It was time to see how badly he was hit. He stuffed his handkerchief into to hole in his side. Gingerly he felt around. The pain told him when he had ...ound the exit wound. He stuffed some dry grass into it to try and stop the bleeding or they wouldn't have to find him, he would die from loss of blood. He carried on looking; it seemed to be the only wound, until his hand reached my head. The pain made him grey out for a while; when the pain dwindled to an acceptable agony, he traced a groove in. “Has anyone else ever spent time with you in here?” I asked him.“Only twice, but I’m not sure that I should tell you about it.”“You can tell me, I won't tell a soul.”“OK if you are sure. Well, the first time was just after I had built this shed. One of the younger men who had a plot down the track came to have a look at it. He was good-looking and fit. We got talking about sex as men do. One thing led to another and we ended up having sex in here.”“What, full sex? You mean fucking each. More

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