Stolen

"Stolen"

By Measer

Rated PG. Shouldn't it be TV-PG-LV? After all this is based on a TV show.

Disclaimer- Early Edition, its characters and whatever else are owned by Tri-Star and CBS. Everything else I just made up.


"Hey Gary! Gaaaarrryyyy! It's me!" Chuck rapped lightly on the wooden door. Gary couldn't have left yet, he thought to himself, it's was only six thirty. " Gareeee..."

The door suddenly opened. Gary stood in the doorway, with a very irritated look on his face.

"It's about time you opened the door," Chuck said, smiling. He made his way past Gary and sat on the couch.

Gary, who was still standing by the door, closed it and sat down next to Chuck. "What do you want, Chuck?" Gary asked crankily.

"Is that how you treat your best friend-- especially when I brought breakfast?" Chuck reached into his pocket and pulled out a brown paper bag. Inside was a bagel, a slightly stale bagel with almost bad cream cheese.

Gary took one look at the bagel and put it down on the coffee table. "No. Thanks." Looking at the clock on the wall, he thought it was too early to be up, especially with the night he had. "What do you want?"

"Aren't we awfully cranky, this morning?" He looked over towards Gary, who sat on the couch with his head in his hands. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"I just got in very late. I'm still tired. I was busy." Gary stifled a yawn. "A kid who fell into a manhole, you know the usual stuff." Rubbing his face he looked up towards Chuck. "What do you want, anyway."

"I was at a company party yesterday and over heard a stock tip. I wanted to see the paper to, you know... check it out," Chuck said. "It could make us millions." He already knew the answer before he finished his sentence, but he had to try.

"No."

"We could then buy you a nice house," Chuck said, waving his arms towards the room. "Then you wouldn't have to live in this roach motel."

"No!" Rubbing his eyes with his hands, he sighed. "I'm going to take a shower." Getting up, he walked into the bathroom.

"You don't know what you're missing." Chuck yelled from the couch. He picked up the bagel and looked at it in disgust. After throwing it in the garbage, he decided to raid Gary's refrigerator.


It was too early to be up, but he was on his mother's insistence. Go to the hotel, she said, feed your grandma's birds. He reluctantly said yes to stop this mother's nagging, figuring that he could do it later, but she woke him up at six. If he had it his way he would have gotten up after three. That of course was a decent time to get up. Tyler got dressed and his mother practically pushed him out the door. Now, a short bus ride later, he was here at the Blackstone Hotel.

Pushing past people and not even stopping to say excuse me or apologize, he mad his way to the reception desk. When the receptionist didn't notice his presence, Tyler slammed his hand down on the little bell which sat on the corner of the desk.

"Hold on a minute." Claire, the desk clerk said as she finished what she was doing.

Unfortunately Tyler didn't want to wait. He continued to hit the bell until Claire snatched it off the desk.

"How can I help you sir." She asked the teen, no more than 14, whose was now messing up a stack of brochures that sat on the desk. "Hey Kid! Don't do that."

"I'm here cuz my mom sent me. Where's room 1610?" Tyler asked. "She asked me to do some stuff for Granny."

"Oh, you're talking about Mrs. Rosenberg, your Tyler... right?"

"Yeah, that's me." He responded.

Claire stared at the boy for a moment and began to wonder if this was the same boy that Mrs. Rosenberg often talked of. The same cute little Tyler that Mrs. Rosenberg would go on and on for hours about. Was this the same kid?

Interrupting her train of thought, Tyler spoke. "Look lady, I ain't got all day. You gonna tell me? Cuz I know they ain't paying ya to just stand there and watch scenes go by."

"Take the elevator to the sixteenth floor. It's the last door on the right. The elevators are over there." Claire said pointing.

"Aiight then." Tyler walked towards the elevator.

"Your welcome!" Claire yelled as he walked away. "Kids today... Ahhhh, I'm beginning to sound like my mother." Sighing she went back to work.

