Chapter 4
"Can someone explain to me what the heck was going on back there??"
Joe Jonas shouted these words emphatically for the second time in as many minutes, attempting to elicit a response from the teenage girls driving and sitting around him in the van in which he was now riding. The girls hadn't bothered to restrain him; of course, due to an overwhelming sense of shock and confusion, he hadn't really tried to resist them at any point. His numb mind was still struggling to register what he had seen- the flash of red… the girl falling to the floor, slumping against the doorframe… she was dead. She had been shot and killed, and now she was dead. As if that weren't enough, Kevin and most of the remaining girls had been left behind backstage, while he, Joe, had been ferried back onstage and through a mass of screaming, crazed, oblivious fans to the building's front entrance.
As these thoughts rushed through his dazed stream of consciousness, Joe's question was answered by a blonde girl with glasses. "There was an ambush," she said curtly. "We had to get you out of there as quickly as possible."
Joe considered this answer for a moment. "…but what about the girls who were left behind?" he asked. "Why didn't they come with us?"
"If they had come with us," replied a short girl with brown hair, "then there would be no one left to defend the hallway. They had to stay, to hold off the attackers long enough for us to get you to safety."
Another question occurred to Joe Jonas. "What attackers? What is this all about?"
There was an uneasy silence. Evidently, Joe was still unaware of the death of his younger brother.
"Well…" began one girl hesitantly, "they're basically terrorists… not like the ones behind 9/11," she added, remembering the mind to which she was conveying this important information. "We believe them to be based completely in America. They… they want to kill everyone in your band."
The news hit Joe like a pulse of electricity. "Oh, and they also want to blow up Disneyland," added the girl with glasses.
"Wh-… why would someone want to kill us?" asked Joe, visibly shaken.
"They're boys," said a blonde girl cynically, looking out the window with her arms crossed. "They're obviously jealous of a band full of total hotties, so they tried to improve their odds by eliminating the competition."
Since Joe had long since trained his ears to filter out the white noise of young girls complimenting his appearance, he had some difficulty extracting meaning from this statement. "What?" he asked.
The girl wasn't sure how to make her point more clearly than that, so she changed the subject. "The important thing isn't why they're trying to kill you- we know for a fact that we can't talk them out of it anyway. The important thing is that they are trying to kill you, and that they have a lot of resources at their disposal, and that we need to do everything in our power to keep you safe.
Joe thought for a moment before posing his next question. "What about Kevin?" he asked. "He's in danger, too, right? So, why was he left behind?"
The girls shifted uneasily. "Well," said one, "from what I saw, he was resisting the girls who were trying to bring him back onstage with you. It… it was a hard decision, but I, for one, decided to save the Jonas brother that I could save rather than trying to change your brother's mind. I'm… I'm sorry." The other girls chimed in, mumbling their apologies as well. Joe didn't really blame them for what had happened… but at the same time, he was extremely worried about Kevin. Why had he stayed behind? Why on Earth had he not made his way to safety?? Then, something else struck Joe… something somehow more terrifying than any other realization that today had brought.
"…and Nick…" he began softly, "…he wasn't there during the concert. He's been gone for hours." The girls stared at him, not daring to show any kind of expression at all. Joe, a sense of deep horror welling up inside him, went on, "So… they probably have him, right? Those people who want to kill us have Nick?"
The girls looked at one another, at the floor, out the window- anywhere but Joe himself- for what seemed like ages. Then, the cynical blonde girl spoke: "They don't have him, Joe." She cringed as he breathed a sigh of relief, misunderstanding her, so she corrected herself: "They don't have him because he's dead."
For the longest time, Joe was completely frozen, completely numb to the incredible pain that these words held for him. It surged in upon him slowly, as tiny sparks of comprehension began to flicker through his stunned mind. As these words echoed in his mind and a psychological defense mechanism slowly lifted the veil from their meaning, his head fell down, down into his lap, his whole body shaking, every girl in the van watching him and wishing to share his burden, yet unable to do so, for they could never know Nick as Joe had- his brother, his youngest brother… as the inevitable stream of wild, anguished thoughts flooded into Joe's mind, the van rumbled on silently into the night.
Tijuana, he thought, breathing deeply this newfound- if short-lived- sense of safety. Getting past the border had been as simple as tranquilizing a few guards- up close, of course, so that nearby guards had no way of seeing that entry was being forced. The step had become necessary when one guard showed signs of intense nervousness, no doubt recognizing the teenage boys as the criminals now famous and infamous nation-wide.
