Chapter Three
Rude Awakenings

Day Three
Saturday, May 3, 2008

Somewhere – Somewhen

The world was incredibly foggy to his eyes. Something was wrong; he could see her running through a field of vibrantly green grass. She turned her head to look behind, a wild shock of bright red hair slapping her in the face. Her loose summer robe fluttered around her legs as they pumped harder than ever to get to him. He stood just behind one of the monolithic stones on the inside of the circle. He saw her briefly before he returned behind it once again. As usual, the temperature seemed to drop as she ran upward toward the stone circle. Finally, she made her way through the deep ditch around the outer rim and crawled up once more and scrambled quickly inside the circle of what she hoped was protection.

“Caitlin, is that you?” his deep voice announced.

“Oh yes, it’s me, my love. They’re coming this time, this is our last meeting, Quintes,” she cried. “They found out, about us…”

Quintes, who’d removed the Roman armor he normally wore, dropped his head. The last time they had met, they had been wed by Roman laws, but not her people’s laws. The natives here in the isles had very different thinking about these things. And her father had forbid him from entering their lands at all, and to find that they had been secretly meeting at the great stone circle for several months now after they had been wed there would seal Quintes’s death. If only that was the consequence, but it would also seal the fate of Caitlin for she would most likely be stoned to death with her own family at the forefront. He could not take her with him, her kind would not be accepted among the Romans as an equal.

He took her into his arms as she wept. “How long until they find us?” he asked.

She shook her head against his chest. “I don’t ken, my brother must have followed us and viewed the ceremony. He…he….told our father, and he went into a rage like naer I seen, and then…” she sobbed, stopping to heave a shaking breath. “He t-told me…told me…”

Quintes held her tighter. “What?”

“He’d kill ye and…th-then deal with me…I’m scared Quintes, I don’t know why Sean would…would do this…” she said gasping for breath through the tears that still fell.

“I would do this to protect our family, Caitlin,” Sean’s voice came from behind another stone within the circle. The young Celt’s dark eyes were fired with something his sister had never seen before.

“Sean!” she gasped, pulling Quintes closer to her. “What are ye doing here? Why have ye done this!”

The young man slowly walked closer, a claymore swinging behind him. Quintes slowly pulled his much shorter Roman short sword from the leather hilt where it lay on a rock beside them.

“Don’t do this Sean; I’m one of Rome’s finest soldiers. Your barbaric fighting is no match for me, and I do not wish to harm you, for Caitlin’s sake,” Quintes said, holding the sword before him to protect himself and Caitlin from Sean.

Sean stopped, pulling the claymore from the scabbard. “That’s nae sure, because there is one difference twixt ye and me, Quintes. Honor and duty isn’t the most important thing to me.”

Quintes felt a sudden and sharp stinging sensation between his shoulders. He turned in time to see Marcus, one of his fellow soldiers, holding a bloody sword. The man was his friend, or was he? He heard Caitlin’s scream of horror and fear as he dropped to his knees, blood flowing freely down his back. Caitlin dropped down beside him, screaming for her brother to stop and to leave them alone.

“I’m sorry; Quintes, but we can’t have someone as weak as you in our ranks. You fell for her tricks, and now you have to die…and so does she. I wish I’d never let her in that night when she was hurt near the baths. Then it would not have come to this. I will not let you stain Rome’s honor by one of these barbaric people,” Marcus said, sheathing his sword and turning away.

To his own horror, however, Marcus felt the sting of a blade in his own back. He turned to see the fiery red haired Celt holding the sword that Quintes had dropped. His face held a smile of malice unlike anything he had seen. “And ye ken, Marcus, I cannae let you live.”

Marcus dropped within a moment, the strike true and to the heart, leaving Sean to wipe the blood onto the dead man’s cloak. He then turned to his sister and her “husband”.

“As for you, my sister, you cannae live, either,” he said and in one deft swipe, sliced through the front of her throat, leaving her to die with a look of shock on her face.

