Chapter 4

Terry stood nursing her fourth cup of coffee that morning. The morning had started extremely early. A nearby bank robbery initiated this early morning. It was unusual for them to be doing a small bank job but a note had been left. It was a simplistic note written in a child's hand writing. Surprisingly the job had been done before the bank opened so there were no witnesses, only the note and lack of money. The job was very tidy. The only things broken were the doors and locks tat protected the money.

She took another sip of coffee as David fast forwarded the security tape to the time of the robbery. They watched carefully as the robber approached the door forcing his way in; the sun just barely rising. The robber wore all black clothing with a ski mask and what looked like nylon beneath it defending against any kind of identification. His shoulders were hunched and his head hung low. He proceeded to pack wads of cash into a nondescript duffel bag with slow, somber movements. Only once did the robber lift his head and even then not fully. He turned towards the door and looked directly at the camera, placed the note gently on the counter and resumed his escape through the door, head hanging lower than before.

This whole robbery gave off the feeling of regret. Terry looked at the note in her hand. It had been in an envelope addressed to David and her. Inside was a very simple note, Find Him; that was all it said. She kept a straight expression as a thought she didn't want to admit crossed her mind. She was grateful for the privacy; she didn't want to announce her thought to all the agents. She could feel David looking at her.

"You think it's Don don't you?" Terry nodded slowly.

"It would make sense. Charlie kidnapped, Don disappears, not necessarily kidnapped, then last night his bank account is completely emptied, and now the robbery and note."

"Well if it is him, then what is he doing and why?"

"I'm betting the 'why' is Charlie, but I'm not sure what he's doing."

"If he's trying to save Charlie, then what is he trying to save him from?"

"Let's find them before we have to find out"

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Alan sat on the plastic reclining chair listening to the sounds of the waves. The warm sunshine felt good. He let out a contented sigh. He was glad that Charlie talked him into this vacation. It felt good to be relaxing on a warm, peaceful beach. Turning the page of his book he took another sip of his coke. It was a good day. He continued to read away the morning serenely sipping his drink.

After a while a foreboding feeling crept into his heart. Something didn't feel right. Perhaps he just needed to stretch his legs. Getting up he walked up and down the beach letting small waves crash against his legs. His thoughts drifted towards his sons. He should call them and make sure they're alright. He stood thinking about this proposition for a moment then shook his head he as being silly. Why wouldn't his sons be fine? He began to read his book again warming his feet in the host sand, soon forgetting the foreboding feeling.

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Don stared at the bag in his hand. It was hideous what he did. He had to do it; his brother's life was at stake. It was so unfair. They didn't do anything to deserve this. Especially Charlie, he was living a peaceful life teaching math; that was it, harmless math. If anyone didn't deserve this mess, it was Charlie. Don threw the bag laden with money down at the drop off and stalked back to the hotel.

It was a disgusting little hotel. He'd been to it a couple of times to apprehend criminals. Now it was his turn to be the criminal hiding at the hotel. It was the perfect place to hide. The owner didn't ask questions as long as he received money for each room. When he arrived at his room there was an audio tape waiting for him. He didn't want to listen. They couldn't possibly be telling him that they were returning Charlie; it never happened that way and it wouldn't happen now.

He pressed play knowing what he would hear. It was all he ever heard, no matter what he did. I was all they would let him hear. He listened morosely to his brother. He didn't understand; he did what they asked him. He arrived at the drop off point on time. Why were they doing this? This wasn't right, he didn't do anything wrong during this job. His mind slowly went numb as his listened to the horrid recording, but he never stopped hearing it.

He couldn't do this; this was more than he could handle, it was over his head. He'd met his match. He didn't want to listen. He wanted to fast forward to the end where a message always resided. He couldn't do it though; he couldn't skip past his brother's pain. He didn't have the strength to skip it, but he couldn't listen either. He stood there, mesmerized by his brother's screams. His heart broken to pieces, he tried to block out the screams; he tried to think of a way to save his brother from the agony he was causing him; but he couldn't, he couldn't save his brother in his greatest time of need.

