Retaliation
Chapter
4
Blood and Typing
"Despair is a great incentive to honourable death" - Quintus Curtius Rufus
Aaron vaguely felt hands around his ankles as he was dragged away from the pavement and into a vehicle. The knife was still embedded in his side, and he tried to hold it still as he was dragged, He pressed his trembling fingers around the hilt of the knife, pressing hard onto the blade, feeling blood force its way between his fingers.
His one thought was to keep the knife where it was. He knew that if it was removed he would have minutes of life left, if that.
He thought that he was in the trunk of a car, but even working that out was beyond him now. He lay still, panting breaths, light headed and faint, waiting to die.
-0-0-0-
Dave forced his eyes into focus and looked at the screen of the laptop. He had managed about a quarter of a page. His hand was sending bolts of pain along his arm into his chest, just moving it slightly was agony. He knew that when Rush came back he needed to have more done, but he couldn't force his hand to work for him, and he rested it in his lap and waited.
This was the longest he had been left alone, and he had awful feelings about what he was doing. He was so afraid that Aaron and Spencer would be in danger because of the book. Was Rush right? Should he have left that chapter out of the book altogether?
He blinked hard, and berated himself for second guessing his decision to include it. Rush was winning this battle if he could make him doubt himself.
He looked down and checked his feet. The blood on top of his feet was dry and hard. The blood had stopped flowing now that he was keeping his legs as still as possible. He wondered if his shins were broken.
None of this really mattered if Rush was going to kill him. He looked down at the hand resting in his lap. It was almost as if he was looking at someone else's hand; it seemed disembodied from himself. He tried to move his arm to direct his hand back to the key board, but he couldn't move it.
'Move, damn it!' he hissed, and tried again. This time, taking all his effort to ignore the pain, he lifted his hand to the keyboard and pressed his thumb down on another letter. His eyes were watering with the pain, and hampering his vision still more. He bit down on his lip and with a supreme effort typed another letter.
-0-0-0-
Rush was excited. He had two of the three now, and this last one had been unbelievably easy. He thought of the man bleeding to death in the trunk of his car, and he laughed out loud in his excitement.
'Hotchner, I've got you!' he said, still laughing. He just hoped that he wouldn't die. Corpses were so heavy, and he wanted it out of the trunk of his car asap. He was glad that he had put down plastic – at least most of the blood would be caught.
He drove carefully through the city. He wasn't planning on doing a Ted Bundy and getting stopped for a stupid traffic violation.
'I'll probably get stopped for driving too well!' he said out loud, and laughed again.
He drove out to the hut where David Rossi was nailed to the floor – that thought made him smile, but he didn't say anything this time. His mother – the old witch – had said that talking to ones self was a sign of madness, and he was blowed if he would fall into that trap. He could remember the day that she had told him about his father, that he had raped her and impregnated her, and she wanted to kill the spawn, but left it too late.
Now she was dead, and rotting away happily in a crate in their living room, he could make that connection with the father that he never knew.
He wrinkled his nose up at the memory of what his mother was doing now. He was glad she was dead, but man, did she stink! Her name wasn't Rush, it was Simmonds, but he took his father's name when he killed her.
All he wanted to do now was please the spirit of his father and carry on his work. First the retaliation for the libellous drivel in the book, then kill as his father did.
He pulled on the hand brake and climbed out of the car. He glanced at the trunk, but decided to leave Hotchner there for now. He would wait until day break when it was easier for him to see, and easier to prevent Hotchner from running off. Not that he would get far with a four inch blade in his guts.
'Four inches of cold steel!' he laughed, and banged his bloody hand down on the trunk as he passed it.
-0-0-0-
As the car braked suddenly, Aaron shifted in the pool of clotting blood in the trunk, and cried out as the blade moved in him. The blood flow had slowed, but the movement started up the bleeding again. He whimpered softly and pressed the skin around the hilt of the knife, thick warm blood making his fingers slippery and their movement sluggish. He felt the car move as the driver got out, and expected to be let out of his cramped prison. But the UnSub banged down on the trunk and left it closed.
Aaron felt cold. He was losing far too much blood and he was wet from the rain. He lay still in the trunk though, hoping that the lack of movement would help the wound to stop bleeding. Whatever the case though, he knew that if he didn't get help very soon, he would die.
-0-0-0-
'But I was only minutes behind him!' Reid said, terror in his voice. 'How in hell did he get hit so quickly?'
'This is bad.' Morgan said, noting the extent of the blood pool. 'The only positive thing I can say is if Hotch was dead, then what would have been the point of taking his body.'
'So he was alive when he was put into the car or whatever vehicle that the UnSub was using.'