Quintes screamed as she convulsed in his arms, dying before a word could escape her lips. His own life blood was draining fast away, though. He watched as Sean calmly took his own claymore and forced it through the front of Marcus’s body, bringing it out bloodied. He then took his sword and placed it against his chest. He looked up, seeing Quintes staring at him, and he winked, and something otherworldly flashed through the Roman’s mind. Something… And then the Celt forced the sword through his own chest, falling quickly upon the body of Marcus.

Why…why all the show…

Quintes finally fell forward, unable to sit holding Caitlin’s body any longer, his arms wrapped about her in a lover’s embrace, as close to lovers as they had ever gotten. He wanted it to look like Marcus killed us, he thought, his vision blurring at the edges softly. He wanted to look like he’d died in a fight with him afterward, taking vengeance for his sister’s demise, for he so loved his family that he would not appear to have betrayed them, even in death. He so loved them he killed, and then died for them. Tears escaped the Roman’s eyes as he stared into Caitlin’s lifeless green eyes until the world went entirely black.

Location Unknown – Sometime after noon

Michael’s eyes fluttered and he saw only darkness for a long time. The effects of the strange dream had left him somewhat disorientated, and for a moment he thought he was still in the dream. Then he remembered the man with the gun, a tranquilizer gun, apparently. His head was pounding and even though he couldn’t see it, he knew the room was spinning. He swallowed, his mouth feeling as though it was filled with cotton. Whatever the bastard had shot him with had a hangover effect like two gallon’s of cheap whiskey. He shook his head and tried to move but found himself unable to move arms or legs. Then the throbbing in his ribs and his face reminded him of the beating he’d gotten. He groaned as he strained against something that felt like rope. They must be tied down, he thought. He kept struggling for a moment but stopped within a couple minutes because he was still under the effects of whatever he’d been shot with. He breathed heavily for a few moments and then once his heart stopped racing he realized something: he heard another person’s breathing in the room.

“Hello?” he said. “Hello, is someone else there?”

There was no answer, but the breathing continued, slow and steady. Whoever it was, they were asleep or unconscious. He wondered why, thinking perhaps they were kidnapped like he was for whatever reason he’d been taken. He gasped. The girl that was kidnapped yesterday? He shook his head and waited. Thousands of thoughts ran through his head. Who could this have been and why would they be doing this? Ransom was the obvious reason to abduct someone, but his dad wasn’t rich. He was just a private investigator, and though he was good, he didn’t make a lot of money. He thought hard for a second. Why else would someone abduct a person if not for money? His heart skipped a beat as the horror stories he’d seen on TV and movies ran through his mind. Nah that shit didn’t really happen. People really didn’t abduct people just to get their kicks by torturing and murdering them. He swallowed hard. He knew better, because he knew it could happen, and had happened. But why him? Surely it had to be something else…

A moaning sound issued from somewhere to his left, where the breathing had been coming from. It sounded like a girl, though. The fact it was a girl did not increase his confidence in his idea that this was something besides a torture murder plot. And it pretty much confirmed his idea that it was the girl that had been kidnapped the day before.

“Wh-where…” the higher, rough voice said, confirming Michael’s suspicions. “Where am I? Is anyone there?”

Michael wasn’t sure what to say but he had to say something. “Yeah. Are you tied up too?”

He heard her clear her throat and the distinct rustle of her pulling at ropes. “Seems like it,” she said, her voice somewhat hoarse and slurred. “What’s happened? Do you know?”

“Nah, this dude nabbed me in front of my buddy’s house while I was delivering pizza to ‘em. Dunno who the dude is, but he beat the shit outta me in the process, and then shot me with a damn dart gun…” he said sighing. “What ‘bout you?”

The girl paused a long while. “The guy pulled up by me at the school and asked me if I was Don Kim’s daughter, and I told him yes, then he shot me with a dart gun…”

The two sat there quiet for a while before Michael finally spoke up. “My name’s Michael Heights, I guess introductions are in order since we’re apparently stuck here together.”

“Oh, yeah, my name’s CJ Kim. Glad to meet you, Michael,” she answered slowly. Her voice still sounded off, like she was not completely out of whatever drug they’d been under. Her voice sounded somewhat familiar though, as if he’d heard it somewhere before.

