"Pull over near that house," Frank ordered Chet after he disconnected with his father. Frank pointed to a two-story house just ahead on the left.
"What's up?" Chet demanded, noting the urgency in his voice.
"Twister," Frank answered.
"This place is no good," Chet argued even as he pulled the van to a stop. "No one's lived here for years."
"I know," Franks aid. "But maybe we can get into the cellar or break inside and get into the basement."
Frank and Chet got out of the van and ran toward the house. "Over there!" Frank shouted at Chet above the wind.
They ran toward the cellar. When they reached it, they discovered it had been nailed shut. "We'll have to get inside," Frank said.
"We can break the window," Chet suggested, grabbing Frank's shoulder and turning him around so he could see the basement window. "We can come back and fix it tomorrow."
Chet bent down and tried to open the window. Having no luck, he stood up and kicked. The window smashed. A couple of more kicks and the boys were able to scramble through into the basement.
"Now, who is this guy who kidnaped Joe?" Chet asked after they had settled themselves in a corner.
"His name is Kevin Dobson," Frank told him, then repeated what his father had told him.
"Oh boy," Chet sighed heavily. "No wonder we had to find this boat tonight."
"Get some sleep," Frank ordered, seeing Chet subcumb to his second yawn since they had entered the basement. "Dad will call when the danger is over and we can get busy then."
"What about you?" Chet asled, looking at Frank with concern as he tried to fight off another yawn. "You're washed out."
"I'm too worried about Joe," Frank responded. "Go to sleep," he told Chet again. "I'll wake you up," he promised.
Chet nodded and, with another yawn, lay down on the basement's concrete floor and cradled his head on his arm. Soon, his breathing evened out and he slept.
Frank sat on the floor, his arms circling his knees which held his chin. He sat quietly, staring into space, wondering if Joe had woken up and scared he never would.
Not far away, Joe also lay on hard cement. His abductors had heard the tornado warning and had taken refuge in the house they had been occupying at zero rent, the owners being in Australia for vacation.
"We could have just left him outside," said the stocky man with a ponytail.
"No, Billy, we couldn't," Dobson disagreed sharply. "He has to be conscious when we kill him. He has to know he's dying because of his father."
"The kid's been out for hours," Darryl, the dirty blond complained. "What if he never wakes up?"
"Then Hardy will still never see his son alive again," Dobson asserted.
"Turn on the radio," Darryl ordered Billy. "I want out of here as soon as possible."
"Don't like dark, damp places?" Billy snorted.
"I don't like twisters," Darryl stated with a disparing look in Billy's direction.
"Anyone up for some cards?" Dobson asked, pulling a deck from his shirt pocket.
"Why not?" Billy replied, turning on the radio and going over to sit in front of Dobson, cross-legged, on the floor.
"I'm in," Darryl answered, also moving closer to Dobson.
They had been playing for a short time when they heard a moan. Dobson froze, his hand holding two cards he had been about to discard, and looked over at Joe.
Joe moaned again and moved his head slightly. Dobson dropped his cards and stood up. Going over to where Joe lay, he knelt by the youth and pushed his hair away from his eyes.
Joe's eyes flickered once, then opened. 'Too much effort,' he thought, closing them again. He drifted back into the void.
*****************************************************************************
Frank awoke with a start. His cell phone sounded again. He reached over and picked it up. "Are you boys all right?" he heard his father's anxious voice.
"We're fine," Frank replied a little more sharply than he had intended. He was annoyed with himself for having fallen asleep. "We're fine," Frank said again, a bit softer. "Is it over?" he asked.
"Yes," Fenton said. "No major damage has been reported," he added.
"That's good," Frank said. "About the Gallena..." he began, but his father cut him off.
"Chief Collig is sending Officer Kurtz and Officer Feldman to watch the boat," Fenton told Frank. "When they arrive, come home."
"But..." Frank started to argue only to be interuppted again.
"Chet's family is worried," Fenton cut him off. "Besides, there's nothing more you can do there," he added softly. "If they bring Joe aboard the Gallena we'll be alerted. If not, we'll board it tomorrow evening and search for clues," he promised.
