CHAPTER 3: SIX FEET UNDER
It was night.
Well…Greg couldn't be too sure of that. All he knew was darkness. His eyes were closed, and he saw darkness, but when they opened, it was still dark. He had just woken up, and his head no longer ailed him…too much. What was hurting him now was the fact that he was still trapped by six walls. And whatever he lay on felt smooth, and made his skin stick when it rubbed against it. His neck was sore too.
He could hardly breath. Wherever he was, it was sickly warm, and he was sweating profusely. The heat was also making his nauseous stomach worse. And the air, thick like a humid summer day, made it hard for him to breath. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic, because he would be freaking out by now.
Not that he wasn't scared, but what could he do?
He started to squirm again. He kicked out again and again against the walls, and he flailed his arms. He had to stop when he figured out that it was glass he was trapped in, and that it wasn't going to break anything but his bones. He panted from the effort, and he started to feel about with his hands, but nothing was there except six glass walls.
He couldn't even remember how the hell he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was…feelings. Excitement, nervousness, and that indescribable feeling he got when he talked with Sara. That was his favourite feeling. But now Sara was pushed to the back of his mind for once in his life as he fought to remember.
"Hello?" He called out, quietly at first, but then he screamed it at the top of his lungs. "Hello! Someone help me!"
Out of the blue, Greg's eyes were blinded momentarily by a ray of light. He squinted against it briefly, and then he saw what surrounded him outside his little glass box and it sent him into a fit of panic. Dirt. Lots of dirt, pebbles, roots…
He was underground.
"Someone help me!" He screamed as he started to struggle again. He kicked and punched and wriggled whatever way he could, trying and hoping that somehow it would get him out of this hellhole. "Help me! Someone get me out!"
His stress reached a maximum, and he was left panting, sweating and shivering, and whimpering in fear. He took huge breathes of the thick air, and calmed himself as much as he could. He could still see his surroundings; the light that had appeared from above had not disappeared.
"Who's up there?" Greg asked to nothing, having nothing else to try.
"Poor little Greg, lost and scared, six feet under the ground." The voice. He recognized that voice. He had heard it before. At a case…the scene? "My first solo case!" And then everything came back to him in a flash of light and memory. His excitement, his date with Sara, his determination to make sure everything went well, his fear for his life, and the pain he felt.
His mind was reeling. "Cammy?" He coughed, the fear inside him making his lungs feel empty, yet near bursting. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself down. "Is that you?"
He heard a brusque laugh from above him, faint from the ground that separated them, but he could feel the cold air rush in to meet him from the opening above. It was refreshing, and he relished in it.
"No. It's not Cammy, I thought you'd figured that out the last time we had a chat. And you hurt Cal's feelings, not remembering him."
Greg emitted a low growl. "Right. Chameleon. It was a pseudo name. And Cal Echo? That was a pseudo name too, right?"
"Well…" He heard her taunting tone above him, and it made him frustrated. "Kind of. Cal is his first name." She giggled like a schoolgirl. "But come on Gregsy, can't we just talk?"
"If you'll let me out, I'm all for talking." Greg said, just trying to make her keep the only portal to the outside world opened.
"You know I can't do that. Cal would get mad. And besides, you'd probably run off with another woman like you did the last time."
Greg was not just frustrated now, but full out bewildered. Just who was the person behind this crime? "Run off with another woman?" He asked her, "You act like we were dating…"
"We are, you son of a bitch!" She screamed all of a sudden, with passion that made Greg jump in his small pen.
"Wait, what?" Greg said, panicking and trying to fix whatever had set her off. "I didn't mean it…"
He heard soft crying above him. "I'm going to walk away now, and give you some time to think. When I come back, I expect you to remember everything, and to say you're sorry."
"Wait…" Greg said, as he heard shuffling above her. Then, with wide eyes he saw the light fading from his enclosure, and the cool air from the world above being shunted. "NO! Wait!" He yelled, but she had already closed the little pipe leading to him. He was lost in the darkness and recycled air.