The room was flooded with garish light as a light above them flared into being. Four naked bulbs slowly distinguished themselves around the windowless room. Michael blinked, getting his bearings slowly. He saw two doors, one in the back and one directly in front of them. The one in front of them was wood banded with steel. He blinked a few more times to be sure. A door with reinforced steel? He looked down, and found the floor to be yellow painted concrete with a rough blue area rug under them. He saw two beds when he craned his neck behind him, each a mattress and box with a pile of bed clothes in the middle of each, a couple of chairs and tables, and a larger dining type table with a couple of chairs. What the hell was this?

“CJ, are you seeing this?” he whispered, turning his head toward her.

She sat with her head down, her long black hair falling down to her lap. She wore a black t-shirt hiked up around her ribs and a pair of worn jeans. She was barefoot, and she’d been sitting in position long enough that her wrists and waist were both rubbed bright red from the ropes.

“CJ…” he asked again. “CJ how long have you been down here?”

She turned her head toward him; her eyes dilated more than they should have been in the bright light and shook her head. “I don’t know… I’ve woken up and yelled for help once or twice and he came…and he gave me a shot…feels like it was a few minutes ago, though.”

Michael realized that he himself was also barefoot and tied in the exact same way she was. He felt the ropes around his waist biting into his skin, but his shirt had slid down over them once more. He heard noise above them. A basement? They were in a basement? It sounded like something falling. Was it the guy who shot him? There was no one else…unless he was just a hired hit man to do the deep for the maniac that was going to hack them to pieces. Michael swallowed again. Fucking horror movies, he thought, letting out a shuddering breath. There was a scraping creaking sound. They heard noise much clearer then.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sheila! What the fuck are you doing still messing around? Get your ass in gear and get their food to them. Dead kids don’t do nothing for me,” came from the other side of the door, muffled but incredibly clear.

The yelling voice, which both CJ and Michael recognized as the man that had abducted them, was answered by a muffled voice, obviously female. They couldn’t make out any of the words she spoke, however. Michael felt his heart slip into his throat. Maybe now they’d find out what was going on? He both wanted to know and didn’t want to know. If they were going to be kept alive for ransom, there was no way his dad could come up with the money in a million years. Of course, it could be so he could torture and kill them at his leisure. At the thought his heart thrummed harder in his chest. Oh, my God, he thought. I don’t want to know.

He looked over at the girl again, and she still sat with her head down. Jesus, she was doped up until she was higher than a kite. She’d gotten tossed down here before him, by almost two whole days if she was the girl that had gotten kidnapped from the school, and he’d drugged her to keep her quiet. She is a pretty thing, he thought, realizing that he had seen her before. Damn! She was that hot little Asian chic that was in his Monday, Wednesday, Friday biology class! That was why her name sounded familiar, and she had missed the final, but for some reason the prof hadn’t said anything. Now he knew why. She always sat at the front, and he always sat at the back, but he distinctly remembered the first day of class when him and Jeremy had commented on every girl in the class as they walked in. Of course, that’s before Jeremy had gotten together with Elle.

But this girl, the Kim girl as they’d called her all semester, had caught their attention. She wasn’t really thin like some of the other girls, and in fact it seemed she tried to hide herself in baggy clothes, but she was a lot better looking than those other girls. At least both Jeremy and Michael had agreed. She was still small statured like most Asian girls, but she obviously wasn’t full blood because she had some meat on her bones, which Michael didn’t mind. At least she had boobs… A long time ago they’d decided they didn’t like the anorexic girls, and they always took time to find the ones they did like when classes started. Her dad was also a doctor at the local hospital, a trauma surgeon or something like that. Well, hell, she’d have the money to be ransomed, then. He sighed; of course, his dad didn’t have the money to ransom him.

“Oh, I’m so hungry,” CJ whispered. “It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

“That’s because it’s been since Thursday morning since you ate, hon,” a female voice said from the now open door. “It’s Saturday morning now.”

