Chapter 6
"...got to make sure you don't escape," the hissing voice was getting more distinct as Joe was coming to his senses.
He had first heard it a minute or so ago when the weightlessness of nowhere was replaced by the heaviness of reality. His mind was too hazy to allow him to think about what was going on around him, who the speaker was or what his words meant.
"I could have done it with a knife...say, like this..." the cold chuckle was followed by a weak protesting "no".
Joe strained his hearing. Were there two people nearby? The first person sounded somewhat derisive and threatening while the other speaker seemed afraid. The pulsating throbbing in Joe's head wouldn't let him collect his strengths to open his eyes and see what was happening.
"Once I'm back no one is going to come and save you."
"I hope you're not back!" snapped the weaker voice.
"Playing bold spirit, aren't we?"
Impossible as it seemed to him, Joe forced his heavy eyelids to open. Either the pain was really blinding or he was in complete darkness. He looked around, but the surroundings were dissolving in a whirl of dark colors. Joe blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his foggy vision, but the surroundings still didn't come into focus.
"When the morning comes you won't be this brave."
"Go to hell!" the other person said it composedly, but there were fearful notes to his voice.
The voices were coming from very near, Joe just had to stand up and go there. But as he tried to move, he felt pressure on his wrists and ankles that wouldn't let him move his hands and legs. He looked down and narrowed his eyes, his vision steadied and he made out the outlines of a chair. He was in a sitting position, his ankles bound to the legs of the chair, his arms parallel on the elbow-rests and his wrists tied tightly to them. The darkness around him, the voice and the muffled sounds, his bound hands and ankles – unwillingly Joe tensed up in anxiety. Blinking his eyes, he frantically looked around and gasped.
Barely seen in the darkness, there were two dark figures on the floor – one sitting in the opposite corner and the other one leaning over him. "Chet...." Joe breathed, fear creeping in every cell of his body. Memories of the day flooded his mind – the mall, the attack, the dank basement, Newman, his fist aimed into his face...
That was Chet and Newman! Joe's mouth suddenly ran dry as he thought what might be happening there. "Go away from him!" he managed hoarsely over a lump in his throat. "Go away!!"
In the sudden silence, Joe heard his heart drumming inside. His heart skipped a beat when one of the shadows in the corner moved and he felt the cold piercing stare bore into him. This is the end, this is... Joe's mind was screaming as he expected the man to come and assail him, but to his utter surprise Newman turned away back to Chet.
"Remember, you'll be the first..." Joe heard him say. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the blade of a knife in his hands glitter in the darkness.
"Stop!!" Joe found his voice, screwing up his courage. "Stop it, you, scum! It's me you want! Leave him alone!!"
A chilly draught was blowing past him, but he felt hot all over – he could feel sweat on his forehead, hot blood rushing through his veins. Every breath of damp air hurt his throat like emery paper, but he couldn't stop the words that were leaving his mouth, "You, freak! Get away from him! You...." The words stuck in his throat.
There was a soft rustle in the room, barely audible behind the whistle of the draught and the knocks of the raindrops against the window. Joe's heart sank into his boots when he saw the dark figure rise.
"Don't!" Chet's pleading voice said. "Please!"
Involuntary, Joe jerked away in his chair, his back pressing against the wooden chair, when Newman moved towards him. Joe's heart must have beaten a billion times faster its normal speed as the tall shadow hovered over him.
"How did you call me?" Newman asked calmly.
"Leave him alone!" Chet pleaded again, but Newman ignored him. "I don't like people calling me names," he forcefully slapped Joe across the face and Joe tasted blood in his mouth. "'It's me you want, leave him alone!'" he mimicked Joe's voice. "Do you understand what you were asking for?" Newman hissed, leaning down to look the teen in the face. "Once I'm done with him, what do you think is waiting for you?"
Joe's breath was coming in gasps. "My Dad is going to f-find me...us," Joe said in a small voice.
"What?" a cold, sharp laughter rang in the teen's ears. "Dad going to find you? It was my- my inaccuracy and your daddy's sheer luck that I ended up in that stinking prison. Didn't you know he never managed to find me or save anyone from me. Are you still sure he'll find you? On time?"
