72 Hours, Ch. 9
In a large New York hotel suite investigators crowded around the kitchenette table staring at a large map, pointing at various locations all the while speaking in low, chopped tones…their words barely penetrating the space surrounding them. Several hours earlier group manager Johnny Wright had supplied them with a detailed list of individuals who had sent threatening letters to the members of Nsync through the years…specifically those within a two to three hundred mile radius of the New York area where the kidnapping had taken place.
Through experience, the investigators believed that the individuals responsible for kidnapping JC, Joey and Lance had to be relatively nearby since they were not only demanding that Chris and Justin deliver a portion of the ransom, but also due to the fact that most kidnappers operate within their comfort zone. In another words, they would not move out of a familiar location in order to commit their crime.
The investigators were also concentrating on cities that might have universities, colleges, or junior colleges. It was their belief that a group of older individuals would not have much knowledge of Nsync and the kidnappers seemed very organized so far in their operation making them believe that higher education might be playing a part in the situation. Their reasoning might have sounded a little off base and the investigators realized that their assumptions were just that, but, for the moment, they were willing to chase any kind of lead that came their way, no matter how far-fetched they might be.
While anxious activity continued to go on in that suite, down the hallway in the suite that Chris and Justin had been taken to some time ago, a heavy veil of subdued quiet reigned over the occupants. Dr. Shannon had called it an evening about an hour earlier and had retired to one of the bedrooms after instructing Justin and Chris to also get some rest. Unfortunately, he knew that the pair would more than likely get as little rest as he knew he was going to be getting that evening with or without the medications that were being prescribed for them. His own mind was racing with all the information that he had heard throughout the evening and, now with the opportunity to settle into the peace and quiet of his room, he had the time to reflect over what he had learned.
Since having been introduced to the group some two years ago, the doctor had grown to care deeply for each of the young men…so much so that he considered the boys as an important part of the family and they him, as well.
It was rather unusual for physicians to become involved on such a personal level with patients, but the relationship that had formed was one built out of the necessity of a deep trust between he and the boys. In the entertainment business, trust, on the one hand, had to be very slowly cultivated and carefully maintained. At the same time, all of the hard work that went into creating a trust could be easily destroyed with just one wrong word…one wrong move. With that in mind, the doctor had worked conscientiously toward building a strong, trusting relationship with the boys in his office, which in turn, translated into a just as meaningful relationship outside that office.
There had been many opportunities to get together during the time that he had come to know and care for the boys and it was those occasions that were swirling about in his mind as he lay upon his bed. Dinners…award shows…small family get gatherings…the list went on and on. Knowing that sleep would be a long time in coming, the doctor sat up. Staring into the darkness, he felt as if the weight of the world was resting upon his shoulders and he slowly lifted his covers up and slid out of bed.
Feeling his chest tighten with the overwhelming emotions of fear, grief and uncertainty, the doctor silently knelt down beside his bed before bowing his head to rest upon the mattress. With a heavy heart, he poured out his emotions in a fervent prayer in the hopes that somehow JC, Joey, and Lance would soon be found safe and sound and that their families and friends would remain strong during this difficult time
In the next bedroom two figures lay upon their beds silently staring at the ceiling above…sleep eluding them both.
“How do you think they’re doing?” Justin quietly whispered into the darkness. He pushed himself up on his bed until he was leaning with his back against the headboard of his bed before turning his head to look in Chris’s direction.
“I don’t know, J…I really don’t know,” Chris answered just as quietly. Neither wanted to awaken Dr. Shannon or the bodyguards in the next room. That would only result in one or more of them coming into the room to check on them and, for the moment, both young men wanted to be left alone to themselves…just for a little while.
“How are you holding up, J?” Chris was now also sitting up in much the same manner as Justin. He reached for the nightstand and turned on the bedside lamp on its lowest setting, blinking his eyes for a few moments as they adjusted to the intrusion of light.
In response to Chris’s question, Justin simply shrugged his shoulders as he mumbled a half-hearted “okay”.
He then dropped his hands into his lap. Nervously, he began to play with the hem of the blanket on his bed. To be completely honest, he wasn’t holding up too well…not at all, but he didn’t want Chris to worry about him too.
Justin’s awkward silence was answer enough for the older man and he nodded his head before realizing that Justin couldn’t see his nonverbal answer since he wasn’t looking up from his hands.
“Me too, J” Chris replied before scooting to the end of his bed. He then stood up and walked over to the glass doors that opened out onto a balcony. He pulled the heavy drapes away from the door then stood staring at the nearby, brightly lit buildings. The pale moonlight gently filled the room, pushing shadows closer to the far corners of the large bedroom.