Michael looked up, amazed that he hadn’t noticed the door opening. A tall, thin woman stood there, her hair platinum blonde, but not the kind that came out of a bottle. She was extremely pale and gaunt, but had the most piercing blue eyes he’d ever seen. She looked to be in her mid thirties, but with women it was so hard to tell. She wore a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jean shorts. She didn’t wear any shoes, though. She carried a steaming tray over to the dining sized tables and sat it down. Michael could smell food and realized that he was starving as well. As she moved around behind him, he twisted his wrist around to see his watch, realizing that she was right. It was the next day, and well after noon now.

The woman came back and deftly untied Michael. He looked up at her with eyes full of questions. She smiled, and he realized she had a pretty one, but it was haggard, as though she’d seen a lot in her life. She stood up and put both hands on her hips.

“There you go, bub. I’m Sheila, and I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here. I don’t know anything about what’s going on, so don’t bother with the questions. I do what I’m told and that’s it. I’m here to make your food, make sure you’re healthy, and to keep him away from you, at his request. He doesn’t want to do anything he’d regret before it’s all over. I don’t know what ‘it’ is so don’t bother asking.

“Bathroom’s back there, there’s a first aid kit up in the cabinet there. If anything happens to you, don’t worry I’m a Nurse Practitioner. I checked over your wounds when you came in, but neither of you have anything serious. If you feel ill, let me know. I’m also keeping an eye on what he gives you. So you have to let me know if anything feels odd.

“As far as that goes, you are being kept slightly sedated to reduce the risk of hurting yourselves or trying to do anything stupid. You can’t get out, so don’t even try. You’re basically in an underground vault, not a normal basement. This is an old bomb shelter that has been converted into a ‘basement’ for the house above. You can’t dig out, you can’t get through the door, and you can’t be heard upstairs once the two doors have been closed. If you need me, there’s a button by the doorway that’s connected to an intercom upstairs in the phone. I will know it’s you because the phone has a separate ring for it.”

She stood there for a moment and watched as Michael rubbed his wrists and stared. How do you respond to something like this, he thought.

“Any questions that I can answer?” she asked, arching a brow.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, what’s wrong with her?”

She went over to CJ and lifted her chin and looked at her eyes. “She’s coming out of the effects of the drug he shot her up with. Not the best thing for what he was looking for, but no one said Joe was smart about stuff like this, probably grabbed the first syringe in my case he saw that had a name he knew. She’ll be fine in an hour or two. Alright, I’ll deliver food at mealtimes, and if you need something in between buzz me.”

With that she turned on her heel and went up the steps to the large, metal door. She knocked on it and it opened. Michael tried to see what was on the other side, but all he saw was the silhouette of a large person, probably this “Joe” she mentioned. He got up and went over to CJ and started untying her carefully. She’d been tied up for almost two days, he thought. He guessed whatever the guy had shot him with lasted about twelve hours, and if she’d been here since Thursday before noon, then he’d have to do something, especially if his caretaker hadn’t shown up yet.

“Hey, CJ, she brought food, can you walk?” he asked as he knelt in front of her after untying her ankles.

Her eyes were still bleary but she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve gotta eat something,” she said slowly as Michael stood up.

She stood up slowly and took a step. Michael could tell immediately that she was going to fall. He reached out and she collapsed into his arms, her knees completely giving out. She blinked and looked up, her face less than an inch from his and stared into his eyes for a second. A wave of déjà vu washed over her, and truth be told, over Michael as well. Both of them were as still as death for a moment, and then CJ cleared her throat.

“Yeah, so can you help me get over to the table? I’m still starving, namja,” she said slowly.

Michael started and smiled. “Yeah, me too,” he said. Namja? He thought. He’d have to ask her about it later.

He held her up as he walked her to the chair and they both sat down. They dove into the food, leaving nothing but the dishes on the tray.

Police Station – 3:50 pm

“So you’re telling me that all four of you know each other?” Ben asked as he looked around the conference room table where Terri and Randy Heights sat across from Mara and Donald Kim.

Don Kim nodded. “Yeah, I know it’s not something that’s ever come up, but Randy and I were in the military over in the sandbox during Desert Shield and Desert Storm. We can’t reveal a lot about what we were doing, because most of it is classified military matters.”

