72 hours Ch. 3
Within seconds of Justin falling limply to the floor, Chris was at his side, scooping the young man’s head from the floor to cradle it in his lap while Johnny scrambled out into the hallway to get help from the boys’ bodyguards.
“Justin…J,” Chris murmured to the pale, still figure, as he ran his hands over Justin’s clammy face not even noticing when Mike and Dre joined him on the floor.
“Chris…you need to get back,” Mike said calmly as he bent over Justin, and ran his hand over his forehead then gently lifted one of the young man’s closed eyelids while Dre ran his large hands over Justin’s head.
“I don’t think he hit his head on his way down,” Johnny said as he placed his hands on Chris’s shoulders and gently tugged the young man back when Dre gently lifted Justin’s head from the young man’s lap.
“Give them some room, Chris,” he said when he felt some resistance to his efforts coming from the young man.
“For just a sec, Chris,” Dre said as he gently pushed Chris back, then spoke to Mike.
“We need him face down, Mike in case he gets sick then we need to prop his feet up against something.”
Dre glanced to his right and saw a coffee table not three feet behind Johnny.
“Johnny…drag that table over here.”
“Chris…go get a wet washcloth,” Mike quickly instructed, trying to keep Chris busy before he and Dre carefully straightened Justin from his awkward, crumpled position then turned his body face down on the carpet, his arms lying limply at his sides. They knew that this position was rather unorthodox, but the tour’s physician had told them that this was the best possible position to put one of the boys in if they ever fainted. If they did happen to become sick, they would less likely to inhale anything they expelled.
Seconds later, Justin’s feet were awkwardly propped up against the table, his knees bent, and Chris was gently wiping his pale, sweaty forehead with the cloth as he spoke in quiet tones to the still figure in hopes that he would awaken soon.
“If he doesn’t come to in about 5 minutes, we’ll need to call the hotel doctor,” Dre said as he knelt back down by Chris and handed him a new washcloth.
“I’ve already called him,” Johnny murmured, not taking his eyes from the two young men on the floor. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Just as Johnny finished his statement, Justin gave a small moan and slightly moved his head under Chris’s hand while there was a knock on the door.
Several minutes later, under the hotel physician’s instructions, Mike and Dre hefted a very disoriented and drowsy Justin from the floor and gently half-carried him into his bedroom where he was laid on his bed.
“When did the episode occur?” the doctor asked as he, with stethoscope in hand, bent over Justin who was becoming slowly, but surely, more increasingly aware of what was going on around him.
“About 15 minutes ago,” Johnny answered from the bedside.
“Has he ever fainted before?” the doctor asked as he straightened from his stooped position to retrieve a thermometer.
“No, sir,” Chris answered from the opposite side of the bed where he was seated, holding Justin’s left hand.
“Has he been ill lately, complaining of headaches, dizziness, nausea?”
“No, sir. We’ve been on tour and he’s more than likely exhausted,” Johnny answered for Chris. He didn’t want any information of the abduction of 3/5 of Nsync to be let out sooner than necessary and apparently Chris, Mike and Dre understood since their answers were just as general as his.
In the meantime, with a nod of his head, the doctor allowed Chris to crawl onto the bed and settle himself right along side of Justin, with his back against the headboard.
Things were still appeared to be very hazy for Justin, his reactions to questions and requests from the doctor were very slow and sluggish, but when the bed dipped with Chris’s weight, he seemed to sense who was now by him and turned himself on his side then put his head in Chris’s lap.
As the doctor finished his examination, Justin became completely aware of his surroundings, but was able to hide his reeling emotions until the doctor had left the room, minutes later, much to everyone’s relief. During the time that he had rested his head on Chris’s lap, he had felt the older man’s hand slowly run over his curls and heard quiet words of encouragement and reassurance but, just as soon as the bedroom door closed behind the doctor’s retreating form, the dam holding Justin’s tears in check broke and he began to quietly sob into his hands.
“How is he?” Johnny asked the doctor as he anxiously hefted his cell phone from one hand to the other. He was prepared to call Justin’s mother, Lynn Harliss, if necessary or, even Justin’s father, Randy Timberlake since he was somewhat closer to where they were. Fortunately, the doctor’s words soothed one of Johnny’s fears, alleviating the need to make any emergency phone calls to parents, but heightened immediately another.
