began to conjure up scenarios he'd considered and had thrown back in his face three years ago and of how he could create the exact conditions he needed for his experiment. When the police raided his London flat or his 'rooms' as he alluded to them, they found pages of plans. As a one-time Cambridge Student, he figured that the fens would be ideal for his experiment but try as he might he couldn't secure enough land at the right price for his purpose. He headed further south into Suffolk and found some former Ministry of Defence land which was ideal for his purpose. The land contained some original buildings with original fittings. He had bunkers, a guardroom with cells, a medical building, and an operations room. He rented the place unseen. He moved in the day he paid the first instalment on the lease saying he was in the television industry making a new reality TV game show. The estate agent was only too pleased to get shot of this white elephant of a site and he managed to get this very pale looking chap to sign a lease for two years, and it was watertight; this was a coup and he couldn't wait to tell his boss he shifted 'that bloody place' with its buildings lagged and lined with asbestos and all sorted of nasty things possibly buried there. The large bunkers he had removed at great expense, employing contractors from many miles away, paying cash with no paperwork just in case his leased World War Two/Cold War complex had listed building status; he didn't know, he didn't care, he had a mission. Much as he thought the bunkers might have made a good labyrinth he just could not envisage his captives believing what he needed them to believe for the validity of his experiment. Once removed he found he was left with a large hole, and it was perfect beyond his dreams of high fences. His contractors totally believed that he was going to be filming a game show there, and built the site to his very definite specifications, the signed a non-disclosure agreement he found on the internet and all was set. They imported tonnes of soil and packed and supported it as he wanted it. The installed the stream with a silent pump, filter and solar purifier with an option to release small to medium size fish into it at a certain point. Across the site, dozens of cameras went into the trees and a system that meant they could turn on smoke as and when they wanted it. This was also adaptable for anaesthetic gas which would be a major part of his plan. His mother had died quite suddenly and when he checked her office and her papers he found some interesting websites, order forms and paper work. Switching on her computer he found the websites she had ordered supplies from and using her credit card, he was able to order virtually anything else. Her prescription pad was also quite useful. There first experiment with the gas resulted in their first prisoner suffocating in her sleep as the gas was too heavy and they used too much. She was one Mary Connor and had been lured from a local Irish traveller site by Sean with the promise of untold riches in the Mad Professor's house that she could steal. The old boy was nutty as a fruitcake and she could virtually help herself once she was through the door. She'd been drugged with Rohipnol in her Vodka the same evening and then dropped in the hole. She woke with a headache the next morning and wandered around the Big Brother Hole calling out all day. The Professor was keen to see what she would do with a rabbit and prepared to put a couple in with her. The Professor had worked extremely hard on a way to put fish in the stream but hadn't for the rabbits. "Gas 'er," said Sean simply. Sadly she died the first time they tried the anaesthetic and was buried by Sean in the massive woods surrounding the Hole. Sean had worked on site from the beginning and just wouldn't go away. He hung around even though the Professor had asked him not to. But soon it became evident that he had just the right attitude. He would do precisely what the Professor wanted for precisely the right amount of money. He was enough of a sadist to revel in watching the prisoners, especially the female ones, suffering without wanting to report it, and would spend all of his waking hours sat in front of the video screens following them around and catching that suffering from different angles. Tina, full name Tina Chappell, a poor unfortunate 21 year old kidnapped from her work as a cleaner in a Norwich office block by Sean who followed her in one morning and started to clean just as she was. He made her a coffee, and that was that. She was dropped into the hole via the crane. Fish were released and rabbits stuffed into the snares but poor Tina was a twenty first century girl and had no clue on what to do with this kind of food. She cried when she found the rabbits, and stroked them thinking of the chinchilla she had at home and her year old daughter she'd bought it for. She wept, more and using her hands buried what was her sustenance for two days. The Professor watched with interest as she personified her food source, he stood in his silent control room making notes on the amount of time Tina would scream herself hoarse begging for release from the nightmare. The earth bunds to absorb noise from inside as well as out were perfect. She'd dug at the walls and they just fell in on her. She was totally unsuitable for the research and the Professor struggled with how they might train her and not lose the integrity of his research. Sean suggested that perhaps they should drop her off some matches and a knife and this made sense to him. She had never lit a fire in her life and other than some charred logs the matches were all used trying to get some heat in her cold springtime home. Crying herself to sleep she prayed long and loudly for rescue, shivering in the damp April chill. The Professor was intrigued and thought how sad it was that contemporary humans were unable to survive and do the simplest tasks and turned to a God none of them truly believed in almost instantly. He noted in his diary that she was had the knife and was cutting up the next rabbit Sean had put in the snare for her, and he guessed that she would eat it raw. She had been in the hole for eleven days by now. It wasn't until mid-morning the next day that he noticed that she hadn't moved. What he'd taken for the rabbit being cut was actually her slitting her wrists and she must have bled out sometime in the freezing night, hugging the soft cold rabbit to her as comfort as her life ebbed from her. The Professor was most annoyed at this girl's cowardice and how his work was set back AGAIN, and blamed Sean's interference for this setback in the research. The body was brought out and the damage to the walls repaired and Tina placed into the cold room in the medical centre. He decided that soft Home Counties women were not cut out for his experiment and he should pick stronger women for his subject altogether. His tiny mind picked on northern, specifically Yorkshire women after watching how strong they were in some of his mother's favourite DVD's on her shelves - 'Emmerdale', 'Last of the summer wine' and 'All creatures great and small'. If the TV and popular culture were to be believed Yorkshire women would be more hardy against the cold and able to light fires, deal with the animals he'd purchased for food and generally have the frame of mind to survive the ordeal. He and Sean travelled up the M1 and A1 seeing a stocky no-nonsense looking woman on her own in a petrol station. She made things easy for them had put cash into the coffee machine in the petrol station entrance and again Sean made use of Rohipnol as the Professor bumped into her making her drop the birthday card she'd just bought. The Professor chatted with her and saw her to her car and she got further and further down her coffee cup and within twenty minutes they were driving their car and hers back down the motorway. Her car had been hidden under a blue plastic tarpaulin in the yard had I only searched a little harder the day we escaped. She was kept out cold while the Professor and Sean lowered her into the hole. To the Professors disgust it turned out that this wasn't a tough Yorkshire woman like on TV but was an imported bloody priest from the South of England. Again he cursed Sean, they had gone to a ton of trouble and he was disgusted that bumpkin Sean didn't know a Yorkshire accent from a southern one and all that effort was wasted. Sean said he would go down into the hole and kill her and they could go back to Yorkshire and get another one. The Professor was enough of a Christian to know that this was wrong and baulked at this idea and said that Sean would jolly well go down into the hole and teach this priest what to do to stay alive. Sean took a crash course with his SAS survival manual and two nights later the gas was released and the Professor lowered the crane into the hole with Sean's motorbike. He met up with the pretty priest and said that he'd lost control of his motorbike and woke up in the hole. She was friendly and really pleased to see him. He seemed not to want to escape, and convinced her there was no way out. She asked him how he knew that. He snarled and hit her for the first time. The sadist wasn't going to take that from a priest. He set the snares from wire 'he happened to have in his pocket' and built fish traps to stop the farmed trout they bought and released into the stream. He started the fire and showed her how it was to be kept going. He walked her around and told her what green leaves she could eat then built a shelter and invited the priest into it and she thanked him. He cooked a rabbit for her and later that night felt she should reciprocate physically. Not having any experience with women he tried to bring the conversation around to sex. She didn't respond and started to feel a