"Where is she?" Frank wondered, worry etched in his face. They had been on I88 for some time now and hadn't seen any sign of Callie or of the brown sedan.
"Look," Vanessa said, slowing down as they neared a construction site. "Ask them if they have seen Callie's car or the sedan," she suggested, stopping on the side of the road.
Frank got out and went over to where three men were standing and watching him with some interest. "Have either of you seen a brown sedan or a blue Volvo?"
As all the answers came back negative, Frank grew more hopeful. "Thanks!" he said a bit cheerfully and hurried back to Vanessa.
"Well?" she asked when he got in the car.
"No," Frank told her. "Which means they must have turned off somewhere along the way."
"Not many places to turn," Vanessa noted what Frank already knew. "Let's go hunting," she said, turning the car around and driving more slowly than she had before. "There is a road coming up on our right," she observed.
"No good," Frank said. "It just dead ends at the cliffs." They drove a little further. "Hey! There," Frank said, pointing to a dirt road ahead.
Vanessa slowed down and made the turn. She hadn't gone too far when she had to stop. A huge rock was blocking the road.
"I guess not," Frank said in a discouraged tone. "Let's look for another road." Ten minutes later, they gave up. "I don't see how we could have missed them," Frank said.
"Unless they did drive by those construction workers and they were too busy to notice," Vanessa suggested.
"But why hasn't Callie tried to contact us?" Frank wondered. "She has the CB."
Callie was taken back through the woods, past the clearing and into the rocky area on the other side. There, she was bound and gagged and left in a corner. No one paid any attention to her as they brought forth buckets of water and set them down near a large barrel.
She listened to what was being said, her blood growing colder as the minutes passed. Someone was to be sacrificed at dusk the next night. Was this what Frank had said was more important? Did he know about the sacrifice? Did he know there was a Satanic cult in Bayport? She shuddered, wondering if Frank would arrive in time to save whoever was being sacrificed. To save her.
She heard a man say that she was going to be used in place of one of the animals as a preliminary sacrifice the next evening but for tonight, she could stay where she was and watch the ritual.
What was the ritual they were talking about, she wondered as a crowd gathered, each one wearing a black robe with the hood pulled over their heads. Into the area came several other hooded figures in black. In the center of them was a lone figure in a white robe. She watched in fascinated horror as the figure was disrobed. She sucked in her breath as she saw the now nude figure of a young man. He was lifted and put into the barrel. As water was poured on top of him, he swung his head around to shake the water from his eyes. Callie stared in wide-eyed terror as she recognized the next evening's sacrifice. It was Joe Hardy.
She began struggling with the ropes around her wrists. Everyone was concentrating on Joe, she observed. If she could get free she could go for help. She knew she didn't stand a chance of getting him away by herself.
Joe looked ill. He had lost a lot of weight and she could see the sallow, sunken-in look on his face. She realized now why two of the men had been holding his arms as they entered. Joe was too weak to stand up! Her heart went out to him as he was taken from the barrel and a clean robe was put on him. As he was once again taken by the arms, his face took on a look of revulsion like she had never seen. He obviously knew what they wre going to do to him and the thought of it made him sick.
Callie watched as everyone followed Joe, and the men who seemed to be in charge, from the cavern. She wondered briefly why Joe had vocalized no protest but decided he must have been through this many times before....if she could judge by his current physical condition.
She could hear the people chanting outside, the sound growing in intensity, and fought back tears as her imagination ran wild as to what they were doing to Joe. Eventually, the sounds faded away. She saw them take Joe by the cavern entrance, the once white robe Joe wore now stained with blood, his hair sticky with the same. Was it his blood, she wondered. She cried even as some of the members of the satanic congregation returned to the cavern to empty the barrel and cleanse it for the next rite.
After losing Callie, Frank and Vanessa searched every road along the stretch of highway, even returning to the road which led to the cliffs. Finally, as the sun began to set, Frank admitted defeat. Vanessa drove to the police station and reported Callie missing. While he was there he checked to see if anything new hat turned up. The answer was negative. Vanessa drove Frank home.
Mr. Hardy returned home shortly after Frank. He found Frank sitting in the living room staring at the TV set. Not unusual, except it hadn't been turned on. "Did you find anything?" Frank asked his dad, his brown eyes pleading for a snippet of info.
"Bailey Wyndham lives in Southport with his wife, Marcia and daughter, Francessca," Mr. Hardy told Frank. "But," and he held up a hand as he saw the gleam in Frank's eyes. "But they aren't the Bailey and Francessca Joe knew."
"Identity theft at it's worst," Frank cracked in frustration. He leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his eyes. Mr. Hardy didn't know if it was because Frank was tired or because he was about to cry. "Callie's missing," Frank said then told his dad about the green Toyota and losing Callie. "I didn't even get a chance to tell her about Joe," he ended.