"I am..." Joe replied, his quiet voice shaking. His vision had adjusted to the darkness and he saw a smug smirk on the man's face.
"Well... so it be," Newman straightened his back. "Have a good time," he said, walking across the room and disappearing through the open door.
"Joe? Joe, you okay? Did he do anything to you?" Chet asked, his voice full of concern.
The door snapped shut with a clunk, followed by a metal click in the lock.
"I'm fine," Joe replied, breathing deeply to calm his still racing heart. "You?"
"Same here. Man he had me scared when he walked up to you!"
"I thought that he...he...I mean when I saw the knife in his hands, I thought that you were..." he couldn't bring himself to say that out loud.
"No, he was just threatening me," Chet's voiced sounded even, but there were notes in it that were betraying his tension. "Rather successfully," he added gloomily seconds later.
"What did he say?" There was a thud sound of a closing door somewhere above them. "Is he going away?" Joe frowned.
"Shopping," Chet replied after a pause. "For...'tools' as he called them. He said he had nothing but a knife and the knife wasn't the best things for...well..."
There was a sound of a starting engine, followed by the rustle of the disappearing vehicle.
Joe didn't ask his friend what the knife wasn't the best things for. "Chet, we gotta clear out before he returns! And quick!" He pulled at the ropes binding his wrists, but he only felt the ropes sink into his skin.
"I know! I've been trying to loosen these ropes, but..." the was a pause as Chet strained his muscles. "But they don't give."
"We should try harder!" Joe said between clenched teeth as pain started to throb in his wrists. In the silence he was pulling at the twines again and again, but the more he tried the deeper and sorer the cuts on his wrists were becoming. "What happened to the light?" he asked, stopping for a moment to muster his strengths.
"Fused a couple of minutes later after he knocked you out. How are you, by the way?"
"I'd be..." the pain in his arms was becoming more intense, but Joe wasn't going to give up. "...be grateful if he stopped hitting my head..." he swore under his breath, having no luck with the ropes. Newman obviously had endeavored to make sure they wouldn't untie themselves. "I can't...loosen them," he muttered later after another unsuccessful attempt.
"They're too tight," Chet said ruefully and let out a heavy sigh.
"Are you tied by the hands and ankles?" Joe asked, having a sudden idea.
"I am. If you wanted me to crawl to you somehow and untie you, I don't think I can," Chet said in a small voice. "My hands are tied behind my back and tied to the ropes round my ankles."
"How is that?" Joe asked, confused, trying to see the strange pose Chet must have been in, but seeing only a shadow in the opposite corner.
"Uncomfortable," Chet grunted. "I can barely move and even if I do get near you somehow I won't be able to raise my hands high enough to untie you."
Joe felt despair creep into him. They had to get away before Newman returned! Because if they didn't...he shook his head, refusing to think about it.
"What did he mean by 'you'll be the first'?" Joe asked. He strained his muscles again, biting his lower lip as the rope cut deeper into his sore skin. His dim ray of hope started to fade as time went on, but the rope didn't give. "Heck," he hissed as he tried and pain coursed up his arms from the wrists.
"I..." there was a moment of silence. "I don't know. Actually I understood little of what that madman had said, he speaks very incoherently, you know. I don't think he can understand himself..."
'The devil take you, Morton!' Anger was stealing over Joe's soul. It wasn't Chet he was angry with, it was Newman. The meaning of his words was clear enough and resentment seized him. Chet had nothing to do with Fenton Hardy bringing the criminal to justice, he shouldn't be in this dank basement at all!..
"Joe?" Chet called, when Joe hadn't uttered a sound.
"What?" Joe exclaimed, sharper than indented. "I mean...What?" he asked calmer, forcing himself to cool down.
"You were just so suddenly silent."
"I was trying to get these ropes loosened," Joe lied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh. I just really want to get out of here ASAP."
"No probs. Frank and your Dad must have harnessed everyone from the Bayport police. They'll find us soon."
Undoubtedly they must have started to search for them, but it didn't make Joe feel easier. In such a stormy night they had little chances of being found before Newman returned, so it was up to them to free and save themselves. He tried at the ropes again. "Jinx," he hissed as he tried and pain coursed up his arms from the wrists.
