Chapter 5 – I want to Break Free


Bones


Present Day (18 hours since abduction) …

Okay…I have a nail file and I am trapped in a coffin.

The front lid of the coffin, the side that is supposed to open is practically cemented shut. But then why the nail file? It clicked in my head a second later, the back side of the coffin. What keeps the coffin staying open once it has been lifted open…

Hinges.

My hand reached back out to my side with the nail file and gripped it like it was my last source of oxygen. I felt towards my left side of my body, feeling for the metal hinges under the material of the coffin. Thankfully, I wasn't placed in one of these expensive caliber types Booth and I had seen on a previous case we had worked on regarding a funeral home.

There…I located the hinge. My fingers traced over it slowly. Two screws only a few inches apart. I brought the nail file up, using the pointy end to first rip through the material little by little, until I could feel the smooth outline of the screw.

I cursed.

In being happy that I was buried alive in a cheap coffin, that also meant it was constructed with cheap screws. A slotted screw head to be exact. It was one of the first form of screw heads to ever be developed. It was the cheapest, because it was not only easy to make, but because it was so straightforward. It also meant the downfall to the design was that it was hard to actually keep the tool in the slot. Not only did that make it hard to grip and unscrew, but it could cause enough damage to make it impossible to grip and therefore unscrew.

There was another challenge. This type of screw I needed was a flat head…a flat head that was fit perfectly for these types of screws. A flat head screwdriver I did not have. I could already feel that based on the slotted screw width and the tip of the nail file I had…this wasn't going to be easy—if possible—at all.

I take a deep breath, my finger locating the screw one more time, before I bring the tip to the groove. It's science. I am one of the best—no the best—I can manage work this screw so that I can get it out and get the hell out of this death trap.

After the fiftieth time of trying to turn the screw, the nail file slipped from my finger, nipping at my skin and cutting through.

I brought my finger to my mouth, putting pressure on the pinch. I laid there for a moment, just staring at the cheap white cloth lining the coffin, my body already sweating at how hot it was in the enclosed space. I could tell oxygen was already getting more and more sparce, especially as I used more of it up to try and break free.

I brought my palms flat against the top, pushing once again only to get full resistance. Tears started to form at the back of my eyes and slip out the side. The magnitude that I was once again buried alive, alone, and feeling like it was a losing battle was forefront in my mind.

My hands starting punching at the top of the coffin. "Let me out! Let me out!" I kept shouting, until either I was too tired, or my voice started to go out.

I'm here, Bones. I'm with you.

"Booth…"

Now I was experiencing what Booth would say in his Catholic faith, as hearing a ghost. His ghost. That made no sense. There is no such thing as ghosts. Who knows where this coffin is being kept. It could be carbon monoxide poisoning, and my brain could be causing hallucinations. It would make sense that it was Booth's voice I was hearing. I always considered Booth as a strong protector. One that would do anything and stop at nothing to make sure I was safe.

Ghosts are real, Brennan. And I will find you. You believe that, right?

"Yes. I know you will find me, Booth. You always find me."

I know you won't give up, Bones. Pick up the nail file and start again. Keep going.

I wiped at the tears at the corner of my eyes and reached out to find the nail file I had discarded. I couldn't get emotional. I had to think logical. That was what I did best. That was why I was the best.

I lined up the nail file to the head of the screw, took a deep breath and started again.

I don't know how long it has been, my fingers were aching, I had scratches all up and down, and the file kept slipping from my hand due to the blood seeping from the cuts on my fingers. Having to stop every couple of minutes to wipe on my clothes or outfit to begin gripping again, made it a long, slow, painstaking process.

The euphoria I feel with the first screw pops out of the hole is indescribable. I have been on many digs, I have been a part of helping to confirm all types of races, tribes, and origins, but nothing feels as rewarding, and as good as this…getting the screw to fall from its place.

You did it, Bones. I'm proud of you. Keep going.

"I'm getting tired, Seeley. It's—it's hot in here," I reply.

We've been in worse situations then this before, Bones. You got this.

"I wish you were here," I admitted.

I could hear his sigh. It was his sigh that told me he wanted to say or do more, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Probably because of our professional partnership. Also, because the F.B.I. has rules about no interpersonal relationships. Mostly, because of me. Because I am incapable of feeling emotion in that manner. Of wanting to give myself up in that manner. Even though, a large part of me wants too.

I'm always with you, Bones. I'm here with you now. Keep going. I need you to keep going.

It was almost as if I could feel him here next to me. Guiding my hand to the other remaining screw. Keeping me focused to get out, even though the oxygen level were severely depleted, I was getting severely tired, and my hands were hurting.

When the second screw came free, the relief was better than the first. I pushed at the lid, the resistance still a bit difficult, but nowhere near as bad as it was the first time. The lack of oxygen was making it difficult to use my full strength, but the moment light started to peek through, it was enough for me to push even further until the lid was fully opened.

