Chapter 9

Shawn knew his fever was starting to rise again, he was freezing cold and shaking violently. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat he was currently restrained to, as he tried to find a position that caused his aching body the least amount of pain, but nothing seemed to help, "Is it cold in here, or is it just me?" He asked, mostly just to break the silence. Forster had been watching him pretty intently for a while now, and it was really starting to creep the fake psychic out, "Ow!" He winced, as his hand landed on a sharp, splintered area of the chair.

"What is it?" Forster asked in concern. By now, Shawn had pretty much given up on trying to work this guy out.

Shawn's eyes widened, he couldn't let Forster find out about the splintered part on his chair, after all, it could be his only means of escape, "My side, it stings a little." He half-lied, truth was, the area around his chest tube really did feel quite sore.

"Hmm...It's probably infected."

Shawn raised an eyebrow as the doctor started to inspect the area, "So...Where did you take Sanders' body earlier?"

Forster looked up, "It's definitely infected." He felt his head, "And you're burning up too...You need to rest."

"...And why were you gone so long?" He continued.

Forster sighed, "I was removing his organs."

"Where's the body now?"

"In another room, I'm going to move it later." Forster told him, "Now get some rest."

Shawn closed his eyes and waited until he could hear Forster backing away, before starting to slowly rub the rope that was bounding his wrists against the sharp section of his chair.

"So what now?" Juliet asked, as she, Henry and Gus stood around Lassiter's desk, "None of the evidence we've found so far tells us were Shawn is, and we're running out of time."

Lassiter, who was sitting behind his desk, was just about to answer when his phone started to ring, "Detective Lassiter."

"Detective, it's Dr Samuals." The doctor replied, "I'm just phoning to let you know that one of our doctors, Dr Sanders, didn't turn up to work this morning"

"Isn't it a little early to file a missing persons report?"

"Well yes, and normally I wouldn't have mentioned anything, it's just..." Samuals paused for a moment, "The other day at the hospital, Forster was there when Mr Spencer divined that Dr Sanders was homeless."

Lassiter gave a heavy sigh, "Alright, we'll be right there."

"What is it?" Juliet asked.

Lassiter hung up the phone and turned to her, "Looks like we may have another murder victim..."

Shawn waited for Forster to leave with Sanders' body before he carried on rubbing his wrist restraints against the splinted area of his chair. It took a good few minutes, but the rope finally came apart and he was able to get his hands free. After rubbing at his wrists to get the circulation flowing again, he bent down and started to untie the ropes around his ankles, wincing at the sharp pain in his side.

Shawn stood up shakily and grabbed the back of his chair to steady himself, frowning at how weak he felt. Once he thought he was ready to start moving, he left go and managed to walk a couple of steps before his legs gave in and he landed in a heap on the floor. The fake psychic shrieked out in pain, and grabbed his side, pulling his hand away when he noticed how wet and sticky the area felt, "Oh, that's not good..." He cringed as he saw the blood seeping through his hospital gown, and the way his chest tube was now sitting at an odd angle.

Pressing his hand against his side in a bid to stop the blood with one hand, and using the other hand to push himself onto his knees, Shawn slowly managed to crawl over to the nearest wall and used it as support to get himself back on his feet. Once he was standing again, he leant heavily against the wall, and used the breathing techniques that Lassiter had shown him to try and calm his fast breathing. After a moment or two he was ready to start moving again, and used the wall for support as he made his way over to the door, smiling in relief when it actually opened.

His smile quickly faltered when he was met with a set of stairs, "Seriously?!"

There was another room, just at the side of the room he'd been held in, and before making his way up the stairs, Shawn took a peek inside. The room appeared to be some sort of make-shift operating room, with a stretcher in the centre, and all sorts of medical paraphernalia lying around it, not to mention it looked much more sanitary than the room Shawn had been in, So this must be where he takes out their organs, The fake psychic tried the door to see if it would open, I wonder if there's anything in there to stop this bleeding... But it was no use, the door was locked.

Sighing, he slowly made his way back over to the stairs, and gripped the metal banister tight as he made his way up them, one agonisingly slow step at at a time, his protesting body forcing him to stop and take a breather every few steps. Eventually he managed to reach the top, and found himself in what appeared to be some sort of old abandoned warehouse.