For several minutes the pair remained quiet with Chris reflecting on the recording of the phone call that had been received from the kidnappers. The fear in his friends’ voices had been overwhelming, bringing an onslaught of emotions but through it all one thought kept overriding all others in Chris’s mind. That all important thought was that they were alive…hearing their tortured voices, their fearful cries, their pain-filled screams…no matter how heart-wrenching those sounds had been, each had meant one thing…his brothers were still alive. Their being alive gave him and the others the hope that JC, Joey and Lance would be found and returned safely as soon as possible. Thankfully, his mind was not allowing him to dwell upon the true meaning behind those pain-filled cries…what kind of vicious acts the kidnappers were performing on his brothers. Rather, his mind was concentrating on the facts that they were still very much alive…which meant they might be found soon once the demands were met.
As Chris continued to stand quietly, lost in his thoughts, Justin continued to fidget with his bedcovers. His stomach was tied up in tight knots over the conflicting emotions that he was fighting against within himself. He wanted to talk to Chris, but was sure that what he had to say would cause the older man to completely hate him because, quite frankly, he hated himself for the moment.
As he continued to brood over his tumultuous emotions, the pressure in his stomach continued to build until he reached the point that he was sure that he would be sick…the sandwich and soup had had somehow managed to swallow down a short time ago was threatening to come right back up.
“J…are you okay?”
Chris’s quiet voice startled Justin so badly that all thoughts that his stomach might rebel on him quickly became reality. With quick, jerked movements, he slapped on hand over his mouth while struggling with his covers with his other hand.
In confusion and concern, Chris watched Justin stumble from his bed before racing for the bathroom. Just as the bathroom lights came on, Chris could hear Justin retching.
“Oh, geez,” he said, coming out of his daze before running into the bathroom to make sure Justin was okay all the while listening to see if anyone else had heard the commotion in their room.
Minutes later, Chris helped a shaky Justin back into the bedroom, relieved that no one had heard them since none of the usually vigilant bodyguards or Dr. Shannon had entered the room.
“Here you go,” he said quietly lifting the covers on Justin’s bed. Slowly Justin crawled onto the bed’s surface before Chris draped the covers over him.
“Be right back,” Chris said before returning back to the bathroom where he ran a washcloth under some cool water then wrung it out. As he did this, he stared at his reflection in the mirror…his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed…dark shadows under his eyes…pale skin…his lips frozen in a deep, sad frown. He shook his head, closed his eyes, breathed out a sigh then turned on his heel and walked back into the bedroom and over to Justin’s bed.
“What happened, J?” Chris asked, the concern evident in his voice as he gently placed the folded cloth on Justin’s forehead. He knew that one of the side effects of the medications that they had been given were bouts of nausea, but neither of them had taken any more of the pills in several hours so he was at a loss for what had caused Justin to become sick.
“Was it something you ate, Justin?”
“No,” was the whispered reply.
“Then what?” Chris asked in slight frustration. “Don’t make me keep guessing…I’m not good at this game.”
“I can’t tell you,” Justin whispered, his voice choking with pent up emotions. His hand briefly covered Chris’s then he slowly rolled from his back to his side so that he faced away from the older man.
Chris raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“Why not, J? Hey…let’s not start keeping secrets from each other…not right now.”
“You’ll…you’ll hate me.”
Justin’s quiet words slightly startled Chris and he sat heavily on the side of the bed before gripping Justin’s shoulder. Gently, but firmly he pulled on the shoulder, meeting with little resistance, causing the younger man to turn from his side to his back.
“Why would you think that, Curly? I could never hate you.” Chris frowned at the tears building in Justin’s eyes and wiped away a tear that tracked down the side of the younger man’s face.
“You will…cause I hate me,” Justin whispered before a short sob tore its way out of his throat.
“J…come on…tell me. I want to help…please tell me,” Chris quietly pleaded as he continued to stroke Justin’s tear stained face.
“If you’re worried about the others…” Chris began but was interrupted by Justin’s quiet voice, which was heavily muffled by his hands since he had brought them up to cover his face as another sob escaped.
Chris leaned in closer, trying to understand what Justin was saying, but he was unable to completely decipher the words.
“J…don’t cover your face,” he said, gently pulling Justin’s trembling hands down then holding them firmly in his grasp.
“One more time, J…what did you say?” he quietly urged, hoping to get to the bottom of what had just happened just minutes ago.
Justin swallowed heavily before speaking through his tears never lifting his eyes from his lap.
“I said…I said…I…” he began, but stopped, shaking his head. Chris raised his eyebrows in concern then wrinkles filled his forehead as he frowned. He didn’t like how shook up Justin was and he again encouraged the younger man to speak.
“Come on, Justin…you can tell me.”
“I said…that I…that I…am afraid to deliver the ransom. I don’t know if I can do it. I’m scared Chris…I’m scared.”
