Bring Me Home
Chapter 5
Jordan whimpered as the phone clicked off, the screen flashing, "No Battery" at her. She desperately tried twice more to call Woody again but the phone was well and truly dead.
Scrubbing at her face accomplished two things: it helped fight back the tears and gave her hands something to do other than try the number again. Instead, she gently tossed the phone back into the bushes before revolving in a slow circle, thinking over her options.
She could run through the forest and try to find a road. She looked closely, but she couldn't find any distinctive road and it seemed that Digger had thought about her getting out while he was gone. There were tire treads in about 6 different spots. Jordan rejected that option.
She could hide in the forest, maybe climb a tall tree or hide in a ditch. But then if Digger found her, she'd be a sitting duck-and Woody might not be able to find her in the forest. After a short deliberation, she decided to save that one for if she couldn't think of something better.
She could go back to the basement-pretend that she never even got out. But even the thought of going back to that dingy place made Jordan's skin crawl and her stomach turn dangerously. With a shake of her head, she rejected that idea.
She could hide in one of the already collapsed houses among the ruins. But it still held the problem that she'd be a sitting duck when Digger found her-because he would look for her, but only God knew where he'd start. That one, too, was rejected.
"This is ridiculous," Jordan muttered with a sudden fierceness, whiskey eyes ablaze, as she threw her shoulders back and raised her chin defiantly to the non-existent enemy, "I am Jordan Marie Cavanaugh. I have never backed down from a perp before-and this one deserves a good ass kicking, the biggest ever. He. Won't. Beat. Me! I won't be broken-not by him, not by anyone!"
Her honey brown eyes-newly restored to their proper, full-time condition without the contacts- snapped with a fierce anger and rebellion. The gold streaks had faded from her dyed hair some time ago and the dye itself had faded away the morning before. Her back was straight, her chin high as the wind blew a few locks of curly hair.
She turned purposefully, the pipe gripped tight in her hands. She mounted the steps and re-entered the house, refusing to let fear take over. She looked about her decisively before smirking;
She would be ready for him.
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"Okay," Nigel began, reentering the room and spreading a map across the table, Bug a few steps behind him. "This," he pointed to the rather large area circled on the map, "Is the closest I could get to Jordan's location with the cell phone trace."
"And these," Bug tapped the areas circled in red, "are places with forests and old, abandoned buildings."
Running a hand through his hair, Woody studied the map, sighing, "That's a big area to cover boys."
"But we do have to find her!" Lily exclaimed, as if Woody had told her they were giving up the search, "We have to!"
"Yeah, Lily, we'll find her," woody threw her a sad smile before saying lightly, "We'll hear her a mile away-it is Jordan after all."
"Yea," Lily wiped away her tears purposefully, sitting up straighter and adding more decisively, "Yea."
"That's our Lily," Nigel smiled proudly.
Everyone jumped minutes later when the door suddenly crashed in, the 5 law enforcement officers drawing their guns. The baby faced reporter squeaked in terror at the 5 guns aimed at him, rushing to scrabble backwards from the room, leaving the small notebook where it had skidded when he'd fallen. Nigel, however, wasn't having it.
His best friend had been gone for almost 3 months, all because of some crazy psycho, the same crazy psycho who now had her in his custody. He was pissed- off the wall, ready to shoot something pissed- and this baby-faced reporter, who was only two days out of diapers, had the stupidity to listen in on a conversation with 5 people with guns and an ex Navy-man-and then try to crawl away once he was found out.
Nigel stalked forward, his tall frame fairly exuding anger. The reporter whimpered fearfully and tried to scramble to his feet but Nigel grabbed hold of his shirt front. The Brit hauled the younger man up so his feet were dangling about 3 inches off of the ground and so they were now noes-to-nose.
"Who the hell are you?" Nigel demanded in a growl, making the younger man shrink back from him.
"J-J-Johnson. Ph-Phillip Jo-Johnson." He stuttered slightly, choking slightly thanks to the hold Nigel had on his shirt.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here about the missing ME-" the young reporter stuttered fearfully.
"Wait. How did he know about Jordan?" Eddie demanded, "We're the only ones who know about her disappearance."
"Except Digger." Drew breathed, the entire room turning collectively to Johnson, who Nigel had returned to the floor, still holding his shirt.
"Where is she?" Nigel demanded in a roar, lifting the young man back up off of his feet and slamming him into the wall.
"I-I don't-" Johnson choked out, clawing at Nigel's hand.
Woody walked limpingly forward, cocking the gun right between the reporter's eyes as he hissed, venomously, "If you don't tell me how the fuck you know that Jordan's missing, I'll put a bullet between your eyes, law be damned."
"M-My editor told me," Johnson choked out fearfully, "He made me come-he s-said it would make my c-career. Y-You don't tu-turn down a job like this!"
Cal burst suddenly through the door, grinning madly as he said, "Woody, I've got-!" He stopped abruptly as he took in the sight of Nigel holding an unknown man against the wall by his throat and his own brother aiming a gun at said man.
"Don't ask," Woody grunted, before Cal could get a word in, "What's up?"
"One of my buddies on the street says he knows of someone who's been asking around about 'Jordan Cavanaugh' for about a week and a half." Cal said with a smirk, shrugging slightly as the odd position of the three men and obediently keeping his mouth shut about it.
"Good." Woody said with a predatory smirk, dropping his gun from Johnson's head and turning to his brother, "We'll go check this guy out-you guys fight it out between yourselves who gets to go see the editor."
"Wait up, Hoyt. I'm coming with you," Drew said, joining the two brothers in the doorway.