As for Tijuana itself, the city now stood before Doug as he stepped out of the trailer, which was parked on the side of the road some distance away. They had just driven through the city on their way to a safe stopping place away from the buildings and people. The danger was not gone, that much he knew- but it was much, much less than what it had been. Life was good, and he could finally take some time to relax. Raping Nick Jonas hadn't been easy- though he'd enjoyed inflicting pain, humiliation and death upon the scum of the Earth that the media calls a "pop icon," Doug had also struggled with some confusion over his own sexuality. Some of the discomfort still lingered with him, but he did his best to brush it away, soaking in the comfort of that wonderfully warm night south of the border.
Sam had made up his mind. Though he couldn't bring himself to torture Krystal, he decided that he had no choice but to put on a show and make her think he would. He would threaten her with the shock collar, and let her know he wasn't someone to be trifled with. She, in turn, would bide her time in the basement, and so remain safe. These thoughts drove him as he marched to the door to the basement, shock collar controller in hand. He opened the door and began to walk down the stairs, turning his gaze to Krystal.
"Alright, time's up," he told her authoritatively. "You've left me no choice but to-"
He froze. Krystal's shock collar was gone. He barely had time to toss the remote aside before she lunged at him.
As Kevin stepped through to door into the hands of his attackers, these hands seized him, dragging him away from his fans. As he was carried away, he turned his head to the latter, shouting, "Go! Get back to the stage!!" before a group of armed hunters moved back to the doorway, blocking the girls from view. Kevin watched anxiously, fearing more gunfire, but none came. The boys, it seemed, had the doorway quite effectively blocked, and the girls on the other side were uncertain of whether they should heed Kevin's words or attempt to fight through the hunters. The choice was made for them, it seemed, as Kevin was quickly dragged out of the backstage area through a backdoor to an alley, where a guard- dead, it looked like- was lying on the ground. From there Kevin was blindfolded, tied up, and forced into the trunk of a car. Duct tape was also wrapped tightly over his mouth. He was then driven away from the alley.
As he lay cramped in the dark trunk- not that it mattered that it was dark, since he was wearing a blindfold- Kevin began to wonder exactly what was in store for him. When he had offered himself to his captors, he'd been thinking of the girls, not of himself- it wasn't even that he was being selfless; he hadn't thought at all about what might happen to him. Given the same choice again, he'd do the same thing again, but… well, all of a sudden, he was a little scared. These people all had guns, so escape was almost definitely out of the question. It dawned on him that these people must have been responsible for Nick's disappearance. Was he going to see his younger brother when this car arrived at its destination? Such thoughts floated through his mind as the motion of the car jostled him around, at one point causing him to bang his head on what felt like an Xbox a few times. He reflexively tried to lift his hands up to rub his head, but of course, his hands were still tied up, so he just struggled for a few moments before giving up and shifting his weight to move his head to a safer spot.
After some time- he had no idea exactly how long- the car came to a stop. Some light shone through the blindfold as he heard the trunk open, and several hands lifted him roughly, slid some sort of plastic bag over his whole body, and then placed him in some kind of large wooden box. This box was then carried through an area full of noise- the sounds of cars and people were everywhere. Kevin struggled as much as he could, attempting to bang on the sides of the box with his feet, but he was confined to such a small space that it was difficult to get his legs moving quickly enough.
Gradually, those noises softened into silence. All he could hear were the footsteps of the people carrying him. After a few very anxious minutes, the lid was lifted from the box and his blindfold removed. He sat up immediately.
Looking around, he saw that he was in a cemetery- deep within a cemetery, out of sight of anyone but the boys who had taken him there. As his eyes wandered from the faraway gravestones to his own position, he realized that he was amongst some bushes. His captors dragged the box, which he was still sitting in, further into bushes, where even a visitor who entered this part of the cemetery would be unable to see him.
As a cold sweat began to form on his brow, he saw one of his captors lift a black box from somewhere in the bushes. Inside the box was a sort of airtight hard plastic mask, with a long rubber tube connected to the mouth; a funnel; and a bottle of hand lotion. The duct tape was ripped from his face, and his mouth was free for just a moment before the mask was fitted over it. He watched from his seated position as the funnel was attached to the free end of the tube with duct tape, and nestled in a bush maybe three feet off the ground, open end facing upwards. Four or more firm hands held his head and shoulders in place as one of the remaining boys squirted a glob of hand lotion onto his left hand, and then passed the bottle to his neighbor. The first boy rubbed the lotion all over both his hands, as thoroughly as possible, and then began to unzip his fly. Realizing at last what was going to happen to him, Kevin began to struggle, but the hands on him only gripped him more tightly, and no matter how much he tried, he could hardly budge an inch in any direction. His screams were muffled by the mask as his mouth opened and closed silently inside it, trying to call for help, praying that someone- anyone- might come to his rescue…
The rape of Kevin Jonas had begun.