Tyler rode the elevator up to the sixteenth floor. Once there, he stepped off and walked down the corridor, and scanning each number until he reach room 1610. Reaching into his pockets, he retrieved the keys that his mother had given him. He stuck the keys in to the lock one by one until he found the right one.

Tyler was about to enter the apartment when he heard something to his left

"Meow." Thump.


Gary stepped out of the bathroom to a familiar sound, the newspaper hitting the door. He debated on whether he should put clothes on first, then get the paper or vice versa.

Unfortunately, Chuck noticed his hesitation. He slowly crept towards the door. Chuck made it halfway there but unfortunately tripped over a chair, knocking it over.

The chair hitting the floor broke Gary out of his train of thought. Gary quickly ran to the door by jumping over the couch. Chuck only got the door partially open when Gary's momentum caused him to crash into the door.

"Ow..." Gary rubbed his bare shoulder and opened the door. "I'll get it."

"Hey," Chuck shrugged, "I was only trying to help..." He made his way back into the kitchen.


Looking across the hallway to his left, Tyler noticed a cat and a newspaper. He crept over and tried to pull the paper out from under the cat. The cat responded by clawing at his hand and angrily hissing. He pulled his hand away quickly to avoid injury, but he wasn't about to give up. Tyler retaliated by kicking the cat off the paper with his brown suede boot. With a soft thump, the cat landed a few inches from the door.

Tyler smiled to himself as he reached down and retrieved the paper. As soon as he picked up the paper, the door it was in front of opened slightly, then slammed shut. Startled, he quickly ran into his grandma's apartment and quietly closed the door.

"Whew... that was close," he said to himself.


Gary opened the door to find the cat laying on its side, mewing softly. The cat looked up at him and then the down the hall. Gary looked down the hall to see the elevator door slide shut.

"Chuck!" Gary hollered. He carefully stepped over the cat and hurried into the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elevator's passenger.

"Wha?" Chuck asked, sticking his head out the door, "what's the matter? Oh man... what happened?" He said looking at the cat.

"Put him inside." Gary yelled from the staircase doorway. He bolted down the stairs and made his way to the elevators. He made it just in time to see the elevator doors slide open reveling its sole passenger, reading a newspaper.

Or a newspaper. Gary grabbed the paper as the man exited the elevator.

"Hey! That's mine!" The man complained, trying to snatch it back.

Gary looked at the paper's date. It was today's. "Sorry, I thought it was mine."

The man looked at him for a moment. "Weirdo."

"Gary? Is that you?"

Gary turned to see Marissa and her guide dog walking towards the elevator. "Yeah."


"What a dump," Tyler mumbled to himself. He heard a ruckus in the hall, but heard chose to ignore it, figuring it was a domestic dispute. That's what it usually was in his building. Throwing his ill gotten newspaper onto a small table by the door, Tyler made his way into the kitchen. His grandmother always kept a supply of frozen food for him, just in case he came by for a visit, which was rare.

Tyler threw a hot pocket into the microwave, hit start and impatiently drummed his fingers on the counter as he watched the numbers. He removed the entree and plopped into a chair by the table. He picked up the hot pocket and took a bite. "Ow... damn that's hot," he yelled, spitting out a mouthful, which landed on the floor. "Crap..."

His grandma would kill him if he made a mess. Tyler looked around for a napkin or a paper towel, but couldn't find one. That's when inspiration struck. Newspaper would work. He pulled out a few pages from the middle of the paper and used it to clean the floor. He got most of it, the rest he wiped up with an inconspicuous piece of his shirt. When he was done, Tyler sat back down and finished his meal.


"... then the lady in room 612 said something about hearing weird noises in the room next door. She swore that she heard people howling..." Claire gossiped with Boswell by the reception desk. She was about to continue with her story but something caught her eye. "Now that's something you don't see very often..."