“He’s more than likely suffering from exhaustion, but I do have the distinct feeling that he also received a bit of a shock…maybe bad news,” the doctor answered as he gazed at the three men, but their expressions yielded no answers and he inwardly shrugged. He had, through the years, been called into situations involving various celebrities and, more times than not, been meet with the same stony expressions and vague language from those he treated and their companions.
“Well, I’m glad that he’s not ill,” Johnny said carefully as he put on his best, expressionless face that he had cultivated through his many years in the entertainment business. “What kind of instructions do we need to follow for Justin’s care?”
”He needs rest… I’m also going to prescribe some medication that will help him getting that rest. I’ve already given him one dose and I want him to take it an additional dose this afternoon. He’ll need to follow the instructions on the bottle for the rest of the doses until the medications are gone.”
“Can the hotel have this filled?” Johnny asked as he fingered the piece of paper that had been handed to him. He recognized the prescription that the doctor was giving Justin and he inwardly frowned. Justin was going to be out like a light for probably the next 24 hours with the two doses that would be taken today and he would more than likely be a walking zombie for the next several days taking the entire dosage that was being prescribed.
“Yes…if you’d like me to, I’ll just take it with me and have it filled and delivered to you within the hour,” the doctor said as Johnny passed the paper back to him.
“Is there anything else that Justin can take, doctor besides what you are prescribing? That’s pretty strong medication there,” Johnny said as he pointed at the piece of paper.
“It is a strong medication, Mr. Wright, but Mr. Timberlake is in need of rest and if I understand his profession well enough, sleep is not always consistent nor is it always restful, hence the medications.” The doctor’s tone seemed to leave no room for argument causing Johnny to tiredly nod his head in agreement as he gave a little sigh. He knew that Justin would not be resting at all with the situation surrounding JC, Joey and Lance and if that was what he needed, then that was what he was going to get.
“Let me know, Mr. Wright if he shows any signs of dizziness or has another fainting episode. There is always a physician on site here at the hotel and when he returns home, he needs to see his primary physician so that he is aware of what happened. Here…this is my card,” he said holding out a business card that he had pulled from his jacket’s breast pocket. “Have Mr. Timberlake give this to his doctor so that he can contact me and I can fax any necessary documents to him.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Johnny replied handing the card to Dre as Mike escorted the physician out of the suite and into the hallway.
Once Mike had returned to the room, Johnny dropped onto a nearby couch and held his head in his hands.
“This can’t be happening,” he quietly moaned aloud to no one in particular. “This can’t be real.”
Two of the four kidnappers stood assembled at the top of the cellar stairs looking down at the three unconscious, bound and gagged forms lying on mattresses on the dirt floor below that they had abducted a few hours earlier. The two remaining kidnappers moved from one inert form to the next checking their blood pressure and pulse.
“Everything sounds good…Bass’s heart murmur is a little pronounced, but we’ll give him his meds when he wakes up,” Barrett called up to Lawrence and Cary, while Zachary finished retying Joey, JC and Lance’s hands in front of their bodies.
“How is Fatone’s breathing?” Lawrence asked as he walked down a few steps in order to have a better view of Joey’s still body. Earlier, on their way in from the tour bus to their current location, Joey had experienced a brief period of labored breathing. They figured that it was due to his gag hampering his abilities to properly breathe, and it was removed and he was given a shot of benadryl to help with his allergies. Seconds later, his breathing was back to normal and the gag was replaced.
“I still can’t believe we pulled this off,” Zachary said to Cary from his position beside JC. “I mean…geez…two of us are med students and the other two are law students turned kidnappers and for what?”
“Prestige, money, and being debt free,” Cary answered as he turned his back to the three. He was beginning to feel his own uncertainties of what they had done, but he wasn’t going to let anyone know how he was feeling.
“Maybe we’re in it for a little revenge too,” Lawrence added under his breath, from the top of the stairs. Although his voice had been low, Cary had still caught what he had said and gave his friend a look of confusion.
‘Revenge?’ he thought, but before he could ask what he had meant by the statement, Lawrence spoke again.
“Ya’ll need to hurry up…we need to be ready for the blond to read the list of demands to his management when he wakes up,” he called over his shoulder before walking through the door at the head of the stairs.
“Hey, Lawrence, I need to ask you something,” Barrett said as he stood up and trotted toward the stairs.
