Here's Zack
Companion piece to Where's Zack?
For someone who studied under Dr. Brennan, you'd think I would have been smart enough to know that walking to and from work was a bad idea. But, no, I was an idiot. On Monday I walked to work, only a few blocks from the hotel in which I was staying. The day was pretty boring, no cases that required Special Agent Booth to join us. Jack and I were working on a project so we stayed late and it was dark by the time I left. I realize now I should have been smart enough to know that I should wait for Jack and ask him to drive me home, but, again, I made a stupid decision. So I said goodbye to Jack (I even told him I was walking back) and left. That's where mistake number three came in. I thought I remembered a shortcut so, instead of walking along the brightly-lit main streets, I turned left and headed down a side street. I had walked for about two blocks before I noticed that I was being followed. Three young men, all wearing long, black jackets and red doo rags, were a few yards behind me. I sped up, walking quickly. They were faster. They caught up and surrounded me.
"Hey there, pretty boy," one of them sneered, stepping closer. I swallowed and stepped back only to bump into one of the others. Slowly, I pulled my wallet out of my trouser pocket and dropped it on the ground.
"Just take it," I said nervously. The one who had spoken grinned and his friends chuckled. I slipped off my jacket and threw it down.
"You can get thirty bucks for that," I suggested, hoping they would just take the money and go. No such luck. The one behind me grabbed my arms and they dragged me down one of the alleyways. I kicked my feet, trying to escape, but the thug was strong and held on. The one who had spoken approached me.
"Do you like it up the ass, pretty boy?"
I shuddered.
"Leave me alone," I said weakly. He laughed and motioned for the third to come over. The third thug was holding a long, steel pipe. He came over, I felt a thunk on my head, and everything went black.
When I awoke, I was on the ground and they were standing above me, kicks and punches landing everywhere on my body. One of them stomped on my ankle. I cried out and heard the tell-tale sound of bone breaking. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I cried out while they hit me again and again. By now it was light out and I could see their faces clearly.
"Had enough, pretty boy?" asked one. He must have been the one who talked to me the night before. I nodded, sobbing. He smirked.
"Too bad. You never answered my question," he said conversationally as he unbuckled my belt, "Do you like it up the ass?" He pulled my pants and boxers so they were about mid-thigh and turned me on my stomach. I shivered and sobbed and begged. Strong hands grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled them apart. I felt something nudge up against my entrance. It was cold and dry and metal. The pipe.
"No!" I cried, "Please!"
I got no answer and the tip of the pipe entered me. I screamed as it tore flesh and I felt the wetness of fresh blood run down my legs. The pipe was pushed so far in that I felt I would never be able to sit again. Then they pushed it farther. I had given up begging and lay there, face pressed in the dirt, sobbing. They moved the pipe out almost all the way before ramming it back inside. I cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as the pipe hit my prostate. Again and again they rammed it in and out. I don't know how long but it felt like forever. Finally, they removed it completely. I heard the pipe drop beside me and they pushed me so I was on my side. With one last kick in my stomach, they were gone.
I lay there for hours until the tears stopped coming. I wondered if the team was looking for me. I wondered if they were worried about me. I wondered if I'd ever be found. I suddenly remembered something and reached for the cell phone in my breast pocket. It was unharmed. I pressed the first speed dial button and held the phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
I could not get my mouth to form words and I almost cried again.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Jack," I whispered.
"Zack is that you?"
"Yeah,"
"Where are you?"
"I don't know,"
"What?"
"When you exit the building, turn left and go down the side street. Find me!" I cried.
"O-okay we'll be right there!"
I hung up.
It was only a few minutes before I heard him calling out to me.
"Zack! Zack!" He called.
"I'm here!" I said, but my voice was too weak to carry.
"Zack!"
"Hush!" said a new voice, "Yelling his name won't make him appear."
"Agent Booth?" I called out as loud as I could. I heard the rushing of feet and then there they were.
"Oh my god," Angela said quietly, hands covering her mouth. Agent Booth opened his cell phone and called 911.
"What happened, sweetie?" Angela asked. I blinked in embarrassment.
"I was stupid and I walked home last night. Couple of thugs, I guess, they knocked me out with the pipe," I explained calmly, tilting my head forward to show them the bump and small patch of blood, "they beat we until I woke up and then they u-used the p-pipe t-t-to," I faltered, my calm outer shell broke, my voice cracked and stuttered, my face streamed with tears, "T-t-they," I was unable to finish the sentence and simply sobbed. I could faintly hear the wailing of sirens, but my brain didn't register it and I lay there, sobbing and shaking at the memory. Agent Booth said something and then went away. We waited. The paramedics soon arrived and lifted me onto a stretcher. A paramedic said something. Then somebody else, I think Dr. Brennan, said something. I passed out.
Three weeks after, I returned to work. People told me I was just like before, so I kept them thinking that and never let my guard down in public. What they didn't know, was that I cried myself to sleep each night, ever remembering.