little nervous about this strange man who seemed to know just too much about this place and survival. After two nights of patiently waiting for her to put out (at least he felt he'd been patient) and ended up attacking her and she kicked him squarely in the testicles and he beat her for it. The Professor, watching the whole thing on the cameras, flooded the hole with gas and they both passed out. Sean came round first and took Emma's glasses out of spite having seen how short sighted she was when he showed her how to light a fire with them. He knew that the Professor was annoyed with him and left him there to teach him a lesson, so he just hung around the Hole tormenting her and looking for a time when he could have his revenge. Two nights later he was lifted out - by the new management of the hole. He had purchased the Rohipnol through local drug dealers and they had taken a liking to this strange show-off giving him access to one of their slave girl prostitutes and their locally brewed vodka. The more pissed he got and the more women around him bolstered his self-esteem and much as he knew it had to be secret, he gradually told them the Professor's plan. They weren't just ordinary drug dealers of course, they were hard faced Russian mafia who saw the financial benefits of the project, namely selling the video of what was going on in the hole and exploiting this pair of lunatics in the way that the Mafia always had. They'd followed Sean who'd already briefed them about the Mad Professor and they played along, talking about his ground-breaking concept and the value it would show to the wider world. The Professor was charmed by them and agreed, especially when they reached for their cheque books. He was gradually running out of Mummy's money and his project was in danger of closing down. They were using the anaesthetic gas at almost two canisters a week and no small practice or even dentist used gas to that extent. They provided better recording and IT equipment for the scheme and initially the Professor was pleased with the increased financing of something he still considered a science experiment as his mother's money had almost all gone. Their new kit was broadcast quality and beamed the images to a satellite they'd rented to send pictures to the sociology department in Moscow - this was going to be a bargain and make him internationally famous. But he couldn't find them name of the university it was supposed to be going to; but it was all aiding his scientific research and would put him up there with his mother - higher even! The Russians told Sean to 'help the fat incumbent of the hole to lose weight' and Emma's strange diet began. She would go days without food, and she noticed that her periods had stopped. Once she had slimmed down the Russians suggested that a man should be thrown in to liven up the viewing experience. The Professor argued that it wasn't about the viewers but the social psychology. "Yeah right," said the Mafia, and promptly ignored him. Two weeks later a young man from Lowestoft was kidnapped off of the street by the Russians and brought to the site. The Professor knew nothing about it, and argued that he would remember being kidnapped and would tell the woman and the whole precept of the woman not knowing what was going on would be lost. Sean explained it to them using smaller words; aah... the Russians hadn't thought of that so to get back on track, the young man was smothered in the boot of the car he'd been brought in, taken back to Lowestoft and dumped in the sea wrapped in an old carpet. Sean realised things were too big now and tried to escape and was caught and brought back and threatened with dire warnings should he run again. Mind you, the Russian Mafioso soon had the measure of Sean and he quickly won his loyalty through the increase in wages. He convinced the Russians to let him and the Professor seek the next victim. The Russians liked this, the less input they had the better it was, so far nothing in the UK had any connection to them. Sean would have to be quick though, the Russians wanted some return on their investment. Five weeks later the Professor jumped in his mother's red Citroen and they headed back to Yorkshire, the Professor still wanted some tough northerners in the experiment. I was kidnapped from another Yorkshire Service station and dropped in the hole with my car and my nightmare began. I woke up from it two hours later on my hospital trolley, lost for a moment and a smiling nurse came over and asked if I was OK. I shook my head and tried to work out where I was, and for a moment wondered why I, the ambulance man was on the bed this time. The nurse put a hand on mine asked if I was hungry. I admitted that I was and she smiled, went off and returned with a white china mug and a triangular package. So I had my first sandwich and a cup of tea. The sandwich was an ordinary, boring, coronation chicken sandwich that I'd taken for granted for so many years. It was heaven and the nurse giggled as I crooned over it. My taste buds had tasted nothing this interesting in over a month and I explained that. The nurse was so impressed that she went to her locker and came back with a large bag of cheese and onion crisps. I asked her to marry me, only once I'd seen that she had a thick wedding band on. Thirty minutes later I was taken to sleeping Emma's bedside by a very twitchy police officer and then told we both needed to be careful as this was the Russian Mafia we had upset. I asked if I could stay by Emma's bed that night, knowing what she would be like if she woke suddenly. The room was warm, I'd had several cups of tea and that point could have slept through an air raid. A doctor had suggested that I needed a night's sleep myself and that the police would put me up in a nearby hotel. I said no, sat in the comfy chair by the side of her bed while she recovered from her surgery. A nurse put a blanket across me, at some stage and there was a mug of tea. It was shortly after four in the morning when I was woken by the nurse, "This is Harry," whispered the nurse and I heard a cup being put on the table by Emma's bed, "you just have to meet him..." Next there was a hand on my shoulder and another on my cheek. "Harry?" whispered another female voice, and through half opened eyes I looked at a face that could have been Emma. This was her Mum who along with her Dad had driven through the night to be at her side. I tried to stand, but was 'shushed' back into my seat by her Dad. I sipped my tea and spoke quietly with them and brought them up to date with what I knew and they told me about their side of the hunt for their daughter. Emma had been reported as missing all of those months ago and was last seen on some rather grainy CCTV at the petrol station with a big smile on her face and buying the birthday card she was on her way to deliver. To confuse things Sean had covered her number plates with those from his broken down car at the yard. His was a Ford XR2 while hers was a Focus. Nothing peculiar for the motorway cameras to see. The Police missing person report had not been taken that seriously at first; she was a rather bookish, prim, wrong-side-of-29 year old that might just have decided that being a spinster vicar in Yorkshire wasn't for her and could just have driven somewhere for the high life. Her mobile phone went unanswered, it was switched off and in her car where she'd put it down while she sipped her coffee chatting with the rather nice older chap that had seen her to her car after almost knocking her over in the service station. Mum Charlotte, Dad Tom and Sister Ann had started an on-line search for her bringing in support from the church at all levels, everyone knew Emma and knew that she was far from the kind of person that would just take off and disappear from the face of the earth. Only one person made a connection. He'd read of the still missing priest from Yorkshire and seen her photo in the e-newsletter he'd read. Later that night, he'd seen a short video clip of a naked red haired girl with the self-same smile giving a tall man a blow job as he stood against a car on its side and thought how much she looked like the priest. The girl giving the blow job looked much too happy doing what she was doing so he never contacted anyone. Besides, there was no way he could explain to the rest of the world why he was watching pay per view porn adverts on his home laptop. He sent an anonymous email two days before we escaped. Stowmarket Police had never had one as weird as this and even off duty detectives came in to see what was going on. One of them googled 'Reverend Emma Rogers' and was taken straight to the website. He phoned the mobile number they'd bought especially and spoke to her Mum and Dad and told them that Emma was alive, wounded but the surgeon said she would make a full recovery and advised both of the Wiltshire GP's stay at home for that evening and come bright and early the next morning when Emma would be in a much better condition to welcome them herself. They tried to do that, but at a little after midnight and both wide awake jumped in their car and drove to Ipswich. Despite their insistence I stood and welcomed them. The nurse took us to a small family room and made tea for all three of us. They had already been told by the police what had happened to their daughter. "You brought her out," said Tom, with a choke in his voice. "Both of us sir," I said, "Team effort all the way, I couldn't have done it without her". I'm not sure why I called him 'sir' but it seemed like the right thing to do. I knew I wanted to remain in her life, being friends with her parents couldn't do any harm. And after all, I had just spent the best part of a month living with and making love to their daughter. I think her Mum might have guessed though; when I spoke of 'Em' she beamed at me, and however much I tried to hide it, it must have been obvious to her what we had been to each other. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 05 The closing chapter, kinda long with but all the love-making that was missing in the last chapter... ***** I arrived at Stowmarket Police Station as the place was coming to life, and my concerns were soon put to rest. Why they couldn't have done that in the corridor when her parents were watching I'll never fucking know... They told me what had happened the previous day and where they were in the investigation. Thanks to the video on my phone and their own local knowledge, the police had been able to find the site of the Big Brother Hole quite easily. They unlocked the gate, drove in, and locked the gate again, leaving a pair of officers in and unmarked car across the road in a layby. Unmarked the car may have been, but the officers had loaded MP%'s across their laps, just in case the Russians came back to check things. The Professor and Sean were locked in their guardroom cells still, the Professor was quite ill through his loss of blood and shock mind you. Viktor was still in the Big Brother Hole suffering from blue hands and feet where I had perhaps over-tightened the cable tie hand cuffs he was wearing. Nasty ol' me, I'm so ashamed of myself... The police brought firearms units, I had talked about the Russian mafia after all, but more importantly the assistant chief constable brought an IT team. They seized all of the hard drives and the plans of the hole. This represented freedom for me and some explaining for the hundreds of Brits that had 'paid to view' whose card details were safely recorded for the detectives to unravel and find. The Professor lay in a hospital bed not two floors away from where Emma had been sleeping and complained long and loudly about me and how I had crippled him. Seeing an opportunity for revenge, or mischief at the very least, he told the police officer at his bedside, and anyone that would listen, that the savage that had blasted his hand to bits was part of the whole thing. The nurses on his ward had not yet met Emma or me or heard our strange story and had some real, if only temporary, sympathy for the strange chap that had been brought in to accident and emergency with a badly blasted hand. He went on to say that the young man, Harry he thought his name was, had been brought in at the last minute and had emailed to the Russians after seeing Emma on the internet. He'd shot the poor Professor, who was a virtual prisoner himself, because he was told he couldn't have sex with the poor young woman who had been so happy in the laboratory. He'd begged the mad man not to shoot him, on his knees and everything... Fortunately for me everything had been filmed. This included me laying back against my seat and falling asleep in my car as the Rohipnol took effect. The police had everything, dated and timed and all studiously recorded in the professor's notebooks to add weight to his research. The police kept me in a room while I was interviewed regarding the assault. I had of course gone quietly so wasn't handcuffed as I expected to be and the two detectives chatted to me about my ordeal and our escape during our short drive. At the police station I met and shook hands with the detective chief inspector who smiled at me, offered me a seat in the interview room, set the cameras to record the interview and then said he wanted to question me regarding an allegation of assault with an offensive weapon and told me that I did not have to say anything but that it might harm my defence if I did not mention when questioned something I later relied on in court. I was handed a mug of coffee and proceeded to explain everything that had happened during my imprisonment. I couldn't tell him about my kidnapping as I had, and still have, no memory of it. He asked about my relationship with Emma and I confirmed that we had become close in our prison and yes we had started a relationship down there. I knew what Emma would say but got the feeling that her Dad Tom had real issues with me. "OK," said the policeman, "thank you very much Mr Scholes, we have everything we need and I'm terminating this interview at..." he looked at his watch, "1330." The detective smiled, "That was great Harry," he said, I spent much of this morning watching videos and you have confirmed everything I saw on the playback that I personally downloaded." He stood up, "I'll get you another coffee and ring the Crown prosecutor and get things sorted. "Here," he said, "watch this." He lifted up a laptop and clicked several mouse buttons and turned the screen to face me. There I was, in a rather grainy black and white that faded to colour as the sun came up. There was the Professor trying to cajole us back into the hole, his pleading, ranting, right up to his dramatic fall and his triumph as he raised the discarded Taser gun and had pointed it at me. My shouted warning was heard and the Professor's sneer and the flexing of his arm all showed wonderfully on the tape. The detective sergeant came back and said that following discussion with the Crown Prosecution Service it was decided that I was acting in self-defence, and had displayed much control by just going for the Taser and not centre body mass as my military training would have suggested. In fact the CPS barrister said that he was surprised I hadn't blown the man's head off in payback for what I'd suffered. The police officers all treated me very nicely but it was clear that for some of them, my porn star status was evident and some of them had probably watched the videos. There were knowing smiles from them, which I got the feeling I probably shouldn't have known about. The Chief Inspector found me before I left. He was very positive and said that there was nothing to link us to the Mafia or them to us; we hadn't upset the mafia as had been suggested, Sean and the Professor had mind you. Sean had turned off the satellite feed and switched over to another recording of us making love a couple of evenings before to hide his attempt at raping Emma, but that clip only lasted forty minutes, and then went on to replay for the rest of the day until the whole thing was disconnected by the Police. He still recommended we kept our heads down for a few days just in case. I was taken back to Ipswich and dropped at the hospital later that afternoon. It turned out that Emma had regained consciousness and had been released back into the care of her parents and elder sister who'd now arrived, all three of them doctors. I asked if they had left a number and the nurse looked very apologetic and said she had nothing, but her body language and facial expression spoke volumes. I knew Emma would have wanted to, but that look I kept getting from her father was enough. Through one of the policemen still at the hospital I contacted the chief inspector who confirmed what the nurse had said and that much as he'd like to, he didn't have a number that he was allowed to give me. I asked him if I could get some of my stuff back from the site. He said that much of it was being checked for forensic evidence and I'd get it back as soon as possible. I was now a free man, and didn't know what to do. Seeing as I was still technically their patient I used a shower and borrowed a green 'scrubs' shirt to go under my borrowed hunting jacket I was still wearing. I figured I'd have to replace it and the trousers seeing the action they'd had in the last month. My blue jeans were filthy and even I could smell them. I'd washed them during our hot week but they had suffered after that time. For some reason I'd kept my wallet and my keys in my jeans - part of my OCD I suppose - and once showered and signed off with some medical advice I begged a lift to the nearest Asda Wallmart and bought myself a new outfit. The checkout girl did look at me a bit old fashioned, and checked my debit card with care. Seeing how suspicious I looked in one of their mirrors I dug out my driving licence and showed her my picture. "It's a very long story honey," I said, and she appeared satisfied that I wasn't a tramp that had stolen it, she gave me a carrier bag and I stuffed everything else bar my coat into it after changing in the changing rooms. I stepped out into the town centre with one desire to get home. I asked for directions to the railway station and was told it was a ten minute walk. I was outrageously tired, more so than I could ever remember, but my under-stimulated brain just soaked up the noise, people and the lights. So it was a slow walk to the railway station and next step home; at least now I didn't look like I was a rough sleeper and my card was accepted more readily. At the station I bought my first proper coffee and was so impressed with the expresso I downed almost in one, I got a huge latte for the rest of the trip. I was woken up by the guard as the train pulled into Liverpool Street just over an hour later, and I hit the underground. From here I operated on autopilot and at a few minutes after nine and let myself in past the pile of mail. I'd bought some fresh milk from the 7-11 and rinsed out the kettle and refilled it. I had the usual pile of junk mail, and a postcard from some mates at work. I had no mobile phone - Suffolk Police were still downloading evidence from it. I hadn't bothered to get a phone line installed in my flat, so to get me back in contact with the rest of the world I plugged in my laptop and started to email people starting with my boss at London Ambulance. "Dear Dave," I started typing, "You aren't going to quite believe this but..." I had a sick note from Ipswich Hospital, and while the Doctor said I had taken surprisingly little harm from my month in the hole, he felt that I would benefit from a fortnight at home to rest and recuperate and put