To Come Home on an Alien Land

By Jolly

Episode 2

To Bring my Brother Safely Home

"Who are you?" Fenton asked. "What did I do to you?"

He had to know. If he knew who, he might be able to figure out something that he could use to bargain his son's and wife's freedom.

The masked leader laughed. "I want you to wonder. And to suffer. You will never know, Fenton. I have planned for years for this day. And I shall relish every second of your anguish and agony! How right they were to say that revenge is a dish best eaten cold! And how right they were to say that mental pain is far far worse than physical ones."

Suddenly the door opened, and an elderly man walked in, followed by a young woman carrying a huge briefcase. Fenton did not recognize him at all, but he knew in his heart, that man was the one who made the offer for Frank. Why did he want Frank? God, so many unknowns!

"Welcome to the Lair, Mister Q! Here's the person you wanted. I see you have the cash?" The leader queried.

The elderly man signaled to his guard, who put the briefcase on the table. Mr. Q opened it and displayed the neatly stacked $100 bills. Then he gestured to Frank, and said, "For 10 mil, can't you at least provide better ... packaging?"

The masked leader looked surprised for an instant, then commanded one of his men in a mocking tone, "Why of course. Take young Mr. Hardy here out and make him more presentable ... he can wear the set of clothing we got last week."

Then, Mr. Q sat down on the chair that was provided for him, his hands sat atop the heavy cane he used, even though Fenton could not spot a limp. The young woman stood silently behind him.

After Frank was gone for a while, Fenton finally worked up the courage to break the silence and to ask Mr. Q, "What do you want my son for, Mister Q?"

The elderly man arched an eyebrow at him. "You have many enemies, I see, Mr. Hardy," then shrugged nonchalantly, "He has skills that are needed. And your enemies do want to see you suffer, do they not?"

The masked men around him snickered.

Before Fenton could respond, the guard returned with Frank. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, but he looked much better in the T-shirt and slacks, even though they hung a little loosely on his thinned-down frame. And Frank still looked far too pale for his liking. Then he realized Frank's eyes were a little glazed his face a little feverish.

The elderly man examined Frank with a critical eye, and then gave a nod. It was clear he was far from satisfied with what he saw.

"Let's get going then." Then he left the room.

The young woman reached out for Frank and propelled him after the old man. Then, turning to face the leader, she added, gesturing to the two older Hardys, "You bring them along, as we agreed."

Fenton was surprised by that, but hid his curiosity. But he could see a sudden hopeful look in Laura's eyes. He only hoped that whatever happened next would not come as a crushing blow to her already fragile state of mind. Soon, they were all out in the open. Fenton had to squint against the glare of the sunlight. They were surrounded by forests. And before them was a very comfortable looking eight-seater 4WD.

The Leader who had been watching all the while laughed at the play of emotions across the faces of all three Hardys.

"Thought you were going to be separated for a moment, didn't you? The total payment was 12 mil, Hardy, one each for both you and your wife. He said it would be nice for you to see what your son will become. Ain't that sweet! Hope you suffer even more, Hardy!" he spat out. Then he turned and left.

The remaining masked men directed Fenton and Laura into the backmost seats of the 4WD. Then Frank and the old man got in, and the old man slid the door shut on his side. Finally, the young woman got into the driver's seat, and drove off.

After they were a comfortable distance away from the place of captivity, Fenton was suddenly shocked by Mr. Q turning to face him directly, saying, "I wouldn't try that if I were you, Mr. Hardy." An instant later, the little makeshift weapon he had managed to conceal dropped onto the floor of the 4WD, and then rolled away under the front seats.

His mouth dry, he wondered, how the old man knew. And what he did or how he did it. Then he sighed. He should have figured there had to be something else ... and a cold fear seized his heart when he recalled the feel of a strong viselike grip on his hand, forcing him to drop his weapon. It wasn't possible, was it? He looked up at the back of the old man's head, and then forced a thought:

'I could just grab him now and knock him out, then take out the girl.'

The old man chuckled and said, "Good deduction, Mr. Hardy. And quick too. I was wondering how long it would take for you to figure out you can't really expect to escape so easily."

It was then that Fenton realized that Frank appeared much better, his skin not so pale, and that he was staring at the old man in amazement. Despite the cuffs on his hands, Fenton pushed himself from his seat to lean forward to see what was happening. What he saw amazed him. There was a festering wound on Frank's lower left torso. It must have gotten infected and that must be what was causing Frank's feverish appearance. The amazing thing was the placement of the old man's gnarled hand about half a foot above the wound. The air about the area shimmered, and Fenton swore he could literally see the wound healing.

Finally, the wound healed fully. Fenton and Frank could both see that the efforts had taken toil on the old man. Sweat had beaded his brow, and his hand was shaking a little as he removed it from its healing position. Even the young woman at the wheel had looked back every once in a while, a worried expression on her face.

Frank touched his torso where the wound was, gingerly, then he looked at the old man and said, "Thanks."

Then he asked the question that Fenton had been itching to ask. "Why?" The 'who' and the 'how' and the 'what' could come later.

"For my godson." The Hardys were mystified.

The old man looked at Frank tiredly. He reached out with his other hand and gently traced Frank's features. Then he smiled. "You may have brown hair and eyes instead of blond and blue. But your features are similar. There is no mistaking that you are brothers."

The next ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly for the Hardys. They couldn't believe that now after three years, they might finally find out what happened to Joe. And from what the old man said, Joe was still alive, and most possibly well too. The Hardys started asking questions immediately, wanting to know what happened, how was Joe, where he was, etc etc and all the unasked questions like ... why didn't Joe come home? Didn't he know his family missed him desperately?

It was several long minutes later that the Hardys realized that the old man had his eyes closed and was leaning back into his seat. The Hardys' voices slowly faded off one by one - was he really really sleeping? They wondered, frustrated. But they made a collective decision to wait it out. There was no need to discuss it. It seemed the old man had 'saved' them. He healed Frank. Fenton worried about the $12mil and the motivation behind it, and the eventual price that might follow. But, this was their only lead to Joe. They didn't want to lose that. And the Hardys also supposed it was the least they could do to let the old man rest for a while after his exertions.

The young female driver had thrown Frank a key and he used it to free his parents. They wondered about her too. Who was she, and more importantly, what might she be capable of? After all, she had walked so casually and confidently into a den of ruthless criminals, as apparently the bodyguard of an old man. . . though the old man did have some amazing capabilities.

The wild musings of the Hardys were drawn to an abrupt halt when the 4WD screeched to a sudden stop. All of them could feel the sonic energy of a loud explosion, even though none heard a squeak. Outside the 4WD, it looked like they were caught in the midst of a sandstorm. When the dust finally settled, the Hardys saw that their 4WD was nestled at the edge of a circular field of rocky terrain.