"Okay," Frank replied, although he really didn't want to leave. He decided he would take Chet back to get Mr. Morton's car, get some rest, then return first thing in the morning to repair the window. It would give him an excuse to watch the Gallena.
He reached over and grabbed Chet's shoulder and shook. "Wha...whasit?" he mumbled sleepily.
"It's over," Frank replied. "Let's go."
"To the boat?" Chet asked, getting to his feet.
"Home," Frank stated with a shake of his head. They left the same way they had entered. Once outside, Frank found a few loose boards and leaned the largest one against the window.
Chet stood by, grinning at him. "With this wind, you actually think that will be there long?" he asked.
Frank scowled at him and led the way back to the van. Getting in the driver's side, he started it up and turned on the heat as Chet got in on the passenger's side. Less than a minute later, they were back on the road and headed to town, Frank having seen a patrol car parked down the road a bit.
**************************************************************************
After the latest weather update, Billy turned off the radio. "To the boat now?" he asked, turning to look at Dobson who had stayed beside Joe since he had stirred almost half an hour ago.
"Tomorrow," Darryl snapped. "It's still pouring the rain."
"Let's move him upstairs," Dobson ordered. "I want him watched at all times."
Darryl and Billy picked Joe up and carried him up the narrow basement stairs and through the kitchen into the living room. "On the couch?" Darryl asked, panting from the effort.
"In the bedroom," Dobson replied. Joe was carried up another flight of steps and dumped unceremoniously onto the bed of the first bedroom they came to.
"I'll take first watch," Dobson told the two men. "Bring me a beer and something to eat, would you?"
A few minutes later, Darryl came back into the bedroom with a beer and a plate of sandwiches. As he was leaving, Joe stirred again. He moaned, moving his head, as his eyes flickered open for the second time tonight.
"Are you awake this time?" Dobson inquired in a falsely concerned voice.
"I...I..," Joe said softly, swallowing from the effort.
"Welcome back," Darryl said, coming over to stand by Joe's bed. "We've been anxious for your return," he told Joe, smiling thinly, his eyes glinting.
"What's up?" Chet demanded, noting the urgency in his voice.
"Twister," Frank answered.
"This place is no good," Chet argued even as he pulled the van to a stop. "No one's lived here for years."
"I know," Franks aid. "But maybe we can get into the cellar or break inside and get into the basement."
Frank and Chet got out of the van and ran toward the house. "Over there!" Frank shouted at Chet above the wind.
They ran toward the cellar. When they reached it, they discovered it had been nailed shut. "We'll have to get inside," Frank said.
"We can break the window," Chet suggested, grabbing Frank's shoulder and turning him around so he could see the basement window. "We can come back and fix it tomorrow."
Chet bent down and tried to open the window. Having no luck, he stood up and kicked. The window smashed. A couple of more kicks and the boys were able to scramble through into the basement.
"Now, who is this guy who kidnaped Joe?" Chet asked after they had settled themselves in a corner.
"His name is Kevin Dobson," Frank told him, then repeated what his father had told him.
"Oh boy," Chet sighed heavily. "No wonder we had to find this boat tonight."
"Get some sleep," Frank ordered, seeing Chet subcumb to his second yawn since they had entered the basement. "Dad will call when the danger is over and we can get busy then."
"What about you?" Chet asled, looking at Frank with concern as he tried to fight off another yawn. "You're washed out."
"I'm too worried about Joe," Frank responded. "Go to sleep," he told Chet again. "I'll wake you up," he promised.
Chet nodded and, with another yawn, lay down on the basement's concrete floor and cradled his head on his arm. Soon, his breathing evened out and he slept.
Frank sat on the floor, his arms circling his knees which held his chin. He sat quietly, staring into space, wondering if Joe had woken up and scared he never would.
Not far away, Joe also lay on hard cement. His abductors had heard the tornado warning and had taken refuge in the house they had been occupying at zero rent, the owners being in Australia for vacation.
"We could have just left him outside," said the stocky man with a ponytail.