For a moment or two, Justin lay on the bed waiting for Chris to unleash some sort of anger at his statement and, when he was only met with silence he opened his eyes and glanced up to see Chris’s eyes also filling with tears before hearing the words, “me too, J…me too,” coming from the older man.
“Does that make me a bad person, Chris?” Justin blurted out, hoping that Chris would understand where he was coming from. He just knew that if Chris confirmed his fears, it would just kill him.
“No, J…it doesn’t make you a bad person…not at all.” Chris couldn’t bring himself to say any more to the younger man. Instead he let go of Justin’s trembling hands then moved further up the bed so that he could sit against the headboards, his back resting against a pillow or two. Once settled, he patted his thigh, giving Justin a reassuring gaze.
“Come on, J. Why don’t you get some rest for a little while.”
“You need to rest too, Chris,” Justin protested all the while scooting further down in the bed before until he was able to rest his pillow against Chris’s side.
“I’ll get some, but you got sick…so you need more for now.”
Justin started to make another protest but Chris quickly interrupted him before he was able to.
“I’ll call the doctor in here and he’ll make sure you get some rest with a shot, if that’s what you want.”
Justin looked up and gave Chris a half-hearted scowl before lifting his pillow from the older man’s leg.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked, confused by Justin’s action, thinking that the younger man must be upset with him.
“I won’t tell him about you not getting rest if you’ll lay down too,” Justin said with a tired smile as he scooted over to one side of the bed, making room for the other man.
For a second, Chris seemed to be contemplating the offer before finally nodding his head. Seconds later, he had also crawled underneath the covers then turned to his side. It was just minutes later that both were finally asleep.
It was fairly early the next morning before Johnny and Dr. Shannon truly had any quiet, undisturbed opportunity to sit down and talk. For the most part, when the doctor had arrived the previous evening, he had been kept busy treating Justin and Chris leaving him very little time to discuss the kidnapping with the group’s manager.
After checking on the young men and seeing that they were both still sound asleep, Dr. Shannon stepped out onto the suite’s balcony to join Johnny just as the sun was beginning to slowly rise over the city.
“Coffee?” Johnny asked, holding up a fresh pot. “Wish it was something stronger…but…it’s still early in the morning,” he added with a small smile and shrug of his shoulders.
“This is okay,” Dr. Shannon replied with a small smile as he picked up an empty mug and walking over to the manager, who filled it with the hot, steamy brew. He than walked across the balcony and sat down heavily on a lounge chair at a glass, patio table. He then pulled a chair out for Johnny and watched as the other man walked over to join him.
“Thanks,” Johnny said quietly, his tone subdued as he looked at his coffee cup, its contents steamy and hot.
For several minutes the pair sat quietly, reflecting on their own thoughts before the doctor cleared his throat as he wiped a hand over his face, noting the need to shave before checking back in on Justin and Chris.
“Have you called their parents?”
“Justin and Chris’s or…the others?” Johnny asked just as quietly noting that the doctor simply nodded his head in response to the question.
“Umm…yeah…they all know what’s going on. The investigators want them to stay put for now…at least until we know more about what’s going on.”
Dr. Shannon raised one eyebrow at that bit of news. He was surprised that the parents hadn’t ignored the request. At the same time, Johnny noted his expression and gave the doctor a weary smile, knowing exactly what thoughts were going through the man’s mind.
“It wasn’t easy, believe me…getting them to all stay home or at least go to Orlando…especially with the new demands being made about Justin and Chris and the ransom…but…somehow the investigators were able to convince them that they were better off staying away.”
“They’re being kept up to date on what’s going on though,” Dr. Shannon asked with a small frown before sipping some of his coffee.
“I uh…I spoke with Beverly and Lynn after the new demands involving Justin and Chris were made. We had a conference call of sorts. By then everyone was there in Orlando at WEG headquarters…that’s where we decided everyone needed to go when everyone wanted to at least be together. When they all arrived the investigators allowed them to hear the tapes that we have so far.”
”I bet that was rather difficult,” the doctor said quietly, a small shudder raced up his spine at the memory of hearing what was on the tapes last night after getting Justin and Chris settled in for the evening. Never before had he heard Lance so scared and the sounds of his pleading and the beatings going on in the background still caused his stomach to do a small flip-flop each time he thought about it.
“Yeah…I understand that Jim Bass became physically ill…and…Karen Chasez and Phyllis Fatone nearly collapsed hearing…the umm…screams…in the background and all,” Johnny said before standing up quickly to walk to the balcony’s rail. He leaned upon its surface as he blindly gazed at the traffic moving some thirty-odd stories below.
