We continued trekking in the direction Matt pointed in for a while. Nothing important had happened since the run-in with the losers-- er I mean highwaymen. But there was something unsettling about one day. It was a little too quiet…
"I don't like this… I don't like it at all," I whispered.
"Don't like what?"
Before I could answer, bandits came at us from all angles, including the previous two.
"Shouldn't have messed wit' us."
Crap.
"You leave dem' boys alone, sonny!" came a creaky voice.
There was rustling in the foliage. It came from everywhere. Gun barrels poked out from the leaves. Who ever this old guy was, he had a lot of friends who were packin' heat.
"Drop yer guns now, bitchiz!"
Terrified, the bandits dropped there weapons and huddled in fear.
"Kids, tie them up right an' proper!" a rope dropped down.
After we had the raiders secured in a more-than-snug fashion, the old man revealed himself. Yet, where were the others?
"Boba I am. Help you I can. Yerrr!" he said in a raspy voice.
"What the hell?…"
"Where are the others that were with you?" I asked.
"Others? Others there were none…"
The somewhat-senile man revealed a brilliant trap. He had ropes connected to each other that all rustled the bushes at the same time and had guns cleverly set on them.
"Wow" Matt said, mystified.
"You bastard! We'll cut your heart out and force it down your throat you old bag!"
"You wont do anything, not after this. Boys, smear this here honey all over them. Then watcha gotta do is drag them to this here ant pile…."