Lawrence nodded his head and made his way toward the doorway at the top of the stairs while Barrett took two steps at a time to catch up with the older man.
“I’ll help Zachary,” Cary said with little enthusiasm as he descended the stairs and joined the other in finishing his tasks.
The cloth gags were replaced with heavy duct tape that was wound completely around the young men’s heads. It would not only be difficult, but next to impossible for them to free themselves from the tape if it was done right, even with their hands bound in front of them. The ropes surrounding their ankles were replaced with the tape as were those ropes surrounding their wrists.
As Cary worked, he recalled how he had heard his roommate’s crazy idea to alleviate some of the debts they had accumulated with medical and law school and out of hand gambling. He had scoffed at Lawrence thinking that his friend was either drunk or high. There was no way that they could possibly kidnap a well-known celebrity and hold him for ransom. Then, when he had heard the plans that had been formed by Barrett, Zachary, and Lawrence to kidnap more than one celebrity, he thought his friends had truly lost their minds. Now, looking down at three of the five members of the world famous pop group, Nsync, he now realized the true meaning of lunacy.
“Finished here,” Zachary said as he stood up from JC’s side and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to go get their meds ready…we’ll give Chasez a dose of Valium to keep him out of it. We need to be careful with the other two.”
“Benadryl would work just as well with fewer side affects…easier to get and it’s legal,” Cary suggested wanting to keep the young men safe in that respect at least.
Both men climbed the stairs and opened the door and were surprised to see that Lawrence was returning.
“I think I left something down there,” he said as he pushed his way between the pair. Cary shrugged his shoulders at Zachary’s questioning look.
“We’ll leave the door open for you, man,” Cary said before following Zachary through the doorway.
“Nah…go ahead and close it,” Lawrence answered as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll be down here for just a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
Lawrence heard the door close and he headed into the middle of the room where he quietly stood looking at JC’s still form. The young man was lying on his back, dark circles under his eyes, his face flushed. His features were not bruised like those of his friends. Lance had been left lying on his right side in an effort to keep an eye on the still oozing scalp wound that he had given him. Cary and Zachary had said that stitches were not needed to close the wound and butterfly bandages had been used.
Lawrence then looked at the third figure that had been left lying on his left side since there was a large lump on the back of his head, behind his right ear.
“Humph…I did it, Pops,” he said quietly as he looked up from the unconscious forms lying nearby to the ceiling. “I’m gonna make sure he knows what I went through…he’ll begin to understand…he will…I swear.”
The young man’s thoughts tumbled about in his head…thoughts and bitter, angry memories of his father’s failed business venture that eventually led to his end.
Lawrence had become a law student to enact revenge on those he felt had mistreated his deceased father, but he found that justice was slow and, more often than not, it was not served according to his standards. That line of reasoning was what had finally led him to plan his own revenge against the man who had caused him to lose his father to premature death several years earlier. Unfortunately, he found that the man whom he felt wronged his father was now also dead, but that didn’t matter. He had found an outlet for his anger…the man’s son.
Almost two decades earlier, Lawrence’s father, Jacob Davidson had been involved in a fairly lucrative business when Lawrence had been just an infant. Jacob had been involved with a business partner that he had known for several years. Unfortunately, this new business partner had not been aware that Jacob had managed to hide the fact that he had had poor business sense in the past and had lost incredible amounts of money in several ventures. Eventually, Jacob made a bad miscalculation with the business he was sharing with his partner, causing it to go belly up. Lawrence’s father became overwrought knowing that he was the true reason behind the one time successful venture’s demise but he did not want that fact to get out. As a result, he caused several things to happen which allowed others to believe that he was not the cause of the business failure…it was his partner… and the guilt ate away at him, but Lawrence was unaware of this. He was about 5 years old at the time of the business’s crash and in his young eyes, he knew that his father, his hero, was not to blame…it was Chris Kirkpatrick’s father, JP Kirkpatrick.
Although fairly young, Lawrence saw the results of Chris’s father’s supposed mistake…his own father’s failing health, the disintegration of his parents’ marriage and his mother’s alcoholism, all the time never knowing that his father was the true cause of all his problems.
Eventually, Lawrence’s father not only declared bankruptcy, but also squandered what little savings the family had on one get rich quick scheme after another and each time, he failed. As a result, Lawrence grew up in a broken home bent on revenge against the man who he felt was the true cause of the problems his family faced…John Paul Kirkpatrick. And, since JP was dead, the next best place to lay blame was at the feet of his son, Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick.