"No, Billy, we couldn't," Dobson disagreed sharply. "He has to be conscious when we kill him. He has to know he's dying because of his father."
"The kid's been out for hours," Darryl, the dirty blond complained. "What if he never wakes up?"
"Then Hardy will still never see his son alive again," Dobson asserted.
"Turn on the radio," Darryl ordered Billy. "I want out of here as soon as possible."
"Don't like dark, damp places?" Billy snorted.
"I don't like twisters," Darryl stated with a disparing look in Billy's direction.
"Anyone up for some cards?" Dobson asked, pulling a deck from his shirt pocket.
"Why not?" Billy replied, turning on the radio and going over to sit in front of Dobson, cross-legged, on the floor.
"I'm in," Darryl answered, also moving closer to Dobson.
They had been playing for a short time when they heard a moan. Dobson froze, his hand holding two cards he had been about to discard, and looked over at Joe.
Joe moaned again and moved his head slightly. Dobson dropped his cards and stood up. Going over to where Joe lay, he knelt by the youth and pushed his hair away from his eyes.
Joe's eyes flickered once, then opened. 'Too much effort,' he thought, closing them again. He drifted back into the void.
*****************************************************************************
Frank awoke with a start. His cell phone sounded again. He reached over and picked it up. "Are you boys all right?" he heard his father's anxious voice.
"We're fine," Frank replied a little more sharply than he had intended. He was annoyed with himself for having fallen asleep. "We're fine," Frank said again, a bit softer. "Is it over?" he asked.
"Yes," Fenton said. "No major damage has been reported," he added.
"That's good," Frank said. "About the Gallena..." he began, but his father cut him off.
"Chief Collig is sending Officer Kurtz and Officer Feldman to watch the boat," Fenton told Frank. "When they arrive, come home."
"But..." Frank started to argue only to be interuppted again.
"Chet's family is worried," Fenton cut him off. "Besides, there's nothing more you can do there," he added softly. "If they bring Joe aboard the Gallena we'll be alerted. If not, we'll board it tomorrow evening and search for clues," he promised.
"Okay," Frank replied, although he really didn't want to leave. He decided he would take Chet back to get Mr. Morton's car, get some rest, then return first thing in the morning to repair the window. It would give him an excuse to watch the Gallena.
He reached over and grabbed Chet's shoulder and shook. "Wha...whasit?" he mumbled sleepily.
"It's over," Frank replied. "Let's go."
"To the boat?" Chet asked, getting to his feet.
"Home," Frank stated with a shake of his head. They left the same way they had entered. Once outside, Frank found a few loose boards and leaned the largest one against the window.
Chet stood by, grinning at him. "With this wind, you actually think that will be there long?" he asked.
Frank scowled at him and led the way back to the van. Getting in the driver's side, he started it up and turned on the heat as Chet got in on the passenger's side. Less than a minute later, they were back on the road and headed to town, Frank having seen a patrol car parked down the road a bit.
**************************************************************************
After the latest weather update, Billy turned off the radio. "To the boat now?" he asked, turning to look at Dobson who had stayed beside Joe since he had stirred almost half an hour ago.
"Tomorrow," Darryl snapped. "It's still pouring the rain."
"Let's move him upstairs," Dobson ordered. "I want him watched at all times."
Darryl and Billy picked Joe up and carried him up the narrow basement stairs and through the kitchen into the living room. "On the couch?" Darryl asked, panting from the effort.
"In the bedroom," Dobson replied. Joe was carried up another flight of steps and dumped unceremoniously onto the bed of the first bedroom they came to.
"I'll take first watch," Dobson told the two men. "Bring me a beer and something to eat, would you?"
A few minutes later, Darryl came back into the bedroom with a beer and a plate of sandwiches. As he was leaving, Joe stirred again. He moaned, moving his head, as his eyes flickered open for the second time tonight.
"Are you awake this time?" Dobson inquired in a falsely concerned voice.
"I...I..," Joe said softly, swallowing from the effort.
"Welcome back," Darryl said, coming over to stand by Joe's bed. "We've been anxious for your return," he told Joe, smiling thinly, his eyes glinting.