"...got to make sure you don't escape," the hissing voice was getting more distinct as Joe was coming to his senses.
He had first heard it a minute or so ago when the weightlessness of nowhere was replaced by the heaviness of reality. His mind was too hazy to allow him to think about what was going on around him, who the speaker was or what his words meant.
"I could have done it with a knife...say, like this..." the cold chuckle was followed by a weak protesting "no".
Joe strained his hearing. Were there two people nearby? The first person sounded somewhat derisive and threatening while the other speaker seemed afraid. The pulsating throbbing in Joe's head wouldn't let him collect his strengths to open his eyes and see what was happening.
"Once I'm back no one is going to come and save you."
"I hope you're not back!" snapped the weaker voice.
"Playing bold spirit, aren't we?"
Impossible as it seemed to him, Joe forced his heavy eyelids to open. Either the pain was really blinding or he was in complete darkness. He looked around, but the surroundings were dissolving in a whirl of dark colors. Joe blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his foggy vision, but the surroundings still didn't come into focus.
"When the morning comes you won't be this brave."
"Go to hell!" the other person said it composedly, but there were fearful notes to his voice.
The voices were coming from very near, Joe just had to stand up and go there. But as he tried to move, he felt pressure on his wrists and ankles that wouldn't let him move his hands and legs. He looked down and narrowed his eyes, his vision steadied and he made out the outlines of a chair. He was in a sitting position, his ankles bound to the legs of the chair, his arms parallel on the elbow-rests and his wrists tied tightly to them. The darkness around him, the voice and the muffled sounds, his bound hands and ankles – unwillingly Joe tensed up in anxiety. Blinking his eyes, he frantically looked around and gasped.
Barely seen in the darkness, there were two dark figures on the floor – one sitting in the opposite corner and the other one leaning over him. "Chet...." Joe breathed, fear creeping in every cell of his body. Memories of the day flooded his mind – the mall, the attack, the dank basement, Newman, his fist aimed into his face...
That was Chet and Newman! Joe's mouth suddenly ran dry as he thought what might be happening there. "Go away from him!" he managed hoarsely over a lump in his throat. "Go away!!"
In the sudden silence, Joe heard his heart drumming inside. His heart skipped a beat when one of the shadows in the corner moved and he felt the cold piercing stare bore into him. This is the end, this is... Joe's mind was screaming as he expected the man to come and assail him, but to his utter surprise Newman turned away back to Chet.
"Remember, you'll be the first..." Joe heard him say. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the blade of a knife in his hands glitter in the darkness.
"Stop!!" Joe found his voice, screwing up his courage. "Stop it, you, scum! It's me you want! Leave him alone!!"
A chilly draught was blowing past him, but he felt hot all over – he could feel sweat on his forehead, hot blood rushing through his veins. Every breath of damp air hurt his throat like emery paper, but he couldn't stop the words that were leaving his mouth, "You, freak! Get away from him! You...." The words stuck in his throat.
There was a soft rustle in the room, barely audible behind the whistle of the draught and the knocks of the raindrops against the window. Joe's heart sank into his boots when he saw the dark figure rise.
"Don't!" Chet's pleading voice said. "Please!"
Involuntary, Joe jerked away in his chair, his back pressing against the wooden chair, when Newman moved towards him. Joe's heart must have beaten a billion times faster its normal speed as the tall shadow hovered over him.
"How did you call me?" Newman asked calmly.
"Leave him alone!" Chet pleaded again, but Newman ignored him. "I don't like people calling me names," he forcefully slapped Joe across the face and Joe tasted blood in his mouth. "'It's me you want, leave him alone!'" he mimicked Joe's voice. "Do you understand what you were asking for?" Newman hissed, leaning down to look the teen in the face. "Once I'm done with him, what do you think is waiting for you?"
Joe's breath was coming in gasps. "My Dad is going to f-find me...us," Joe said in a small voice.
"What?" a cold, sharp laughter rang in the teen's ears. "Dad going to find you? It was my- my inaccuracy and your daddy's sheer luck that I ended up in that stinking prison. Didn't you know he never managed to find me or save anyone from me. Are you still sure he'll find you? On time?"
