Ch4

The house felt empty. Phoebe slept alone two nights and not a sign of life around her. Lying in bed alone didn't atone to Phoebe's mindset. With the world she lived in, the chaos around her, nothing to compare to the thought that her love, the one she'd always be loyal to, the one who cared and stayed with her through thick and thin, was out there, without a heartbeat. She had nightmares of Gerald walking towards her, green skin, scarred tissue on his forehead, grunting with decaying teeth, an arm missing and brownish pus gushing out of his teeth-

Phoebe jolted from the bed, breathing heavily, both arms holding up her posture. She looked left and right, the cracked window poured cold air into the bedroom. She clutched the sheets tightly and pulled them up to her legs. She then brought her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Just then there was a knock on the door, "Who is it." Phoebe choked.

The door opened and Harold popped his head in, "Phoebe? I heard your scream, everything okay?" He asked

"I'm fine Harold. Thank you though for asking."

"Had a nightmare huh?" Harold asked. Phoebe nodded, her lip still twitching.

"I get it, I've had a few rough nights myself." Harold responded. The two stood in silence, "They'll be back. I know it. Gerald and Arnold have never let each other down." Harold then said, "Get some more rest okay?" He suggested.

"Thank you Harold. Really, I mean it." Phoebe said. Harold smiled and nodded his head. He scooted out and closed the door. Phoebe turned towards the window, the curtains fluttered, and the wind howled in a low pitch. Phoebe tucked herself back under the sheets and stretched out her legs. She set her head to the pillow and looked straight up at the ceiling. The wind continued to howl, disturbing Phoebe every time her eyes began to droop. After a few moments, Phoebe decided to get up. She stood there in a large blue shirt dangling down over her waist and knees and then walked over to the window. She grasped the frame with her hands and began to push it down, sealing up the window. Just then, she caught site of something out in the distance.

Standing in the backyard of the neighboring house was a black figure, it looked dead, but standing there, staring directly at the house; it made no movements except the occasional swaying left to right. Phoebe shook the image from her head and returned to bed, this time, wrapping the blanket over her entire body, and curling up in a ball as she began to sleep again.

(At the trailer park, 15 miles out of Branford)

The wind consistently kicked up dust which blew across the terrain. Dead trees creaked and bent with movement. Bits of trash danced around the various trailers. Arnold had his head drooping from his neck as he slept, his hands bruised from the cuffs that tied him to the spigot he was leaning against. Even with such an uncomfortable position, Arnold was in slumber. Until a clouded wad of dust blew right into his face. As he breathed it in, the dust stuck to his throat, drying it instantly and provoking him to cough. Arnold continued to spit the dust out of his mouth and wiped the tears and blood on his cheek onto his shirt. He looked up in front of him and saw Gerald, about ten feet away from him, tied to a telephone pole. His red shirt had darker red stains all over the chest, and his shoe was partially torn. They had been captives for at least a day now.

Just then, Arnold heard footsteps to his right, he looked over and saw Brig walking up to Gerald. Arnold tucked his feet in closer out of fear. Brig knelt down, undid Gerald's bindings and stood him up. Gerald was so unconscious he could hardly stand on his own.

"Gerald! What are you doing to him this time?" Arnold asked, panicked. Brig looked back.

"Shut up, Sid wants to talk to him again." Arnold began to kick his feet.

"If you hurt him again, you're dead! You hear me?!" Arnold screamed. Behind him, someone else spoke.

"Short man, would you relax? We're not gonna give him the lemon juice this time. But I'm pretty sure Brig's got some ideas with his razorblade." Chet said with a loud chuckle. Arnold felt him set something down, something heavy, like a body. He felt rope stroking across his fingers and realized Chet was tying something else to the spigot.

"What're, what're you doing?" Arnold asked, out of breath.

"Giving you some company. We need the cage for actual animals, not dumbasses like yourself or this punk here." Chet said.

He felt Chet give one final pull on the restraints of his new 'prison mate' then watched as he walked away. Arnold stretched his hands, still tied but attempted to relax them. Within the boundaries of the rope that restrained his wrists, Arnold began to feel around behind him. Once he found a hand, he grasped it by the index finger and squeezed it.

Elsewhere in the camp, Brig had brought Gerald to Sid's trailer. He struggled to drag Gerald up the steps. But eventually they got to the door. Brig busted it open and dragged Gerald inside. He brought him to a couch that set against the inner wall. He threw Gerald down and hollered deeper into the trailer.

"Sid! Got your friend here!"

"Thanks Brig. That'll be it for you." Sid responded. Brig turned around, looking back at Gerald one last time. Gerald's head was just hanging by the neck. His energy completely burned out from the torture. Brig leaned down, winded his hand backward, and gave Gerald a good swat right across the face to wake him up. Gerald jolted out of shock and pain.

Brig could only laugh. Just then, Sid came out, "God dammit Brig, I said that'll be it!" He yelled. Brig stopped laughing and just stormed out of the trailer. Sid pulled up a chair and sat across from Gerald's limp body.

He leaned over and shook Gerald by the knee, "Come on Gerald, wake up. You okay?" Gerald could only mumble for a bit, "Gerald, we need to talk again. Sorry for what they've done to you. You weren't coming to your senses so we had to do something now right? Trust me, if I wasn't around, those two would've killed you by now."