By now, Shawn was shaking violently, his breathing was rapid, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest. Feeling too weak at that moment to continue moving, he allowed himself to slowly slide down the wall, and put his head between his knees as he waited for the lightheadedness and nausea to pass. When he was feeling a little better, he got himself back onto his feet, and made his way slowly towards the exit, still using the walls for support, but leaning against them more heavily now as exhaustion started to take over, and his eyes started to blur around the edges.

Shawn was feeling a lot sicker now, and could almost hear his body begging him to give up, but he just couldn't, the exit was way too close. After all this was probably going to be the only chance of escape he would get, and even if the exertion killed him, at least he'd have died trying.

A weak, lopsided grin appeared on his face as he finally reached the exit, pressing the button that controlled the door, and resting his head against the wall as he waited for it to open. He made his way unsteadily outside, his eyes widening when he realised he knew exactly where he was, it was an old warehouse, not too far from the Psych office. He and Gus had passed the place every time they'd gone to get their pineapple smoothies. Thinking about it now, considering the girl had been attacked right outside their office, it made sense that the place Forster had been holding them captive would have been close by.

He let out a frustrated groan when he suddenly realised there was no more wall to hold onto, and took a few moments to compose himself before attempting to walk again, unaided this time. For the first step or two things seemed to be going well, and he actually started to think that maybe he could do this, but then every inch of his body started to scream out in agony, and the whole world started to spin. The next thing he became aware of, was half siting, half lying on his backside. He tried to get up, but it was no use, he just didn't have to strength to do so.

Finally, conceding defeat, he lay down fully on the ground, and let his head fall to the right, his eyes suddenly narrowing when something caught his attention.

A cellphone lying on the ground.

A small relieved laugh escaped the fake psychic's mouth, and he extended his arm out as far as he could to try and reach for the phone. It took him a while, but he was finally able the grab the object. As he turned on the phone's screen he was met with a photograph of Sanders' and a woman who was presumably his wife...

"I dedicate this sacrifice to you Shawn!" Forster announced as he slashed the homeless doctor's throat.

"No!" Shawn cried out.

Shawn shut his eyes tight in a bid to bury that memory, and then went back to the task in hand, dialling the very first number that came to mind.

"Hello?"

Shawn smiled at the sound of his best friend's voice, "Hey buddy, You remembered to TiVo the Evil Dead right?"

"Oh my god, Shawn!" Gus' exclamation, getting everyones attention. Shawn could just about make out two or three other familiar voices in the background, "Are you alright?"

Shawn took his hand away from his side and raised an eyebrow when he noticed that something was missing, "Hm..."

"Shawn?" Gus asked in concern.

"The tube thingie's supposed to come out, right?"

"Oh my god..." His friend's voice went up an octave or two, "You removed the chest tube?!"

"No I didn't remove the chest tube." Shawn rolled his eyes, "I fell over and it removed itself."

"Shawn, where are you?" The panic was unmissable in Gus' voice, the situation had now turned into a medical emergency. They needed to find Shawn, and fast.

Shawn was about to answer when he suddenly felt as though he was about to throw up. Using what little strength he had left, he managed to lean his body over slightly, before he started to dry heave violently. If there'd actually been any food in his stomach, he was positive that he would have been projectile vomiting right at that moment. He could hear his friend calling out his name, but there was no way he could answer. When the retching finally stopped, he held the phone shakily up to his ear again, "Don't...Feel...Good."

Gus didn't need to see his friend to know how sick and exhausted he was feeling, the sound of his voice spoke volumes, "Hey man, you're gonna be fine." He was trying to reassure himself just as much as Shawn, "Now, where are you?"

"Warehouse..."

"A warehouse?" Gus repeated, "Where?"

"Psych..."

"Shawn...Psych's an office, not a warehouse"

"No...Near..." Shawn managed, "Smoothies..."

"Near? Smoothies? Shawn what are you talking about?" Gus asked in confusion, "Shawn?" He asked again when his friend didn't answer, but it was no use, Shawn was no longer conscious. Gus heard a small thud as Sanders' phone fell from his friends limp grasp and landed on the ground beside him, "Shawn?!"