"Where are we going?" asked Joe after they had been driving for almost two hours.
"Silence!" he was ordered.
"I just..." he fell silent as his arm was pricked. He reached for it as a syringe was pulled away. Before Joe could say anymore his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.
When Joe awoke he was on a small plane. But he never had time to get his bearings because he felt another prick and once again, he was sound asleep.
The next time Joe awoke he found himself in a sitting position with his wrists fastened to his chair with thick metal cuffs. His ankles were shackled to the bottom of the heavy chair and he found himself unable to move even his shoulders. He looked down in surprise. Wide leather straps held him securely in place.
Who do they think I am? Joe wondered. Superman? I doubt even he could break all this hardware.' He tried to move his wrist back, just a little, but the effort was met with a burning sensation followed by a sticky feeling. He winced in pain and knew the liquid that slid beneath his wrist was his own blood.
Joe looked around his prison. It wasn't at all what he would have expected. No basement or barren room was this! In front of him was a large mirror, two-way no doubt, and in the front of the mirror was a lab table and against each wall that he could see were more lab tables.
One table held test tubes and a Bunsen burner; items his and Frank's lab above their garage at home held. But the table to his left held books and photo albums; tape players and a projector. The table in front of the mirror held personal care items like brushes and shampoo.
The room behind him reflected in the mirror and he could make out a rolling cart with knives and a variety of surgical equipment adorning it.
Joe shivered. Why had they kidnapped him? And who were they? Did they have something to do with the reason his father had sent him to boarding school in the first place? He hadn't been gagged. Maybe he would be allowed to ask questions or....A worse thought occurred to him. Maybe he was expected to answer questions. I can't tell them what I don't know, he thought in grim satisfaction.
A door opened behind him and Joe sat silent as several sets of footsteps approached. "Begin." The order was followed by several men and a woman stepping into view and going to the lab tables.
Joe watched a young man with a build matching his own go to the table with the photograph albums and sit down. "You have forty-eight hours to complete the transformation," stated the same male voice that had started the activity.
Joe felt a hand ruffle his hair and he flinched away. "Joe?" the man said, resting a hand on Joe's shoulder.
The boy who had begun rifling through the albums looked up and Joe gasped. There were slight differences but he and this stranger could have been twins.
"Indeed," came the voice from behind Joe. "He does look a lot like you."
"And that's why you chose him for this job?" Joe demanded.
"Quiet," the man agreed and Joe could swear he detected a British accent. "The closer in appearance now, the harder it will be to distinguish later," he explained.
"You will have to explain that one," Joe told him, wishing he couldn't see the speaker who stared into the mirror with cold black eyes.
"I'm sure you shall figure it out eventually," Joe was told in a cheery voice. "Get to it boys and girls," the man ordered, turning away.
Joe heard the man's receding footsteps and then a door shut as two men and the woman came over to him. The cuff on his left wrist was released and his hand turned palm side up. The cuff was replaced, leaving Joe in this uncomfortable position. He swallowed as his fingers were grasped tightly, allowing no movement. His thumb was forced straight and a cotton swab was rubbed over the length of it.
"What are you doing?" Joe asked, fighting the fear growing in him as one of the men took a scalpel and placed it at the top crevice of his thumb.
Ignoring Joe's question, the man let the scalpel pierced Joe's skin. As Joe let out a horrendous cry the scalpel sliced off the top layer of skin on Joe's thumb!
"Silence!" he was ordered.
"I just..." he fell silent as his arm was pricked. He reached for it as a syringe was pulled away. Before Joe could say anymore his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.
When Joe awoke he was on a small plane. But he never had time to get his bearings because he felt another prick and once again, he was sound asleep.
The next time Joe awoke he found himself in a sitting position with his wrists fastened to his chair with thick metal cuffs. His ankles were shackled to the bottom of the heavy chair and he found himself unable to move even his shoulders. He looked down in surprise. Wide leather straps held him securely in place.
Who do they think I am? Joe wondered. Superman? I doubt even he could break all this hardware.' He tried to move his wrist back, just a little, but the effort was met with a burning sensation followed by a sticky feeling. He winced in pain and knew the liquid that slid beneath his wrist was his own blood.
Joe looked around his prison. It wasn't at all what he would have expected. No basement or barren room was this! In front of him was a large mirror, two-way no doubt, and in the front of the mirror was a lab table and against each wall that he could see were more lab tables.
One table held test tubes and a Bunsen burner; items his and Frank's lab above their garage at home held. But the table to his left held books and photo albums; tape players and a projector. The table in front of the mirror held personal care items like brushes and shampoo.
The room behind him reflected in the mirror and he could make out a rolling cart with knives and a variety of surgical equipment adorning it.
Joe shivered. Why had they kidnapped him? And who were they? Did they have something to do with the reason his father had sent him to boarding school in the first place? He hadn't been gagged. Maybe he would be allowed to ask questions or....A worse thought occurred to him. Maybe he was expected to answer questions. I can't tell them what I don't know, he thought in grim satisfaction.
A door opened behind him and Joe sat silent as several sets of footsteps approached. "Begin." The order was followed by several men and a woman stepping into view and going to the lab tables.
Joe watched a young man with a build matching his own go to the table with the photograph albums and sit down. "You have forty-eight hours to complete the transformation," stated the same male voice that had started the activity.
Joe felt a hand ruffle his hair and he flinched away. "Joe?" the man said, resting a hand on Joe's shoulder.
The boy who had begun rifling through the albums looked up and Joe gasped. There were slight differences but he and this stranger could have been twins.
"Indeed," came the voice from behind Joe. "He does look a lot like you."
"And that's why you chose him for this job?" Joe demanded.
"Quiet," the man agreed and Joe could swear he detected a British accent. "The closer in appearance now, the harder it will be to distinguish later," he explained.
"You will have to explain that one," Joe told him, wishing he couldn't see the speaker who stared into the mirror with cold black eyes.
"I'm sure you shall figure it out eventually," Joe was told in a cheery voice. "Get to it boys and girls," the man ordered, turning away.
Joe heard the man's receding footsteps and then a door shut as two men and the woman came over to him. The cuff on his left wrist was released and his hand turned palm side up. The cuff was replaced, leaving Joe in this uncomfortable position. He swallowed as his fingers were grasped tightly, allowing no movement. His thumb was forced straight and a cotton swab was rubbed over the length of it.
"What are you doing?" Joe asked, fighting the fear growing in him as one of the men took a scalpel and placed it at the top crevice of his thumb.
Ignoring Joe's question, the man let the scalpel pierced Joe's skin. As Joe let out a horrendous cry the scalpel sliced off the top layer of skin on Joe's thumb!