“This is so hard, Ken…I…I don’t know how…much…” the manager said, his voice shaking as his emotions threatened to overtake him.
Dr. Shannon took in a deep breath then stood up and walked over to his side.
“I don’t know how much more we’ll be able to withstand either…but…we’re going to have to be the strong ones here, John. Chris and Justin are depending on us to do just that…to keep it together…and so are Joey, Josh and Lance,” he said in low tone full of commitment. “I love all of the boys as much as you do, John. We’re going to get through this…all of us.”
With that said he clapped the man’s shoulder then walked through the opened balcony doorway all the while silently praying that everything would work out and that he and the others would have the strength necessary to continue on in the ordeal.
Throughout the long evening in the dark basement, Joey, JC and Lance had carried on a quiet but nervous conversation in an effort to ward off the intense level of fear permeating the cool, damp air surrounding them. From time to time throughout the evening, the kidnappers had made their way down the stairs to allow them restroom breaks and to eat small meals…and…on a few occasions, physically threaten them with their fists and well-placed kicks if they didn’t remain cooperative. Although, the three took the underlying threats of death very seriously, they would pose quiet, carefully thought out questions to ask the men, but each question remained unanswered.
Between visits from their masked abductors, their conversations would drift to what the others might be doing or saying…how their families were handling the stress…what was being done to find them, to rescue them…who were the men that had kidnapped them and why.
They had so many questions, but very, very few answers with little hope of getting any…at least not from their kidnappers.
“Looks like the sun is starting come up,” Joey quietly commented as dim sunlight slowly began to trickle into the room through the small windows near the ceiling. In an effort to stretch his tired and stiff legs he straightened his knees and shifted on his mattress, causing a small puff of dust to rise up and ride upon the growing beams of sunlight.
“My legs are starting to cramp up again,” JC quietly complained from his mattress, but there was nothing that anyone of them could do to help him in his miserable situation. With the last visit, the kidnappers had rearranged their bound positions, leaving them with backs pressed against support poles, tape surrounding their chests, holding their arms close to their sides, their hands taped behind them and their ankles taped together as well. Joey had been quick to point out though, at least they had been allowed to remain free from being gagged…that was something at least.
“Can you stretch your legs, Jace?” Lance asked quietly, trying vainly to twist his head so that he could see the older man behind him. He hated the fact that each of them had been tied in such a way that they only had the ability to see one of each other if they slightly strained against their bonds. He had a view of Joey, Joey could see JC, and JC had a view of Lance.
“No…oh, gosh…it’s bad this time,” JC moaned, the pain obvious in his voice as he leaned as far forward as his restraints would allow him to as the muscles in his legs seemed to turn into solid blocks of concrete.
“Should we call out for help?” Lance asked, but JC moaned out in a strained, low voice…”no…no, Lance…no, Joey…don’t. They’ll only come down and hit us again.”
Watching JC suffer caused Joey to feel helplessness as well as growing anger. Hearing the older man quietly moan in pain only added to his rising emotions and he began to tug and pull fiercely against his bonds but, in the end, only succeeded in further bruising his already tender wrists and further aggravating his tired and aching muscles. In frustration he growled while Lance’s gaze traveled anxiously from Joey, whom he could barely see, to jerk vainly against his restraints in an effort to see JC, who continued to moan quietly in pain.
“I can’t…get the…tape loose!” Joey grunted in a voice that gave away the anger and pain that he was experiencing as he continued to struggle with his bindings.
“Joe…stop it…stop it! You’ll tear up your wrists,” Lance hissed knowing that it was impossible to free themselves from the thick layers of tape wrapped tightly around their wrists and chests but completely understanding why the older man was franticly struggling a few feet away.
“Yeah…stop before…you really…hurt…yourself,” JC said through clinched teeth as he struggled to keep the thin thread of control he had over his voice. He wanted more than anything to scream out with each wave of pain, but didn’t want the kidnappers to come down. Little did he or the others know that their captors had already planned to come down at about that same time and suddenly, with little warning the basement door opened abruptly and light flooded the room.
Instantly, the trio became silent as their attention was drawn to the stairs at the far end of the room and the two sets of feet descended the wooden structure. With each downward step, Joey and Lance could feel their muscles tensing in fearful anticipation of whether or not the next few moments would bring yet another beating while JC could only concentrate on the tremendous pain traveling up and down his legs.
As the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, a small collective sigh of relief could barely be heard when they realized that the men were not those who had been tormenting them even with their faces masked. The men who had been beating them were much taller and more solidly built than these two. These were the men who were more intent on caring for their wounds and their needs rather than creating their injuries.
