Chapter 7

Biderman's chart of coercion Step 5 - Devaluing the Individual. Creates fear of freedom and dependence upon captors, creates feelings of helplessness and develops lack of faith in individual capabilities. Abusive leaders are frequently uncannily able to pick out traits that their captives are proud of and to use those very traits against them. Unwillingness to allow captives to make use of their best traits undermines a captive's confidence and further entrenches the captive's reliance on the leader.

Hillary walked back into the byre and stared down at the bloody, bruised body on the floor. Ken hadn't moved much since Johnny and Damon had dumped him after the fateful telephone call. His once clean clothes were now grimy and covered in blood. Sweat stains covered the chest and back of his shirt and his formerly silky, flaxen hair was matted and turned dark gold, damp with sweat as he shivered uncontrollably.

The woman hardened her heart and entered the small stall, tapping at the inert body with the toe of her shoe. Ken uttered a low groan and his body twitched, but he made no attempt to sit up.

'I know you're not sleeping so quit the charade' Hillary said quietly.

Slowly one red rimmed crystal blue eye fluttered open and regarded her with a mixture of defiance and fear.

'What d'ya want with me? I told you he'd never pay. That's it, isn't it? He didn't give you the money'.

'Well you didn't exactly stick with the game plan did you?' she asked. '"don't give them the money Dad" wasn't exactly the script we had set out for you. Maybe if you'd stuck to the original lines you'd be outa here by now'.

Ken shuffled himself around until he could sit up a little with the stone wall at his back. In the past hour he'd had coughing fit after wracking coughing fit and had ended by spitting bright frothy red blood onto the floor. He knew his broken rib had punctured his lung. He could feel the jagged edges of the bone grating together when he breathed or moved. And he could also feel the telltale shortness of breath and dizziness. If he didn't get help real soon, he didn't like to think of the consequences.

'Listen to me' he panted, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle as he tried to hold his chest together. 'I know that even if you got the money, I've seen too much. You're gonna kill me anyways, so why not get it over with? Huh? Why not do it now and save us all some time?'

Hillary stared at him a slight grin on her face. 'So wonderfully brave! Quite the little hero aren't you blue eyes? So stoical. Be careful what you wish for, it might come true'.

'I should be so lucky. I wished for you to be gone, but you're still here' the blond grunted.

'Is that any way to talk to a lady?'

'When there's one around, I'll ask'. Ken tried to duck away as he saw the foot kicking out at him. He managed to deflect the blow from his chest the boot caught the tip of his elbow and he yelped.

'Did I say brave. I meant stupid' Hillary shouted. 'You're attitude needs some adjustment! But maybe if your Dad won't pay the money, we can still have some fun huh? How d'you think the great Dr Hutchinson would like to have a brainwashed boy back into the fold. With the right treatment we could have you plant a bomb, shoot him in his sleep. It's amazing what new drugs there are around to help these days'.

'Go to hell lady! There aint no drug on earth can make me do anything I don't want to' Ken yelled, his stomach turning somersaults at the thoughts of what the woman proposed. The shout set off another coughing fit and he bent, wrapping his arms around his chest to try to stop the horrible crepitus he felt there. The cough took away his breath and when it did stop and he looked up, Hillary could see fresh blood staining the blond's lips and setting up a jarring discord with his too pale face. She knew then that he'd never stand more of the treatment she had in store for him. He'd be dead before they had him at breaking point; at the point where he'd be open to any suggestion she cared to implant in his head. Either way, he was of no further use to them.

Swiftly she turned away and hurried from the byre. If he was going to die, it had better be now so that they had enough time to make a clean getaway. Hillary walked back to the big house and closed the door behind her. Damon looked up as she came into the kitchen and sat down heavily on the chair by the big square table.

'Where's Johnny?'

Damon grinned. 'Is it show time?'

'Uh huh. He's almost past caring anyway. Get packed up. By the time we're ready to get outa here, I want him and the cop both dead. Tell Johnny he can do what he wants, but it'll have to be quick'.

'Johnny boy won't like that. He don't like folks to rush his work. He's an artist. He takes pride in his work' Damon said, getting up from the table.

'I don't give a fuck what he is. I've hired him to do the dirty work. Now get to it'.

'Can I help him?' Damon asked. Hillary was reminded of a small dog sitting up and begging for its bone.

'You can do whatever you want so long as you're back here with a body count of two in the next hour. Now get Johnny and get outa here'.