Silence. Sid leaned back again, "Okay, now. You should know why I want to talk to you again? So how about it? You take us to your house, you give us everything you own, and we'll leave you one vehicle. That's the offer on the table. You walk away with your lives, and Helga and Chocolate Boy are yours too."

Gerald mustered up as much strength as he could to lift his head, he looked straight at Sid's eyes, with his own two, one with a red mark on the eyelid, and the other bloodshot.

"You're such an idiot." Gerald murmured. Sid looked at him disappointingly.

"Well." He said, leaning back in again, "Maybe we can fix that." Sid said, smiling.

Back outside, Arnold continued to grasp Helga's finger, he stretched even further to grab her whole hand. But upon realizing how small of a hand it was, he figured out it wasn't Helga behind him, it was Charlie. The hand began to move.

Charlie grunted in pain, his eyes slowly started to open, "Come on Charlie. Wake up." Arnold said. Charlie began to shake himself to consciousness.

"Arnold?" He uttered.

"Yeah Charlie. It's me." Charlie began to struggle with his restraints.

"How-How'd you get here? How'd they find you?" Charlie asked.

Arnold replied, "I don't know, we went out to find you, and next thing we know, Gerald's taking a bullet to the leg and we're both knocked unconscious. Are you hurt? What'd they do to you?"

"A good beating, that's about it." Charlie said.

"What about your captor. The one that took you."

Charlie looked straight ahead in response and then turned in Arnold's direction, "How do you know about that?"

"Don't lie Charlie, we saw the footsteps leading from the house, there were two pairs. Tell me, who was it that took you?" Arnold asked again, sternly this time.

Charlie sighed then said, "Arnold, I don't know if you'll be able to handle it."

"Just tell me Charlie. I don't care how shocking it can be, I just want to know who it is that's crazy enough to take you away from your only hope for survival."

"It was Helga, Arnold." Charlie said. Silence, "Helga broke in and snatched me up."

Arnold looked downward in somber, confused as all hell.

"Why?" was all Arnold could ask.

"When we left the house, she said she's been watching us. Seeing that you had locked me up. She couldn't take it and decided to break me out. Said she knew where we could go for safety. I kept trying to convince her everything was fine. You were just cautious of me.." Charlie trailed off.

"No Charlie, it was wrong. I didn't want to lock you up, and I guarantee you, Gerald didn't either. It was just survival instinct I guess."

"Helga didn't want to listen to any of it. I was locked up out of cruelty in her mind and that was it. Couldn't convince her any other way." Charlie responded.

"Well is she here? She okay?" Arnold asked.

"We were both thrown in a cage when those creeps grabbed us. They wanted to know where we came from. Where the house was. I couldn't tell them, for your sake, for the sake of everybody else there. The hits didn't stop till I was numb…" Charlie murmured.

Arnold clutched Charlie's hand, "Don't worry Charlie, we're gonna get out of here. Helga and Gerald are gonna be fine, soon we'll all be back in our warm comfy house with all the others. What about Helga? They didn't touch her did they?" Arnold said, minor anger in his voice.

"Arnold… that's what's bothering me."

"What? Tell me Charlie, what did they do?" Arnold said, more angry.

"I think… I think they touched her." Charlie mumbled. Arnold twitched, his body warm with hatred.

(Meanwhile, at FTi Station Kappa)

Miles slumped in his cell, laying on his back, arm draped over his eyes and the other hanging from the edge of his cot. The moon shun light through the grating in the top corner of the cell wall. Just then, a door opened from outside the cell, and Victor, the man in black, walked up to his cell.

"Miles? Are you awake?" He asked. Miles barely moved. As he began to shuffle around in his cot, Victor said, "Time to start planning."

Victor stood there, towering over Miles in the cell, a peach colored folded piece of paper was in his hand. He lightly tapped the cell bar. The noise reverberated in Miles' ear and woke him up. He rotated his body to see Victor at his cell door. He stood up and walked up to him.

"Now that you've told me what I need to know. It's time we get our 'candidates' rounded up don't you think?"

Miles just stood there, a blank stare on his face, his lips in a drooped frown.

"Never mind then. Our plane will be arriving in about five days. After refueling and getting the equipment on board, we'll be ready to go twelve hours from the end of the five day period. Got it? All I need from you is the exact coordinates where your original dig was set up."

With that, Victor held up the folded piece of paper, he un folded it, revealing a much larger paper with numbers and colored shapes all around it. Miles just stood there, staring at it for a second. He could hardly believe what it was he was looking at, or the fact that his son was just another variable in this chaotic mess caused by his once true friend turned enemy.

"Maybe with a little more rest and some time you'll come to your senses." Victor said as he folded up the paper, handing it to Miles through the bar. He turned and left the cell room. Miles gripped the paper in his hand. He walked back to his cot and unfolded it once more. All shapes and colors of green were sketched from top to bottom, left to right.

Lines were drawn from points A to B or C to D. In the lower right corner was a bar indicating a distance scale as well as big scrawled words that read, "San Lorenzo Map, property of Miles Shortman"

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To Be continued