Now, looking at the figures before him, he realized that his revenge would soon be dealt out against Chris…he was going to cause him to feel a small portion of the same pain that he felt as he watched his father slip away from him. He had hoped that Chris was going to be on the bus when he and the others had pulled it over, but maybe…maybe this would be better…maybe…
“Wait a minute…wait…” he said as he turned in a small circle, looking from one slumped form to the next. Seconds later, he let out a small giggle that soon escalated into a full out laugh. He had a wonderful idea that could possibly be the full culmination of the revenge that he wanted to exact against Chris Kirkpatrick and his family.
Walking over to a desk set in the far corner of the room, kicking up dust from the basement’s dirt floor as he went, Lawrence sat down in the chair and pulled open one of the desk’s warped drawers. Soon he had an opened spiral notebook resting on the desk’s surface, furiously writing. Several times he either scratched through what he wrote or wadded up the page and began writing again. After several attempts, he was satisfied with what he had written and stood up to cross the room to the stairs. Before climbing the steps he took one more glance at the bound figures lying on the floor.
“You boys are going to have some company soon…real soon,” he chuckled as he excitedly mounted the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
Johnny wiped away his tears as he turned off his cell phone. He had just ended his conversation with Roy and Karen Chasez. It had been painful telling Joe and Phyllis Fatone and Jim and Diane Bass about their sons’ kidnapping, but telling Roy and Karen that their son had been kidnapped three days before his 26th birthday had been excruciatingly difficult. What could he say? How could you give parents news that might mean their son may never see his next birthday?
The dam holding his tears in full check broke and several minutes later, Mike and Dre found Johnny in his bedroom weeping bitterly. He was urged to lie down for a few minutes, and finally, after tossing and turning, he was sleeping fitfully.
It had not been long after the initial phone calls to WEG that bodyguards Lonnie Headnot, Jamie Williams, and Simon Peterson flew out to New York and now the five men were seated in the suite’s main room, staring at each other and staring at the phone that the police had wired, willing it to ring…hoping that it would be Lance, Joey or JC wanting someone to pick them up…to bring them home.
Lonnie slapped his large hands harshly against his thighs, startling those around him.
“Sorry,” he said rather sheepishly after seeing their reactions. “I’m gonna go check on Curly and Crazy,” he said as he crossed the room. He nodded his head at the two officers who were seated at the table in the kitchen area then stopped in front of the door leading into the room where Justin and Chris were sleeping.
The opening of the door did not cause either figure lying on the king size bed to stir in their sleep. Lonnie doubted that it would anyway. Johnny had told him that the medications that Justin and, finally Chris had taken were strong enough to keep them under for at least the next 8 to 12 hours if they were lucky.
Slowly, Lonnie crossed the room then stood at the foot of the bed and stared at the two figures with a sad expression on his large, black face. Even in sleep both Chris and Justin looked utterly lost. Justin’s forehead was creased with an expression of worry that Lonnie could only remember seeing throughout the very few times when the young man had actually been scared during their years of touring. There was the one time when Lance had nearly fallen off the rising pedestal when the platforms had been first used during rehearsals two years earlier. One minute everything was going fine, the singing was beautiful then the in next minute, screams of fright could be heard and everyone could see Lance dangling by his hands precariously from the edge of his platform while the rest of the boys were told to sit still in the middle of their own platforms. Luckily, the technicians operating the platforms had been on the ball and Lance was very close to the ground when his grip finally failed him and he fell into the waiting arms of several roadies.
The other occasion that came to mind had happened only recently and it involved an overly enthusiastic fan who had to get closer to the action on the stage. She stormed the catwalk and, before anyone could come between the two, Justin was flat on his back being straddled by the fan who, once she had made it to her goal, could do little more than scream. Mike and Dre had been the first to reach the young woman and pull her off of Justin, while Joey and JC pulled the young man to his feet and made a wild dash to the stage then behind the curtains. Neither Justin nor the young woman had been injured and both, in reality, had been scared out of their minds…Justin, just by the sheer surprise of the force behind her assault and the young woman just by the fact that she had actually met her favorite singer of the group, although in a rather unorthodox manner. She later said that she had no idea she what she was doing and her statement was believed. Management eventually relieved her of all privileges as an Nsync fan…no more concert attendance forever nor was she to ever attend any of their public events.