Greg sobbed a few times, but managed to not break down completely. He had to think. That was what he had to do to get out of this mess alive. Think. And it hit him easily enough. He had to stay alive until someone found him, or until he could talk her in to letting him out so he could escape. That would mean Greg had to stop suffering from foot-in-mouth disease and play it cool.
Sara.
Sara now popped into his minds eye, bringing a slight smile to his face even in his current situation. He had to stay alive for her. She would be his motivation. And, with her in his mind, he started to think of a plan.
"Okay guys, what do we have?" Grissom rubbed his eyes wearily as his team of CSI's, Brass and Sofia gathered with their combined knowledge. "We know what the stats are. Usually when a person is missing for more than 48 hours, they're dead. So that means that for the next 48 hours, our only priority is finding Greg. So lets hear it."
Brass started. "Sanders called me about noon, and told me that something was up. I had asked officer Rawst to go there and secure the scene for Greg, because I could trust him. However, Greg said a rookie was there and that he seemed shady."
"Did he say what the officers name was?" Sara asked. She was still quite pale, but she seemed to be holding her own.
"Yeah, Said his name was Cal Echo." Grissom gave a large sigh. "What's wrong?"
"Cal Echo, as in calico."
Brass looked at him oddly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Animals with calico colours are camouflaged from things, such as Cracker Butterflies. Their wings have the pattern of an owl, and scares or wards other predators away. In other words…"
"It's a taunting fake." Sara finished. "Damn it, he didn't realize until too late."
"What did we find at the scene?" Grissom said, hoping to God for good news.
"Well…" Nick started, clearing his throat, "I looked at the bodies of both Officer Rawst and the store owner, ID as Mr. Kevin Cooper. Both were dragged there from inside the store, and dumped into a ditch in the back of the store lot. Never got much off them. Both died from extensive stab wounds to the major arteries. They bled out somewhere else though."
"That would be inside the bathroom of the station," Warrick said, showing his findings. "Bathroom sustained very little damage from the fire, which was set in the main area. We collected a lot of prints, hairs, and lots if stuff…all of it in blood. Bathroom walls, floor and ceiling were covered in blood belonging to both vics. Someone didn't clean up after themselves. Bad news here though. Three prints were there, two were unknown, and one was Greg's."
"Greg wouldn't do something so rookie unless he was pushed into the blood." Sara said.
"Yeah. Also, there were his footprints in the blood along with two others, came back to a heel shoe and a size twelve Adidas sneaker. Here's what the prints tell us:
"Greg was kneeling near the blood pool, about to start collection, when he stepped into the blood…here." He pointed to a picture as he explained his theory. "Then, he backed up, and it seems like these heels were coming at him slowly, and then running. The stop here, and then, Greg pushed them over here, near a stall, shown by the sliding pattern. Then, it seems like the size 12 sneaker had climbed in through the window and hid in the stall…here. The sneaker came behind Greg and caused him to fall here, where his prints are."
"Probably a blow to the head." Grissom said quietly.
"And then, Greg seems to struggle here." Warrick said, pointing to lots of smudges on the floor. "Then, the heel print walks over to here, near the stall, and then walks over to Greg, really close too."
"How close is that?" Sara asked.
"If they weren't touching, they were damn close to it." Warrick said, making Sara's blood boil. "Then, There's a round impression here, and backwards hands prints."
Sara got an amused look. "He fought back, and he made her fall."
"Yeah, I'd say. Then, there are two round impressions here, probably Adidas' knee prints, and then Greg's footprints, leading into the burned part of the store. From the spaces, it looks like he was running."
"He managed to run away?" Sara said, hopes rising in her heart. "He fought so hard, so brave..." "Did he manage to escape?"
Grissom's face fell. "I know that one." He took out pictures of his own, of bloody prints and vomit in the desert sands. "This…" He said sullenly, "All matched Greg's. And some of the blood there matched his own, but only a trickle."
