CONTROL

CHAPTER 10- FLESH AND BLOOD

Frank came to his senses, head splitting and stomach churning. He was flat on his back. He remembered what had happened instantly- he'd been captured! He threw himself sideways. Whatever he was lying on was raised off the ground and he fell down onto his knees, hard. His guts rebelled and he vomited, then crouched on all fours, gasping for breath. His eyes were open but he could only make out blurred shapes around him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and yelled in panic, throwing himself away from the touch. He tried to scrambled to his feet, but fell onto his knees again. He looked up, trying to see where his attacker was. His vision suddenly came into focus and he gasped in astonishment.

He was back in the Doctor's Surgery! Doc Mills and Agent White were watching him with concern, White's mouth moving, talking to him. Frank made himself stop and listen.

'Take it easy, son, we got you away, take it easy!'

Frank looked between the two men, his eyes blinking in confusion. Then, the information sinking in, he looked around the room frantically. 'Joe! Where's Joe?'

White came over and crouched beside him. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. 'I'm so sorry, Frank. We didn't find him. Thank goodness I flew over when I did- I was just passing, transporting the last bodies to Seattle. I came your way just in case anything looked amiss! I saw them closing in on you and landed right beside you. But Joe is gone. They got him.'

Frank stared at him in disbelief. Not Joe! They couldn't have captured Joe. His face crumpled for a second, guts twisting with grief and terror. Then fury overtook him. 'How can you not have found him?!He couldn't have been far away, I only left him a minute before I was darted!'

'Frank, I'm sorry. I was on my own! I saw you because you were in the open. I took a big risk coming down for you- the woods were crawling with Tyler's men! I managed to take a few of them out, though. That's something. I brought you here, came back for reinforcements so we could search for Joe safely.'

Frank forced himself to his feet, staggering unsteadily. 'Well, we have to go, we have to look for him!'

White stood up and shook his head. 'Son, you've been out for hours. I've got thirty men out there searching already. I'm only just back myself- I had to see how you were doing. They've found nothing yet. No one. Not even the ones I shot. It's like they've all just disappeared.'

'What?' Frank stood, open mouthed, trying to get his aching head around the situation. He took an unsteady step towards White and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. 'White, if you're still lying. Or if you're withholding anything from me. I'm going to kill you!'

White nodded once. 'I understand Frank. I know how hard this must be for you. I've been there, with Buick.'

Frank's lip curled into an angry snarl. 'Not the same, White. Tell me. Tell me what's happening to him. You worked on Project Zion. What happened to the subjects? What did they do to them? I want details! How did it work?'

White looked him in the eye. 'I'll tell you, but let go of me, Frank. I'm on your side here.' Frank looked down at his hand, then released White and stepped back. White looked over at Doc Mills. 'This is confidential. Can you give us a minute?' Mills stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked out.

White sank down on a chair. 'Frank, you need to understand a lot of years have gone by since I saw how it worked. Things could have changed.'

Frank nodded. 'Go on.' His voice was tight.

'It was fairly simple. It was all about Tyler's drug. It was ingenious. The subject was given it, usually by injection. The initial dosage was critical. It had to be sufficient to knock them out, but only just. Just enough to bring the subconscious to the fore, no more. After some conditioning, while still unconscious, the subject was given their task. They would be brought round and would remember nothing about the process. Simple as that. When the time came for the task to be carried out, the drug kicked in and took over, supressing the conscious mind and pushing the subconscious, where the task was planted, to the fore.'

Frank stared at him, unblinking. 'What do you mean, 'after some conditioning'?'

White looked at the ground. 'The subjects had to be conditioned not to resist the drug. It almost took care of that itself- it was good in that respect! But there was often some initial resistance when the subject felt it working, when they felt themselves losing control. But they soon learned to sit back and let their subconscious do its job without fighting.

The methods used to achieve that varied. I'm afraid it looked like the conditioning used on Miley Glass was rather crude. I get the impression they ended up having a bit of fun with her- she was a pretty thing, after all. But the other victims weren't even marked. If they're using anything…' he tailed off, looking at Frank doubtfully.

'What? What are they doing to him, White!? Just tell me!' Frank shouted.

'I would guess they'll use electric shock training. If he resists he'll get shocked. If it's of any comfort, during Zion, they never fought for long. The drug really softened them. But there was always some conditioning carried out, even if there was no resistance from the subject. A quirk of the drug was that it made the subconscious recreate the pain felt during conditioning if the subject tried to resist once they were released. The bastards in charge thought of it as a real bonus. A safeguard.'

Frank felt numb. He was shaking. 'They never fought for long. Yeah, right, White! You don't know Joe like I do.'

White looked at him sadly. 'Then I'm not going to lie to you, Frank, it may be hard for him. But don't forget, the drug suppresses memory too. No one ever recalled any of the process. He won't remember it. It will be like it never happened to him, no matter what they do.'

Frank face twisted in pain. He couldn't speak! His brother was….somewhere, in the hands of some mad scientist and his cohorts, being pumped full of an experimental drug and 'trained' with electric shocks.