"Let's get some sleep," Mr. Hardy suggested. "Don't you have an exam in the morning?"
"I'm not going," Frank told his dad. "I couldn't concentrate knowing Joe and Callie...." he broke off and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. "Want to know something funny?" he asked then continued without waiting for a reply. "I was worried Joe couldn't function on his own so I avoided helping him when I should have," he said, thinking of the locker incident with Aaron. "Francessca stepped in and took over as his protector. I wanted him to be self-reliant; to not need me. Not depend on me and he didn't. He got close to Francessca and she betrayed him. Kind of like me." Frank gave a short, derisive laugh before crossing his arms on his knees and burying his face there.
Mr. Hardy sank onto the sofa beside Frank and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "Shh..." he soothed his son. "Joe knows you love him and will always be there for him."
"But I wasn't," Frank told him. "I let him down."
"Stop it!" ordered Mr. Hardy sternly. "You haven't let your brother down. We're going to find him."
"You don't understand," Frank said. "You know the saying, am I my brother's keeper? Well, I tried not to be. I tried to make him take care of himself. I didn't want to be responsible for him."
"No," Mr. Hardy denied. "You didn't want to worry about Joe," he protested. "That's not the same thing."
"Isn't it?" Frank demanded, angry at himself.
"No, it isn't," Mr. Hardy insisted. "You wanted Joe to look out for himself because you aren't always going to be there, not because you quit caring."
"I could never quit caring about Joe," Frank declared, looking like a lost little boy. "I need him."
Mr. Hardy squeezed Frank's shoulders then stood up. "Come on," he urged. "Let's get some rest. Maybe we'll find something we missed tomorrow."
Callie struggled with her ropes all night and by the time the people arrived to bring barrels of fresh water she had loosened them. When Joe was brought into the cavern this time, he still wore the blood-stained robe from the night before. Things seemed a little different from the night before and, Callie noted, Joe sensed a difference too.
Joe was de-robed and set in the barrel. Buckets were upturned, and Joe was covered, not with water, but with wine. Joe coughed as some of the spray floated up his nostrils. The red-headed man came over and made the sign of an inverted cross on Joe's forehead. Joe looked away and, for the first time, caught sight of Callie. Remembering what he had overheard, Joe's eyes began to water. It was bad enough knowing he was going to die but to think about watching Callie killed as the goat had been the night before last or as the cow had last night...Joe couldn't bear it. Overcome with mental and physical fatigue and something more that he had never before experienced, Joe blacked out.
Frank got out and went over to where three men were standing and watching him with some interest. "Have either of you seen a brown sedan or a blue Volvo?"
As all the answers came back negative, Frank grew more hopeful. "Thanks!" he said a bit cheerfully and hurried back to Vanessa.
"Well?" she asked when he got in the car.
"No," Frank told her. "Which means they must have turned off somewhere along the way."
"Not many places to turn," Vanessa noted what Frank already knew. "Let's go hunting," she said, turning the car around and driving more slowly than she had before. "There is a road coming up on our right," she observed.
"No good," Frank said. "It just dead ends at the cliffs." They drove a little further. "Hey! There," Frank said, pointing to a dirt road ahead.
Vanessa slowed down and made the turn. She hadn't gone too far when she had to stop. A huge rock was blocking the road.
"I guess not," Frank said in a discouraged tone. "Let's look for another road." Ten minutes later, they gave up. "I don't see how we could have missed them," Frank said.
"Unless they did drive by those construction workers and they were too busy to notice," Vanessa suggested.
"But why hasn't Callie tried to contact us?" Frank wondered. "She has the CB."
Callie was taken back through the woods, past the clearing and into the rocky area on the other side. There, she was bound and gagged and left in a corner. No one paid any attention to her as they brought forth buckets of water and set them down near a large barrel.
She listened to what was being said, her blood growing colder as the minutes passed. Someone was to be sacrificed at dusk the next night. Was this what Frank had said was more important? Did he know about the sacrifice? Did he know there was a Satanic cult in Bayport? She shuddered, wondering if Frank would arrive in time to save whoever was being sacrificed. To save her.
She heard a man say that she was going to be used in place of one of the animals as a preliminary sacrifice the next evening but for tonight, she could stay where she was and watch the ritual.
What was the ritual they were talking about, she wondered as a crowd gathered, each one wearing a black robe with the hood pulled over their heads. Into the area came several other hooded figures in black. In the center of them was a lone figure in a white robe. She watched in fascinated horror as the figure was disrobed. She sucked in her breath as she saw the now nude figure of a young man. He was lifted and put into the barrel. As water was poured on top of him, he swung his head around to shake the water from his eyes. Callie stared in wide-eyed terror as she recognized the next evening's sacrifice. It was Joe Hardy.
