Asunder 11
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Special thanks to BMSH, ErinJordan, Caranath, max2013, lucy62, sm2003495, and julzdagger88. As always, reviews mean a lot to me, but I feel like I'm getting my grove back just a little bit now. The first chapter of this was written almost two years ago, without an outline for the rest – and then I had a serious stroke out of the blue. No high blood pressure, no diabetes, just a case of meningitis and then a stroke in a matter of two weeks that then took a year's worth of rehab. And then came six months to figure out if I could still write. I'm still figuring it out to be honest, but throughout this story I'm starting to get a knack back for expressing what's going on in my head. Now whether that's good or bad, lol, is another issue…
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"I. Don't. Know." Joe let out an exhausted huff and flopped backwards on his couch, one arm falling across his eyes. "I am so flippin' tired. I need more coffee."
Vanessa contemplated bringing up the fact that it was two o'clock in the morning and anybody with any sense wouldn't be trying to know anything. Now probably wasn't the time, for either knowing anything or for anybody with sense, depending on how you looked at it. She got up, her hand brushing over her fiancée's knee as she passed. "I'll get it."
Joe sat up as she returned, accepting the steaming cup and downing a few swallows. "Ugh, too hot." He returned to the laptop, edging through mounds of case notes.
Ness smiled a little. "You're supposed to wait a minute before you drink it, love."
"Yeah, I know." Joe muttered, distracted. "I'm trying to figure out anyone in the Network that I ever drank a cup with. Unfortunately, all I'm finding is that I drink way too much coffee."
"There was never any doubt about that, hon." Vanessa tipped her head sideways, casting an inquiring look. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but I don't know exactly what this Network is."
Joe rubbed both fists across his eyeballs. "Nobody does, aside from the standard 'government agency' answer. Actually, there aren't that many folks that could come up with that much."
Vanessa smiled. "And what? You slipped up and spit the word out? I doubt that."
"As you should." Joe reached out an arm, pulling her in for a hug. "I'll tell you about the Network at some point, what I know anyway; right now, I'm too bloody sleepy. I've realized I don't want this to be a secret between us."
"Is this what Frank is doing? What your uncle does?" Vanessa frowned.
Joe shook his head, before downing a bit more coffee. "No, but we've both worked for them on occasion… when it was clearly the lesser of two evils… wait! Nessa, that's it!"
"That's what!?"
Rapid typing precluded an answer. "Lesser of two evils… What was her name?... I should know this… can't believe I can't remember… come on… didn't have a cup of coffee, must have had four gallons… that babysitter comment… sitting right there the whole time…"
Finally, the muttering stopped and one case file remained on the screen.
Ellen.
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Third sun up. Or was it the fourth? Hard to tell. Frank sat up, slowly, stretching out each limb. Still sore, but functional… mostly. That was charitable for the right arm, more accurately labelled as shredded but not broken. Probably. He shrugged. It didn't matter.
More water. It was simple as plans went, but it worked as the main focus for the day. The trickling spring he'd found had kept him alive the last few days, but nothing more. He'd sought out Karena with what little strength he had, crawling amongst the distressed earth, before crumbling back to nurse his injuries… and his anger. This island would not be his final resting place, especially not courtesy of Nicholas Shuman. It would not. That simple.
There was something… else… here. Half remembered, if that much. During the day, he foraged, settling on a dismal tiny cave as home base, ferreting away a selection of berries, constructing traps for unsuspecting game, beginning a program of carefully considered thievery. At night, however, he dreamed.
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A nod from Clipboard resulted in Frank's hands being yanked up another notch, a maneuver that required three men to achieve and stole the air from his taut body. An audible pop sounded as the abused right shoulder slid from its socket, eliciting the scream Frank had so hopelessly tried to squelch.
"I see it in your eyes, Frank. You cannot do this much longer. Giving in benefits both of us. I receive the information I need to try Joe; you receive your life. Joseph benefits as well."
Hurts…no, ignore him…liar… don't ask… "H-helps Joe? How?"
"If I can convict Joseph based on what you tell me, then he need never spend any time in this room. I promise you Rao will never touch him. Now talk."
He doesn't have Joe…
Spin a load of bull and I'll… live… and … and… betray Joe…
"Last opportunity, Mr. Hardy."
An opportunity…stop, please… to buy my life… by betraying my brother…
Frank desperately gathered the swimming thoughts in his brain to utter a final word, sealing his fate. "NO."
The silence stretched, Clipboard's face working through rose and crimson before settling into the first stages of violet. "Fool boy! Fine." He pivoted on a heel and reached the chamber door before he spoke to Rao.
The gargantuan man lurked behind the bloodied form stretched in the frame, the pole in his hand thumping a staccato rhythm on the floor. "Still eager, Rao? Very well, do as you please. Just be certain he remains alive for the gallows in the morning."
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Frank awoke with a gasp. A dozen daybreaks now, and still the horrific dream always ended there. He could painfully remember the following morning, of course, often when he desperately tried to avoid it…
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Sometime long after dark, Rao had cut him from the beam frame, dragging the crumpled form to the foot of the gallows alongside the compound's east wall. He'd lashed Frank's wrists together and then staked them to the ground, leaving him prone to wait out the night.
