"Thinking will not overcome fear but action will." - W. Clement Stone
When Kyle first came to, he realized that not only was he away from home. But after remembering with a jolt the man that had attacked him, Kyle was later struck with the sickening realization that he was tied up in the trunk of a moving vehicle. Every pot hole had Kyle closer and closer to smashing his head off of the metal roofing.
All he could do was wait, which proved a lot less longer than he first thought. Perhaps he had been out of it for a while?
Soon enough the car came to a rolling stop, and following a door was opened and closed. Light filled Kyle's nook completely as his little cell was opened up by a bit of metal. After the blinding light scorched Kyle's eyes, he noticed the scent of sand and seaweed.
Abruptly he was yanked up, nearly bashing his head on his way out. This time he was held captive by two men, cleaner, but smaller than the original. They seemed more professional.
Kyle wet his lips, thankful to have no gag. Then he pondered that, why would they leave him without one? He glanced around.
There was a small clearing reserved for their cars, the path that led to the road was gravel and well hidden by old and tangled trees. Pushed and prodded until he rightened himself and followed the lead of the man in front, also careful of the other that closely followed him from behind.
As they walked down a trail, which was painful work for Kyle. They left him without shoes, so the stones that jutted from the dirt pierced the soft and pale flesh of his feet. About ten minutes later he found the trees peeling open once again to reveal another form of civilization.
It was a rather squashed building, if it could be considered that. It was made from wood that was beginning to rot, that oddly managed to appear both sturdy and on the verge of collapse at the same time. From the well used nets hung from the side, and the docks behind it, it was obvious that this was a fisherman's shack. Attached to it was a garage of sorts for the boats, with a metal roof that had rust along its edges.
Going off of the chill that wafted from the churning water, and spraying froth that stung your cheeks, the whole place was the perfect postcard for abandoned buildings.
Kyle craned his neck, eyes squinting at the tops of the trees that disappeared into a blanket of fog. No one could hear him scream from here, a place where not even seagulls scavenged. That's why they had left out a bit of cloth, there was no point.
A lump wound itself into the back of his throat, and he tried his darnedest to ignore it as he was ushered into the shack.
Kenny didn't bother with glancing to the side, he knew what Eric looked like. They both were the same right now, a pale and shitty reflection of themselves.
Unconsciously his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, testifying the emotions that boiled within.
"This whole thing is stupid." Kenny mumbled under his breath, making another left turn.
"Tell me about it." Eric grunted, uncaring if the person on the other end of his phone call heard. A second later he sighed, "No, I wasn't talking to you. Forget it. Who was there?"
The blonde shifted his weight in the seat, straining his ears to learn anymore information about Kyle's disappearance.
"Who?" Eric paused as the person responded, "I have no idea who that fucking is...Nah, doesn't ring a bell. Whatever, just round him up." Angrily he ended the conversation by hanging up, tossing his expensive cell onto the dashboard without a care.
Kenny spared him a glance, eyeing the disgruntled expression on the other. It almost made you believe that Eric was concerned about the well-being of Kyle, which was a worrisome thought.
"So tell me again, why are we going to your house? Shouldn't we be going to the police or something?"
Eric scrubbed at the side of his face, "Because Haley will be there. And besides, this isn't a police matter. Keep going straight."
The trees on either side of them thickened, creating the effect of being increasingly isolated.
"Why would she go to your house? She just had your boy toy snatched away. And last time I checked, you hate when people take your things. Why show somewhere you could get nuclear?"
Eric scoffed, "Because she doesn't know I know. And besides, now that she believes that Kyle is out of the picture she'll focus completely on me. And remember, I just got discharged from the hospital. She'll want me somewhere alone so she can nurse my fragile state of mind from that traumatic experience."
Just then the road turned into gravel, leading up to massive spiked iron gates.
"I thought you'd live in some penthouse in the middle of the capital?"
Eric shrugged, "I have several. This however will be for Haley, the perfect place for us to rekindle our relationship."
"I smell bullshit."
"Exactly." He clasped the door handle, "I'll be fine to walk from here. You have more important things to do."
"Are you sure?" Kenny called out over the beeping sound of the door being opened, watching as Eric unbuckle his seat belt and climb out. He leaned down, just enough so they could share the same eye level.
"Yeah, she won't hurt me there."
"But will you hurt her?"
Eric ran his fingers through his hair, eyes turning dull as he stared at the manor in the distance.
"That's inevitable. Now stop fucking around with your dick, you got places to be." Eric slammed the door shut and patted the roof of the car. Careful to step back as the other backed out of the drive way, and drove off. Leaving with an ear splitting honk.
Eric sighed once more, facing the gate with distaste.
The inside of the shack wasn't very impressive, and was barely furnished at all. On the furthest side from the door was a table, with one leg shorter than the rest. Someone had shoved a book under it, making sure that you could semi use it. A third man sat at one of the two chairs by the table, fiddling with a dingy radio that weakly buzzed music as the unnamed man avoided layers of static.
By the door there was a pair of boots with holes in them, a fishing rod, tackle box, and a cooler. As soon as they entered the shack, the one that led their party waited for Kyle to be ushered in and the door locked, before he lifted the cooler over to the table and unlatched it. Inside there was ice to chill the bottles of beer, a tiny box that smelt of worms, and some sandwiches.
Pushed into a corner, Kyle slid to the floor, warily darting his eyes to each of the men.
"...So, know any good card games?" He asked, anxious to fill the silence. No one rose to answer the question, but Kyle was almost certain that the man with the radio rose a brow.
"...Goldfish anyone?"
He continued the rest of his survey, limited with the lackluster responses he received. The floor might have been waxed a life time ago, but now there was no finish, and it was ashy from the constant mud brought in by boots. Also there was a poster hung above the table, a photo of a naked model. Obviously ripped out from a porn magazine.
"Very classy." Kyle mumbled under his breath, nodding as Ms. June perched with a pool noodle that could not be classified as clothing, no matter how hard she tried in the photo.
He leaned against his wall, making himself as comfortable as he could. Within the silence of the shack, besides the fragments of music hindered by static, the steady and automatic breathing of a person, and the crash of waves against rocks, Eric's voice ran out in Kyle's head.
...this thing you're pursuing is bigger than you. And you know it. For your own safety, I'd accept the money like everyone else has in your precious union. If not...
Whether he liked to admit it, Eric was right. Something that was apparently happening recently on a recurring basis. Maybe Eric had been trying to warn him after all. If he ever got out of this...Kyle wasn't sure if he would kiss the air out of Eric's lungs, or punch him for putting him in this position. But either way, that didn't excuse him from ripping families away from their benefits and well earned pay checks.
Kyle shook his head, unknowingly catching the eye of the other men.
But regardless, after this he was going to have a fresh start. A brand new lease on life, which meant appreciating it more. That'd be the second step, the first would be getting drunk to forget this nightmare, erase it from his memory. And if he managed to slur out an apology or two, maybe Kyle could get Eric to forgive him. To not only loosen up, but to loosen his pants and morals as well.
Startled by a tightness, Kyle glanced around him. What the fuck...This wasn't exactly the best place to be having a boner. And envisioning potential fantasies weren't helping, and neither was the still too crystal clear memories he had.
As painful as it was, he crossed his legs. Trying to shift so some shadows covered up the crease along his groin, Kyle couldn't help but wish for someone to rescue him soon. He'd settle for Eric, or Stan. Even if he brought self righteous Wendy.
Anything would be better than this. Anything...