Chapter 26

James

Have the courage to live. Anyone can die: - Robert Cody

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He tried to flex what was left of his hands. The pain had died back to a dull throbbing and he was going to take the opportunity to try to pull the spike out of his stomach. Well at least out of the board it was pinned to. He also felt the bolt in his neck and considered pulling it out, but for now the spike – he needed to figure out how to do this.

Floyd began by slowly rocking the board to see how much of a gap there was between the back of the board and the ceiling. This would give him an approximate length for the spike and how much he had to remove to free himself. He didn't know how much time he had to do this. When James would be back? Was he still in the building? Was he watching this escape attempt? Floyd knew that had it been him he would be watching every wriggle and twist.

He rocked gently on his board and put his broken hands to his face. He needed to get the glue off his eyes. Not being able to close them and try to heal was holding things up. He picked cautiously at his eyelids and then over to the chains.

"Holding me up? If I can get to the chains – now my hands are free. Three inches of space between board and ceiling. I can get off this damned thing. I need to pull it six inches – a good average. The spike isn't against the ceiling thought, I can't feel it dragging or rubbing and so take that to five inches. But then the chains – if I cant get the spike out I will attempt the chain."

He blinked.

"Thank the gods of Pluto for that….I can close my damned eyes at last. Hands do your thing."

He was slightly aware that he was babbling to himself but right now it was helping him to keep the pain away. Keeping the board gently swinging seemed somehow soothing and made him feel less restricted. He placed one hand on the top of the stomach spike and the other he placed on his stomach and put the spike between his thumb and finger and he slowly and carefully began rocking the spike.

The motion began - in a very sickly and painful way – to become relaxing. He could the spike pulling and moving through his stomach and the out of his back. It had missed his spine – which was good. He thought about wiggling toes for a while but the pain in his ankles was holding that off for a bit…now…back and forth pushing and gently pulling.

"OK this isn't going to work. All I am managing to do is rip my stomach and lose blood." He watched it dripping down onto the spikes below him. He could hear the soft splotting sound as it dripped into the little puddle he was making. "The chains. I need to get to the chains." He put his hands to his mouth and then to the loop holding his neck in place. "You can come out." and he made the board rock harder and wrapped what was left of his hands around the 'U' spike and closed his eyes and pulled. He let out a long howl as he felt the skin on his hands rip and the bones grind together.

He didn't hear the small clink of something metal snapping.

-o-o-o-

So they had a face at last and they knew he liked a certain type of soap. The problem they had now was that he had bought a new supply of soap since the last victim was found. So either he was planning, or already had someone else. What they really needed was more info on the van. So the only hope was that he would turn up at the shop again…but that would mean another victim. For now they were stumped. The man had paid in cash. There was no paper trail.

-o-o-o-

When he woke up he was laying on his front on the floor next to the toilet. He had been laying on his right arm and it was completely numb. His left arm was bent at a funny angle at his side.

His head was pounding and it seemed he had been sick or drooling a lot – he knew he was laying on a floor somewhere and he knew he had been trying to get water but everything else was foggy. His back hurt and his feet were numb. He tried to move his left arm but there was something wrong with it. He could move his fingers slightly but only small twitches but the rest of his arm he couldn't move at all. He tried to roll slightly and get his right arm out from under him and it was know he realised that it was a dislocated shoulder causing the problem with his left arm.

Spencer cried in pain. So much pain in so little time. He wanted the pills. The pills on the other side of the door. He had to get to the door, but first water. His body was screaming for a drink. He managed to turn his head enough to look up at the impossible height of the washbasin and now his eyes drifted to the toilet.

"Oh god." He muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop the images in his head, but he knew what he needed to do. He was out of options and the desire for a drink was now far out weighing anything else. He could if he gritted his teeth reach the toilet water from where he was. If he could just stay with the pain long enough to do it. Just dip his fingers in the water….and then suck the water off. That would help – it would give him some hope.