“We brought you something to eat after you visit the restroom,” Cary said raising a large paper sack that had previously gone unnoticed. His eyes traveled over the trio and he felt slight alarm at the awkward, bent position that JC had taken. It was clearly obvious that the young man was under some sort of duress and he quickly moved over to his side. Lance twisted and turned from his position in an effort to see what was happening…fearful of what might happen to JC. At the same time Joey’s eyes narrowed in a mixture of anger and fear as one of the men knelt behind JC to untie him while the other stood nearby with a gun trained on the group.
“Leg cramps…please,” JC whispered through clinched teeth as he tugged slightly against the bindings as Cary worked to release him. For a moment, it seemed as if his chest and hands would not be released soon enough and just when he thought his legs could not cramp any tighter, an even heavier wave of pain coursed its way through them. No longer able to keep from crying out, JC’s pain filled voice filled the room bringing Zachary down the steps, two at a time.
“Hurry! Please!” JC practically shouted out in a voice choked with tears of pain and frustration, not even noticing that Zachary had now dropped to his knees at the young man’s writhing side to begin massaging his right calf muscles.
“Do something…help him!” Joey cried out angrily, while Lance tugged at his own bonds in an effort to see what was happening behind him.
“Shut up!” the one standing over them said, waving his gun in their direction while more footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, but no one paid any heed to them since all attention was focused on JC and his dilemma.
“We need to get him up and walking around,” Cary said as he finally released JC’s hands then the tape surround his chest. Immediately, JC brought his numb hands to his thighs and desperately tried to rub the cramped muscles…to force them into relaxing while the kidnapper moved to his ankles and cut the tape away. Once the tape had been pulled away, Cary joined Zachary and began rubbing JC’s left leg while the young man worked on his right then left thighs.
“What’s going on down here?” Lawrence shouted out as he reached the bottom of the steps.
“Chasez’s having severe leg cramps…we need some Gatorade down here, Larry…please,” Cary called out over his shoulder knowing the sugary, tart drink would give the young man’s screaming muscles some relief. For a second or two he wasn’t too sure if the older man would comply with the request but soon, much to his relief, he heard Larry’s footfalls going up the stairs.
Minutes later, Larry was at his side, thrusting a cold bottle of the orange flavored liquid at him.
“Here…give him some…then get him up. I want him to make the next phone call,” he said in a tone of voice that was hard to read.
Cary turned and looked up at him as he took the bottle from him. A certain feeling of dread then caused his stomach to slightly knot itself. He knew that look that Lawrence was giving him…and it wasn’t good. He was up to something…but what it was, he had no idea.
He turned his attention back to JC. After pulling off the bottle’s lid, he had the young man take several sips of the sweet liquid all the while watching Zachary continue to work out the kinks of his trembling legs.
At the same time, Barrett turned his attention to Lance and quickly untied him then led him to the bathroom all the while with Lawrence standing over Joey, a gun pointing at the angry young man.
In determined defiance, Joey looked Lawrence straight in the eyes, ignoring the fact that there was a gun trained on him. He was too angry to really care for the moment. All he wanted were answers and he was determined to get them.
“Why…why this? Why us?” he said in a low voice, never breaking eye contact with Lawrence, unsure if his question would set off another beating or if it would even get an answer at all.
In response, Lawrence snorted before giving Joey a smirk slightly hidden underneath his mask. He then squatted down in front of the young man, crossing his arms over his thighs, the gun dangling loosely over the dirt floor from his right hand.
“Have you ever…hated someone, Mr. Fatone?”
The question was not the response that Joey was expecting and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not knowing that Lawrence’s friends were also mimicking him at the same time. For several seconds Joey remained silent, trying to rationalize the question…trying to come up with some sort of answer. Lawrence saw the young man’s confusion and decided to ask the question again.
“Let me repeat myself,” Lawrence said, moving slightly closer to Joey, who in return, instinctively leaned back into the pole that he was still securely bound to and bent his bound legs, pulling them close to his chest in a futile effort to put some distance between himself and Lawrence. At the same time, Cary stood up from JC’s side in nervous anticipation of what Lawrence might possibly pull, ready to intervene if necessary. None of the young men needed another beating…especially Fatone, who had already received the brunt of two…maybe three in the last day and a half.
“Have you…ever…hated someone, Joseph?” Lawrence finished as he cocked his head first to the left…then to the right, watching Joey slightly squirm under his gaze. He knew full well that he and the rest of his friends were more than likely at the top of the list for the moment and he wondered if this younger man would have the gumption to lay it on the line.
For a split second, Joey debated his answer, all the while staring daggers at Lawrence before simply nodding his head and whispering, “yes…yes, I have.”
In response, Lawrence nodded his head and slightly smiled, giving Joey some credit for his gutsy answer.
“Hate is the answer, Mr. Fatone…hate is why this is happening to you, Mr. Bass and Mr. Chasez…hate.”