The woman watched as the big man headed for the door with a face like a kid let loose in a candy store. She smiled an ugly kind of smile. It never failed to amaze her how easily her men were satisfied. Give them a small job like this and they'd be happy for days. Quickly she set about getting together her belongings and erasing her and their presence from the house she'd rented as a business let. They'd been lucky to find the place all set up as a veterinary hospital. Now the PACE members would have to find somewhere else to start over, but there were other Dr Hutchinsons out there ready to give her money for the right kind of persuasion.

oOo

Johnny and Damon eyed the injured young blond. Ken eyed them back, knowing their appearance did not bode well for him. He knew he knew too much to get out of this alive and although the thought terrified him, in a strange way he wanted to see his Mom and Dad one more time to tell them that he loved them and that he knew they loved him in their own stilted way. And he wished he could see his sister one more too also. She had been the one he had turned to when things got rough at home and she was the one who had managed to get out of Duluth and from beneath the clutches of her parents.

He was still half sitting where Hillary had left him, not half an hour ago. Movement was painful in the extreme and he'd managed to arrange himself into something half way towards comfort, ignoring the hard stony wall that dug into his back.

'What are you gonna do?' Ken asked. He remembered from his psychology classes at medical school that sometimes engaging with a person with a mental problem could help, and these two goons sure looked like they had some sort of problem. Maybe he could utilize some of the knowledge he'd garnered over the past two years.

OK Ken, go for it. Starts talkin'. Make 'em realise you're another human being – one that don't particularly want to wind up at the bottom of the lake.

'You don't wanna do this' he started. 'You don't wanna kill me. What's that gonna achieve huh? Dad wouldn't pay the money when I was alive. Is he gonna stump up if I'm dead? Just lemme….'

Johnny grinned at him and pulled the young man to his feet. Ken hissed in pain both from his rib and also the injury to his back. The other cuts and bruises like his broken finger were minor hurts in comparison. Ken tried to say something else, but the breath was crushed from his body as Johnny swung his ham like fist into his stomach. The breath whistled through Ken's teeth and he folded over, sagging to his knees, his arms wrapped around his chest. Another blow, this time a kick to his side which wrung a scream from him sent him sprawling onto the ground where Damon joined in the fun.

From then on, Ken's world folded in upon itself until each kick and fist fall merged agonizingly with the next. He lost count of the number of times he felt a boot or a hand connect with his body and he lost count of the times he screamed. Towards the end, when his sight had blurred and his head pounded with pain, he even took to begging the men to stop. Anything to defer from the next strike, and soon he wished death would take him as he felt more ribs snap and bones break under the never ending onslaught.

Johnny and Damon desisted only when there was no more noise coming from their human punchbag. The big man delivered one more vicious kick to Ken's back, then stood back, both men panting heavily with exertion as they looked at the bloody heap on the floor.

'Get him bagged. We'll take him down to the boat and get rid of him. If he's weighted down, there'll be no way they'll recognise him by the time he's washed ashore' Damon grunted. He produced a large, heavy sack and together the two proceeded to stuff Ken's broken and limp form into it, tying the neck of the sack closed with bailer twine. The took a hold and hauled their cargo out and into their waiting truck before heading down to the lake side.

A quarter of an hour later saw them on a small motor boat a hundred yards from shore with the sack in the bottom between the gunwales at their feet.

'You sure this is far enough out?' Damon asked. He looked at the shore which seemed some way away, but was still unconvinced.

'It'll have to do. We need the water to finish him off' Johnny grunted. In the last two minutes, the tied sack had started to twitch, showing that the beating hadn't quite finished off their victim.

'Damn but he's tough' Damon said. 'Ok we do it here then, no time to go further. We got that cop to find before we can clear outa here'.

Johnny grinned. 'Shit I aint had so much fun for months! We got no money, but a shedload of fun with those two. That's what I like. A twofer!'

Damon snickered. 'You're so damned easy to please'.

'Uh huh. A man of simple tastes'. He looked down at the struggling form at his feet. 'Shame we couldn't just have a little more time. I hate to be sloppy in my work'.

'The lake'll finish the job. Gimme a hand'.

Ken wondered where he was. His injured body was pretzelled into such a confined space. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe and couldn't find his way out of wherever he was. But he heard the men's voices although he couldn't make out what they were saying.

'Help me' he tried to yell, but his voice had no power and it came out as a weak and feeble sigh. He closed his eyes. So this was what it was like to die huh? Shit, he never thought it would be like this. He wanted to die in action, maybe saving someone's life from a robber or a murderer. Not like this. Strangely he wanted to laugh. Odd that afer all the arguments he'd had with his Dad about not having a career in medicine that something like this should make his wish come true. How was that for a curved ball?

He felt hands about him now and the sensation of being lifted and swung. The he felt himself flying through the air and as the first kiss off the icy cold water touch his skin he realised that drowning was not the way he'd have wished to die.