The pain of the movement pushed a grey cloud over his vision which he pushed back again with deep breaths. His arm was tingling and he had stabbing pains going up and down his arm where the nerves were coming back to life again. He moved a hand up and grabbed the edge of the toilet seat. He hand objected to the sudden pressure and started to shake and cramp, but that was fine. He just needed to find the water. Just dip his hand in the water and it would be good. The pain will go away and he will be able to get up and walk away. All he needed was that water.

The coldness wrapped around his fingers as they finally found the blue toilet water. Slowly – trying not to shake too much and lose the precious liquid he pulled his hand back. He watched mesmerised as the small drips fell from his hand. With a sigh he put his fingers into his mouth and sucked at them. His mouth was so dry and sticky and his tongue still damaged from the biting he had given it, that the slightly odd taste wasn't noticed. Just that he had moisture in his mouth at last.

He went again. Slowly and carefully putting his hand down into the water and the quicker on the return journey so as not to lose too much and his fingers to his mouth.

Spencer thought he was going to die of pleasure. He carried on doing this until his arm wouldn't move anymore. The vile stickiness on his tongue had gone now but there was dreadful stinging in the back of his throat and his stomach was beginning to cramp and twist. Spencer didn't know if it was the water or just the normal cramps he had been getting but for now he felt a bit better. His mission to get water was complete.

Now he needed to get to the door.

-o-o-o-

Floyd was getting frustrated. He had loosened the 'U' shaped thing around his neck but now his hand were bleeding even more and just sliding over the metal. He sucked on them trying to keep as much fluid in his body as possible. There was stuff dripping from around the stake in his stomach too and he wasn't too happy about the smell. He rested and hung from the board and chewed on the bones sticking out of his hands.

He didn't know how long he had been here. It was hours since he had been up on the ceiling. He knew that much, but he had no idea how long it was before he woke up. How long had Spencer been in that room? The one positive thing was that there was water. He wouldn't die of that, but he had been slowly giving him more and more of the drugs to kill his pain and relax his muscles…if he didn't have those he as probably in a bit of pain by now.

The room had things in it he could use to break the door in. The lock wasn't that sturdy. Or was it? Probably would be easier to kick it open than to pull it, which is what Spencer would have to do. But Floyd was happy that Reid was intelligent enough, even in the condition he was in to use the weights from the bench as a way to break the door in.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some sort of quick shot vision of what Spencer was doing and feeling.

The only thing he could feel was intense pain and the only thing he could see was the floor.

"Shit – this isn't going to plan." He put his hands to the thing across his neck and biting on his bottom lip and with his eyes closed he took a deep breath and pulled. The board swung to the side and as he screamed and the metal ripped from the board and his hands ripped and cracked…

something slipped. Slightly.

-o-o-o-

Hotch got the call that afternoon. It was from the store the UnSub had visited before. He had been back. This time he had purchased a small cheap digital camera. His van had been parked outside again and using the ruse to go and smoke the store-keepers wife had gone out front and got plate numbers. They passed the information on and Hotch in turn handed it over to Garcia.

"All you can get. As quickly as you can get it. I am hoping that because he uses the van for abductions that it will be legal. He wont want to risk being pulled over and not having the correct documents or it being reported stolen."

Garcia rattled over her computer keys inputting information and pulling up all she could on the owner of the van. She made a little squeak of happiness when she got what she needed.

"James Atherton. I have his address and I have a picture of his driving licence. It's definitely the same guy." Garcia grinned and handed over the printout to Hotch.

Aaron nodded and stood. "Let's go."

Nothing more needed to be said as the team rushed from the office. They had no idea if he had already picked up another girl. The ones he had chosen before had never actually been reported missing. It was likely that the one they suspected he had now wouldn't be either. For someone so who had planned things so carefully it was a puzzle as to why he kept returning to the same store.

They drove the half hour it took in a worried silence. They really needed to get there and try to stop this UnSub from repeating his games on someone new. Though the fact that there was now new victim that they knew of…and no more purchases that they knew of it was possible that he had someone and this is what he needed the camera for.

The SUV's pulled up outside row of small detached houses. Fenced off front yards and small porches. The whole area looked a bit tatty and run down but it was still quite a nice area. Grass verges with ruts where cars parked and on one of those verges was a large dark grey van. A quick check with the plates confirmed this was the right place.

