Chapter 5
Rays of sunlight glistened through the window blinds onto Alfred's face as he slowly opened his sky-blue eyes. He lay outstretched on a dark leather chesterfield sofa, wearing the same blue jeans and t-shirt he wore the day before.
As he sat up, he could feel something on his face: his glasses. Rarely ever did he sleep with them on, but it was starting to become a bad habit.
He took them off and began wiping them with the bottom of his shirt as he remembered the events of the night before.
He was waiting for a reply from Francis ... scrolling through social media ... watching youtube until he ultimately fell asleep on the sofa instead of his king-sized bed on the top floor.
After putting his glasses back on, he looked at the time on his phone: 8:03 AM.
He got up from the sofa and made his way across the carpeted floor to the stairs, climbing up to the main floor. His thick socks slid slightly as he walked across the wooden floor until he arrived on the kitchen rug. He started pulling out various ingredients from the refrigerator along with a waffle iron, setting each carefully on the green counter top. He began to mix the batter before pouring it into the circular iron and closing it shut.
As he waited, he called Matthew.
He listened to several rings before reaching voicemail. After the bleep, he hung up.
Alfred stood up with his empty plate and brought it to the sink to wash. After putting his dish and silverware away, he decided it would be a nice time to go for a walk outside.
He walked to the door and opened it.
To his surprise, standing beside a large, red vehicle was Matthew, dressed in summer clothes.
"Matthew!" said Alfred, sounding surprised but excited all the same.
"Alfred!" MAtthew replied in the same tone with a smile. "So, are you set?"
"For what?"
Matthew raised an eyebrow. "The festival?"
It all came raining down on Alfred. The memory of getting tickets. All the talks over the phone, the long conversations. Yet he hadn't even touched his suitcase.
"RIGHT. THAT. Of course-"
Alfred tried to hide the surprise that was spreading across his face that was proving to be too difficult to hide. That is unless he thought of a good lie, and quickly.
"I will go grab my bags and you wait in the car!" he said loudly with a large smile, grinning as he closed the door before Matthew had time to follow him.
As soon as the door was shut behind him, he locked it and stood against the painted frame. He collected his thoughts before lunging up the stairs to his room two steps at a time.
"The FESTIVAL. The FESTIVAL! The KING'S FESTIVAL?!" Alfred sang in a silly voice in a high-pitched tone to himself, mimicking the singing from the musical, Into the Woods.
He reached the top of the stairs and entered his room. He quickly grabbed his duffle bag and began filling it with whatever clothes he found in his dresser. Before heading back downstairs, he quickly shoved a toothbrush and other bathroom products into his bag before zipping it shut and rushing down the stairs to the door.
He unlocked the door and then turned around to re-lock it with his key. Turning around, he walked to Matthew's car, opening the backseat.
Alfred set his bag on the seat as he felt Matthew's eyes staring at him. He shut the door, wisked around the side, then got in the passenger's seat and buckled himself in, catching his breath.
Matthew turned the key ignition, shifted the vehicle into drive and drove away from the large cabin. After a minute of silence, he spoke.
"Did you forget anything?"
Alfred looked at him. "No, what makes you say that?
"You said "bags". And you only have one here."
Alfred paused. "I felt like packing light"
Matthew occasionally glanced at Alfred who was busy looking out the window with his arms crossed against his chest. He exhaled and prepared himself for the long car ride ahead of them.
The next hour was unusually quiet. Matthew decided to fill the silence with the sound of national public radio. His eyes occasionally darted over to his brother who sat leaning against the window frame, staring out at the scenery. It was very apparent to him that something was on Alfred's mind, but didn't want to pry, so he continued to drive down the highway, going further north into his terrain.
Eventually, they reached their destination and arrived at a hotel that stood off the side of the highway.
Matthew pulled off into the parking lot and put the car in park.
"Guess we're here," he said, trying to sound excited and happy.
Alfred has lain in the same position for the entirety of the trip with his head pressed against the glass and eyes and mind elsewhere from the earth.
"Alfred?" said Matthew.
Alfred sat up immediately, looking startled, then recognized where he was.
"Wow! We're alread here! Good driving Matt!" Alfred spoke in a strange, happy tone as he unbuckled and walked to grab his bag from the backseat.
Matthew smiled and they headed to the main lobby to check in.
It was mid-afternoon now, but it was still a nice, warm summer day. The weather was perfect, with a slight occasional breeze and sunlight that escaped through the clouds that spread across the sky. The hotel was surrounded by several, tall, thick pine trees that stretched almost as high as the hotel itself. Several cars flooded the parking lot. Adults roamed the hotel lobby in search of friends, taxis, or cellphone reception while small kids stood by their large families in swim suits waiting to go back into the pool after having lunch.
It was loud, causing Matthew to shout to the receptionist to get their room key as Alfred stared at the families that walked by. He caught the eye of a small little toddler, wet from the pool water wearing a diaper along with swimming trunks. He stared up at Alfred's tall frame, transfixed. He stared until his parents tugged him along back to the pool area out of sight.