some weight on and slowly rebuild some muscle. I told my boss when I was due back, and gave him the name of the Chief Inspector at Stowmarket Police station who could corroborate everything I'd said. I walked to a nearby chip shop as he was closing and bought a huge bag of chips and battered sausages - I figured I didn't want to eat that much fish for a while - and started putting my weight back on straight away. In my large armchair I sat and watched the late night film with a large mug of Earl Grey Tea. My mind went back to that evening I'd done the same thing with my Dad that seemed a whole lifetime ago. The trees outside blew around the street light throwing shadows across my living room and I realised that I was back home, safe, warm, well-fed and clean in my first change of clothes in five weeks; but after a couple of hours I would have given it all up just to be back with Emma in my arms, watching our fire burn and stoking it before we pulled the tent flap down and fell asleep holding each-other. I woke up in my chair with the TV playing to itself at three AM and I felt lonelier than I had since that night Mum left me on my own as an eight year boy to start her new life, knowing that Dad would not be back for the longest and scariest hour of my life. I woke the next morning, and my email and Facebook page had gone mad. The police had wanted to stay on top of the story so that they might get some of the others involved. But with the various police officers, doctors and nurse and the straight fucking weirdness of the story of the imprisoned priest and the medic had got out and had hit the papers. The Police released basic details of what had happened with photos of the Big Brother Hole. They also hinted at the fact that video and pictures of us had sold across the internet. Some of the more gutter tabloids had spent hours and tens of thousands of pounds to buy some and included some rather grainy pictures of us naked in the pool with our faces blocked out, and there was the website that Emma's family had set up. It played a recorded message said that the family were overjoyed to announce that Emma had been returned to them, but the number would be taken down at mid-day because of the number of trolls that had left abusive messages on it. The website was taken down later that day for the same reason. There was a photo of her, looking chubbier in the face with a bobbed haircut, just as gorgeous as I'd seen her the last time, as far as I was concerned, but my last link to Emma was cut off. After a few days the press found my address and my door was being repeatedly knocked and eventually a police officer was put there. I emailed Suffolk police and asked if I could have my phone back or could they put it beyond use so I could get a replacement. I ordered another online giving them a credit card number until I could find some way of recovering the cost of it. I rang my motor insurance company and explained who I was and they very sweetly put me off saying that while this was not my fault, there was no clear line of blame until the court case had taken place. I found my push bike in my nearby garage, and cycled wherever I needed to go. My boss and our area chief came round to my house and said that for the time being I should not return to work. They would continue to pay me of course and I was left with a card for the employee helpline the firm had bought into. My new mobile phone arrived and I plugged it in to my laptop and downloaded my address book. I came to life and I found the twenty five answer phone messages from the boss and some mates. My email had similar 'where are you' messages from them. A day or so later I was physically rested but not sleeping well. My clothes fitted me better after my month of starvation but I did not feel that I fitted in my life anymore. I rang the Detective Chief Inspector again and asked for a contact number for Emma, or for a message to be passed to her. The inspector said he was not able to give me her number but said he would contact her parents and ask that the message was passed on - again. The next day I heard nothing, even though the detective assured me that he would contact them straight after putting the phone down with me. The following day my new phone rang and I snatched it up. "Hello Harry?" said the male voice. "Yes," I said, "Tom?" "Yes mate," he said his voice tailing off at the end. "Emma," I said, "Is... is she OK?" "Yes," he said, "She's fine, she's here at home, resting." He emphasised 'here at home', and I got the feeling that 'home' was special and I didn't have an invitation. How are you Harry?" he asked. "I'm fine, it's all gone a bit mad, and I have journalists camped at my door. You?" "Yes, all pretty much the same, but the village has put the word out and the hacks are getting nothing from anyone around here but requests to move on and slammed doors." "I don't know that many people round here to be honest," I said, "but the police are guarding me for the time being." "Excellent," he said, "Well Harry, I must be..." "Emma," I said quickly. "Yes?" "Could I talk to her?" Before I'd even finished saying it I knew what his answer was going to be and I knew how lame I must have sounded. "Err..." he said, turning on a 'parent' voice he'd probably never needed to use before, "Noooo," he dragged out the answer, "Both her mother and I have discussed it and we don't think it will be such a good idea..." he took a deep breath and steeled himself, "we don't think that you should talk to Emma for a while. At least until after she gets her head straight again - after this ordeal." He coughed as if to bolster his courage, "and until the police have finished their investigations of course." I bit at that, and probably shouldn't have, "I was nothing to do with it Tom," I said, "I've been exoner..." "She's changed Harry, and I... we're not sure if it's for the better. Once we've decided..." I tried to interrupt but he was obviously into his prepared speech and wasn't going to be stopped, "No Harry, once we've decided that she's back to normal then we can have this discussion again." "Will you at least give..." "I said we are waiting until she's fully recovered! Goodbye Harry!" He disconnected the call. Shit. That was that. I had no other form of contact for her short of going to Salisbury and checking every Doctors surgery for two Doctor Rogers and I got the feeling that they would get all legal on me. I was stuck. Not only was I stuck, while looking on the internet I read the Daily Mail account of our ordeal and escape, and that Emma was recovering well and looking forward to a long-awaited meeting with her 'old friend' Dr Nathaniel Draycott, Chaplin of Keeble College, Oxford who had been a key part of the group that fought so long to find her and keep up interest with the police to maintain the search. While saying nothing, the suggestion was that now free she was waiting to fall back into the loving Christian arms of her faithful patient beau, and not the 'ambulance driver' she was thrown together with against her will. Well, that's how I read it. Fuck; Mum and Dad wanted her back in the hands of Reverend Nathaniel, the 'safe-priest-old-friend' and hopefully forget the nasty ex-soldier ambulance man who was probably part of the whole thing anyway. I was down, way down, and I had no support network around me. No family, not allowed to go to work and talk to my mates there, lots of social media chat with mates from all across my world, but I kind of got the feeling that now I was back in the world I was a bit of a laughing stock because of my porn star status. My mate that I was supposed to go shooting with had been told by his employer that I wasn't to come anywhere near the estate for the time being as some of his clients wouldn't want to be associated with 'someone like that'. The online trolling had started as well and there were some nasty comments on some of the ex-service websites and groups that said what a lucky bastard I'd been and it was obvious why I'd not been in a rush to get out; I fumed, like I had any fucking option. Others, including some on my regiments' Facebook page, had pondered how a God fearing and honourable former member of the regiment like me should have fought my way out or died trying rather than submit to what we did. The media was full of comment of course, after all the court case was yet to come and people wrote that we were far too convincing and surely we were part of it. That element didn't stop until everything came out in the trial and the three people that had died already were mentioned and the BBC were allowed to show their video of the Big Brother Hole, the journalist digging at the soft earth sides and the crane and finally the scale of thing was seen for what it was. I closed my Facebook account for the time being and kept Google for shopping and ordering pizza. I rang my Grandpa; I hadn't wanted to bother him with all my shit, he was in early seventies but still quite hale and hearty and I didn't want to worry him. I hoped he wouldn't connect me with the story but of course he had. I rang him every three or four months anyway and generally arranged to buy him a pint in his local the following Saturday, but he didn't have my number. "So Harry, you get kidnapped, escape, fall in love and you can't even ring your old Gramps and let him know?" "Sorry Gramps, I've been real busy, only just got my phone back and i had to turn my house upside down to find your number, it was on my other phone that the police have still got." I started to tell him what had happened, and he said simply, "Tomorrow evenin' boy," he said, "The Marquis of Granby, usual time," you can give me the full SP mate". "Night Gramps," I said, feeling some kind of comfort for the first time since I'd left the Hole. The next evening, followed by a couple of Journo's