Boswell turned around, "oh my..."

He was about to walk over there to say something to when Claire grabbed his arm.

"I'll go..."


"What's wrong?" Marissa asked, sensing his distress.

"Someone beat the cat up and took the paper," Gary said. He began to scan the lobby. There had to be at least fifteen people with newspapers.

"Ahem," Claire cleared her throat, "excuse me, Mr. Hobson. Um... I don't mind your present attire, but I think some of the other residents might mind. Maybe only the males..."

"Huh?" Gary asked confused.

"What you wearing," Claire said.

Gary looked down at his attire, or lack of attire. That's when he realized he was only wearing a towel. "Oh." Gary smiled and began to blush. "Sorry."

"What?" Marissa asked. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the elevator. "Gary, what did she mean by your attire?"

"I'm only wearing a towel."

"A towel?"

"Just a towel."

"Oh..."


After washing the dishes, Tyler walked towards the bedroom and looked at the bird cage which sat by the bed. "Might as well do what I came here to do," he mumbled to himself. Opening the cage door, he pulled out the old, waste covered newspaper and replaced it with pieces of Gary's paper.

"I'm finally done," Tyler said to himself. Holding the remnants of Gary's paper in his hand, which consisted of the first five pages, he folded them up and stuck them in his pocket. Afterward, he decided to take a quick nap.


"He doesn't look to well," Gary said to Chuck and Marissa as they stood over the cat.

"Maybe you should bring him to a vet," Marissa said.

"Maybe," Gary said. He went over to the closet and pulled out a box and a towel. Picking up the cat up slowly, Gary gently placed it into the box.

"I have to go to school," Marissa said. "Call me after you've gone to the vet."

"How about we meet for lunch instead?" Gary said.

"That's fine, around one?" Marissa asked, grabbing Spike's harness as she walked towards the door.

"That's okay with me," Chuck said.

"Yeah, that's fine," Gary said.

The trio left the apartment and went down to the lobby. Once outside, Marissa left for school.

"I've have to find a taxi," Gary said.

"What's this about a taxi. I'll drive ya," Chuck said.

"Thanks, but don't you have to go to work?" Gary asked.

"No, I don't have to be there. Pritchard is on vacation, everyone else won't notice I'm gone. So it's okay..."

"All right lets go."


Samantha sat in her room and played with her crayons. Being three, that was all she could do, but she didn't mind. Coloring was fun and she loved all the pretty colors that came in the box of crayons. "Red!" she merrily told herself as she continued her drawing of the ocean. She reached for the box but something else caught here eye. Trotting to the window, Samantha practically leaned out in an attempt to get a closer look at the bird."Pretty birdie..."

"Sam, sweetie, what do you want for breakfast...?" Sara looked into her daughter's room and stood horrified as she saw her daughter half way out the window. She stood in shock, until her child fell.

"My baby...! Nooo... !!"


"Mr. Hobson?"

Gary stood up in the waiting room. "Yes."

"I'm Dr. Singer, please follow me."

Gary picked up the box he had the cat in, and followed Dr. Singer.

"So what's you cat's name?" she asked.

"Name? I just call him cat."

"I see. So what happened to 'Cat'?"

"I'm not sure. I kinda just found him like that."

"I see," she said. "Is he a stray?"

"No, he's mine," Gary said. "Are you implying something?"

Dr. Singer looked at Gary for a moment and began to wonder if he did this to the cat? She'd seen this many times before, but he didn't seem the type. He looked genuinely concerned for the cat.

"No, I'm just curious."

She began to examine the cat. A few minutes of poking and prodding, she was finished.

"Your cat is going to be okay, it's nothing serious. He'll be fine in a couple days." She handed a cardboard cat carrier to put the cat in. Dr. Singer led him to the reception desk and handed him a slip of paper and a bottle of pills. "Those are pain killers. Give him a pill twice a day, for three days."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Chuck got up from his seat in the waiting area, walked over to his friend and pulled the piece of paper out of Gary's hand. "Three hundred and fifty dollars!? That's a lot of money for five minutes and six Tylenol, not to mention that we hat to wait here for three hours."

