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Taylor sat unmoving in his chair. He couldn't-wouldn't- believe this insane man was going to kill him. There was just no way it was going to happen. He'd made it out of this situation once and by God he was going to do it again! He tongued the strip of duct tape that held his mouth prisoner and started moving his lips all around, attempting to remove the duct tape. He tried to check his progress by crossing his eyes and peering down passed his nose but all he received for his efforts were snorts from his captors. "Whatever." He dismissed within a hunger-weakened mind. "Mmm.." One of the twins moaned. Taylor screwed his head around to see who was waking up. He'd placed the sound as one of the twins, but without a face it was nearly impossible to tell which it was. He caught a glimpse of dark brown hair with bars of golden highlights to his left and then he jerked his head around to his right and saw the mop-top of Clint. He slumped down in his chair and panted through his nose, thoroughly exhausted from an action he would have taken for granted only a few days prior. And he still didn't know who'd made the noise. "Bob's waking up." Came a soft murmur. "Oh." "So is Clint." Another murmur replied. Damn it, confused again. Taylor sighed and slumped his head against his chest to, he hoped, gain strength and before he was aware he was sleepy. He fell asleep in an awkward position. He sat shivering in anguish at the goings on around him, feeling his hands tingle at the rapid intake of oxygen. "Calm down Zac. You're gonna pass out and wake up with a massive headache... calm." He coached himself through a difficult situation... and lost. He allowed a tiny sob to pass through his nose and he felt tears squeeze out of overused ducts in his eyes. Hot trails of salty liquid began a seemingly never-ending path down his soft cheeks. He started panicking with alarm when his nose became stuffy. "Oh my God... Oh my God... I can't breath! Oh God help me!" His mind screamed. Wild eyes scanned the room in hopes of finding help and they settled on the backs of three quietly talking men, gesturing to a piece of paper before them. "HMPPHHHH! MMMPHHH!" Zac yelled through tightly closed lips. He started jerking his body against the old wooden chair his big frame resided in to make further noise. Will glanced momentarily over his shoulder. "No... no no no! Please help me!" Zac's tears dried up as anger ate away his panic. Unknowingly he sucked his nose free of any mucus left and felt it in his throat and nearly gagged. "Ohhh grody!" He had no choice. He had to swallow. A disgusting moment later it was over with. He told himself to stay calm and be relaxed so he wouldn't suffocate himself.again. He sucked in a body shuddering breath and felt his strength leaving him, as if it were fed up with the constant struggle to retain itself. He couldn't blame it. Isaac was out of it. He'd been slightly overdosed on the Thorazine his captors injected him with. Hazy eyes saw, but didn't note, that they were within a massive building that looked like it had long since been abandoned. Cobwebs sat unmolested in the corners and cockroaches scuttled over a mostly empty pizza box on the wall closest to him. His mind told him he should be fearful of such nasty things but he didn't have the energy to care. He slowly swung his head to the left, feeling it-but not feeling it- bob unsteadily as he took in an open door that obviously had been used to load supplies into large trucks. Jamie was standing atop the cement landing were the goods would have been stacked. He held a small video camera in his hands and was taking in every detail of the sickly children he could. Maliciously he zoomed in on Isaac's blank face, one that reminded him of a sheep and he felt satisfied when a small trail of saliva snaked it's way out of Isaac's lips. "God I feel funny." Isaac's mind mused dully, not caring that he was drenching his shirtfront in drool. He sighed in confusion, not knowing what to think. He was tied to a chair, his lips hurt from where one of the men had ripped the tape off a short while before, and his head felt fogged up. How was he supposed to feel? Nothing was connecting and his mind was tired of trying to battle the drug in his system. He dropped his head backwards. He didn't feel the sharp crack of his head against an adopted brother's nor the complaints that were muttered. "Ow! What the fuck was that!?" Dave's brain screeched. He jerked his head forward and pulled his head back to the side for a look at what had just assaulted his head. He saw a close up of frizzy hair and knew it was Isaac's head that had caused his mild headache. He cursed through his tightly closed mouth. "What a crock of shiat-n-muslem." He had to grin slightly at this. A good friend back in BC, Canada gave him this phrase of cursing; one that he could get away with in front of his parents. He had no clue what it meant and decided that he would have to ask Ron, the man, it's meaning if-when-they got out of this messed up situation. He peered at Scott and saw a red face nestled beneath a layer of facial hair, eyes sparkling with.something, insanity perhaps? He pierced his brows, wondering why his brother looked so upset. He moved his eyes down to his hands and saw white knuckles going head-to-head with the arms of the chair that his hands were strapped to. "Poor guy." He was going to be one of the weakest, if you didn't count Star, of the bunch if he didn't stop fighting everything so hard. He shook his head and moved his gaze elsewhere. Bob and Clint's chairs were pressed together at the sides, pressing both boys together. Their tired eyes were locked together and Dave felt envious that they had the rare luxury of touch at the moment when he saw their fingers gripping one another's on the limbs of the seat. They seemed to be communicating through their eyes; Bob would look steadily into the identical