I got on the underground; the police kept the Journo's back until I was on the tube. The Big Brother Hole Ch. 05 I headed across to his local that we normally met in; he was stood outside waiting for me. "We'll do a different pub tonight mate," he said, "At least two people have asked me if I'd seen you since you escaped, let's go somewhere they don't know us." In the end we did the local Indian restaurant and we shared some curries and some sides while I told him what I could remember. "And you've still not heard from your girl?" "No Gramps, it's tearing me up." "Life is way too fucking short mate, see your Nan right, she has Alzheimer's and I lose a bit more of her every day." He picked up a piece of Naan bread that he dipped into the sauce on his plate, "She ain't never been perfect but I've valued every single day with her, and I do now." He picked up his beer bottle and touched mine with it, "if you've found someone that special you make sure you bloody find her again. You do everything you can," I went to interrupt, "EVERYTHING," he said over me, "You hear? You found the girl you want to spend the rest of your life with?" "Yes Gramps." "Go start your bloody life then Dickhead," he pushed the last of the naan bread into his mouth and grinned, "two more beers here please," he called to the circling waiter. I sat on my sofa the next night fighting off one of those black mood of desperation and I thought about that 'everything?' my Gramps had thrown at me. I had to problem solve it, had I really tried everything? I had no phone number, email address or postal... postal address. I knew there would only be one Vicarage in that Village in the Dales she told me so much about, so I should write to there, she was bound to get it or hear about it at the least. So I fell back on that oldest and in many ways most reliable modes of communication, and I wrote to Em Rogers, care of her vicarage. Just for belt and braces I sent one to the Detective Chief Inspector asking that it be passed on to the address he couldn't give me. "My Darling Em, I hope this letter finds you well and recovered. I was released from the care of the NHS shortly before you and into the care of Suffolk Police. It turned out that the Mad Professor made a complaint of assault against me I was taken to Stowmarket to be questioned. You'll be pleased to know they let me off! Have been on my own now for a couple of weeks and I'm going mad without you. The psychiatrist and my GP are telling me I have post-traumatic stress, while I just keep telling them that I fell in love with you. The Psych told me that it's perfectly normal and is actually a bit like Stockholm syndrome and to be expected. Right now the only thing I know is that having spent 34 days with you (the policeman told me) I just can't go 'Emma cold turkey'. I don't know how everyone just expects me to move on and get over it. It wasn't an 'it', it was 'you'. I know how hard it has been for you, your sentence was four times what mine was, but after all we've been through this can't be an end to it. I've included my addresses and my phone number because I don't have yours and figured you might be in the same situation. I've sent a copy to your vicarage and to your parents' house via the police - that way I hope one of them gets to you. I know there's an extremely good chance that you may never want to see my face again and what it reminds you of - but I'm still taken back to that wonderful morning when we both realised that along with a grey plastic sheet and some empty Coke tins all we really had was each other. Now that the panic and the fear is over, I am the scared one, blinded by doubt and scared that I might have lost the one thing that kept me focussed, and made me realise what life is all about. Truth is I don't want to learn to live without you, I want to do all those things we talked about. I want to have breakfast with you, I want to spend the day with you, I want to go somewhere posh and have dinner with you, I want to curl up on the sofa and watch all those films we haven't seen, I want to sleep with you on a soft bed and hold you all night with a duvet and pillows rather than a mess of coats and a few blankets. I want our holidays in Italy and New England. If that's it, I will of course respect your wishes, get myself that Labrador and become a country gent. I know that I'll never forget you or what we did and meant to each other for our time together - to paraphrase Bogart my lovely Em, 'we'll always have Stowmarket'. Missing you, Love always Harry" I walked to the post box and posted my letters at three in the morning to avoid the journalists; the was one waiting when I got back and I asked him politely to fuck off and leave me alone - he didn't quote me. I heard nothing for days and figured that some things were just too painful to revisit and that would be that. I thought I'd contact my boss and ask if I could go back to work somewhere else in London, just to keep me occupied and so I could get back on with my life. Then after three weeks since our freedom and one after my letter, there was knock on the door. I figured it was another member of the press. I peeked through the glass on my front door and saw a figure. The press had pretty much given up on me and I was just getting used to it, so a journo early evening pissed me off somewhat. I was just about to shout through the door that I still had absolutely no comment when I recognised the 'L' shaped patch I'd stitched onto the right shoulder of my Barbour! I pulled the door open, and there she was. Emma; looking gorgeous, breathless and fantastically beautiful, that red hair I'd run my fingers through had been trimmed and styled, her lovely face made up to perfection. We stared at each other for a few moments, "I thought you might want you coat back," she whispered. "Em..." I stuttered, only for her to jump into my arms, laughing, giggling, her thighs locked around mine holding onto me for grim death. "Harry," she squealed kissing my face, "I've missed you!" "And I've missed you!" I said kissing her back. I stepped back into my hallway and saw an overnight bag on the floor. She put her feet down and bent to retrieve it. "You don't think for a second I'm going home tonight do you?" she purred. I made her the first cup of real tea, and she slipped off her shoes and curled her legs up on my sofa. She was looking fantastic in a tailored roll neck sweater against the winter chill and a skirt that stopped mid-thigh over thick black tights. I'd never seen anything so wonderful in my life and realised that I'd only ever seen her in trousers before. I sat next to her putting our tea on the coffee table. We didn't stop beaming at each other as we sat and brought each other up to date with what had happened to us. She'd gone home, and had slowly recovered from her stab wound, the police had arrived and taken several statements from her and showed her some pictures and some video and she'd asked about me; Mum and Dad where on hand to say that they were sure that I'd be in touch soon. Mum was smiling and saying what I nice guy I had been. Tom again confirmed that he had not taken to me, especially when I was taken away by the police for questioning. He'd again insisted that Emma should get over her physical and emotional trauma before contacting me again. Emma had worn my coat home, and kept it with her. When her mum took it to hang it up, she cried and said that it was her 'security blanket' and it smelled like Harry. This prompted her father to contact her old friend from Oxford hoping that seeing him might remove me from her thoughts. This didn't happen; she was of course very pleased to see her old friend, but during his train journey to Salisbury he'd done a quick Google search on Emma and read what she'd had to do with me to get food, and had happened on a couple of the photographs on a naughty website. Shown into the conservatory where Em and her sister were relaxing, he was constantly mindful of the glass walls and all of the journalists just the other side of the hedges and walls and their long lenses. He was extremely formal with his old friend and kept his distance hoping that none of the scandal that would soon develop would come anywhere near to him. After all, he had his sights on higher things and was already on a short list for a job at Lambeth Palace. His was photographed coming out of the house resplendent in his white collar and made a brief statement that he was delighted to be there to see his old friend and offer any support and spiritual comfort he could to the whole family. He was never seen again and there was some Sunday supplement allusion to how sad it was that after his efforts to bring her home their romance was not to be. Then, after spending a long weekend at Salisbury her Sister Ann had gone home to her Husband and children in Yorkshire, telling Em again that she absolutely had to contact me. As Em had laid in her old bed in her old room, she had told her sister about her time in the Big Brother Hole and how awful it had been until I arrived. Then she explained exactly how close we'd become, and Ann had said how impressed she was and although it had been a nightmare for all concerned, at the very least her virgin sister had finally popped her cherry and discovered 'the good life'. Emma laughed and lashed out at Ann, insisting that it wasn't just sex; she admitted that we'd fallen in love. "Well d'uuuh!" said Ann, "I got that within ten seconds of you telling me his name! It is strange that he hasn't tried to contact you mind you." "I guess that he's as stuck for contact details as I am" said Em. Em said that the very next day she would contact Suffolk police and ask for my number. She did, but the Chief Inspector was on leave and wouldn't be back until the following Monday. A message was left for as soon as he