"I am..." Joe replied, his quiet voice shaking. His vision had adjusted to the darkness and he saw a smug smirk on the man's face.
"Well... so it be," Newman straightened his back. "Have a good time," he said, walking across the room and disappearing through the open door.
"Joe? Joe, you okay? Did he do anything to you?" Chet asked, his voice full of concern.
The door snapped shut with a clunk, followed by a metal click in the lock.
"I'm fine," Joe replied, breathing deeply to calm his still racing heart. "You?"
"Same here. Man he had me scared when he walked up to you!"
"I thought that he...he...I mean when I saw the knife in his hands, I thought that you were..." he couldn't bring himself to say that out loud.
"No, he was just threatening me," Chet's voiced sounded even, but there were notes in it that were betraying his tension. "Rather successfully," he added gloomily seconds later.
"What did he say?" There was a thud sound of a closing door somewhere above them. "Is he going away?" Joe frowned.
"Shopping," Chet replied after a pause. "For...'tools' as he called them. He said he had nothing but a knife and the knife wasn't the best things for...well..."
There was a sound of a starting engine, followed by the rustle of the disappearing vehicle.
Joe didn't ask his friend what the knife wasn't the best things for. "Chet, we gotta clear out before he returns! And quick!" He pulled at the ropes binding his wrists, but he only felt the ropes sink into his skin.
"I know! I've been trying to loosen these ropes, but..." the was a pause as Chet strained his muscles. "But they don't give."
"We should try harder!" Joe said between clenched teeth as pain started to throb in his wrists. In the silence he was pulling at the twines again and again, but the more he tried the deeper and sorer the cuts on his wrists were becoming. "What happened to the light?" he asked, stopping for a moment to muster his strengths.
"Fused a couple of minutes later after he knocked you out. How are you, by the way?"
"I'd be..." the pain in his arms was becoming more intense, but Joe wasn't going to give up. "...be grateful if he stopped hitting my head..." he swore under his breath, having no luck with the ropes. Newman obviously had endeavored to make sure they wouldn't untie themselves. "I can't...loosen them," he muttered later after another unsuccessful attempt.
"They're too tight," Chet said ruefully and let out a heavy sigh.
"Are you tied by the hands and ankles?" Joe asked, having a sudden idea.
"I am. If you wanted me to crawl to you somehow and untie you, I don't think I can," Chet said in a small voice. "My hands are tied behind my back and tied to the ropes round my ankles."
"How is that?" Joe asked, confused, trying to see the strange pose Chet must have been in, but seeing only a shadow in the opposite corner.
"Uncomfortable," Chet grunted. "I can barely move and even if I do get near you somehow I won't be able to raise my hands high enough to untie you."
Joe felt despair creep into him. They had to get away before Newman returned! Because if they didn't...he shook his head, refusing to think about it.
"What did he mean by 'you'll be the first'?" Joe asked. He strained his muscles again, biting his lower lip as the rope cut deeper into his sore skin. His dim ray of hope started to fade as time went on, but the rope didn't give. "Heck," he hissed as he tried and pain coursed up his arms from the wrists.
"I..." there was a moment of silence. "I don't know. Actually I understood little of what that madman had said, he speaks very incoherently, you know. I don't think he can understand himself..."
'The devil take you, Morton!' Anger was stealing over Joe's soul. It wasn't Chet he was angry with, it was Newman. The meaning of his words was clear enough and resentment seized him. Chet had nothing to do with Fenton Hardy bringing the criminal to justice, he shouldn't be in this dank basement at all!..
"Joe?" Chet called, when Joe hadn't uttered a sound.
"What?" Joe exclaimed, sharper than indented. "I mean...What?" he asked calmer, forcing himself to cool down.
"You were just so suddenly silent."
"I was trying to get these ropes loosened," Joe lied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh. I just really want to get out of here ASAP."
"No probs. Frank and your Dad must have harnessed everyone from the Bayport police. They'll find us soon."
Undoubtedly they must have started to search for them, but it didn't make Joe feel easier. In such a stormy night they had little chances of being found before Newman returned, so it was up to them to free and save themselves. He tried at the ropes again. "Jinx," he hissed as he tried and pain coursed up his arms from the wrists.