In the background, the expressions on the faces of those scattered about the room registered mixtures of confusion, shock, anger and fear as the words that Lawrence had just spoken seemed to bounce around the large basement, the gravity of the situation becoming even more serious…more confusing.
Knowing that he more than likely had the attention of the entire room, Lawrence stood back up and tucked his gun into his waist behind his back then pulled out a knife. In the background, JC and Lance gasped out in fear while Joey cringed back in fear as Lawrence approached then stepped behind Joey causing a ripple of fear to course its way through the young man since he no longer had the ability to see what Lawrence was doing.
Lawrence stooped down and smirked as he watched Joey’s hands clench and unclench, all the while trembling. He then chuckled quietly as he reached out, grasped Joey’s left arm before quickly slashing through the thick layers of tape holding the young man against the pole and cutting through the tape wrapped around Joey’s hands. Once finished, he walked back around the pole to cut the tape surrounding Joey’s ankles, all the while with Joey pulling away the loosened tape and warily rubbing the circulation back into his wrists not even daring to attempt to kick out at the man. In the back of his mind, he now realized that this man was definitely more dangerous than he and the others had first suspected. Deciding not to pursue the issue any farther, without protest, Joey allowed the taller man to firmly grasp him by the bicep, pull him roughly to his feet and push him toward the restroom.
An idea…wicked and cruel suddenly came to Lawrence. After disclosing his motivations behind the kidnapping, he was finding himself to drifting into one of those moods that needed release and, instead of beating one or more of the three hostages it might be more fun to put them through something a little different…maybe a little mental anguish. Looking around the room he found this just might be the perfect opportunity to play some mind games. Fatone, Bass and Chasez seemed a little shaken and off balance anyway…why not shake their worlds up some more.
‘Which one…which one…hmmm…’ he thought to himself, glancing at the three figures, who were scattered throughout the room. Zachary had a firm grip on Joey’s arm as he led him from the restroom back to his mattress where he’d be allowed to eat and drink. He noticed that the expression that the young man was wearing was one of anger…nope…he wouldn’t do in his little game. It would be better to sit back and watch him…yep…he’d just let that one sit back on the sidelines.
Lawrence then turned his attention to Lance, who was sitting on his mattress, his hands being drawn behind him by Cary and bound since he had already finished eating and had been to the restroom. He noted that the blonde’s features were pale and drawn reminding him of the beating that he, Zachary and Bennett had submitted him to the evening before. Mentally, Lawrence shook his head…nope…he wouldn’t do either. That meant one thing…that Chasez kid. He wanted this one to read the next set of demands anyway. Why not make his going up the stairs into a false challenge…a small glimmer of hope.
Turning one more time, Lawrence saw that Barrett and Zachary had the young man by the arms and were walking him back and forth near the stairs in an effort to relieve the severe leg cramps he had been suffering from. Taking in the young man’s pale and shaking features caused a small, sick smile to cross Lawrence’s hidden face…yep…that Chasez kid would do just fine.
Several minutes later, after Joey and Lance had been securely tied to the same support poles as before, Lawrence saw that it was time to put a cruel scheme into motion that he had come up with earlier.
“I’ve got a little idea,” Lawrence suddenly announced, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Seeing that all eyes were looking at him, he took a few steps further into the basement.
“How would it be…if…we let one of you go?” he asked, ignoring the look of puzzled astonishment from Cary and the slight protesting from Zachary. Only Barrett remained silent knowing that something was definitely going on in the older man’s mind…what it was he had no idea, but he was willing to find out.
“Ummm…Larry?” Zachary said quietly, but instantly became silent with glance thrown his way…he knew that look…it was dangerous.
In the meantime, frantic, yet wary glances were bouncing between JC, Joey and Lance. None of them were certain that they had heard the man correctly, and, by judging the brief sounds of protest coming from the other kidnappers, they had an impression that they had no idea what was going on either.
Lawrence slowly walked over toward JC and instantly, he tensed in Zachary and Barrett’s grasp. He attempted to take a step back as the masked kidnapper advanced, but he wasn’t allowed to and inwardly he cringed in fear as he tried to keep his features neutral, knowing that he was failing miserably.
“How would it be if I let one of you go…Mr. Chasez?” Lawrence asked standing almost toe to toe with JC.
Not expecting a reply, Lawrence was surprised when the young man lowered his gaze and spoke in a hushed tone.
“It would be good…if you let one of us go.”
Lawrence snorted and, with lightning reflexes, he painfully gripped JC’s jaw and forced him to look him in the eye. In the background he heard a small pair of gasps from the other two hostages. Yep…this is going to be good.