Ben looked around the table. He knew all of these people, but he had never imagined that they had a history with each other. The wives even knew everything about what was going on. “Mara, Terri, how do you fit in to all of this?”

Mara shrugged. “Terri and I were living on the same base while our husbands were away. We knew each other well before and after we had Michael and CJ. They were too small to know what was going on when it all happened, and they defiantly don’t remember each other. When two army wives have husbands on the same squad, it makes sense for us to become friends.”

“We ended up moving here afterward a few years before Don and Mara moved here, and we were surprised when they ended up in the same area, but because of the past, we had to keep things quiet,” Terri said, tossing the empty Styrofoam cup back and forth between her hands.

Ben sighed, leaning back into his chair. “Okay this is all wonderful, but where does this guy that kidnapped the kids fit into all of this?”

Don sighed. “We can’t get into details, Officer Sellars. Most of it has been classified. What I can tell you is that this guy, a man whose real name is Joseph Aaron Jackson, is dangerous and angry. Randy, Joe, and I were on an elite squad during that time with two other guys. We were a five man team, and we’d been together since basic training. Joe did something that cost us our mates Daughtery and Carrolle. What he did was not only illegal, but it was also detrimental to the security of our team. Randy and I managed to convince him we were on his side in the matter. Our plan, of course was to turn him in and see that he was punished for his actions. We did just that, and at first, Joe thought we were caught as well.”

Randy sipped a coke that the secretary had brought him. “During the court marshal, we were required to take the stand. At that point everything was revealed, and Joe vowed to make us pay for betraying him. He was sentenced to life in a military prison, but it appears that someone broke him out.”

Just then, the door opened and a man in a perfectly pressed black suit appeared. He had a briefcase in his hand and dark glasses. His hair was blond and pulled back in a ponytail behind his head, making a very inconsistent look. The hair was perfectly neat, though, and tied with a plain black band. Ben looked up, seeing the FBI tag on his front pocket.

“Richard Pearson, I would guess,” Ben said as he stood up.

The man took off his glasses and slid them down into his pocket. His eyes were deep brown and alive.

“Hey man, Richard Pearson, please don’t call me Dick, at your service,” he said shaking the officer’s hand.

Ben didn’t know what to say. He heard Don and Terri snicker. He turned back with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Yeah, Ben, this is Rich,” Don said, emphasizing the name. “He was our FBI liaison when all of this was going down, and it seems like he hasn’t changed a damn bit since then. Still looks like a surfer boy reject trying to look like a big boy.”

Richard rolled his eyes and dropped his briefcase down on the end of the table and popped it open. He pulled out a folder and handed it to Ben.

“This is his declassified profile, along with the profile of his accomplice, or at least what we have of it. We believe it is a woman he may be involved with at this time, but every picture we have of her is different. The faces are similar, so we think it’s the same woman, she just seems to be adept at disguises. She knows what she’s doing, though, but we don’t know where she’s been trained.

“He escaped a maximum security lock up. They’re currently investigating how, but it is believed that he did so by way of outside aide, bribes and blackmail. We already have two MPs in custody for aiding him from the inside, but they haven’t spilled who they’re working for yet. He has had contact with several illicit organizations since his escape, and has managed to make himself untraceable in the process. We had tabs on him through contacts until one week ago, when he disappeared off the radar. We know for a fact that at least two organizations are looking for him because of what he was supposed to do for them once he escaped. Our theory is that these organizations helped organize the escape, and now he has decided to pursue his own interests and abandoned the contracts he’s made with these groups,” Richard said, sitting down slowly.

Ben looked over the folders and then back to the FBI man. “So what do we do?”
Richard looked at each of them in turn, shaking his head. “Not a damn thing until he makes a move, until then, we chill, my friends. I’m authorized to tap phones and all the fun stuff, but that’s why I’m an agent.”

Ben looked at him and nodded. “Do what you need to, agent Pearson. Let me know if my people can do anything for you.”

Richard nodded glancing at the Kims and the Heights. “Until he makes a move, kiddies, we’re stuck.”