Clay wasn't one to panic, not after all the things he'd dealt with. A few of his clients tended to make stupid decisions, dragging him along, ad he had learned to be patient and careful reacting to problems. Hasty action equaled potential danger. He cautiously opened his eyes, glancing around. He was bound tight, gagged, and inside a wooden cage. The others were struggling violently with their bonds, prompting a reaction from their captors. A savage kick to one of the girl's ribs brought Jason into a rage. Clay took a deep breath as the full measure of everything that was happening washed over him. They were all stuck, far, far from home, with nothing, held by captors who were creepily sadistic. This wasn't good. Not good at all.
Fuck. He swore several more times in his mind. We're gonna die here. We're actually gonna- no. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Someone has to. Keep your cool, Clayton.
Jason tried valiantly to struggle out of his bonds, but it only served to earn him a solid punch to the jaw. Clay winced sympathetically, but paid attention. These men seemed deranged. Not crazy- he had met some crazy people- but deranged. Viciously deranged. The head man, obviously the head man, since one of the others called him boss, spoke to Brett. Offered him a chance to set the rest of them free. Clay wanted to shout for Brett to just stay put, but his friend was already getting to his feet. And yet, at the same time, Clay wanted Brett to win, to get them all out of this. He quickly turned his head, searching for...there!
Laura was trussed up like the rest of them, to his left. He tried to make eye contact, but she seemed to be completely oblivious, to everything. A flame of anger flared within him. What had these bastards done to her? He had liked her on sight, and at the prodding of his friends, had stuck up a tentative conversation with her, last night. They had eventually gone back to his room, together, but contrary to everyone's beliefs, They had spent the night talking, and that was all. Not that anyone would care now.
Everyone was intensely focused on the brewing deathmatch, so Clay tentatively started wriggling his hands. He was in almost peak human condition, thanks to his rigorous training and intense trips into the wild. He was reasonably sure that, given enough time, he could snap the rope easily. He just had to stay quiet, and keep as still as possible. To the outside observer, he barely moved, but a careful watcher could see the tensing and slight movements. If he could get free, things would change around here, big time.