Gary pulled the paper back out of Chuck's hands and handed him the cat. He quickly read the bill, then handed it to the veterinary assistant who was at the desk.

"Cash, check, or credit, Mr. Hobson?" she asked.

Gary reached into his pockets and realized he had forgotten his wallet at the hotel. "Um... Chuck, I think I left my wallet on the dresser. Could you...?"

Chuck sighed and handed the box back to Gary and pulled out his wallet. After he handed the assistant a major credit card, Chuck opened the box and looked at the cat. "I hop you're happy, flea bag."

The cat weakly meowed back.


Grady drove his truck down the street as he whistled to the music, which blared from the radio. Sighing to himself, he contemplated the tediousness of making deliveries. Momentarily taking his eyes off the road, he reached down to change the station on the radio. When he looked up, Grady saw a dog in the road. He instinctively grabbed the wheel and turned it to the left.

Grady managed to swerve out of the way but the trail tipped and split his cargo all over the road.


After dropping the cat off at the hotel, Chuck and Gary walked to McGinty's, where they met Marissa for lunch.

"So, what are you going to do now, Gary?" Chuck said as he ate his burger and fries.

"I don't know. I don't know what happened to the paper," Gary said.

"Maybe this is the paper's way of giving you a day off," Chuck said. "You've been looking really tired lately..."

"By hurting the cat? I somehow doubt that," Gary said as he picked at his chicken sandwich, not feel hungry.

"He was fine after you took him out of the box," Chuck said.

"Do you think someone found out about the paper?" Marissa asked.

"I don't know," Gary said.

"Maybe someone did and they're making millions as we speak," Chuck said.

"Is that all you think about, money," Marissa asked.

"No, I don't think about it all the time... just a lot of the time," Chuck said.

Gary wasn't listening to his friends banter. His mind kept wandering to thoughts of tomorrow's paper and to where it could have gone.


After awaking from his nap, Tyler decided to take a walk. He read the remnants of the paper which he removed from his pocket. Budget cuts... new traffic lights... a fire... a four car accident... something about an accident with a soda truck... and a kid falls out a window, none of these articles appealed to him, but he skimmed them anyway. He looked at the last five pages hoping to read some of the sports, but to his dismay it was the TV listings. Deeming the paper useless he tossed it into a trash can as he passed.

He continued to walk down the street. A couple blocks later he heard a crash, then another, and two more after that. He ran down the remainder of the block and saw a car accident. A four car accident.

Tyler was shocked. He had just read about a four car accident in the area, on this street. What were the odds of it happening again. The newspaper said it happened yesterday. Did it happen again? What were the odds of that?

Snatching a newspaper from one of the bystanders, he opened it to the page where he saw the article, but couldn't find it. Why couldn't he find it? This was the Chicago Sun Times, the same paper he had earlier. He scanned all the other articles, but they were all different. Handing the newspaper back to its owner, he grabbed another paper, from another spectator and found it was the same as the first. It was the same as the first.

Tyler decided the had to find the paper he had discarded earlier, so he ran back in the direction he came.


"Meow."

"What do you want me to do? I don't have the paper." Gary put the book he was reading down, when the cat jumped onto the table.

"Meow."

"What? Do you want me to wander aimlessly through the city looking for it?"

"Meow."

The cat jumped off the table and walked to the door and meowed again.

"Do you want me to open the door?"

Chuck got up off the couch and followed Gary to the door.

"Meow." The cat pawed at the door.

"What is it Lassie? Timmy fell down the well?" Chuck joked.

Gary ignored Chuck and did as the cat asked. The cat walked to room 1610, and sat in front of the door.

"What? Is the paper in there?" Gary pointed to the door.