I sat up, wiping at my face, the euphoria I was feeling at being free after being locked in the enclosed space for at minimum two hours, while working my hands until my fingers bleed.

"I did it. I did it."

Of course, you did. I never doubted you for a second, Bones.

I practically rolled out of the coffin, falling to the ground. I laid there for a moment, before I got back to my feet, my hands on my thighs still feeling like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. Like I would never get enough oxygen again.

The heaves were coming, a reaction so strong after having been buried for so long. How did I get here again? At the hands of the Grave Digger…again.

I told you not to go anywhere without me. I specifically told you.

I stood straighter. "You know, now is not a good time to try and prove a point."

I could picture his cocky smile. The way his head would tilt to the side. The way that he would look at me to tell me that I knew that he knew he was right…and my inability to sometimes admit that I was wrong was difficult.

You know I am right.

I grin. "Shut up."

It's the first time I look around and notice I am in what appears to be one large metal box. It could be a submarine, shipping container, or god knows what else.

My eyes scanned around the room, trying to logically find a way out of the place. There weren't any windows. There was a hatch on the ceiling of the metal tin can, that I could squeeze out of if I could reach it, but the problem was, there was no way to climb or reach the top of the ceiling. There wasn't a door to just walk right out of either. The entire metal bin looked like it could withstand a nuclear blast.

There was nothing else in the room. Nothing, with the exception of one medium size slender pipe. I let out a long sigh of my own, wondering how one medium size slender pipe was going to help get me out of this mess.

Another challenge.

Bones…a clue. Give me a clue.

I looked around wondering how I could give him a clue when there was nothing there…and then I noticed it. I missed it the first time around, but as I squinted, I could confirm what I thought my eyes were seeing.

A camera.

I was being watched. The Grave Digger was watching me. These were all tests. The nail file, the coffin…the Grave Digger was testing me to see if I could make it out of each of these designed tests that had been set up for me.

I didn't know how long it had been since I had been gone…but I was sure the hours were ticking by to where we could be close to almost a full day. Booth wasn't here yet. That means they didn't find my clue.

"Clue! The clue!"

I ran over to the medium pipe on the ground and gripped it in my hand. I doubted the camera feed would provide sound, so I just had to hope what I was about to do now would reach Angela and she would crack the clue I was trying to get to them.

I started banging the nearest pipe in succent hits. I repeated the process over and over again, until my hands and arms were too tried to keep going.

I leaned against the metal crate behind me, my head dipping backwards, as I fought to catch my breath and regain some of my strength back. I was tried, bruised, and bleeding, but I was still alive. I was still alive. As long as I was still alive, I would keep going. The Grave Digger wouldn't win.

There was a click. My head leaned forward, at the sound of the click. The opposite wall of me lit up with red letters. A counter. A counter of an additional two hours. Another challenge.


I've stared at the room over and over again. The only thing, the only tool I have to escape is this one medium pipe. There is only one exit out of this place, and the hatch at the top was too far to reach.

This is a game. I know there is a way to get out with just this tool. The Grave Digger made it this way, so that I could. If I was smart enough to figure it out and move on to the next clue.

The clock on the wall kept ticking. It was hard not to think about what would happen if I was still in the room when the timer went off. Would it blow up? Would the container fill with water? I was on the clock, and when the clock ran out, something bad was going to happen. Most likely leading to my eminent death.

I flipped the coffin on his side, I even tried to maneuver it so that it was standing vertically, but each time it wasn't tall enough to get me to reach the hatch. The hatch was in the middle of the container, the coffin too wobbly to be steady that I could even reach the top.

My eyes scanned back at the pipe. Even with trying to use the pipe in conjunction with the coffin, it still wouldn't help me reach the hatch.

I climbed back down to look at my surroundings again. I must have scanned these walls a thousand times, and nothing was coming to mind on how the heck I could reach the hatch and get out.

"Booth…if you're here, I have about ten minutes left, and I could really use your help," I called out loud.

This is a problem, isn't it?

"I have nine minutes now, Booth. I…I don't think I am going to get out of this one."

His voice was solid, strong, confident. So, Booth.

Listen to me… you are brilliant. The smartest person I have ever known. You will figure a way to get out. You're a survivor, Bones. And you don't know how to fail.

My eyes were starting to fill again, the frustration of this whole thing, of not being able to get out bringing me to the edge.

"Not this time," I resigned. "I don't think I am going to make it."

Shut up, Bones.

I looked back at the clock, down to five minutes left on the clock.

"Booth, if this is it…if I am not going to make it—"

No. No, Bones. Don't you give up on me now. Don't you stop fighting on me.

I smiled. "You're the best person I've ever known, Booth. I want you to know that."

Three minutes.

Ditto, Bones. And we are going to keep being the best once you get out of here.

Two minutes.

"I have a ton of regrets, Booth. So many. Keeping myself closed off. Allowing everything from the past to dictate my future. I'm brilliant…but I've also been so dumb. Dumb enough to ignore the signal time after time."

We're not doing this, Bones. Not this way.

One minute.

"Looks like we may not have a choice," I replied, looking up towards the hatch.

Keep fighting. The clue is here Bones. You are brilliant and you will find it.

Ten seconds.

"You're a good man, Booth. Parker is a lucky boy to have you as a dad. I was lucky for having known you."

Bones! Bones!

There was a loud alarm sound that jolted me from leaning against the crate. That and the walls started moving. Moving inwards as the metal tin was starting to get smaller and smaller.

I was going to be crushed to death.

"Booth…"

Bones!

My shoe hit the metal pipe as the wall started closing me in. The idea clicked in that instance.

"I got it, Booth. I got it."

I grabbed the metal pipe, in my hand. I was so sure this was the way to stop it. The way to get out. The pipe was only medium length, which meant the walls were going to be closing in really close and I only had one shot.

Trying to stop the walls with the force closing in would crush the pipe both vertically and horizontally within seconds. That wouldn't work. I could hear the wood from the coffin starting to crack as the walls started to close in, forcing me towards the very middle.

The walls were only arm's length from me now, and moving in each second.

"Here goes nothing…"

As soon as I was sure the pipe would meet the distance, I angled it diagonally so that the front corner and the back corner were held by the pipe. The metals screeched and crackled at the intrusion of the pipe. The metal grunted as the mechanism continued to want to push the walls forward, but the pipe getting in the way from advancing forward.

Bones, that's only going to last so long. You have to get out now.

Booth was right. Even though the walls temporarily stopped, the pipe was bending each second that the walls pushed back trying to pushed themselves together.

I had one shot. The answer coming to me as my eyes looked all over the room. When the walls were far apart, I had no traction, nothing to help me get to the hatch. Now that the walls were closing in with the pipe, if I could leverage and get a starting point, I could essentially use each side to climb to the top and get to the hatch.

I moved what was remaining of the coffin over to give myself a boost. I had nothing to grip to hold my weight or to hold onto…so the only way it would work was using my legs and my back.

I leaned my back against one side, my feet in front of me as if I was sitting with my legs up, my knees almost to my chest. I would have to use my legs and back at the same time to climb upwards.

All my time at the gym and martial arts training would truly be put to the test now. Every time I moved my feet higher, I lifted my butt off the metal frame and pushed my back upwards. It was a painstaking process that felt like it took hours, but once I reached the top, I was able to turn the circular hatch and push the door open.

My arms felt like jelly, and my legs were screaming for the added stress and pressure I placed them under to finally come to an end. I gripped the edge of the open hatch, using my remaining upper strength to pull my body up enough until most of my torso was out of the hatch, making it easier to swing my legs out as well.

The first thing I noticed was the sun. The warm sun kissing my arms and legs as I climbed out of the metal death trap, and rolled on my back. The pure moment of relief that I was feeling in beating the Grave Digger's second test was short lived.

A loud crunch underneath me gave away. The pipe I had jimmied in each of the corners to keep the metal from caving in, gave way, all four sides coming together in a loud—thunk.

I had only been seconds away from my body—my bones—becoming thousands of shards of dust at the force of the metal being thrust together.

I tried to put the idea of coming close to dying twice now in the matter of hours out of my mind. I was sure I had beat the second test that the Grave Digger had no intention of me making it out alive.

I used my elbows to push myself up to a sitting position. I was finally going to be free. I could feel the sun and the clean air all around me.

My heart sank in my chest, as I forced myself to my knees. I was outside. I could feel the sun and the air, but I was definitely not free. What was left of the metal box below me sat on a barge in the middle of the ocean where nothing but water could be seen for miles and miles.

It was stupid of me that I could have been free. I should have expected that I could have been left at sea, after waking up the first time once the Grave Digger had kidnapped me.

I could still hear Booth's voice in my head. Don't give up, Bones. Keep fighting. I will find a way to get to you. His voice, his promise, was the only thing that was keeping me going at this point.

I pushed myself to stand. In the last two previous circumstances, the Grave Digger had given me something. A way to see if I could complete the challenge to escape imminent death. There was a possibility that out here, I would also find something that might secure my freedom.

I closed the hatch beneath me, determine to find the clue—find anything to get the hell of this death trap and back to the people I loved.

Then I heard the click. I felt the shift underneath my feet, like someone had just slid a raised platform for me to stand on.

I froze.

Reality set in.

There was no additional puzzle for me to solve.

There was no way for me to get off this barge. The Grave Digger saw to that the moment I stepped forward.

When my eyes looked down at the rest of the ship underneath me, it was my dear friend logic that confirmed what I already knew.

I had just stepped on an improvised Explosive Device (IED).


A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you again for taking the time out of your day to stop and read this story. I hope you are enjoying reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.