Chapter 22

Parson Farm
Grindstone Island
St. Laurence River

October 2011

Willow's birthday finally came. It didn't seem a birthday without a gift, so Spencer had a surprise waiting for her when they arrived at the schoolhouse. "What is it?" Willow asked as she untied the string.

Spencer smiled. Paper was precious on the island, notebooks more so. But he'd come up with enough, then worked with Carpenter and Tanner to make it up into a neat little book. "I wrote down everything I could remember about home." He said. "All the tales and the legends and all the stories I told you back then. Some poetry and some drawings. Just some things I thought you would enjoy having with you at night."

"Oh! Oh I will! This is wonderful! Thank you!" She grinned and looped her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly.

"So now what happens?" He asked. "How do people celebrate birthdays here?"

"We don't." She replied, "Except for the big ones. At seven boys cross the fence, at fourteen you apprentice to someone and at twenty-one you become an adult. Housekeeper said she would tell me what that meant after dinner."

So there was nothing. No good to balance out what he suspected would be very bad. "Before you go to the barn."

She nodded quietly. "I'm scared." She said quietly. "I admit it."

"I'm here for you." He replied. "I can't go in your place; I would if I could..."

"I know."

"Just keep thinking about school tomorrow, how we'll be back here no matter what. I'll be waiting."

"I'll remember that."

He told her that again on the way back that evening, to focus on the next day and how he was there and would be waiting and just keep breathing and she would get through it, whatever it was. They delayed as long as they could but eventually they had to part so they could go to their respective dining halls for dinner. As usual he sat with Foreman and Smitty, listened as they took care of whatever business there was, joined in when he thought he knew something that could help. When one of the women in the kitchen rang a pot to signal last call on the dishes they turned in their mugs and headed off to bed. Spencer sat on his and pulled out a book, intending to make a few notes for tomorrow while the men being called out did what they needed to do, while Player settled at the piano and played his soft, sad tune. As happened every night, one of the Overseers came to the door and started calling numbers.

And then it happened. "...9744..." The Overseer called.

Spencer looked up in confusion. Surely they did not mean to call him.

"Qué chingados," Foreman said quietly.

"9744. Move your ass." The overseer said without heat.

Spencer looked over at Foreman, who shrugged and nodded for him to go. "Don't ask questions or argue. " He said quietly. "Just do what they tell you. Do what they tell you."

That last was firm enough to be a direct order. Spencer nodded and went and got in line with the others. His heart was pounding in a way it hadn't since their last case, since the last time there was an Unsub and he held a gun in his hands. He heard the piano then, a soft counter note to the rush of adrenaline in his veins, soothing and distracting and reassuring all at once.

"Come on." The Overseer led the line of men out of the bunkhouse and away from the dining hall, to a door Spencer had wondered about but had never been down. It led to a hallway open at the far end, which led to another walkway. "Against the wall," the Overseer said, and Spencer followed as they all put their backs to it and stayed there.

Then JD arrived. He was carrying a large pharmaceutical bottle. Behind him came his other assistant, carrying water and a cup. JD went down the row, handing each man a pill, which each man swallowed with the help of the water. JD stopped and waited for Spencer to put out his hand, which he did out of curiosity if nothing else. But in the light it was impossible to tell. "Take it." JD said, "Take it or I will ram it down your throat."

Do what they tell you, Foreman said. Spencer took a deep breath and took the pill.

After that they were left to stand there for a while. No one said anything; they stood there with their backs to the wall, each man lost in his own thoughts. Spencer wanted to ask what they were waiting for, but his best analysis was that they were waiting for the pill to work. So he waited to see what would happen

At first he felt himself getting a little queasy. Not much, like a mild bit of motion sickness. Just that little bit, not helped at all by the fear curling in his belly.

Then he noticed that he was getting a little dizzy. Not horribly, but if he turned too fast he suspected the world would spin.

Then he realized that his nose was stuffing up. And he wasn't the only one, most of the men produced handkerchiefs and were wiping and sniffing by then.

By the time he realized that his penis was starting to feel awfully strange JD and the others came back. "Come on, boys."

He followed along the line of men to a building he hadn't seen before. It was low, cinderblock, with a metal roof. The door led into a small unlit foyer that smelled of damp and disinfectant. You turned left as you walked in, and saw the opening on the right up ahead which led to a lit room. "8563..." JD said as his assistant checked a clipboard.

One by one the men were called in to that other room. Spencer waited his turn, but when it came JD called the man behind him. One by one the rest were called until Spencer was the only one left. "9744." JD said. "Come on college boy." Spencer followed his gesture and looked into the room. There was a clear path on the left, on the right were what looked like horse stalls, each man had been placed in one, their heads showing above the partitions. They were each facing the right wall, their minds turned inward, their eyes dead, their faces turned to masks. "Down there in the center." JD pointed to the stall directly under the unshielded electric light, one that left nowhere to hide.

Spencer stepped into the stall and instantly remembered where he was. These were Unsubs. And when dealing with Unsubs anything could happen.

She couldn't reach, he realized. They fastened down her wrists on the far side of that concrete bench. But she was too small to fit all the way over, so her feet did not touch the floor. She must be cold, he thought, that must be her nightgown. With her head covered she can't see me.

JD poked him in the back with his night stick. He turned and found the three of them clustered at the opening to the stall, blocking any hope he had of bolting. "Get going, college boy." JD said. "Unless you can't 'cause you don't like girls." No, Spencer realized, he could. The sounds coming from the other stalls, the grunts and soft cries, and the pheromones growing thicker in the air by the minute and the drug in his system were all working together to make it entirely physically possible, much to his shame. "'Cause if you don't the three of us will have to and you know," JD reached down and fisted the massive bulge in his pants. "She might need the nurses after."

Hotch, he thought, Morgan, Emily. Somebody, anybody. Help.

But there was no help.

There was no magic.

There was no choice.