got back. That same day Ann had gone back to her Catterick home and stopped at her sister's vicarage and collected the small bag of mail as she had done for the last four months. She'd been doing this since Emma had gone missing and it was almost without thinking these days. She let herself in, made herself a cup of tea and picked through the post; there was a hand addressed letter 'Em' rather than Emma or Reverend Rogers, with a South London postmark. With their sisterly discussion of the previous day in mind, she tore open the envelope - Ann's hands were shaking so much she could barely unfold it. She read it, and by the time she'd reached the third paragraph she had tears running down her cheeks. Her phone connected automatically to the still running Wi-fi and she emailed me, just to check my bona-fide. My phone pinged to tell me I got mail. Most of the time I ignored them but something made me check as I lay on my sofa ignoring daytime TV. There was an email from an address I didn't recognise and it was titled, "Hi Harry, I'm Em's sister - what's my name?" My hand on my phone started to shake - just the tiniest bit. "Good afternoon Ann with no 'E'." I replied "Well done. Just to check you are who you say you are, what stood out about my sister losing her virginity at University?" "The biggest feature about that was that she didn't lose it at Uni' - she lost it to me in the Big Brother Hole," I figured I should check who she was, "what do I do for a living according to the tabloids?" "Why Harry I do believe that you are a Hi-speed, life-saving hero." "Recognition at last Ann with no E." I replied. "Still doing well, if you REALLY know my sister you'll know she has a particular reverence for the holy trinity, which is her favourite?" "Star Wars" was my reply. My phone rang seconds later, "Hell Harry, what took you so long?" "I'm guessing this is Ann?" I said. "Yes," I could hear the emotion in her voice. "Your Dad told me not to make contact, I think he was worried that I was a bad influence." "Harry," she sniffed, "Bad influence or not, my lovely sainted sister has been walking around with her head up her ecumenical arse since she took holy orders 5 years ago. A month spent with you and she's turned from the soulless asexual faith practitioner back into the girly girl I grew up with; she's relaxed, she's wearing hi-cut lacy panties under her tight jeans, hot make-up, she walks with a sexy wiggle again after years of working hard not to and has even started to swear." She took a deep breath, "she talks about you all the time Harry, and that's never happened before." "But your Dad..." "Oh just you leave my bloody Dad to me. Keep your phone on, I'll call her now, trust me, and Harry?" "Yes?" "Thank you for bringing my sister back to me, my real sister." "You're welcome," I said remembering the same conversation with her father who now wouldn't talk to me. "For doing that, I'll bring you back to her, promise." She did so. She read Em the letter and the fact that one had been sent to her home address via the police. Their anger was temporarily abated as Ann read the words and both squealed with delight. Em was so excited she wrote my address on her dressing table mirror in lipstick even though Ann was going to text it to her. With a 'promise me you'll ring me and let me know how it goes' from Ann, Em spent twenty minutes selecting her hottest clothes, liberally sprayed herself with Chanel No. 5 from her Mum's dressing table and put my coat on. She'd had her final stitches removed the previous day and told her parents she was going to London straight away to see me. Her Dad tried to get all parental with his nearly thirty year old daughter but faced with her cross look and the telephone bollocking he'd already taken from Ann for throwing away my letter, he gave in. She kissed and hugged her smiling Mother and with my address burned in her brain Emma packed an weekend bag and got the train into London and following two tube journeys and a taxi arrived at my place. Stories done we finished our tea and Em slid across the sofa to me, she smelled wonderful. "...And if you don't take me to your big soft bed with duvet and pillows and make love to me like you promised Harry Scholes, so help me I'll..." I kissed her, and took her hand leading her to my bedroom. We stripped each other and stroked and caressed bodies we both knew well already. Emma was wearing a black lace string and I almost came there and then just seeing it, and when I slowly dragged it down over her hips I saw she had even shaved her pussy, admitting that she loved the feeling and more than that, the look of it. She had filled out the tiniest bit and her boobs looked fantastic, along with the rest of her lovely curvy body. Finally naked I kissed her from her beautiful face down her body, stopping at her breasts and those nipples I'd loved so much, to gently kiss her just healed scar, until I reached her bare pussy. I licked, sucked and fingered her to her orgasm and it was just as pleasant only this time we were on a soft mattress in a warm house, happy that some sick fuck wasn't filming us. I managed to make her come a couple of times and she was crying out with joy and calling my name, gushing her juice over my mattress but right then I couldn't have cared a fuck less. Afterward the passion, we made love gently and passionately and clung to each other. I kept on thrusting in and out, "Em, I'm gonna come baby, should I..." She grabbed my shoulders and held me even tighter, "Don't even think of pulling out buster," her wonderful smile and the wonderful feeling of togetherness pushed me over the edge, and I came. "Wow," she said hugging me, both crying and laughing at the same time, "Now Harry, where's that pizza you promised me." Her parents didn't approve of pizza. We ate pizza, garlic bread, ice cream, both naked and in my bed. We lay down sipping more tea that I'd made while waiting for the pizza. We were back, two together, and I could only stare at her in wonderment. "Penny for your thoughts Harry?" "Simple," I said, "I'm just so happy I've got you back." "So am I," she said, "I was so miserable without you." "Now I have you back, I'm not minded to let you go again," I paused, "Emma Rogers, I love you..." I took a breath, "Will you marry me?" She beamed a huge smile at me and nodded, "Yes," she said, "Yes please!" She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. The very next morning we went into London and I bought her a sapphire engagement ring that matched her lovely blue eyes. We stayed at my place for a few more days and I cooked her the meals we'd talked about and we watched some movies. We collected her engagement ring two days later and she took a photo of it on her hand and emailed it to Ann. She phoned straight back and I could hear her screaming down the phone. I phoned my Gramps and left a message on his answer machine, quite simply, "thanks for the advice mate, I've found her and she's all mine." The next day we headed back to Stowmarket police station and her car which had started with a push. Mine was written off because of the damage to the axles, wheels and roof when it was dropped down into the tree line of the Big Brother Hole of course. She drove us from Suffolk back to her parish in Yorkshire, she had no pile of post as her verger had been popping in and out of her house to make sure things were OK and leaving them for Ann to collect. Her verger, a sweet, slightly camp old boy called Ray, had not been told that she was on her way home and was running around the place with a vacuum cleaner and didn't hear her open the front door. "Ray!" she tried to call over the sound of Radio Two and the red 'Henry' vacuum cleaner he was throwing around with such abandon, but to no avail. He turned, saw beaming Emma framed in the doorway, cried out a rather effeminate scream, and fainted. I went into ambulance mode and Emma cooed over him. Not before turning off the vacuum of course. He came round, "Emma!" he hissed, "Darling Emma! How wonderful, no one said you were coming, I would have arranged everything, we were going to have a party and everything once we heard you'd been found!" He started to weep softly. "I never gave up on you Emma," he hissed sitting up, "They had a stand-in on Sundays, but I wouldn't let him move in." he gulped and controlled himself. "Emma will be back; I told them, I said just you watch I said. Emma will come back to us." He sat up and I helped him, "I prayed every morning and every night Emma," big tears were pouring down his face, "I knew you weren't dead, and I knew you hadn't given up on us. The Bishop was starting to get cross with me, because I kept fighting your corner." Emma was lost for words, she spoke the words "Thank you Ray," but made no noise. Instead she just hugged him and they rocked side to side, both talking quiet words of comfort to the other. I left them to it and walked along the corridor until I found the kitchen. There was a kettle and I filled it up and switched it on. I took three mugs from the mug tree, and took three tea bags from the large jar marked 'tea', and put one in each mug. Em and Ray appeared at the kitchen door both with huge grins and arms around each other. Ray looked at me 'a bit old fashioned'. I guessed I was on his territory and he stepped into the kitchen with a 'let me'. He opened the fridge and found took out a small bottle of milk, and I realised he was disgusted by my profligate waste of three tea bags for three people! He took one of the bags and put it back in the jar and opened the cupboard to retrieve a china tea pot, the first one I'd seen in use outside of a tea shop in years. "Harry, let me introduce you to one of my best mates in the world," she put a hand on Ray's shoulder, "This is Ray; Ray, this is the man who saved me and then brought me back," Ray's