“Climb those stairs…and I’ll let one of you go…your choice,” Lawrence said in a low tone ignoring the fact that his strong, bruising grip was causing JC to wince in pain. With a twist of his wrist, Lawrence released his hold on JC, who slowly looked back at Joey and Lance in the realization that he could never make that kind of a choice.
His brief look of hope melted into one of grief as Lawrence’s words sank into JC’s being as he turned his attention back to Lawrence.
“How…how can I…I can’t make that choice,” he whispered in disbelief. At the same time Joey and Lance expressed the same sentiments in the background. In the span of a second, Joey and Lance looked at each other knowing that this had to be a sick game…this couldn’t be happening.
“JC…he’s pulling your leg…don’t listen to him!” Joey shouted.
“Jace…don’t…” Lance encouraged, but their shouts were falling on deaf ears. JC was totally transfixed by Lawrence’s dangerous stare and the slight possibility that he might be able to get one of his younger brothers free.
Zachary saw a look of grim determination cross JC’s face before chancing another glance Lawrence’s way, only to inwardly groan when he recognized the look in the older man’s eyes. He knew that freedom wouldn’t be coming and he didn’t want to play along with the sick game that was being conjured up.
“Larry…he can barely hold himself up much less make it up those stairs…why don’t we…” Zachary tried to say but Lawrence fixed him with such a cold gaze he became silent.
“Shut up…go gag the others…or there will be consequences that you won’t appreciate, Zach,” Lawrence said harshly, his tone not leaving any room for an argument from the young man.
For a few tense seconds, Zachary stood there looking Lawrence in the eye trying to judge just how serious he was before turning his attention to Barrett and Cary.
“Zach…do it,” Lawrence said, his tone more menacing than before, not wanting his authority questioned by the others.
“Okay, Larry,” Zachary replied quietly, deciding that Lawrence was way beyond reasoning with. He let go of JC and Barrett immediately grasped both of the young man’s arms, feeling them tremble in what he was sure to be fear. Good grief…he could feel a certain level of fear tugging at him.
“JC! Don’t do it…it’s a joke!” Joey continued to shout, pulling harshly against the ropes holding him immobile against one of the support poles, but to no avail. He couldn’t believe that JC was even going to try to make it up the stairs on legs, although strong with years of dance and activity that were shaking harder than those of a newborn colt. The cramps that his friend had endured throughout the night weren’t going to allow him to make it up the 20 or more steps of the staircase.
Zachary knelt down in front of Joey before peeling off a few strips of duct tape from a thick roll and placing them on his leg.
“Don’t make him do this…he can’t…he won’t make it…it’ll kill him not to make it…” Joey pleaded angrily all the while twisting his head back and forth in an effort to avoid the strip of tape Zachary was attempting to gag him with.
“Joey…calm down…don’t Joe…don’t,” Lance hissed at the older man in an effort to get him to be quiet, but Joey was not about to listen…he was too angry and Lance’s cries were going unnoticed.
In the background, Lawrence watched the spectacle before getting fed up. With quick, angry steps, he reached Joey’s side, pushed Zachary to the side and, grabbing a handful of Joey’s hair, he forcefully popped the young man’s head twice into the wooden post he was tied to. Instantly, with a small, painful groan, Joey became silent as he lost consciousness and, when Lawrence released his handhold on the young man, his head lolled forward, his chin hitting his chest.
For a moment, only harsh breathing was heard in the basement as everyone tried to take in what had just happened. Lawrence looked at the faces of JC and Lance, who were staring at him nearly bug-eyed in disbelief.
“Do you need the same treatment?” Lawrence asked Lance who merely shook his head in response, too afraid to voice his answer.
“Fine then. Now…gag them both, Zach…and you,” he said, turning his attention back to JC. “…you need to climb those stairs…the chance for someone to go home is still all in your hands, Mr. Chasez.”
JC looked from Lawrence to the steep stairs and nodded his head in understanding all the while hoping and praying that Joey was okay. Somehow, he was going to have to make it up those stairs, but by experience, he knew that his legs were not going to make it an easy task. In all honesty, it was going to be next to impossible, but after chancing one more look at Joey’s unconscious form and Lance’s eyes, pleading with him above his tape gag, JC swallowed deeply before pulling his arms out of Barrett and Cary’s grasps. Reaching out, he grasped the rough, wooden banister with his right hand and pushed against his left thigh as a tremor raced through it.
“I can do this…for them…I can do this,” he said quietly to himself as he stepped up onto the first wooden step only to feel his left leg scream in pain. Taking a deep breath, he once again went through the same process three more times until he stood on a small landing. Turning, he looked up at the remaining steps…at least fifteen…sixteen more. Swallowing deeply, JC felt a hint of despair attempting to push its way to the surface as he continued to gaze at the seemingly insurmountable task ahead of him.