"Meow."

"Your telling me Mrs. Rosenberg has my paper?" Gary asked.

"I knew it! I knew Mrs. Rosenberg was up to no good," Chuck said.

"She's a sweet old lady, besides, she's on vacation," Gary said.

"Meow."

Knocking on the door, Gary waited for a response. When he didn't get one, he twisted the door knob. To his surprise it was open.


Tyler finally found the paper. Retrieving it out of the trash can, he read the article again. The accident happened around 4:30. It was 4:40 now. That was the right time frame. It said four cars. He heard four cars crash. Minor injuries. He didn't know about that, having left too soon.

He quickly glanced at the date.

Tomorrow's? How can that be? It was impossible to get tomorrow's paper. What if this was tomorrow's paper. I could be rich! He thought to himself. Win the Lotto.

He opened the paper to the second page. Lotto numbers! He reached into his pocket and fished out his last dollar and took off to find a place where they sold tickets.


Gary poked his head through the door. "Hello? Is anybody here? Mrs. Rosenberg?"

The cat ran into the apartment.

"Hey wait," Gary said. He looked at Chuck.

Chuck shrugged, "he's your cat. You go get him."

"He's not my cat... oh never mind." Gary entered the apartment. He looked around for the cat and found him sitting on the bed.

"There is a bed in my apartment." He told the cat.

Meow. The cat looked towards the bird cage.

Gary examined the bird cage and found his paper in it.

"Are you saying this is my paper?" Gary asked.

Meow.

Gary reached into the cage and pulled out the paper. He looked down at the date. It was tomorrow's. This was his paper.


Tyler walked into a candy shop and filled out a lotto card with the numbers from the paper. He then handed it to the clerk with his last dollar.

"I'm sorry, I can't process this," the clerk said.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you aren't eighteen. You can't buy, unless you're eighteen."

"How do you know I'm not eighteen?" Tyler asked smugly.

"Because you aren't." This was all the clerk said to him.

This wasn't working. He needed to try a different approach. "It's not for me. It's for my mom."

"I'm sorry, I still can't do it. Your mother will have to buy the ticket herself."

"She's sick. She wanted me to buy it for her."

"I'm sorry but I still can't do it. It's a fine if I get caught."

"There's nobody here in your crappy store, but me!" Tyler blurted.

"I'm sorry, now please leave!"

"Whatever man..." Tyler took the lotto car and the money and stormed out of the store. He was too young. Even if he did manage to buy a ticket, he would still have to find a way to cash it. He could give it to his mom or grandma, but that wouldn't work either. They would want to use the money for college or something.

Tyler crumpled up the lotto card. Instead he walked into a deli and bought a soda. He had to come up with another idea, one that would make him money. That's when another idea struck. He would have to find his friend Bryce for this one.


Gary placed the pages of the newspaper on the coffee table. It was a complete mess, with most of its paper torn or covered with bird waste. He and Chuck shifted thought it, looking for something to do.

"Awww... man..." Chuck said.

"What?" Gary asked.

Chuck looked at the paper closely. "The stock, it went up 10 points. I didn't buy any. What time is it?"

Gary pulled the piece Chuck was holding away, then looked at his watch. "It's five-oh-five." He handed the piece of paper back to Chuck.

"A lot of good this'll do me." Chuck crumpled the paper up and tossed it aside. "I couldn't find this ten minutes earlier..."

"Hold on..."

"What is it Gary?"

"'TEEN NEARLY BEATEN TO DEATH.' Around 6:30 this yesterday evening, a teen, 14 name withheld by request of the family, was beaten into a coma by a former friend's older brother. Neighbors say that the younger teen was a noted troublemaker and that he probably provoked the older teen."

"He probably got what was coming to him," Chuck said.

"I'm going to stop this." Gary grabbed his coat and ran out the door.

"Hey wait for me..." Chuck ran after him.


TBC