'Frank, I'm sorry. At least we got you out. And everyone's searching the area for him.'

Frank's temper snapped. 'Another of your pointlesssearches, White?!' he shouted. 'Why do I not find that very reassuring. You've never found anyone before it's too late. Anyone! How long have I been here, anyway? How long have they had him?!'

White looked at the ground. 'Fourteen hours.'

Frank paled. 'F-fourteen hours?! That's longer than they had Isobel Walker for! They've already had time to do….. what they do, haven't they? Are you really looking for him, or are you just waiting for him to get dumped somewhere? Waiting to mop up the mess?'

'That's not fair Frank. We're up against it here, we're trying.'

Frank stood over White, dropping his hands down onto the arms of the Network man's chair and leaning in close to his face. 'I think you're too busy trying to hide what's happening from the outside world,' he spat. 'I think all you're worried about is covering things up. There were at least nine of those bastards in black! You should have the bloody army in! And proper search teams, proper search dogs, a fleet of helicopters. You're just running round in circles going through the motions….'

White glared up at him. He didn't reply for a moment. 'These decisions are taken above my head. I'm just doing my best with what I have.'

'Have you even told our family what's happening? If my father knew about this…It wouldn't matter how high up the decisions were being made. This place would be getting torn apart. '

'Yes. I got a message to your father via the radio in the chopper.'

Frank's jaw dropped. He straightened up, backing a step away from White. 'Did you actually speak to him?'

'No. But I've requested he come here. You'll know better than me if he will or not.'

'If you're telling the truth, and if you told him the truth, he will.' Frank felt a tiny spark of hope in spite of himself. He quashed it. He couldn't afford to rely on it. 'Can I take the chopper? Try to speak to him too?'

'Yes, of course! But not today- it's tied up with the search for Joe. I can see what you think of me, Frank. But everything I'm doing is for the greater good. I have every confidence your brother will be returned soon. And now we know exactly what we're dealing with, I think we can contain him until the drug is out of his system. Until the threat has passed.'

Frank laughed mirthlessly. 'Like you contained Buick? And Isobel Walker?'

'We weren't ready for Buick, I'll give you that. His physical strength took us by surprise- we really thought we could hold him. And the Walker woman- that wouldn't have happened if Tyler hadn't had someone there 'helping out', making sure the subject was free to fulfil their programming. We didn't know that would happen! But we know that now, we know the level of support Tyler has thanks to you and Joe. We'll be ready. And we know we'll have to contain Joe. Properly. Restrain him.'

Frank mentally recoiled in horror at the idea of having to have his brother, no doubt abused and disorientated, restrained. He shook his head. 'He should be taken to a hospital when he's found, White. Somewhere he can be looked after properly, sedated. And kept safe from these freaks in the woods.'

White pursed his lips. 'You're absolutely right. But I'm sorry Frank, my bosses wouldn't allow that. They would see the helicopter shot down before they would allow him to be taken somewhere that would blow this situation wide open to the public. I won't take that risk.'

'What!' Frank was appalled. 'Who the hell are these people?! Who do you answer to, White?' he roared.

White shook his head. 'My life wouldn't be worth a dime if I told you that. Let's just say it goes about as high up as it possibly could. But please believe me- I'll do whatever it takes to stop Joe being the next victim of this monumental fuck-up. Enough people have died. He's not going to be the next. Whatever you think of me, I'm his best chance at surviving.' White fixed Frank with a determined stare, so genuine that Frank was tempted to believe him.

Frank took a deep breathe, trying to control the fury that threatened to swamp him. 'So you think if we can keep him safe until the drug's out of his system, he'll be OK. He'll be….back to normal.'

'I really think so. It's the drug that controls the subject. It's not proper brainwashing. It's a cheat. A shortcut. Temporary.'

'Did any of the subjects you dealt with about live?'

White looked directly at him, sincerity in his eyes. 'Yes. While the programme was under the Network's control, everyone survived. Apart from the ones who had the side effects. I would hope Tyler's worked out the kinks in his formula that caused those by now.

The killing appears to be Tyler's own obsession. I'm guessing he's got clients interested in buying the drug and they're wanting it specifically to facilitate assassinations. He's demonstrating what it can do. That's certainly what happened 15 years ago.

But the subject does NOT have to die. They can get on with their lives. Remember nothing about it. If we can contain Joe that will happen for him.'

Frank stared at White, wanting to believe him more than anything.

White shook his head. 'Frank, come with me. Let's go and help with the search. I know it's shit, but you'll drive yourself crazy sitting here. And me. Let's do something. We might actually find him.' He patted Frank's shoulder, smiling gently, then turned and walked to the door.

Frank picked up his jacket and walked slowly after him. There was an inescapable feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He tried to stop himself imagining his brother's ordeal. 'He won't remember it, he won't remember it' he repeated to himself. Those were among the only words White had come up with that gave him any sort of comfort. He clung to them, praying they were true.

….