Lonnie quietly shook his head at those thoughts as he knelt down beside Justin’s still form and, with a large thumb, gently rubbed at the creases between the young man’s eyebrows. Slowly, the creases and lines of worry relaxed, as did the young man’s features and, seconds later, Lonnie was rewarded with a small sigh of contentment from the sleeping form. With a sad smile, Lonnie stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed and bent over Chris’s still form. He noted that Chris’s features were just as tight as Justin’s and he gave him the same treatment but without the same results…his features were just as tense as before.
Lonnie shrugged then stood back up from his stooped position, while, in the mean time, Chris turned in his sleep and his hand snaked out and snagged Justin’s outstretched arm. Lonnie noticed that almost immediately, Chris’s features relaxed and he shook his head.
“Well, Curly,” the bodyguard whispered. “You got someone who is going to be watching your back while you’re in here…you’re going to be okay.”
With that said, the large man turned and quietly reopened the bedroom door and left the sleeping pair behind.
“Hey…got an idea…I know how we can get the other two and make even more money,” Lawrence announced excitedly as he entered the kitchen.
“How?” Barrett asked enthusiastically as he looked up for the newspaper that he was reading. As far as he was concerned, this entire set up was an adventure that could not and would not fail.
“Have the other two…Timberlake and Kirkpatrick bring us the ransom,” Lawrence answered with a certain gleam in his eyes that the others had not seen before.
“They’d never let them do that,” Cary said in disbelief. “No way!”
“Cary’s right,” Zachary added. “No way will their management let them do that.”
”They will if the demands are tweaked just a little bit,” Lawrence said with a grin as he handed a piece of paper to Zachary who read it then, with wide eyes, handed it over to Barrett. Cary looked over his shoulder and read the new demands.
“That’s nuts, Lawrence,” Cary said after only make it half way through the document. “We can’t do that…you’re talking…you want to…to kill one of them if we don’t get our demands met?”
“Hey…in for a penny, in for a pound my grandma always said,” Barrett said with a grin as he glanced about the room at his friends. “I say, let’s do it…all the way.”
Barrett tossed the paper on the table then turned to the refrigerator and pulled out the makings for a sandwich.
“Anybody hungry?” he asked as he placed several items on a kitchen counter.
“How can you think about food at a time like this?” Cary asked incredulously as he watched the other pulling things from the refrigerator then place them on the nearby counter.
“A sandwich sounds good, B…fix me one too, but no mayo,” Zachary said as he picked up the piece of paper and glanced back over it.
“You’re not getting cold feet are you, Cary?” Lawrence asked pointedly. “We all need to be in this 100% for it to work.”
Cary took several deep breaths before answering. He had pushed aside so many of his morals to get up to this point and felt as if his life had taken a trip off the deep end. Down in his grandparent’s basement lay three young men, totally at their mercy…and for what…12 million stupid dollars.
Within the blink of an eye, Cary looked at his friend and nodded his head.
“Count me in, Lawrence…count me in.”
At the same time, in up state New York, the search was still on for the missing Nsync tour bus as well as the presumed kidnapped JC, Joey and Lance. Several state trooper vehicles were canvassing the rural highway that group’s bus driver and bodyguard had been left on as well as the surrounding farm to market roads that veered off left and right. It was down one of those small roads that the discovery was finally made.
“There it is…that’s their bus,” a New York State Trooper said to his partner as they pulled in behind the abandoned bus that was parked awkwardly on the side of the dirt road.
Several more patrol cars pulled up and minutes later, several of the troopers stormed the bus, their weapons raised, only to find that it was empty…nearly stripped of most of the valuables that had been listed by the buses’ driver and the boys’ bodyguard as being there.
An investigation team came on the scene and after several hours of thoroughly searching the inside and outside of the vehicle from top to bottom, it was determined that all six of the bunks on board the bus had been completely stripped of their mattresses, beddings and linens, there were no clothes present and almost every personal effect owned by the three victims on the bus had been taken as well, including medications and toiletries. The investigators found it unusual that all of the electronics on the bus, the television, VCR, stereo system, among other high priced items were still present while portable CD players and CD collections, Lance, Joey and JC’s laptop computers, palm pilots, as well as all cell phones were also missing. The investigators finally came to two conclusions. One was that the kidnappers had every intention of keeping the three young men for an extended amount of time and wanted to make sure that they were somewhat comfortable or the bus was stripped so that the items could be sold for drugs, but that conclusion did not make much sense since the VCR, stereo and television had not been taken.
