Chapter 1: Lost
The car stopped on the side of the road, bumping over the uneven tar before stopping completely with a shudder. The lights shone on the empty side of the tar, the only light visible.
"…we're out of gas, aren't we?"
The man in the driver's seat nodded sadly, his black mop bouncing with his motions. His brown eyes closed for a moment, then opened to reveal bitter regret. "Yeah…"
His passenger slapped a hand to her face. "Do ye even know where we are?" she asked.
Paul looked around the darkening road, absent of any artificial light and surrounded by only leafy trees. "Uh…"
"Oh, Paul…"
They sat in the dark car for a moment, the man seeming uncharacteristically timid after his mess-up. He knew he should have listened to the girl beside him, pulled over and asked for directions, but some terrible pride in him wouldn't allow that. He told himself it was the last time he'd ever listen to that part of his mind again.
"Welp," Emily said, breaking the silence, "Think Rings'll help us out? Could try calling him."
Paul shook his head. "He's on holiday. Gone for the next week. Don't think he'd be much help from tha far away."
"George, then?"
"At a… I dunno, some sort of retreat. He didn say much about it, but he's gone til Wednesday."
Emily sighed. "Lennon? Good God, do we dare ask for help from him?"
Paul grimaced, knowing how unhelpful his mate often was. "Call him up, then."
So, Emily took out her mobile phone and dialed the number that Paul had memorized, just in case he needed to call up his closest friend.
At a brightly colored flat a few hours away, a phone began to ring, causing a very grumpy John Lennon to appear into the room in his pjs, hair mussed and eyes squinted against the blur of bad eyesight. He groped for the phone and, checking the caller ID, brought it to his face.
"What is it now?" he grumbled into the receiver, using the friendliest greeting he could muster for the occasion. He rubbed his face with his free hand.
"John, m sorry to disturb ye, but I'm in a bit of jam here… Ye see, Paul and I-" Emily tried explaining, but John grumbled something to cut her off. "What was tha?" she asked, no understanding his garbled growls.
"I'm gonna go get Courtney; she's better with these ruddy things," he said in a slightly clearer voice still gritty with his grouchy mood.
"Wha? No, s not an argume-" Emily said, but then heard the thud as John set the phone down on the counter and stumbled away, "Of course, John."
John rounded the corner of his flat, into the living room where Courtney had been slumped next to him on the couch, sleeping soundly. He had been sleeping, too, until interrupted. Was having some very pleasant dreams, actually, about the girl he was next to. Dreams he would have loved to continue, perhaps even tried out in the waking world.
"What's up?" Courtney asked with a yawn, pushing herself off of the couch and stretching in an attempt to wake up more.
"Mornin," John said, catching the infectious yawn and repeating it with one of his own, "Phone call for ye. From Paul's bird. Sounded distressed. I figured ye'd better handle it."
Courtney rolled her eyes, but smiled. She couldn't help it; he did that to her, whatever it was that wouldn't allow her to be angry or cross with him. "Alright, I've got it." She fumbled on the side table for her glasses, being blind as a bat without them. Picking up a pair, she slid them onto her nose, deciding she didn't care that they were actually John's Buddy Holly-style glasses. With eyesight intact, she strode into the kitchen, followed by John, and picked up the phone on the counter.
"Em? Everything alright?" she asked as John came up beside her and watched on tiredly.
"Yeah! Well… Kinda. Alright, not really. Paul and I need a bit of help…" Emily replied, then proceeded to tell what happened since she and Paul had left their own short and rustic holiday on the farm of a family friend. They had needed to bring their own blankets, as the ones on the farm, they were warned, were full of holes. They soon saw that was true and were grateful to have their own. Once they left around six that evening, they were in high spirits. That is, until Paul had driven them into the middle of nowhere and the car had decided that it's gas stores were completely depleted.
"Aw, Emily!" Courtney exclaimed, "I'm so sorry! You're alright, though? Good, good. But, uh… You obviously have a cell phone… Why not call a tow truck?"
There was a pause. "Ah. Now that's a good idea. Ta, Courtney!"
With a chuckle, Courtney replied, "No problem. Call us if ye need anything else, yeah?"