The two brothers wandered up to the second floor where their room was. As soon as the door was open, Alfred smelled the fresh smell of clean sheets, towels, and a vacuumed floor. They both wandered over to the two queen-sized beds and placed their bags on top.
Matthew opened the drapes as Alfred lay outstretched on the bed comforter.
"Nice view" said Alfred from the bed in a plain voice.
"Yeah," replied Matthew.
He turned around to see Alfred curled up on the bed, looking like his mind was still elsewhere.
"Al, is something on your mind?"
"No, I just didn't sleep well," said Alfred almost defensively.
"Sorry to hear... I thought you might nod off in the car."
"I don't sleep well in cars"
Matthew could argue about that, but he wasn't in the mood for starting things. Instead he sighed and looked at his watch.
"Well, it's almost 1:30... I bet you must be hungry, because I am!"
Alfred sat up. "I guess I could eat a burger or two"
Matthew smirked. "I think there's a menu we can order off. Let's take a look.."
Francis felt his eyes peel open to darkness. However he knew he had to be awake.
He could hear his unsteady breathing and felt the area around him. He was laying on something firm and scratchy. He stretched his legs and sat up, but realized he did it too quickly and felt his head start to spin.
"Gah... what is this?"
Was he at home? He didn't remember his room being so dark. Or his bed so rough.
He stretched out his hands, feeling around where he sat on the piece of furniture. He soon felt the cushion end. He swung his legs down to the floor. He walked out into the darkness with his arms stretched, searching for a light switch or a door. Instead, he found cold, metal bars blocking his path. They seemed to stretch on and on. He reached a corner, but was unable to find a door. He couldn't see anything but cold assume that he was trapped in some large cage with a high ceiling. High enough that the air quality didn't feel stiff even with no movement.
He tried to shake the bars, but they were too tough.
"Hey!" yelled Francis.
He could hear his voice echo above him. The way it traveled suggested that the room was larger outside of the cage he was located in. That even though the bars prevented him from leaving, there was still more room outside of the barred area.
"I'm stuck in here! Someone help! Help!" he continued. He tried to bang his fists on the metal, but it hurt too much.
He stood back waiting to hear a reply, but after several seconds there was none. He felt his way back to the furniture and sat down on it. He felt his pockets: no phone. He felt his hands: no rings.
Several thoughts entered his brain. He tried to recall what lead up to the situation. It was fuzzy, but he recalled flying his helicopter to ... somewhere... wait-
"Arthur!" Francis yelled.
He heard a grunt somewhere behind him.
The country jumped back, but not before swiping his hand towards whatever made the noise. He felt it hit something warm and fleshy.
"Ow."
Francis froze where he stood.
"Angelette?"
"You know, you'd think slapping someone wouldn't be that affective but... that had some punch to it I have to admit..." The person sucked through their teeth in pain.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" said Francis, trying to find the Brit in the dark. He reached out as he crawled awkwardly across the firm mattress until his fingers made contact with scruffy hair.
"It's nothing," said Arthur as Francis sat down in front of him, stretching out his hands once more to feel the country's face. "Though I'd wish you'd stop touching me"
Francis sighed, annoyed, and brought his hands away.
"I can see you're still the same grumpy old man that I remember. And still pissing people off with your amazing social skills."
Arthur chuckled in an annoyed tone, "And your voice is still annoying as ever." He shuffled slightly where he sat. "Damn this headache..."
Francis turned towards his voice. "So, who did you upset this time?"
"Ow, ow, ow..." said Arthur under his breath, but loudly enough so Francis could hear it. "I-I wish I knew... all I know is that this man..." He paused, trying to remember. "I was suddenly at my house again, and then they kept asking where... ow, ow... shit-"
"Well, you better remember quickly. I bet this is a cell and they'll be back in the morning to get whatever information they want out of you by then."
Francis felt the mattress shift as Arthur stood up and walked away. He could hear his footsteps, then stopping once he reached metal bars.
He heard what he could assume was Arthur kicking the bars several times.
"They're too thick, we'll have to think of something else"
The light pounding stopped and Francis heard Arthur's unsteady breathing.
There was a brief silence before Francis heard a fainter noise.
Annoyed, he stood up and marched over.
"Hey! I said it's not going to do anything!" Francis yelled.
He stood in front of the country, but noticed his labored breathing getting faster than before.
Francis reached his arms out to feel the Brit, he found his forehead. It felt hot.
"Arthur-
Suddenly, he felt the country slipping down.
"Arthur!"
He wrapped his arms around him before he could touch the cement floor.
Francis knelt down, holding Arthur in his arms, resting him against his leg as the country lay unconscious in his arms. Francis brought the back of his hand to his forehead. It was very hot. In fact his whole body felt unnaturally warm.
He recalled the injuries Arthur had sustained. Too much trauma to the head...
The Frenchman gently lifted the Englishman up and brought him back over to the mattress, careful to watch his steps. He lay him down and tried to think of what to do next. He had no phone, no outside communication, and a very sick country. And on top of all of that, he had until morning to get out before the men came back. Who knows what they'd do to them.
His biggest question was:
What now?