Chapter Two-Hundred and Forty-Seven
John coughed as he started to come to, his fingers tracing over the rough canvas of a cot. "Where…" He blinked, his vision clearing to see that Hans was sitting beside him. "Where… am I?"
Hans chuckled, picking up a rage soaked with ice-water. "You're still in Hell." He placed the rag on John's inflamed back, pressing down on the back of his neck as he screamed. "Shh… it'll stop in a minute." He picked up a needle, poking it into one of the puss-filled blisters on John's back. "God, Jacob's a monster." He sighed, flushing the infection out before he began to scrub the scabs from his back.
John sobbed in pain, his hands gripping the sides of the cot with white knuckles. "Hurts…" He whimpered, letting Hans cover his body with a thin sheet.
He nodded, offering John a glass of water. "Did you keep that pill?" He asked, remembering the night before when they'd been keeping an eye on the dinner party.
John shook his head, his eyelids growing heavy as his body tried to force him into a coma to avoid the pain. "I don't want to go to rehab again…"
Hans patted John on the arm, knowing that Jacob would be pissed if he came in to check on John and he was still asleep. "Is that an engagement ring?" He asked, touching the ring on John's finger.
John smiled, twisting the band around his finger. "My Sweets got it for me…" He coughed, his head aching with his hunger.
He touched John's sides, able to feel that he was dropping weight. "We've gotta convince Jacob to give you something to eat." He plopped into his chair, rubbing his temples as fear for John's health and life filled his mind. "You can't keep on like this. And if he's planning to send you into a kill or be killed… you won't survive."
John's breathing changed, the labored breath that always showed when a person had to puke. "Garbage-" He didn't get to finish, gagging as the yellow bile in his gut came up and slid off of his tongue. He retched over and over, each time causing more harm than good.
"Relax, I got Jacob to give you a few days to recover."
John hacked for a moment, his body exhausted from the endless pain. "What day is it?" He asked, having lost track since he was kept to mostly one room.
"December Eighteenth." Hans stated, noticing that John was starting to act antsy —Like he had to go to the bathroom. "You need a hand there?"
John nodded, letting the older man help him to the little bathroom. "Thank you…"
Clarissa pulled on some combat boots from Kaylie's closet, pulling on a bullet-proof vest before she bolted for the FBI van that would take her to the air port where Asher was waiting with his helicopter. "Let's go get my son back." She smiled, taking a pistol from one of the young SWAT members. "Thank you… but I won't need it." She moved to hand it back to him, jumping when he pushed it back to her.
"It's just for emergencies. One of our guys said that the kids are in a kill or be killed fighting ring." He nodded to the vest. "That only protects you so much, if things go to hell, those kids are gonna run straight for mom and dad —safety— you and Tom are gonna be target number one, if you don't have something to protect yourself with, you're all fucked."
Clarissa nodded, looking at the larger guns on the walls of the van. "AR-15." She nodded to the riffle, ready to kick ass to save her family. "I want to do everything I can to get my babies back."