"Woody, are you sure it's such a good idea to do this?" Lily asked delicately, "Your legs…"
"Are working." Woody said shortly, before softening at the hurt look that crossed Lily's face,
I'm sorry Lily, I shouldn't have snapped. It's just been a long day."
Lily smiled understandingly and nodded, knowing the feeling.
"Sorry, Lils," Woody shrugged, "But I have to find her. I won't let her down again."
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Jordan heard the car pulling up an hour later, She'd sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the door, only pacing occasionally to keep her legs from getting too stiff. To keep her mind off of all the horrible possibilities of her predicament, she'd been singing softly under her breath (the Kinks helped remind her of Woody, who's memory gave her the strength she needed), but she'd stopped abruptly when she'd heard the car.
Standing, she moved swiftly to the door. She pressed her side to the wall beside the door, the pipe gripped tightly in her sweaty hands, her mouth dry as she listened to the footsteps crunching through the gravel up to the doorway. She closed her eyes in a brief moment of fear as the doorknob turned, but as it opened, her eyes did too, flashing with a wild defiance.
Digger opened the door and, with a mighty surge of bravery, Jordan brought the pipe swinging down to his head. But Digger, seemingly sensing something amiss, turned at the last moment and the pip caught his should instead, still giving a satisfying "thud".
Digger hollered in pain and Jordan gave a slight shriek of dismay, but bravely swung the pipe again. This time, however, Digger caught the pipe in mid-swing with an angry growl.
Jordan's eyes widened and she screamed slightly as Digger pulled the pipe from her with a violent twist. Jordan jumped forward unexpectedly, startling Digger so much that he stumbled backwards. Jordan took the chance and raced forwards through the door, skipping the stairs altogether in her haste to get to the cherry-red jeep parked in the middle of the lot.
She'd made it only three feet from the porch when the pipe came crashing down between her shoulder blades. She fell to the dirt with a breathless cry, her back throbbing.
"Stupid bitch!" Digger yelled angrily, his face red with anger as he smashed the pipe down again on her prone body.
Jordan screamed loudly as the pipe connected with her left arm, giving a tell-tale crack. And then again as the pipe slammed against her abdomen, knocking the breath from her body.
Digger hauled Jordan quickly to her feet, shoving her forcefully into the house before she could get her breath back. She started fighting back again, however, when they were only a few steps into the house.
Turning abruptly, she swung her good arm and hit him in the side of the head. Digger yelled in pain, lifting the pipe again before Jordan dived at him, tackling him to the ground and pushing the pain in her abdomen, arm and shoulder blades from her mind.
Her hands clasped around the wrists of his arms and the pair struggled forcefully, breathing heavily, violently cursing each other and-in Jordan's case- praying silently. But Digger was much stronger than Jordan, even when she was in perfect health-which she was most definitely not now.
Digger flipped Jordan onto her back, straddling her hips with his slim body. He forced her wrists together, holding them with one hand while he used the other to pick the pipe back up. Jordan screamed violently and began fighting back viciously, even going so far as lifting her head and sinking her teeth into his arm.
Angrily, Digger swung the pipe at her, smashing it into her left cheek, but not hard enough to break it. Jordan grunted in pain, but before she could have any further reaction, Digger swung the pipe again, hitting her in the temple.
Jordan's vision became blurry and her thoughts went fuzzy, her resistance weak. Digger viscously hauled her up by her hair before shoving her maliciously forward. With a twisted smile, he opened the basement door and shoved her down the stairs.
Jordan crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, Digger slamming the door with a bang. Jordan managed one, breathy, word before her vision went black;
"Woody."
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"So a guy in this building has been asking about Jordan?" Woody asked with obvious distaste as the three men surveyed the dilapidated apartment building.
It was made of what had once been red brick, but that was faded to a dull pink with age, sun and lack of proper care. Graffiti covered more than 90 of the surface and the building reeked so strongly of garbage and fecal matter you could smell it from across the street.
Before Cal could answer, a tall black man in a black parka and a tiny white man in a red parka walked forward from the apartment building entrance. The black man also wore a black bandanna and the white man a backwards baseball cap.
"Yo Cal-lie!" the white man grinned, holding out his hand and clasping it with Cal's outstretched one as he pulled the bigger man into a hug, "How ya been man?"
"Eh, can't complain Alex," Cal replied with an answering grin, repeating the hug process with the black man, asking, "What's up Julius?"
"What's up Cal-vin!" Julius returned with a smile.
Cal smirked at the two before sobering abruptly, asking, "This the place?"
"Yea." Alex nodded, "Older man. He came 'round the Market a couple weeks ago, wanting to know if anyone had heard about a Jordan Cavanaugh. He kept coming 'round every few days, then last week he just stopped.
"How do you know where he lives?" Drew asked suspiciously, eyeing the two men uncertainly.
"Don't question Cal's informants-they just know everything." Woody murmured, absently pulling his gun from his holster, "What apartment?"
"109. First floor." Alex answered promptly, eyeing Woody's gun.
"Thanks." Woody nodded absentmindedly, walking quickly into the building, not even pausing as he called over his shoulder, "Are you coming?"
Drew and Cal ran quickly after Woody, Drew drawing his own gun with his good hand. The trio moved swiftly through the hallway, not even bothering to knock on the door when they reached it. Instead, Cal kicked the door in, backing away and letting the two gun-carry law enforcement officers proceed him.
"FBI!" Drew hollered, "Show yourself!"
Woody didn't bother to identify himself, instead swinging into the living room with his gun up, Drew 5 seconds behind him. They were met with the sight of an elder man with his own gun pointed at them. A very familiar elder man.
"Max?"
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A/N Did you like? Let me know!
Red