Preservation
Gift Short #3 - Preservation
A short story by Zantesuken
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The short drive out of the city and into the surrounding meadows was one the pair of kidnappers had completed many times, to the point where the anxiety surrounding their purpose no longer animated their blood and felt more like a commute than a getaway. Tied up unconscious on the back seat was a lithe green-scaled lizard; the boot was full of their materials, and not once had the pair spotted police along this pastoral route, let alone be pulled over to explain about their bound captive. By the time the afternoon had died into a cool, auburn evening, they had arrived at their destination.
Nestled away amongst lightly wooded hills was a small and long abandoned crypt; its masonry crumbling, foundations cracked with weeds and archways tangled with cobwebs. No graveyard surrounded it - it merely stood quietly decaying in the shade of fir trees with just a small path leading to it, concealed well from the nearby dirt road. Despite many long decades of disuse and neglect, the pathways were clear and the stone doors open - for the two wolves it had become their own retreat.
They had only explored a meagre portion of its twisting stone halls; their purposes were served well enough by the first antechamber and the surrounding tombs. Much to their joy, the majority of them had already been looted - even the decayed bones of the dead had been plundered, leaving just an empty husk that needed restocking. Today, their bound lizard would play that role. Boxes of various shapes and sizes were carried from the jeep down into the dusty antechamber, set down and unpacked in preparation for the evening's work. After months of repetition the operation unfolded with clockwork precision; it took only a few minutes for the deathly chamber to be equipped, lit dimly with hanging lamps.
Surveying the scene, the taller wolf turned to the shorter who was brushing off a large circular pedestal that sat like an altar in the centre of the circular room. "Right, I'll go grab the lizard then" He spoke softly, his gruff voice echoing down the endless passageways that radiated away from them.
"Ok" Replied the smaller without interest. "I'll start heating up the latex then." As the larger carried himself up the brief flight of stone stairs, the smaller set to work upon a bulky device set down next to the central slab. It was box-like with an opening door into which the wolf inserted a heavy metal cylinder which once contained propane, but now contained something much different. The door was locked and a switch flicked, causing the device to hum peacefully as it began to head the contents of the cylinder - a form of liquid latex.
Before his partner returned he made the final preparations. The bag of linen was at hand, the over head pipes were connected to the heater and most importantly their chosen tomb was open, ready for its new occupier. With each component ready to start, all that was missing was their subject.
He was carried in unceremoniously, slung over the shoulder of the larger wolf and rolled onto the cold stone slab. It was clear that his drug induced sleep was wearing thin, and that he would soon awake to find himself in the merciless clutches of the two sadistic wolves. Conscious or not, he was powerless now. His arms were crossed over his chest, snugly tied down in a light leather harness, while his ankles were strapped firmly together with his tail tip, forming one appendage where there should be three. Finally, a large black ball gag was wedged between his jaws, held tightly to the back of his scaly head.
"Why do they always look so cute all bound up like that, Terry?" The smaller asked, looking down upon the softly fidgeting form upon the table, opening up the first hefty bag stuffed with pure white linen bands.
"I dunno" Was the reply, the larger helping himself to a fistful of the soft fabric. "Doesn't matter anyway, they all end up the same." He said, unwinding a long strip and lowering it to the lizard's foot paws, pressing the feet together before starting to wrap them up. There was an art to mummifying, one could not simply throw the bandages on in any manner and expect them to hold. Terry's technique was second only to only a few highly skilled individuals; his methods were both the strongest and longest lasting in the western world. Yet he was getting older and the allure of this illicit business was wearing thin on him - as such he felt the time had come to train an apprentice; the young Dwight, who was currently watching with abject fascination as the reptiles feet were swiftly encased in a tight cocoon of linen bands.
"Ok, same as usual." The larger spoke to the younger. "You do the second layer while I work up the legs. Hopefully we can get this one wrapped before he wakes up."
Dwight merely smiled and pointed to the captive's head. "I think he's already awake." True to the lupine's word, the green lizard was slowly emerging from his deep slumber, his eyelids fluttering. The dazed stupor quickly left him when he tasted the hot, rubber gag prying his maw open, immediately going to remove it, only to find his arms irresponsive. His whole body was numb, detached from his control with a total paralysis. This only caused his terror to escalate, swearing and shouting into his gag causing spit to froth around its perfectly smooth surface.
"Calm him down will ya'? I can't concentrate with all that hollering." Terry commanded, the smaller wolf peering over the lizard's wide eyes with a band of linen in his paws.
"What's the matter honey?" He said sweetly, toying with the fabric between his stumpy fingers. "Afraid of us nasty wolfies?" There were only more hysteric cries from the panicked reptile. "Well, we're going to be giving you a treat, even if you don't appreciate our kindness. See, we like to turn innocent little people like you into mummies - you know, the Egyptian kind with all the bandages and the big stone sarcophagi? Well, that's what Terry over there is doing to your legs; he's wrapping them up nice and tight in linen so you'll be safe and warm inside your tomb."
Already the larger wolf had successfully wrapped everything up to the thighs in a solid webbing of fabric, rapidly approaching the groin. It was clear that even though the horrified lizard could not move his body, he could still feel the cool, firm touch of the bandages snaking up from his toes to his hips. "Hey, are you gonna' start wrapping or am I gonna' have to do the whole damn thing?" Terry barked to his apprentice, who looked back irately.
"I was trying to calm our guest down, as you asked." Swiftly he turned back to the lizard, leaning in and planting a soft yet lingering kiss upon the snout. "Now, I've got to go and help get you prepared, so just lay back and try to relax. You'll be a mummy in no time." Any protest that the lizard made was muffled and incoherent, pleading for his life and freedom with all his energy. It served little purpose other than to annoy Terry and entertain Dwight, who were busy transforming him into a tube of white cloth.