jaw dropped, "This is my fiancé Harry." The Big Brother Hole Ch. 05 He stuck out a hand robotically, then stopped and looked at Em. "Fian... Fiancé?" I thought he would faint again, but then his face broke into a huge laughing smile, "Oh Emma, how wonderful!" He shook my hand, only letting go to grab Em and hug her rocking her from side to side. "Oh I'm so pleased!" he cried out taking her proffered hand with her bejewelled gold band on it, "this is just the best day ever! We've been praying for this day too!" He didn't stop hugging Emma, so I checked in the fridge and it was empty but for the milk. I checked some cupboards, and we drank our tea sat at the kitchen table. I said I would walk across to the shop and get some groceries just for that evening and the next morning. Ray insisted that he should but I insisted he stay with Emma and catch up. "But you kept her alive and you brought her back to me," he said, as if walking across the road to the village square was below a superhero like me. "Yeah, and you kept her alive here," I waved a hand around the room we were in and out of the window, "and more importantly 'here'." I tapped his chest, "you stay here with your best mate, and catch up." In reality I just fancied a break from the emotion, and a walk after our road trip from Suffolk. I found the tiny little village shop and picked up a basket. I bought more milk, cornflakes, a sliced loaf and, of course, eggs and bacon. I threw in a jar of marmalade (an absolute requirement after a full English), some olive oil, toilet rolls, kitchen towels and some biscuits. The serious shopping we could do the next day at the one of the large out of town supermarkets. I paid the cashier with my debit card and she smiled at me. I took my bag and left, seeing in the reflection on the glass door that she was talking to a man and pointing at my back. On the floor by the door were that day's last remaining newspapers and guessed that our fame had preceded us. I walked back to the vicarage to find them both at the kitchen table holding hands and laughing, my absence had done its magic. I unloaded the few items I bought into the fridge and the cupboard, and I turned and looked at Em. She beamed a grin at me and shook her head. In the hole, she had often referred to her desire to take me back to her vicarage and make me a cup of tea and a bacon and egg sandwich. Ray looked at our unspoken communication and stood up, "I'll leave you two to get settled in then." Emma stood, hugged him and kissed his cheek but didn't stop him from leaving mouthing a "thank you Ray," to him. "Well Harry," she said, "after all that shagging we did, I suppose I should make up my part of the deal." "Nah," I said, "let's do that tomorrow, let's unpack have a cup of tea and some biscuits and go to the pub for dinner, I reckon that's the easiest way to let the entire village know you're back; if not, they'll all be banging on the door and you won't get a minutes peace." And that was what we did; the vicarage had a large open fireplace and I made it up with kindling and paper to light it when we got back from dinner. At a little after seven we walked hand in hand across the village green to 'The Royal Oak' and it was quite full for a Thursday evening. In the manner of English 'locals' we were stared at for not being 'local people'. At least I was. It took about a minute and a half for people to stare through the low lights at the dark haired stunner that looked familiar somehow. When she'd gone missing her hair had been neatly straightened and bobbed and hadn't changed in the two years she'd been here. Now it had grown out, was shoulder length, slightly tousled and looked as sexy as hell. She said she had lost two and a half stone through her imprisonment, and was now wearing tight blue jeans, boots and a tailored sweater, along with a stylish haircut and perfect make-up. She looked fucking gorgeous. The landlord, with a stern countenance, crossed the bar towards the table we'd put our jackets on. I was looking at the board with that night's menu, and fancying a rib eye steak, and noticed him heading towards us. I hoped he wasn't going to make a scene and ask us to leave for not being local. "Reverend?" said the landlord in his strong Yorkshire accent. Emma turned to him, "Brian!" she said, "How are you!?" "It is her!" he shouted across the bar, and there was a universal cheer. He grabbed her into a bear hug and didn't let go until his wife joined him and hugged took her turn hugging the absentee. The entire bar descended on us, and that was that. Drinks appeared, I was handed a pint of bitter and Emma was handed her usual OJ and lemonade. Next thing, corks popped and we were handed champagne glasses and toasts were made. I stepped back to let Emma enjoy her moment, but these wonderful Yorkshire folk wouldn't let me. The papers had praised me as the ex-army paramedic who had bravely fought off three adversaries and exposed the Mad Professor and shot his hand to stop him shooting the priest. I had a second, then a third pint handed to me, more booze than I had drunk since the last Christmas party I'd gone to. Mobile phones appeared and excited discussions had. "Yes! Reverend Emma, She's here! Yes! In't pub, The Bloody Oak you narner! Leave the dishes, come right now!" And the place filled even more. The landlady noticed the gem on Em's finger and screamed - then the hugs and handshakes started all over again and more champagne called for. With the beer, I was now famished and escaped to the bar and asked the landlady if there was any chance of a meal as Emma and I hadn't eaten since lunchtime. She said that she would send the chef back into the kitchen, and we both had steak and chips. Mind you, the chef did bring out plates and plates of chips and sent them around the bar. They left us alone for twenty minutes while we ate, but then descended on us as soon as our plates were cleared. At nine thirty Ray appeared, and he joined the party. At a few minutes after midnight we left to walk slightly unsteadily back to her house and the bed that was calling us. Emma had turned on the heating so the place was lovely and warm by the time we got in so I left the fire for another night. I cleaned my teeth and used the bathroom, sliding into her wonderful bed. The duvet was huge and I pulled it up to my chin, just enjoying that feeling, with my brain back in the hole for just a few moments. Em appeared at the door dressed in a lacy black baby doll nightdress with matching string panties. She'd repaired her make-up and looked sexy, sophisticated and gorgeous and posed in the doorway. "Hey Harry," she put a hand on her hip and the other on the door frame and fuck didn't she look hot. "Hey Em," I looked her up and down. She looked outrageously sexy and stalked across the room to slide into bed next to me. "I've waited so long for this moment Harry," she said, and we descended into passionate kissing. After our great night, and the beer, and the food, I didn't think for a second that I'd want to make love. But laying there with my lover, I could think of nothing else and she rolled over on top of me taking a firm grip of my penis. She pumped me quickly, much as she had when we were in the hole, and I rose to the occasion. I undid the black ribbon holding her baby doll together and she leaned over me making her fantastic tits to rub across my face, moving her nipples across my lips teasing me with the hard nubbins at my mouth. Finally I dragged her panties down her thighs throwing them across the room. She smiled, bit her bottom lip and sat across me raising up onto her knees so she could lower herself on my erection. She fed it into her vaginal lips and sat back, exhaling slowly with her eyes closed. She lay flat on my chest, her lovely boobs pressing against my chest and she slid up and down me, riding me to perfection. After a while she sat up to get me deeper into her and she made good use of me, and I could see she was heading to her orgasm. I used one hand to caress her breasts and the other to where we were joined at our centre, and flicked her clitoris until she started to gasp and pant. "I'm nearly there Harry," she gasped, and I flicked harder. She came, and slumped forward, so I took the opportunity to slide her limp body off of me, but pulled her up onto her hands and knees, "Oh fuck yeah!" she hissed and I quickly entered her from the rear. I pounded into her, slapping her backside with my hips and she came again, shortly followed by my own climax and I spilt my seed deep into her. We lay down together and recovered. "Wow Harry," she said, "I slept on my own in this big empty bed for almost two years and never once dreamed that I'd ever make love in it, or even in this house." She got up to use the bathroom, and then came back to bed. We slept soundly. I slept so soundly that I knew nothing until the rattle of crockery woke me at eight o'clock and my semi naked waitress, her long hair piled on top of her head held in place by of all things a pencil, wearing my shirt from the night before buttoned just below her bust line giving her the most fantastically sexy looking cleavage; not only was she looking shit hot, she was holding a tray of tea and toasted bacon and egg sandwiches. Paradise. I even asked her to marry me again. I was still lying exhausted on the bed after Emma and I made love, when Ray rang the vicarage at ten thirty. Emma was still in the shower, and he said that after last night and the pub he'd arranged an impromptu get together in church hall that evening; I promised to pass on the message, but he still asked if I had it - twice; he even suggested I wrote it down. We jumped in her car and headed to Catterick and the large supermarket and filled her cupboards, fridge and freezer. We got to the church hall for seven thirty and it was another wonderful