Hmmmm, Guess I could tell you to look through the ToS at the bottom of the page, or we could all just use common sense and admit they aren't mine in even the least little bit. I'll leave it up to you…


Chapter 10: In a World that Tries to Take Them Away…I'm Taking Them Back

Shadows quivered on the wall as the candle flickered, then fizzled to nothing. You have got to be kidding me, Shawn groused silently as he slowly made his way down the dark hallway of the cabin, senses alert to anything out of the ordinary. I'm going to need a few more lucky breaks to get through this in one piece...

Shawn fervently hoped his luck hadn't run out with his escape from the room he had been trapped in until roughly ten minutes prior. Just when he had been about to admit the situation was hopeless, that he might have landed in a fiasco he couldn't talk his way out of, Shawn had found salvation in the last placed he expected. He tripped, and subsequently landed, right on it in the form of a renegade screwdriver. Once he could get past the irony that his back was going to be a mass of half dollar sized bruises, he could appreciate the fact that someone, probably the owner of the cabin, believed in being prepared. Must have been a boy scout…

Even after Shawn had picked himself, and the screwdriver, up off the floor, it wasn't as simple as opening the heavy wooden door. Every time he would manage to wedge the metal instrument into the crease and attempt to leverage the door, the sheer weight of the material thwarted his progress. Adding the fact that Shawn's battered, exhausted body simply didn't want to cooperate meant the process was painstakingly slow.

Determined to continue through sheer will power if necessary, it took the faux psychic a moment to realize he had managed to drive the screwdriver between the door and the frame enough to move the heavy wood. Inch by inch he moved the barrier using his right hand to maneuver the screwdriver, cradling his left close to his chest, and his right foot to keep the door open. By the time the opening was big enough to slip through, all Shawn really wanted to do was lie down and rest.

No matter how much he wished to replenish the energy used to finally wedge open the door, he knew he didn't have much time before either one or both of the thugs returned and he needed to be as far away from the cabin as possible before that happened. Shawn knew without a doubt that his life depended on it...and that meant trekking back down the mountain in the dark was the clear cut winner, though it was only safer by a hair.

His father's stint as a scout leader might not have lasted more than six months and ended with a few restraining orders, but if there was one thing his dad instilled in him growing up it was how to survive almost any kind of situation. Great, now I am repeating it almost as much as the old man used to. The logical part of Shawn's brain knew that venturing through unfamiliar terrain under the best circumstances was foolhardy, and attempting to flee in the dead of night was nothing short of calamitous. Though Shawn was grateful for all the information, one of the most important lessons his father had drilled into him was to use the resources around him. Which meant he needed to go through as much of the cabin as he could to gather supplies before heading off into the unknown.

Like the candle he had found on a chair outside his cell, and had been using to light the way until the wick burned out. Setting the now useless object down on the small table in front of him, Shawn squinted to make out the other items sitting there, recognizing a match book and what appeared to be a map. He quickly pocketed both, wishing he had his black hoodie with the zippered pockets to store his supplies. Not seeing anything else he could use, Shawn continued down the hall, pausing when he came to two different openings branching off in opposite directions.

Glancing into to the space on the left, Shawn could make out shapes that looked like a couch and possibly a coffee table. Living room, he reasoned, Will go through that room next, but that means the door on the right should lead to the kitchen.

"Yahtzee," he exclaimed as he entered the silent room, spying a small object on the otherwise empty counter. Knowing it was probably useless but needing to try anyway, he made a beeline for the phone, tossing it back in its place when he had confirmed the battery was completely dead. Rummaging through the kitchen one handed in the dim light, he found two trail mix bars that he added to his stash. I certainly hope it doesn't take long to find my way back to civilization, Shawn thought, wondering once again exactly what mountain range he might be on, This definitely isn't going to sustain me for long.

A camping stove and old refrigerator sat in one corner of the room, silently collecting dust, looking like they hadn't been used in over a decade. Nothing useful there, Shawn reasoned, glancing through the rest of the cupboards on the off chance there was more non-perishable food tucked away. Coming up empty handed, he quickly finished his perusal of the small room, making note of the back door in the far corner, in case he needed to make a hasty exit, before backtracking to search the living room.

Upon entering the room, however, Shawn froze in mid step, hoping he was imagining the sound of an approaching engine. After he listened for a moment, though Shawn's suspicion was confirmed as the sound steadily grew louder. Time to go, he declared as he silently made his way through the kitchen and out the back door, making sure to close it behind him. Pausing for a moment behind the cabin, he peered around the corner of the building, making sure the coast was clear before moving as quickly as he could into the tree line and out of sight.

Instead of immediately heading for deeper cover, Shawn took the opportunity to study his surroundings and to get a better look at his attackers. He didn't have to wait long as a grey van pulled up in front of the cabin, killed its engine and two men got out. The driver was definitely the man Shawn had all but landed on the day of the hit and run, though the mass of cuts and bruises crisscrossing his face were new. Guess a ceramic pineapple actually makes a pretty good weapon in a pinch, Shawn thought wryly. It was the passenger, however, that made him swear silently from his hiding place.

Shutting the door before heading toward the cabin, brown paper bag in hand, was the same man who had been staring at him while he was sitting in his father's truck. Starting to connect the pieces, and not at all liking the picture that was beginning to form, Shawn was left to wonder just how long these two had been following him...and how he was going to figure out what they were looking for, all while traversing a strange mountain.