The apprentice tried to follow his master's pattern as closely as possible, for while the first layer was the most critical, the second was still of great importance. The linen was of the highest quality - strong, firm and light, such that the lizard's legs would be perfectly bound in only one layer with not a hint of green showing through. Nonetheless, Dwight took great care, though it would be shoddy compared to the adept touch of his mentor.
Inch by inch the lizard's stomach, folded arms and shoulders were under the unforgiving embrace of the linen, his body held taut and immobile now that his senses were returning. It meant little now - only that his feeble struggles served to display the power of his bindings, not so much as wrinkling their smooth folds when his body writhed within them. Under the second layer, his legs felt remote and alien, his flesh packed tightly into a narrow parcel that was denied any form of motion.
Beyond the point of fighting, the lizard could only whimper with tears running from his eyes when the bandages were wound around his neck, firm enough to lessen his breathing but not enough to completely sever it. The soft kiss of the fabric wound over his gag, masking it yet leaving a small hole before his nostrils. They would allow him to breathe, at least. He shook his head softly as the linen hung over his eyes, ready to snuff out his vision. Terry did not even look back into those dilated orbs; instead he just wrapped them up with the same professionalism he applied to every other part of the lizard, finishing off the head with a dextrous flurry.
Dwight meanwhile was halfway up, working at a slower and more awkward pace. Even though he was far from Terry's level, he still showed great talent and flair for his work, and was soon up to the neck; though unlike his mentor he was more intimate when wrapping the lizard's face. The features of the bound reptile were still clear - the look of resigned horror had been etched onto his face permanently by the first set of tightly wrapped fabric. He had been silenced, save the slowly calming breaths whistling from his nostrils. Once the final bandages had been applied it was clear the contents were a lizard, but any uniqueness had been destroyed along with his freedom, now just an immobile cocoon of pristine white.
Terry surveyed his apprentice's handiwork, running his heavy paws along the perfectly smooth stomach. "Good work. Now, let's get him coated. I don't want to be here all night waiting for him to set." The two wolves reached for the entombed lizard, lifting him up and balancing him upon his feet as if they were moving a piece of furniture. He was completely rigid, the tension in the wrappings kept his body straight and lean.
Above his head was a small nozzle from which ran a pipe across the cracked ceiling and down the wall, connected to the now heated bottle of liquid latex. After checking the temperature and pressure, Terry flipped the switch that sent a scolding shower of thick, viscous plastic from the nozzle, slapping onto the wrapped head of the lizard before oozing down the water-tight linen. An excess of the jet black liquid was poured over, torrents of the stuff rolling down and cooling as it went. They took great care to keep the nostrils free, as well as moving to nozzle to try evening the coating.
Inside, the lizard was cooking in his linen cocoon; the heat of the molten latex was seeping through to his scales - not hot enough to burn but enough to cause discomfort. The dim white of his blindfolded eyes turned pitch black as his whole body was enveloped in the tar like substance, clotting and forming around his constrained form. He knew not what was happening to him, only that he would probably not be escaping this catastrophic bondage.
Once the mummy was evenly coated in the black liquid, the two wolves sat back and watched him cool. The coating seemed to contract over time, adhering and then moulding to the shape of the reptile inside. It also began to grow more reflective - what was initially a pitch black substance now gleamed in the dim light. After a long two hours, the latex had fully solidified into a seamless sculpture of blackest night, and unless one placed their hand before the exposed nostrils, it appeared no life existed in what was otherwise a life-like object.
"Right, let's seal him up and head on home. Beer's on me." Terry announced, breaking the silence. Each took one end, Terry at the feet and Dwight at the head, leading with a torch to navigate to their chosen tomb. While light enough to carry alone (neither the linen nor latex added significantly to the lizard's weight) the rigid, inflexible shape was awkward to move, and so he was transported horizontally between the two wolves.
They came to an upright sarcophagus, its cover slid aside. They had measured it - just the right size for the lizard; large enough to fit without injury but small enough so he would feel the relentless press of stone from all sides. Like pieces of a puzzle, the lizard slid into the thick stone recess without the slightest millimetre of space to spare. He now stood flanked on all sides by the chipped and dusty tomb, its ancient walls in stark contrast with his shiny latex skin. As Terry went to slide the seal back into place, Dwight stepped up, face to expressionless face with the mummy, knowing he could still hear him through the many layers of bondage.
"See? Safe and secure" He said lovingly, feeling the hot breath quicken through the dilated nostrils. "Now, we're going to slide your cover over and let you get some rest. Maybe I'll come back and let you out in a few days time. Until then, sweet dreams." He kissed the snout, still faintly bulging with the ball gag, savouring the taste of fresh, warm latex. With a nod, he stepped back and turned to Terry, who with a heave of strength, slid the heavy stone door back into place, sealing over the recesses' outline and then locking in with a loud, echoing thunk.
The two stood there for a moment, thinking to themselves, looking upon the face of the tomb. It was decorated with a stylised lizard, now faded though the ages. While its exterior remained ancient (save for two small nostril holes drilled almost invisibly into its surface), it contained a fresh, live body; one that was bound to endure this strange fate. Like the great pharaohs, this lizard's body would be preserved for millennia, protected from time by stone, latex and cloth. It was on their drive home that Terry considered this, and set his apprentice a question.
"When you said you were doing to let him out, you were just teasing him, right?"
Dwight looked up from his lap and out across the dark expanse of the countryside to the familiar orange glow of the city. He still had a day or two to make up his mind...