set of eyes seated next to him and Clint would suddenly nod like he was hearing advice from his twin. "Aww... they're reading thoughts." He sneered inwardly. He'd had a few of those moments with his twins before. Scott felt left out when they'd just stare at each other and deliver an unheard message. It was rare though, it only happened in the worst situations. One example being when Clint's close friend Adam had been killed in a car accident. The four brothers had been camping in the backyard in Tennessee, before they'd relocated to Canada. Frank looked distressed when he opened the backdoor and called Clint inside by himself. The other three boys dismissed it a moment later and began giggling and telling ghost stories like Clint hadn't even left. Bob had been in the middle of a scary retelling of a big foot tale when the expression left his face. Scott prompted him to continue but he saw that Bob's face looked the same as Dave's. He scowled, wondering what was going on. Bob and Dave's eyes welled up with tears suddenly and Scott had felt confusion biting at him before the backdoor sprang back open. Bob and Dave jumped to their nine-year-old feet and sprinted to the middle of the yard, meeting Clint in a tearful hug as all three started sobbing. Scott had asked what happened over and over and finally ran inside to see what happened. When he found out he joined his brothers. The incident had not been forgotten by any of them, including Frank and Darlana. His stomach grumbled at him and he mentally told it to hush, already knowing that it wouldn't listen. He glanced back at Scott, glad to see he'd finally stopped his losing battle with the chair. He leaned his head against Isaac's and sat staring at the ceiling, pondering the worth of his life if he escaped this.this hell. Bob and Clint were staring into each other's souls, feeling an unexplainable sadness. Their fingers ached from the death-grip they had on the other. But nothing could ever convince them to let go. They noticed nothing but each other as their twin-vibe kicked into full gear. Neither was communicating as Dave had thought, but they were only trying to divulge the fact that death was near. They couldn't know for sure, but they knew that they weren't going to get out of this mess. They'd been lucky before, the jack-ass squad had made so many mistakes in the last kidnapping but they'd learned and were taking no chances of repeats this time. Bob's eyes showed this clearly and Clint had to break eye contact for a moment and nod as, what he felt, the truth sink into his soul. He was scared but the way Bob had handled it held him back from crying he knew he'd feel like a pansy if he caved in. He resumed staring, drawing comfort from the way he felt when he looked into the eyes that were his but yet not. Tiredly, he leaned his forehead against Bob's and felt the heat radiating off the other young man he was seated next to. Tired eyes could no longer resist sleep as his head slipped from its spot and fell to Bob's shoulder. Bob smiled and lay his cheek against the top of Clint's messy hair, drawing his own comfort from the fact that his neat-as-a-pin brother's hair was strewn every which way. "Home, home on the range..." Bob sang in his mind fatuously. Scott awoke scarcely an hour before the rest of the people he was being held with. It only took an hour for his sanity to break free and leave him. What the men planned to do with them was horrifying and who could he tell? How could he let his family know what was going to happen with his mouth taped shut and his hands tied down? They weren't, that's how. "Only if I'm still tied down." Since sanity had left him for a moment, he cackled maniacally and began tearing away at the tape that was stuck fast to his wrists. He wrenched his hands up and down and to the sides, neither noticing nor caring that the pressure he put on his arms drove the tape into thin strips which in turn cut into soft flesh. The dark sweatshirt that had been issued in the beginning of the long drawn-out ordeal covered all of this from Dave's view. He tried holding the end of the chair's arms in his hands and pulling up. He heard the wood groan beneath his death grip and felt a piece of sanity slip back in place. But with that sanity came the realization of pain and he stopped what he was doing. "Ow... shit where'd that come from?" He questioned the pain. This halted his determination to break free and he just sat motionless, studying those around him. Zac looked like death itself. He sat, pale and panting, in his chair cowering within it as though it would gobble him up like some possessed demon-chair. "Poor kid." Taylor was slumped forward in his chair, most likely asleep. "I should be so lucky." Bob and Clint were leaning against each other, sleeping also. Isaac, Star, and Tony followed the same example. Dave was still awake though, staring back at Scott curiously. Scott had to hide a grimace at the sight of Dave's eyebrow ring. "That thing doesn't look too hot." He decided. He felt that Dave could read his thoughts as the younger man peeked through his lashes to get a view of the barbell and two studs stuck through the small piece of skin. "Yum." Scott thought sarcastically. Sleep kicked him in the head rudely and he held back a scream of pain when he started to yawn, feeling the tape pull at facial fuzz that was long over due for a trim. "Ya know what? I don't give a flying fuck anymore." He stated silently. If death was coming for him he was going out big. There went sanity again. "Buh-bye." Scott smiled. "When are we leaving?" Will questioned Mac. "Soon... soon." He muttered quietly, drawing on a sheet of paper. Jamie watched him drawing a map of the drop point for the money, one that was located far, far away from the bad luck Tulsa's Point represented. "Soon." Mac breathed once more. << Previous Page of Story>> << Back to Story Page>> << Back To Index Of Chapters Page>> Back To Main Page>> |