Like I really needed another challenge or something, he thought with a sigh as he watched the dark hulk enter the cabin. Great, even now I am quoting movies...he mused, before a thought struck him, Does that make me Jack or Annie though?

Knowing he had spent far too much time already crouching just out of sight of the cabin without moving, he turned and quietly moved deeper into the tree line. Listening for any sounds that the two goons in the small building had discovered his disappearance and were in pursuit, Shawn desperately tried to decide the best direction to head in while giving himself adequate cover. The road would be the most direct way to get back to civilization, but it would also be the first place any person with two functioning brain cells would check once they did find out their captive was gone.

Well, obviously taking the road is out, Shawn reasoned, taking small steps and watching where he was walking in an attempt to prevent further injury to himself. Maybe I can attempt to follow the direction the road goes, but stay far enough in the tree line to be out of sight for anyone taking the road. He immediately discounted that plan, however, when he realized he would have to cross the clearing to even reach the road.

So...Plan C it is...Now if I only had a freaking clue what the Hell plan C might be.

With each step Shawn took away from the cabin without sounds of pursuit, his hope that he could manage to avoid the bad guys, while trying to find his way to Santa Barbara and solve the mystery to get his life back started to emerge.Chuckling dryly he let his mind wander as he methodically made his way down the mountain.

I really miss the days when I knew exactly where to place the blame for my penchant to get into sticky situations.


Once they were settled inside the dark cabin, the two men took their time enjoying the hot meal that Rind had bought while Rye finished his task of procuring them another vehicle on the edge of town. Both of them were heartily sick of eating take out and staying in seedy motels, and were more than ready to get the information they needed so they could finally spend more than a few weeks at home for the first time in almost 6 months.

While the location of Shawn Henry Spencer, a man who, for the vast majority of his life anyway, seemingly had never held a job for more than a few months, had been ferreted out more than two months ago in that warehouse in Santa Clara, both Redar and Royko Drinfeld, known almost exclusively by their street names of Rye and Rind, had been told to return to Chicago immediately to work on other projects. After a month, most of which they had spent on the East coast, to let any possible heat from the Santa Clara job die down, it had taken almost another month, this time primarily in the South, for the two men to complete everything for their bosses Pamela Alinksy, known as Potter, and her brother-in-law Ellery Griffin, or Phoenix.

Now that they were back out west, trying to finish what should have been a routine job of getting an item, or the location of it, from what appeared to be an obvious loser, things had been anything but easy. Not for the first time, Rind wondered to himself if they might have made a mistake taking this Spencer kid at face value. After all, this whole thing should be been wrapped up by now and the two men had planned on already being on the way home, not finishing a meal and gearing up to get information.

"Well," Rind said after he was done eating his meal, "Da sooner we finish this, da sooner we get ta go home."

Rye rose from the table, cracking his knuckles menacingly and nodded. "Let's get this over with," he called as he disappeared down the only hallway in the tiny cabin. The next sound that greeted the seated man was not any of the ones that he might have expected, though the sound of furniture crashing that followed the bellow wasn't a surprise.

"WHAT DA HELL?!"

Hearing his best friend's outburst, Rind was out of his seat and down the hallway in a flash only to find Rye in the empty room, toppling anything that wasn't bolted down. His first thought mirrored the last one that had popped into his head before he left the living room. Definitely underestimated the man...won't make that mistake again. That simple admission, even if only to himself, caused Rind's blood to boil in a way few things could.

You have GOT to be kiddin' me. What's the deal with this guy? First he somehow managed to peg me when I try to do simple surveillance, next he almost screwed up Rye's casing out the man's office. Then, he not only showed up when we were searching that old surf shop he was living in, out maneuvering Rye and coming too damn close to getting away before I knocked him out...and NOW he'd managed to disappear into freakin' thin air?

This man is turnin' into more trouble than a bull in a china shop, he lamented as he watched the shorter man pace the room, coming closer and closer to blowing his top, Rind let him blow off some steam before dealing with the issue at hand. "Alright, let's find him. He can't have gone far."

"Like hell," Rye vented loudly, as the two men searched the small cabin and came up empty. "Naw, we don't know shit. For the kind of luck this man seems to have, he coulda sprouted wings and flew home."

As certain as he was that the dark skinned man was simply blowing off steam, his friend knew he had to get them both back on track. "You wanna be the one to call Potter and Phoenix to tell them we failed? Be my guest," Rind grumbled, knowing his partner wouldn't dare risk unleashing their employers' wrath. After a heartbeat of silence he continued, "That's what I thought. So, we need to find him, and fast. And this time, we don't give him an inch."

"Where do we start?" Rye asked, a malicious grin spread from ear to ear on his face.

"You take the van and go down the road, see if he went that way...I'll start off on foot and see if I can pick up any signs of where he went. We meet back here in an hour. One of us shoulda found him by then." Watching as his friend headed toward the van they had lifted less than two hours prior, Rind called out again, "Oh, and Rye!"

"What?!"

"If you find him first-make sure you don't kill him until we get the information we need."


Fear-the-Spork, who has countless stories posted here, if you haven't read anything by her, you're really missing out (cross roads is my favorite one of hers)…and in true Mori inspiration, reviews are like 'the molly' sandwich...a little different, but what would life be if we were all the same… and yes, if you ask me what I am talking about with the sandwich reference I will actually explain it… Also, just so everyone is aware, I do have this entire thing written, so I've just been updating whenever the fancy strikes me…