Sara looked at it, her heart plummeting as fast as it had risen. "Then, he was probably drugged?" Catherine said, looking forlornly at the pictures.
The air was dense with dread as the implications set in. Greg was putty in their hands if he was drugged. If, that is, he was still alive.
But no one would dare to think like that. Especially Sara.
"Umm," Warrick began again, "Then, we see the same two unknown prints come out of the store, and pick up Greg, and carry him to another vehicle. Then, the prints go all over the place, and some are mixed with kerosene, and then they go back to the car and drive off. I have the tire treads here." He said, showing Grissom. "They belong to a Sunfire."
"Good." Grissom said. "It's not much, but it's something."
"Griss, we need more to go on!" Sara said, leaning on the table. "There's no way we can find him with just a car tread to go on. We don't even know where they went!"
"Sara, calm down." He said, rubbing his eyes as his head started throbbing.
"No Grissom, I will not calm down!" Sara said, her composure deteriorating. "Greg is out there, and he's going through God knows what, and I feel so God damn helpless!"
Grissom sighed. He did not need his CSI's breaking down in front of him, adding to the troubles. "I understand Sara, but you need to calm down before you can do anything to help. Nick, take her to the break room, and get her calmed down?"
Nick looked between him and Sara, and quickly nodded. "Sure. I'll be right back." The team nodded, and he led Sara from the crowded layout room.
Once inside the break room, and coffee's in hand, Sara's resolve to not speak broke. "Nick, it's not fair! We should be out there with the search parties, or doing something more to help Greg!"
Nick turned on her suddenly, her face exploding with inexplicable emotion. Mixtures of rage, frustration, fear. "No one is giving up Sara! And we can only do what we do best! It may not feel like a lot, but we're doing our part!" He breathed in large gulps of air, and then said, in a much calmer tone. "I understand your frustration Sara, I feel it too. But we are helping him in our own special way. We'll find him, don't worry. Now," He said, walking out of the room again, "You coming?"
Sara shook her head, much to Nick's surprise. "I'm not ready. I need to…think things out more, so I can help."
Nick nodded to her. "Okay honey. You know where to find us if you need us."
"Yeah." She said, giving a smile of appreciation. "Thanks Nick, I needed this."
Nick nodded as he headed out the door, leaving Sara alone with her thoughts in turmoil. As soon as she knew she was alone, she let a single tear roll down her cheeks. How could this have happened? She should have told him sooner, that she liked him. "I should have done a million things," She thought bitterly, "But I didn't. And now it may be too late." She knew it wasn't too late yet. She kenw that her heart would shatter into a million pieces that would never fit together again if he were gone.
Call it women's intuition, call it a bond of very close friendship, but she knew deep down that he wasn't gone yet.
And she would have to be the one to find him.
"No miss, you can't go in there!" Was that Judy Tremont, the secretary, Sara heard?
"You listen to me! Let me in or I will claw your eyes out!" Screeched a woman from the reception area.
Sara jumped up and ran towards the reception area, and was met by a sight of complete awe. She looked over the scene and she was sure her jaw dropped.
An older, blonder, female version of Greg Sanders was battling it out with Judy and another tech to get into the lab. "Stop, stop it!" Sara said, as she jogged over to them. She placed a hand around the Greg doppelganger and dragged her into the break room direction. "Don't worry Judy, I'll take care of her." Judy wasn't about to argue, and left Sara to what she wanted.
Sara led the woman, who had suddenly turned silent, and brought her into the break room. She sat her down, and rushed to make her coffee as if she were a guest at her house she were trying to impress. She brought the cup to the woman, and Sara sat down across form her.
The next few moments were agony, as the woman bore holes into Sara, sizing her up like a slab of meat or a head of lettuce at the supermarket. It made Sara appallingly self-conscious, and she constantly found things she had to fix, like her shirt or jeans.
But it was the woman who started. Her accent Sara could only identify as Norwegian. "You are Sara Sidle, right?" Sara nodded, at a loss for words. "I need to speak with you, about my son, Gregory. I'm Lillian Sanders…"