Starlight Starbright

These good fellows don't belong to me but I promise when I'm done to pick um up, dust um off and with a kiss on the cheek return them safely home.

"Fear is an emotion indispensable for survival." Hannah Arendt.

Chapter 9

Johnny's mind reached for reality again to find a painful throb at the side of his head. Before even opening his eyes he tried to remember what had happened. He was going hiking. The tires were cut. Stranger's behind him. With a jolt he was awake and could hear voices around him.

"What we gonna do with him now?" The first one said, the voice was deep and husky.

"Hey, I think he's waking up Carl." The second voice was also an older voice, harsh in its words.

Johnny slowly opened his eyes to first find the glow of the fireplace. He quickly assessed that he was lying down on his side, his hands tied behind his back, his feet also bound together. Raising his head brought on a wave of nausea that made him grimace and squeeze his eyes shut to push the wave back down.

"You're not going anywhere," the voice came with a prompt impact to his ribcage with what he assumed was a boot. Even the cry out and groan seemed to anger the voice. "Oh quit whining. I'd like to know what you're doing here anyways. This place is always empty."

"So much for your great 'hide away' idea Carl," the second voice shot back.

"Will you shut up! You've already messed this whole thing up. It was supposed to be in and out but no you have to go waving a gun around like some kinda big shot," Carl yelled at the man.

Johnny just wanted them to both stop yelling, his head was pounding and he was working on getting his breathing back under control from the impact in his side. He ventured to open his eyes again and he could see 2 sets of heavy boots, one by the fireplace, the other walking towards the kitchen. Looking up the pants leg on the one closest to him he saw a bearded man, seemed to be in his mid 40's, light brown short hair. This must be the one called Carl; he was still talking to his friend. Darting his eyes without moving any body parts he found the other one, appeared about the same age, red hair, and mustache. Both men had guns tucked into their waist.

Assessing the situation Johnny knew he couldn't make a run for it, he couldn't even get up. His head was pounding, gun impact he surmised as he still fought back the nausea. Probably a concussion. The boot had found his left rib cage, a deep breath hurt but he was still able to breathe.

"Get him up," Carl told the other man.

Johnny felt himself being dragged to his feet. His vision was swimming as they jerked him over to the couch and forced him to sit down.

"Now who are you?" Carl demanded.

Johnny licked his lips, "John." He felt no reason to volunteer more than asked for at this point.

The limited information bought him a hard whack across the face with the back of Carl's hand.

"Don't be a smart ass, who are you and what are you doing here?"

"John Gage," he coughed out, now tasting the blood inside his mouth. "I'm just up here for a few days on vacation."

He looked over to see the second man dumping out his backpack, rummaging through it. Carl moved towards him and he found himself jerking backwards to avoid the next blow but that wasn't what Carl wanted. Pushing Johnny forward he reached into this back pocket for his wallet.

Damn, thought Johnny. Last thing I want is these two crazies knowing where I live.

Carl reached in and pulled out his ID's. First was his driver's license then a certification card. "Well lookey here Red, we got us a fireman from Los Angeles." Carl looked at Johnny with a big sick grin on his face. "Bet we could get good money for a missing fireman, huh?"

Red just shook his head with eager agreement.

Reading the card some more, "What's a Paramedic?"

Johnny was still a little stunned from them finding his wallet and didn't answer immediately. His slowness only made Carl mad again. Grabbing Johnny by the hair he jerked his head up. The pain shot through his head as Carl pulled on his scalp.

"What?" Johnny gasped out.

"I asked you a question fireman," Carl said, not letting go of his hair.

"I'm trained in emergency medical care," Johnny said through gritted teeth.

When Carl let go Johnny's head flew forward as the overwhelming pain was followed by a surge of nausea that wouldn't be stopped. Johnny leaned forward and threw up all over Carl's foot.

"ARGG!" Carl jumped backwards then looked at Johnny, ready to just kill him right there. He lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm, snatching him to his wobbly legs. Taking his leg he caught Johnny right behind the knees sending him face first to the ground. Once down Johnny was again assaulted by the man's boot in the left flank and rib cage.

"Carl, now quit. You can't get anything for a dead fireman!" Red said as he pulled Carl off his ongoing assault on the dark headed man.

Johnny cried out with the beating but the men's words faded again as he drifted into the peaceful world of unconsciousness.

The next time he woke up he was lying in the bed, still tied down on his side. Opening his eyes he could feel the swelling on the side of his face and his left eye. He winced and drew in a short breath at the pain in his side. That last kick got a couple of ribs, he was sure of that. Facing the door he could see it was open. The bedroom was cold and he shivered which only sent another sharp pain through his body and head. He quickly scanned the room before him and found that both men were sitting at the table. What were their names again? Carl and Red. They were upset he was here. Something about a hideaway place. Criminals. But not sure what they had done. As his vision cleared some more he could see they had something all over the table. He couldn't tell what it was until Carl got up and moved to the side some. The table was covered in money.

As the realization came over him that he was now in the hands of bank robbers Johnny fought back the fear that he might not get out of this alive. He had to quiet his mind and focus his energy.

He lay quietly trying to hear what they were saying but all he could catch were whispers. Then he stilled his own breath, shallow and quiet as he listened again. He could hear something else. It was breathing he could here. Then as his brain tried to locate the sound he realized that it was coming from behind him.