Agreeing, Emily said her goodbyes, then stopped the call. She felt embarrassed that she hadn't thought of that.
Paul looked at Emily as she pulled the phone away from her ear. "Well?" he asked a bit nervously, "Is help on the way?"
She reached over and ruffled his mop cheerfully, "It will be soon. C'mon, we gotta find out what road this is before we call up the tow truck." She unlocked her door and swung it open before sliding out, phone in hand.
Paul did the same on his side of the car, automatically checking for other cars as if he were back in the city. He had become accustomed to urban areas.
"Hey, love, you look cold," he said, rubbing his own hands together. It may have been summer, but the nights still had a chill to them. "How's about we grab a blanket to wrap up in?"
"Best plan you've had all day," Emily replied gladly, shivering.
So, they grabbed one from the trunk and Paul wrapped it around her.
"What about you?" she asked.
He shrugged and closed the trunk. "I'm fine. Let's go find that street sign."
The two walked down the dark street, Paul with torch in hand, lighting the way just in front of them. Emily wrapped the blanket tighter around herself as she heard rustling in the undergrowth. Paul didn't seem to hear.
"Alright, let's find that ruddy sign so we can get ourselves home and hit the hay," Paul said cheerily, saying the last in a suggestive tone with a wink that was just visible in the light and made Emily grin.
They walked on, each in their own, somewhat similar thoughts. The darkness around them somehow didn't seem so frightening.
But it was taking forever to find that street sign.
Emily sighed as she looked as far ahead as she could, seeing nothing but dark trees and darker road.
"Where's that ruddy sign got off to?" Paul mumbled, trying not to shiver.
Emily checked her mobile. There was very little reception out there.
"Paul," she said quietly, "we need to find tha thing soon."D rather not be stuck out here with a dead phone."
Paul brought the torch light to Emily, being careful to avoid making it contact her eyes. "Bit like a horror movie, eh?" He said with a grin.
She glared at him. "If something bad happens, m blaming ye for jinxing us like tha."
Paul threw up his hands in surrender, the torchlight waving up towards the dark heavens.
"I don't think the road sign's up there, love," Emily said with a raised eyebrow.
"Well thought," Paul replied and pointed it back at the road ahead. For a while, nothing happened on their walk.
Then, Emily let out a scream, and Paul attempted to hold back his own...
It was morning, and no word of Paul and Emily had yet reached John and Courtney. The former was lounging on the sofa, doing a right good job hiding the concern he left. But the latter was pacing by the phone.
"Where are they?" She muttered, "I called them five times now, and nothing!"
"Ye're up to twelve now, not five."
Courtney shot John a glare. "I don't ruddy care what number m at!" She glared for a moment longer, then turned away, wiping at her eyes. "What if something's happened?" She asked in a wavering voice.
John got up and went to her side, putting an arm around her shoulders. "It hasn't. If it did, I guarantee Paul would be here righ now, haunting me til the day I died. They're alrigh."
Courtney sniffed. "Can't we help somehow? Find 'em an get 'em out?"
John shrugged. "If ye've suddenly developed superhuman tracking powers, lead on!"
Courtney sighed. "If only my instincts were that good."
John lowered his eyes to the floor as his girl sniffed and looked up with watering eyes and a pleading face. Then, an idea struck John. "Courtney! Tha Stephen bloke? Innit 'e in the witness protection program?"
She gave him a blank look. "Uh... yeah... but we're not supposed to know that... why?"
"Well, aren't those high-up law enforcer people real savvy with their technology an such? An if Stephen knows 'em..."
Her face lit up. "They can help us out!"
He nodded. "Why don we pay tha lad a visit, then?"
"...but... John... you hate Stephen..."
John shrugged. "Heart of gold, love. Old Stephanie can be hated any day. But if me mate's in trouble, I can set aside our differences and make 'im help. Who knows? May get a right good reason to push him around, maybe punch him."
Courtney rolled her eyes as she rushed for her shoes and car keys. "My hero," she said with sarcasm, but gave him a hug. "Now let's go!"
Stephen awoke to an ear-splitting crack from his door, followed by a bellowing voice calling his name.