An hour or so ago, Frank had become vaguely aware of other men dumped along the stone barrier, his mind sporadically participating in his impending execution. Now that the sky bore the first hints of indigo, it wouldn't be long.
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There were hours between the two dregs of nightmare, one waking, one not. He'd known that for years. He'd even scoured his memory for it at the start, always ending with a pit of dread opening a gulf in his soul, terrified for himself and more so for Joe. Eventually, he done the only logical thing. The only option that maintained his sanity. Sealed it in a box and never spoke of it again. Never allowed it to send even a tendril to the surface. Now though, now…
Now the terror was still there, struggling to be heard, but it was being drowned out by a tide of rage.
A more introspective Frank, the one that had lived most of the last twenty six odd years, would have wondered why. Yes, he was on Ranei, and he wasn't precisely filled with fond remembrance. Yes, he was after an agent that had a personal tie to his family, even to his mother. Yes, his partner, pain that she often was, was unaccounted for. And yes, he was back outside this God-forsaken fortress. Apprehension would have been perfectly reasonable, perhaps even fear, but not this overwhelming anger.
This version of Frank, however, wasn't pondering any of that. This version of him was stoking his anger, reigning it into focus, preparing. He could feel it. Something was coming.
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Shuman smiled, chuckling to himself. "So, particular plans, mon Capitan?"
"Oh, I do not know, Nicholas." The elderly man grinned, gazing at the mud-covered figure before him, before launching a kick into the vulnerable stomach. "It seems to have been roughing it a while in our forest. I might let it spend a night or two with us here, before I decide. I do tend to find house guests to be most entertaining."
"Excellent thought." Shuman yanked at the end of a chain from the charred remnant of the wall and snapped it around the filth streaked wrist. "Nighty-night, my friend."
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"Joe?"
"Hey Dad." Joe led Vanessa into the house on Elm, settling on the striped sofa. "I know who sent the note."
Fenton closed the door to his study and went to sit with the pair, noting they both appeared exhausted. "Who?"
"Ellen. Elias Dahl's assistant."
"You sure?" Fenton nodded, unconsciously agreeing even as he asked.
"I don't have any proof, if that's what you're asking, but yeah. Nessa and I were going through case notes all night. She fits."
"She won't be easy to track." Fenton leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
"I'm suspecting she'll do the tracking." Joe caught Vanessa's hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "It's weird that she's back now, though. Assuming she did get involved with Nicholas Shuman from the start, or even left the so-called straight and narrow of the Network later, why target me now? It's been eight years."
Fenton tapped his fingers against his lip, thinking. "The start. I think we need to talk to Joseph."
Vanessa looked surprised, but Joe just nodded. "Not Gray, then."
"No."
"Ok. No such thing as coincidences, huh Dad?" Joe smiled, a tight expression that ignored his teeth, before grabbing his phone.
"Joe Hardy, in Bayport." "His nephew." "Yes, I'll hold." "No, Bayport. B-A-Y-P-O-R-T." An exaggerated eyeroll followed. "Joe. You know, like the same as his name." "Sure, still holding."
"No, no, no… Not muzak. You ever hear 'Come on Feel the Noize' played by a string quartet? It's like Lawrence Welk met the Andrews Sisters and they all decided to get stoned." Joe kept a steady sarcastic stream of chatter under his breath. "Oh, great, now it's a Pearl Jam medley on the harp and marimba. Awesome…"
"No, sorry, you're not awesome… well you might be, I suppose… Anyways, talking to myself. I'm here… Yes, I'll continue to hold." The eyeroll made a second appearance.
"Hi, Uncle Joseph. It's Joe."
"Yeah, sorry, was talking to myself." Joe managed a slightly embarrassed look.
"Look, we've had a bit of a problem here… No, everyone's fine…"
"Poisoning actually."
"Mom and me."
"No, hey, she's fine, really."
"No, she's volunteering down at the Children's Home this morning."
"Fine. Yeah, me too."
"The thing is, it appears to be linked to the Network."
"No, Dad and I have that part under control."
Joe got up and started to walk. "Yeah, he's here."
Fenton started to reach for the phone, but Joe batted his hand away.
"We think it's someone tied in to Frank, too."
"What? Why?"
The walk became an agitated pace. "Where is he?"
"Uncle Joseph, I need to know. Where is he?"
"How long?"
Joe blanched.
"How long?"
Fenton and Vanessa were both animatedly gesturing now, but both were ignored.
"Oh, God…"
The phone tumbled to the floor.
Vanessa found her voice first. "Joe? Honey?"
"We, ah, I… I have to run to my house… for a minute… and then the office…" Joe's face was pale, but plans were running amok behind his eyes. "Dad, if you can scout out Ellen from here…"
The land line began to ring, chiming in with an urgency that was ignored.
"Joe, what's going on?" Fenton demanded an explanation.
"I, ah, I don't know." He shot a hard look at his father before pulling Vanessa in for a desperate kiss and whispered promise. "Take of Nessa for me. I have to go."
"Go?" Vanessa's voice trembled. "Joe… where?"
He paused two steps before the door, closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When the blue eyes snapped open, they were filled with determination and pain.
"Ranei."
To be continued: