He finally had a plan in place. He pulled a roll of tarred bankline from his daypack. He unwound a length and then tossed the line up and over a tree limb above where a branch was located, so the cordage wouldn’t slip.
Creed took one end of the loose line and slipped it under the crook of the man’s knee and tied it below the patella in the front. Walking over to the roll, Creed pulled more length free, then cut it and tied it to Rou’s water bowl, setting it down a few inches away.
In his mind’s eye, this was going to work fine.
Would he have liked to have tested the theory?
Damned straight.
Would he leave this man in agony for a second longer than absolutely necessary?
Hell to the no.
He was winging it. “St. Jude of desperate situations, I call on you again,” he mouthed as he reflexively made the sign of the cross. “Alright, Tamara, I’m set up.” He said into his phone that lay in the dirt, giving his helpers a view of the gray sky.”
“Creed, you’re going to use the heel of your hand and slowly exert pressure until you’ve compressed the bands of steel and they come together. That should open the teeth.”
Creed talked to Parker the whole time. He told him what was happening, and though he hated doing it, Creed called Rou to him. Rou did as she was instructed, though it was with obvious reluctance.
“Rou, get your bowl.”
Once again, aware that the strange red shoes still wrapped her feet, Rou side-kicked and danced, making her way to the bowl.
Creed shot a glance at Parker to see if her antics caught his attention. But he was still gone.
Rou picked up her bowl and turned to Creed for her next assignment. “Rou, hold.”
With a final adjustment of his knees, Creed took a deep breath and pressed down, doing as he’d been instructed, keeping his arms straight and using his weight. And the damned thing didn’t budge.
Not even a little bit.
Slowly, Creed released his breath and lifted his weight from the sides, easing back onto his heels. “Fail,” he called out.
“Nothing?” Tamara asked.
“Affirmative. It didn’t budge.”
“Do you have any oil, a lubricant?” Tamara asked.
“Affirmative. I have a penetrating oil.”
“Try that. Just keep it away from any lacerations.”
Creed had reached for his bag and pulled out the small bottle, dribbling the formula around all the places that he wanted to move.
He checked in on Parker, and he was still out of his body. He hadn’t even moved or shifted when Rou got down from her place in his lap.
Creed spun to look over his shoulder, and little Rou sat like a soldier with her bowl in her mouth.
“Going in again,” Creed said as he once again adjusted, inching up a bit and curling his toes under so he could hike his hips into the air as if he were getting ready to dive off the high board.
Creed placed his palms down, and this time, as he pressed, he thrust into his toes, driving them into the ground with thestrength of his thigh muscles, shoving everything he had into compressing the level.
It gave, and wobbled.
He’d hoped that once it was open, there would be a catch that held it in place. He hadn’t seen a mechanism to do that; it just made sense to him that it would be part of the design.
Creed pressed harder into his toes as he growled and flexed his muscles into action, and the teeth spread out to release Parker’s pants.