Joe tried to open his eyes. They were too heavy. He tried to move. He couldn't. Was he restrained or just too weak? He couldn't tell. He was in a seated position, slightly reclined. 'Kinda like the dentist', he thought vaguely.

He could hear something. Someone was speaking. He heard his brother's name. What were they saying about him? He tried to speak, but only heard a distant moan. He managed to open his eyes a crack and found himself blinking in the glare of a bright light. He turned his head to the side. Blurred shapes moved around him. He could see his own hand. A Velcro restraint held it to the chair arm. A hand touched his cheek, fingers prising his eyes open wider.

'He's conscious. Up the dose.' It was a man's voice. Familiar, but his mind wouldn't let him place it. Was he a doctor? Was he in hospital? Whatever drug he was being given was making his head hurt unbearably. He shook it slightly, trying to shake off the effect. A machine beeped beside his head.

'Resistance.' said the voice. 'Clear'. Then Joe screamed as a bolt of sheer agony tore through his body, his contracting muscles holding him up clear of the chair he was strapped to! The searing pain seemed endless. When it finally released him from its fiery grip, he sagged back down, shaking violently. 'Bastards!' he croaked, spitting out blood. The machine beeped again.

The calm, disconnected voice he would come to fear uttered that simple word again.

'Clear.'

…

Frank walked steadily through the woods, White 50 yards to his right and Sheriff Patrick 50 yards to his left. They were working a search pattern in the vicinity of Tyler's cabin. This was very different from the search Frank had taken part in on their first day. There were signs of disturbance and movement across the area. This section of the woods had been a hotbed of activity for the bad guys over the last 24 hours. The good guys weren't trying to follow the tracks, but they were mapping them as they went, marking where they went into and out of the search quadrants. It was proving to be the easiest way to make sense of the maze of trails.

Danny's dogs had supposedly covered the area, trying to trace the freshest tracks. The mechanic had followed his pets around in circles for hours, finding nothing of help.

Frank had his suspicions about the abilities of the dogs. He suddenly remembered something he and Joe's childhood friend, Biff Hooper, had once said about a new dog he'd bought, years ago. He'd hoped to teach it to retrieve rabbits when he was out shooting, but it wasn't the smartest hound ever. It had tried its best, cheerfully bringing him sticks, shoes and pine cones. Anything but rabbits. 'Bloody dog, he couldn't find his own ass if his life depended on it,' he'd said when he'd told them about it.

Frank smiled slightly, remembering how much Joe had laughed at that. Frank had been unimpressed with the swearing at the time. He didn't care now. Bloody dogs. Bloody Network. Bastards who had taken Joe. Available swear words were no longer strong enough to convey his feelings.

He plodded on, feeling helpless. 'He won't remember it, he won't remember it.' The mantra was keeping him sane.

By the time they completed the quadrant, it was getting dark. 'We better call it a night, boys. We'll start again at first light.' Sheriff Patrick called. Frank followed the team down the mountain towards the cars, feeling empty and sick.

Frank opened the door of the Lexus. As he did, a message crackled over the radio. Everyone froze.

Deputy Hannah's voice came over unusually clearly.

'Old Mrs Petersen just came in to the office. Was it Joe Hardy that helped her off a bus?'

Frank picked up his radio, pulse suddenly racing. 'Affirmative, that was Joe.'

'Roger, she says the nice lad that helped her is asleep in her garden, probably drunk. I'll head over.'

…

Frank was second in the convoy of vehicles that sped down the mountain road towards Haven Falls. He found himself tailgating White's car, banging on his steering wheel, frustrated at the speed. Glancing at his speedometer, he dropped back a touch. They weren't hanging around. It was maybe just as well he wasn't in front- he might have wiped himself out in his haste to get to Joe.

The cars screeched to a stop outside Mrs Petersen's house, a non-descript two storey building beside the old timber yard. The old lady was waiting for them at her garden gate. 'Come through, come through, he's this way, in the camellias.'

Frank went to run past her, but she grabbed his arm. White pushed past him and ran on. The woman peered at Frank. She suddenly seemed intense, younger. 'Don't trust anyone.' She hissed. She released him. The intensity disappeared and she looked like a frail old lady again. 'Do stop by for chocolate cake when your friend feels better, won't you.' she smiled. Frank blinked, wondering for a moment if he'd imagined her words.

Then he turned and ran after White, ran as fast as he could. He saw White and Deputy Hannah ahead of him, crouching beside a prone figure.

'Joe! Joe!' he yelled, throwing himself to his knees beside his brother. Joe was lying curled up on his side, clad only in jeans. His eyes were shut and he was shivering violently. Hannah had covered him with his jacket. Frank put a gentle hand on his cheek. 'Joe, can you hear me?'

Hannah put a hand on his arm. 'He's out of it, mate. Doc's on his way with his stretcher.'

Frank nodded, unable to take his eyes off Joe.

'Frank?'

'Yeah?'

'There's a note. It was in his hand.'

'Show me.'

Hannah passed him the slip of paper, sympathy in his eyes. 'I'm really sorry.'

Frank frowned in confusion, then read the message.

Frank Hardy. Midnight.