'Oh, dear God,' he thought, frozen in fear, 'they found me... the program's had a leak, they found me and now they're gonna kill me!' He slipped out of bed and pulled on a shirt, then searched frantically for anything he could use a weapon, wondering why he hadn't invested in a gun!
Stephen grabbed the largest blunt object he could find, an impersonal hotel-style lamp, and ripped the cord out of the wall, heart pounding as a string of swearing turned round like a record in his mind. The knocking repeated itself, crashing through his lonely apartment and to his ears.
"Stephen, answer the ruddy door, ye rotten..." the bellowing at the door became too muffled to understand, but Stephen picked up on the accent. British, and certainly not the Queen's English. That would have been alright; he wouldn't fear that. Had actually gotten help from some people with that dialect. But this was different. This made him think that his enemies, the ones he had testified against, but to no avail, were expanding into foreign countries, recruiting madmen to murder him.
He crept up to the door, knowing it was his only escape, lest he want to fall to his death out the window.
A woman's voice was then heard. Stephen's eyes widened. It sounded like his Courtney! But... no, that wasn't right. She wasn't his anymore. But did those men know that?
"No..." he moaned, thinking the worst. He then plucked the courage he had and put a hand over the door, lamp swung behind him, ready to strike. Then, with a cry that would have been ferocious had it not been laced with fear, he pulled the door open and swung the lamp blindly at the first face he saw.
"Ah! Oi! Watch it, Stephanie!" John growled as he stepped back, narrowly avoiding the pale lamp.
"Stephen?! Stephen, what are you doing?" Courtney asked.
He blinked and lowered the lamp. "John? What're you doing kidnapping her?"
John laughed, not very kindly. "Kidnapping? Righ, cos I jus dragged 'er away into my van, offering candy and puppies."
Stephen glared. "I wouldn't put it past you."
Now John was glaring, too. "Oh, is that what you think of me? Well, wait'll I show ye wha I think of ye."
"Yeah? Bring it, bro. You've got nothin, you hippie."
Courtney stepped in. "Whoa whoa whoa. Guys. Enough. John, we're here for Paul, not your jealousy. Stephen, leave me boyfriend alone, yeah? And put that lamp down, you great fool!"
Stephen did as he was told, looking like a dog with its tail between its legs.
"Now, Stephen, we need your help..."
Courtney explained to her ex what had happened, and what she and john hoped for Stephen to do to help. John stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, intimidating Stephen as much as he possibly could. When Courtney had finished, she waited anxiously for Stephen's reply.
"Well..." he said, "No one's supposed to know about Charles and his men and their connection to me... Witness Protection Program's supposed to be secret. I can't just tell them about all these people who know of them, they'd move me again!"
John grunted. "You, farther away? I don't see the problem."
Stephen ignored him, trying hard not to shoot him a look in case he anger the British man.
"Oh. I see," Courtney said, eyes glistening over. She blinked away the tears. "Well. Thanks, I guess. Wouldn't wanna start any trouble for you over two other people lost in the woods." She sighed, perhaps a little dramatically.
But it worked. Stephen cringed and bit his lip. Finally, he cried, "Alright! I'll help you. I'll call Charles up and see what he can do. But, doll, you owe me."
John growled, but Courtney rebuked Stephen before he could. "Not a doll. Not to you, not to anyone. Maybe John. But no."
"Okay, sorry."
"But thank you!" she gave him a quick, harmless hug that boiled John's blood, as well as Stephen's but in a far more optimistic way.
Feeling cocky, Stephen grabbed his phone and called up Charles, asking for help.
"Not too shabby, eh?" Courtney asked John quietly, "I can get that bugger to help out, that much I do know how to do."
"So long as ye don help out 'is hard-on."
Courtney smacked his arm. "John!" she hissed, then changed her tone. "Wait... he didn't, did he?"
John was about to reply when Stephen came back, grinning. "You came for help, and I got you help. Charles will track where their last call came from and give us the coordinates. He can't come with us, too busy with federal business."
"Great, ta!" Courtney exclaimed.
"Wait a tic..." John said, "Us?"