In the meantime, Lawrence decided to take advantage of JC’s moment of hesitation. With a grin, he spoke.
“Wait a minute…let’s make this even more interesting,” he said as he walked up the steps until he reaching the landing, and approached holding a coil of rope and cloth in his hand.
“Don’t want to make this too easy, do you Larry?” Barrett said from the bottom of the stairs with a playful tone in his voice. Although he thought what Lawrence was putting Chasez was going a bit too far, he also found it might be fun to see what was going to happen.
“Larry?” Cary said in near exasperation as he tentatively stepped up on the bottom step, watching Lawrence twirl a finger in a ‘turn around’ motion at JC who tentatively turned his back to the group. In the background were some muffled protests from Lance, but those quieted with one harsh glance from Barrett.
“Hands behind you,” Lawrence said next before pulling JC’s hands together and quickly tying them tightly. Once finished, he whipped out the cloth he hand shoved into his pocket. With deft movements, he brought the cloth up to JC’s face and quickly blindfolded him before the young man could react.
“There…now climb the stairs,” Lawrence said, stepping back.
“You’re kidding…right?” JC said, looking behind him blindly trying to find the voice that had just spoken. “I mean…I could fall…and…that would mean…”
“Barrett…back him up…no pushing. Just stand behind him,” Cary said quietly, not even giving Lawrence the chance to speak. He was relieved when neither Barrett nor Lawrence put up a protest to his suggestion and, seconds later JC began his blind struggle up the stairs.
Lawrence turned to look at Lance and what he saw made him smile…the blonde had silent tears streaming down his face. With quick steps, he crossed the room, grabbing another strip of cloth, and walked behind Lance, stooped over then tied the cloth tightly over his eyes. He then stood up and watched JC’s agonizing, halting, and faltering steps up the stairs.
“Just ten more steps, Mr. Chasez!” he called out, chuckling under his breath as JC nodded his head in understanding his mind too intent on the task at hand to speak.
“Just ten more and you’ll be making a phone call and no on is going home…” he said quietly enough that only Lance heard.
In response, Lance’s head whipped up in the direction of Lawrence’s chuckles…horror filling him. Joey had been right…it had only been a game…this would kill JC…and he was powerless to do anything about it.
Inwardly, JC shuddered as he continued to struggle against the fear that he would fail his friends…his brothers…by falling or, worse yet in his mind, failing altogether to make it up the stairs.
His legs were screaming, threatening to give out on him completely as tremors coursed through them. Biting back a moan, he continued with his steps, each faltering, unsure. He was certain that his ankles, shins and knees were going to be black and blue since he had repeatedly stumbled and landed harshly on them. Behind him, Barrett just shook his head, a slow grin on his face hidden behind his mask. This was wild…he couldn’t imagine where Lawrence had pulled this set up from, but he was loving it. He was just wondering what Lawrence planned on doing once Chasez made it up the stairs…he was sure that it wasn’t going to be pleasant…but it would be interesting.
“Nine more…eight more, Mr. Chasez,” Lawrence called out while in the background Joey remained silent, deeply unconscious and Lance simply bowed his head, his mind screaming out to God that JC would be safe…wouldn’t fall…wouldn’t lose all hope once the sickening game was over.
Cary and Zachary kept glancing back and forth between what was happening on the stairs and how Bass and Fatone were holding up.
“Once this is over…we need to check on Fatone,” Cary whispered and saw Zachary nod his head in agreement. The pair glanced behind them to see that Joey had not moved…his chin still resting on his chest.
“Yeah…”
“Five more,” Lawrence called out. “…you’re almost there, Mr. Chasez…good…good…three more…two…one. Well…well, you made it.”
JC’s heart soared with those words. He had made it…he hadn’t failed his friends. One of his brothers would be released. Those thoughts swirled madly in his mind and he heaved a deep sigh as tears of relief fell from his eyes only to be trapped within his blindfold.
At the same time, Lance released a sob that shook his body to the core. JC had made it…he was safe. Not once did Lance even begin to consider the possibility that one of them just might be released…he had been all too focused on JC just making it up the stairs and, besides that, he was certain that it had all been a cruel joke. Now he only had to worry about Joey and how he was doing.
“Uh-oh,” Cary said quietly as he watched Lawrence who was shaking with laughter before finally speaking.
“Well…Mr. Chasez…too bad it took you too long to get up the stairs. You ran out of time so no one is going home today,” Lawrence said, his voice taunting and full of mirth and laughter. Barrett joined him while Zachary and Cary simply stood by watching JC crumble on the landing…his body exhausted…his spirit broken.
‘Please, God…please,’ Lance inwardly moaned after hearing the laughter and cruel words…knowing that JC would blame himself. ‘Please, God…help us.’