Flak jackets were put on and the slid silently from the vehicles and through the gate towards the house. Morgan indicated that he would go around back and took a few armed officers off with him.

Hotch waited to give Morgan time to get around the back and Hotch indicated for someone to get the door open. No knocking - no warnings.

"FBI!"

The words echoed through the house but the banging sound from upstairs was definitely the sound of a door slamming.

Guns out signals made Hotch and Morgan walked slowly up the stairs whilst other followed and more spread out downstairs checking the rooms.

Room by room they checked. Under beds in closets and around corners.

It wouldn't have been the last room they checked but they did find him. Standing in a corner holding a plank of wood and shouting at them to keep back.

"Just put it down and face the wall." Morgan walked forward with his gun out whilst Hotch covered. "Put it down." Talking firmly. No argument. No discussion.

-o-o-o-

Reid wasn't sure exactly what was going on but it felt as though his throat was closing up on him. The horrendous burning in this mouth spread down his throat to his stomach. He tried again to get to the door. Dragging himself forwards on the one good arm he still hand yelping in pain each time he put pressure on his limbs or used a muscle that wanted to just tighten up and do nothing.

He was almost within in touching distance from the door when he realised that over his breathing and pounding of his heart and the rushing sounds in his ears there was a new sounds. A faint buzzing that wasn't there before. He was sure of it. He tried to focus on the door and get closer so he could work out what it was. Blocking the other sounds from his head he lay and listened.

"Insects." He whispered to himself and glanced at the tacky puddle of red which was on the floor. It had flies buzzing around it but not enough to make the noise he could hear. Somewhere there was something with a lot of flies over it.

He lay on the floor and tried to look under the gap. There was something there. It was hard to see what it was but it was definitely what was making the insects come over to play and it had been bleeding.

It was now that his stomach ejected the water Spencer had spent so much time and effort getting. It left his body in a bubbling greenish ooze. It burnt his mouth and tongue as his body rejected the bleach treated toilet water and he cried in pain as his stomach muscles clenched and released and his body started to shake again.

Spencer lay on the floor and hammered on the door. He wanted to shout and scream and call for help but he couldn't talk now. He could barely breathe and he knew if he fell asleep he would give up and fade into nothing. He banged his hand which had made its self into a fist against the door until the skin split on his knuckles.

-o-o-o-

They sat James at the interview table. They had found nothing in his house, but they did find bits of sawdust and woodchips in the van which had been sent to forensics.

Hotch sat at the table on the other side of him. Derek, Emily and David waited outside for now.

"Where is the other girl?"

"What other girl?"

"We know you have someone else."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"What was the camera for?"

"To take pictures with."

"I know you have another girl James, and I know that you have been practicing on the girls you dumped. I know that you are very particular about the soap you use and that you want them to look nice. But what I need to know James is where she is."

"I don't know what you are talking about. I don't have a girl."

"Where were you keeping them? Not in your house. So where James? You need to tell us – before it's too late."

James shook his head.

"Fine – fine – I took the girls…I washed their trashy little bodies and I pinned them to a board, but I don't have another. You are wrong there."

"Can you tell us where you took the girls so we can go and check you are telling us the truth?"

James shrugged. "If you want. I don't really care. You won't find a girl there though."

He gave them an address and then he was taken down to the cells for the night. As they slammed the door he walked slowly over to the bench and lay down. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head and smiled.

-o-o-o-

Something was wrong.

A sudden clanking noise and the board slew to the side.

Floyd's eyes darted around trying to work out what had happened.

"Shit – I can do without this." He put a hand on the spike in his stomach and grimaced. It was pulling horribly on it. He could feel something inside ripping. "Crap!"

He could feel the spikes rubbing against the bones in his hips and the one through his ankles pulling and making the bones grind together.

"Damn you James…Get your arse back here! I need – I need – SHIT! This hurts – you son of a whore – you win. Let me down. I need to get back to Spence. Get me off this fucking……………….."

He didn't finish the sentence - the chain suddenly snapped and the board fell onto the spikes below.

It made a crunching splat sound -

And a small sigh.

Edward D. Wood, Jr.: What happened?