Johnny closed his cell phone and looked at the list of items that the police were going to need for their investigation. For once, he didn’t have a clue as to how he would even begin to find what the officers wanted and wished that he was back in his bedroom sleeping instead of fielding more phone calls from police.
“Serial numbers…list of personal effects on the bus…” he said into his hands.
Mike looked over Johnny’s shoulder at the list. He realized that the serial numbers would help in possibly tracking the kidnappers’ whereabouts if they happened to try to fence any of the stolen items.
“Chris will be able to help you out with some of that…Justin too when they wake up,” he quietly suggested. “They need something to do, Johnny. Something that makes them feel like they’re actually helping out in finding the others.”
Johnny looked up and nodded his head slowly as he wiped a hand over his face.
“Let them rest for a while longer, Mike. I know that they have at least an hour longer before they’re supposed to start waking up from those medications. Some more officers are supposed to be here in a little while to check on the phones and at least Chris will need to be in here for that so he’ll know how to answer the phone and what to say if…one of the…um…kidnappers call,” Johnny said quietly as he watched Dre speaking with two officers who had arrived a few hours earlier. They had been sent to stay nearby in case a move was made to take Justin and Chris.
It had already been decided that both young men needed to remain where they were. The kidnappers would more than likely think that management would send the boys home, making them even more vulnerable than they already were.
Mike gave Johnny’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before he walked over to the boys’ bedroom door and quietly opened it to reveal both young men still quietly sleeping. With a sad shake of his head, the bodyguard closed the door then crossed the room to where the officers were giving out more instructions to the others.
Dim light shining through the windows near the ceiling of the basement revealed the fact that one of the still figures lying on mattresses on the floor was slowly beginning to come to from his drug induced sleep. Movements were slow, cautious and awkward. Joey moaned painfully into his thick gag as he fearfully glanced about him in search of JC and Lance through eyes squinted in an effort to fight the growing headache that he was feeling behind his right ear where he had been hit. He looked about him in an effort to find his friends in his limited range of vision, but it was all without luck.
‘Gotta move…gotta move…gotta find Jace…Lance…gotta do it,’ he said in his mind as he rolled awkwardly from his left side onto his back and winced as blood rushed into his numbed left arm and shoulder and the lump on his head made contact with his mattress. His discomfort was soon forgotten when he saw from his new position that Lance was lying tied up and gagged on a mattress just a few feet away and JC was just a few feet beyond him, also lying bound and gagged on a mattress.
Joey’s relief at seeing his friends was short lived, though when he realized that both were either asleep or unconscious and, for the life of him, he had no earthly idea how he was going to get to them since he was practically immobile. He knew that his headache was preventing him from thinking clearly and he was sure that if he gave himself just a few minutes to grow used to the throbbing pain, he would come up with some ideas on how to get to his friends.
While he contemplated his options, Joey heard footsteps overhead, startling him. He looked up and realized that they must be in a basement since there were bare beams in neat rows overhead and, for the first time, he saw several poles scattered about the rooms, supporting the ceiling. The sound of a door opening caused his gaze to wildly jerk and he tensely watched as two pairs of feet descended the staircase at the far side of the room. Seconds later, Joey was looking into the veiled faces of the men that had taken him and the others.
“Looks like someone is awake,” a deep voice said. Joey couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of the voice that belonged to the same person he had awakened to on the bus before being tied up and hit over the head. From his position on the floor, Joey was disturbed to see that not only was the individual tall, he was solidly built, something he had missed while in his bunk on the bus. The other individual was as equally built but was slightly smaller in stature, but that did nothing to alleviate the fear that gnawing away at his stomach.
“Since you are awake, Mr. Fatone, we are going to give you the chance to visit the restroom. I suggest that you take this opportunity.”
Joey nodded weakly as he suddenly realized that he did indeed need to use the restroom.
“When I untie your feet and hands, do not kick or hit me…if you do, he’ll kill one of them…do not speak unless you are spoken to or he’ll kill one of them,” the figure said as he gestured toward the slighter man behind him before kneeling before Joey.