'Probably.' Morgan said, wishing he could be more positive, but when dealing with a psychopath, anything is possible.
They arranged to have the scene taped off and lights erected so that they could thoroughly process the scene. The CSU arrived and began to take samples and photographs, but to the team it was obvious what had happened. The UnSub had taken Hotch by surprise, and shot or stabbed him, bundled him into a car, and driven off.
There were no shell casings, but that didn't mean much. If there had been any, the UnSub would have taken them with him.
'Reid, get as many security tapes as you can find. I shall go back and check the one's that we already have.' Morgan said. 'And we need to get a profile together.
Morgan felt that he was trying to catch the wind. There seemed to be no leads to follow, even after all the evidence they had, they had nothing.
He sat at his desk and put the first tape in the machine again.
-0-0-0-
Rush entered the hut and went to where Dave was trying to type. Dave looked up at Rush, and saw blood on his hands and the front of his shirt. His heart sank and he felt sick. What had he done?
Rush looked at the screen, and saw the few lines that Dave had managed.
'Is that it?' he fumed, and he hit Dave as hard as he could in the face. Dave's head rocked back and his neck cracked.
'I c-can't go faster.' Dave said through bleeding split lips.
'I have some incentive for you in the car.' he said. 'I will fetch it when it's light. Type now, you libellous bastard! I'm letting you live to do this. If you don't do it, I will kill you here and now.'
Dave pressed another key with his mangled hand. He tried to wipe the blood from the keyboard so that he could see the keys, but it made it worse. He wasn't good at typing, and not being able to see the keys made it harder. He used his thumb to wipe blood from his eyes and set to type, ignoring the pain.
Incentive, Rush had said. What the hell did that mean? Oh god what had he done? He remembered the blood on his hands. Had he killed someone? Who was it? He hit another key and he checked it on the screen.
'May I have some water ?' he asked. His throat was dry and sore and he felt ill from dehydration. His head was beginning to throb. Rush went to the bench and took a bottle of water from the shelf above it. He took it to Dave, and placed the bottle in his mouth and tipped it. Dave gagged on the water, and choked as it came too fast. The bottle was removed from his lips and Dave vomited onto the floor, losing all the water he had just taken, and emptying his stomach. He heaved and retched on nothing until he tasted fresh blood in his mouth. He coughed and choked until at last the fit was over. He had pulled at the nails in the frenzy and fresh blood welled up on top of his feet again, and he cried aloud as pain from everywhere seemed to take over his body. He leaned back on his chair and panted in pain.
'It's getting lighter now. I will fetch your incentive.' Rush said with a smile as if nothing had happened. He left the room, and went outside.
-0-0-0-
Aaron heard him coming back. He tried desperately to think of a plan, but all he could think of was to stay alive. The trunk was opened and the dawning light shone into his eyes, He closed them against the light and waited.
'You can either get out on your own, or I can drag you out. I would recommend the former.'
Aaron tried to move carefully so as not to disturb the knife, but he couldn't move at all. Suddenly he felt hands under his arms and he was dragged out of the trunk, pulling his body straight, and exquisite new agonies reverberated through him. He groaned as he was dropped to the floor outside the car.
'Now on your feet.' he was ordered, and to show he meant business, Rush kicked him under the chin. Aaron rolled onto his back, clutching at the knife handle with both hands, desperately holding it still. He slowly curled his body and rolled onto his side, from where he forced himself onto his knees. Using the car to help him, he hauled himself upright onto his feet, and stood swaying in the early morning light.
'Now move.' he said and pulled Aaron away from the car by his shoulder, Aaron was bent double, holding the knife, and trying to walk. He fell as they reached the door of the hut, onto his knees and then all the way onto his side. He passed out and his hands fell away from the knife handle. The sun's low rays caught the metal in its light. Dave looked up from where he was typing, and saw the incentive.
'Oh my god, Aaron.' he whispered huskily, as he saw the man he loved collapse in the doorway. 'What have you done to him?' He asked, looking at Rush who was standing over him like a hunter over his prey.
'Taught him a lesson, as I did for you.' he answered. 'This one is strong. The next one should be easier.'
'Next one?' Dave said, shocked.
Rush dragged Aaron into the room by one arm and rolled him over against the wall. The knife moved in his side, and more blood flowed.
'He didn't write any of this!' Dave said, distressed at what he was seeing. 'All he did was his job. This book has nothing to do with him.'
'He sent my father to his grave.' Rush snarled. 'Get on with your bloody work, or I will hit you again.' He picked up the ratchet handle from the ground and waved it at Dave. 'I'll use this on you again, except I don't want you dead until you have finished this work. I can use it on this agent you wrote about though.' And he raised it above his head, over Aaron's inert body.