evening, and I was introduced as Harry, 'her fiancé'. All of the lovely dales folk started to shake my hand and kiss her cheek and discuss the wedding, over and above anything else that might have gone on. The party finished at a little after eleven and we were both banned from hanging back and helping clear the hall. Ray and a collection of little old ladies set to and the whole place was sorted and chairs stacked and bins out before we'd even stopped saying good night to her friends. And so we settled in. On the Saturday, we stayed in and sorted through her clothes, most of which were too big for her now. The next Morning she dressed in her uniform of a vicar, all slightly too big for her now, but Ray was on hand with safety pins and of all things a pair of braces. He walked her to the vestry and I took my place at the back of the packed church, including her boss the Bishop who had brought the Archbishop with him. She was welcomed back by storms of applause and a standing ovation from everyone, and she was reduced to tears. Her faithful Ray was next to her in a second with tissues, saving one for himself mind you. She turned to the altar and made her own devotions, which I now know were for the three unfortunates that never made it out of the hole and thanking God for sending me. She turned and raised her smiling face. "Dearly beloved!" she called out with raised hands and off she went, delivering a sermon of thanks and restored faith and how you should never give in to doubts. We were back into the church hall afterwards and I finally got to meet Ann, who was hugging Em and checking out her sapphire. Next I was introduced to Ann's Royal Army Medical Corps Major Husband David and their two boys. Ann hugged me and admitted to David that we'd spoken on the phone before. "Thanks for bring her back mate," said David shaking my hand, "I thought Ann was going to tear the country apart if she didn't turn up." He was wearing his khaki dress uniform and peaked cap. He was no military slouch himself and wore his medal ribbons much the same as mine had been, with the addition of paratrooper wings on his right sleeve. Next I was introduced to a man I recognised from the TV and was second only to the Archbishop of Canterbury as senior man in the Anglican Church. I smiled, he beamed and thanked me for bringing back his priest. I grinned and said he was welcome, I didn't bother to tell him I wasn't that much of a believer. We went back to the vicarage and had a sandwich lunch with Ray, Ann and her family and it was very sweet and something I was wholly unused to. David had to be back at work so everyone said their goodbyes, then it was back to church for a short evensong service and a shorter less emotional version of what had happened that morning. We went back to the vicarage and Em went upstairs and got changed while I brewed some coffee, and we sat down to watch movies on her DVD player and we did the holy trinity that I'd brought with me, stopping only to plate up the dinner we'd mostly prepared that morning. I lit the fire that I'd built two nights before and turned off the lights. Much as I wanted to watch 'the Return of the Jedi' the warm glow and crackle of the logs and her pushing me down so we were both laying spoons fashion on her large leather sofa took precedence. "If you so much as think of offering me a peppermint tea Harry, you might not get to do what I really want you to do tonight," she giggled turning in my arms so we were body to body and face to face. She wrapped her arms around my neck and put I mine around her waist and we just started to kiss each other, our tongues clashing and our hands journeying across our bodies to stroke and caress the other as we had done so many times before. I'd undone the belt on her jeans and had worked them down her legs until she kicked them off, stopping briefly I looked up to make sure the curtains were closed. My flat was first floor and not overlooked so it wasn't something I'd ever had to think of before. "What?" said Em noticing me peaking over the back of the sofa. "Just wanted to make sure none of your parishioners were going to get a shock. Me screwing you on this Anglican sofa that he spent so long polishing would give old Ray a heart attack." She giggled. "I closed the curtains while you got the coffee Harry," she said, "Anyways even the Archbishop of York knows what we got up to and that with this," she waved her hand letting the firelight catch the jewels in her engagement ring, "there's a pretty good chance that we are still doing it." She sat up to kneel across me, "So Mr Scholes, you going to fuck me or what?" "Reckon I'll have to now." I said and grabbed her and pulled her down onto me. With her discovery of sex Emma had shown a great preference for girl on top and rode me to her own pleasure, and while enjoying her playing cowgirl I loved it when she was on her hands and knees and getting it from behind. So our wrestling match started. We kissed and hugged, pushed and pulled, removed items of clothing until she was laying across me in a sixty nine and we feasted on each other. Wow, but it was fantastic and the first time we'd done it since we were in the Big Brother Hole. After she'd come - twice actually - she kissed my rock hard cock and slid around to lay on me. She knew she could ride me just how she wanted, there was no way I could deny her anything. She slid me up insider her, threw her head back and growled as my erect shaft hit all the places she wanted hitting. "Oh yes Harry," she said, "Keep going, just like that, fuck me, fuck, awwwwww shit!" I don't know why she was encouraging me, all I did was to occasionally tilt my pelvis or push up on the occasional stroke, and this was all her own work and a wonderful view. I alternated my hands from her thighs, to her boobs, to pinch her nipples (one of her favourite things during the act of lovemaking) to cupping or slapping her arse. I could feel my sap rise and started to get into it. "Oh nonono Mr Scholes!" she stopped fucking me, and sat with her arms folded, "not yet, I still have a special treat for you!" Without pulling off of me she lay flat on top of me and kissed me. "Go to the kitchen Harry," he she said rolling off of me, "brown paper bag, cupboard under the sink." She stood and pulled me by my hand until I was stood up. I dashed to the kitchen, and without turning on the lights (she hadn't closed the blinds here!) I found the package in question and dashed back to the lounge. She had turned off the TV, which had been playing to itself for the last hour or so, and was now knelt against the sofa, her top half resting on the cushions with another for us to kneel on, her lovely bottom on display. She looked back over her shoulder. "While we were in the hole, the night we escaped in fact, we made out that we were... that we were... going to try anal. Well," she took a breath, "well, I've been thinking about it ever since. When I was at home I wanked to that thought, two or three times in fact." Even in the firelight I could see her delightful blushes. "I told Ann that was how we'd got Sean to come down into the hole, and she asked if we really did do anal. I said we hadn't... and she said we definitely should because it was really nice!" She grinned, "So Harry... open the bag." I tore open the brown paper bag and there was a bottle of lube. "Help yourself Harry," she grinned. She lay her shoulders flat on the sofa and closed her eyes. "OK Baby," I said and poured some of the lube over my cock. "Make sure you use plenty in me Darling," said Em with just the faintest wiggle, "use a couple of fingers to stre... Ooooooooooh yeeeeeah!" she gasped as I did just that, "I think you have the general idea." I settled myself behind her and eased my fingers out and slowly pushed my erection in. She gasped and hissed and I slowed down, letting her get used to the intrusion. "Oh fuck yeah Harry," she gasped, "fuck me," I started to saw in and out of her, "Oh yeah, fuck me Harry, fuck my arse!" It was so strange, this morning I'd watched my lovely Em dressed in her black clothes for the first time, with a white collar and surplus lead her entire community through a very emotional religious ceremony with much thanksgiving all round including hugs and kisses from the Archbishop and here almost seven hours later she had me screw her lovely arse in the front room of her vicarage and talking like she'd swallowed all three '50 Shades' books with a Karma Sutra just for luck. "Come for me Harry," she said, "it's your turn Darling, come for me Harry, come deep in me!" I put one hand to her hip and another to her shoulder and proceeded to pull back and forth on her, shagging for all I was worth. "Oh Harry!" she gasped, "I'm coming again, please!" She gasped conscious that she'd just told me to come, "Please I'm so close!" I fucked harder, taking the hand from her hip to give her arse cheek a resounding slap, "Oh Christ, NOW!" She came with a cry, her head tipped back as her pleasure tore through her for the fourth or was it fifth time. And that was enough; I felt that orgasm start in my boots and what with the initial oral, her riding me and all this amazing intensity I came hard into her pulling her tight to me and falling across her as her spasming arse added more sensation to my already sensitised prick pushed so deep inside. We lay there giggling for a few moments. "Was that as good as you thought?" I said. "Waaaay better!" she took a deep breath, "I looked it up the marriage guidance section on my special library, but shit, that didn't go half the way there." She tilted her head to one side and kissed my cheek, "and I'm so glad you were my first - again!" "Me too!" I said slowly pulling out from her. She crooned. "Awwww I was still enjoying that?" "Sorry baby," I said, "come on, let's take a bath and then bedtime."