Joey’s stomach dropped at those words and a strange mixture of fear and anger bubbled inside him as he watched the shorter man kneel down beside JC’s still form. Almost causally, the man pulled out a knife before grabbing a handful of JC’s hair, pulling his head back, baring the young man’s neck where he laid the blade of his knife.
Joey prayed that JC would remain unconscious knowing that he would come completely unglued if he knew what was happening to him and that would definitely make the situation much worse than it already was.
Joey remained still as a knife sliced through the heavy tape surrounding his wrists and ankles and he couldn’t help but moan in pain when the tape pulled hair away from his arms, but that pain was nothing compared to that he felt when the tape wound about his head was pulled away. Joey’s eyes smarted with unshed tears after the tape had been pulled from his face and head as he allowed himself to be pulled up from the mattress then pushed toward a small doorway where the bathroom was located. He entered the small enclosure and was disappointed to find that he was not going to be allowed to close the door.
“I’ll stand out here to give you some privacy, but the door stays open…or…he kills Mr. Chasez or Mr. Bass.”
Joey numbly nodded his head then turned toward the far wall in the room where the toilet was.
‘I’m on the bus…it’s just the guys out there…I’m on the bus,’ he told himself as he fought against feelings of embarrassment while walking toward the toilet. With those thoughts in mind, he made quick work of relieving himself then washed his hands before taking a few sips of water from the sink’s faucet then walked back out of the doorway.
“Hands out, Mr. Fatone,” the figure said as he brandished a pair of handcuffs. Joey lifted his arms and slightly winced when the cuffs were clasped tightly about his wrists. He once again allowed himself to be led across the room and sat down when they reached his mattress.
“The others should be awakening fairly soon, Mr. Fatone. When they have awakened, we will have a meeting so that everyone is clear on what is to be expected of them for the next 2 ½ days. Are you hungry or do you need anything?”
Joey cleared his throat before speaking, inwardly wincing at the question.
‘Need anything…need anything? Yeah…duh…he needed to get himself and the others out of there.’
Joey blinked, knowing that sarcasm would not work and he lowered his head as he began speaking.
“No, I’m not hungry…I’m still thirsty, though. Can I have something to drink and take something for this headache?” he asked quietly, hating the fact that he was sounding so meek with the men who had kidnapped him and the others, but maybe if he cooperated, everyone would remain healthy.
“Not a problem,” was the reply and, minutes later, Joey was once again riding on a wave of medications after being given a shot in his right forearm by another masked individual who had been called down into the basement.
“What…umm…what did you give me?” Joey asked in a small voice as he watched the floor tilt lazily before him.
“Benadryl…it’s safer,” the new figure said.
Joey gave the man what he hoped was an incredulous look, but he wasn’t too sure since the dizziness he was feeling was becoming steadily stronger. Through half lidded eyes, Joey watched the new figure move from Lance to JC’s still forms, checking on them and, for one instant, Joey’s thoughts moved to the group’s physician, Kenneth Shannon.
‘That’s crazy…just crazy,” Joey told himself numbly as he fought the growing numbness that was beginning to grip his limbs and his mind, but he knew that it was a fight that he would eventually lose.
The figure returned and Joey watched as a large roll of heavy duct tape was pulled out of the figure’s pocket. The man pulled a long piece from the roll then knelt down at his side.
“Hold still, Mr. Fatone,” he said as he made quick work of binding Joey’s mouth closed by wrapping the tape around his head completely two times. Before standing the figure patted Joey on the shoulder then he rose and crossed the room and climbed the stairs. As Joey heard the door close from over head he blinked several times against the dizziness and the tunneling of his vision while he rather awkwardly pulled himself into a position that allowed him to see both his friends as he struggled to keep his drooping eyes open. In growing frustration, Joey quietly grunted into his thick, tape gag and pulled in vain at the handcuffs, which kept his hands bound in front of him. Somehow, he needed to remain alert and awake…he needed to formulate some sort of plan of escape, but the thick, cottony feeling in his head was growing more intense with each passing second and he knew that unconsciousness was just around the corner. Joey rolled himself from his left side to his back but kept his head turned so that he could watch over his friends until he was no longer able to.
‘God…please get us out of this…please,’ Joey silently pleaded as darkness finally washed over him.