There was a list at the end, a list of robberies he was to perform with the exact location and times they were to be done. He knew he would do what they asked, he had no other options. He needed to get help. He knew he should that he should return to the F.B.I and his friends that would protect and help him in his hour of need, but he knew he wouldn't. He had no choice. So much had happened, so much pain was caused by him; it killed him that he could cause so much pain on his brother in only three days.

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The silence was deafening. He lost all sense of time. He listened for any kind of sound, anything. He needed something to listen to, something to distract him, to give his mind something to do. He tried to escape from the world. He failed to slip into unconsciousness. He just wanted to sleep. He never felt anything when he slept; no pain, no fear, the deepening hunger never came, and he could forget his extreme thirst. But no, that would be too merciful to let him sleep until rescue; rescue or death. He tried to swallow but the gag was tied so tightly he didn't have enough movement to swallow. His mouth was so dry. He could feel every part of his mouth cracking. He would give anything for a nice cool drink of water.

His stomach had stopped grumbling long ago as if realizing despite its demanding it would remain empty. The desperate hunger turned his stomach to an icy pain. He tried to remember how long a person could live without food and water. H furrowed his brow, he tried to think; he knew it wasn't a very long time. Three, three days before a person would die from dehydration. That was a sobering thought. How long did they intend to keep him? Would they give him water? How long would they keep him alive? And would they keep him alive once whatever they were using him for was done, or just kill him and dump him? A month, that's how long he could live without food; four small weeks; not all that strong was he? That was a depressing thought. He didn't want to go a month without food. He didn't know if he could.

Charlie jerked when the door swung open softly. Something wasn't right. They never entered quietly or passively. They always entered with a bang of the door and acted violently. For a few moments he thought that his despairing mind imagined the entrance of his captors. Then a thick hand grabbed the gag, jerked his head off the ground untying the gag with the other hand letting Charlie's head drop when he finished. Barely completing the gag he pried a finger into his mouth attempting to wrench it open. Charlie bit down on the finger, grinding it between his teeth. Blood filled his mouth; he could feel the skin tearing apart, and he liked it. The guy's yelling seemed to echo blissfully. It was his turn to bellow in pain.

He jerked his hand to get away but the kid's jaws were clenched like a crocodile. He tried to shake his finger lose. He gritted his teeth in pain. He could feel his skin ripping from the bone. He had to get loose. He slammed his foot down on the kid's broken arm. The kid hollered in pain, quickly releasing his finger. Rage filled him. The kid had gotten the best of him and would do it again if he got the chance. Trying to contain his anger he gathered a few items from outside the room. The kid chose to learn the hard way that fighting back would not be tolerated. Using techniques he'd learned through the years he tortured the kid, disciplining him for his violence. It was delightful hearing his pain vocalized. He could always tell what hurt the most simply by how loud the victim became. He used the worst methods he knew and the kid's voice was soon hoarse and disappearing.

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Pain, everything was pain. How long had it been? He couldn't think, his mind went numb long ago. He couldn't remember what it was like not to be in pain. The pain consumed him, he couldn't escape it. He wanted to escape. He wanted it all to end. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. He couldn't. Every time they came he thought maybe, maybe this time they would kill him. They were back, beating him again. He was still alive. They were still beating him. He wouldn't die. He just wouldn't die. He didn't know why, but they wouldn't kill him and he wouldn't die. There was no mercy. They simply left him in limbo; his mind was numb but the pain remained. They were truly merciless.

He resided in two kinds of darkness. The physical darkness caused by the blindfold and was a constant companion. The other was frightening, haunting, yet he longed for it. It was his safe haven from the pain, the fear, despair, and loneliness. He had no lifeline to cling to, no one to depend on, only darkness. He needed his brother; he needed Donnie. Donnie was strong, he could get him through. But Donnie wasn't here and he never would be, no one would. He would never be found; left here to endure this slow, agonizing death. Suddenly his attacker stopped beating him. He pried his mouth open without resistance and poured boiling liquid down his throat. He tried to turn aside or close his mouth but the hand held firm. He was forced to swallow or suffocate. A searing pain consumed his throat, chest, and stomach as he gulped the boiling water. Coughing and wheezing he sucked in as much of the hot air, desperately trying to cool his burning throat. Fighting against his bonds he tried to curl into a defensive ball but he couldn't and remained just as vulnerable as before.