She began struggling with the ropes around her wrists. Everyone was concentrating on Joe, she observed. If she could get free she could go for help. She knew she didn't stand a chance of getting him away by herself.
Joe looked ill. He had lost a lot of weight and she could see the sallow, sunken-in look on his face. She realized now why two of the men had been holding his arms as they entered. Joe was too weak to stand up! Her heart went out to him as he was taken from the barrel and a clean robe was put on him. As he was once again taken by the arms, his face took on a look of revulsion like she had never seen. He obviously knew what they wre going to do to him and the thought of it made him sick.
Callie watched as everyone followed Joe, and the men who seemed to be in charge, from the cavern. She wondered briefly why Joe had vocalized no protest but decided he must have been through this many times before....if she could judge by his current physical condition.
She could hear the people chanting outside, the sound growing in intensity, and fought back tears as her imagination ran wild as to what they were doing to Joe. Eventually, the sounds faded away. She saw them take Joe by the cavern entrance, the once white robe Joe wore now stained with blood, his hair sticky with the same. Was it his blood, she wondered. She cried even as some of the members of the satanic congregation returned to the cavern to empty the barrel and cleanse it for the next rite.
After losing Callie, Frank and Vanessa searched every road along the stretch of highway, even returning to the road which led to the cliffs. Finally, as the sun began to set, Frank admitted defeat. Vanessa drove to the police station and reported Callie missing. While he was there he checked to see if anything new hat turned up. The answer was negative. Vanessa drove Frank home.
Mr. Hardy returned home shortly after Frank. He found Frank sitting in the living room staring at the TV set. Not unusual, except it hadn't been turned on. "Did you find anything?" Frank asked his dad, his brown eyes pleading for a snippet of info.
"Bailey Wyndham lives in Southport with his wife, Marcia and daughter, Francessca," Mr. Hardy told Frank. "But," and he held up a hand as he saw the gleam in Frank's eyes. "But they aren't the Bailey and Francessca Joe knew."
"Identity theft at it's worst," Frank cracked in frustration. He leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his eyes. Mr. Hardy didn't know if it was because Frank was tired or because he was about to cry. "Callie's missing," Frank said then told his dad about the green Toyota and losing Callie. "I didn't even get a chance to tell her about Joe," he ended.
"Let's get some sleep," Mr. Hardy suggested. "Don't you have an exam in the morning?"
"I'm not going," Frank told his dad. "I couldn't concentrate knowing Joe and Callie...." he broke off and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. "Want to know something funny?" he asked then continued without waiting for a reply. "I was worried Joe couldn't function on his own so I avoided helping him when I should have," he said, thinking of the locker incident with Aaron. "Francessca stepped in and took over as his protector. I wanted him to be self-reliant; to not need me. Not depend on me and he didn't. He got close to Francessca and she betrayed him. Kind of like me." Frank gave a short, derisive laugh before crossing his arms on his knees and burying his face there.
Mr. Hardy sank onto the sofa beside Frank and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "Shh..." he soothed his son. "Joe knows you love him and will always be there for him."
"But I wasn't," Frank told him. "I let him down."
"Stop it!" ordered Mr. Hardy sternly. "You haven't let your brother down. We're going to find him."
"You don't understand," Frank said. "You know the saying, am I my brother's keeper? Well, I tried not to be. I tried to make him take care of himself. I didn't want to be responsible for him."
"No," Mr. Hardy denied. "You didn't want to worry about Joe," he protested. "That's not the same thing."
"Isn't it?" Frank demanded, angry at himself.
"No, it isn't," Mr. Hardy insisted. "You wanted Joe to look out for himself because you aren't always going to be there, not because you quit caring."
"I could never quit caring about Joe," Frank declared, looking like a lost little boy. "I need him."
Mr. Hardy squeezed Frank's shoulders then stood up. "Come on," he urged. "Let's get some rest. Maybe we'll find something we missed tomorrow."
Callie struggled with her ropes all night and by the time the people arrived to bring barrels of fresh water she had loosened them. When Joe was brought into the cavern this time, he still wore the blood-stained robe from the night before. Things seemed a little different from the night before and, Callie noted, Joe sensed a difference too.
Joe was de-robed and set in the barrel. Buckets were upturned, and Joe was covered, not with water, but with wine. Joe coughed as some of the spray floated up his nostrils. The red-headed man came over and made the sign of an inverted cross on Joe's forehead. Joe looked away and, for the first time, caught sight of Callie. Remembering what he had overheard, Joe's eyes began to water. It was bad enough knowing he was going to die but to think about watching Callie killed as the goat had been the night before last or as the cow had last night...Joe couldn't bear it. Overcome with mental and physical fatigue and something more that he had never before experienced, Joe blacked out.